Tears of Hope

Dear Friends: I have been unable to scan Maria's story and attach it to my blog, so I have been typing it. If this attempt fails, I will continue to type the remainder of her profound story.

The Surprise Gift

This blog started out as a letter to my friend Carolyn Williams( who celebrates her big 50^th Birthday next month!) Last Year you celebrated with we Gal-pals in my home, Where will you be in 2007 ? Happy Birthday my dear friend! I love you!

Marie

Dear Carolyn June 19, 2007

Chatting with you on the phone is as if I am only a mile, not a continent away. Thank you so very much for buying the minutes that make such a connection possible.

Interestingly enough when I first arrived in Uganda, Lynn emailed Diana (who was going thru her own personal hell) and said “Marie’s friends call her from the states, do you think she’ll get the full Ugandan experience?” Also Jennifer told Carol I was across the world, not the country and she should let me adjust and not call me.

Diana’s response is one you will understand but not be able to repeat, which was “Screw the Ugandan experience!”

My response when Carol told me what Jennifer said was ”She is probably right, but don’t you dare stop calling!” Ha Ha Ha!

The truth is that after almost 4 months here, your calls (and occasionally from Bert, Joan and Scott) have been a touchstone of sanity when life felt out of my control. I am fully aware that I do not now, nor have I ever had full control over my life, but at least I had that illusion at times(smile). Being here in another country with another language and another culture took away any sense of control I thought I may have had, but a ring on the phone from you and/or Carol picked me up and put me back on the proverbial horse again. Thank you both so much for your constant caring, friendship and prayers.

I sometimes explain myself as an enigma as I love solitude and my time alone equally as much as I adore the gathering of friends in my home, as I did this past weekend. Then I say “What do you mean an enigma? It is exactly what you have prayed for since you were in your twenties----a true “Mary/Martha balance. Now you have it, so shut up and be grateful instead of trying to apologize for it.

And indeed I do have it! The hustle and bustle of preparations for the company this weekend was actually FUN, especially since it all turned out so well.

Let’s see: I planned an outdoor dinner for 16, but because of a most unusual very heavy rain storm, had to be moved inside. The surprise gift was that we all (14) fit perfectly around the very large table that Grace and I carried into the equally large kitchen. We were dry and warm and the house was filled with new friends (Jeff and Courtney, Trish, Greg) somewhat older friend Diana ( we went thru LMH Mission school together, so 10 months seems like a lifetime) and the laughter of children(Ellis-age 8 yrs, Marie-age 5 yrs and Gabby-age 3yrs)

------------ I planned to pick up a gas cooker (two burners) which I did, but was unable to purchase the gas or tubing or connections needed, so therefore Grace and I had to cook an entire meal on two mini hibachi charcoal stoves. The surprise gift was that fish and chips and cabbage and squash and baked beans and yummy bread (that I doctored with a basting of butter and honey and cinnamon) tasted even better cooked on charcoal,

--------------I planned to help serve the food to the hundreds of guests here at the Jubilee Celebration on Saturday, but instead was requested to assist adorning the church for the Mass. The surprise gift was that I did a terrific job and helped set the perfect backdrop for the three Bishops and zillions of priests that came to dedicate the opening of the new Church.

…......(Next time, I’ll have a series of Golden Jubilee Photo’s to share with you)…….

----------------I had hoped to be involved in the Jubilee Celebration Mass as a lector or help Father John in some way, but was unable to pull it together, or even learn the hymns well enough to be in the choir. The surprise gift was that Fr..John did request my help thru the liturgy and I was able to live out a childhood dream of being an altar boy (unheard of in my day-smile).

It was a fun filled, spiritually nourishing, emotionally packed weekend and I am grateful to my guests and the Staff at St. Francis (past and present) for allowing me to celebrate this happy occasion of the 50 years Jubilee of St. Francis Hospital, with them.

…...Then the perfect balance of the Active/Contemplative life that I prayed for as a young woman peaked on Monday: I was just leaving work for “tea” about 11 am when a beautiful smiling woman greeted me. I responded appropriately but she continued to stare at me until I looked fully at her and gasping said ”Maria?” Yes, it was Maria Goretti Nyirabucayungura, the woman I have been home visiting with HIV-AIDS, who shares my name and patron saint—St. Maria Goretti. and whose story ”Tears of Hope” you have been following in my blogs..

What a surprise that she was able to walk several miles to come to the hospital to visit with me and see the Dr. Apparently the blood pressure medicine had worked and the dizziness she had been struggling with had gone away.

After a wonderful reunion and a good meal, she visited the Dr., who again tried to convince her to take the ART. She, again, refused stating that she is unable to have the foods necessary or the firewood to cook what food she does have, to tolerate taking the drugs. After a visit with my supervisor, I walked Maria to the gate and paid a boda-boda driver ( a bicycle with a padded seat on the rear wheel) 500 shillings (about 30 cents) to take her home.

It seems Maria communicated to the Dr. and my supervisor, Justine, that my two visits had given her new life and our praying together in her humble home had sealed our friendship. She now felt hopeful and wanted to live, she believed I had been sent from God to be with her on her journey,

She understands I am a medical missionary, not a rich American come to fix her life.

That is a problem all amuzunga’s (white people) face here----that we all have the money to support them and send their children to school.

Then at the close of my work day, I decided to pray in the small St. Francis Chapel, taking my numerous devotional books with me. Admittantly, I have not spent the time in personal prayer that my calling to the Missions necessitates, but this day I took the time to read, pray and even meditate. Then I walked up the hill to another convent to see if there would be a 6pm Mass, as there sometimes is on Mondays. I was surprised to find Fr. John (his day off). He came down from the altar to give me the missal with the readings in English, as he was going to say the Mass in yet another of the many local languages in this country.

Fr. John is so kind to me and thoughtful of my language weakness. He always tries to include me and reaffirms my calling as a lay missionary.

It was indeed a very personal Mass for me and a perfect conclusion to an earlier hour in His Presence at St. Francis Chapel. I went to sleep last night feeling very whole, very balanced, indeed, very blessed.

My new friend Greg, a dentist from California, volunteering in Nychbale for his one month vacation, said ”You are in Paradise here”.” Yes, Greg, this is Paradise and I am the luckiest woman in the world”

Special thanks to the real “surprise” gift in my Ugandan experience “my helper Grace”. Trust me when I say, without her there would have been no happy ending to my dinner party Friday night. Thank you, dear Grace!

Keep your eyes and your heart open to all” the surprise gifts” God want so desperately to give YOU today.

………………………………….Marie…………..

.

.

* Just as I was writing this letter, I responded to a knock at the door. Synchronistic ally, my visitor was one of Maria’s children,Gerald, who is in boarding school not far from here. We had a very nice visit, prayed together regarding his future when he graduates from high school next year and talked of his mother and her health. He agreed that his mother should take the ARV’s, but also agreed that the food is not available to help her tolerate the medicines.

I am left with the dilemma of how much I can, or should, get involved. I know I can’t solve all the problems in the world, or even this community, but I can arrange for Maria to have Irish potatoes (that’s what we are known for here in Kisoro) and I can encourage her children to gather the wood to cook them. Hum—let me pray on this one………….

Maria Demands Her Share---continued

When I returned to Bufumbira, the hard situation forced me to work in the gardens whenever my health permitted.

But I was telling you about my father. He did not pay fees for me to go to school. He was too busy chasing after women to have any time for anything or anyone else. He may have paid fees for my brother for a short time, I am not sure, but as for me I never went to school at all. You know our people think that educating a girl is a waste of money. I can only write my name, not very well, but at least I am able to sign agreements. I got tired of dipping my thumb in ink like an old woman, so I learned to write my name as an adult in a woman’s group. Perhaps if I had gone to school, I would not be suffering the way I am now.

Maria shakes her head, sadness written all over her face. It is clear from the way she narrates her story that she is very intelligent. She is confident, orderly in her narrative and her very expression and gesture show a clear grasp of events.

She picks up her story “Maama’s son, my half brother, was called Ntoni. We all grew up together here at my father’s home. Later, when he was big, my mother encourages him to go back to his father in Rwanda. There was property for him with his father. Ntoni went back and found that his father had remarried. He lived with his father for some years. As time went by quarrels arose between him and his stepmother”.

“He returned to Bufumbira and persuaded Maama to return to Rwanda. Because Maama was already so unhappy with Daata, she was only too willing to leave. She took us with her. Her Rwandan husband welcomed her back with open arms. I think he still loved her. He built her a house” Maria pauses again to cough. She passes her hand over her hair, which is thin and wavy, probably due to her sickness.

She continues with her story. “Problems soon developed between my mother and her co-wife over their husband’s attention The younger wife accused her husband of spending more time with a woman who had deserted him only to return with a bunch of children from another man for him to look after. Her greatest fear, though, was that these children would share.her husbands property. Quarrels between Maama and her co-wife became frequent. Soon my stepfather became overwhelmed by these fights and called in the authorities to intervene. The property was divided equally between Maama and his co-wife. Maama lived on her piece of land with all her children: Ntoni and us from the Bufumbira father, my half-sister, Ntoni sister, was already married and had children.

“After some time, Ntoni started acting strangely toward Maama and the rest of us. .It appeared that all along he had used my mother to get his hands on the property. Now that his father’s property was divided between his two wives, he wanted Maama and all of us out of the way. He started to nag my mother constantly to take us back to our father, where, he said, we belonged. He was particularly harsh to my brother, who was later forced to return to Bufumbira .But after he left, Maama worried about him. Who would cook for him, who would take care of him? She, therefore, convinced me to follow and take care of him. My brother and I lived for some time with our father, but he was not very good to us. I decided to return to my mother, while my brother remained behind. I was about twenty at the time but not very strong.

Mention of ill health seemed to remind her of something. She pauses, yawns and gestures to stop the tape recorder. Her eyes are focused on me in some kind of appeal. Her sharp, seemingly youthful eyes do not seem to belong with her prematurely aging face. ”I am feeling a bit dizzy. I slept very badly last night and in the morning, I cleaned out the stomach with vomiting. I put nothing near the mouth before I left home, not even water.She reaches for her bundle, that she keeps near her and pulls out a plastic bottle full of water. She washes her hands and then eats.

………………………………………….To be continued,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

The Dinner Party--African / American Style

Grace

and

Marie

cook for many

on two small

charcoal stoves !

Dear Friends June 13, 2007

We celebrated the most beautiful Mass here at St. Francis last Sunday. We had just received the tabernacle for the new church and how appropriate that we should celebrate it’s arrival on the “Feast of the Body and Blood of Christ”.

The nursing students made a walkway about a block long of flower petals and hues of different color earth, as a carpet for Fr. John to carry the Eucharist procession ally to the tabernacle. It was so beautiful and, of course, I didn’t have my camera.

I loved the daily reading by Sr. Joyce Rupp in the “Living Faith” book and so will included it Having read it before I attended Mass, made me so much more aware of all those around me and I marveled that in only3 months I feel so much apart of this community.

On June 15^th, I have many guests coming from Nychabale to help us celebrate the Golden Jubilee of this hospital. Many of my fellow Lay Mission Helpers will stay with me and all will join me Friday evening for my first dinner party.(Diana, Jeff and Courtney and their three little one, Ellis, Marie and Gabby), As well as Trish, a nurse from Australia and Dr. Greg a dentist from California..

What fun I am having arranging sleeping accommodations, as well as food we will all enjoy and that I can find and prepare here. Wish me luck!

It should be quite a festive time as there are visitors from Holland (the Founding Sisters of St. Francis) as well as Germany, USA (that’s we missionaries-smile) and more.. I understand from Justine,, my Supervisor, that I will be very busy serving food and doing whatever I am asked to do. Since the children can not come on Saturday for AIDS Orphans Day, they are coming Friday afternoon to greet the visitors, as many of them are their school sponsors.

More later,

Marie.

One Real Presence Permeating
Sunday June 10 The Body and Blood of Christ

He said the blessing….and gave them to the disciples set before the crowd. Luke 9:16

On the feast of the Body and Blood of Christ, the focus is most always on the gift of the bread and wine , which becomes our spiritual nourishment. Another essential aspect of Eucharist is often forgotten or dismissed: the community who gathers to receive this great gift. God is present not only in the consecrated elements, but also in each person who gathers to receive the Eucharist. The crowd that the disciples fed with the five loaves and two fishes reminds us that the effectiveness of the miracle happens when the hungry people are fed. Likewise when we come forth and receive the Body and Blood of Christ, we carry this Treasure with us in the “earthen vessels” of our very selves. Let us take a clear, loving look at each person around us when we gather for Eucharist. Let awe and reverence arise in our hearts for the Christ who dwells within every one of us.

BLESSED BE YOUR EXQUISITE PRESENCE , O CHRIST, DWELLING IN THE HEARTS OF ALL WHO RECEIVE THE TREASURE OFYOUR BELOVED GIFT OF EUCHARIST.

Sr Joyce Rupp O.S.M.

Maria demands her share

You want to hear my story? It is long. I hope you have time to hear it all. Some of it takes place in Rwanda. That is the happy part. I wish I could forget the part that happens in the Congo, it is the worst. From Congo I came back to Bufumbira where I have faced only quarrels and conflicts ever since.
Maria’s voice is soft but firm. She is looking at me rather suspiciously. She is obviously not convinced that anyone would be interested in her story.

“Feel free Maria, You can tell me your story. I have the time to listen”.

We are sitting outside in the garden. The garden and the surroundings are quiet except for the occasional two or three bare-footed women who shuffle past talking loudly. The foot-path that runs along the garden is not a thoroughfare; it is narrow and only leads to some few homesteads a little further up the hill. Only muffled sounds of the few vehicles in the town can be heard from the distance.

“My childhood was very ordinary except that I grew up partly in Bufumbria and partly in Rwanda. Maama was a Congolese, but before she met my father she was married in Rwanda where she produced two children with her Rwandan husband; a girl followed by a boy. She told me that her first husband was not a bad man but later misunderstandings developed in their marriage.

“Are you a married woman, madam?” “Yes”, I answered, “I am”. “Then you know that problems come to every marriage, even to the best”. Maama decided to leave her husband and follow her brother who was at the time working at Mutolere Parish here in Kisoro as a teacher. She arrived here with her son still very young strapped to her back. She found her brother living at the mission, it was here that my father met her. My mother was still young and beautiful and my father fell in love with her. The Priest wedded them soon after .My parents had three children—a boy, a girl, then myself .The boy is the oldest, I am the youngest of Maama’s children with my father.

“The happiness in Maama’s and Daata’s marriage did not last long. You see, my father was a womanizer, He loved many women. He brought some of them home and kept others in rented rooms .After only a short while he would chase away one and bring another. Other times the woman themselves would leave when they realized that the man himself was not serious. Fortunately for Maama, all the woman left before they bore any children. At least Maama was saved the burden of raising other women’s children

Whenever she complained about his behavior, my father would beat her. He was not only a womanizer, he was a wife-beater as well. Maama was not happy.”

Maria stops and coughs a dry sharp cough. She digs for a handkerchief in the right pocket of her dress, and puts the handkerchief to her mouth as she coughs. Her hands look soft and beautiful. The tapering fingers end in nails kept short and clean. She notices me looking at her hands. She looks down at them also and smiles. Her teeth are white and even.

“I do not work in the garden anymore because of my sickness. Even as a young girl, I did not do much fieldwork. When others went to work in the gardens, I did light work at home like cooking and cleaning. I don’t know what would have happened had I married a peasant. Hard work, like digging, makes my head ache. I was very lucky to marry an educated man who did not require me to work in the gardens. My husband was employed and we had money to buy food and hire labourers to work in the gardens

………………………………… To be continued…………...... .

.

"Just Ugandan Scenery"

Beautiful Lake Mutanda Kisoro, Uganda


Sunset over the Valley

Dear Friends

Gosh ,this is what I have to look at every day---poor me.

Marie

Ellie & Maria--The Best of USA & Uganda

Let’s see, there is so much to cover. First the most awaited update on the precious Ms. Ellie Lambert and her generous offer to help the children of Uganda. Ellie has chosen to pay for all the items “Emmanuel” will need to start boarding school I picked up some basic things like tooth paste and tooth brush, soap, a towel, 2 sheets and a trunk (small) to keep his personal belongings. But I bet you never had to bring your own mattress(roll up), one dish, one spoon, one cup and a basin to wash yourself and your clothes in. We also picked up some flip flop rubber sandals, as once you are over 12 yrs., you are required to wear shoes in school. Now he has a nice shirt, sweater and pair of pants and very spiffy black sport type shoes..
I am not sure why we haven’t taken Emmanuel and his items to the school, but I am sure Justine will let me know when we are to make the big move. I am a bit concerned because even though Emmanuel attended the AIDS Orphan Day the last two weeks, I did not see him there today.. I am not sure what that means, so say a prayer all goes well with getting him started in school.
Then with the remainder of Ellie’s money ( and her mom added another $50.00 to the pot) we will have a party for the children. Ellie is to send some party favors and the money for the cake and sodas etc, which will be purchased at this end. I can’t wait to see their faces when they see the “sweets” and festive celebration.---all for them!
Today, I had a “movie time”, by showing the children the photos I have taken of them on my laptop , over the last couple of months, as well as the mini videos Was that ever a mad house,, but O, how they enjoyed it. .
Thank you Ms. Ellie for your generous heart, the children will all benefit from your kindness. and we, adults needed the jolt back to the reality of how much we have and how very much we think it our due.

Last Sunday was Pentecost Sunday and Fr. John quoted from my blog about Becky see blog entitled ( “Amen Amen, Again I Say Amen”). In general he spoke of my experience with Becky, and the bird at Mass, but specifically my quote about hearing a foreign language yet understanding I said“ It reminded me of the scripture where the apostles spoke in many languages yet all understood” Guess it did fit in with Pentecost, but I was still surprised that my Newsletter was the source of his homily. Then when I saw him the next day he ask if he might say a Mass for my friend Becky and her husband and friends. I told him”of course” and that I was honored by his thoughtfulness. He thanked me for coming to St. Francis and said he had been moved by my stories, particularly about Becky.
Tomorrow, is not only Trinity Sunday but the remembrance of the Ugandian Martyrs
I don’t know the whole story but I know there were many of them, some very young who died for their Faith I remember as a child in catholic school how ready and willing I was to face the lions in the amphitheater, torture from boiling hot to freezing cold water, almost anything for my Faith except , of course, a snake-smile. Not much has changed except now I complain incessantly about the shower water being too hot or too cold.(ha)

Last, but not in any way the least, I want to tell you about my first home visit patient. Maria a lovely woman who was diagnosed with HIV in 1994 when she escaped from Rwanda, to return to her homeland Kisoro, Uganda She is too sick to come to the hospital for visits, so I will be checking in on her twice a month. I need to admit that it is not easy to enter the home of a very poor country person. After the driver dropped us off, there was still a mile or so walk thru a rocky terrain just to arrive at Maria’s humble home. We entered into a very small area that had two small benches in it. Maria greeted us warmly and disappeared only to return with a small straw mat which she chose to sit on, while we took the benches. Following the formalities of greeting , we spoke of her health, and I told her I wanted to add my two cents to encourage her to start on the ARV’s. I know others have tried and she refuses to take them, but I asked for the opportunity to share the experience of my friends who are doing well, as the meds have been available for 10 years in the United States, as compared to only one year here in Uganda. . I am not sure how well my words were translated, but I know we read each others hearts and a bond was formed with the glue being far stronger than our shared name..
Her B/P was very high and she did accept the medicine sent by the Clinician and promised she would take it. She decided that if her dizziness went away with these pills, she would come to the hospital for a thorough examination. She did not accept my pleas to start on the ARV’s but promised to take the decision to God in prayer..
At what I thought was the end of our visit, she had us follow her thru a doorless doorway , thru a pitch dark room(I believe it is her bedroom) into a larger room aglow with sunlight streaming thru the opened shutters. This was the largest room in the home and contained two longer benches and, a small table The reason we were led into this room was because the walls were covered with unframed photos of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. . As my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed yet another photo, torn, and faded,yet could see that it was a print of a profile of a young girl, with long reddish hair in waves around her face. A stream of sunlight landed atop her head and showed an even more faded aura outlined in gold .While my mind raced back some 50 years to a similar photo that hung in my bedroom, I recognized the painting as being that of St. Maria Goretti , a saint because she fought off the sexual advances of a man much older than her 12 years, being stabbed many times and soon dying in the process. Maria let it be known that she forgave her killer and would pray for his repentance and conversion. Following many years in jail, he was released and converted and then became Maria’s biggest proponent toward her sainthood, which happened in 1956
Yes, Maria and I shared more than a name, we shared a patron saint::St. Maria Goretti. More often the name Maria/Marie is assumed to be in honor of Our Blessed Mother, Mary, but sometimes, as in the case of Maria and myself, we chose the road less traveled by having a 12 year old girl from a country neither of us have ever been in or known as our patron saint Maria, more than I, as her full name is MariaGoretti Nyirabucayungura.. I, a continent away, was baptized Marie Catherine McGee
While these thoughts and, memories ruminated in my head, Maria ask(no demanded smile) that I pray for her and with her . I ask Grace, my helper and translator if she were going to translate my prayer. She said”no Maria says that God understands all languages”. Well, that must have been a relief for me as it is not always easy for we cradle Catholics to pray spontaneously from our heart. In Arkansas I always left that pleasure to my Baptist friend Bonnie, to whom it seems to come quite naturally.(Miss you Bon-Bon)
Somehow I prayed easily for Maria, her family, her health and that, if it were the right thing for her journey, she might start on the Antiretroviral Therapy.. I must have done ok, as Grace ,who could understand me, seemed moved by my plea to God for Maria and her family. As I was leaving Maria entered her bedroom and returned with a book, entitled “Tears Of Hope” which is a compilation of short stories of Ugandan woman Maria’s story was included in this book and she lent it to me to read and return at a later date. I decided that I should share it with you as well, and have included a small portion today and will include a page each blog should you care to read along with me.
Imana ibanenawe ( God be with you)
Marie

Tears of Hope