Monday morning drivel from my mind to this virtual page

I just spoke with the social worker whose organization I work with to support kids here in Lesotho on the phone. There was sad news. One of the foster moms at one of our foster homes has passed away from her TB infection in her home village. After she was diagnosed with TB about six weeks ago, we sent her home to her family while she got better.

I don’t know what will happen next. I have a scheduled visit at that foster home this afternoon. The foster mom just passed yesterday and the social worker is uncertain that her three grandchildren there have been informed. We agreed that I should still go today, but whether I will share the news will be decided by the AFMSDD this morning.

There is more bad news from that same home.  For some months now there have been difficulties with the oldest boy. Somewhat typical teenager issues, he has just been struggling with life in general, and has been difficult to get along with as he tries to deal with the things that are important to him.  Last month he was reluctant to take part in the letters from the foster children that we had requested as part of our new monthly donors program.  And the last few times that the social worker came out to the home, the boy has made himself scarce.  (The road to the home twists and turns as it climbs the hillside, so the family knows when a vehicle approaches, who is coming, long before they arrive, and this boy has been taking off when he sees a vehicle coming). Recently he and his younger brother came under suspicion in the village over the alleged theft of a propane cylinder. These things are worth about CAD $10.00. It is not uncommon for these cylinders to get stolen in a village setting because that represents a serious amount of ready cash.   The last time the social worker visited, he parked his vehicle at another village along the road, about 2km before the home, and approached on foot, hoping to arrive without this boy being aware.  Not for the purpose of “catching” him, but rather to just have the opportunity to speak with him and see if some of his issues could not be sorted out.  But the boy saw him coming and took off.  Now it appears that late last week he has run away from the home, taking his younger brother with him. The social worker has informed the MSD. (part of our tentative agreement with the ministry requires this type of reporting). The boys told the girls that they were running away to Johannesburg.  Even if they took that propane tank, the proceeds would not get them anywhere near as far as Johannesburg.  And there is no hope for them in Johannesburg, even if they got there. And if we find the boys, what can we tell them about the future that will make them want to stay? Their parents are long dead. Now their grandmother, the only family member that cared about them, is gone. They are two boys who will soon be men, and doubtless they do not feel a lot of optimism about their futures in Lesotho.  Somehow they need to believe that there are people who care about them, that there is hope for the future. I know that if I were in their shoes, this would be a difficult sell.

This morning I found myself thinking of the people of Nepal as well.  As I have been working on my computer, I have been watching Al Jazeera news station and those folks are in a world of hurt.  Usually, living here, I tune out the rest of the world, with the wrong headed idea that we have enough on our plates here.  But I watched the story of a young Asian volunteer teacher in a rural village there as he went up and down the streets of Katmandu from one relief agency to the next gathering food, clothing, medicine and tents for the village in which he volunteers. He filled a good sized flatbed truck with enough food and supplies to last them 2 weeks, and then drove it up there and passed the stuff out.  There were a few boxes of little snack bags of chips of some kind that were given to the children. Some kid comes up to that teacher while he was being interviewed and offered him some of his chips. Teacher said no thanks, and then the kid insisted and you could see how he loved that teacher, and so the teacher took one or two chips into his hands and then just lost it. And then so did I, as I sit here in my comfortable little house, with my car in the driveway, warm blankets on my bed, space heater nearby to keep warm.

How do some people keep going when they have nothing? And I do not mean having little. I mean nothing, truly nothing.  How?