The mother, little girl and baby brother who carved permanent places in my heart (part II)

Eugenie is the mother’s name; she showed up at HEAL Africa a few days later with her disabled daughter Evira, and starving baby boy strapped to her back. Upon being consulted, she was referred to our disability program, Children Like Us, to get physical therapy. As usual in this region, they must remain in Goma for the duration of the treatment, as there is none in Masisi. They have no money to buy food, let alone travel back home. Lacking income to rent anywhere, the hospital grounds have become their home, as so common for the impoverished, but lucky, patients who succeed in arriving for medical treatment. She and the other women mix fuofou from the meager- and sometimes moldy- cornmeal donated by the World Food Program.
Within the first few days, Eugenie and I laughed as we figured out that not only is my Swahili very much in the learning stage, but that it is also her second language after her tribal tongue. Since she speaks no French, we are limited to communicating in our developing Swahili. She had asked me for money to buy food one day, at which I agreed to help her for one month on the condition that she come to the sewing classes at HEALing Arts to learn to sew. It was painfully obvious she has never learned any marketable skills in her life, nor received any education at all. I had to lead her by her hand into the room and introduce her to the head seamstresses the first day. I led her by the hand again the second day, as she timidly entered again into the busy, loud, orange room that has become a place of hope for the fistula patients waiting at the transit center. I had to insist every day for over a week that she show up, scolding her when she was absent. After several days, she finally passed the “sewing straight lines on paper” stage. Every time she mentions needing more food, I challenge her to earn her own money, since we pay for every item each woman sews.
This week, as I was working in HEALing Arts, Mama Eugenie eagerly showed me a beautiful coin purse that she had sewn all by herself- to perfection. I was beaming for her, my heart glowing to see her proud face and growing confidence at her accomplishment. She is sewing regularly now, and making friends with the community of women.
As for Evira and her baby brother, they have also carved their own special place in my heart. All I can say is that we mutually understand each other. Yes, me and a 9 year old girl with cerebral palsy and an 18-month old infant (whose severe malnutrition makes him seem half his age, except for his teeth), both of whom are constantly covered in food particles, slobber and who knows what else. We’re friends…
How the baby, still urgently suckling on his mother’s breast, laughs joyfully every time he sees me. We giggle together as he shrieks when I tickle his tiny body; his mother shyly smiling at the boy’s wriggling body on her back. Personally, my joy comes from seeing his mind more at peace these days, his behavior less erratically desperate. And Evira, how her face transforms into a shining smile when she sees me. How she crawls right up to me and leans her body heavily on my legs until I play a bit with her, scratch her back and make her smile. How she then proceeds to drag herself up by my legs and clothing until she stands upright on her weak limbs, reaches for my hands, her gentle eyes and toothy smile begging me to go for a walk with her. This week- the same week her mother successfully sewed a coin purse- we managed to make our way up the steps of HEALing Arts and slowly amble over to her mother, baby boy peacefully asleep on her back.
Even when I don’t see them in a day, I think about them every day. Maybe, for this one woman, her life can change. Maybe she will return with a girl who can walk, as she should have always been able to, had there been medical services in her war-torn homeland. Maybe Eugenie will return with a new sewing machine and become the neighborhood seamstress. Maybe she will one day teach other women and maybe even hire some of them to work for her. Maybe her little boy will grow up to be a strong soccer player, or an orthopedic surgeon. Maybe things can change.
Today, her daughter starts physical therapy.