Child of Innocence

Another day, and I was tramping through the muddy ruts that had been left in the shanty town after the infrequent rains. As I bypassed a shack with fencing and a creaking wooden gate, a young boy stood at the gate, waving at me and speaking unintelligibly. I came nearer, and he beamed at me. All I could think of as I looked at that blindingly innocent smile was, this is what the smile of an angel must look like. Love and happiness radiated from that young lad, despite his humble surroundings. He was delighted to meet someone new, and was welcoming me to his neighbourhood. His mother, a harassed and busy woman, came to the gate to see who it was her son was talking to. She knew me from my days in the town, and explained to me that her son had been mentally challenged since birth. But, she explained to me, his emotional caring and love were the great gift God had given him. She turned back to her washing, after inviting me to drop in at any time to see their family.

I took her at her word, and Ben waited every day at the gate in case I would pass by on my regular clinic visits. Always there would be a smile, and a torrent of words I learned to understand. Ben had his own way of expressing things, and once I got to know him, I understood between his words, his sign language and his mother's interpretation, what he wanted to say. And it was always an outpouring of praise at the beauty of the sunny South African day; or a pig had wandered by, making him laugh at its bristly nose; or he saw a lovely bird; or someone stopped and talked to him, making his day. I grew to love this little chat and visit as I passed the gate, and looked forward to meeting this wonderful little lad.

One day, when I passed by, Ben was outside the gate waving frantically at me. His wonderful eyes were full of tears, and he was waving at his arms. His mom came out, and she told me that Ben had told her he had itching, burning and pain on his skin, but that the 'Angel with the Medicines' would cure him as she had cured so many in the town. I was touched beyond belief at his name for me, by which I was always henceforth known in that town. It was easy to see what was wrong with Ben. It was an itchy and contagious skin infection named scabies, and easy to treat. I left a bottle of lotion with Ben and his mom, with instructions, and the next time I came by Ben was at the gate, waving with his arms to show me his now blemish free and comfortable skin. We rejoiced together, and then I went on to the clinic van.

One day my dad and brother came to visit me. I took them to the shanty town to show them where I was working, and I was keen to introduce them to Ben. I knew Ben would be absolutely delighted to meet them. When I got to the gate, there was no-one there. I could not believe it. This was most unlike Ben. A passerby went past, and I asked him, 'Where is Ben?' 'Up there'. he said. I looked up the hill, and straight at a funeral cortege which was passing by into the cemetery. Tearfully I realised after I spoke further to the passerby, this little angel had passed away peacefully a few nights before in the arms of his father and mother to a better world. I was shattered.

But then I realised afterwards that each of us have a mission when we are put into this world, and Ben fulfilled his at a very early age. He did not only learn the lesson - he was love. To everyone, whether person, animal, plant or insect, he radiated love and respect. And he taught me, through our regular little chats, the greatest lesson we can learn while on this earth; to have joy in the simple things, to have humility, and to be love for others. Lessons which Ben taught me, and I have tried to live through Lumiere Charity. Sometimes those we help, turn out to be our teachers. Ben, may you rest in peace until we meet again.

*Photograph taken by Catherine Nicolette - please feel free to use copyright free for any worthy purpose

The Children of the Shanty Town

It was early days in my Charity work, and I entered a shanty town at ten a.m. I was struck by how deserted the clay streets seemed to be, only a stray dog and a chicken wandered up and down the dusty streets. It was later I learned that everyone who was able was out working at whatever small job they could get in order to try to have food for their families to eat at the end of the day. Some of the shanty town residents were so desperate that they went to the rubbish dumps to try to find small pieces of cloth or thrown away items that they could recycle or sell for money, even a few cents. They were known as ragpickers, and they were prey to much illness especially skin diseases, due to the work they did.

Anyhow, learning these facts was still in the future, and I entered the shanty house I had been asked by a concerned resident to visit. Nothing could have prepared me for the site that met my eyes. Here lay a gaunt little ten year old girl on a group of rags on the ground. She had huge eyes, and looked numbly at the door when I came in. When she saw me, her eyes lit up with hope. She had heard I was coming. 'Thank you for coming', this little girl gasped. 'What is it, my child,' I asked gently. 'What is wrong? Why did you send me the message?' And this little lady, left at home while her parents tried to earn money to feed her, just gestured at her leg. She had sepsis of the leg which had poisoned the tissue, leaving a huge abscess in place. The abscess was so large she could not lift the leg.

I organised drainage and care of the abscess, liased with a local nurse and health care advisor to visit her on a regular basis and do dressings. Then I left plenty of fresh vegetables and fruit for her, and fresh milk to be brought daily for her to eat and drink. This I received through the kind benefaction of a local shopkeeper who had concern for impoverished children and the disadvantaged. Within three weeks the little one recovered sufficiently well to go back to the education she was thankfully receiving nearby. I never saw her again after that, but I have never forgotten her expression which lit her beautiful face when she saw me. It was hope in the midst of utter agony and despair. And I realised that for this one child who did receive help, there are so many who look in vain for hope. Please let this blog inspire you to help someone in need near you. We - each of us - have the power to make a difference in someone's life - for the better.

*Photograph taken by Catherine Nicolette - please feel free to use copyright free for any worthy purpose

A Little Street Girl

As I walked into the orphanage and girls' shelter, I was stunned when a tiny figure hurled herself into my arms and would not let go. This little girl who had just been brought into the orphanage/girls' shelter after having been rescued from the streets, saw me and somehow decided I was a part of her family. And from that day on, a part of her extended family I and the friends and benefactors of Lumiere Charity have been. When she eventually consented to come out of my arms, it was clear to see that one of her legs hung uselessly by her side. She was carried away for a meal, and the dedicated carers at the orphanage and shelter told me her story.

This little girl had been found living on the streets, bewildered and hungry. Her mother and infant brother had died during childbirth the previous year. Her father had continued caring for her, despite being in the last stages of tuberculosis. He had died, emaciated and careworn the previous week, and her older brother had run away into the streets. He has never been found. This child had been hurt and her leg broken. Our organisation made funds available from donations for this little girl, and she underwent multiple operations in the next year. She started schooling, starting learning to read and write and started to build up to a normal weight. This little lady who had survived such a heartrending experience needed much counselling and assistance to help her in her emotional trauma.

The previous three years have made an amazing difference in this child. She is doing well at school, her leg has completely healed and she runs around without even a limp. She is a happy and mischievous little girl, living a normal childhood at last after the difficulties of her early life. Nothing can ever make up to her what she lost, but all at Lumiere rejoice for her that out of such sadness a new life and a new chance were born for this very special little lady.

*Photograph by Catherine Nicolette - please feel free to use copyright free for any worthy purpose

Lumiere Charity - Making a Difference

"Lumiere Charity is a Foundation which focuses its efforts on fundraising and paying for education and care of street children and orphans. The members fundraise to assist street children and the disadvantaged with care and education. Unemployed shack dwellers have been helped to start self employment circles which are now flourishing and independent small home businesses. Operations have been funded to pin and plate street children's broken legs and plastic surgery to repair a woman's face so she can eat again instead of just sipping liquids through her ruined mouth, and be eligible for employment..."

It is a beautiful day outside as I break off from reading these words describing our organisation's work.
Outside the lotuses bloom in violet profusion, the squirrels chase each other up and down the trees and the hot dust lies everywhere.
Where did the Charity start...?
And I remember a very early morning, 4.30 a.m. in the South African dark, when I went with my father on his daily visits to help those in need through his Charity.
As we sat in the car outside the church which loaned the use of the premises for the Charity work, he whispered to me to stay very quiet and not to move.
Eventually there was a rustle and a three year old boy leading his just-able-to-walk toddler sister came out of the bushes.
They came shyly up to the car, and Dad gently got out to lean over the two little ones.
He patted each on the head, and they blossomed into smiles. 'Hello Father', they said.
My father then gave them some bread and food, and a special little cake as a treat he had kept for each of them.
T-shirts, shorts and little sandals to match their tiny feet were accepted by shy hands. They then melted back into the bushes again.



As my dad got back into the car, he told me they were two little children who were living in the bushes, their parents orphaned by Aids.
He was feeding them and caring for them, until they could build up enough trust to allow him to introduce them to the care of another good friend and neighbour who runs creches and centres in the area to help these little ones.
'And they call you father?' I asked.
'Yes,' he said, starting the car. 'They have no father, mother or family of their own, so they have asked me to be their family. Their father.'
And I felt a lump in my throat as I looked out of the window at the dark South African morning as he went on to the blind lady who lived in a shack, to bring her food and blankets.
My dad was family to fatherless children who had absolutely no-one else in the world to care for them.
And I started to wonder - why was I not doing this work?
Why was I not caring for those really in need, like he was?
And that, I think, was where the Charity really had its first seeds...

*Photograph taken by Catherine Nicolette. Please feel free to use copyright free for any worthy purpose