On Tuesday, 30 December, 2008, at about 10 AM, a young girl came to see me. I had never met her before but she desperately wanted to see me. I said I don’t know you, I haven’t met you, what do you want from me? She was shy and nervous. I sensed that she was frightened and not so sure if she could share her agony with me. I am Susan, she revealed. A young girl, her self-pride was holding her back for a while from expressing what she came for. Finally, she opened up. Fumbling and with tears rolling down her cheeks, she narrated her story at one breath – ‘I come from Kibera.’ (Kibera is one of the largest slums in Africa, located in Nairobi, Kenya). Susan continued, ‘I am the eldest of 3 girls in my family. My father is not with us. He has run away. My mother, Elizabeth, who has been the bread winner, has taken to serious illness. She is suffering from acute malaria and typhoid. I am a grown up lady. I feel ashamed to beg. I hate it. I don’t have a job. I have roamed all over, looking for work, tried my every best but all in vain. I am ready to do any job. But I don’t get one. My heart is piercing when I see my mother suffer and I am watching her helplessly. That has brought me to you here.
Listening to her story, I am stuck and feel so helpless. I live in a seminary where we operate from a subsidised budget that just keeps us going. I ask myself if I have made a mistake by becoming a priest, by coming to Africa. I say I have come to help people but when people come for help, I feel lost more than the person seeking help — not because I don’t like my vocation, my job, or the people in Africa, but because I have come to help the people yet I am helpless myself.
What can I offer to Susan? Her need is genuine. Her mother is languishing in untold pain at home, her siblings are looking up to her for food, and the land owner is after her for the house rent. If not attended to, she will lose the only treasure that she has – her bedridden mother. She might be unable to give Susan and her siblings food but her presence is the strength of the family.
One thing comes to my mind. I must show Susan the strength of HOPE. That is what I have gotten from the Christmas that I celebrated on the 25th of December. Hence, I assure her of my moral support and prayers. Susan’s face lights up with a smile. For a moment she has forgotten all her worries. Then I tell Susan, I don’t have money but I have some maize flour, about 4 kg, given to me as an offertory during the previous Sunday mass I celebrated at Kenya Technical Training College (KTTC), Gigiri, Nairobi. I also wonder how a small gift from a certain community can revive hope and bring joy to an unknown person in another corner of the city. The giver doesn’t know the receiver, nor does the receiver know the giver. But hope has been rekindled in the life of a desperate person. Maybe it is just a small gesture, a temporary solution but still worth it.
I rush to my room and pick the packet of flour and add KShs. 250/- (about US$ 5) on top and place it on Susan’s hands. Susan sheds joyful tears. Her joy has no bounds. She repeatedly expresses her gratitude with endless thanks. As she bids goodbye, she pleads, ‘Father, please pray for my ailing mother and our family’. She repeats it three times. I assure and reassure her of my prayers.
Susan disappears from the scene. I don’t have her contacts and don’t know her whereabouts. I don’t even know if I will ever meet her again. But I know I will surely meet many other Susans with similar cries, stories, struggles, pains, and agony. Until we refuse to change the way we live, the way we deal with our fellow humans, until we refuse to fight for a just and equitable society, Susans will always come to us. Where will they go after all? I may not be able to change the world. I may not be able to change our country or city or village or community. But I can always change myself. I can change the way I do things. I can change the way I perceive things. I can make a difference. Change begins with each person. That is the kind of New Year I wish for you and for myself.
A life-transforming New Year to us all. A New Year where God is present in all and to all!
