Why them God, why not me?

I have to laugh as I read back through some of my old blogs and see all of the spelling and grammar errors I've made and haven't taken the time to correct. Sorry about that. Blogspot.com doesn't seem to have spell check...oh, just kidding, there it is!! It seems that the more Swahili I learn, the worse I become at writing English because I start spelling words with there vowel sounds instead of the correct ones. But the good news is that after 2 months I'm more than 2/3 done with the books which means I'll have plenty of time to finish the course and hopefully get better at interpretting it. I don't have too much trouble speaking, I feel like people can at least understand what it is that I'm attempting to say even if I am sloughtering their language a little.

On a completely different note, Josh and I spent our last weekend in Dodoma visiting Audrey and Paul at the Water Project. It was a relief to get a weekend away and taking the bus is always an adventure. The bus was only an hour and a half late this time, and no fallen power-lines like the last time so we got there in the expected 3 1/2 hours which was a lot better than the 6 it took us last time. We both were excited to relax for a few days, enjoy a couple of movies, eat a few meals in which the food that would be on your plate couldn't be predicted in advance, and see some new things. I really couldn't believe how good a tuna salad sandwhich could taste after 2 months of rice, beans, cooked spinach, and various types of unrecognizable meat. It was Wonderful!!

On Sunday morning before we got back on the bus to head back, Paul and Audrey took us to see the Village of Hope which is an AIDs orphanage in Dodoma. They currently have about 170 children from the ages of 0 to 18 and they have been going for 7 years now. Within the walls of the village, they have housing, schools, nurses/doctors, cooks, a farm, and everything they need to be self-sufficient in their operation. The organization was started by a group of Italians, some of which we had the opportunity to meet. They employ a lot of Tanzanian workers to help care for the facilities and the children, but they have staff from Italy there at all times. The facilities were pretty incredible and it was amazingly well kept.

But I can't lie, when I first walked stepped out of the car to see the facility and our car was being swarmed by little children, most of whom look quite healthy, I couldn't keep my heart from breaking knowing the future that awaits them. The same feeling overwhelmed me again as I stepped into the nursery and saw these tiny babies whom had the smallest little wrists and legs I've ever seen and they were 6 and 8 months old. At first I just wanted to cry because it's overwhelming to be surrounded by so many children who all posses the same fate. Then I was happy because after seeing the facilities I knew that there is no better possible care they could have than being right where they are. No one can change the fact that these children have AIDs, but they can give them the best possible chance at survival, and that is certainly what these kids have. In fact, in the past 7 years, the Village of Hope has only lost 2 children. (The child below is 3 years old, but he is much more like a two year old as far as physical capabilities go. It usually takes them about 6 months to get a new child to a healthy weight and good health).

It's that feeling that comes next that I hurts the most. The one where you ask God why these children got dealt the crappy hand in life and I got dealt the good one. The one where you ask God why I deserve to have so many blessings in my life while these kids get the short end of the stick by no fault of their own, and now they have to deal with it for the rest of their lives. Inside of my head I was screaming, "Why do they deserve this??!! and Why do I deserve something Better?!!" I think I was yelling at God a little, maybe even a lot, on the inside as I looked at one of those children and wished with all of my heart that I could trade places with him and give him all of the blessings I have had in my own life.

It's one of those experiences, you know. The one that makes you appreciate everything you've ever had and wonder how you ever found things to complain about. It's kind of like when I go out to the village and one of the elders asks a child, (probably one that isn't even his own), to do something or fetch something for him. Without a moments hesitation or a question on his lips the child jumps up and does it. It's engrained in the children to respect their elders. Everytime I see this little senario play out, I can't help but remember all of the times that my own father asked me to go get him a can of pop from downstairs or grab something out of the car or whatever the case may have been, and I remember a quite different response that I gave to my father's request. I think it was something like, "Why do I have to go get YOU pop? Your two legs work just as well as mine." Yeah, not some of my prouder moments in life. I'm just glad my dad didn't have a cane to prod me with like some of the old men here.

I think I spent my entire bus ride home from Dodoma thinking about all the things in life that I've taken for granted. But you can't live dwelling on those things; you can only learn to appreciate the opportunities you have been given and to use them to change the lives of others, like these children.