Day 41 - February 16th, 2008

Today I woke up feeling somewhat better. Apparently crushed raw garlic is an effective natural remedy for the common cold, so last night I had some. This morning at Crossroads I helped out with the weekly cleanup. My job along with a Portuguese man named John was to clean/sweep the work shop. Once finished I worked on my final preparations to leave. Like yesterday, this morning I got to participate in another life experience. For those who didn't read my last post a life experience is something that Crossroads has set up to not only bring awareness but stimulate the minds of those who participate. Today I walked through an AIDS life experience. At the beginning I chose one of four different personal stories. I listened and experienced a glimpse of a life of a child soldier in Africa named Jamuale. I will try to retell the story as best I can. Here it is...

Jamuale grew up in an unstable country of the African plain. On every day that he can remember, the sounds of guns and war were not but far away. Neighboring villages had and were daily been attacked by the rebel forces. Jamuale knew that his town was surviving on ticking land mine and he dreaded the day it would come. One day this horror story did become a reality. It all happened so fast. Rebel soldiers stormed his home and without hesitation shot Jamuale's mother. It was light out but inside Jamuale was become overwhelmed by the shadow of darkness. As Jamuale looked in horror at the sight of his mother bathing in blood he felt so angry. But with no time to grieve, cry or think Jamuale suddenly found himself being confronted by the very soldier who shot his mother. The towering soldier sternly asked him his age. Jamuale replied nervously saying, "Seven." "You are a man!" the evil man replied. Then in what seemed like a second, the soldier grabbed Jamuale's little sister Grace. Dangling her in the air and passing the gun he shouted, "Do you want your little sister to die?" "No!" Jamuale replied. "Kill your brother and then your sister will live," the man shouted with an evil grin. The boy didn't know what to do, how could anyone make him choose between members of his family. The soldier insisted threatening to kill his sister at any moment. "But", "what was that" the soldier replied. A gun fired. Jamuale had killed his little brother. Guilt, shame and dread were seen on this seven year old boys face. A group of soldiers dragged Jamuale and his sister to the camp. As Jamuale and Grace were paraded through the town, neighbors glared in guilt, hate and shame. "How could you Jamuale, how could you," they shouted out.

It was just yesterday that he sat around the fire singing and laughing with mother, sister and brother. Now all hope seemed muted as he lived suffocating behind the walls of the rebel camp. The sound of guns replaced the music that he so loved. At each battle, Jamuale and boys his age were forced to the front of the "enemy line." He felt so used, protecting the wicked but deemed valuable elder soldiers. At the start of each battle Jamuale couldn't help but think that maybe it would be better to be hit by a bullet. But then he would think of his little sister. While every battle had its end, there was no end to Jamuale's work. Even if he was wounded, after every battle Jamuale had to wash and clean the wounds of his superior soldiers. As he wrapped bandages and covered bloody wounds, he sometimes wondered who's blood he was really touching in this bloody pool of evil. Every night, Jamuale worked and watched the soldiers drink and drug and play. The light from the fire was really the only light shining. Sometimes Jamuale couldn't help but wonder if these men deep down had fear and guilt and shame too.

Then one day the head of the army announced that little Grace was old enough to be married. She was now only seven but that didn't seem to matter to them. Jamuale watched the evil grins of the men who would soon deface his sister and do the unthinkable. After a little while Jamuale knew he had to escape. While he was aware of the consequences he knew that he had to protect his sister. Jamuale knew he couldn't return to his village because the neighbor's would possibly kill him out of ignorance. Jamuale felt so ashamed. He had heard rumblings of a relief camp not too far away. He hoped that it was what people were saying. Soon Jamuale set up the escaped. He arranged that he would meet his sister in the bush during the next battle. The next battle came, Jamuale and Grace fled to the bush and eventually escaped. The next morning they arrived at the camp where they were fed and clothed. As they sat around waiting for the doctor, they couldn't help but think the worst was over. Maybe this was a light at the end of the tunnel. The nurses had checked them over but for some silly reason they needed to see the doctor. Not long before nightfall the doctor came out and looked at them with a look of gloom and concern. "What is it?" Jamuale asked. The doctor told both he and his sister that they might of HIV/AIDS. Jamuale had no clue what this was but by the look on the doctors face it didn't sound good. After speaking to him, Jamuale knew that the storm was not over. The doctor left them waiting for the results. Jamuale no longer felt relief and a new sense of hope but sunk back into his fear and despair. A while late the test can back in a folded piece of paper. Jamuale slowly opened the paper and saw a plus sign. His head sunk - he had HIV/AIDS. He eventually lifted his head and looked to his sister. Tears dripped down her face. They both looked at each other in fear and sadness.

* At the end of the life experience I opened a piece of paper. I was positive. This could be me. This could be any of you.