Warning:  This is an angry post.

We spent the last two days doing tent clinics in the township of Mamelodi.  The first day in Nellmapius and the second in the informal settlement of Phomollongh, which is essentially a squatter’s camp.  There is a mix of different cultures living in the informal settlements under very harsh conditions:  no electricity, unemployment around 90%, everyone living in poorly constructed shacks built so close together that the dirt road is squeezed, smaller and smaller, the deeper you go into the settlement, eventually turning into a walking path.  People fend for themselves.  The concept of ‘survival of the fittest’ rules.  At night the camp is erie, lit only by barrel fires used for warmth and light.   The streets are dangerous with crime.  I can only image what it wold be like spending the night in such a place.  The settlement is anything but peaceful.

Phomollongh means peace and rest. 

About an hour into our day at Phomollongh a women approached me about her neighbor, a 29 year old woman.  She wanted to get her neighbor to our clinic because she was very sick.  The woman couldn’t walk and she wanted us to go to her shack and get her.  Due to safety issues and lack of a proper transport vehicle we do not generally do this.  I asked the woman about her neighbor.  How sick is she?  What are her symptoms?  Can someone bring her to the clinic?  What she said next about knocked me off my feet.  I have been exposed to a lot spending time in the township and doing many mobile clinics, but...

Here is where the anger starts.

The woman calmly explained to me that her neighbor is very sick and very weak.  She cannot get out of bed on her own.  The neighbors help her go to the bathroom and shower.  When her brother goes to work the men from the community come over and rape her, over and over, everyday.  This woman is so weak she can’t defend herself, she can’t even scream.  What??  First, I can’t even comprehend the situation.  I am angry at the men.  Then I realize that the same neighbors that help her don’t defend her from the rape.  I am angry at them.  Very angry.  Suddenly, I hate this place.  I hate the township.  I hate the people.  I am overwhelmed with anger. 

The initial flood of emotion quickly turned to compassion.  I wanted to help this girl.  Two of our team and a counselor, accompanied by the neighbor, went to the shack where this woman lived.  When we knocked on the door a man answered, it was her brother.  What was he doing to protect her?  I was angry.  The next moment a girl appeared.  She looked to be about fourteen years old; it was the 29 year old woman.  She was shaking.  Someone brought her a broken chair.  Her brother brought her medical papers, she has Epilepsy.  The counselor asked if they would accept Christ so that she could pray for them.  They agreed.  She prayed.  A tear rolled down my cheek. 

How do we get her to the clinic?  Her brother offered to carry her on his back.  Now you want to help?  We decided to carry her in the chair.  The distance wasn’t too far, but we walked through large potholes in the dirt road, over mounds of garbage and through small openings between shacks to get to the clinic.  Straight to the front of the line.  She was instantly swarmed by loving people.  She was well taken care of and many of us prayed for her.  The doctors spent time with her. 

Then as quick as she came she was gone.  Just another patient...

I am glad that we were able to get her to the clinic.  I am glad that we could love on her and pray for her.  I am sad that she has to go back to her shack and back to the daily life of lying in bed waiting for the daily rape.  No one to protect her, no one to love her...

I am sad, I am angry, I am hurt.  I feel helpless, I want to help.  I realize that I can’t. 

Somedays are really hard.  Somedays are really, really hard.

On those days I pray.

wS