Where He leads...: June 2010

Her name is Shiwa. In just a few weeks, she has jumped fiercely into my heart and seeing her is one of my greatest joys of any given day. Shiwa is an orphan who's father passed away and who's mother abandoned her. She lives with her grandmother, just a few houses over from Esther and Kaita. Shiwa accompanies Esther to FHS on occasion or with her grandmother Johannes just for a visit. Sometimes she even "attends" the kindergarten in the adjoining room... until her attention span is up and she runs away to come find me. When she is around, we are pretty much inseparable, and I wouldn't have it any other way. (Kaita is getting a bit jealous...)

Sometimes I feel her before I see her, as she'll run up behind me and latch onto my legs. I'll turn around and there she is, beaming, arms up ready for me to hold her. She just turned 3 years old at the beginning of this month, but she is a bit small for her age... perfect for me, since I enjoy toting her around the center wherever I go.

What you notice first about Shiwa is her big smile. What you may not notice for a while is that Shiwa is deaf. She'll spout out all kinds of sounds, but no words--as it is probable she has been deaf from birth. This does not hinder our communication whatsoever. We point, we laugh, we tickle, we kiss, and we love.

My heart breaks, however, to think of the challenges this beautiful little girl has ahead of her. The challenges are countless for all of the children in Katutura, but especially one with a physical handicap stacked against her. It's my desire, or perhaps you could call it my mission, to help provide whatever resources are necessary for Shiwa and her grandmother so that she will be able to live a fulfilled and successful life. For one thing, that will mean enrolling her in a special education program. There is an organization in Namibia called CLaSH, The Association for Children with Learning, Speech and Hearing Impairments. I spoke with the director to learn more about ways to help Shiwa. First, Shiwa's hearing must be officially tested before we can proceed further with special education options. Namibia has a very interesting health system and procedures which I won't go into detail, but to begin, Shiwa's grandmother needed to take her to two clinics in order to get the referral to go to the ENT clinic at Central Hospital. From there, I volunteered to help them get the brain stem audiogram needed for her hearing assessment. It was found that Shiwa is completely deaf in her right ear and has some (but very little) residual hearing in her left ear. She can't hear conversations, more like she may hear a big truck driving by, but at that decibel, it's a bit like she is feeling it more than hearing it. Maybe a hearing aid would help her, mostly for the benefit of hearing a danger before crossing the road. We will pursue the benefits of that option.

For now, the grandmother needs to get her a birth certificate... a common issues and obstacle for many OVCs here. Once she does that, we can begin the application process for special education. There is even a nearby kindergarten especially for children with hearing and speech impairments. Shiwa will eventually need to learn sign language. I wonder if the grandmother will also try to learn, which would obviously be ideal. I even thought about attending a class or two. It is also my hope that Shiwa will eventually become registered at FHS so that she can have a sponsor to help with school fees once she is accepted into a special education program. For now, I have been spoiling her a bit with some new clothes and yummy treats.

I'm collecting a pretty huge list of names of people that I am going to have such a hard time leaving behind when it's finally my time to say goodbye. Shiwa is at the top of the list, and I think it is the young ones that make it the most difficult, since they don't really understand the whole coming and going process. Many have already been abandoned, and I can only pray that they don't perceive me as yet another person in their life to do just that. That is where I must simply pray and trust God that He has purposely brought each of these special children into my life, and He is going to care for and protect them despite what (or who) may come and go. But for now, I am here. And Shiwa will be loved with every ounce of my being.

I have a unique friendship with two very special ladies at FHS... Esther and Ouma. Esther is the head cook and Ouma is, well, she's just Ouma! She's the eldest lady at FHS so "she's in charge"--in her own sort of way. What makes my friendship so unique is that they speak very little English and I, of course, have yet to master--or really even try to master--Oshiwambo. I learned how to greet people early on, and that receives enough smiles and sometimes laughs to get me by without being able to really say anything else. So my conversational relationship with Esther and Ouma consists of a lot of head nodding, hand gestures, and--my favorite--laughter. I have no idea what they are saying 95% of the time, but they are hilarious! I was just telling Cindy that my experience in Namibia would be completely different if I could actually understand what Ouma was saying. She constantly has everyone in stitches... well, everyone who can understand Oshiwambo, and then the rest of us who just enjoy watching her and laugh sincerely because everyone else is laughing. Despite the language barrier, I consider these two women to be dear friends. I enjoy making them happy. I am not sure exactly what they enjoy from my side of the friendship... maybe I can have someone translate that awkward question to them... but I receive constant smiles and occasional hugs so I suppose I am doing something right.

Ouma is always admiring our clothing, our shoes, our bags, and so on. She will see something I have, call me over, and start pointing to it, saying something in her language, pointing back to herself, and nodding with a big smile on her face. This means, she wants one... buy one for her. To which I often reply, I got this in Ghana, or Kenya, or in America. She gives up on her request, though still smiling. On a particular day recently, Ouma was admiring my coat. It was to brown, soft, to my knees, and quite warm on a suddenly frigid day in Namibia. She pointed to the thin cotton cardigan she was wearing and briskly rubbed her arms as if to warm them up. "Ootalala," she was repeating. Forgive my probable botched spelling, but the meaning of this word/expression is "cold". We say it often to each other on days like these. She was standing by Esther who was nodding in agreement to Ouma's rant. I didn't need a translator to know what she was saying. It went something like this, "That is a really nice coat you have on. It looks really warm. Look at these thin layers we are wearing in our best attempt to stay warm. It's not working and we are very cold. We would love to have a coat like yours. Something to keep us warm on bitterly cold days like these." Without knowing her exact words, I don't know if she directly asked me to provide coats for them or not, but my heart opened to them with compassion and I knew that providing them with coats was something I definitely wanted to do. I got their general sizes and made a mental note to find them both a coat within the next week. A few days later I went to one store, determined to find something suitable. The women's section didn't really have anything warm or big enough. I headed to the men's section and found some coats that fit the bill, though obviously quite different from mine. I didn't think they would mind. It took quite a while for me to settle on sizes, repeatedly holding them up, picturing the frames of the two women, wondering which would be the best fit. I finally selected the coats, each about $13US, and headed back to FHS. Ecstatic is an understatement for their reaction. Elizabeth was around to translate when Esther tried on her coat, immediately zipped it up, put on the hood and stated, "The cold can come even more now. I will defend it!" I laughed and did a couple air punches to mimic some Winter Defender, though I think my dramatization was also somehow lost in translation. Ouma, in her typical Ouma tradition, did her happy Ouma dance. I clapped and laughed some more.

And what else are friends for but to make each other laugh... to love and respect each other despite all differences... and to have compassion, helping each other in every way possible to walk triumphantly through this life.

On Wednesday we took some kids to the petting zoo. This was a field trip that Linda organized and she plans to take all 100 kids in the enrichment program by the end of the term. Wednesday morning began with 16 eager children waiting excitedly for us to pick them up for the field trip. “Will we see lions?” one of them asked with an innocent grin. “No,” I replied, “only animals that won’t want to eat us for lunch.”

The animals we did see included goats, ponies, cows, warthogs, meerkats, monkeys, llamas, eland, ducks, an ostrich, and more. The children were all smiles—and occasionally squeals when the monkeys or ostrich took food from their hands too quickly.

There was also a large playground and the kids had never-ending fun climbing, swinging, and sliding. Despite the cold, I would definitely call the day a great success. I am already excited to take the next group in two weeks!

Piled in our cars and eager to go see the animals!

Say, "Cheese!"

I think having an animal as big as an eland loose in a petting zoo in America would be a lawsuit waiting to happen! TIA!

Watching the kids feed the monkeys was definitely a highlight for me!

I never knew there were so many different ways to slide down a slide!

Saturday was a big day for FHS—Distribution Day! Using funds allotted to us by local charity organizations we were able to purchase and distribute new shoes, blankets, and toiletry items to all of the children registered in the feeding program, enrichment program, or remedial program... around 250 kids in all. In addition to those items I was able to purchase a pair of socks for each of those children with funds that some of you graciously donated.

It was a busy day but it went by quickly because of all the joyful smiles on the faces of the children and their parents. :)

Parents and kids alike were excited for the big day!

Shoes and more shoes! Each stuffed with a brand new pair of socks.

Foibe's daughter Gift decided it was time for a break!

As most of you are beginning to enjoy the warmer weather, it is becoming quite chilly here! Winter is approaching, and many families are scrambling to prepare themselves for the season. Within the next few weeks, 250 of the FHS children will be getting a new pair of shoes for school. Children here are required to wear uniforms to school, and with the uniforms they must wear black dress shoes. FHS has received funds that will allow us to purchase these shoes for many of the kids. For the last several days, we have been measuring each child so we can order the right sizes. I have been heavily involved in this process. Several kids don’t even wear shoes to the center, and many who do don’t have socks—another requirement for their uniform. After over one hundred kids, I can count on one hand the socks I did see that didn’t have holes in them. Some of them were barely hanging on by a thread.

As the colder months are approaching, it is my desire that none of these children will be without socks to warm their feet. That is where you can help! I want to begin purchasing and distributing socks to these children and there are two ways that you can assist me with this goal.

You can mail new or like new socks (all sizes from age 5-17) to:

Hannah Sterling
PO Box 40267
Windhoek, Namibia

(It takes about 1 month for mail to arrive from the States.)

2) You can send money to purchase the socks by writing a check out to “Hannah Sterling” and mailing to my mom. Email me if you would like the address.

Please write “Socks” in the memo and my mom will deposit the money into an account I can access from here.

Thank you for thinking of the children this winter. I complain often about how cold it is in my house in the city, but I cannot imagine what it is like to live in a tin shack with cold air coming through all of the holes and gaps. Brrr! Help me add a little comfort to their lives by keeping them warm, feet first!

I just held hands with a man I found lying on the side of the road. Apparently he had been hit by a car and was suffering from a serious head injury.

I had left FHS on my way to run errands before meeting up with a friend, tired and frustrated that the route I had chosen resulted in the most traffic… when I had aimed for the least. I noticed cars parked where they wouldn’t normally be and a crowd gathered along the side of the road, the way they do when there is an accident. As the traffic slowly crept along, I saw first the shining head of a man lying on the ground. Shiny, from blood. Then, his still body came into view. My first thought was that he was dead. This thought remained even as I was passing directly beside him. Finally I saw his arm move, and I pulled my car over into an empty spot. I hesitated briefly, “What could I really do to help?” I thought. But I’ve been in similar situations in the past, happening upon a recent accident, sitting beside and even in the car of men who had been injured in an accident. This was going to be another one of those times.

There was an Afrikaaner (or maybe European) man kneeling over the body. He had just brought a stethoscope from his car to the man. “Can I help you?” I asked. Part of my thinking was that I could be the assistant to this medical man… maybe that would be an important role for me to play. The man said that he had been a paramedic for ten years and he started to tell me about the man’s injuries and how he was drifting in and out of consciousness. I am not sure how long the man had been lying there. This other man had seen him from his car as well and stopped to help. I knelt beside the injured man. He was sweating profusely. I tried to arrange his clothing in a way to keep him cool. I asked some of the other men (all just standing around) to stand where they could block the sun from beating down on his head. I held his hand. And I prayed.

The man on the ground never said a word. I’m not sure he could have spoken if he wanted to, and I didn’t want to try and force him, realizing that every breath was already a painstaking task. He raised his finger a few times, as if wanting to say something, but nothing ever came out. Priority one was to keep him still, and priority two was to just be there… a silent encourager at his side.

I still wasn’t sure what had happened. It was only until the police came that another man immediately stepped forward and admitted that he was the one who had struck the man with his car. I didn’t pay attention to any more of the details. I noticed one of the man’s shoes was missing so I went searching, the policeman and the driver who hit him helped. The point of impact, based on where the glass had shattered, was at least 20 feet away. Had this man landed at the spot where he now lies? Definitely possible.

“Where is the ambulance?” I kept wondering out loud and to myself. Finally it came. The man who had been helping continued to assist in preparing the injured man for the ambulance ride. The other paramedics seemed to appreciate the help. I was a little surprised they did not at least cover the bleeding wound before putting him on the stretcher… maybe they do that at the hospital but he was losing a lot of blood.

I thanked the other man, who did introduce himself but I am terrible with names, and told him he did a good thing today. He said that yesterday he had found himself also at the scene of an accident and was able to help. “God is using you,” I told him. “You’re doing an important thing.”

He also thanked me for helping, even though I admitted that I hadn’t really done anything but that I had been praying. “Just being there is important,” he said.

I walked to my car, driving away with intense emotions. Just being there IS important. That’s why I had gotten out of the car in the first place. That’s why I am involved in my ministry here. Even if I do nothing else, I want to be there for these kids and others in this community… to love, to encourage, and to pray for them. Would you also pray for them? And please pray with me, today, for the healing of this man.

Below is the latest FHS Newsletter edited by fellow missionary Cindy McClamma. You will be blessed to read through it, especially the article about Ouma. Her life story is typical of many here. The tragedy of the losses she has faced is unimaginable and yet she still radiates with joy and hope. She makes me laugh at least once a day. Today, I taught her how to use a can opener. She was happy and quite proud of herself. :)

(Click to enlarge)

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