May 2003
Hi Everybody,
Thank you for the things you have sent. The following list is
incomplete, but you get the idea.
The Golden Pen Award For Excellence in Mathematics, courtesy
of Troy Presbyterian Church: beautiful cobalt blue pens with gold
trim were offered for the first student to complete 20 long-multiplication
problems. The competition was intense, but Nampiima Christine
arose as the primary seven champion. In addition, everyone who
corrected their papers got a plain black pen (also courtesy of
Troy Pres). Boy, did they love math that day!
Five weeks ago, one of our primary seven girls died in the dormitory.
For more about Kemi’s death, see below.
Everyone was upset. The girls have no other activities to distract
them, so they probably talked about nothing else from Wednesday
until Sunday. The weekend after Kemi's death, Lark O'Neal sent
a package with a ball in it. The girls love to play netball (sort
of like basketball with no backboard or dribbling) but they have
no ball. The boys always get first dibs on anything resembling
a soccer ball. But this one, it seemed, was clearly for the girls.
No words about soccer and it was red, our school color. Fiona
was quickly named "Keeper of the Netball,” and the
girls were out playing as soon as classes let out on Monday afternoon.
A blessed distraction from thinking about Kemi's death.
An Indiglo watch from Ann Kennedy has been an excellent resource.
During the rainy season, toads come up through the pipes into
the toilet. When electricity is not available (1-3 times per week)
and there is a splashing sound from the toilet, no problem. I
take the Indiglo and a plastic bag and remove the toad to the
back yard. We're all happier that way.
Our library has gone from 13 books to about 150, including books
and great animal magazines from so many people that I've lost
track. Imagine children looking at books like they want to eat
them. That's about what it's like, but now they don't have to
have seven people feasting on the same book. We even have a little
reference section with an atlas and several maps and children's
Bibles. Please keep sending books!
Our other three schools need them too.
For everything you send, there has been a blessing for the children
and for me and, probably most of all, for you. Thanks for your
encouragement and thanks for thinking about us.
Love,
Ruth
P.S. on the 4th of July
I wasn't able to send out this letter in May (if you're getting
this the address book is functional again) and forgot about it
until yesterday. That's when we received another six boxes (the
customs lady sighs at me, but now it's in a nice way). We were
hoping upon hope that the soccer balls had come and they did.
Thankfully. We were having a six-school tournament today and our
only ball had to be blown up several times during a game.
Not only did we receive three glamorous new soccer balls and
a pump from Peachtree Presbyterian, but they were accompanied
by a note from Norman and Dot Fletcher. They wrote saying how
their grandchildren loved soccer, and they thought we might like
to have these. It was my favorite part of the whole box, because
when I bring the things you send, it's like a good version of
shooting the messenger. They all thank me, no matter how much
I credit people specifically. Sometimes I even make them say,
"Madam Ruth did not buy these for us" two or three times.
They still wouldn't believe it.
Now I have written evidence! "See, I told you so! God cares
for you through many different people. Norm and Dot love their
grandchildren and that made them think of you. And they are just
two of the people who love you from far away. So, ha!"
Here's the rest of the story regarding Kemi’s
death, which is short for “Kemirembe,” which means
peace.
Nanyanzi Kemirimbe, age 16, died on Tuesday, April 15, 2003.
There was no official word on what killed her. (People don't take
their relatives for autopsies. Too expensive and people say the
hospital takes parts without asking.)
Kemi fell ill after dinner and a fight with her ex-boyfriend.
Some people say she swallowed watch batteries to kill herself.
Some say it was witchcraft. Whatever it was, she died thirty minutes
later. The ill part was fast, uncontrollable breathing with Kemi
saying, "Nfa, Nfa." (I'm dying, I'm dying.) And she
was right. She died. Now her feet are in the narrow end of a coffin,
and she is buried in a fluffy, white, little-girl dress that she
would hate. Sixteen hundred pounds of concrete are drying on top
of her grave.
A student made fun of Kemi once saying she was just a girl from
the slums of Tanzania. At the time I thought, "The girl is
in the top three in her class, featured as a dancer and singer
in every school production, and trusted as a prefect. It's a credit
to her that she came from such a difficult background." Wish
I'd told her that.
I think about Kemi almost every day before I get out of bed.
No more opening her eyes. No more breathing or moving. I'm supposed
to be dead too, but I'm not. I can open my eyes and look through
Christ's eyes. I can breathe and move on Christ's behalf. I forget
this on a regular basis, but Jesus forgives me and I get a new
shot at it every day.
Christians read and hear this often, but Kemi's death was hard
physical evidence for me.
Now I know it.
Peace in Christ's name,
Ruth
The 2003 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.
44 |
