Love of a grand parent
Love of a Grandparent
Arriving at the hospital, the sidewalks were packed with people, mothers, fathers, children and family members that had all made a journey to the hospital, a journey each in its own, heart wrenching a story of courage and hope and most of all love within a family and the self belief that some how this journey was going to bring about change in their child’s life. This process was somehow going to install that self respect that their child’s inner beauty can radiate out to the world, gone will be the outer shell of torment.
Sitting on the side walk was a young man, a yellow peak cap casting a shadow on his twisted distorted mouth. As I walked passed he looked up, the sun light caught the gaping hole that the cleft lip had left on his upper lip, his exposed teeth reflecting in the sun. Our eyes met as he dropped his head in shame. Sitting next to him was an old man, a panama hat on, well dressed, but it was not this that stood out, there was something special about him. He tipped his head with a light nod of acknowledgement as I passed, his arm slowly embracing the young man, giving him a loving hug.
Next to me I heard Lizelle’s voice with a quiet quiver in it.
“David, please let me know are they going to help him – please tell me”, as she tugged on my arm. I could not give and answer. “Liz, I can’t make a promise to anyone, there is a screening process that has to be adhered to”. Later the morning I saw the two of them in the screening queue. With the help of the interpreter I went up to chat to them – an incredible story unfolded. Their journey began in the North East of Madagascar.
For the past six months his grandfather has been farming for 1 reason, to sell all he can grow in order to raise funds to pay for their transport to Antananarivo that he could bring his grandson to the surgical mission, to see if he could receive his God given right to a smile. They left their village the last week in August, for two weeks the travelled, firstly on foot to a bigger village, then with various forms of transport they finally arrived at the hospital on Sunday the 12th of September.
Yesterday they sat quietly under the tree with about 500 other people, waiting for their name to be called. I sat watching, hoping and praying that they would be accepted. The old man graciously sat with his grandson, arm on his leg just staring ahead and listening as the names were being called out.
Suddenly he jumped up and raised his hand. He then bent down and pulled his grandson up by the arm, hugging him, he then regained his composure and quietly walked off to the group of people who were accepted, tears streaming down his face he proudly looked ahead, knowing his journey was going to make a difference.