The Duka

Sorry it's been a while... lots to process lately. And we (Brant and I) have been sick with some type of stomach virus/parasite/amoeba thing that is really common to get and really hard to shake.

So last week we went to the "duka" for Penny.... A duka is basically a 3 day long mourning period where people come and pay respects. The day we went it was drizzly and gray... a good day for crying. Penny's family lives in this one room little wooden shack - no running water, no electricity, dirt floor. A big tarp had been set up outside the house. It was muddy. Old men were sitting in one back corner, in the other corner a group of ladies were cooking. One side had a cook fire going and a group of kids huddled on the other. In the center, totally by herself, and almost oblivious to the action around here, sat Penny's mom on a little stool.

I cried when I saw her. She cried. We just held each other and cried and cried.

She told me of the last few weeks of Penny's life. How her breathing became more labored daily. How she wouldn't eat. How she was coughing up blood. How the doctors said there was nothing they could do.

I cried.

What could I say to her? Me, with my white skin and healthy, chubby babies... Me, with my nice big house with tile floors and a toilet and stove and fans and electric lights... Me, with a bank account that has enough money to buy my kids medicine when they get sick, and meat to feed them dinner, and birthday presents for their special days. It doesn't seem right.

Penny's mom was doing better than I was. She's part of this rough, raw culture that accepts that life is hard and death is common in a world with poor nutrition and inadequate medical care. I am still the new missionary, fighting against things I don't like and I don't understand. Fighting a world where little girls die because they are poor.

All this was going through my mind as I held her and we cried - as two mothers from vastly different cultures - mourning the loss of a beautiful little child we loved.

We left Penny's family sitting in the mud. It was raining and the tarp was leaking. The boys were ready to eat, but we didn't dare take one scrap of their food. So we got in our car and drove away. Back to our nice big house a world away. Back to movie night and popcorn and smoothies like any other Saturday night.

I don't understand Penny's death. I don't like it at all and I admit I have had moments of guilt and doubt and "If only.....???" But I am resting in the fact that the Lord loved Penny more than I ever could. And I am resting in the fact that the Lord knew Penny's name - when the doctors just saw "a poor little tribal girl with uneducated parents" and decided she wasn't worth treating, God created her. Formed her. Cared for her. Died for her. I am so thankful we serve a God like that.