Then Jesus told them this parable:
“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ – Luke 15
“Today we’re going to the home of a Masai woman who has twin babies that may be malnourished. We’ll ask her some questions, and if they need help, hopefully we can bring them back with us.”
This from Grace, director of Neema Village’s MAP (Mothers Against Poverty) program.
Basden and I climbed into the backseat of the 4-Runner. I noticed the car had a third row if we’d need it, but no car seats for those baby twins. Hmmnn. Like so many things in Tanzania, I would just wait and see how this all played out.
Heavenlight, a longtime Neema employee and Grace’s MAP assistant, continued, “We will meet the grandfather in Arusha, and he can show us how to get to the home. This will be at least an hour drive, maybe two; we’ve never been there before. We will see!”
It felt alluring to accompany Grace and Heavenlight on this mission. My intrigue trumped any discomfort about traveling “somewhere we’ve never been,” but it felt like an intimate errand for two Texas ladies to barge in on. I trusted Grace and Heavenlight in their decision to include us.
As this was my first visit to Neema Village, first time in Tanzania, and first time in Africa, people-watching completely entertained me on the drive through Arusha. We pulled over by what looked like a motorcycle convention, and Grace spoke to a couple of men. After a few minutes, a man about my age got in the car beside us.
At his instruction, we drove across the street and onto a dirt road. For the next 45 minutes, this man directed Heavenlight on turn after turn. My untrained eye saw only fields and trees along the bumpy dirt roads. No landmarks, absolutely no street signs, no signs of electricity or running water. Just a rollercoaster drive along the dirt, and often muddy, path. I was curious to see if we’d make it to our destination. Not only because it felt like an endless wilderness trek, but I don’t know how the tires would hold up on that path. We needed a 4-wheeler instead of a 4-Runner!
We passed occasional homes, a couple of tiny “storefronts” – a wooden shack with a display of Crocs, and several hand-painted “beauty saloons” signs. We crossed field after field of sunflowers, and what looked like a few landfills overflowing with plastic water bottles. We drove alongside a few children in school uniforms, and as we met eyes, they gasped “mzungu!” and jumped back from our car.
Finally, we turned into a modest homestead – a couple of small (tiny!) brick buildings, with several women and children on a blanket spread in the shade of a tree. Again, I felt the weight of a stranger imposing on an intimate meeting. One of the women and a young boy, about ten years old, quickly brought out colorful plastic chairs and arranged them in a circle next to our car.
Heavenlight leaned toward us, “We will interview Esther, the mom, and based on what she shares, we may offer to take her back to Neema.” One of the women, with a slight smile, handed me a baby. Basden gasped and whispered, “Mom, look at her eyelashes – she is beautiful.”
Esther, tall and fragile, with no trace of a smile, walked toward us holding the other twin. The older children joined us, and Grace and Heavenlight began their interview. Now and then, one of them would fill us in:
“Esther is 34 years old. She said that about the time her oldest son was born, ten years ago, her husband went crazy. Not with alcohol, but his mind became different. He quit going to work and slept all day.”
“When her husband found out she was pregnant with twins, he beat her. That’s why she is now blind in one eye, and she keeps her head tightly wrapped because of constant headaches.”
“All of these years, Esther has had to work and take care of her children. Her husband does not work or help. She is now here with her father, at his house, but her husband is not far away.”
I was struggling to process that the eleven-pound baby girl in my arms, with her mile-long eyelashes, was twenty-two months old. She drifted between sleep and awake, but with a rather vacant expression. Other than opening her eyes, she didn’t peep, didn’t cry, didn’t move.
Heavenlight unwrapped one of the twins’ blankets and inspected her little body. Tiniest little twigs for arms and legs. Other than her length, she looked like a newborn.
Eventually, one of the women came out of the home carrying a rusted, tin suitcase. We would be taking Esther and the babies back with us. I looked at Simeon, Esther’s oldest son, and he stared back at me with the deepest, darkest brown eyes. How could I possibly communicate love through this exchange? That we were taking his mother and sisters out of care?
“Lord,” I begged, “help Simeon and his younger sister to understand.”
We loaded up, and our car rambled out of the clearing back onto the dirt path. I whispered to Basden, “Do you think Esther is relieved, or terrified? Or both?”
Less than two minutes into our drive, Esther hoisted the twin she’d been holding across the car to Basden and promptly stuck her head out of the window. For the next hour and a half, the entire drive back to Neema Village, poor Esther remained in that position – head out the window, sick, sick, sick. She was not accustomed to riding in cars, not used to seeing the trees move past.
About the time Esther started getting sick, I felt the wetness on my legs through my twin’s blankets. So here we were: sick momma, wet babies, with gradad spouting directings to Heavenlight from the third row. We passed back by a few more startled school children, a few farmers with their livestock on the road, more sunflower fields, and a few remote homes.
He left the ninety-nine and went after the one.
It felt so clear. The parable played out in real time. Neema Village is already bursting with 80+ babies. And yet we drove miles into Masai country, in search of one particular home, and two particular twin baby girls.
The next morning, back at Neema Village, Dr. Teddy examined the twins. She said that there’s a scale for malnourished babies from -1 to -3, and these babies were off the charts at a -5, a number that doesn’t even exist. The babies were taken to a local hospital that focuses on malnutrition. The doctor told Dr. Teddy that had Neema not intervened, one of the twins would have died within the week.
Leaving the ninety-nine for the one.
Or in this case, the two.
I don’t know how these twin girls will fare, how their momma Esther will fare, or what their future holds. But my heart is touched with the privilege of being present for this exchange. And witnessing the Neema family give their time, their resources, and their energy to search for this family whom they’ve never even met, who will likely give nothing back in return.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, for going after the one (two!). For allowing us to join in for a small part of that journey. And for Neema’s role as your hands and feet. It makes a world of difference for these little sheep.
**Update – After about a week in the malnutrition hospital, Esther and the twins were brought back to Neema. They will have food, a comfortable room, community, and medical care for the foreseeable future. Basden said that Esther also has a smile.
To learn more about Neema Village, check out their website or follow on social media. Or, take Basden’s advice, and GO volunteer in person! What an eye-opening adventure.