Hands

By Jedi Adia

Disclaimer: The song “Hands” does not belong to me, it belongs to Jewel. But everything else is mine.

Author’s Note: Every four seconds one African gets infected with AIDS, due to the bad conditions of the Third World countries in Africa. It is the goal of the Drop the Debt Coalition and DATA to erase Third World debt and help the sick and impoverished in Africa. This story is dedicated to Bono and all of the others who are working to make life better for the people in Africa. Please support them.

Drop the Debt Campaign: http://www.jubilee2000uk.org, http://www.jubileeusa.org

Democracy, Accountability, and Transparency in Africa (also Debt, AIDS, and Trade in Africa): http://www.datadata.org

Artists Against AIDS Worldwide: http://www.aaaw.org

From the sky, it looked peaceful. Beautiful, even. But as a Peace Corps volunteer, Iris Baylor knew better. She had been briefed before the flight and thus knew what to expect – mostly. She knew Malawi was a land ravaged by poverty and suffering, and she wanted to put a stop to it. It terrified her that people could live the way she’d been told that these people were living. She had been told that the Malawians lived in poor, unsanitary conditions. The place was ravaged by disease – AIDS, mostly -, there was little to no food, and schools and jobs? They hadn’t told her much, but she had a feeling she didn’t want anyone to tell her until she saw it for herself anyway.

The small plane cruised down to an open area - they didn’t have much for airports here – and settled down, stirring up dust. They were setting up in Mangoche, a town south of the capital of Lilongwe. Iris couldn’t see much yet, but she figured that there wouldn’t be much to see at all. As the plane came to a stop, she gathered the one bag she’d brought with her and led the way out the door and down into a place where some people would never dare to tread. Those were the people that didn’t care.

They walked toward some nearby buildings that looked like nothing more than shacks. Iris could see small children, clothes in seeming tatters and covered in dust. As she walked closer to them, she could see the sadness in their eyes. This is what poverty did to them. They were children to whom happiness never paid a visit.

`If I could tell the world just one thing

It would be that we’re all ok

And not to worry `cause worry is wasteful

And useless in times like these’

“Look at them,” she whispered. “This is what it’s like to have nothing…what are we doing? Where are we staying?”

“Something’s been set up just beyond the edge of town,” Cameron said from behind her. He was her partner for this trip. “That’s where we’re headed right now, to leave our stuff and settle in and then we’ll get started here.”

Iris nodded an agreement, but couldn’t take her eyes off of the impoverished children. How could they live here? This place was not for the ultimate picture of innocence. But then, she figured, that’s why people like herself were here – to make life better for those who lived here.

Eventually, they reached the single building surrounded by four smaller shanties. It was not unlike the shantytowns of the Great Depression. It was actually only a bit bigger than the shanties that surrounded it.

“The shanties are no bigger than what people live in here, and the bigger building is one floor with about nine rooms. A kitchen and offices, mostly.” He paused and looked at Iris, whose eyebrow was raised. “Something in resemblance of offices,” he amended.

“We’re not sure how to help these people and you built a compound?”

“We wanted something like an embassy out in the field,” Cameron explained.

“So I take it you have ideas,” Iris said. Cameron nodded.

“Let’s get settled first,” Cameron said, as he led her to one of the shanties.

Myri came back toward the house, or what passed for a house, with a bucket of water. It was dirty, but she was used to it. At fourteen, she knew nothing else. She tugged the bucket through the open door into darkness. What greeted her was a scene she saw every day. Her mother lying on a small pile of blankets, and her five brothers and sisters gathered around the room. Her mother wasn’t well; AIDS was rapidly consuming her. Myri estimated that her mother didn’t have very long, but she would have liked to have a doctor tell her that. Maybe the doctor would tell her she was wrong, that her mother would live…

`I won’t be made useless

I won’t be idle with despair

I will gather myself around my faith

For light does the darkness most fear’

The next day, Myri trudged off to school. She met her friend Taina half-way, as usual. Only today, her friend’s face was red, and her cheeks were covered in trails left by tears. “Taina?”

“I…never thought it would reach me. I guess I was too stupid to think that. After all, my boy friend has it. I – I feel like such an idiot. How was I so stupid? I never asked him...”

“Taina…no…you can’t blame yourself,” Myri said. “Maybe you should go home. I can come by after school and we can talk.” She hugged her friend and ran on down the road. She waited until she was a safe distance away before she let the tears fall.

`My hands are small, I know

But they’re not yours, they are my own

And I am never broken.’

A few hours later, Myri and the other students looked up when the door opened and two strangers, a man and a woman, walked in. They looked different. The kids had never seen them before. They began to walk around as the students tried to concentrate on their studies. The strangers spoke to a few of them, and looked around, as the students covered the lessons of the day. Before Myri knew it, class was over. The people were still there, yet neither of them had spoken to her. As everyone left, she rushed to catch up with the woman.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Iris,” the woman said, looking at her. “What’s yours?”

“Myri.” A pause. Then, “Can you help my friend? She’s sick. So’s my mom.”

The woman stopped walking. “That’s why we’re here…we want to help you. Why don’t you take me to them?” She took the girl’s hand and they went first to Taina’s house.

When the door opened, Iris found herself in a darkened house with two rooms. A boy and a girl came out from the other room to meet them. Iris introduced herself at the questioning look from the girl.

“She’s come to help you, Taina. She’s come to help all of us,” Myri said.

“Who’s that with you, Taina?” Iris said. The boy looked to be many years younger.

“He’s my brother Ainad. Our mother died giving birth to him. There was no doctor to help her.” These last words were barely heard amongst her sobs. “And our father has gone to Lilongwe to find work. He said he’d come back for us, but…he must not have found anything yet.”

“I don’t think it’s that much better in Lilongwe than it is here, Taina,” Myri said.

A couple hours later, they went on to Myri’s house. Iris had been told about the living conditions of big families, but nothing prepared her for Myri’s home. The mother was very sick, as Myri had said. But it was nothing new. Every four seconds, someone else was getting infected with the HIV virus. There was nothing to control it. The woman was very pale, and it was obvious that the virus was in its last stages. It wouldn’t be long for her now.

“Mom? Someone’s here who says they can help us,” Myri said. The woman was unresponsive, and Iris’ heart broke at the sight of her. She watched as Myri ran over. Iris would have helped, but she really didn’t have any medical experience. Myri bent over her mother, calling for her over and over again. It was then that Iris heard a soft moan. She stepped forward to take her pulse.

“Who’s that?”

“Her name’s Iris. She’s here to save us,” Myri said. Inside, Iris’ heart wrenched, but she gave a forced smile. As Myri’s attention focused on her mother and the other children, Iris slowly edged toward the door. Cameron was probably wondering where she was. She wanted so badly to help these people. And they so trusted her. What if she let them down?

`Poverty stole your golden shoes

It didn’t steal your laughter

And heartache came to visit me

But I knew it wasn’t ever after’

That night, Cameron was waiting for her at the compound.

“I went to visit a couple of houses. If you could call them that,” Iris said. “We have to help them. There was this one girl who badly hopes for aid. Her mother’s dying. This other girl is her friend and her mother’s dead, and she’s dying. And that school…six or seven children share one book, Cameron. How will they learn? How will they survive?”

“They won’t, if we don’t do something,” Cameron answered. “We’ll find a way.”

`We’ll fight, not out of spite

For someone must stand up for what’s right

`Cause where there’s a man who has no voice

There ours shall go singing’

The next day, Iris woke to a knocking on her door. She went to open it and found Myri there, her cheeks stained by trails left by tears.

“Mom died last night…a few hours after you left us,” Myri said. There was something about the way she said it, like she was accusing Iris.

“Myri, come in,” Iris said. The girl did as she was told and sat down in a chair.

“What’s going to happen to all of us?” Myri asked. “I’ll have to leave school and-“

“You’re not leaving school, Myri,” Iris said. “You don’t have to stop learning.”

“What will happen to my brothers and sisters? I can’t go to school and leave them alone for the entire day.”

“Your friend Taina leaves Ainad home alone every day. He’s not ready to start school yet either. Almost, but not quite.”

Myri’s lower lip quivered, as more tears threatened to spill over. “I’m…not sure what I should do.”

“Not giving up would be a good start,” Iris said, as she put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Because I won’t give up either.” She echoed Cameron’s words. “We’ll find a way.”

`My hands are small I know

But they’re not yours, they are my own

I am never broken’

After Myri left, Iris turned to Cameron. “I wish I knew what to do,” she whispered.

“We know that nothing is really working right now. We’re setting up a small clinic to see if we can help at least a small portion of the population. It shouldn’t be difficult. There aren’t many left.”

“How? A lot of these people have never seen a pill before.”

“We teach them. It’s only a town, but we’ll do this one town at a time,” Cameron said. “You know what they say: `If you give a man a fish, you feed him for a day. If you teach a man to fish, you feed him for a lifetime.’”

“And the money? Where’s the money going to come from to do this?” Iris asked. “We going to sell candy bars? Hold an international bake sale? What?”

“The Peace Corps. More people like us. We’ll all do what we signed on to do, Iris,” Cameron said.

“This probably sounds a lot easier than it really is,” Iris said.

“Oh, probably. But when you join the Peace Corps, you are basically trained to expect the hard way.”

`In the end only kindness matters

In the end only kindness matters

I will get down on my knees and I will pray

My hands are small I know

But they’re not yours, they are my own

And I am never broken’

The next day, Iris went into the school and helped to teach Myri’s class. She worked as well as she could with their meager resources, but despite that, she felt that Cameron was right. There was hope, and it was in the picture of innocence.

`My hands are small I know

But they’re not yours, they are my own

And I am never broken”

We are never broken’