Jane

I pulled this straight off of my friend/ex-coworker's blog. I know it's a copyright infringement, but honestly, there isn't a lot she can do to prosecute me from Malawi.

This is the story about a lady named Jane that I had the opportunity to meet and on one occasion transport to the hospital while in Malawi. Cynthia did a great job portraying who she was and what Home-based Care looks like in Malawi. So, I thought you may be interested.

You can check out her blog at cynthiainnes.blogspot.com

______________________________________________

A few minutes after my alarm rang this morning, the text came through.

"Jane Banda, Naotcha patient, is dead."

I first met Jane last October. I was filming for HOPE for AIDS, SIM Malawi's HIV and AIDS ministry, and that day's shooting took me to Naotcha, a mountainside village on the outskirts of Blantyre, where HOPE for AIDS runs a home-based care program.

Home-based care is exactly what it sounds like. Each week, small groups of volunteers gather together to visit a number of sick individuals in their community. Sometimes they bring household supplies - sugar, soap; sometimes they help around the home with cleaning or cooking. They are trained to offer advice that will encourage patients to live healthy lifestyles. They always pray with the patients, and always share the hope of Christ. They care for people who need it most.

I had inquired with one of the missionary nurses who works with the Naotcha home-based care volunteer team as to whether there might be a patient in their visitation rotation who would be willing to share about her life with AIDS and the role HOPE for AIDS home-based care was playing in it. Was there maybe someone who, like me, believed that if they could share their story, some attention might be brought to this epidemic that was missing before - that some heart might be moved to action, an action that would join with many others to bring an end to death by AIDS? Without hesitation, Jane Banda was asked. I wasn't in her home long before I understood why. Jane was genuine hope.

I sat in her living room with the volunteers, Mr. Banda and Jane's sister. Jane, dressed in her best, crawled into the room. Legs too weak to allow her to stand on her feet, she wobbled determined on all fours to her chair, and shaking, pulled herself up, slowly settling into her seat. She straightened her skirt. Adjusted her top. Looked straight at me. And offered me her biggest, most welcoming smile, reflecting up into her gentle brown eyes.

I visited Jane once more after that first day. She allowed me to film the home-based care visit. She spoke on camera about her life, her little boy who was off at school, her hopes for her son, her dreams for herself. The disease that she lived with. The sicknesses she was now plagued with because of her body's vulnerability. The hope in her life even this disease could not destroy. And each time, as her language was translated into mine, I grew to know a woman who was every bit like me - but stronger for fighting a battle she should not be in, yet refusing to be overcome.

The months passed, but I didn't visit Jane again. I thought of her often as I edited my footage, shaping the story of HOPE for AIDS, incorporating her gentle spirit into a film that would soon be taken around the world. I heard about her trips in and out of hospital. I sent a Christmas gift. She asked her home-based care volunteers about me. I sent my greetings.

And life went on. Until sometime last night, when Jane's life on earth ended.

Though I had thanked her, I'm not sure she could understand how her own willingness to be open about her life with AIDS would touch my life, and how her willingness to share her life on camera could touch the hearts of people on the other side of the world. And how perhaps sharing her fight could possibly negate a fight for someone coming after her.

This is the hope we share. That someday there will be no more AIDS waged in bodies that cannot fight back.

That someday, Jane, this fight you fought will no longer be repeated.
This Jane, is my prayer.


www.hopeforaids.org