Tinashe

"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat." -Mother Teresa

Today, the kids at Peniel Centre are heavy on my heart. I'd like you to get to know them, one child at a time. I will start with the girl who changed my life.

Tinashe Maseko, age 8

Tinashe is beautiful, rambunctious, spirited, and passionate. Her mom and dad both died of AIDS when she was very young. Her brother Victor also passed away of AIDS. This left Tinashe and her sister Rejoice, who is now 13 years old. The girls were taken in by their maternal grandmother, but two years later Rejoice became sick with AIDS. Their grandmother was afraid that Rejoice would die in her home, so she brought them to their paternal uncle and his wife, who were also ill. This meant that the girls were essentially forgotten and Rejoice was not brought to a hospital because they were convinced she would die and didn't want to incur the extra costs of bringing a corpse back to the village to be buried. Fountain of Hope found out about these girls at just the right time and was able to get Rejoice to a hospital and Tinashe to Peniel Centre. Rejoice soon became healthy and is now also living at Peniel, and they are both able to go to school.

In our three weeks at Peniel, Tinashe become "my" kid. If you've ever been on a mission trip involving children, you know how that goes. As you can see in the picture, she was constantly jumping into my arms and climbing all over me. If another kid hit her or hurt her feelings, I was the one to comfort her. She would sit in my lap whenever she could. I was her tutor, but most of our tutoring time was spent with her writing, "Tinashe, Rachel, Tinashe, Rachel, Tinashe, Rachel..." over and over again. At times I would become frustrated with her. She was clingy, needy, and not too friendly to my back with all of her leaping. But then I would think of her past. She has been pushed aside her entire life. Deserted by the people she loved, whether by death or convenient choice. Looked down upon because she is young, one of the youngest at Peniel Centre. She reverts to toddler behavior to get attention. I would also think of my Father. He wants us to depend on Him, to cry to Him, to fall asleep in his lap. I only hope that I was a small picture of Jesus to her.

Tinashe is also a tough little girl. One day, she came home from school with blood all over her head and school uniform. The medical gurus in training on my team helped her get it all cleaned up, and then I took her to the bathroom to attempt to clean her and her uniform. I am pretty sure she had a concussion, because she just sat on the little bench by the sink and stared while I washed her uniform. I would ask her questions (questions that I asked her on a daily basis, in English that she understood), and either got no response or a timid "yes," which was often not the appropriate answer. My heart broke for that little girl. She has been so conditioned to believe that her emotions don't matter, and that was incredibly apparent through that afternoon. 

Okay. This next part I have only shared with a couple people, so appreciate this little piece of my heart. Here we go. Deep breath.

It was our last night with the kids, and they threw this big party for us. We "grilled" and drank pop (a luxury) and danced and we shared our gratitude. Tinashe knew that it was our last night, though, and just sat in my lap, completely wrapped around me like she would never let go. She was crying. I tried to stay upbeat, but those of you who know me well know that I am always, without fail, one of those "cry-when-you-see-anyone-else-cry" people. So I was crying. I tried to get some of the older girls explain to Tinashe that I would see her in the morning and that I love her very much. Eventually it was decided that she should be pried from my lap so that both of us could attempt to enjoy the party. But my heart would break a little more every time I would see her siting in a corner with tears in her eyes, staring at me. I was supposed to suck it up and be strong for her, but I am the weakest person I know.


In the morning, we got up early to see the kids off to school and say our goodbyes. Tinashe is one of the last to leave for school, so luckily I was able to get all the other goodbyes out of the way before falling apart. We were told to do our best not to cry, that crying would just make it harder on us and the kids. So when Tinashe came up to me for hugs before walking to school, I told her to hug everyone else first, to save me for last. She went around and hugged everyone else, and then left without saying goodbye to me. I ran down the road after her, calling her name, but she didn't turn around. I caught up to her, and she looked so angry. So, so angry and hurt that I was leaving. I picked her up, hoping that she would do her typical octopus cling, but she was as stiff as a board and didn't hug me back. I told her I love her, both in English and Ndebele...no response. I kissed her on the cheek. Nothing. I had to just give her one last squeeze and let her walk to school.


Pray for Tinashe. She needs to know that she is loved. Desired. Remembered. Important. She needs help with school - she is in third grade and barely knows the alphabet. She needs counseling. She needs consistency. I pray that I will be able to help with a few of those things when I go back, but it's not up to me.