Heart Attack

Yesterday we drove to St. Louis, which was a little more than 3 hours each way, including the bio breaks under the baobab trees and stops to buy mangoes and melons.

All the guidebooks remark on St. Louis’s architecture, which is distinctly French colonial. It reminded me of New Orleans. (You can check my FaceBook page for photos.) The city has a large water front, because it is built both along the mainland and on an island in the bay. It’s pretty in a disheveled but promising sort of way that’s characteristic of developing countries.

But we weren’t in St. Louis for sightseeing. Nathalie was checking on the welfare and health of two young women—Coumba and Socadou--whom Nathalie met seven years ago when she was volunteering at a dispensary in St. Louis. Now 10, Coumba has epilepsy and is developmentally disabled. She is not able to see, speak or walk. She hears…and in fact, her face erupts with joy when she hears music or a familiar voice, like Nathalie’s. Before she began taking medication, Kumba was suffering from 20 or more seizures every day. For the past year, she has been seizure free.

In all respects, Coumba is dependent on Penta, her mom, and the family of women who surround her. Although financial resources are limited, they seem to have love in ample supply because Coumba’s sister Fagouda, who is eight, and her brother Papa Moussa, who is two-and-a-half, are happy, healthy, energetic, smart kids. Much to my delight…and dismay… Fagouda’s French skills far surpass mine. She happily demonstrated how well she could read, even correcting me when I tried to read along with her.

We also met Socadou, who is now 15 and a beautiful, thriving young woman. Seven years ago, she was a scrawny kid who was slowly dying of a congential heart defect. Although her first surgery—at birth—was successful, she needed another. And Nathalie--with her unfailing determination to help--secured the support of a French medical group called Terre des Hommes, who flew Socadou to Paris for that critical second surgery. The photo tells the story…Socadou is healthy, and she was overjoyed to see Nathalie.

This visit to St. Louis was not one from the guidebooks. We spent our time in a small, single-room home with Coumba, her mother and grandmother and aunts and siblings. We strolled to the market to buy a fan, so that the hot, rainy days ahead are bearable. We feasted on a fish, rice and vegetable dish that thrilled my taste buds but clearly taxed the family’s food budget. And then, Paul and Nathalie negotiated with a local builder to repair Penta’s home before the rainy season arrives in July, and the inevitable leaks become intolerable.

The drive home was long, but it gave me time to think about the day. In St. Louis, I had seen despair and happiness in the same home. I had experienced poverty and generosity in a family with very little but an instinctual willingness to share all they had. I witnessed Nathalie and Paul as a team. Their humanitarianism, which is committed to social change, is profound and humbling.

Nathalie does not just solve problems. She sees the people with the problems. She helps them…she stays with them…she continues to support them. Yes, Nathalie is paying for Coumba’s medication and ongoing medical care, providing money for her diapers and clothes, rebuilding the house, counseling and support Penta about Coumba’s care.

But it’s Nathalie’s strength and commitment that gives them hope. I saw Coumba’s face light up when she heard Nathalie’s voice. I saw Penta’s dancing eyes and radiant smile when she opened the car door and reached out to embrace Nathalie.

This is the change that Ghandi spoke and wrote about. This is being the change that we want in the world.