Can You Hear Me?

A few weeks back I was sitting outside the clinic, it was the afternoon, and few patients were left inside. A boy (who I later found out was 19) walked up to me with a sign that read he was deaf and was begging to pay his school fees. I didn't have my purse on me at the time and so I tried to asking him in sign if he could wait while I went to get my purse. Who knew I’d be using what little sign language I know in Nigeria? He looked confused, but got the message and a few minutes later I came back with a meager 100 Naira. I told him I was sorry it wasn't much, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact you would have thought I gave him 1,000 Naira from the look on his face. From there we communicated a little bit more through sign and then mostly through writing back and forth. His father died when he was young and his mother still lived in the village. He’s in a special education school in a state not too far from Jos. Somehow the conversation turned to him signing "pain" and pointing to both kidneys. From there I learned he'd been having blood in his urine and pain in his sides. I found out he was HIV positive and hadn't seen a doctor about most recent problem. I told him he needed to come to the clinic the next morning and see a doctor. He must have sat there with me for an hour or two, even after we had stopped talking. As if, he was completely content just sitting there with me, reading and re-reading our written conversation. Some how it made me sad; I wanted to talk more with him. Why didn’t I pay more attention in those sign classes at work? After he left I couldn't stop thinking about him. What sort of life was ahead of him in a country that makes little provisions for the disabled? He begs for his tuition. With a beggar on every street corner I have to wonder how much he actually pulls in and is it enough for him to continue is education? And then what? How will he earn a living? Will he be forced to a life on the streets as so many disabled are?
The following day I had to go to Abuja to change my plane ticket, so I wasn’t around when he came back. But apparently he showed up the next morning with a sign that read “Where is Mikki?” My friend Yemi spotted him and corrected the “M” to a “N” and told him I had traveled. I tried explaining that the day before, but it must not have registered. Anyways, I’m not sure what happened to him. At some point he left the clinic and I haven’t seen him since. I pray provisions will be made for him, wherever he is, whatever he does. It’s strange how your soul can connect with a perfect stranger like that. But there was something about him, something that drew me in and touched me. Such a small exchange, and yet I am forever changed. I see now more than ever the ministry of presence.