Last October when I first started going to Algoa Frail Care Center, I met a little girl named Nobesutu. They call her Sutu for short. She is 8 years old and extremely hyper. I’m not sure what her diagnosis is. The left side of her body is weaker than her right side, causing her to walk with a limp and have trouble using her left arm and hand. But she still runs around and plays with the best of them. She is a bundle of energy. The nurses call her the naughty one, because the way she expresses herself, the way she gets attention, is through aggression. She scared the heck out of me the first time I met her, because she shouts words in Xhosa that I don’t understand, runs around, slaps, pinches, scratches, and pulls my hair. And she’s sneaky. Often we will be sitting or kneeling on the ground engrossed with another patient, and she’ll come around from behind, grab a chunk of your hair and pull with a strength you’d expect from a grown man! And we learned to have quick reflexes, because if we lean down to talk to her face to face, it’s probable she’ll rear back and slap us in the face. I was not fond of that child. However, being around kids for a lot of my life has taught me a few things: how to say “no” firmly, redirection/distraction is babysitter’s best friend, and if all else fails, just remember: I am 23 and she is 8.
One day when my ministry partners were all busy happily playing with other kids, I took it upon myself to occupy Sutu, in order to save them from a painful hair-pulling ambush or a surprise slap in the face. I caught hold of her hands, and with all the energy I could muster I started jumping up and down with her, coaxing her to follow suit by saying “jump, jump, jump!”. Then I would suddenly stop and kneel down and say “shhh…” and then start jumping again. She thought this was incredibly amusing. And I was pleased that it worked as a distraction and an outlet for her energy. The next time I saw her, she remembered our jumping game and wanted to play some more. I felt victorious. The 23 year old, college grad beats the 8 year old runt.
As time went on my feelings toward this little fireball began to gradually move from dislike, to tolerance, to amusement and enjoyment. My reflexes quickened as I learned when to expect a slap, scratch or hair-pull. I think we both started learning to like each other. I was surprised to find that I could calm her down by simply pulling her into my lap and wrapping my arms around her. She would lean her head on my shoulder and stick her thumb in her mouth like a little angel. This discovery made me realize that this little girl just needs love, like anyone else in the world. (I’m sure parents and/or people that work with kids all the time would have known this instantly!). But it took me holding her and showing her love to realize that love is what she needs. She doesn’t have parents to show it to her. She doesn’t get the kind of attention most kids get. She craves love with everything in her, and she expresses that desire through aggression.
After this profound discovery I made sure to show her attention every visit to Algoa. Sometimes it’s playing and running around, sometimes it’s simply following her around making sure she doesn’t hurt anyone. We sing songs together and she pulls my hair while I play the guitar. She gets jealous when I play with other kids. She throws tantrums when she doesn’t get her way. One day she sat in my lap and fell asleep.
Maybe I’m getting used to her, or maybe she’s actually changing, but the aggression seems to be decreasing. I’m writing about Sutu because today at Algoa, I rocked her in my lap while she sucked her thumb. We giggled as I spoke simple Xhosa words and tickled her. And as I looked in her eyes today I saw trust, contentment, and love. I love this little girl, and my heart just broke into pieces for her today.
Being in Africa has taught me so much about love. How important it is to love my teammates, roommates, people who are different from me, my friends and family on the other side of the world, people who make me uncomfortable and people who can’t or won’t love me back. And how our only hope for remotely being able to attempt the kinds of love I just mentioned is through the overflow of receiving the perfect, intimate, unconditional love from God through Jesus Christ.
I think a big reason my heart broke for Sutu today was because I see myself in her. I’m a stubborn, confused, sometimes mean little girl with a whole lot to learn about love.
Our house in Port Elizabeth has a beautiful view of the ocean in the distance, and often just after it rains, we’ll get to see full rainbows stretching across the sky over the water. We saw one just this afternoon. It’s stunningly beautiful, and a perfect reminder of the faithful, steadfast love of the Father for his stubborn, wretched, broken children.
