for the voiceless
My morning started as I headed north on Route National 1 toward Archaie. We had a full load, Fanfan driving, me in the passenger seat and four Haitian friends in the back. Mama Noel (refer to “Marantha needs your Attention” to read about her family) is estimated to be 40 weeks pregnant. She is a very high-risk pregnancy due to the fact that she has had a stroke and this will be her tenth child. Being that this is the first pregnancy I have been so involved with, I’m wishing God had given me an easier case. But, he didn’t and I’m acting like a pregnant lady myself, anxiously awaiting this baby.
As we cruised down the highway this morning, I did my daily social networking. Catching up on Facebook and Twitter, seeing what the outside world is up to. As I scrolled down the newsfeed, I could feel mama curiously watching over my shoulder. She has probably never even heard the words “facebook” or “twitter” and for that matter she has probably never typed on a keyboard or owned a simple telephone.
I pondered on this idea, wondering what type of profile she would create. It would be Desir Rosemene Noel, age 42, lives in Simonette Haiti. She wouldn’t list her education, since she has never received one. And her relationship status would be Complicated with “Sperm Donor”. All ten of children have the same father, but I have never once met him nor know his name.
She would have photo albums full of her precious children. Her most recent album could be full of pictures showing off her new house that I’m currently building for her. And she could write an exciting status to introduce her newborn to the world once he or she is born.
As I write this blog, I think she could even have a blog of her own. Writing her own life story, she would be able to write many stories full of heartache, perseverance and poverty. She could write about the days she went without food and had to watch her own children fall asleep hungry. She could write about the days when she sold fish in the local market and lived out of a tin shack with a dirt floor. I’m sure her most personal stories, feelings and thoughts could write a beautiful novel.
Personally, I think her voice is way more important than mine. Her life is proof of a strong and faithful woman, who knows how to survive. We could point our fingers at her saying this is her fault for being pregnant with her tenth child or shake our heads calling her a foolish woman. But, I don’t see that in her for a moment.
She never received an education, because she never had the opportunity. She didn’t have an option for contraception, nor does she probably have a voice as Mr. Sperm Donor comes and goes as he pleases, never taking responsibility for what he leaves behind. I think it is time for her to have a voice and a place in this world.
I love that I can give her a voice, can be a part of her life, and most of all I love that she calls me her friend. God has placed her and her children in my life for a reason, and I’m just trying to be faithful as He shows me the people who need Him.
As for God, he sure is a faithful one. He is a God who gives power to the powerless. Strength to the weak. Sight to the blind. Hope to the hopeless and a voice to the voiceless. So, here’s to writing Desir’s story and being her voice.
Until the baby comes,
for I know I will be bragging and boasting all about him or her,
Love from Haiti,