Idrussi’s Home Visit

When he left the small village of Camp 2000, he was weak, sick, and almost ready to breathe his last breath. His grandmother was sure that she had sent him away to be a part of a child trafficking scheme. She was positive that she would never see her Grandchild Idrussi again.

As we walked through the reasonably new village of Camp 2000, which had been established as a refugee camp for victims of the Mozambique floods of 2000, I wasn’t sure that we were going to be able to find Idrussi’s family. I wasn’t even sure that his grandmother still lived in the village or if she was even still alive. We had traveled by chappa and an old bus for 4 ½ hours and were now walking to a church in the village, where we were told the pastor’s wife could help us track down the family.

As we sat down in the shade that was provided on the side of the simple cement church building, the young lady that had presented herself as the wife of the pastor told us that she would go and find her friend that had brought Idrussi to her over a year ago. As we sat and waited Idrussi shoveled chocolate biscuits into his mouth, and managed to get some of the chocolate on the pants of my traveling companion Luis.

With sounds of children playing under a nearby tree in our ears, the lady returned with a lady named Mary that said she knew where the family lived, we were in luck, but there was a catch. Mary said that it was at least two-hour walk from the church. As I looked up at the sun, which was now high in the sky, I thought through our next step and looked at my watch. We had left the baby house at just after 7:00am, and it was now just after 1:00pm. Two hours from now it would be 3:00pm, plus the two-hour walk back to catch a 4 ½ hour bus ride. I wasn’t sure how late all of the buses ran, and I knew that one of my teammates had plane to catch in the morning. I was also not sure how much I wanted to entertain the idea of spending the night out in this village with Idrussi, who only had a short supply of diapers.

We all looked at each other for a few minutes and finally decided that we needed to continue on in our journey. We walked through deep sand right behind our recently acquired guide Mary. After only walking for a little over an hour, she realized that we had already arrived in the area of the family’s house. This was good news for us because the sun starts to set at 4:30 in the afternoon and traveling in the dark isn’t a good idea in Mozambique.

After asking a local lady from the village about the family’s whereabouts, we walked toward a small grass hut with a man and woman sitting on a grass mat in the shade of a nearby tree. Mary spoke in the native language of Shangon and as the lady rose from the grass mat she started to weep. With tears rolling down her cheeks she approached us, and this is when I realized that this was Idrussi’s Grandmother.

When she handed Idrussi over to Mary over a year ago, she didn’t expect to ever see the little boy again. Now he had returned to her with a Buddha-like belly and a huge smile on his face. He was happy, healthy, and now taking medicine that was helping his body to fight his battle with AIDS. I handed Idrussi over to her, and she hugged and held him tightly against her chest. She repeated, “Obrigato,” which is “Thank you” in Portuguese. Soon all of the small houses in the village had emptied and the people were standing in a circle around Idrussi, as if to witness a triumphant kings return to his village.

I stood by and just tried to take in this entire spectacle. Soon Idrussi’s Aunt was there at the house, along with an Uncle, and other family members. As they enjoyed holding and playing with him, I soon realized that the children of the village had never seen a camera. I started taking pictures of the kids around me, and then showing them their own faces on my cameras screen. The children loved it, but the excitement soon spread to a few of the mothers that were nearby and they also requested that I take their picture, with babies in their arms, so that they could see.
Idrussi and Family
As the sun started to set in sky, I realized that our visit needed to come to an end. The village said their goodbyes to each of us with a kiss on both of our checks, and we were on our way home. The adventure does not, however, stop on our arrival at a nearby paved road.

Standing at the edge of the pothole-filled blacktop, I realized that we were standing at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. A few small chappas came by within the next 45 minutes, but they were all full without room for the four of my traveling companions. I thought to myself of how I had always wanted to hitchhike, and how it would make a good story to say that I hitchhiked in Africa, and without hesitation, or asking the people that were traveling with me, I walk out onto the pavement and put my thumb up. I had a ride in less than a minute and Amy was screaming, “What are you doing?”

With a casual reply I said, “Getting us a ride, come on. I always wanted to hitchhike, and what better place, but in Africa!”

I climbed in the back of the old pickup with Luis and Idrussi, and let Amy and Pedro ride in the cab with our new friend Felix, the driver. He drove very fast and took us into a nearby town where it was much easier for us to get a chappa home.

This home visit, although longer and more exhausting than any of the others was the most rewarding. I feel so fortunate to be able to be in Africa and be a part of reuniting families, giving them hope, and showing that their baby’s future is no longer hanging in the balance, but now shows great promise. This was my last home visit that I will be able to facilitate while I am here for this summer visit, but I also now know that I will return to Mozambique during my future summers and continue to work alongside of these people that are making such a difference in the lives of the family of this country that has won over my heart.