Marcelino’s Home Visit

Marcelino sat at the breakfast table in his best clothes, eating an early breakfast, so that we could leave the house by 8:00 this morning. At the sight of his new outfit he knew that he was on his way somewhere special and was going to have the chance to leave the baby house. This always seems to make the kids happy.

We loaded on to a chappa and headed away from the city, a place that I hadn’t been, we then switched to another bus that took us even farther from the city of Maputo. It was quite a bus trip with Marcelino on my lap and squished into the chappa. He seems to get very quiet and subdued whenever he is taken out.

We walked a short distance through a small village to find Marcelino’s uncle. As he greeted us, I could smell urine on his clothes, and large amounts of alcohol on his breath. He accompanied us, and actually led the way to the house where the father of Marcelino lives.

We climbed on yet another chappa and traveled to another village that was quite a distance from where we started. As we climbed off of the bus, Luis quickly pointed out that we were across the street from Iris Ministries (the orphanage that he spent much of his childhood living in). This is where our walk of great proportions began. We walked and walk and walked. We easily walked six miles through deep sand and carried Marcelino most of that distance. The area was beautiful farmland, but the sand made the walk hard work.

Standing in the middle of stereotypical African savannah with just a few small grass huts surrounding us, I realized that Marcelino’s uncle had no idea where his brother lived. We wandered and almost everyone that crossed our path if they knew Marcelino’s father, but no one recognized his name or knew the family. I was pretty sure that we were lost, but I had one of my favorite children in the world resting in my arms, so we decided to play. I put him down on the sandy path and we chased each other around, while he shouted at all of us. Marcelino’s uncle and Luis continued to ask people and we finally decided to just head down this path with no direction. I really didn’t have much say in the matter because of the language barrier, so I just continued to follow.

After about 15 more minutes of walking, we asked a man wearing a stocking hat in the African heat if he knew the family. I was astonished when his face showed that he was happy to be able to help and led us to the family’s house.

As we approached the gate, I noticed that their grass hut and plot of land was surrounded with bushes with very large thorns on them. I put Marcelino on the ground, straightened his shirt and pants, and he grabbed my hand as we walked through the gate. His family sat on grass mats in the sun. His father’s new wife was cutting vegetables and looked up at us with a smile as we approached where she was sitting.

A little boy sitting next to her with a pot of old cooked rice sitting between his legs looked up and spoke in Shangon. It was obvious that he was excited from the tone of his voice, but I had to ask Luis what the little boy was saying as he looked and spoke to Marcelino. Luis told me that he had said, “My brother, my brother, I have a brother!” Marcelino walked over and sat down next to the boy, who we later found out is named Michael, and sat down and grabbed his hand to hold. It was precious to see these two brothers reunite.

Chickens roamed around our feet as some of us stood and watched the family marvel at how Marcelino had grown and how healthy he looked. We were told that Marcelino's father was working at the market, wandering through the narrow booths selling small items (we went to the market after leaving the house, but did not have success at finding the father).

As we said our goodbyes and headed back on our long walk to the main road, I couldn’t help but think about how much of a difference the baby house has made in Marcelino’s life. Walking with him in my arms, I continued to think about what his life would look like if he lived out with this family in their very humble grass hut. Without running water, with no guarantee of a next meal, without a daily bath or clothes to wear. I am so glad that I am able to partner with a group of people that is making such a major difference in the lives of children. I see the eight former orphans at the baby house as some of the luckiest children in this entire country of Mozambique. They will have a promising future because of what is being done to fight for their social justice.