Lunch with Abilio

Today I had a memorable lunch. A couple months ago I did a home-care visit to a really sick little boy with HIV, which I blogged about already. I thought he was 6 or 7 at first glance, but after a closer look realized he had to be much older because his skull was really developed. He is 12, it turns out, and he and his grandmother both became infected with HIV when they went to the hospital for blood transfusions a long time ago. His mom abandoned him as a baby and he lives in a poor family.

Just a tragic life and he just sits there listlessly obviously hurting all the time. When we went back to visit Abilio today, he was much worse, laying under all these blankets, coughing, even more emaciated. I went with my co-worker and an HIV+ activist too, and we were teaching his grandmother how to cook nutritious food for him so we stayed about 2 hours grinding up peanuts and green leaves. The poverty level was astounding, and they only spoke dialect. But anyway, when the food was ready, they insisted that I eat with the little boy, even though I'm sure the food could have been better off with one of the other family members who don't get enough to eat. So Abilio, literally a living skeleton of a boy, and I ate porridge side by side. He was so sick we had to lift him up to eat, and then my co-worker spoon-fed him. They cared for me like they cared for him, but my, we could not have been dealt more different cards. The best way I can process and reconcile my lunch is to believe that this life is not the end because their physical suffering was so great. But in spite of all that, the entire family was laughing and smiling as we cooked (minus Abilio). They asked me to come back next week, so hopefully I'll make it a regular thing because although I can't do much, at least I can go be with them, and to them, that's something. It was powerful to witness this circle of care in the midst of this broken family, everyone caring for one another out of necessity.