Saving a Human Life | From abandonment to security
The call came near the end of the children’s musical – I noticed him (Piet) take the call just to my left. He listened, nodded and hung up, then returned to filming his precious children, clapping with pride as they danced and sang. When the musical was finished, Piet went to the stage to say some closing words. He thanked all the helpers who worked so hard to prepare the musical, encouraged the children, and prayed a closing prayer of thanks for God’s greatest gift of love, Jesus. Then he said, “I’ve just received a call from the police. They’ve found a baby for us to pick up. Then turning to address the children (he) said, …”My children, will this baby be welcome in our home this Christmas?” The room was filled with a resounding “Yes!”
Then he said, “I’ve just received a call from the police. They’ve found a baby for us to pick up.
Then Piet said, “But what about your Christmas presents? The more children we have, the less presents there will be for all to share!” Piet’s eyes twinkled as he teased the children. The children, of course, knew better. The more children we have, the more love there is to give. As Piet descended from the stage, Pita (a fellow Noah's Ark worker) looked over at me and gave me a nod. The meaning was clear. I would be accompanying them to Kampala to rescue a baby.
“The meaning was clear. I would be accompanying them to Kampala to rescue a baby.”
I jumped into the back of the ambulance and we roared out of the compound. As we bumped along the red dirt road leading to the main highway, Pita turned to me and said, “I hope you have nerves of steel. This will be quite unlike any other trip you’ve taken.” I confidently replied that I had, indeed, experienced the rigors of the Ugandan roads on our journey from Entebbe to Mukono. Stifling a laugh, Pita responded, “Ah yes, but that was at night, and you had our most calm driver. You will see.” Grinning, she turned her attention back to the road as we merged onto the highway and the siren began to blare.
“Nothing could have prepared me for what followed. The road was a rolling, confused, tangled mess of cars, trucks, people, and motorcycles with traffic at a standstill.”
The road was a rolling, confused, tangled mess of cars, trucks, people, and motorcycles with traffic at a standstill. Piet charged ahead without hesitation and chose a sliver of road in between the two opposing lanes. Ducking, lunging, zigging and zagging, we danced through the traffic with urgency and joyful determination. Piet was absolutely loving it.
I kept thinking to myself, “I can’t believe we are about to save a human life.”
We pulled into the Jinja Road Police Station in Kampala and quickly entered a small outbuilding that serves as the intake point for these kinds of situations. Along with me, one of the social workers from Noah’s Ark had accompanied Piet and Pita. Having done this so many times, they moved with confidence and a practiced ease. I kept thinking to myself, “I can’t believe we are about to save a human life.” Written on the wall in black marker were the words “Noah’s Ark Papa” and his phone number. It was becoming clear to me that the Ugandan public system had no means to handle a situation like this, and without Noah’s Ark these children would have very little hope.
“It was becoming clear to me that the Ugandan public system had no means to handle a situation like this, and without Noah’s Ark these children would have very little hope."
The room was dim and there were a few chairs scattered about as well as a small couch, on which the baby lay face down. Immediately Piet examined the baby while Pita was briefed on the situation. It had been found the previous evening and brought to the police.
“The room was dim and there were a few chairs scattered about as well as a small couch, on which the baby lay face down.”
It was a boy of about twelve to eighteen months old, and appeared to have been abused quite badly. Wearing only a diaper and a dirty shirt, he lay still and only whimpered slightly as Piet examined the scars on his back. The workers thought his leg must be injured as they said he was unable to stand, so Piet focused on that area and almost immediately declared the leg to be broken or possibly dislocated.
“This is a bad one,” he told me grimly and I tried to comprehend the darkness and desperation that would drive somebody to harm a child in this way and then discard it. I didn’t feel anger but sadness for the whole situation.
“It was a boy of about twelve to eighteen months old, and appeared to have been abused quite badly. Wearing only a diaper and a dirty shirt, he lay still and only whimpered slightly as Piet examined the scars on his back.”
Pita collected the child gently into her arms and we moved from the small building into the main police station, a yellow two-story structure that has the feel of colonial times, and has likely not been maintained or updated since that era. Here there were public service posters on the walls that painted a surreal picture of the challenges faced by law enforcement. Warnings against human torture and child sacrifice were scattered among posters advocating HIV prevention. It was shocking to see these kinds of realities so matter of factly displayed.
Stay tuned for Part 2...
Written by Darren Lloyd | President of Stratiform
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