I am a day when the high priest enters the Most Holy Place once a year to make atonement. What day am I?

Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

The Dude Abides

Home
Progressive Christian

Last updated on: October 26, 2007 at 9:34 am by Cathleen Falsani

2007-10-26T09:34:00-07:00 Cathleen Falsani

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

GODSTUFF

VASCO’S STORY: RUNNING TO STAND STILL

BLANTYRE, Malawi — They warned me about this.

They said to be careful, to not get too close, to not let “it” get to me, to not become overwhelmed or “too emotional.”

After about three weeks of behaving myself and keeping my head and heart in check while traveling through east Africa, I did exactly what they said not to do.

I fell in love. Hopelessly, helplessly, achingly in love.

His name is Vasco. He’s 10. It was love at first sight on my part, though I can’t speak for the Malawian child who has broken my heart with his.

As he sat on my lap and leaned his narrow back into my chest, I could feel his heart thumping hard — much too hard for a boy who was sitting still and hadn’t been running around. Each beat of Vasco’s heart shook his slight body so intensely that I could see a bulge on the left side of his narrow chest moving under the shirt he wore, the one with the word “chisomo” on it.

At 10, he’s the size of an average American 6-year-old and weighs about half of what the suitcase I’ve been lugging around Africa does.

I met Vasco when his caseworker, Mac, from a philanthropy in Blantyre that works with the city’s many street children, took me to the outskirts of town to meet the little boy with the broken heart.

While we don’t yet know precisely what Vasco’s medical diagnosis is — basic health care for the very poor here is difficult at best, and treatment for specialized cases (such as pediatric cardiology) is even more so — Mac and Vasco’s aunt, Esme, said the little guy has an enlarged heart with a hole in it. Last week, a doctor in Blantyre said that, while more tests are being done, he thinks Vasco needs lifesaving surgery — and soon, according to Mac.

Vasco pants when he walks and sweats in the shade. He doesn’t complain and tries to keep up. He loves soccer but can only watch. He smiles a shy smile, but I got the feeling it was more for my benefit than anything else. Orphans like Vasco get used to having their picture taken and smiling for strangers in a strange land who might lift them out of poverty.

A few years ago, Vasco’s mother and father died of AIDS, and like so many children in this part of the world, he ended up living on the streets of Blantyre. That’s where someone found him and took him to the philanthropy that works with street children, sheltering and feeding them until they are able to place them with extended family.

After months of searching, when Mac found Vasco’s aunt and uncle, the boy went to live with them. They take good care of him with their limited resources.

When I visited the family, Vasco’s aunt brought out a manila envelope from her mud and wattle hut and handed it to me. Inside was a wrinkled X-ray of Vasco’s chest showing an enormous dark shadow where his oversize heart is. One of Vasco’s cousins showed me a plastic baggie with his daily medication, chalky white pills smaller than aspirin.

I only had a few days in Malawi and tried to do what I could to make sure Vasco saw a doctor immediately. But things move slowly in the developing world. And then there’s the problem of apathy and corruption.

When my husband and I told the director of the street children’s philanthropy about our grave concerns for Vasco, he dismissed them with an emotionless “there are many children with many needs, and we can only do so much.”

Mind you, this was after the director had taken us to a church service (at the fast-growing congregation where he’s an elder) where, after four hours, the preacher hadn’t preached yet, but the collection plate had been passed three times. When an elder announced that the budget for an upcoming celebration of the pastor’s 50th birthday was $40,000 and asked people to give more, I felt sick to my stomach, got up and left.

There hadn’t been a word about the poor, the sick, or the orphans standing on the corner down the block. Just the gospel of prosperity, a bless-me club for Christians consumed with the search for personal holiness.

As I leapt out of the director’s fancy pickup truck back at our motel a half hour later, I basically begged him to make sure Vasco saw a doctor as soon as possible. He said, “I’ll try to see what can be done.”

I wanted to slug him and then beat him with my Bible.

We stopped to see Vasco on our way to the airport and heard him yell, “I’m coming!” (in Chichewa, Malawi’s national language) from the hut where he sleeps.

“Don’t run!” Mac, my husband and I shouted in unison.

Vasco climbed into my lap, his rabbit heart thunk-thunking as he spoke softly, playing with my hands as I hugged his knobby knees.

I told him I loved him and kissed his head. I wanted to throw him in my carry-on bag and run. (He would have fit.) But I couldn’t do that. I had to leave him behind.

I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I can’t fix his heart myself, but I can tell his story.

By the way, in Chichewa, “chisomo,” the word on the T-shirt Vasco was wearing when we met, means “grace.”

VASCO'S HEART

Previous Post

October 26, 2007

Next Post

October 27, 2007 About Vasco . . .

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category A little happy ARCHIVED COLUMNS BECOMING FAMILY BelieberNess BREAKING NEWS! Disquiet Time DJ JEFF'S SPINTASMS falsani FILM from OCRegister From Sojo.net God Nods GODSTUFF I Take Requests incubatespirit LURKING IN THE NARTHEX On My Nightstand ONEMOMS Polling the Room PONTIFEXCELLENT Thru My Eyes TWO CENTS Uncategorized Upcoming Events VASCO VASCO'S HEART

Select a Month January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 July 2014 May 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 April 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 March 2011 February 2011 January 2011 December 2010 November 2010 October 2010 September 2010 August 2010 July 2010 June 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 February 2010 January 2010 December 2009 November 2009 October 2009 September 2009 August 2009 July 2009 June 2009 May 2009 April 2009 March 2009 February 2009 January 2009 December 2008 November 2008 October 2008 September 2008 August 2008 July 2008 June 2008 May 2008 April 2008 March 2008 February 2008 January 2008 December 2007 November 2007 October 2007 September 2007 August 2007 July 2007 June 2007 May 2007 April 2007 March 2007 February 2007 January 2007 December 2006 November 2006 October 2006 September 2006 August 2006 July 2006 June 2006 May 2006 April 2006 March 2006 February 2006 January 2006 December 2005 November 2005 October 2005 April 2005 March 2005 February 2005 January 2005 December 2004 November 2004 October 2004 September 2004 August 2004 July 2004 June 2004 May 2004 April 2004 March 2004 February 2004 January 2004 December 2003 October 2003 March 2003 December 2002 October 2002 January 2001

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

I am a day when the high priest enters the Most Holy Place once a year to make atonement. What day am I?

Select your answer to see how you score.

The Day of Atonement The Sabbath Passover The Day of Trumpets