Gladys with her 3 youngest grandchildren, who live with her and attended our VBS in April
Gladys, who is in our Wednesday group lost her husband yesterday in the early hours of the morning to liver cancer. This is the first death of any spouse in any of our groups since we began. We had asked for prayers for him and the family in recent blog posts. JM2Z had provided payments for medical tests, transportation, and medications/treatment in the last couple months. It has only been that long since he was diagnosed.
Last Thursday, I (Yolanda) visited Gladys and her husband at their home. I showed up with the customary “gift” in hand, always a food item. I brought along some cookies, as I knew she would be receiving many guests, some kapenta (dried whole fish, like sardines) since I knew her husband enjoyed it, some seasoning packets (always a treat), and a jar of freshly ground moringa leaves from our backyard (a natural immune booster and multivitamin).
As I entered their home, it became abundantly clear that his time here on earth was fast approaching its end. He had lost so much weight and looked like a skeleton covered in skin. He was only partially conscious for most of the visit. He slept on and off for most of the time. He sat in the living room enveloped in a large robe with his feet propped up on a pillow on a side table. He was also draped in a big fluffy blanket staring at the TV in the background, playing gospel music (the only free channels available in Zimbabwe). Gladys was teary-eyed as she pointed to her husband. “We’ve had to carry him from the bedroom to the living room these last few days. He can no longer walk. He has no strength anymore. Last night he told me he was tired…” she trailed off. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to help him. What do I do?” She looks at me with large questioning eyes, pleading with me to have the answers she seeks. “You’re doing everything you can. You are such a good wife. You are taking care of him, loving him, and being present. There’s nothing else left for you to do. You are doing such a great job of looking after him. I am proud of you my friend. I’m so sorry you are going though this. I’m so sorry cancer exists.” She interjects, “why?” As she shakes her head. It’s not so much a question as much as an exclamation. Her faith is strong, but her body is weak. She is a woman in mourning even though her husband still holds on to life before her. “We live in a sinful, fallen world. This is not the way God intended it to be. There was never supposed to be any suffering, or pain, or illness… or even death. But when sin entered this world that all changed. That is why I am so excited for eternity. Knowing Jesus, following Jesus, and loving Jesus means eternity will be free of all this pain and suffering and illness. Death will be no more. How beautiful that will be?” “Yes. Yes, it will be so wonderful,” she agrees as she looks at her husband gasping with every breath he takes. “I have been so blessed. We have been married for 48 years. He was a good husband (she’s already using the past tense). He has lived for 72 years. That is very long for a Zimbabwean.” I nod in agreement. “It is ok to want more. It is ok to want 48 more years. It is ok to think that 72 is not old enough. Remember, God can handle your pain … and even your anger. We serve a big God, a God who desires to carry us in our times of weakness and suffering. You are not alone my friend,” as if that realization frees her of the burden the tears begin to flow freely down her cheeks again once more. I move across the room to embrace her and hold her as tears turn into audible moans of pain and anguish.
After some more time, visitors arrive. I offer to pray, which I do, laying hands on her husband. I greet the guests and her and her husband. It would be the last time I see him this side of eternity.
The next day she meets me in town, so I can purchase necessary pain medications. Three days later she would call me to let me know he has passed away.
Last Thursday, I (Yolanda) visited Gladys and her husband at their home. I showed up with the customary “gift” in hand, always a food item. I brought along some cookies, as I knew she would be receiving many guests, some kapenta (dried whole fish, like sardines) since I knew her husband enjoyed it, some seasoning packets (always a treat), and a jar of freshly ground moringa leaves from our backyard (a natural immune booster and multivitamin).
As I entered their home, it became abundantly clear that his time here on earth was fast approaching its end. He had lost so much weight and looked like a skeleton covered in skin. He was only partially conscious for most of the visit. He slept on and off for most of the time. He sat in the living room enveloped in a large robe with his feet propped up on a pillow on a side table. He was also draped in a big fluffy blanket staring at the TV in the background, playing gospel music (the only free channels available in Zimbabwe). Gladys was teary-eyed as she pointed to her husband. “We’ve had to carry him from the bedroom to the living room these last few days. He can no longer walk. He has no strength anymore. Last night he told me he was tired…” she trailed off. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to help him. What do I do?” She looks at me with large questioning eyes, pleading with me to have the answers she seeks. “You’re doing everything you can. You are such a good wife. You are taking care of him, loving him, and being present. There’s nothing else left for you to do. You are doing such a great job of looking after him. I am proud of you my friend. I’m so sorry you are going though this. I’m so sorry cancer exists.” She interjects, “why?” As she shakes her head. It’s not so much a question as much as an exclamation. Her faith is strong, but her body is weak. She is a woman in mourning even though her husband still holds on to life before her. “We live in a sinful, fallen world. This is not the way God intended it to be. There was never supposed to be any suffering, or pain, or illness… or even death. But when sin entered this world that all changed. That is why I am so excited for eternity. Knowing Jesus, following Jesus, and loving Jesus means eternity will be free of all this pain and suffering and illness. Death will be no more. How beautiful that will be?” “Yes. Yes, it will be so wonderful,” she agrees as she looks at her husband gasping with every breath he takes. “I have been so blessed. We have been married for 48 years. He was a good husband (she’s already using the past tense). He has lived for 72 years. That is very long for a Zimbabwean.” I nod in agreement. “It is ok to want more. It is ok to want 48 more years. It is ok to think that 72 is not old enough. Remember, God can handle your pain … and even your anger. We serve a big God, a God who desires to carry us in our times of weakness and suffering. You are not alone my friend,” as if that realization frees her of the burden the tears begin to flow freely down her cheeks again once more. I move across the room to embrace her and hold her as tears turn into audible moans of pain and anguish.
After some more time, visitors arrive. I offer to pray, which I do, laying hands on her husband. I greet the guests and her and her husband. It would be the last time I see him this side of eternity.
The next day she meets me in town, so I can purchase necessary pain medications. Three days later she would call me to let me know he has passed away.
 We covered the CT scan and tests, as well as their transportation to Harare and back |  The results, revealing a mass and cancer |
Monday morning, after receiving the call, Andrew and I drive to her home to join her along with many others in mourning. We enter the yard where several chairs are set up outside. All the men present are seated on them. Inside the house, all the furniture has been removed from the living room. The floor is covered in blankets and rugs and women are seated all along the perimeter of the room, with their legs stretched out in front of them. Andrew and I remove our shoes and enter, we bow our heads in greeting and I clasp my hands as I circle the room in greeting. We both move forward to Gladys sitting in the corner, wrapped in the fluffy blanket her husband was wrapped in just a few days prior when I visited. We both go to our knees and embrace her. She begins to cry and wail. I tell Andrew that he’ll need to go outside and find a seat with the men, as I find an available spot to sit. Gladys gestures for me to come sit next to her. The room is mostly in silence, a few whispers here and there. All eyes are on me, a young white woman. Several of the woman are a little shocked to see me. People quickly make room for me and try to get me a chair to sit on. I shake my head and gesture “no thanks” and immediately sit down and make myself comfortable like everyone else (although I’d much rather sit cross legged). I can feel the women staring. Gladys begins to explain how her evening went, when she realized he passed away, what happened next and where the body is now. Then she begins to cry again. I rub her shoulder and tell her, “Nematambudziko,” which means, “we share in your sorrows/we feel your pain” - it’s a loose translation as the direct translation is “with problems.” This is the word that is said to anyone who has lost a loved one. Thankfully, after awhile, the novelty of the young white woman has worn off (except for the occasional person sneaking a photo of me on their phones).
I choose to merely be an observer of all the proceedings. I sit back, watch, rub an arm or back, offer a tissue (I made sure to bring a few packs along), nod my head when appropriate and bow my head when others do.
More and more women start filing into the small room. Each woman who enters, goes from person to person and offers her hand in greeting. Once they get closer to Gladys they fall to their knees and crawl across the room until they reach Gladys. Then they lower themselves and crouch in anguish and begin to wail. Gladys joins them in mourning. Of course they wipe their eyes and nose with their hand then immediately offer their hand in greeting to me - I shook too many wet hands to count and there was no appropriate way to get around this.
After some time, Gladys became almost uncontrollable. She had just gotten done telling me her head hurt and she was exhausted. It seemed the emotional strain was finally getting to her and she was at her breaking point. She began to repeat a phrase - I could not understand the meaning and never felt it appropriate to ask someone - then she wailed. Some of the ladies told her to quiet down - this may seem rude but they were attempting to calm her. Several encouraged her to lie down and sleep. I moved from the corner and made room where an extra blanket and pillow were placed, and she lay down. She was shaking. I lay my hands on her and quietly began to pray for peace, for comfort, and for solace in her time of need. The entire room quieted down even more, as if knowing instinctually what I was doing. I could feel Gladys’ body stop moving and within minutes she was fast asleep. I sat criss-cross legged in front of her, feeling almost protective of her rest. Each time someone came to give their condolences she got all worked up and all the overwhelming emotions came to the forefront. It was obvious she was in desperate need of rest. Unfortunately, not long after, an older gentleman came into the room bringing a chair with him and sat down facing the group of women. It quickly became apparent that he was a leader within her church. The ladies began to shake her awake. I so wished she could just sleep and get some rest, but I knew it was not my place to interfere. Groggily she sat up and faced the man. He began speaking. He spoke about how Gladys’ husband’s journey has began. He spoke about heaven and peace and no suffering. I understood bits here and there but he spoke fast and passionately which made it harder to keep up. Then he would say a phrase and the whole group would respond. This happened a few times. Then he called for everyone to bow their heads in prayer. He prayed with fervor. Then several other women prayed too and then one woman started singing quietly. Slowly the women joined in. Soon hymns were being sung passionately. After awhile the ngoma (traditional drums) were brought in along with hosho (traditional rattles made from gourds) to add to the musicality of mourning.
At one point, there was a pause, decisions about who would play the instruments and who would lead the songs. I saw this as our time to leave. This mourning process will lead well into the night as more and more people arrive. At the back of the house several women were stoking a fire and preparing food for the many people who would be present this evening. We said our goodbyes, offered help if needed and ensured Gladys’ visiting daughter knew how to contact us. I signaled to Andrew that we could leave and he bid farewell to all the men - he had experienced a much different environment, with: a couple drunk men, many many prying questions, strange interactions, men literally touching open wounds of another man who was quite ill with some disease, sitting in a smoke-filled environment, and even laughter about the most unusual issues and situations. It was hard to believe that we had attended the same setting and for the same reason.
As we left, we were well aware of the many Tuesday and Wednesday ladies who had come to support and love on Gladys during her time of need. Many had been with her since the early hours of the morning, long before any of her own church-mates and family had arrived. As we drove away, we passed one the Wednesday ladies, Mai Choto, whose leg is in a cast. She had walked over an hour on crutches to come and pay her respects. She was clearly exhausted and we were so encouraged by her love and sacrifice.
I choose to merely be an observer of all the proceedings. I sit back, watch, rub an arm or back, offer a tissue (I made sure to bring a few packs along), nod my head when appropriate and bow my head when others do.
More and more women start filing into the small room. Each woman who enters, goes from person to person and offers her hand in greeting. Once they get closer to Gladys they fall to their knees and crawl across the room until they reach Gladys. Then they lower themselves and crouch in anguish and begin to wail. Gladys joins them in mourning. Of course they wipe their eyes and nose with their hand then immediately offer their hand in greeting to me - I shook too many wet hands to count and there was no appropriate way to get around this.
After some time, Gladys became almost uncontrollable. She had just gotten done telling me her head hurt and she was exhausted. It seemed the emotional strain was finally getting to her and she was at her breaking point. She began to repeat a phrase - I could not understand the meaning and never felt it appropriate to ask someone - then she wailed. Some of the ladies told her to quiet down - this may seem rude but they were attempting to calm her. Several encouraged her to lie down and sleep. I moved from the corner and made room where an extra blanket and pillow were placed, and she lay down. She was shaking. I lay my hands on her and quietly began to pray for peace, for comfort, and for solace in her time of need. The entire room quieted down even more, as if knowing instinctually what I was doing. I could feel Gladys’ body stop moving and within minutes she was fast asleep. I sat criss-cross legged in front of her, feeling almost protective of her rest. Each time someone came to give their condolences she got all worked up and all the overwhelming emotions came to the forefront. It was obvious she was in desperate need of rest. Unfortunately, not long after, an older gentleman came into the room bringing a chair with him and sat down facing the group of women. It quickly became apparent that he was a leader within her church. The ladies began to shake her awake. I so wished she could just sleep and get some rest, but I knew it was not my place to interfere. Groggily she sat up and faced the man. He began speaking. He spoke about how Gladys’ husband’s journey has began. He spoke about heaven and peace and no suffering. I understood bits here and there but he spoke fast and passionately which made it harder to keep up. Then he would say a phrase and the whole group would respond. This happened a few times. Then he called for everyone to bow their heads in prayer. He prayed with fervor. Then several other women prayed too and then one woman started singing quietly. Slowly the women joined in. Soon hymns were being sung passionately. After awhile the ngoma (traditional drums) were brought in along with hosho (traditional rattles made from gourds) to add to the musicality of mourning.
At one point, there was a pause, decisions about who would play the instruments and who would lead the songs. I saw this as our time to leave. This mourning process will lead well into the night as more and more people arrive. At the back of the house several women were stoking a fire and preparing food for the many people who would be present this evening. We said our goodbyes, offered help if needed and ensured Gladys’ visiting daughter knew how to contact us. I signaled to Andrew that we could leave and he bid farewell to all the men - he had experienced a much different environment, with: a couple drunk men, many many prying questions, strange interactions, men literally touching open wounds of another man who was quite ill with some disease, sitting in a smoke-filled environment, and even laughter about the most unusual issues and situations. It was hard to believe that we had attended the same setting and for the same reason.
As we left, we were well aware of the many Tuesday and Wednesday ladies who had come to support and love on Gladys during her time of need. Many had been with her since the early hours of the morning, long before any of her own church-mates and family had arrived. As we drove away, we passed one the Wednesday ladies, Mai Choto, whose leg is in a cast. She had walked over an hour on crutches to come and pay her respects. She was clearly exhausted and we were so encouraged by her love and sacrifice.
These pictures are of the road to Gladys' house.
Today, we made arrangements for additional food and bottled water for all the many visitors at Gladys’ home. Her daughter had called and asked for water as so many were thirsty, but water is scarce in the high density area. Andrew immediately jumped in the car to purchase the necessary supplies. He met her daughter at a local high school to hire their bus (the same bus we hire for the children’s program during school vacation) to transport all the mourners to the burial site and back. He passed on all the bought goods too. We did not want to drop any goods off at the house, since we didn’t want or need for anyone to see us providing anything. Having said that, several other ladies came up to me the previous day, and thanked me for all we had done for Gladys and her family. Many also thanked us for what we do for the community. They didn’t explain what they meant, but we can only assume they mean the food hampers (that so many benefit from) and the children's program that so many children attend. Many women and even men thanked us and we were rather shocked by that reaction. We always respond with, “To God be the glory,” anytime thanks is given to us. We want to make it clear that it’s by God’s provision, especially since we can’t always share that it is through YOUR generous giving that we are able to help and assist with the many needs around us. So thank you! Know that you are appreciated. Know that your generosity does not go unnoticed. Know that YOU are making a difference in the lives of so many here in Zimbabwe, Africa. Thank you for allowing us the opportunity to come alongside Gladys during her time of mourning and physical need.
Tonight, many people will continue to gather at Gladys’ home. The coffin with the body will be brought to the home and people will wail, mourn, worship, and comfort one another until early hours of the morning. We have chosen not to attend tonight. There will be many people in attendance. We will not be missed, but by our attendance we may cause more of a stir. We are constantly balancing cultural norms and expectations, along with racial and economic divides. We are constantly aware that our presence, although appreciated, can also be a hindrance in who receives the necessary attention. Sometimes we completely miss the mark. Almost always, we question when to attend and when to stay away, but we know that in all circumstances, God’s grace is sufficient for us.
Tomorrow, we will attend both the service and the burial. There will also be a meal served at Gladys’ home afterward, which is customary. We have not decided if we will attend the meal, but we know attending most everything will be appreciated by Gladys.
All groups have been cancelled this week, so that the ladies can attend any and all days of mourning, in support of their friend Gladys. I know without a shadow of a doubt, their hearts are hurting for their sister in Christ - I witnessed that firsthand when the ladies embraced her with so much love, enveloping her, and crying tears of shared pain.
First and foremost, please pray for Gladys. Pray for peace and comfort. Pray for rest and provision. Pray for her grandchildren who live in her home and are mourning the only father figure they’ve known in their lives. Pray for his children, especially those living in other countries, unable to attend. Pray also for us, pray for knowledge in knowing how to handle all situations and when to know what to do and what to attend and when to be a support. Pray that we can love so abundantly and compassionately that Gladys will not only know, but feel the love of Jesus during her time of great need.
Another blog, concerning all other happenings from the past month will be sent out sometime soon too, but we felt it necessary to share about Gladys and her grieving loss first.
Tonight, many people will continue to gather at Gladys’ home. The coffin with the body will be brought to the home and people will wail, mourn, worship, and comfort one another until early hours of the morning. We have chosen not to attend tonight. There will be many people in attendance. We will not be missed, but by our attendance we may cause more of a stir. We are constantly balancing cultural norms and expectations, along with racial and economic divides. We are constantly aware that our presence, although appreciated, can also be a hindrance in who receives the necessary attention. Sometimes we completely miss the mark. Almost always, we question when to attend and when to stay away, but we know that in all circumstances, God’s grace is sufficient for us.
Tomorrow, we will attend both the service and the burial. There will also be a meal served at Gladys’ home afterward, which is customary. We have not decided if we will attend the meal, but we know attending most everything will be appreciated by Gladys.
All groups have been cancelled this week, so that the ladies can attend any and all days of mourning, in support of their friend Gladys. I know without a shadow of a doubt, their hearts are hurting for their sister in Christ - I witnessed that firsthand when the ladies embraced her with so much love, enveloping her, and crying tears of shared pain.
First and foremost, please pray for Gladys. Pray for peace and comfort. Pray for rest and provision. Pray for her grandchildren who live in her home and are mourning the only father figure they’ve known in their lives. Pray for his children, especially those living in other countries, unable to attend. Pray also for us, pray for knowledge in knowing how to handle all situations and when to know what to do and what to attend and when to be a support. Pray that we can love so abundantly and compassionately that Gladys will not only know, but feel the love of Jesus during her time of great need.
Another blog, concerning all other happenings from the past month will be sent out sometime soon too, but we felt it necessary to share about Gladys and her grieving loss first.
300 bottles of water and 3 bags of mealie meal for Gladys' family and friends at her home
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