ETHIOPIA-SIZED

Wisdom of a teenage mum

Rob Parsons reflects on the day he met a young girl who captured the heart of parenthood in a way the West often fails to grasp

rob-parsons

Rob Parsons

Sometimes, God ambushes us. It happened to me in Zambia. It didn’t surprise me that I felt emotional; I find I cry more easily as a man than I ever did as a child. And it wasn’t exactly the poverty that shocked me, although the Tearfund colleague I was travelling with told me I had seen some of the poorest people on the face of the earth. My ambush came from a child who taught me the heart of what it means to be a parent.

Stacey had lost her father to AIDS eight years previously. He was in the military and when he died, some officials had called to collect things he’d had that belonged to the army. Apparently, his family didn’t matter. “But they didn’t want us – my mother and the six children,” Stacey commented.

Three years ago, Stacey’s mother died. Her relatives wanted to share the children around, but the kids wouldn’t hear of it. They said they must stay together. Stacey takes care of the two girls, and her sister, Dwalgu, has responsibility for the boys.

I went into a tiny room and saw a clothes horse with washed underwear on it – all very worn and spotlessly clean. On a nearby shelf was a jar with six toothbrushes in it. I could have seen that sight in many homes in the UK, but it was as if normality had to fight and kick in order to have a place among this poverty and constant threat of death. These two young women were trying to give their brothers and sisters more than survival – they were striving to give them a home.

I asked Stacey what was the most difficult thing about her situation. “Oh,” she said, “the girls want clothes and the boys want money.” I have heard that complaint from hundreds of parents but never before when clothes could mean two odd shoes for school and money was obtained by selling a little paraffin outside the house in an effort to make 10p a day.

As Stacey spoke with us, her younger sister Angela, aged 15, lay against her, with Stacey’s arm around her. They were both beautiful and yet so very vulnerable. I asked Stacey whether she ever spoilt the youngest boy, aged ten. Stacey replied with all the seriousness of one who had learned big lessons fast. “No,” she said, “he has to make his own way in life. He works hard at school. He is number one in his class.”

We talked about the loneliness of having to be a parent at such a young age without other adult help. She said, “I miss my mother and my father, but we can do it. We cannot live in the past – we have to look forward.”

Another member of the team asked her if she ever thought of marriage. “Yes,” Stacy said, “but whoever takes me must take my brothers and sisters. I know this will require a special man, but that is what I am praying for. I want a husband, not just a relationship.” I sat and listened to her as though I was at the feet of an old woman sharing her years of wisdom. The moment was too precious to miss. I said, “Stacey, in the United Kingdom, I run seminars for parents – thousands of people come to them. If you could pass on to them any piece of advice, what would it be?”

Stacey smiled and spoke without hesitation as if she had known the answer all her life: “You must be there for your children. If you are not there for them, any advice you give doesn’t work. There must be love – that way, you will feel what your children are feeling. If you give your children to a maid and leave them with her, she may care for them, but they miss out on love.”

And so I, who have spent much of my life talking and writing about parenting, who came to Africa to help children, was ambushed by a young girl who was a mother too young but who had somehow captured the heart of parenthood in a way that we in the West often fail to grasp.

Suddenly, I felt poor. “Stacey,” I told her, “I will tell parents about you for the rest of my life.” She smiled.

Extracted from FROM THE HEART – An honest look at life and faith by Rob Parsons published by Hodder and Stoughton ISBN 9781529358155. Used by permission.


This article first appeared in Direction Magazine. For further details, please click here.

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