The Sow
The Sow By Sr Mary Dillon |
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The sow arrived on the back of a bike, tightly bound with ropes. She was covered in dried black mud and shrieking with rage. The poor animal gave vent to her anger when she was released; it took weeks for the marks of the rope to fade.
"She looks very old to me," I said to the man who brought her, as I looked askance at the poor animal. "How many litters has she had? Are you sure she will be able to have more piglets?" "Of course, of course," he insisted. "She is a very good mother". But I had my doubts as I watched the poor old pig snuffling in the grass.
We put her in the sty with the other 6 pigs and after a few days she seemed to settle down. The two men who looked after the pigs fed her with the trunks of the banana plant and some feed we had bought. "She'll be all right," they nodded sagely, though I guessed they knew as little about pigs as I did. Still, the sow was a sign of hope, a venture into the unknown. I would have to learn as we went on.
It all began when I saw the great need there was for a place of shelter for people with AIDS. If we could just house them for some months while they struggled with the pain and effects of the virus, give them some of the retro-viral drugs, feed them nourishing food, then, maybe, they would have some chance. As it was we were uncovering such stories of misery each day as we did our rounds of the villages, enough to break one's heart. The Kachin nurses and myself do our best to help each individual we encounter, involving the family in the care and treatment of the patient. Some of course, have been disowned by their families, some have no family – all having died of AIDS, and others have given up hope. The great, unrelieved poverty of the people exacerbates their condition and without help they will certainly die.
So we do the basics, teaching something about nourishing food, hygiene and care. We are able to give some the antiretroviral medication; for others it is too late. With no one to care for them, they are left to die.
"O, to have a little house!" Thanks to the generosity of people, especially in Ireland and the UK, we were able to get such a house for these people. It can sleep eight and they have a little garden. Some women of the parish take turns cooking and in time we hope the people themselves will do this. The average length of stay will be about 8 months, though some will need more time.
This is where the pigs come in. My dream was – get some pigs, fatten them and sell them on. The money would help with the upkeep of the house and the sick. Two men, living with AIDS, would look after the pigs in exchange for a place to live and some food. The men are young, not strong but willing to help. They grow vegetables and so far the pigs seem to thrive. Even the old sow.
Things are still in the early stages but we have hope. Some of the parishioners help out. We need people to come and talk to the sick, to make them feel treasured, to rescue from that worst of all conditions – the feeling that no one on this earth wants or cares for you.
So now I am trying to brush up on pigs – how many litters can I expect? Should I get another sow? How can I get more food for them? When should I sell them on? What price should I ask, and so on.
But, now with the old sow finding her way, I am already hoping to get another house. Helping people to help themselves, to break out of the sense of hopelessness that can suck the life out of them. It takes time, and it takes unexpected means – including an old sow. But somehow, we know and believe the Lord is in it all. It is he who gives us the drive and energy to help these 'least of the brethern', he who moves the hearts of others, including yours, to reach out in love. And for this I give thanks.