Adventist Mission

Zenabou's Smile

I pause briefly to massage my jaw muscles before shuffling into the final room of the female ward. I’ve visited every patient bed in both the male and private wards, and now I’m almost done with the ladies. A smile has been plastered to my face for three straight hours, and I’m feeling it. A good hardy frown would be nice right about now… My eyes stray to the far corner of the room. Yep, she is still there – smiling as sweetly as ever.

Throughout my year serving as chaplain, I have interacted with countless women who have been abandoned by their families. But no one has been, or ever will be like Zenabou. Every day, rain or shine, she smiles sweetly and tells me she feels wonderful. Zenabou’s body resembles a breathing skeleton, due to her severe case of Tuberculosis. Yet, she continues to be cheery. She does not have anyone to sit and talk to her, or to go and get her a drink, or to make sure that she has clean clothes to wear. Yet, she continues to be positive. How does she do it?

I walk across the room and stand beside her bed. “How are you today, Zenabou?” “Very well, thank you.” She beams up at me. “Are you feeling better today?” “Oh,yes, much better!” Her little arms are still toothpicks and her hands are as bony as ever. “Would you like me to read you a Bible verse?” “Yes please!” She chimes eagerly. I flip to some encouraging texts from Isaiah and read them aloud to her. She nods approvingly, whispering fervent amens.

As I close my Bible, Zenabou clears her throat politely. “Please, may I have the radio today?” “Of course! I’ll bring it down later.” The Ethiopian Bible Society has provided our hospital with an audio New Testament in Oromiffa. Every day that it is not being utilized by someone else, I bring the radio to Zenabou and she listens with rapt attention to the Gospels, Paul’s letters, and other scriptural books.

I turn to go, but she catches my eye, somewhat cautiously. She glances meaningfully at the little jar on her bedside table. I follow her gaze. The little bouquet of flowers I brought her last week has wilted, and the jar no longer contains water. Hastily I snatch it up, “Would you like some more flowers?” Her eyes light up and she nods emphatically. I promise to bring her some more after lunch.

As I ascend the stairs to my office, I reflect on my interactions with other abandoned patients. Ragatu became severely depressed and cried for several hours each night. Chaltu never so much as gave a second glance at the flowers I brought her. Alemnesh huddled in a little heap, staring at the wall. But Zenabou is different… She has not given up her will to live. She continues to find joy in flowers and Bible stories. Every day she shakily lowers herself into a wheel chair and goes outside to sit in the sunshine and watch the birds. She flashes a beaming smile to everyone who passes by her. Zenabou is a living example of the fact that joy is a choice. I wonder, do the corners of her mouth ever get tired?

More from Paul and Petra
Meet the Howes
Not a Moment Too Soon
Ethiopian Scent Mosaic
Radiya and the Radio
Ant Attack