Life is Hard

A friend used to say to me something she heard, “If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else’s, we’d grab ours back.” This is so true. When we think we’ve got it bad, we then hear of someone else’s struggles, and realize ours aren’t that bad after all.

Having heard, and even more so, being part of a lot of my spiritual children’s lives has me aware that I have nothing to complain about. Let me introduce you to one of my sons, Gamu. I met him in Zimbabwe when he was 12, and he is now 21. It was a divine encounter that continues to have God’s handprint over it to this day. Gamu was born HIV+. Both his parents passed away in his early years and his grandmother (Gogo) raised him. I featured his story in my book. Below are some excerpts so you get to know some of his story.

“On a few occasions, Gamu would come crying to my house after school, because some bullies had thrown rocks and teased him. I would do my best to console and encourage him, and he would often say, “Life is hard.” As I got to know his grandmother better, she confided that Gamu had failed several grades, due to long bouts of hospitalization. And when he returned to school, his teachers had pretty much given up on him, thinking he was going to die at any time. His grades were low, so every now and then, I would invite him over to my house to practise reading. No matter how often I was available, Gamu always remained upbeat and very grateful for whatever I did for him…

During my visit to Zimbabwe in 2011, he told me he wanted to become an usher at our very large church. He didn’t have the black suit required for the usher training, so we went shopping and I bought him one. It was during this time that Gamu’s HIV/AIDS doctor informed me his body was developing a resistance to the 1st dose of ARV’s, and he had put him on the latest and final regime. If his body rejected this ARV protocol there were no other options. Gamu had not been taking the drugs as prescribed, so I explained to him what the doctor said, and how important it was for him to take his pills regularly. I also reminded him he was, indeed, “a walking miracle,” and God still needed him to help people. As I left his house that day, he said, with tears in his eyes, what I hadn’t heard him say in years, “Life is hard.”

I’ve lost count how many times Gamu has nearly died due to his illness or accidents. I could go on and on with the challenges he’s had throughout his life, and how he has learned to overcome and press on. His attitude reminds me of the incredible migratory behaviours of the salmon fish. Their migration begins from where they were hatched, in the rivers and streams, and as small fish they head to the vast ocean. There they mature and then return to the rivers and streams. The very place they were born is where they breed and hatch their eggs. What is so amazing is how they swim upstream against strong currents, even leaping up waterfalls, in order to return to where they were spawned. Some species migrate thousands of kilometres to get from the ocean to their original birthplace. Once they have reached this spot, they breed, lay their eggs and die within a week, fertilizing the stream and creating a nutrient-rich environment for the salmon eggs to hatch. This persistence is a natural instinct God has placed in the salmon fish. I believe there is a part in all of us that has the potential to rise up and continue on a journey, even against seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

The most recent hardship for Gamu is that his beloved Gogo passed away on March 18^th at the age of 68 (in photo above with Gamu). She was the last of his immediate relatives. I have spoken to him on the phone and he very candidly said, “She finished her race.” He now faces a whole new set of challenges, but as long as Gamu has breath in his body, he will continue running his race, even when “life is hard.”