Special Needs Club

"So, what are you going to do for us?"--Mother of a special needs child in Zambia

When baby Joseph was born, the midwife noticed a small pimple on his arm and mentioned it to his parents.  Little did they know, his dad tells me, that this was only the beginning.

Joseph is four years old and covered in mysterious blisters.  When his sister took off his pants to show me his legs, Joseph clenched his dad's hands and cried out in pain.  Indeed, not one part of his body is lesion or pain free.

As I took these photos, I wanted desperately to excuse myself and sob.   I couldn't leave though.  I, the white "Mzungu", was their guest of honor and supposed to help them.  I think they expected me to snap my fingers so money and healing would rain from the heavens.  

There were two boys in wheelchairs.  One mute boy. A few children with cerebral palsy.  

But it was little Joseph who broke my heart.  

Charity, the director of the organization, told me her dream of opening a school for these children.  She has a few ideas to generate income.  She is passionate about making sure these kids are valued and given a decent shot at life.

For now this rag-tag group of 20 gather together to sing and dance in the dirt.

I'm not sure what the next step is supposed to be.  I'm not even sure I want to be involved.  

Then again, I wouldn't have signed up to parent a child with Down syndrome, but God dropped Oliver into my life anyway.  And I fell in love with the little rascal.  Although he's on my list right now, because he drained about a gallon of water from the dispenser all over the kitchen floor. 

King Oliver and his BFF Elizabeth