About 20 years ago, Baba William married a young, beautiful woman and together they had 6 children. In 2003, immediately after the birth of their 6th child, with no warning, the wife deserted the home, leaving Baba William with 2 infants and 4 other young children to care for. At the time, he was very ill, so much that he could barely sit up, let alone stand. As I walked through a crowded forest of banana trees, coffee plants, and maize, I found Baba Williams home-a mud and stick hut no bigger than a bedroom-and called out his name. He came out cheerfully, happy to have visitors, but his appearence was heartbreaking. Frail and thin, his body looked like it had been the victim of torture for many years. His finger and toe nails were rotted, his clothing torn, and his skin stretched and laying against his boney figure. He called out his children, the youngest only 6 years old, who looked just as pathetic as he. Their clothes looked like they had not been washed in months, their bodies showed the sign of being malnourished, but their smiles were beautiful. It was clear Baba William was so thankful to have friends to sit and talk with him. He told us of his awful story and of how his children are now all he has because all his extended family has died. His plot of land barely extends his mud hut and the food he grows is only used for personal consumption. He has no source of income, because he is too sick and frail to work, and must rely on neighbors and the church for survival. I don't know if there is hope for him-as terrible as it is to say. Baba Williams story is one that is not possible for me to understand but unfortunately is all too familiar for Tanzania.
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