Mlondi

Last week I met a little boy named Mlondi. He, however, has not met me. I am very sure he is dying, and since it's been a few days now since I've been able to visit him, he may already be so. His parents both already are. Mlondi was in so much pain he was unaware of his surroundings. His eyes are swollen shut and look as if they will never open again. His face is coming off. His tiny, 9 year old body is covered with terrible sores. The sores on his face have come off, leaving his face looking as if his skin melted off. Most of his face is missing. While I was there the first time, he laborously lifted his finger and tried to scratch what he probably didn't know was really just a giant hole that used to be the left side of his face, causing more of his skin to come off and hang from the tip of his tiny finger. Due to the fact his parents are dead and he is covered in sores, I am almost certain he is HIV positive, and this is an AIDS related case. His father had multiple wives and 15 kids total, so he left 15 kids fatherless, and his wives and kids have a very high chance of being HIV positive. Mlondi's Gogo (grandmother) Elina has been sitting by his bedside for a month now. Mlondi is the oldest of the 15 kids, so Elina probably has numerous other bedsides to sit beside after Mlondi is gone. One of Mlondi's brothers is already beginning to get sick. Elina is tired and sad and lonely. I have tried to spend time just sitting with her, but the visiting hours in the hospital are limited, and I have Cherish obligations. When I am there, it is hard. The first time, I had a translator with me. When I go alone, I do not. She doesn't speak English, which means all she can understand from me is basically a greeting, a thank you, and an I love you. Last time I went to see her, all I could really do was point to myself, make praying hands, and then point to her and her grandson.

What is the correct response to this? I have absolutely no idea.

"Oh, what am I to think
of what the writing of a thousand lifetimes
could not explain
if all the forest trees were pens
and all the oceans - ink?"
-mewithoutYou