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Sparrow Ministries—
A South African Hospice

 

Neither words nor statistics can adequately capture the human tragedy of children—lost, ignored, abandoned, sick or grieving for deceased parents. Sometimes they are stigmatized by society through their association with HIV/AIDS, and always—plunged into economic crises and insecurity by their parent(s) death. Children have to look after children and struggle without services or an extended support system in impoverished communities burdened by violence.

The Sparrow Ministries Hospice is an interdenominational Ministry of Help caring for “destitute terminally ill” adults and children with HIV/AIDS. They provide in-patient hospice accommodation, medical care, and psychological, social and spiritual support to 15 adults and 30 children. Their out-patient facility offers care to 45 adults and six children, including hospital visits, medication, food pantry, clothing, counseling and help with applications for disability grants. The Sparrow Hospice provides home-based care reaching up to 10 families a week. In addition, they provide home-based care courses, as well as counseling courses, in order to mobilize communities with effective HIV/AIDS knowledge.

The Hospice was founded in the home of the Rev. Corine McClintock in 1992. When I visited in October 2001, they were still in Rev. McClintock’s home, a modest 4-bedroom house just outside of Johannesburg, South Africa.

The house has been converted into a hospice with a large room on the rear serving as a nursery for infants and small children. Since opening they have lost over 600 patients to AIDS, and were losing nearly three patients a week.

The reality of AIDS is staring them in the face. From the hopeless, helpless individuals who stand outside their doors in the morning, to the children with their brave smiles, longing to be held by anyone—the hospice seems surrounded by the biggest tragedy in human existence. Sometimes they get patients from Animal Welfare, who when they go out looking for injured or neglected animals stumble over a human being. Sometimes patients migrate to mine dumps to be left alone or to die, as they do not see their way out of despair and illness. At the time of my visit, there was a tiny two-month old baby boy, born with AIDS and abandoned in a trash dump whom the hospice had just taken in for care. Regardless of this reality, they have refused to be stunned into passivity by this silent killer. Their motto is and has always been, “Get up and live.”

Sparrow Ministries is supported entirely through charitable contributions. A doctor from a local provincial hospital volunteers his services, a female graduate student helps Rev. McClintock run the home and raise donations, and three South African women work in shifts to help with care, cooking and cleaning. There is no anti-HIV therapy and only a few medicines available to help fight opportunistic infections.

Lynette (a volunteer) talking about her friend Juliet, a 10-year-old girl living with AIDS, said that, “every night she falls asleep on my chest. Just to get her more comfortable I move her around on her side of the bed. When I finally doze off I feel her little hand in mine. Two days ago she weighed 15 kg (33 pounds), today it is 14 kg. Her skin is dry and white. I pretend not to see and not to know the signs. A few hours later our midnight run begins. A few nights ago we got up 16 times, forced by a never ending stream of unrelenting diarrhea. Last week she was admitted for two days and sent home. Another day, another hospital. This time they did not even keep her, just sent her home with the terminally ill tag. In the early hours of the morning I cry silently, hating the world, detesting the rift between rich and poor. If only I could get money for her. Yet, there are hundreds of children like her.”

With donations, they give patients the opportunity to live, care for them medically, psychologically, socially, more importantly spiritually—to help them find a way out of despair and discover the meaning of this illness in their lives. The women, men and children I met were sick, but they were not worried about where their next meal would come from or where they would sleep that night. (see Orphan Resources)

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