By Eve Batchelder, Australia
Mahya* is a young girl with a beautiful smile. The first few times I met her at the Centre of Hope, I did not discover this. When I tried to talk with her she remained distant.
I had come here to teach; but although I saw Mahya in class, I ended up really connecting with her in an unexpected way. It began when our group of volunteers at the Centre noticed a large open sore on one of the children’s feet.
The next day, we brought some basic first aid supplies and cleaned and bandaged the sore. We weren’t prepared for the crowd of children that gathered around as we performed this simple treatment. Children pressed in on us, showing their own sores, eager for us to treat them too.
Through this we noticed that Mahya, like many children, had sores on her arms and legs. However she also had several sores on her face and patches under her hair. Mahya wears a headscarf because she is Muslim, but after treating the sores and shampooing her hair, we were reluctant to replace the worn, dirty scarf without washing it. So we took a trip down the street to buy her a new one.
As we walked down the narrow dusty street, several children emerged – from where, we were not quite sure – and went with us to the shop. We found out that they were Mahya’s siblings. Mahya has four sisters and one brother, who live with their father since their mother died. Like many families here, they are waiting to receive refugee status from the UN, and struggling to make ends meet.
I found myself wondering, why was this not me?
This could have been my family. I could have been the one living in poverty and uncertainty, unable to maintain the standards of living necessary to prevent things like skin infections.
Mahya loved choosing her new, bright pink headscarf, and since then has been wearing it to class every day. And I have had a gift from this encounter too. To be honest, I’m not all that comfortable with open sores and infections. It’s not what I’m ‘good’ at, and I had a lot to learn from the other volunteers about how to do this sort of thing well. But I realised that it was not even the relief of physical ailments that was most important. Mahya and the other children thrived on receiving individual attention, feeling loved and special and cared for.
I was able to be a small part of that for Mahya, and I will always be grateful for the privilege. Now when I smile at Mahya, she smiles back.
There is so much need here, it can feel overwhelming at times. But it also means that there are so many opportunities to show love and to make a difference, if you are willing to step outside of a set role and come with an open heart.
*Name changed for privacy.