During the week when Torkild was away something happened that shook us deeply.
Our German friends and neighbors, Friedhelm and Rosy fell ill (you probably remember that we wrote about Friedhelm many times. He built several churches with the help of Torkild in large parts of Tanzania). Rosy wrote to us to hear how we were doing because they had gotten a temperature and felt bad. Their maid was very ill with covid-19. Seemingly, she had passed it on to Friedhelm and Rosy.
I immediately suggested that they saw a doctor, but Rosy said Friedhelm was so sick that he could not sit in a car to get to the doctor. Finally, the doctor instead came to their house. Friedhelm was admitted to a missionary hospital approx. 150 km from Arusha with doctors from the West.
The day after Torkild’s return Rosy called and said that Friedhelm’s condition had worsened. Possibly he would be taken by plane to a hospital in Dar es Salaam or Nairobi. She had forgotten their passports so Torkild decided to take the passports to the hospital with our driver, Hilary to see if he could help.
In the meantime, the doctor had talked to Rosy and advised her not to move Friedhelm as his condition was extremely critical. The problem is that most Tanzanian hospitals do not have any respirators. And they needed one for Friedhelm.
At noon the following day after Torkild had arrived in the hospital, Friedhelm passed away, quietly and peacefully.
It was big a shock to his wife who had no relatives around her. She immediately began calling the children to inform them of their father’s passing.
The body had to be moved from the hospital before evening on the same day, as they have no cooling rooms. Hilary drove the body in Friedhelm’s car and Torkild took Rosy in our car. They drove to a hospital in Arusha where Friedhelm was put in a cooler.
Friedhelm had earlier expressed that he wanted to be buried in Tanzania. He received a truly royal funeral. He was buried at our FPCT church in Ngaramtoni, which is the local church that we work with.
He leaves behind his wife and four children. One of the sons came to be a part of the funeral.
The last part of the distance was a small, red dirt road that twisted among the banana plantations. At the end of the very steep road was the house where they lived. House may be an exaggeration because Johnson and his uncle share a room of 7-8 m2. The room is at the end of a hen house and there is just one building. There is no ceiling in the room next to the hen house. The smell was tough and we thought, “How can they sleep in that stench?”
Johnson has no parents. When he was little his mother died and his father died in November of last year. Johnson is an only child and his uncle is the only relative left.
Besides these challenges, Johnson has a handicap. There was an accident in his home when he was little. The housemaid had put a pot on the fireplace and left it to go outside. Johnson just learned to crawl. He moved himself to the fireplace and crabbed the handle of the pot with both hands. On his left hand his little fingers melted away at the extreme heat and his right hand is very damaged as well.
Although he lost his fingers Johnson is a competent writer and has a beautiful handwriting. He retained his thumb and most of the index finger on his right hand so he can hold a pencil.
Johnson seems to be a nice boy and is a very good student. But after his father died there is no one to pay his tuition. Without school fees he cannot continue classes as the uncle can barely make ends meet. That was very evident when we visited their home.
We have met with Johnson and his uncle again to hear about Johnson’s wishes for the future. In faith we have sent him on to Secondary school. He will be 18 years in July and has two more years before he graduates. If anyone reading this would like to help support his education there is a need for DKK 6,000 per year for this.
