“Where there is love, there is life.” ~Mother Teresa
Dearest Beloved Friends,
If you want to know what love looks like, it is this. This is my dear friend, Hadija Mmbucwa, holding her son, David, the day I met her 18 years ago. In so many ways Hadija reminds me of the
young Jewish girl, Anne Frank, who lived in Amsterdam during World War II. Anne is best known for her diary, which she kept while her family was hiding from the Nazis in a secret annex behind a bookcase in her father’s office building. Despite the constant fear and danger, they faced, Anne’s diary is full of hope, humor, and a deep appreciation for the beauty of life. Sadly, eventually she and her family were arrested by the Gestapo and she died in a concentration camp in 1945. Hadija reminds me of her because Anne once wrote, “How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” I want to tell you Hadija’s story but first I want to tell you how Hadija is improving the world in her beloved Congo. Hadija is our chapter leader for Sharing Down Syndrome Africa.
Hadija has been helping families in Africa begin to see their children with Down syndrome for the gift they are. Sadly, many people in various parts of Africa have the mistaken understanding that children born with Down syndrome are somehow “cursed.” Sadly, often those children are neglected or cast aside.
For past five years, Hadija has returned to her beloved homeland, the Dominican Republic of Congo to fulfill her dream of reaching out to every child who has Down syndrome to help them and their parents. So far, she has found 80 children who range in age from seventeen to little babies.
Hadija’s vision is educate their mothers and fathers to the possibilities of what their child can accomplish. Each year Hadija prepares a meal for these families, consisting of rice and meat. She brings them clothing as well. Hadija helps these mothers understand what they can do to improve their children’s lives. After the end of their meal, she gives each family a bag filled with food.
Hadija knows how hard it is for African children who have Down syndrome. These children are often neglected for lack of understanding. Hadija is teaching these parents that their children can accomplish many things if only given the chance. She shows them pictures and videos of her son, David, who today as I write this to you (August 28, 2024) turns 18 years old.
I know if those parents could meet David in person, they would see the remarkable young man, he has become. Next year, David, will graduate from high school this year and after that, he will get a job.
I know words alone cannot truly describe who a person is, but I promise, if you could know David Mmbucwa, you would love him and you would understand why Hadija is so proud of him.
David is charming, loving, and kind. He is intelligent and playful. A few weeks ago, when I was visiting, he showed me the cutest video of him dancing on “Tik Tok.” I said, “David, I do not even know how to get “Tik Tok” on my phone,” So he reached over, grabbed my phone, and said, “Here, Gina, I’ll show you.” And he did.
I know that parents in Africa deal with the same challenges we deal with. We love our children but there are times that can feel hard.
Our children can be stubborn and it can be frustrating not being sure how to deal 5 with those challenges. I have always teased that my son David gets his stubbornness from me. Parents in Africa have the same struggles with their children. The only difference is, we have services in place like schools, therapies, doctors, who can help us. Parents in Africa do not have that gift.
Hadija shares in an open and honest way. She knows there are challenging times but she also knows the joy that our children bring to us. She brings these parents so much, but to me the greatest thing she brings to them is HOPE.
I met Hadija 18 years ago when a social worker called from St. Joseph’s Hospital referring her family to me. It is not uncommon for hospitals to refer new families to me, as they have been doing so for over 33 years. What was unusual was what she told me about this family. She said this was their tenth child. As the mother of seven children myself, I know the effort it takes to raise a large family.
She told me this family were refugees from the Dominican Republic of Congo. She said they only spoke Swahili and French. She told me she thought the father, Jacques, could speak some English but she was not sure how much he understood. Most of all she felt bad that she did not have someone to translate for me.
I told her in my faith, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, often our members serve a mission as young people. I told her I would try to find someone who could speak Swahili. That was harder than I thought. So, I then began to search for members who could speak French. I found many, including my dear daughter-in-law, Annie. But she, like the others, though they wanted to help, knew they could not translate medical terminology.
Annie suggested I call a friend in her ward (congregation) named Michael Switzer., telling me he was fluent in French; but he was also a doctor. She felt certain he would help me. When I called to ask him, he was wonderful and said he would be glad to help me. Plus, I learned he worked at County Hospital, which was very close to St. Joseph’s so he could come the following day on his break to meet this family. I was so grateful.
Before we hung up from our call, I said, “Michael, isn’t it amazing that God called you on a mission to France and you learned to speak French, and now he has brought you to me, and you can help me serve this family.” His answer surprised me, “No, Gina, the more amazing thing is I did not serve my mission in France. I served in the Ivory Coast!” I was stunned! I knew, as a physician, Michael would know the correct way to explain medical things, but because he had served as a mission among the people, Michael would have a deeper compassion for this family and understand their cultural beliefs as well.
I thought all was well until the next day when I called the hospital and learned they had just discharged the family. They did give me Jacques’ cell number and I tried a few times to reach him with no luck.
One day, I was surprised when he answered the phone and though his accent was thick, I realized he could speak English and if I listened carefully, I could understand him. I loved it when I realized he could understand me as well. So planned a date to meet. Unfortunately, on that day, I woke up feeling sick, so I had to call to cancel. Jacques understood, but he told me when I did call back, to “make sure” I did not talk to Hadija because she did not speak English.
The day I did call to reschedule was on the afternoon of Friday, December 1, 2006. I had so much to do that day. The next day we were hosting our annual Sharing Down Syndrome Christmas party, and I was supposed to pick up all the donated toys. But that night was my husband’s Dental office Christmas dinner party at our home where 17 would be attending and knew I needed to help him get our home ready for that.
When I dialed the phone, I was surprised that it was Hadija who answered. Jacques was right, it was hard to understand her. I was trying to tell her I would call back because I only wanted to find a good time I could come to meet them. To my surprise she said, “Come right now!” I tried to tell her no, but she kept insisting.
I knew I would be cutting it close, but something in my heart told me I needed to go. So, I grabbed their New Parent Gift bag and began the one-hour drive to their home.
When I arrived, I climbed the stairs to the second floor and knocked on their apartment door. I was greeted by Jacques and Hadija holding baby David. Hiding behind them were four young darling children who were curious to see who this stranger was who had come to visit.
They invited me into their small living room and as they sat on the couch, I knelt on the floor before them, as I often do on my visits. As I was handing them each item from my gift package, I realized the books were written in English and would be of no use to this family.
As Jacques and I talked, Hadija said nothing but I could see a look of sadness in eyes. I understood that look, because just 22 years before, I was the one with that look in my eyes. I remembered how a young nurse had come into my room and found me crying. She asked me what I had named my baby and when I told her she smiled and said, “Did you know the name ‘David’ means beloved?” I did not know that but her words lifted my heart.
As I looked at Jacques and Hadija, I noticed that on the window directly behind them, they had hung an old, tattered sheet where curtains should have been. I saw a gap in the fabric of that sheet and through that small opening I could see a small ray of sunshine trying to peek in. A tightness came to my throat as I thought about how both her David and my David are beloved.
As their four small children played quietly behind me, I knew nothing of what about why they had sought refugee status, but I imagined it had to have been hard to leave behind everyone they knew and loved. They had no family here and didn’t know anyone. Looking around the room, I did not know where they had nothing of material means, but what they did have was love. I felt it the moment I met them.
I asked Hadija if I could hold her baby and when she handed him to me, I felt worried. I could tell he was warm as if he was running a fever. When I mentioned that to Jacques, his smile disappeared, and I saw how concerned he became. He 9 told me they had taken him to the doctor and was prescribed medicine but when he went to the drug store to get it, he was told he would have to pay $56.00. I knew he worked nights as a security guard earning only $9.00 an hour, so I told him we would reimburse him. I had a feeling there was some mistake. I felt this was more about Jacques not fully understanding English. So, I called the drug store and found out I was right. The pharmacist said he was only trying to tell Jacques that he needed to show David’s AHCCCS (Arizona Health Care Cost Containment System) card and then there would be no charge.
I was just about ready to tell them that I really needed to go when another feeling came to me. I remembered the social worker mentioned their baby had a heart defect so I asked about that.
Again, Jacques became upset, saying he’d just been at St. Joseph’s Hospital, but was told he could not get a refill for the medication. I had a feeling that again it was the lack of understanding that caused the problem. I called the pharmacist he told me that Jacques could get more heart medicine, but that he would first need the cardiologist to approve it. That nice man told me to have Jacques return and that he would call the doctor himself to get approval. I felt so thankful.
I was gathering my things and trying to say goodbye, when Jacques asked me if I come and kneel with them in family prayer. Of course, I said yes. As I listened to the prayer, I could tell it was in Swahili and though I did not understand what he was saying, I could feel the most tender feeling and it brought tears to my closed eyes.
At the end of his prayer, I heard him say my name and then say, “Yesu Kristo” (Pronounced, “Hey-Zoo-Kres-Toe.”) which I later learned meant “Jesus Christ” in 10 Swahili. No wonder hearing him brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes. He was praying for me.
I was late getting home that night but thankfully when I called my friend Kay Bradshaw, (Parker’s mom) she said she would pick up the toys and she did. And I must confess that Curt was in a little bit of a panic when I was later to arrive than the guests but it all turned out well.
Over time, I went to visit this family often and we became friends. I initially kept going back because I could tell Jacques was an intelligent man, and I was hoping I could help him get a better paying job. The second time I went, instead of bringing books, I brought food, including a large ham, a bag of flour and rice, things I thought they could use. I also brought little toys for the children.
I was surprised when someone who, I thought, was a neighbor came over and Jacques handed her the ham! I knew he was generous, but I thought he should keep it for themselves.
When I arrived one day, I saw Hadija in their small kitchen sitting on the floor with two of her little girls, Solace and Asiya, as they surrounded a large silver bowl. She was letting them ‘help’ her knead the bread dough she was making. I went in to say hi, and she smiled at me as I went to go sit with Jacques in their living room.
As we sat there, Jacques began to tell me about some of the agonizing trauma he and his family had endured while they lived in Congo. My heart felt sick to hear his words, but I also felt a physical pain in the pit of my stomach. I wished no one would ever have to endure what they had been through. As he was telling me of experiences, Hadija happened to walk past us.
I could tell by the look on her face that she understood what he was saying. She put her head down as she passed by. Even though she made no comment, I could see how those 11 painful memories still carried the heavy weight of injustice of things she and her family had to endure.
He told me that only seven children were his and the other three he had brought with him when they came from the refugee camp in Mozambique. I was taken aback. I knew he had enough to worry about with his own seven children. I didn’t understand why he brought three additional children with them. He paused for a moment and then began to tell him his story.
He said they lived in a small tight-knit village that consisted of 350 people. He explained that during that time there began to be much violence between rebel tribes. This violence, created civil unrest, and displacement for decades. The complex history of the Congo has created ongoing instability, which has led to widespread suffering, with millions of people displaced from their homes and countless lives lost.
He said the tactic rebel tribes used to get more men to fight with them, was to invade other villages and forcing the men at gun point to join them. If a man refused, he was shot in front of his wife and children.
Jacques had a feeling trouble would soon come to his village. He told me that because he had converted to Christianity, he knew he could not join the rebel forces because that would mean he too would have to kill people. He knew he as a Christian that would be wrong.
Jacques took his family to hide in “the bush.” While they were in hiding, he saw a young girl from his village named Marie wandering around. She had two little boys with her. She was only 12-years- old.
When he asked her what was wrong, she told him. Marie’s mother had asked her to go to gather firewood so she could cook their food. Marie headed off and two 12 little village boys followed her. Those little boys played and swam in the river while Marie gathered firewood. Then, when Marie had enough firewood, she called to the boys and together they walked back to the village. But they could never have been prepared for what they would find.
She saw the smoke as they drew closer and realized that their entire village had been burned down. When Jacques went back to see for himself, he knew the evil tribal members did not take the men. Instead, they forced all the families into their homes, locking them inside, and proceeded to light the flames that would burn those houses down.
On that day, all 350 members of Jacques and Hadija’s village lost their lives. Jacques shared this with me to explain that he had to bring those three children with them because they had no one else. Ever since then, those children have been their children.
Today, all their children have grown up to be responsible people who are doing good in the world. Most of them have families of their own. I love this picture because the person giving Bunny Ears to David Mmbucwa and my son, David is Marie, the person who used to be that little 12-year-old girl who had gathered 13 firewood. Today she is happily married to a good man in the military and they are currently living in Germany with their little boy.
This dear woman is Florence, their oldest daughter, Florence who is the proud mother of four wonderful boys. I later learned she was the person Jacques had given the ham to all those years before.
Florence is now the proud mother of four darling boys including a sweet boy I met named James. He is as respectful and kind as all the Mmbucwa children are. When I met him, I gave him a big hug and I knew he had no clue who I was but I could not help myself. Jacques Jr. is now in college preparing to go into medicine.
Although there are still hard times in Congo and in ways it is not safe, that does not prevent Jacques and Hadija from returning. Jacques is a leader in his community, and he is working with others to rebuild what was lost so long ago.
And Hadija goes ever year for 4-6 months searching for children as beautiful as ours, so she can help them and their families and to make a difference in their lives.
She does this with her own money. Sharing gives her a small stipend every year to help, and even though she still does not have much, she is making a difference. She now can speak Swahili, English, and Spanish. (She learned Spanish while working in housekeeping at a local hospital.)
A couple of weeks ago my son David and I went to visit our dear friends. My son told me David Mmbucwa is his brother. I am certain if you look closely at this picture, you will see the beautiful family resemblance.
I know the families in Congo still struggle and do not have much. But they do have one thing I wish every child with Down syndrome could have, and that is someone like Hadija to love them.
Over the years, I have given them many of the pictures I took when the kids were little. I wish I still had them to show you, but I do still have the memories of all this family means to me.
Florence is the oldest sister and has five children.
Dieudonne is 38 and went back home to work. He has three children.
Jacques is 36 and lives with his wife and two children.
Rachel lives nearby with her two children.
Marie is living in German with her husband and young son.
Victorine is engaged and lives nearby.
Asiya works with children with disabilities and helps care for David as well.
Solace lives in Arizona with her daughter and husband.
David still lives in the home his parents built through Habitat for Humanity.
This is a video Hadija just sent me of their recent gathering. I know your heart will be touched as when you see the happy children and families dancing.
If you would like to help Hadija help those families you can donate to www.sharingds.org and earmark it “Sharing Down Syndrome Africa” and I will make sure she gets it.
With much love,
David’s Mom
“I will act as though what I do makes a difference.” ~ Ben Franklin
