Young Espedi Emoyo arrived in Kenya this week, on a journey of a lifetime.  Mrs. Sophie, his "self appointed" guardian angel from the Baptist Hospital Center of Kintambo, called him “Espere-di”.  Espere means “hope” in French.  Espedi’s journey began more than 2 months ago, in his village in remote Congo where he tangled with a bicycle, sustaining a cut, a bump, and deeper head injuries.  His parents took him for consultation at a local health center, but they could not help.  So the Emoyos went to a regional hospital.  There also, nothing could be done for Espedi.  It took courage and faith to continue their journey, by foot and commercial truck, to the hospital at Vanga, more than 200 hundred kilometers away, because neither had ever traveled far from their village. 

At Vanga, Dr. Friedhelm, the missionary pediatrician, diagnosed hydrocephalus (abnormal accumulation of cerebrospinal fluid around his brain).  Surgery would be Espedi’s only hope of living a normal life.  The Vanga hospital also can't do the kind of surgery Espedi needed, so Dr. Friedhelm leveraged his network of consultants, and Espedi’s journey turned international.

A mission hospital in Kijabe, Kenya could do the evaluation and surgery Espedi needed.  Only one parent could accompany the young boy, so Mr. Emoyo would travel with his son and Mrs Emoyo would return to the village and wait.  Father and son first had to get to Kinshasa to obtain passports, visas, vaccination certificates, plane tickets, and doubtless, a few documents and certifications.  Wayne and I were in Vanga at that time, so Espedi and Emoyo took the road trip with us.  They traveled light, with one weathered bag, hardly the size of a computer case, containing all the possessions they had.  Mrs. Emoyo saw them off, nursing Espedi until the last moment, wrapping him in her cloth. and then waving vigorously as we drove off.

Having not traveled with small boys in years, I was ill prepared, without comforts to ease the journey.  Emoyo attended to Espedi lovingly as he dozed off and on, but when he began crying, Espedi would not be consoled.  I pictured his mother waving goodbye, and helplessly offered him the only child-friendly snack I found in our bag - a yogurt covered pretzel.  Though not familiar to him, and definitely not weaning food, it tasted sweet and held his interest even as the yogurt covering dripped down his father’s hand.  The crazy things white people eat!  Bread and bananas got us the rest of the way to Kinshasa, where Mr. Emoyo coughed in the fumes and ducked from his position in the back seat as on-coming traffic approached.  "Is this Kinshasa?" he asked.

The process of procuring passports and travel documents is fraught with complexities, so for a month, Espedi and his father stayed in a room at the Baptist hospital center in Kintambo, where the staff watched over them graciously and Mrs. Sophie, the janitor, took seriously their every need.  She insisted a weaning baby needed a thermos for morning “tea” and evening “milk”.  She prepared “proper” food each day, washed clothes, and other than Mr. Emoyo, only Mrs. Sophie could quiet Espedi’s crying.  He became her child of hope – Espere-di - and every day she told him God could heal him.  During his stay, Rita (staff nutritionist) and Yvette (accountant) rallied to purchase a jacket, shoes, and travel clothes for Mr. Emoyo since Kenya has a much cooler climate than Congo and he only owned worn out flip flops and the shirt on his back.  Because Emoyo could not easily leave Espedi, these resourceful women measured him with lengths of white cross rolled bandages which they took to market to hold up to the clothes they purchased, to be sure of correct size.

One early morning, Espedi and Emoyo took up their journey again.  I met them at 6 am, with Dr. Jerry, their traveling companion.  Emoyo speaks only Lingala and Kidinga, the language of his village.  Because Dr. Jerry speaks some English, he was an appropriate escort.  Mrs. Sophie arrived even before we did, bathed and dressed Espedi, and prepared his morning "tea".  She packed a duffle bag, not even half full, but with the warm clothes collected and purchased.  She prayed over her child of hope as we headed to the airport, “Oh God, we fear, but with you, there is no fear.  Take care of our child Espedi.  Help the doctors and give them wisdom to heal him.  Give his father and mother hope.  Bring him back safely to us.  ”  Her simple prayer exuded the love and faith of a Congolese mother.

Negotiating the airport officials had moments of drama, but with the careful escort of Dr. Jerry, the sojourners succeeded.  Espedi cried inconsolably in the airplane, unnerving the crew, and disturbing passengers around them.  Not knowing what to do, Dr. Jerry tried to hold the little boy, upsetting him more.  Dr. Jerry then remembered singing to his own boys, so he sang in Espedi’s ear until Espedi calmed, enthusiastically ate the food offered, and slept the rest of the way.  It was after midnight, before Emoyo and Espedi found a bed in the pediatrics ward at the Kenya hospital, with Jerry sticking close to interpret for them sights, sounds, and language.

Two days later, after a CT scan and laboratory work, Espedi had surgery.  An email from Kenya brought news back to Congo that surgery had gone well.  Mrs. Sophie’s child of hope now begins his healing journey.  Every time I am at the Hospital Center of Kintambo, Mrs. Sophie asks about Espedi, and I wonder about Espedi's own mother, back in the village, without news, waiting in" faith" - whatever that means to her.  Does Mrs. Sophie pray for her?  She does – “that God give her hope and not fear, so she can resist temptation to seek the spirits for her strength and Espedi's protection”.

Friends near and far made Espedi’s journey possible.  Mrs. Sophie, with her 2nd grade education, her meager wages, and her simple ways, gave generously and selflessly to facilitate this little boy's journey, whose “disease” she didn’t understand, but in who’s Creator she knows there is hope.  If the hospital at Vanga were not there, Espedi's journey would have never begun.  His parents would have had no choice but to return to the village and let nature take it's course.  There are also friends far away who made financial contributions to Espedi’s journey, and others who pray and support people like Dr. Friedhelm and us, so we can minister in Congo, where many children need hope.  As we look forward to Espedi’s return to Congo, pray with us for his healing.  We are so grateful for the friends who participated in this journey, and for the opportunities God gives to show God’s hope to people in Congo.  Will there be friends for the next child who needs hope?  Will the hospital at Vanga still be there?  Will there be a "Dr. Friedhelm" through whom God can bring hope?