By Juli McGowan Boit | Published: October 1, 2013
Salina Matha Ong’onga
1979 – 2011
Guest at Living Room: May – July, 2010
Salina was among our first guests at Kimbilio Hospice. I remember the day I first met Salina, she was stooped on the veranda of the HIV clinic. Her sunken eyes and wasted frame told much of her story. She was sick and alone. When I reached out my hand to touch her shoulder, she looked me in the eyes. I noticed how young she looked, almost child-like. She asked me for a cup of water. As I knelt before her and offered her a drink, the doctor who had just examined her, flustered with emotion, came outside. He explained, “Juli, nobody wants her. Her parents are throwing her HIV drugs away, and she is dying. Her weight has reduced from 135 pounds to 75, but she wants to live. Can you take her to your home?”
Salina entered Kimbilio when her body and spirit were broken in so many ways. Love and care, along with food and medication, were required, and with them, Salina came back to life. Her weight and strength dramatically increased. Her family’s rejection of her had wounded her deeply yet she was not without hope. One night, as I was sitting at her bedside, she told me with tears in her eyes, “They did not want me, but God did not forget me.” This was her hope.
Two months to the day after Salina arrived to our little refuge, she was strong enough to leave. Salina was offered a job as an artisan through a group who supports people living with HIV/AIDS. One afternoon, I met Salina in a nearby town as she was walking home from her new job. The moment she saw me, she literally ran with overwhelming joy to greet me. With a sense of pride, she showed me the earrings she had made at work that day. The great contrast between the day I first met Salina and this day deeply struck me. She was now full of life.
In more ways than one, love allowed Salina’s life to be restored. I am reminded, as Jean Vanier writes, “We do not have to be saviors of our world. We are simply human beings, enfolded in weakness and in hope, called together to change the world one heart at a time.”
Like Salina, many came to our temporary Kimbilio Hospice facility in the depths of despair; with a lot of tender love and care, their health and hope returned, enabling them to return to their communities.
Salina is worth running for
Salina is pictured above (left) with Living Room staff-member Jane Yego
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