Notes from a Spinning Planet—Papua New Guinea (22 page)

I nod but suddenly feel worried about where this story is going. “I can understand how that would happen,” I tell her. “I mean I've been hypercautious here in your country. And I'm sure I'll completely let my guard down at home. But I realize that's not so smart either. Especially if you're in a big city.”

“That's true.” She looks directly at me now. “Something happened. Something that changed everything.”

I wait for her to continue, and I can tell by her eyes that it's not easy to tell this story.

“I was coming home from work one night. I'd stayed later than usual, and it was already dark. I should've called for a taxi, but I didn't want to waste the money, and, of course, I felt perfectly safe.” She shakes her head. “It's not a new story; it happens all the time in my country, but you never expect it to happen to you.” She pauses now, and I see her dark eyes glistening.

“Were you attacked?” I ask.

She nods with tears streaking down her smooth brown cheeks. “Two men caught me from behind. I thought they were just going to rob me, and I actually let go of my purse, hoping they'd take it and run-and leave me alone.”

“But they didn't?”

“Oh, they did eventually. But my purse was not the only thing they wanted. I pleaded with them, begging them as they dragged me from the sidewalk and into a dark, nasty building. I prayed out loud, asking God to help me.” Now a little sob escapes, and she holds her face in her hands and just cries.

I can feel my own tears coming as full realization hits me. I cant believe this happened to her. I want to stand up and go over to her, to hug her and tell her how sorry I am, how sad this is, but I'm afraid I'll tip the canoe. “You mustVe been so scared,” I say in a voice that sounds very small, like a child's.

She nods. “Terrified.”

Then there's a long, quiet pause, and I feel it's up to me to help her to finish her terrible story. “Did they rape you, Lydia?”

She nods again, very slowly. “Yes.”

“I'm so sorry, Lydia. That's…that's so wrong.
It makes me so angry
…and…and…” Then I begin to cry really hard. In fact, I think I'm sobbing even louder than she is now, and it feels like something inside me is just breaking, and I can't bear to think of poor, sweet Lydia subjected to something so horrendous, so brutal, so horribly wrong. It's like I physically ache for her. I bury my face in my hands too, and then I just cry.

“Oh, Maddie,” she says in a gentle tone, “please, don't keep crying like that. I didn't mean to upset you.”

I look up. “I'm…I'm sorry,” I say. “But I feel so sad for you. And it makes me so furious.” I shake a fist in the air. “Why do men do that? It just makes me want to go out and kill someone.”

“I know. Believe me, I've been through all the emotions. Denial
and disbelief, then a deep, dark depression, and then I got so furious I felt like I hated everyone. I was even angry at God. I honestly didn't know if I'd ever get over it. And I wanted to kill myself too.”

“What did you do?”

“I had to return to God,” she says.

“But you were angry at him?”

She shakes her head and wipes her wet cheeks with the palms of her hands. “I had to step away from my anger, Maddie. I knew if I continued being mad at God I would be left with nothing-I might as well be dead.”

“Yeah, I guess I sort of understand.”

“And, surprisingly, after going through all that, all those turbulent emotions and everything, and after I returned to God and put my life in his hands, I actually wanted to live. I mean I really
wanted
to live. Before all that happened, well, I guess I took things for granted, and I wasn't even sure what I wanted to do with my life.”

There's a long silence now, just the sound of birds and the breeze in the trees and the water lapping the sides of the canoe. But I can tell that she has something more to say. So I sit there, almost holding my breath as I wait for her to continue.

“There's something else,” she says in a quiet voice, “something I want you to know, something that I have kept very private.” She takes a deep breath. “As a result ofthat night, of being raped, I have HIV.”

Somehow I knew this was coming, but even so, I feel as if I've been punched in the stomach. This is so wrong.

“I didn't get tested, not right at first. Like so many others who live in fear, I didn't want to know. But then I got really scared about dying,
and I forced myself to go in and be tested. Of course, it was positive. That's when I felt like my life was over-my dreams were gone.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“That was when I really struggled with God, trying to figure out what to do, whether or not to give up. Being raped was horrible, but HIV felt like the last straw, the thing that pushed me clear over the edge. Going down that low is what made me cry out for God. It's why I had to give in to him, to seek his way instead of my own. That's when I started going back to church, and I made a couple of really good friends. And they helped me realize that I needed to tell my parents the truth about all this.” She closes her eyes. “I think that was the hardest thing I've ever done.”

“Your poor parents. No wonder they're so worried.”

“Yes. I always believed they loved me, but I suppose I sort of took that for granted too. And it wasn't something we ever really talked about. But I was shocked at how brokenhearted they were to find out about this. It was as if they felt it almost as much as I had. That's when I knew they really loved me.”

“And that's why they're so protective of you.”

“Yes. I know it makes no sense. I mean what happened
happened
, and there is no changing that. But I do understand their fears, especially Mom's.”

“Yes, so do I.” Now I feel guilty for judging Mrs. Johnson. No wonder she was freaking out over this trip. No wonder she's so careful for Lydias safety.

“After they found out, they didn't want me to go back to my job in Port Moresby, but I convinced them I had to do it. So they returned
with me and met my friends at church. Then they helped me find a safer place to live, very close to work and to the clinic. My dad had heard about Dr. Larsons work. So he took me to meet him, and we discovered that although he may look old, the doctor has some very innovative ideas for treating AIDS. He took me on as his personal project, and Im getting some of the best medicines in the world. Unfortunately, they're so expensive that most people in my country cant begin to afford them. But Dr. Larson wont take no for an answer. In return I've been volunteering at the clinic, and that led to teaching the awareness classes. Sort of a trade-off.”

I nod, impressed with how maturely Lydia is handling her life. “Wow.”

“And I guess this is where God makes evil work for good, Maddie. Because through all this horror, I've come to care greatly about people with AIDS in our country. I have compassion now where I would ve held them in judgment and contempt before. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“And its given me the desire to go into medicine again. Oh, I wanted to be a doctor before, but I think it was only to prove myself, to show off and impress people that a young Papua New Guinean woman could accomplish something like that. Now I know I simply want to become a doctor so I can
help
people, especially those with AIDS.”

“Oh, Lydia!” I feel fresh tears coming. Its like I cant stop them today. “That's so wonderful! Honestly, I don't think I've heard anything
in this country that gives me as much hope as what you've just told me. It's amazing.”

“Really?” She seems honestly surprised.

“Really!” I have to shake my head as I try to allow all that she's said to fully sink in. “I mean, I feel so sorry for you and what happened-it breaks my heart-but then to hear how you're handling it, how you're trusting God and wanting to put your pain to such good use. Well, it totally blows my mind. I wish everyone could hear your story, Lydia.”

She nods. “I know I should get more comfortable about telling it. But it's just not easy. There is such a stigma attached to this disease. Hardly anyone else knows.”

“I know about the stigma. I've seen firsthand how people react to AIDS in this country, and I've heard the horror stories. And we went to that hospital in Port Moresby-to the AIDS ward. What a mess.”

“Yes! That's exactly why I want to be a doctor. I want things to change here. And I want people to get educated. That's why I do the class. I even tell my own story, but I pretend like it's someone else's. I call the woman Tibisi, my birth mother's name-just to show that
anyone
can get AIDS and that we need to stop treating sufferers like criminals.”

“And it looked like you were getting through to your class. You had their full attention.”

She smiles. “Yes. Sometimes I wonder if they suspect that Tibisi is really me. But I want them to take AIDS seriously. I want them to get in and get tested or to use prevention or whatever it takes to start
Controlling this horrible disease. That's all that matters. We need to stop the poison before our country is in complete ruins.”

“Do you think it would be okay for Sid to hear your story?” I ask.

“Yes. I've already decided to tell her. And if she wants to use it for her article, I'll give her my full permission.”

“She could tell your story without giving your name,” I point out.

Lydia nods. “Yes, whatever is best.”

Just then I see a movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turn to see what I thought was a log now sliding down into the water without much more than a ripple. “A crocodile!” I gasp at Lydia with widened eyes. I cling to the sides of the canoe. “Do you think he can tip us over?”

“Oh, I don't think he wants to do that,” says Lydia in a calm tone. But just the same, she picks up her paddle, and we start moving away from that spot.

I take my paddle and try to imitate her calm, easy strokes, wondering how she can be so brave and then realizing this young woman has been through a lot. Soon we can see Kauani up ahead, and I feel myself beginning to relax.

We dock the canoe and carefully get out. As Lydia secures it to the dock, I thank her again for sharing her story with me, telling her I'm honored that she trusts me with it.

“I feel like we're related,” I say as she stands up straight. Then I reach out and give her a hug. “Like we could be sisters.”

She grins, then pulls away and studies my face. “Well, we don't look much alike, Maddie.”

“I don't know,” I say as I pull out my ponytail and set my wild curls free. “Our hair is similar.”

“Yes,” she laughs as she gives her shoulder length curls a shake. It is.

“And, don't forget, our mothers are similar.”

She nods. “Maybe we are related.”

We find Sid sitting out on the deck that wraps around one end of the house, swatting at mosquitoes with one hand as she writes something in a notebook. “Hey, you guys,” she says. “How was the lazy river:

“Pretty cool,” I say. “We scared a crocodile.”

She laughs. “Right, I'll bet he was shaking in his boots. Donna and Tom went to a village down the river to check on a woman who's having a difficult childbirth. They expect to be home before dark, and I told them we'd start dinner.” She glances at her watch. “She laid some stuff out and wrote down some instructions. Looks pretty straightforward to me.”

“I'm surprised you didn't go with them,” I say as I sit in a chair across from her. “Sounds like it could be interesting.”

“I considered going, but I didn't like the idea of leaving you two young things alone in the village.”

I glance over to where women are coming home in their canoes, and I hear the shrill cries of children's voices as they run and play about the village. “I don't really think we'd be alone,” I point out.

“You know what I mean.”

I glance at Lydia now, wondering if this might be a good time for
her to tell Sid her story. I can tell by her eyes shes thinking the same thing. I sort of nod, hoping she'll take it as a hint.

“I just told Maddie something out there,” she begins, “something that might be useful for your article, Sid.”

I nod eagerly. “It'll be hugely useful, Sid. It's an amazing story.”

Sid leans forward with interest, patting the chair beside her. “Come and tell me, Lydia. I've got the article mostly outlined, but it still seems a little flat to me. The poison metaphor is helpful, but something seems to be lacking. Maybe you've got the missing link.”

“I think she does,” I say, standing. “And since I've already heard the story, maybe I should go start dinner.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” says Sid.

From inside the house, I can hear their voices, mostly Lydias, as I read the instructions, then cut up the vegetables that Donna's laid out in the kitchen. I pray as I quiedy work, asking God to help Lydia with the telling of her story as well as with her continued healing, and then I ask God to help my aunt put Lydias words to good use. Somehow I know this will be the case. Somehow I know that's why we came to this country.

But I believe there's more to it. I think our trip has as much to do with becoming friends with Lydia as it does Sid's article. And I'm so thankful God was orchestrating the whole trip. Mostly, I'm just amazed.

A
fter a few more pleasant days in Kauani, we head back down the river with Micah in the motorboat and then fly out of Wewak and back to the highlands on Friday. Peter meets us at the Aiyura airstrip in the Land Rover, and we reach Lydias village just before dark.

After hearing Lydias amazingly moving story, Sid and I decided to take her parents up on their invitation to return for the dedication ceremony on Saturday. Tom radioed Mr. Johnson ahead of time to let them know we were coming, and they seem genuinely happy to see us when we arrive at dinnertime. Or perhaps they re just relieved that we've delivered their daughter back to them safe and sound.

Our little plan is to discuss Lydias future with them after dinner. Of course, Lydia is unaware of this. Sid and I barely put this plan together the night before we left Kauani, whispering in the dark after we were sure everyone was asleep. After a few fairly expensive longdistance phone conversations with John while we were in Wewak, Sid is now certain that Lydias college expenses will be completely covered by several wealthy and generous sponsors. And she can't wait to tell the Johnsons the good news. The question is, how will they receive it?