Death, Sorrow, and Hope in Asia

Every morning, before the sun can shine on C. Village, Rose is already up, dressed in her prayer shawl, and ready to start her day with the prescribed two rounds of prayer. After changing into her regular clothes, she wakes her oldest son so that he can give her a ride on the motorcycle to a nearby restaurant where she works seven days a week, as faithfully as she performs her prayers. She makes a perfect employee: quiet, diligent, and poor. In a place where many are unemployed, she is thankful that at least she can depend on her wages of $4/day. It may not be much, but with the help of her mother’s income from the sale of fruits and vegetables from the garden, it has somehow sustained the family for several years without the help of a man at home. You see, before Rose was old enough to remember or to have any siblings, her father was killed in some kind of a brawl that took place in another province where he had gone to find work. So Rose was raised a single child by her mother who never remarried. Once Rose reached adulthood, she was married and, for the first time, had the help of a man in the home. Though there were often uncles around to lend a hand, it was never quite like having a man who felt a very personal responsibility to care for both Rose and her mother. In time, Rose’s home was filled with more life and joy; two sons and a daughter were born to her and her husband. So for a time, it seemed that things were looking up. Until one evening when Rose’s husband went to bed for the last time. Without any known explanation, he passed away in the night and left Rose and her mother, once again, without a man to provide for them. Once again the two ladies would have to find a way to make ends meet, this time to feed not just two mouths but five.

And so things have continued for the past four or five years. Every day, Rose has risen early to go to work at the nearby restaurant while her mother has done her best to find income from the garden or by working as a head cook for weddings and other events. In fact, a year ago when we put on the thanksgiving event upon completion of our house and the coconut factory, it was Rose’s mother whom we hired as the head cook.

Recently, Rose’s mother has been working at a garden they own several hours away. It is unusual for women to live and work alone in the gardens, but for Rose’s mother, there was a choice. She is obviously accustomed to doing man’s work; in fact, I remember watching as she husked a coconut at our factory, the only part of the process that is only done by the men. Even at over 60 years of age, she seems to have a lot of energy left in her. Or rather, she seemed to have a lot of energy left in her because five days ago, rather suddenly, she passed away. For Rose, the loss has been obviously heavy. Thankfully her boss at the restaurant, who is related by marriage, has been understanding and has given her some time off. But there is obviously no reprieve from the sorrow at this stage. She has no parents, no husband, no siblings. And still three children to care for.

The day before yesterday, Jackie* made some cake, and we went to Rose’s house to share some of it and to tell her that “our stomachs are sad to see her.” She recounted for us the chronology of her mother’s passing and expressed her despair at what to do now. There was little we could do or say, but we wanted somehow to show that we shared her sorrow. I told her of my desire to hire her oldest son at the factory when we add another drying table down the road. He has a reputation for being a good worker and will need something profitable to do with his time when he graduates from high school later this year.

Of course, the most grievous thought for us in times like this is the thought of where this lady is now and the hopelessness of the people of C. Village — and other villages — until they hear and believe the story of the Hope of the world. For there is salvation in no one else, for their is no other name under heaven, given among men, by which we must be saved. Please remember Rose and the rest of the lost who live in C. Village. They desperately need to know about that Name.

*Pseudonym used

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