In Shinyanga, Tanzania we visited some friends of my
Uncle Ernie (Father Ernie Brunelle, M.M.) who had leprosy. This man and his wife
had leprosy and were eventually cure, I think, with the help of Uncle Ernie and
some patrons back home. These folks built an oasis in the middle of nowhere full
of banana trees, mangos, rice and many other crops. Their home is large and very
neat; in fact, the place was very beautiful in its way. What was most beautiful,
however, was these people and their family. They had four children, none with
leprosy. Each was a delight and seemed to be very happy. The oldest daughter,
Rebecca, was married to George and had a beautiful little baby. The parents were
delighted. Also, since the baby was born healthy, George’s father had agreed to
pay the agreed upon dowry for Rebecca. This would be a great financial boost to
her family.

    Before dinner the whole family knelt in the dust to pray
the rosary and to thank God for his bounty. For an American I found this to be
somewhat remarkable in itself. The parents had no fingers or toes left and had
otherwise been disfigured from their bout with leprosy. These people could have
cursed God for their afflictions but instead held their rosaries between the
nubs that were fingers, knelt in the dirt in front of their mud hut, and thanked
God for the many blessings he had given them. It was beautiful and humbling and
amazing all at once.

    Afterwards as I helped them pound the husks off of the
rice and watched the chaff blowing in the wind, I couldn’t help but admire these
simple people who have nothing materially but everything spiritually. In many
ways I realized that I’d eventually be returning to witness more true poverty in
America than I’d seen in any of Tanzania.