“Mama Hanneke” devotes her life to African orphans
SHINYANGA, TANZANIA--It all began with a toddler named Mary. No one wanted the HIV-infected child, so Hanneke Cost Budde took her home. The Africa Inland Missions worker knew her life would never be the same.
Cost Budde, who came from Toronto to Tanzania in 1992, is known and loved for her maternal spirit. The locals call her "Mama Buyegi" (Mama Happy) or "Mama Hanneke."
"When I took in [Mary], a friend saw me… and asked, 'Do you know what you are doing? Don't you know you are going to get hurt?'" she recalls. "I thought, 'Why shouldn't I get hurt?'"
After losing Mary to AIDS, Cost Budde began caring for other HIV-victims. In 2001 she was appointed HIV/AIDS Coordinator for the Africa Inland Church, diocese of Shinyanga.
Today the 58-year-old lives in a house at the edge of Shinyanga with her foster children: Ngassa, a boy who'd been left to die at a local hospital; Kiri, a girl who'd been abandoned, Baraka, who'd been left by the roadside in a plastic bag at two weeks of age and Faraja, who was left at a cheap guest house.
With eight per cent of Africa's young adults dying from AIDS, orphaned children are becoming a new problem for the continent.
"There are no welfare programs here," Cost Budde explains. "Now that most aunts and uncles die, the children… are left on their own."
The church-run AIDS program focuses on caring for widows and orphans, as well as fighting the disease itself. Cost Budde has a cramped office in which she sees clients twice a week. "I treat them like human beings," says Budde. "I touch them. I hug them and pray with them if they want me to."
One particular 80-year-old widow lost all five of her children to AIDS, and is now looking after her granddaughter who suffers from an enlarged heart. Coste Budde helps the woman who can't afford to pay for the operation meet life's basic needs.
A network of donors allows Cost Budde to provide school supplies, uniforms, shoes, food and sometimes guardians for her clients. "I am willing to go all the way with them," she says.
She counsels them about HIV, explains what the future holds in regards to the disease and offers medicine, vitamins and hope.
"Our time is in God's hands," she tells them. "No man can tell you when you are going to die."
And as they're passing away, Cost Budde is still there, holding their hands, reminding them in Swahili that "Mungu" died for them and knows them personally.
"I have seen people die without fear," Cost Budde says. That's the best she could ever hope for.
"This lady, Mama Hanneke, is one of us!" says the bishop of Shinyanga. "Only her skin is white-her heart and soul are ours. She cares more for us than we care for each other. We need 30 more Mama Hannekes."
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