Friends, this update was first released on September 1, 2006 and is only slightly revised for October 2011. Jessie appeared in the photo with me that was used at the lovely celebrations at the end of last month. I wanted you to see more clearly who she was and what she meant to many of us. She represents so many more children with whom we struggle, with your wonderful help, to keep alive in Malawi.

Mighty Lak a Rose

The first time I heard the song Mighty Lak a Rose it was sung over the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation radio network by Paul Robeson. Nina Simone also sang it in the early 1960s at Carnegie Hall. It’s about a baby boy and part of it goes like this:

Sweetest little fellow everybody knows
Don’t know what to call him but he’s mighty lak a rose
Lookin at his mammy eyes so shiny blue
Till it seems like heaven is comin close to you.

When I first met Jessie two years ago this song started to play in my head. Though not a baby and not a boy, Jessie seemed to me mighty lak a rose.

She was bright, and sweet, and respectful and interested in you. She was born with HIV. She suffered from both asthma and TB when we met in an impoverished Malawi village.

That warm day we talked with her under a few shade trees. She was stick-thin and wore a bright white dress, a white hat, and white shoes several sizes too large — all spiffed up to meet the Americans. One of our trustees, Ivan, loomed over her while telling her how much he liked her dress. Not missing a beat Jessie replied, “I like your shirt.”

In this little girl was an irrepressible spirit, and above is a photo that we took then.

Our Malawi staff have been doing everything possible to give her a chance, but anti-retroviral medications are in short supply in Malawi. Even more difficult is finding medications dose-adjusted for children. The challenges have been considerable, but Precious Chalera and Alice Bvumbwe, both GAIA nurses, have tenaciously borne with this little girl.

We thought a corner had been turned this past May when we visited Jessie in a rural mission hospital that we support. Her TB had begun responding to treatment.

But while some of us were in Canada at the International AIDS Conference Jessie died in Likwenu village. This was Sunday August 13. Next day she was buried.

What she had wanted was to go back to school.

Ivan said that news of this was devastating. Ninon said what a blessing it was that we could have met each other. Charlie said what an inspiration she was to everyone. Carole said she had been hoping Jessie was going to make it.

Robeson’s voice is in my head again. Jessie’s death is nearly unbearable, even as I ask myself, “What after all did you expect?” She symbolizes so many other kids, and in a way she represents our whole endeavor, the goodness of it and the hope, but also how hard it is.

Several years ago I copied down some words from the gravestone of Suzy Clemens, Mark Twain’s daughter who died young. They seem beautiful to me, and apt.