Bebe Ramona

We turned right at the big baobab tree and veered left down the small cramped dirt road. It hasn’t rained in 3 months, but somehow mud traces the path as it weaves through small fields of bananas and papaya. This stands in stark contrast to the trees and houses, each covered with a thin layer of brown dirt, baked on by the increasingly hot days. Just past the small fruit stand, where a young man lay napping in the afternoon sun, is the turnoff to her home. His legs poking out from underneath the flimsy structure of leftover wood and leaves serve as an impromptu arrow, pointing us towards her front door. As we park the car, there is no grass in her front lawn, only an immaculately cared for patch of dirt, religiously swept each morning and free from even the smallest debris.

We were at the home of Ramona Mdobi. (Pictured at the right, above) I had been there several times before, but this was the first occasion we had opportunity to come as a family. Early in the morning we had spoken in the small village of Sawe, a tiny hamlet about 5 kilometers outside of Babati. It is in Sawe that Ramona serves as pastor, and at the conclusion of the service she invited us to her home for lunch.

Ramona is now in her seventies. She walks bristly, fluidly in and out of the house, one minute to bring tea, the next peanuts, then soybeans. Her movement is a far cry from a month ago when I last saw her. She was very sick, unable to get out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time, and quite frankly, on the edge of leaving this world. I asked her what happened? How do you look so good? She responded with a simple, factual statement, “God healed me.” She has been praying with visitors in her living room. As they stood around her, she sat on one of the simple chairs that make up her living room. And in an instant she felt a power enter her legs, coursing its way up through her upper body. And then, she was healed. She stood up and went about her life; a life that has been marked by humbleness, a profound yet simple faith, and a commitment to loving people.

Ramona’s mother died when she was still a young girl. Her father, a pastor who traveled frequently, remarried quickly at the request of the church, an attempt at finding a new mother for his children. The woman was young, and brought to the marriage her own children. Each morning, as their father was typically gone, Ramona’s step mother would force Ramona and her brothers and sisters from the home, to the river to gather water, to the forests to gather wood. All the while, her stepbrothers and stepsisters rose late, enjoyed breakfast, and casually walked off to school. By the time Ramona and her brothers and sisters returned home, the food would be gone, and they would rush out the door to school as well, only because of the work, each day they were inevitably late and punished. The stepmother actually taught at this same school they all attended and would warn the other teachers, “watch out for these children, they are lazy, watch, they will be late again, they must be punished.” When I ask about her feelings towards her stepmother now, she answers deliberately, confidentially, “I am thankful for everything she did. She taught me to rise early, to work hard and to deal with each and every situation I found myself in. She was young as I said, and she had her own things to deal with, I appreciate her.”

When Ramona was 15 she dreamed of serving God and serving people. That dream led her to a small village in Tanzania called Nkaiti. She worked on the first missionary compound here, as missionaries and nationals living there helped to establish congregations throughout the central part of the country. One morning she awoke early on a Sunday to prepare breakfast before the caravan would leave to begin the day’s travels. As she entered the kitchen, she didn’t notice the long black snake curled by the door, and before she could see what happened, the snake lunged, biting into her leg. People gathered at the scream, found Ramona and went for the snake. When they had killed it and opened its mouth, they were struck with the reality of what happened. Two long fangs dropped from the roof of its mouth, the vessel of the poison that was now residing in Ramona’s leg. They did not take her to the doctor. They lay her down on a small bed, two women beside her, each praying nonstop. She lay there the entire day, unable to hear, unable to open her eyes. She says she found herself walking down a road, further and further into the distance. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, scripture echoing from the distance, “they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all.” And she woke up. She had lay there for 10 hours. But now she got up, and she carried on.

She married at 25, finding love with a fellow pastor. They spent years ministering together, village to village, church to church. Later in life, she would get very ill again. She was bedridden, and her husband refused to leave her side. Days turned into weeks and she showed no improvement. Her husband had to leave, but only for the day. While he was gone she took a turn for the worse, family gathered around and she clung to each breath. She was determined to make it until her husband returned, to be able to say goodbye. She made it, and we he returned home he brought with him a pastor that prayed over her, that assured her she would get better. It was late, but the man told her that she would fall asleep and wake up at midnight. That she would want porridge, to give it to her, and she would be all right. Everything happened just as the man said. And again, she was healed. And she continued.

Ramona and her husband would have six children, all daughters. Later in life she would lose one, one of the more painful experiences of her life. A moment she again rested on God to get through. Today all five remaining daughters are touching the world and spreading love in their own ways. Those 5 daughters have given her 12 grandchildren.

I went back to see Ramona again today. Today is actually her 73rd birthday. Deanna baked her a small cake and we dropped it off at her house. When we arrived we found her in her living room again, this time with a young girl. The girl had been raped about a year ago, and the product of that encounter, a young son, lay sleeping on the couch beside her. Ramona did not know the girl, but found out about her from some friends. She is from a different community, a different church, a different denomination. But Ramona wanted to help, to love. So she called her, and is helping to care for this young mother.

As I said, Ramona continues to pastor the church at Sawe. She continues to care for and mentor numerous people in the community. Even at her home, generations of her and her husband’s family are taken care of. She works with the woman of the church at large, she teaches a small youth choir. She makes her own porridge and sells it to the community, plants and harvest fields of bananas, oranges, and papayas.

Quite simply, she carries on. She loves and she walks in faith. And God is not finished with her yet. She is everything I want to be.