One afternoon in Bini Dang Mission grounds, Ngaoundere, Cameroon, I heard children shouting and laughing, saying “Look! It’s the Snake, he has come to the Mission. Can you believe it? Ha! Ha!” Cautiously and curiously I edged forward to see a young crippled boy literally snaking his way forward on his belly, heading towards the entrance gate to the Mission. He was covered in brown dirt and dust as he laboriously pulled himself forward on the ground. He was absolutely filthy, but a beaming smile of accomplishment radiated from his sweaty, emaciated, eager face. He was about 8 or 9 years old.
I knelt down beside him and saw that his legs and feet were evidently severely physically handicapped, but his eyes beamed life, energy and determination. He was so happy to have arrived at our place against all odds! Questioning him I learned that he lived with his parents and 5 brothers and sisters in the quartier, and that he longed to see and experience what the other children were experiencing in the Mission. He had been listening enviously and longingly to the other children, but he was born crippled, unable to stand or walk. He insisted: “My name is Sali Jean. Please, I want to learn, I want to read and write and have fun. This is my first time to move so far.” He was utterly exhausted from the effort.
I was shocked, stunned, struck speechless. Mentally I fumbled desperately, wondering how to help the child. His dirty eager face was an anxious question mark. I hastened to assure him, “Sali Jean, you are so welcome! It is great that you have come. You are really brave and of course you can join in the activities.” He was thrilled, though I asked myself how in God’s name could he? The on-looking lads explained: “Sure, he was born a cripple, he can’t do anything!”
But I was determined to help and so I went to visit the family in their mud hut with a big black pot simmering on the fire outside. The whole scene was extremely impoverished, the mother looked defeated, worn out. She explained how they had nothing and had no hopes for Sali Jean, she was amazed he just kept living on. His unemployed father saw the boy as a ‘curse.’
A few days later Sali Jean arrived, again after a huge struggle, but this time he was lying on a board with wheels underneath, using his hands to laboriously propel himself forward, down the dirt track road. We clapped and cheered with delight and he beamed with satisfaction. We fed him regularly and helped with basic necessities and he became part of our Saturday morning classes for non-school going children. He also joined the women’s basic literacy classes each Monday and Friday mornings. He quickly showed that he was intelligent, eager to learn, the essence of politeness and bursting with gratitude.
Months later, after much negotiations, we arranged that he would travel to Sajocah Centre for the Handicapped, run by Cameroonian Franciscan Sisters, in the North West Province. It was a full 2 days’ tough journey with strangers, who spoke different languages, but Sali Jean bravely accepted the challenge. I promised I would visit him and bring him home someday. (Cameroon has approximately 280 indigenous languages; French and English are the official languages.)
The boy thrived in Bafut Sajocah Centre, where he got wonderful medical care. Also, he loved the company, the nutritious food, the loving care, the classes etc. He was transformed when I visited him after a few months later to check on his progress.
Then, 18 months later, this ‘VISION’ walked down the dusty road to the mission in Bini Dang: it was Sali Jean walking stiffly but so proudly, supported by 2 strong callipers; his face healthy, strong, well nourished, shining, beaming as never before. When he walked into the church for Sunday morning mass, the celebrant Fr Bernard Fox called him up to the sanctuary and told his transformative story. The people went crazy with delight, they danced, sang and clapped insisting, “It’s a miracle! A miracle! It’s the Resurrection!” There was not a dry eye in that congregation that day. God was indeed vibrantly alive and Sali Jean was living proof of new life, healing and love.
Your donations to the missions make possible stories like Sali Jean’s.
Psalm 136: Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good. His love endures forever.
Psalm 34: I will always thank the Lord; I will never stop praising him.
Republished from Saint Joseph’s Advocate, Scotland by Sr. Sally Hyland, SSJG. Originally published in the Autumn/Winter 2025 edition.
