Taman Rista: Where lepers become kings

As we walk the worn path, the sound of cicadas in the jungle ebbs and flows without rhyme or reason. The smells of rotting vegetation, mixed with the sweet smells of tropical fruit become familiar. As the path rises, the climb becomes harder.  At the top, the jungle has been cleared and opened, allowing buildings to trespass on this patch of green earth. A sign announces that you have reached Taman Rista, a Leper Treatment Center to some. 

However, to those who are here, it is simply the Resting Place of Kings. This place resonates quiet. Not a strange quiet, or an out of place quiet, but a peaceful, resting quiet. The words “Be Still my Soul” come to mind. For a moment, it seems that even the cicadas have ceased their relentless chatter as the group pauses to take it in.

There are four buildings, each a four-plex. They have a well, bringing up some of the finest water in Indonesia, as well as a building that will one day be used to cook and serve food right on site. This will replace the current system of having breakfast, lunch and dinner brought over from the kitchen on the other side of the base. It really brings a new light to delivery service; our postal service may trudge along through the weather, but these girls come by 7 days a week, no matter the weather to bring food to these “Kings.”

Speaking of kings, a man on a porch rises when he spots the group. Like many Indonesians, his age is difficult to discern. His eyes are full of life, though one can see that life hasn’t always been easy. His wrinkles could give his age away, and scars mark him as leper, but at this moment they melt into a smile that instantly erases decades. Here is a man who owes his very life, physical, mental and eternal, to the hands here at Hohidiai. His face tells the story of sorrow and joy, if one were to sit and stare into it. More than that though, his body tells of a horror that the majority of people in the States will never hear of-much less see firsthand.

Hendrik was found; rotting, stinking, dying. Not unlike the poor fellow in the story of the Good Samaritan, he too had been passed over many times. One day, a young man from Hohidiai, sent to a village to pick up an unwanted child, instead found an unwanted man. To say that he found Hendrik is an understatement. The truth is-he smelled him. That’s right; smelled-not saw. Since Hendrik had the misfortune to develop leprosy, his village no longer looked upon him as a person, much less someone of any value. He was cast away and destined to live out his days at the entrance to his village in hopes of having some scraps thrown out. More often than not, he was the one at the receiving end of boys who were looking to prove themselves and their fists. 

His body failing him, his skin rotting, his clothes past being rags, he lay in the bushes to the side of the road. Imagine his surprise, his shock and his disbelief when after 5,475 days- 15 years- a man not only spoke to him but carried him out of the jungle, onto a boat and into the Hohidiai medical clinic. As their hands tossed his clothes into the garbage, washed his body with love, and placed a warm bowl of food into his hands, he could only cry. With tears streaming down his face, he wondered why? He continued to wonder why as a fiery, red headed Australian-a woman none the less-embraced him and let him know he was home.

As they treated his leprosy, Hendrik’s heart began to heal. Though he has lost his fingers, his toes and scars mark his body, he has gained so much more. Hendrik stands proud and his smile shines. Gone is the man who was treated worse than an animal, and in his place is a warrior. Here is someone who watches the comings and goings at Tamarista and here stands the one who has acquired the title of “the mayor”. This is a title that he has accepted with great honor. He keeps everyone in line, and though his leprosy is gone and he could go anywhere, this is where he has chosen to stay. 

Hendrik understands that every good and perfect gift comes from our heavenly father. In fact, he demonstrates in his love for others. When he heard that the general medical fund was running low, he made his way down the hill and across the base to give his donation; an amount that we could easily spend on coffee in a month-$60. Picture the woman in the temple giving all she had, and Jesus watching her with a smile on his face. Now, picture a leper, smiling as he walks past the banana tree, past the woman with AIDs who has days left to live, past the clinic where Muslim and Christian alike wait to be seen by doctors, past the children playing on the grass, and still on through the halls where children sing songs in English class. As he enters the office, he is beaming with joy as he hands over his money-all he has. He is proud to be about the work of his master. He is ecstatic to contribute to a cause that has eternal potential. He is loved, and in return he gives love. Can you see Jesus smiling now?

As the UNO cards came out, the gloves came off and Hendrik played with a childlike abandon. He tried to maintain a poker face while holding his cards in the crack between where his first finger and thumb used to be. Truth be told, he has a terrible poker face since he relishes any chance to slap down a draw four and grin from ear to ear. Though his eyes are becoming cloudy due to cataracts, and he is forced to hold his cards up so he can see, there is no where he would rather be and nothing that he would rather be doing.

As the game winds down, good byes are said, and the group heads down the hill- the buzz of the cicadas begins again. There is nothing spoken aloud at this moment; lost in thought, each person holds up their life next to this leper’s life and is found wanting. His generosity stemmed from gratitude, from the desire to give back, and with no expectation on personal return. His only expectation was that it would continue to go into the jungle and reap a great harvest. Can we give so freely? Can we give and not desire that it goes our way, that it benefits those that we deem worthy? Can we even expect nothing at all and simply obey the mandate to give?

Sometimes, as I lie in my bed, I think about the next time I will see Hendrik. The questions I want to ask him, the games I want to play with him, and I wonder if it will be in this lifetime or in the next. I guarantee, God has a special place for Henrik-and a brand new box of UNO cards waiting. I can’t wait to join the game.

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A special thank you goes to my friend Desirae Roosma, who shared this story with me after traveling with her family to Indonesia last year. If you'd like to read more about this ministry, you can check out International Friends of Compassion.

Blessings on you today friend.