Delivering Wheelchairs in Garbage Village

Our Egypt team had planned to spend the last two days of our service trip in a government run women’s shelter, hanging out with and counseling the women there. But after we arrived in Egypt we realized that God had made other plans for our time. As the door for our access to the women’s shelter was firmly closed, new doors opened up for us to join the “Mercy Team” at a local church in Cairo in delivering wheelchairs to people in need.
This is definitely not a ministry I would have ever thought of on my own, but it was truly amazing to be a part of. After a generous donation of 500 wheelchairs to this team, they created a process by which they were hand-delivering each one to those people in Cairo who were the most in need of help. The team delivers wheelchairs all over the city, in many different neighborhoods, but the day God chose for us to be a part of the work was the area where the trash of the city was collected and sorted.
I had been to Garbage Village last year, but I sat on my safe, clean tour bus while we drove through the streets to get to the Cave Churches (a site tucked away within “Garbage Village”). We got out of the bus at the churches, did our touristy thing, got back on and drove away. We were all amazed by the sights we saw out our windows as we passed through the city, but on this visit the experience was completely different… I was outside the bus, walking the streets, meeting the people, and going in their homes.
Before arriving, we went to the warehouse where all the wheelchairs were assembled. We went through the process of putting together one wheelchair as a team, while the Mercy Team delegates assembled 10. We were a little slow, ha! Then we loaded 5 wheelchairs on the top of the bus and off we went. We parked in Garbage Village, split up into two groups and walked through the streets looking for the homes we were assigned.
The first house we visited was a small home with 3 generations of family members sharing one big room. The woman who was getting the wheelchair was the grandmother. She had diabetes and at some point had fallen and become disabled because of a spinal injury and leg injury. She hadn’t left her home in NINE years. From the time we walked in the door, to the time we left, she did not stop praising Jesus. She was praying, crying, thanking God, and celebrating the goodness of her Savior! She was an absolutely JOY to serve. We listened to her story, we helped her into her wheelchair and taught her how to use it, and then we prayed over her. Our whole team laid hands on her and prayed with fervor that God would bless her, provide for her, and continue to use her in some way in spite of her disability. She held our hands, kissed our faces, prayed for us. She shone the light of Jesus, a blessed saint!
In light of that first stop, my last stop of the day was even more painful to witness. It was a night and day comparison. We went to follow up with a wheelchair recipient the team had delivered to the week before. When we arrived at his home, I didn’t even realize it was somewhere a person could live. The team knocked on a garage door and then pulled it up (it looked like a storage unit metal roll-up door) to reveal a dark, small 5’ x 5’ room. Inside, was an amputee propped up on a makeshift bed with a TV at one end, a small sink in the corner, a table with some half-drunk tea cups on it, and a small screened window just high enough on the wall to where the man could not see out. He lived alone, with no help, in that small room. There was no toilet or area to cook. And his new wheelchair was shoved in a corner, looking as though it hadn’t yet been used.
The doctor with us took a look at some X-rays from the man’s injury & surgery. He had a lot of metal plates in his spinal column and lived in constant pain. When the doctor tried to help him into the wheelchair the week before, the man cried out in pain. On this visit, the doctor felt there was not much he could do, and that the man’s condition was much worse than he first thought. The man’s countenance was terrible. He was very closed off, angry, emotionally withdrawn, and seemed to somehow communicate hopelessness in his demeanor. It was rough to be a part of. We asked if we could pray for him, and although he agreed, he was not engaged or moved.

The woman was full of light. The man portrayed darkness. The woman displayed hope. The man exhibited despair. The woman was experiencing life. The man seemed to be waiting to die to escape his misery. They were both broken, both in need. Yet their attitudes couldn’t have been in more stark contrast to each other. How do I process that? This was my lowest day, spurring questions and sadness as I surrendered the situations to the God who loves them both.