Written by Charlotte Steppling, U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer in Madagascar

For 33 years, Lezoma has been ostracized from his community for being different. Since he was a child, he has been teased for his appearance. Children would scream, point fingers at him and call him names.

At 11 years old he decided to drop out of school and work the rice fields. He found peace in the solitude of the rice fields. There, no one was around to call him names, no one was around to yell mean slurs at him. He was left alone to work.

As the years passed, Lezoma continued to work as a farmer and helps out during the various fruit picking seasons to make a living.

My first encounter with Lezoma was after I heard there was a young man who had a double cleft lip who lived in a small village off the main road called, Tsaravinany. I took my chances and biked out to the village, as I have done before to help bring patients to Operation Smile medical missions.

Once I reached his village, it wasn’t long before I crossed Lezoma. He was carrying large bundles of banana leaves and two large jackfruits which hung from thick piece of wood. I greeted him in local dialect. He looked at me surprised, even chuckled a little at the sight of a foreigner speaking local tongue. I asked if we could talk, that I had something important I wanted to ask him. I explained to him an organization called Operation Smile was coming to Madagascar to the capital, Tana, and I would love to have him join me to help him get free surgery.

His face brightened. He immediately answered: “You can fix this!” And pointed to his face. I explained that if he trusts me and would like to come up on to Tana with me, I would be leaving at the first of the month and I would pick him up on the main road. He agreed.

A few weeks later, Lezoma was selected for surgery. He walked into the operating room barefoot, nervous yet calm. I was present for the entire surgery and held his hand through his fear. Lezoma’s surgery went amazing, and his transformation was tremendous. His courageous spirit was a highlight of the medical mission.

Six months after we had returned from Tana, I biked back to Tsaravinany, the small village lined with rice fields and banana trees. To my surprise, young kids whom I had never seen before, ran up to me screaming, “Lezoma! Lezoma!”

My heart beat accelerated as I wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing that they were screaming his name. I arrived at a small coffee seller, and there sat Lezoma. His dark brown eyes looked back at me, and small wrinkled formed on the sides as he smiled. “Charlotte! Mandroso!” He welcomed me to sit. I ordered a small coffee with sugar cane syrup. “How are you? How is everything? Tell me about you,” I requested.

He stood up: “Charlotte, I have a problem! A big problem!” My heart dropped, thoughts raced, what could it be? Another health problem?

“I am so good looking now, all the ladies in town want me! I am now the best looking man,” Lezoma said.

He chuckled, that familiar chuckle I had heard when first meeting him. I exclaimed: “OH MY! Yes you are a good looking man!”

Later that afternoon I headed back home, as I turned around he waved once more, Lezoma smiled back at me, a completely changed man.