Rains and Dedza

After the harrowing hospital experience, I stopped by Shoprite, the largest grocery here, to procure an umbrella. We had a light shower the other day for about 30 minutes. Even this little shower had me so excited! I took a picture (left) from my window of the water flowing from the gutter. The temperature drops at least 5-10 degrees during these rains. So you can imagine my disappointment, if you realize that I haven’t seen rain in 12 weeks along with the promise of the temperature change, when the locals told me the shower was only a preliminary of the rains. But this morning, not 24 hours after I bought my umbrella, I stepped onto the porch only to see the rain pour from the sky in the most glorious mass of water! Thank goodness I bought that umbrella!

Below are pictures of the day two weekends ago that Louise and I spent at Dedza, a small town about an hour north east of Lilongwe (I think). The town is known for its small pottery cafe where locals serve coffee and delicious chicken lasagne. You can also buy beautiful but rather primative ceramics that are made on sight. The weather there was lovel-sunny but about 10 degrees cooler for being up about 5,300 feet above sea level!

Hospital Experience

How does one begin when describing things that one would rather not process? My student, Sally Changaya, recently underwent surgery for a ruptured appendix. She complained of an upset stomach in class from nearly the first day of school. Often, children will complain when they are unhappy or want attention so I waited to take action until her problem seemed serious. I gave her Tylenol one day, would often ask her to get a sip of water since dehydration is a distinct possibility here with only two ceiling fans to reduce the effect of the sweltering heat, and even talked to her parents who took her to the hospital on several occasions. I’m not sure how long the appendix had been bothering her or whether it could have caused a stomach ache for several months, but I know the rupture just recently occurred and was diagnosed when she went into the hospital for Malaria. Another teacher poked her head in my class Friday afternoon to let me know of her illness, and I immediately thought of a high school classmate whose appendix ruptured nearly causing her death and that in the States! You must imagine how I felt knowing my cheerful, truly adorable little Sally had just experienced the same with the level of care available here. Unfortunately, I said something to that affect with another Malawian staff member close by. Oh, I feel that I so often stick my foot in my mouth in that regard! If I were that staff member, I’d be indignant to have another person living in my country, constantly criticizing the availability of things. At least they are a forgiving people.

Dan Linsz, the headmaster, popped in my classroom Monday to invite Gratian, my aid, and I to visit Sally before our staff meeting. I agreed without even thinking and even hopped in his car after school without much mental preparation. AND, after a brief shock at seeing the morgue right next to the hospital, I even walked into the hospital, down the corridors of concrete and into Sally’s room without much thought. But somewhere along the line, my mind decided to check back in, and I began to process being in the Lilongwe Central Hospital. The memory does seem as though I experienced things out-of-body, from a bird’s eye though. First, there is seemingly no entrance-as we approached the building, I kept glancing sideways at Dan to see why we were walking straight toward a bright-but-for-the-dust turquoise wall. But just as we approached, you could see a little opening the size of a door to the right and left behind another protruding wall. As we entered, leaving behind the African sun which really does illuminate in such a way as to take a way the cheerfulness and convey the Jack London-ish fear in one from the harsh elements we saw a crowd of people milling around in the distinctly African colored cloths called Chitingis (sp?), most of whom have never seen Azungu or white people. They bring their sick ones from villages far and around but often come too late since they cannot afford care and only come when it is blatantly apparent that the illness is beyond healing without “expert” care.

The corridors were dark and dusty with people everywhere. There was no center desk or direction or anything that looked organized and sanitary. Dan said the hospital often goes without soap. Can you imagine being wheeled into the surgery ward knowing there is no soap with which your surgeon could wash his hands? At least most of the Malawians there don’t know there is such a thing anyway. After we passed a sign saying “Yellow Fever Mondays and Fridays only” which was actually referring to the vaccination but is one of those funny grammar blips that turns up printed in a humorous book somewhere far, far away from Malawi, we found the children’s ward.

The rooms are packed with children, and the glimpses we stole were more horrific for the narrowness of the doorways and the stench of pneumonia and urine mixed together. So many babys, just black arms and legs now in my memory, reached out of their plastic little cribs, wailing for who knows what reasons. One boy’s arm had been severely burned. We passed him as he sat on his mother’s lap with his arm raw, in the middle of the hall completely exposed to everything just described. But as we looked for someone to question in regards to directions, I kept trying to surpress awarness of loud crying and human voices. I remember being focused on asking directions of one man wearing a white-ish shirt which was the closest thing I’d seen to staff apparel and following his direction down a smaller hall into Sally’s room. She looked well, but after I regestered her cheerful face, dolled up dress (a second hand American girl’s party dress), and smile, I remember being unable to ignore the loud wailing. Apparently, a child had just died and the family was in pieces. There was such hollowness and sorrow in the cry. I’m not sure it was a cry but something else entirely: a window into someone’s soul I wish I had never heard. The African voices are pictures and movement. The very sounds seem to convey more than any other language or voice I’ve expereinced and to hear them convey grief was nearly more than I could bear. Sally’s mother then told us that the family grieving was one of five whose child had died that morning-and this, only in one of the three children’s wings. What can I say. I now know why my cousin, Hawkins, truly couldn’t talk about watching people die on September 11, 2001 in New York from his view on the roof of a building. The wailing was so close, just on the other side of Sally’s room, and there we stood rejoicing that her small, oh so tiny frame had not perished as well. But even that was a miracle coupled with the blessing of her family’s wealth. The hospital had no IV fluid available so her parents had to go out of the hospital to purchase some from who knows where.

How does one not become overwhelmed with the discrepancy between lives, peoples, countries? My Nana asked me how I managed to live as I did while having Caroline, a Malawian, clean our house each day, 3 hours a day, for $25 a month. I don’t know, but God gives and He takes away. He gives so that we may be gracious in turn. This afternoon (Caroline left not 30 minutes ago as I write to you), she took the three bananas I gave her which she was thrilled to tell me she would give to her children. She has more available to her as an employee on the ABC campus than most. What I have come to realize is this: I am given much materially and they are given little. This does not free me to be stingy but to be grateful that what we have we are all given (even if we “earn” it) and frees me to share, knowing nothing is mine (Freely you have received, Freely give. Matthew 10:8). And also this-even though I have much, God takes and gives things and life as he pleases regardless of insurance, health care availability, and wealth. Praise Him for life eternal! “I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand.” John 10: 28

Pictures at Last!

Thank you to my mother for mailing the attachment allowing me to download my digital pics to you! Here they are, long awaited and heavily requested:

Above are pictures of my room and the duplex in which I live with Charisa Chinchen. My bedroom window is to the right of the porch, getting as much direct sun as possible, in case the heat outside the sun isn't enough to keep me warm. Charisa bought our porch furniture in a city an hour away called Salima. The locals are known for excellent craftsmanship. This is the city through which I've travelled and stayed every trip I've taken to the lake. It's about 20 minutes from the coast of Lake Malawi.

At right, Sharon Harthoorn and one of her three daughters stands next to the Franz's pool just feet from Lake Malawi. Sharon's son, Caleb, is a student in my class with the Franz's oldest son, Luke. The Harthoorn family drove me to my first lake experience for the occasion of Luke's 6th birthday party. As you can see, their pool was lovely and helped contribute to the first relaxation I felt since arriving in Lilongwe.

Above, Louise, Pam, and Danny, the three Navigators missionaries standing beside Danny's car. The picture below and to the right is of us with Ryan on the right, holding the adopted children of the Bar family. We stayed with this family the first night of our trip to the lake. They have been here generationally and conduct a mission to the villages nearby. About the Navigators: Pam teaches a class at the ABC college while all three missionaries personally disciple individual students and hold various Bible studies. Danny drove me along with the girls and Ryan, a missionary with Children of the Nations, to the lake for my second trip. We had the opportunity to relax at a hotel called Livinstonia during the last three days of our week long mid-semester break two weeks ago. Danny and Ryan are from the U.S. while Pam and Louise are from Ireland and Northern Ireland, respectively.
Left, Louise and I enjoyed a sunny walk ending in a chat on a rock on the short beach outside our day hotel (we stayed at a cheaper hotel at night while paying to use the pool at the Livingstonia Hotel during the day). Below, Louise and I swimming laps at the above mentioned pool. Or at least floating. Also below is a picture of our dinner at one of the nicest restaurants in town, Buchanan's, on the last night of our three day vacation. Don't we clean up nicely? :)

The rest of the pictures are random. Here is a picture of a beautiful sunset right outside the front of the academy. You can see the flagpoles on which our many flags representing the student body fly. These are my children in costume for reading day. I didn't turn the picture right side before saving it to my USB key. Sorry! The picture that looks like the market is in fact, the large Lilongwe market where anything and everything is sold in little bamboo huts or just on the ground. These men saw me taking a picture and turned around to tell me not to. They think tourists sell the pictures. And last is a picture of a Saturday on one of my first weekends here. Charisa and I went to a flower and craft fair at a local school, Bishop Mackenzie. I am standing beside the drawings my children made and entered into the show. The assignment was "Draw me a Garden." One of my girls won 2nd place. I hope you've enjoyed the pictures I've taken so far and have a better picture for what my life looks like here!

God's Hand in My Life

The weather plays tricks on Americans (and those from the Northern Hemisphere in general) here. The date honestly can’t be correct. My body automatically tells me it’s the middle of summer. How can half the world, the only half I really know, be in a completely different season? I’m especially aware of the weather when I have the rare opportunity to take walks between 5:30 and 6:30 pm as the sun sets. Sometimes the sunsets are amazingly similar to coastal sunsets with the flat horizon dotted by frangipangi and hybiscus. The vastness of the horizon often dwarfs the trees and vegitation, making growing things seem much more feeble and vulnerable, as if they’re bowling pins waiting for some large object to level the little growth they’ve acheived. The October 9th edition of The New Yorker, by far the most interesting I’ve read in months, has an article on redwood trees. Apparently, the three tallest trees in the world, all redwoods, were discovered within a month and are close to 400 feet. While surrounded by such water sucking dryness, it’s hard to imagine a soil rich enough to produce that kind of growth. Even the childrens’ feet here are cracked and wrinkled, looking dry and callous.

But I have been thinking of my Northern Hemisphere friends and family a great deal and relying on their compassion and comfort after receiving my sad Bar results. Thank you for listening to me and encouraging me! This week God really uplifted me in a way I haven’t experienced in a long time, and I know that is because so many people must be praying for me before Him. He is so compassionate.

Several things happened this week to culminate in a hellacious and miraculous week all in one. This was a week in which God worked what I consider little miracles or ways of reminding me of his presence and care. First, my parents sent a FedEx package which arrived in Lilongwe Monday, October 23, but lodged itself securely in customs, with no end to the red tape of delivery hassle. But staff from the Academy were able to deliver the package to me this past Monday, which was a blessing in disguise considering it was one of the lowest days I’ve had since I can remember. In that package was a letter written by Mrs. Waldo Floyd, Jr., a contemporary of my grandparents. I do not converse with her often, nor did I even know she was aware of me being in Africa. But she wrote of being a sound sleeper and yet waking up continuously one night with me on her mind (and this on Sea Island stationary, leading me to believe first, she was at Sea Island, and second, she ought to have had a spectacular night sleep if she sleeps at all the way I do at the beach). That letter, in her handwriting, seemed to me a perfect example of how people serve God best when they are transparent, letting others see God through them. I really felt as if I had received a letter from God reminding me that I am in his thoughts. Can you imagine being in the thoughts of the God who created this world? It is mind blowing. Psalm 139: 17-18, which just happens to be the verse of our Bible curriculum this week, says "How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!" And 1 Peter 3:12 encourages me, "For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer…"

I was also having a huge crisis about my weight and eating properly. The weekend was disasterous considering I used food as a crutch to buoy me through the first days of depression after Bar results. But Charisa, my housemate, invited me to a step aerobics class Monday night which really turned me around. We sweated and jumped for about an hour and then did 15 minutes of intense abs. I still feel that I need to loose about 5 lbs, but my body has really returned to normal, as if the step aerobics class literally launched me from jumping around on the floor to jumping in to a good routine, inspiring more exercise and better eating habits. The third blessing from God this week despite down circumstances was the arrival of a Beth Moore Bible study on Daniel. Thursday afternoon was the first session and I feel like a new person. I meet with only three other women, all of whom are married, two with children. But despite their different stages of life, I already feel a tie with those women as one knows a good friend even upon the meeting and can savor the unfolding of the friendship with intuition that it will be a good one. Last but not least, Wednesday, our gardener, Thomas, picked the most beautiful okra and gigantic, open, dark green, turgid head of lettuce I’ve ever seen from the seeds I asked him to plant in the second week of my arrival!!! I think God was reminding me that we do reap what we sow while providing healthy food for me to eat as an answer to my mother’s prayers in my weight crisis. (At left is a picture of Caroline, our house help, with her daughter, Faith, and a yellow watermelon. I have to admit, depsite color, the melon tastes better than any Cordelia watermelon I've had!)

Thank you for your prayers and encouragement!