Earbuds

As we were leaving the medical clinic a couple of days ago, ahead of us we spotted a pair of earbuds lying in what would be our tire tracks in the unpaved lot. People were coming and going, so we had no idea who they belonged to.  

A few of the clinic staff, apparently on break, were seated on the lawn maybe  50 meters from our truck. They all turned to watch as Angellah got out of the truck to examine their condition, then pick them up. We reasoned that everyone at the clinic knows us and  that if the earbuds belonged to a staff member, someone there would let us know.  Because the cord had already been run over, we weren't even sure if they still worked. As we were pulling out of the lot, Angellah tested them with her phone and said they still worked.

We were maybe half way to the village when George received a call from someone we had never met. "Hello, George. This is Roy. I understand you have my earbuds." George told him that we found them in the clinic parking lot and that we would be happy to take them to the clinic where he could pick them up in a couple of hours. 

After our village run, we left them with the receptionist at the clinic and then thought nothing more about the matter. We had done our part. We kept them from being smashed in the parking lot and and returned them to the rightful owner. 

Then, this morning Roy again called George, "Hello George. You gave me the wrong earbuds! These are not mine. Where are my earbuds? I want MINE. What did you do with my earbuds?" George said, "Well, ok. All I can tell you is these are the ones I found in the parking lot. 

Tea for Two

I was sliding my tablet out of the way to reach my fresh cup of hot tea when in one fell swoop the tablet skidded and overturned my cup, rippled over my Bible study notes, splashed my tablet and doused my keyboard. 

A wave of hot fluid was streaming across half the dining table and would soon reach George's computer and paperwork. Quick! Think fast on your feet! I shook the liquid from the keyboard and passed it to George. 

He sprinted outside to wave it in the wind. I grabbed a nearby handful of dinner napkins to divert the spill away from George's computer. Zip, I swooped to the kitchen and back with a towel. Then, a quick mopping of my tablet's screen and the back of George's computer case made everything on the dining table right. 

One minute after the event, no one would have guessed the great spill had taken place, except George and I both felt we had done half an hour of aerobics. 

Little Talandila

We hadn't worked in that village long enough to know who everyone was, so when one of the women who attended Phyllis' workshops would be gone for two or more weeks at a time, we were hardly aware of the fact. Her husband would sometimes be gone for a week or more as well. It was only one Saturday afternoon, a few months ago, when he asked us for a ride to Zomba Central Hospital that we learned their small son was very ill, and being treated there.

We were relieved to see them a couple weeks later, and to find out he was doing much better. However, when we were out there this Monday, and saw he was lying on a blanket in their yard, and with great muscle pain in his legs, and other parts of his body also, we began to inquire a little deeper. They explained that this was a recurring problem since shortly after he was born, but that the doctors at the hospital couldn't discover what was wrong.

We offered to take him to a local private clinic to at least get him some relief for the pain and swelling, but also to see if they could diagnose the problem. The doctor massaged his legs with some sort of ligament oil, and gave him pain medication. I asked him to prescribe some calcium also, as a deficiency could cause his legs to cramp. Off we went, nowhere closer to a diagnosis than when we had walked in. When we arrived back in the village, still not satisfied, I offered to take him to Phyllis' and my doctor on Thursday, which was to be our next free day. His mother was quite grateful for the offer.

So, yesterday morning, we picked up little Talandila, and his father in hopes of getting to the root of this chronic condition. Within less than two hours, and after a number of blood and other tests, we had a diagnosis. It was Sickle Cell Disease, a very serious, but treatable genetic blood disorder. By early afternoon, they had given him a vitamin injection, and placed him on an IV drip, as he was both anemic, and quite dehydrated. He was to be kept at least overnight.

By this time his mother was with him, as his father needed to get to his job as a night watchman at a roadside lumber dealer. We returned home to prepare them both dinner as none of the hospitals, either government or private, provide meals. We had Angellah, Phyllis assistant prepare a traditional Malawian meal to make them feel more at home. By that time Talandila was quite tired, and settling in well, as he had lost much sleep from all the pain over the previous several days.

I spent several hours last night researching online, whatever I could about its prognosis and treatments. I was encouraged to learn there was much we could do nutritionally, along with some tips on controlling his environment, such as keeping him warm, and getting him a mosquito net. When we sat in the doctor's office as Talandila was being released today, we shared notes with one another. He appeared to be quite surprised we had learned so much overnight. I am reminded what an amazing tool this internet is for either good or evil.

Before taking them back to their village this afternoon, we stopped by town to purchase him a bed net, a heavy wool blanket, some shoes, a jacket, and a couple other items, all to help him stay warm and healthy. We'll be ordering some specific vitamins, and other supplements our team of volunteers can bring with them when they arrive in three weeks. These were. recommended through the research I was able to do last night.

All this in less than thirty six hours! Thank you Jesus for your compassion, and your great wisdom.

Winter's Chill

Although overnight temperatures had dropped into the 40s and piercing wind gusts were sweeping through the village, undeterred, 56 women gathered for our Saturday morning Discovery Bible Study. It was the coldest day of this winter season.  

The women had no coats or jackets to brace themselves against the chill, and almost without exception, they were barefoot. Each woman had only a ntenja, a  two meter length of cotton cloth covering her outer garments or draped over her head. Mothers with young children wrapped them inside this garment with only their faces peering out. No one was complaining.

Before the children's class began, a group of them, barefoot and dressed in tattered summer shorts and shirts, were huddling around a small fire of maize stalks along the edge of an open field, trying to get warm. In a class of about 45 children, none of them were wearing shoes. 

So much need, and so many opportunities to show the love of Jesus.