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.

Down by the River Farming God's Way

Because Lydia, a new believer, is our friend, her community warmly welcomed us, so today was our first opportunity to teach them Farming God's Way vegetable gardening.

Angellah taught them  the importance of living by Farming God's Way principles: to compete their work on time, at high standards, with no waste, and with joy. They learned that living and farming by these principles honors God and God will bless those who honor Him.  We were very pleased that they asked very good, thoughtful questions. 

The first half of the class was instruction. They learned that when properly prepared a local native plant, Blackjack, makes a good pesticide which can safely be used on their vegetables.  

The second half of the class took place by a river some distance away,  in Lydia's prepared field. There, everyone had hands-on opportunities to apply and practice what they had learned.  Raised beds were  measured and prepared. On these, mustard greens, Chinese cabbage, onions, and red beans were planted. 

Everyone participated in clearing, measuring, planting, and watering.  Then, after the field work was completed, Angellah encouraged them to pray that God would bless them. They turned to me and asked me to pray for them, so I prayed in Jesus' name that God would bless them and give them success as they seek to honor Him with their farming. 

They were a great class. The seventeen men and women were very attentive and stayed engaged during the four and a half hour class. At the conclusion of the class, we asked them if they are interested in learning more about Farming God's Way.  They eagerly said they are, so our next class is to take place in June. That class will focus on how to make  fertilizer by using large-scale composting.  

God opened the door for us to teach in this community. We are eager to use this opportunity to share the love of God and to make friends and meet needs in the community. We are believing that God will use us there for the advancement of the Gospel. 

New Shoes for Lydia

Last week, after  searching several shops in the market, we found support shoes for our friend, Lydia, who has some disability in one of her legs, making it difficult for her to walk.  She had a pair of shoes and a brace, but they were so badly worn that they no longer gave her support. We made arrangements with Lydia to take her with her daughter accompanying her to see an orthopedic doctor at the hospital.

But when we arrived there on Friday, we were disappointed to hear that the doctor wasn't there and would not be in all day. The nurse instructed us to come back on Monday. I asked, "Will the doctor definitely be in on Monday? And will Lydia be fitted then?" The nurse answered affirmatively. Assured, we told the nurse that we would be back on Monday.

The anticipated day finally arrived, so, early this morning, George and I drove out to the village and  brought them to the hospital to get Lydia's shiny new shoes fitted with a brace that will help her walk. This was our second long journey with her to the hospital, so we were praying that she would be served today. 

 But, when the double doors to the orthopedic ward flung open, we saw the small room was crowded with about 25 mothers with their physically and mentally disabled children, all seated on the floor, waiting for the children to be taken in one by one for physical therapy.  There was hardly room for the door to close behind me.

The same nurse we saw on Friday met me at the door. After formal greetings, she said, "As you can see that there are many people here today for therapy, and we are very busy. Just sit down and wait." I answered, "No. I am just fine standing here. How soon will the doctor see Lydia?" She responded, "You can leave the shoes with us, then you can call to find out if the shoes are ready. When they are ready, you can come and pick them up."  That didn't seem logical to me, so I said, "How can you fit them if Lydia is not here to be fitted? She needs to be here so the doctor can fit the brace to her."  

One man  (I am guessing one of the therapists) who had been sitting on a motorcycle (don't ask me)  in the corner of the room joined the conversation. He got up, looked sternly at me, and said, "What can we do for you (pause) people?"  "I am not the one with the need," I responded. "Lydia is the one in need. She came here to get her brace fitted,"  

Stretching his hands toward Lydia, he said,  "Let me see the shoes." As he rolled the shoes over in his hands he said, "Many times I see shoes with soft soles, but these are fine shoes. They will do. We will call you when they are ready."  

That was my signal that the therapist intended to do something for Lydia today, and in my heart, I was thanking God for giving us favor. I then turned to Lydia's daughter and said, "You have our phone number, right? Ok. When the shoes are fitted, just call us, and we will come." The arrangement was made. I thanked the nurse and the therapist, and before any further obfuscation, I left. 

After about 3 1/2 hours, the anticipated call finally came, and we drove to the hospital. Just as we rolled to a stop in the parking lot, George saw her at a distance in the rearview mirror, walking toward us. I asked, "Does she have on the new shoes? Is she walking better?' George affirmed, "Yes! Those are the new shoes!"  Then suddenly, she was standing beside the truck. I have never seen her look so happy. Her eyes were sparkling, and her whole face was smiling as she said, "I am now beautiful!"  What an amazing thing to say!  "Yes, you are beautiful," I told her, "But you were beautiful before. I am so happy for you!" 

I realized how much this small kindness meant to her. Although she never said anything about being ashamed of the old, worn shoes and brace, this expression of God's love made her feel beautiful.  Now, how much is that worth? Priceless.

Get Out the Vote

I am now convinced that by comparison, there is nothing very interesting, creative, or exciting about American politics, and compared to political elections in Malawi, American elections are BO-RING!   In the US over time many people become rather cynical and begin to see both the politicians and the process as all same-same. That is probably why many people choose to snooze through Election Day.

Some in the US complain that they dislike the two major candidates and  feel as if they are choosing between bad and worse.  Not having a choice is certainly not an issue here in Malawi.  When I say Malawi is a multiparty democracy, I mean multi-party. I recently read that there are 46 political parties. Most of them are extremely low budget and don't stand a chance of winning an election. Many of their presidential candidates probably would not be recognized by the majority of citizens, and practically no one could tell you the platform for most of these parties. I believe many of these contenders hope to gain enough attention and votes to find a position in the winning party after the election. 

Of all 46 parties, there are only a few well recognized, serious contenders. The ruling People's Party (PP) colors are orange and black, and their symbol is a lock and key. The Democratic Progressive Party (DPP) colors are blue and black, and their symbol is three ears of corn. The United Democratic Front (UDF) colors are yellow and green, and their symbol is a pair of clasped hands. The Malawi Congress Party (MCP) colors are red, black, green, and white, and their symbol is a rooster. 

Malawians only get to vote every 5 years, and virtually everyone counts that as one of their cherished rights.  So, over the past year, and increasingly over the past 6 months or so, Malawi has been buzzing with excitement about the May 20 presidential and parliamentary elections.  

Everyone is talking about it, and displays of party affiliation are everywhere. It is impossible to not notice. Unlike US politics, in which candidates count on outspending one another with billboards and TV ads and most people don't let their political views be publicly known, politics here is propelled primarily by grassroots community activism, and evidence of that is everywhere. Instead of posting yard signs, many people proudly wear their party's colors. 

Each political party prints beautiful, specially designed cloth, usually bearing the candidate's image and their party's logo. In many places, these are used as banners above major roads and intersections. They are also used as flags. Party flags are furled above little shops along rural roads and above stores in the city. Hundreds of them are now hanging from light poles and bamboo poles and  even high in trees along the roads into Zomba.  

Many tailors turn this colorful cloth into beautiful women's skirts, hats, and dresses as well as men's shirts. Along rural roads we often see throngs of women adorned in beautiful political statement clothing. Ahead of our vehicle may be a sea of party affiliated blue, yellow, orange, or some other party color, as people walk long distances to attend rallies, which are usually staged in soccer fields.  There is no need to ask how they plan to vote or even where they are going, because they are proudly wearing their political preference. In addition to all of this display of party affiliation, party teeshirts and hats are also very popular, and candidates often distribute these at these large party rallies. These events include speeches as well as much singing and dancing. 

To take their positions to the people who have no access to printed material, politicians mount huge speakers to their vehicle's roof and cover the hood as well as side and back windows with posters and party banners. Then they drive through rural communities loudly playing popular music, which, of course, attracts a crowd. 

Often, people pour out of their houses and into the road and begin to dance, following along as the vehicle moves forward.  The vehicle stops from time to time to gather a crowd, pass out fliers and make speeches.  We recently saw a candidate standing in the back of a pickup holding up a lightbulb as she moved through Zomba. Evidently, the theme of her campaign for district council is "I have the bright ideas."  

So, this Tuesday, May 20 is Election Day.  Most people take this very seriously, and they have made great efforts to be informed,  as informed as they can be.  Rural people are sometimes persuaded by promises of development: roads, electricity, water, so when rural citizens are notified that a political candidate will be in the area, within reason, they will walk there to hear them speak about these things and to get the freebies, mere trinkets, they are passing out. 

Once every five years, rural people feel as if their leaders are really interested in them, and being heard is very important to Malawians.  So, voters here don't sit out elections. In fact, voter turnout was an amazing 104% in their last presidential election in 2009.  Hmmm??? I am not sure how that compares to recent US elections. 

The Landlord, the Plumber, and the Leaky Geezer

For those who don't know, in March, a major leak occurred at our water heater, or as they call it here, geezer, which is located in our attic. Water poured through and collapsed our bathroom ceiling, streamed down the hallway, and flooded our living room. This occurred just before a team of volunteers was coming to help us with our work. We knew we had to get this problem solved, and soon. 

We called the landlord, and the landlord sent the plumber, who came, looked at the problem and asked for a plastic bag. Well, ok. He turned off the water, drained the tank, and used a strip of the plastic bag to wrap the threads on the leaking water line. That held for a while, but after the team left, we began to notice water again dripping down the bathroom wall. 

 Again, we called the landlord, who this time brought the plumber. Although he didn't tell us his solution, with the blessing and encouragement of the landlord the plumber climbed into the attic, turned down the temperature on the geezer, came down and reported, "We have the problem solved and have stopped the leak."  George and I found out about the temperature reset later, when it was time to take our showers. Brrr! 

Not that they are related, what followed next was a week of flu for each of us. Neither of us felt like seeing the plumber during those days. So, although the water from the geezer went from hot to tepid, the lines continued to slowly leak, and the water continued to drip, drip, drip from the ceiling and drain down the walls. Repairing the leak would have to wait until we were feeling better. 

So, yesterday we called the plumber, and he and the landlord came out this morning. This time, the plumber was certain that he had a sure solution. Seeming rather pleased with himself, he walked us around the house to an alcove near the driveway. Then he said, "I know how to fix your leaking geezer problem. The leaking geezer damages your ceiling, so, I will move it outside, here on this side of the house. When the geezer is outside, the water can go down the drain, so a little leak will be no problem."  I wasn't quite sure how to respond. Incredulous, I answered, "Uh. No. We will not move the geezer outside, and we will not have a leaking problem, not even a little one. Moving the geezer outside is not an option and having a leaky geezer is not an option. Uh, ok?"

Village Clinic Run

Today was clinic day for the villages. Each week when we drive into the villages, we anticipate seeing many sick people waiting for us to take them to the clinic. We always have to choose between the sick and the sicker, those in pain and those in greater pain. It is not easy.  

After we listened to their pleas and sorted it out a bit, we determined that nine of those people really needed to be taken to the doctor, but our vehicle would hold no more than eight more passengers. After the final prioritizing, the seven patients who came with us were suffering from a broad array of illnesses, including high blood pressure, HIV-AIDS, heart problems, an infected foot, measles, ulcerated sores on the legs and chest, and paralysis.  The final seat was reserved for the sister/ caregiver who came to attend the woman with paralysis.  

Regrettably, several others who were waiting for us had to be left behind, including a woman very ill with malaria, a child with malnutrition, a woman with a toothache, and a man with undiagnosed general body pain. The woman with malaria and the man with body pain went to the clinic just last week, so we left them behind and took their medical books with us. The doctor will generally send medicines to those left behind if we can show him a record of their recent diagnosis. After everyone was seen, I asked for vitamins for the malnourished child, and the doctor was happy to prescribe those. 

All of the patients were seen, but the only one who did not receive medications or a satisfying answer was the woman with paralysis. The clinic did not have the equipment to help her, so she was referred to the general hospital. 

The problem was, the woman was terrified of going to the hospital and was very resistant. Her sister/caregiver pleaded with us to support her in her decision to take her sister anyway. George and I stayed out of the conflict, but our whole van full of patients began to say, "Yes! Just like the doctor said, you must go to the hospital!"  

So we delivered them to the hospital.  We found a wheelchair and put her into it, and wheeled her into the waiting area.  Hospitals here do not provide food for patients, so we gave the caregiver enough quacha to buy food for her and her sister for several days. We also gave her a phone number where she could reach us and let us know how her sister's treatment is going and when she will be dismissed. While those were getting settled, I distributed sandwiches, water, and bananas to all. 

When lunch was over, we were all ready to travel.  It had been a long day. About halfway along the trip back into the villages, I pulled out a giant grocery bag of popcorn and passed it over my shoulder. Very soon, there was a lot of munching and excited talking going on in the back seats. They were saying how grateful they were for what we had done for them. They said they believe that God will bless us. They could not imagine how blessed George and I already feel.

Rural Evangelistic Outreach in Malawi

We are very thankful for the 10 days of ministry with Larry  and  LaVonna Cockerham and their team of 7 from Cleveland, Tennessee's Living Word Church. Over the past 15 months, George and I have been loving people and meeting needs in two rural unreached villages here in southern Malawi. The time had come to give a clear Gospel witness and an invitation to know the Jesus we have been telling them about.  

On the two nights we showed the Jesus Film, 220 men, women, and children raised their hands, prayed a prayer, then rushed forward to turn in their registration cards - a clear indication that they were making a firm commitment to let Jesus change their lives. Afterward, some of them deeply moved came to us and said, "We never knew these things." 

From the video, they learned that Jesus heals, and a huge crowd stepped forward when we offered prayer for healing. We are certain that these communities will never be the same! God is bringing new hope and changing lives. 

On the night of the showing, we invited those who responded to the call to know Jesus to a Discovery Bible Study on Saturday. Of course, we had no idea how many would come. Over 300 people came to study the Bible! Already, they are asking for Bibles, so we plan for each person who attends regularly to have their own Bible, pen, and notebook. 

George and I feel like parents with a nursery full newborn followers of Jesus. We ask for prayers for us as we teach the men, women and children and ask God to raise up leaders. Pray that the people will experience answers to their prayers and for these new believers to grow strong in their faith and obedience to follow Jesus. 

Dinner Date

It was nearly dark when we sat down to dinner last night at a newly enlarged and remodeled restaurant here in Zomba.  As we glanced around, we realized that the whole staff was preparing for some huge event. Of course, we had no idea what, but we knew it was going to be big.  

From time to time, we saw the owner moving smoothly through all the staging, pointing here and there, orchestrating the event. Then, lights flashed on a huge stereo system, and it began pulsing an African beat. All the while cases and cases of drinks were being loaded in the bars and candles were being lit at each table. 

When dozens of  UNICEF emblazoned SUVs  began pulling into the lot a few minutes later, we saw whose event we were sitting in the middle of. Evidently, this was the opening day of this massive aid agency's conference.  Soon, attendees were feasting on the sumptuous buffet and chatting around  the two open bars. 

George and I were quietly reviewing the day, and taking it all in as we enjoyed our meal, but our eyes popped when the live entertainment started.  As the music pulsed, two midgets took the stage and started dancing like I didn't know was possible. A variety of American rap and Malawian Chichewa music rocked the place while the two midgets grooved on. 

Near the end of our meal, one of the little dancers swooped out of his teeshirt, swirled it about his head, flung it to the side and continued dancing. 

Not to be outdone, the other midget dropped to the floor and began breakdancing and doing one arm handstands. It was certainly not what we expected when we sat down for a quiet dinner for two. 

Lydia's Literacy Class

Wednesday February 12, 2014 

Lydia's Literacy Class

Just before we traveled home for a visit in November, the women of Kainga had asked me to help them with their Chichewa literacy class. I told them that we would love to be involved in their literacy class. Of course, there was a long interval between the time we were asked to help and the beginning of our new sessions of classes in January, and they may have thought we forgot, but that wasn't the case. We wanted whatever we gave them to be practical, versatile and durable. 

We described what we had in mind and gave specific measurements to a young carpenter, Jeremiah, who helped us acquire materials necessary to build two easels which would double as a chart paper stand and a blackboard. There is no Home Depot, so acquiring the materials was not as easy as it may sound. 

First, George drove Jeremiah out to a market in Chinimwale where men were milling logs  by hand into what is locally called  "timbers." It is always fascinating to watch as two men with a long logger's saw cut with precision a large section of tree trunk into long boards.  We found the chalkboard paint, the clear varnish and brushes in a little hardware shop called Mechno's. The chain and hinges to support the easel came from a little booth inside the market, and we found the chalk in at a little copy shop  by the bus depot in downtown Zomba. When all the materials were finally collected, Jeremiah started the  project. 

While the work was in progress, George and and I drove out to Kainga to get a first hand look at the program.  When we arrived, the women were sitting on the bare ground among a cluster of homes just by the mosque. 

A woman named Lydia, the teacher, sat with a semicircle of about a dozen women clustered closely around her.  She was teaching them the names of vowels and their sounds. Some of the women had scraps of pages from an old notepad, and others had small paperback booklets, each with about 10 pages. Some of the women had no materials at all, and I watched as other women in the group tore their notebooks in half to share with their friends. Their pencils were all just well worn stubs. 

Lydia had cut the top and bottom out of a large tin can, old and brown with rust. Then she cut down the length one side to make a flat writing surface. She laid it in the circle of women and was using a piece of charred wood to write the vowels for her students to copy. 

One of the women proudly showed me a page of vowels in her notebook, saying, "This is my first writing," and of course, I commended  her for her work. Obviously, these women were making a great effort to be resourceful, although they had almost no resources. 

As I was observing this class, my mind went back to some of the well furnished classrooms in which I have taught over the years. I thought about how readily available materials for teaching and learning are in the developed world and how they are generally taken completely for granted.

Our visit to this class made it very clear that any help we could give would be valued and very much appreciated. George and I knew that we wanted to do more to encourage the women to continue learning. So, on our very next visit, we gave each woman a notebook and pen. 

I am happy to say the easels are finally built, and today Jeremiah primed and  varnished them. He will come back tomorrow to apply the blackboard paint, and after they dry, they will be ready! We are really looking forward to presenting Lydia with the easel, chalk, and chart paper when we return to the village on Saturday. 

Our desire is to bless these women and encourage them to continue learning and that God will use these gifts to help us build closer relationships in the community as He prepares them to receive the Gospel. 

Baby Obed of Muima

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

We were scheduled to conduct a Changu Changu Moto cookstove workshop this afternoon in the village of Muima.  When she heard our truck coming, Chief Bernadette came out to the road to let us know that many of the women in my class were gone to a funeral in a neighboring village, so it would probably be best to reschedule. We agreed and set up a date two weeks from today.

On our last visit, Chief Bernadette's infant son, Obed, had malaria and was sick with a fever. So, today I asked her if his health had improved. She said it had not.  When we asked if she had taken him to the clinic, she said she had, but the Bimbi clinic, about 1 km from her village, didn't have any infant malaria medicine. 

Then, she walked on to another clinic, one much farther away, but they didn't have the medication either. So,she explained, the child has been sick with malaria for weeks. When I observed more closely, it was obvious that his skin was covered in rash, and his eyes looked weak, and even more seriously, he had not been growing. How tragic that the child was failing to thrive and could have died for lack of a medication that costs under $1.00 US. 

George and I caught each other's eye, and it was clear to both of us what we were supposed to do. "Would you like for us to take you and Obed to a private clinic?" Her eyes brightened as she said yes.

She quickly walked the short distance to her house to retrieve a bag of baby necessities, and soon we were on our way. Little Obed fretted some as the truck rocked and jolted down the road, but after the road smoothed a bit, Bernadette was able to nurse him, and  he was comforted enough to rest. 

I noticed that every few minutes a deep, rattling cough shook Bernadette, so I asked if she had any medical concerns for herself. She told us she was concerned about the cough. 

Although there were several people in the waiting room when we arrived,  the receptionist took Bernadette and the baby's information quickly and put them in the cue to see the doctor. Within 15 minutes or so, Bernadette was called to the examination room. In short order, we could hear little Obed crying in pain. As we learned later, he needed three shots to get him caught up on childhood immunizations. When they emerged from the exam room, Bernadette was holding two bulging bags of prescriptions, including the baby's malaria medications. 

When we returned Bernadette to her village,  many women were there to receive her and very happy for her safe return. Bernadette thanked us, and several women rushed to shake our hands and express their gratitude for our caring for their chief. 

When George paid the bill for all the medical care and  prescriptions, the  total was 3700 kwacha or $8.85 US for both of them. The goodwill we are now experiencing in Muima and other villages, however,  is priceless. We pray that God will use it to open many hearts to receive His kingdom.