Tapiwa's Struggle

Tapiwa’s Struggle

She lived with us here at the Nursery for just one day. The morning after her arrival we took her to the hospital. Because of diarrhea she was losing fluids and therefore, weight. At 3 lbs. 12 oz. she had little margin. In spite of antibiotics, a feeding tube, and IV’s, after a week in the hospital she lost her struggle for life. Tapiwa died last night.

Malawians are surrounded with death. Virtually every week someone on the 20 member Nursery staff or someone on our 5 member house staff misses work to attend a funeral. Two weeks ago the long anticipated church service to celebrate the arrival of our new pastor was postponed in deference to a funeral service for the session clerk’s wife.

One of the first Tumbuka phrases we learned was “Mwenda uli ku nyifwa?” “How was your trip to the funeral?” According to deeply imbedded cultural custom any and all family, friends, colleagues and relatives are expected to travel to the deceased’s home village so they can be buried where they were born. This can be very expensive and time consuming.

Last week I (Paul) drove 9 mourners back to Tapiwa’s home village to deliver her tiny body for burial. Since she was a daughter of the Nursery, we are also responsible for funeral arrangements. Weighing just 3 pounds, Tapiwa hardly took up any room in the cardboard box she travelled in. We sat in a circle on the cement floor of a small and barren family room. When the tiny blanket-wrapped body was removed from the box, I was surprised by the tears which rolled down my cheeks. After some Tumbuka greetings and prayers a blue plastic deck chair appeared out of nowhere for “Bwana.” I could no more have remained sitting on the floor than I could have refused to cry.

Sometimes we simply receive a baby too late. Often those who are sick don’t have even the food they need. Many times malaria, TB, and AIDS threaten the survival of these precious ones.

To be sure, death in Malawi is a common, pervasive part of life. Nevertheless, it is every bit as sad and devastating for those left behind. Death causes great hardship. It spawns many orphans. It wreaks havoc in families, in the workplace, and on the nation as a whole. But for Tapiwa, the struggle is over.

Tapiwa

We got the call last week but had no room in the Nursery for another baby. Yesterday we discharged Moses, so today Augustine, Anna & I went to pick up Tapiwa.

Tapiwa (pronounced Taweepa) was born 2 weeks ago. Her mother bled to death as a complication from a retained placenta. Her aunt fed Tapiwa raw cow’s milk from a cup to keep her alive.

With Augustine at the wheel, we drove one hour on a paved road and an additional 1 ½ hours on a dusty, rutted, unbelievably rough, dirt road to get to her village. While Anna interviewed the family (in Tumbuka) for information about Tapiwa’s birth, I was handed the baby.

The unbelievably tiny Tapiwa was wrapped in a piece of cloth. She had no clothing or diaper on, just the cloth. I took her to our Toyota Land Cruiser, laid her on the back seat, and started cleaning her with baby wipes before I dressed her. The sun was beating down and there was no breeze. It was really hot. I could feel the sweat running in rivulets down my back. Tapiwa barely cried as I washed and dressed her. This was the first diaper she had ever had on. A black string was wrapped around her left wrist “to protect her from worms”. I put her in a tiny shirt and wrapped her in a clean receiving blanket.

At least 40 children crowded around the vehicle watching me. A muzungu (white person/ghost) like me is still a novelty in northern Malawi. Two adult village women were also especially interested in watching. As my audience looked on, I poured hot water, then 3 scoops of formula powder, then cold water from our thermos jugs, into a baby bottle. The powder dissolved easily as I shook it. I put the nipple in Tapiwa’s mouth, but she wouldn’t suck. She just slept. No amount of prodding helped. No amount of undressing, jostling, or nudging made her feed. After 20 minutes the rest of the staff returned and we set out for home.

An hour back down the rutted road we stopped at a market to buy vegetables and I tried feeding Tapwipa again. This time she took 40 ml. of formula with a strong interest in it. Yes!! Back to sleep until we arrived home.

At the nursery, she weighed in at 3 lbs 12 oz. Tiny! But she looks like a survivor. Malawian babies have stamina and fortitude I wouldn’t have believed possible. Tapiwa means “gift”. We will do our best to care for this gift from God until she can return to her village strong and healthy, within a year or so.

The Ants

It was late at night and all the babies were asleep. Samuel started screaming, so his nanny went to check. She found an ant in the crib. Apparently it had snuck in under his mosquito net, so she flipped on the light to check things out. What she saw raised the hair on the back of her neck.

Ants! Ants on the floor, ants on the walls, and ants on the ceiling. Ants crawling everywhere. She put Samuel on her back and ran out to get help. As they turned on lights in the rest of the Nursery the staff discovered ants everywhere, in every room. Nannies ran around, each with a baby tied on their back, moving all the other babies into the main room. Augustine, the nursery administrative assistant, came from his apartment next door which was also infested with ants. Checking outside, he saw the ants were coming in waves, covering the ground. “This,” he said, “is very dangerous”.

Springing into action, the staff put kerosene into household spray bottles, and systematically sprayed around the edges of every room. This instantly kills the ants while the fumes make any ant still alive run for the exits. After the inside of the house was treated, the outside was sprayed all around the foundation to keep the approaching army from entering. The barrier worked! No more ants came in.

Meanwhile, the babies were safe in the large living room, as that area was cleared of ants first and all the windows and doors were opened to reduce the smell. The infants remained in the large room most of the night to keep them from breathing any fumes. By morning, the only signs of the heated battle were a few stray ant corpses and an exhausted staff.

We pray that this will never happen again (and hope the ants never find the way to our house—or yours). That our faithful staff knew exactly what to do is an incredible blessing. It’s humbling to realize how much we don’t know about living in this place. Thank God for His continued protection for the babies. Thank you for your continued prayers.

Hospital Trip

Yesterday, I drove 6 babies for check ups at Central Hospital. Anna (our head nurse) and a nanny went along.

Central Hospital is about 10 Km from the nursery. Since no one else is available to transport us, I am the driver as well as the matron. Driving in Malawi is a bit hairy. You keep left and pass right. The roads are narrow and potholed, with bicycles, pedestrians, and animals crowding the edge of the shoulders. The steering wheel is on the right, while shifting is done with the left hand and turn signals are on the right of the steering column.

We are 9 in the car—3 adults and six babies—so there is no room for car seats. The oldest one is 6 months. We put 2 babies in front with Anna and 4 babies in the back with the nanny. She holds one and puts 3 on the floor. The babies love the car because it is a rare treat. There is no crying – just interested staring off into the distance.

When we get to the hospital we each put a baby on our backs in a cloth zitinge and hold another in our arms. Then, armed with their immunization records and an enormous diaper bag, we head off to the clinic. We carry baby bottles, hot water, and boiled, treated, cold water in thermos jugs. This we mix with formula powder for feeding on the go.

There are literally hundreds of moms and babies waiting in the large, airy waiting area. Seeing us with 6 babies, the staff lets us jump the queue and herds us into a room for weighing and measuring. One baby gets hysterical and the nanny takes him out. That leaves Anna and me with 5. For a while, I have 3 all to myself. I keep one on my back and feed one in my arms, while watching the third on the boat-like baby scale so he wouldn't fall out. All this is going on while the nurse is weighing, measuring and looking up test results. It is wild.

For six babies, we have 4 HIV test results come back negative, one result is still out, and one baby is listed as dead. I assure the nurse he isn't dead because I happen to be giving him a bottle at that very moment. She smiles and agrees that he looks very much alive.

All in all it is a big morning. Four babies fall asleep on the way home, looking like little coffee beans all lined up in their blankets. I drive VERY carefully, fearing a sudden stop will splatter everyone all over the car. We make it OK and none are worse for the wear. I appreciate car seats more than ever now.

Light at the end of the tunnel.

Our “light at the end of the tunnel” is beginning to shine brighter every day. Finally, as we emerge from the dark days of Darlene’s health crisis, our fulltime focus has shifted to the 18 orphaned infants in the Crisis Nursery’s Care.

So little time, so many stories! Over the next week or so we will be using this blog to play catch up. We want to tell you about Moses who was abandoned in the rushes by the river and has now been placed in a loving foster home; about the day Darlene drove to the hospital with 8 infants piled in the car at once; and about how the death of baby Omega affected us all. So, stay tuned.

For today we simply want to say “thank you”! We are grateful to God and to all who have offered such faithful prayer support. We are grateful to the Langdons for posting all the updates to this blog. Every day we realize more and more what an amazing work they accomplished in their year as founding directors of the Nursery. We are thankful for the loving commitment and competent service of the faithful Malawian staff.

Take a good look at the picture above. Can you see the halo? This handsome, young, eligible Malawian is on our short list for sainthood. Augustine is the “Administrative Assistant.” This means he does all the work and the Director gets all the credit. (Sort of like Sir Edmund Hillary’s “climbing assistant” Tenseng Norgey.) For over a year now, Augustine has done all the administrative “heavy lifting.” He lives in an apartment attached to the Nursery is on call 24/7. After a full day’s work he goes to Mzuzu University in the evening to take classes in financial management.

Without Augustine, we would be at a total loss. Yesterday he drove with Paul 6 hours round trip to deliver baby Moses to his foster parents. Today he is driving with Darlene 4 hours round trip to pick up a new admittance which keeps our census at the maximum of 18 infants. So when you think of the orphans, and you think of us, please give thought to the ministry of the Malawian staff, please say a “hooray” for Augustine Harawa.