Reality Check

For months we heard little else on BBC than the global financial crisis. But all the while we lived under the illusion that it would not make a huge impact on our ministry with the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery. Perhaps we were living in a bubble. Maybe we have become so attached to our 18 little charges that we could not imagine this vital ministry faltering, even under the weight of collapsing international money markets. Living in this subsistence economy it is difficult to comprehend the enormity of change taking place back home.

No doubt it was inevitable. Sooner or later the global financial crisis was going to become a local budget crisis for those already in crisis—the orphaned/abandoned babies of Malawi. Here at the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery the new global reality has finally hit home. Now the crisis is ours as well.

A recent e-mail from Ministry of Hope (MoH) in the U.S. addressed some financial challenges that lie ahead. “The MoH finance committee met tonight to go over the end of year figures and the financial crisis in the U.S. is having its impact on MoH. Giving is way down and we are having to reduce our monthly allotment. … This is impacting the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery because we thought we had a 5 year commitment from one church and it appears that we do not. We found that out this past week. Thus, at this point, we will need to fund the Mzuzu Nursery from the reduced undesignated pot of money that Ministry of Hope receives every month and is shared." (Among two Crisis Nurseries and 5 orphan care centers).

As you can imagine this creates some formidable challenges. Options being talked about include an equal % salary reduction for all staff. Another suggestion is for MoH to consider illuminating staff positions through a process of “right sizing”. However, many staff members are supporting an unbelievable number of people on their already modest incomes. At best, this is going to be very, very difficult.

Desperate times call for compassionate measures.

We are convinced it is God who has called this Crisis Nursery into being, it is God who has called us to Mzuzu to help guide this vital ministry, and it is God who will see to it that these vulnerable babies are cared for.

“Though my father and mother abandon me, the Lord will take care of me.”
Psalm 27:10

To you who have supported these orphaned infants in the past, “may the Lord bless you.”

To you who will decide to continue your support for these little ones, “may the Lord keep you.”

To you who will increase your giving or initiate a gift in this crisis time, “may the Lord make His face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you.”

To you who through prayer and action continue to care for the least of these who are member’s of Christ’ family, “may the Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.”

Waiting List

“This is Social Welfare from Mzimba.” says the woman on the other end of the line, an undertone of desperation in her voice. “Please, please call me back.” (You see, everyone here relies on pre-paid phone service, and it is common for people to ask for a call back because they are running out of units.) Augustine (our Administrative Assistant) returns the call and the social worker says “We have an orphaned baby whom I have been caring for in my own home since her mother died giving birth last week. The father is unknown, probably a truck driver who will never know (or care) that he has a child. But soon I must be leaving for Blantyre and I don’t know what to do with the baby. Can you help me?”

That is why we are here, of course—to rescue infants in crisis. But we cannot take this baby. Right now we are caring for 17 babies, and our practical limit is 15. The cruel reality is that we cannot take in all the babies who are in crisis.

“Every time we have to turn a baby away I feel that we have failed.” sighs Augustine. Yes, that is how it feels.

This day’s second distress call comes from Rumphi. Two 2 week old twins have been left motherless. Can we help? The answer has not changed since this morning or since the call last week about a sole surviving triplet.

It’s a harsh reality. We cannot save all the babies in Northern Malawi. But we can save some. Granted, on days like this that is faint consolation. But, thank God, it is enough to banish despair. We cannot do everything, but we can do something. And, together with your support, we are.

Table Grace
Today Jesus melted in my mouth
like warm cotton candy.
Yet,
He left me feeling full.
Full—filled!
The body of Chris melted away
without a trace.
Except
for the fluid flowing down my face,
washing
away my fear.
Paul Heller

Color

Cold, snow, sleet, gray, cloudy and bitter. This is how I remember winter in the North Country. From now until April when flowers start to bud, it will be a black and white world.

But not here in Malawi. The hot African sun is beating down relentlessly. The rain comes daily. The flowers are so bright and colorful they almost make me forget that in other places it is gray.

Things here bloom in a big way. The poinsettia is 12 feet high. Geraniums are waist high. The calla lilies come in yellow as well as white. Jacaranda trees bloom a vivid purple for a month, and the Bougainvillea are orange as well as fuchsia. Everything is lush and green.

The birds look like something from an illustrated guide. They’re fabulous. Yesterday one collided with our window, stunning himself. He was unable to move for about 20 minutes, which gave us a good look at him. He was a Malachite Kingfisher, a spectacularly bright blue bird with a red crest. After a rest and he was able to stagger around a bit, and then he eventually flew off.

The earth is red, the women’s wraps are brightly patterned, and the banana trees have enormous green leaves. There is color everywhere, a feast for the eyes. In a land where it’s never winter, I remind myself that it is winter in other places, so I can appreciate the color that is here for the looking.

Wongani

It was a routine follow up visit. Wongani had been “home” in the bush for several months and it was time to check on his progress.

He had returned to the village as a healthy little 14 month old baby. But the Wongani who greeted us this day was a crying infant with skinny limbs, reddened hair, and empty eyes.

His 10 year old sister had been pulled from school by her father to care for the family, consisting of 5 other siblings and dad. Only a child herself, she cooked and cared for the entire family, including her older brother. Being the oldest girl, her father had decided this was her responsibility.

The “house” was of mud with a cement floor. No water or electricity came to this dwelling – just the hot African breeze. Water had to be carried from a tap in the center of the village. Wongani was carried on his sister’s back most of the time because he was getting too weak to walk. She fed him nsima (white maize flour porridge) once a day, with dirty water to drink. Starving is a painful and miserable process, and clearly, Wongani was starving.

On our return trip to the nursery it was decided that we had to take Wongoni back. He was only 15 months old, which means he was still young enough to avoid permanent damage from his period of deprivation. We had one crib open at the nursery. So we contacted Social Welfare and they agreed to let us readmit him. A few days later we went back to the village and brought Wongani “home” to the Nursery. Dad was nowhere to be found on either visit.

Wongani has gained 5 pounds since he came back to us. That’s a lot for a 20 month old. He’s thriving. He smiles, he laughs, he plays- especially “peek a boo”. He loves to eat. And his smile would crack the hardest heart.

However, he has stopped speaking. No words come out now, whereas when he was discharged, he had been developing language. We trust speech will come back with time, but admit we are worried.

Wongani has only 4 more months to remain here with us. At age 2, children must be placed elsewhere. The father will not agree to have him fostered but is more than willing to have him sent to an orphanage. Therefore, we have contacted a nearby orphanage, Rafiki, (www.rafiki-foundation.org) and are waiting to see if they will accept him. Rafiki’s admission policy usually requires that neither parent be alive, because sometimes after a few years, the parent will change his mind and want the child back. It can be heartbreaking.


So we’re working on finding Wongani a home. An important part of that effort is prayer work. That’s where you come in. Please pray that God will open a bright path to the future for this healthy, happy 20 month old named Wongani

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Christmas Eve dawns dim and misty. We go to the nursery and work until noon, then celebrate with the staff Christmas party. Rice, “beef”, boiled rape leaves, chips (fried potatoes), plus ice cream and cookies with a Coke. The staff loves it!! We give them each a 5 lb bag of rice. There is lots of singing and dancing. The babies love the commotion. Paul leaves early to put in an appearance at the church Christmas Eve service—a 4 hour marathon of choirs singing and elders preaching.

I am so looking forward to the arrival of Bob Louer, a PCUSA missionary who was in our orientation group and who is now stationed in Zambia (next door). He should arrive around 4 pm. At 5:45 I walk home from the party (still no Bob) and Paul will follow in the car when he finishes up.

Uh Oh! The door is locked with the top lock (the one that doesn’t work)?! So no matter how much I fiddle with the bottom lock, I can’t get in. My sister calls from NJ while I am fussing with the lock, so I give up and talk to her for about 20 minutes. As darkness falls on the African landscape, I am starting to relax.

Suddenly, the gate opens and Paul roars in followed by the nursery truck with the Anna the nurse, Veronica the supervisor, Augustine the administrative assistant and Hilda, a 14 month old who is having a grand mal seizure. “We couldn’t get you on the phone” Anna says. “Get in”. I tell my sister goodbye and jump into the truck. As we pull away I shout to Paul that we are locked out.

Hilda has a raging fever and is unresponsive. I put my hand on her burning head and pray hard. “Dear God, please save her”. It takes 15 agonizing minutes to get to Central Hospital. She doesn’t seize any more but she’s really hot. The last time something like this happened, the baby died, so Anna wants us all there, just in case.

The hospital is wild. Hilda is examined in the hall, right away, by the clinical officer on duty. He does a quick assessment and then we take Hilda to the lab for blood tests. Malaria! We go to a treatment room, and I wrap her up and restrain her as they put an IV in her tiny hand. They shoot in an antibiotic and start a quinine drip.

Next we go to the pediatric ward which is over- full. Parents and children are everywhere – on the beds, on the floor and in the hall. There is no bed for Hilda until a parent volunteers to vacate the one she is using (caretakers must stay with patients at all times). We pick our way over the bowls of food, piles of blankets and groups of children as we make our way to Hilda’s bed. It has no side rails and is high. Veronica will stay with her until we bring a caregiver from the nursery. The caregiver will prepare food and feed and bathe Hilda during her stay. We will bring food daily from the Nursery as each nanny works 12 hours. Nothing is provided in the hospital.

I get to go home now. Augustine will take the nanny and supplies back to the hospital and pick up Veronica. I offer up another prayer for Hilda as I ascend our driveway.

Meanwhile, Paul has gone to our cook’s house and procured our top lock key, which he keeps “just in case”. Smart man. As I waltz in, the power is on, the Christmas tree lights are twinkling, and Christmas music is playing. We have a peanut butter sandwich with tea and try to call Bob. It is 8:45 pm.

An hour later Bob texts us (the phone network is down). “I’m here” the text says. So we go downtown and pick him up. How good to see him and hear his New Jersey accent!!! He gets in and tells us there are 2 young women who are being harassed by cab drivers. We invite them into the van. They are medical students from England. At 10 pm it wouldn’t be safe for them to continue their journey. We take them to a rest house where the guard comes out in a knit hat carrying a bow and arrow!! “Closed” he says. We try another lodge and Paul negotiates for a room. They’re in!

At home, I break out the home made chocolate chip cookies and Bob’s eyes light up. WOW! He says. I’ve been saving American food for Christmas and he loves it.

It’s raining and 75 degrees. Crickets are chirping and the night bugs are trilling. Is it really Christmas Eve? But here we are in Malawi, our 2 foot tree illuminated with 19 tiny white lights and the Christmas music playing.

Christmas morning finds Hilda’s temperature down and she is able to take a bottle. Our prayers are being answered.

Church is three hours on Christmas day, with Paul preaching one of the two sermons. The highlight is the Sunday School Christmas pageant. Mary and Joseph even had stars in the heavens in the form of the littlest participants. They sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” as they march around the crèche and out the door. It was great!

Holidays are hard here, so far from the family and friends we love. But we cling to each other and fellow missionaries that are also serving Christ here in Malawi. And God sustains us.

Darlene and Paul