Rescued From the Pit

“I went down to the land whose bars closed upon me forever; yet you brought me up from the pit, O Lord my God.” Jonah 2:6

A woman using the new pit toilet hears a baby crying. It sounds near. Can it be? The crying is coming from the men’s side.!! She looks down but can see nothing because of the darkness and depth. She runs to get the village headman.

As the crying persisted the villagers tore down the brick walls of the latrine and put a ladder down the hole. A tiny baby was discovered there at the bottom of the non functioning pit latrine – 10 feet down. Dumped by her mother, she was left to die. Amazingly, she survived her 10 foot drop and was taken to Central Hospital for observation. The nurses named her Chindikani, which means praise to God (for saving her from the pit). No one knew where she came from or if she had any family. Social Welfare called the crisis nursery – there was no other place to turn. Our staff went to rescue her and she is now snug in her new home. Babies like this have nowhere else to go. Abandoned, or in a situation where care cannot be given, they would die without the crisis nursery intervention.

Chindikani is a beautiful baby who eats well and sleeps even better. Calm and easy going, it is hard to imagine someone throwing her away. With loving care and lots of feeding she is now doing very well. Meanwhile, her mother has been caught by the police and is being charged with attempted murder. She is 18 years old, and has another child who is about 3. The father is not known. Because she has no family,(the mother will not be allowed to keep her) Chidikani will probably be put up for fostering and later, adoption.

Chindikani

A plea from the pit.
A bleat from the black.
A cry from the crap hole.

Life calling to life.

Listen with your life.
Hear with your heart.
Answer with your arms.

Life answering life.

Paul Heller

Vwaza Marsh

"I had only heard my grandmother talk of them. Now I have seen them with my own eyes.”

“I was up for many hours telling my daughter about what I have seen”.

“I thought this was going to be a waste of money and that you should have just given us some kwacha to shop at the market. But now I know that I was wrong.”

Last week the entire Nursery staff went on “safari” to a nearby wildlife refuge (Vwaza Marsh). For most of them this was the trip of their lifetime!

We hired a bus which left the Nursery at 8 am with 17 full time employees in tow. Packed with a picnic lunch and soda, excitement was high. At the end of the day, no one was disappointed. The 1 ½ hour drive over rough roads ended in a real treat for the eyes and the spirit.

Elephant were everywhere—walking across the road, eating tree branches, and caring for their babies. We were surrounded.

And the hippos! Hippos submerging themselves in the marsh doing their mysterious hippo things, making their haunting hippo grunts.

With birds calling from the trees and baboons bouncing through the bush, the feeling of really being out in the wild was thrilling.



What were the nanny’s impressions? What of elephant and hippos? What are they like?

“They are VERY big!” said one nanny. “They eat a lot.” said another, as she observed the giant pachyderm ripping a tree apart and stuffing it in his mouth. Everyone was amazed that hippos actually can and do come out of the water.

The Nursery staff was incredibly grateful for this opportunity. They got to see what we all take for granted as part of Africa but what they had never had an opportunity to observe for themselves. One nanny summed it all up. “If people had not taken care of these animals (in the wildlife preserve) they would not have been there for us to see”.

Worship

“What time?”
“6 o’clock.”
“Six a.m.?”
Yes! Believe it or not Sunday school at many churches runs from 6:00 to 8:00 a.m. Worship begins about 8:00.

It’s 7:30 on a typical Sunday morning at St. Andrews Presbyterian Church in Mzuzu. The pastor, preacher, session clerk and elders are gathering in the vestry room to plan for the morning service. The meeting is run by the vestry chairperson. “What are today’s scripture readings? What hymns will we sing? Who will be worship leader? Who will do the intercessory prayer? The announcements? The Old Testament reading? The New Testament Reading? The sermon? The benediction? How many choirs are singing? Is there a children’s time?” Shortly after 8:00am the elders and worship participants are filing out of the vestry into the sanctuary and worship begins.

The congregation (the first 100 or so souls to arrive—mostly members of the various choirs) starts worship by singing (a capella) the first verse of Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty. The invocation is followed by a hymn with 7 verses and an opening prayer.

Now it is children’s time. Dozens of bright young girls and boys gather in a gaggle in front of the chancel to hear a Bible story. Today it is about the beheading of John the Baptist. Once the story is told there is usually an oral test to see who has been listening. “What was the name of Herod’s daughter?” Things like that. Then the children are asked for a volunteer to close in prayer. There is never a lack of hands going up. Some repeat the Lord’s prayer while others will pray impromptu in a way that warms the heart.

By now it is about 8:20 and the pews are beginning to fill in. There is an anthem, a solo, the Old Testament Reading, another anthem, the New Testament Reading, and the Apostles Creed.

It is time for Intimations (announcements). This will take from 10 to 35 minutes and includes upcoming meetings, the amount of last week’s offering, prayer concerns, wedding announcements, welcoming visitors, and occasional minutes for mission.

Next a different choir will sing an anthem followed by prayers of intercession and a congregational hymn.

It is now about 9:15 and time for the sermon to begin. The last stragglers are filing in and the church is now full to its capacity of well over 500 worshippers. (On Easter it was Paul’s privilege to preach and serve communion to 1,030 people.) A half hour later the sermon has usually concluded leading to a hymn and the offering.

Two or three anthems are sung during the offering while every single worshipper files forward in an act of commitment to place their offering in the basket. The total offering usually amounts to some $300 to $500 a week.

It is shortly after 10:00 and time for the benediction so the Tumbuka service can begin. The elders recess to the vestry room where a closing prayer is offered and preparations for the next service are finalized.

(pictured is worship at Mchengatuba)


“The Church”

Hard to live with her,
but where would I go without her?
She is full of fluff and arrogance,
irrelevance and deceit,
injustice and hypocrisy.
Yet within her
hope runs deep,
meaning is magnified
justice is proclaimed,
truth is glimpsed,
and true LOVE is tasted.
Though I hate to love the Church,
I do!

Paul Heller

Private Life

“I hate private life” says the sign. Privacy is not a Malawian value. In fact when you ask a Malawian “How are you?” more often than not they will respond “WE are fine.” Walking down the road in quiet conversation you are likely to be interrupted by a curious passerby anxious to join in.

Virtually no Malawians live alone. In fact if you do live alone you are probably either to be pitied or to be feared. Most Malawi houses have at least 5 to 15 people living in them. Growing up in Malawi you will rarely eat alone, sleep alone, or be alone. And there is no such thing as “private arrangements” at the time of death. Funerals are huge! The entire village is obligated to show up for a service, as well as friends and colleagues from far and wide. The cost in travel and lost wages is enormous. When it comes to the actual interment (in western culture reserved “for family and close friends”) absolutely everyone shows up at the grave.

Speaking as an introvert, who has built a hermitage for his own sanity in the U.S., this drives me CRAZY! Sometimes I simply have to run away. There is no place to hide even if you get sick, because a gaggle of well wishers will be sure to line up at your door. Heaven help me if I ever need to be hospitalized. My private pain will be on view to 15 or 20 other ward patients, all with at least one family member in attendance. (Note picture of hospital ward) As a result the entire culture is slow to prosper.
In some ways it seems to me that the Malawian emphasis in communal culture is to blame for their oppressive poverty. Envy, jealousy, and communal pressures keep individual ambitions in check. As a result the entire culture is sow to prosper.

However, as we have seen so graphically in recent months, “individual ambitions” run amok can be even more destructive on a global level. The Malawians are certainly innocent of contributing to the global financial crisis. What’s more, within the bounds of family, tribe, or ‘important visitors’, Malawian generosity knows no bounds. Your neighbor or your family is your only “safety net.”

I am a product of rugged individualism that dominates my native culture. Today, in the U.S.A., many families fail to eat together or even be together. So, I confess my grudging admiration for my Malawian brothers & sisters in Christ. There something comforting, something even Gospel-like in knowing that as a Malawian you literally “never walk alone.”