A Village Discharge

Discharging one of our little “charges” back to the village is one of the most hopeful and heartbreaking parts of our mission. Most of our babies, like most Malawians, will eventually (literally) have a hard row (of maize) to hoe.

A VILLAGE DISCHARGE

How to walk among wild places?

TAKE

only pictures

LEAVE

only footprints.

How to walk among the poor?

TAKING

(even pictures)

seems questionable.

LEAVING

(only footprints)

seems miserly.

YET WE TAKE

gratitude and hospitality,

(perhaps even a chicken or a bag of ground nuts or a bowl of nsima)

and pictures, of course.

WE LEAVE

a small bundle of hope

and

another mouth to feed. 
                                                    
                                              Paul Heller 

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.

Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” Proverbs 31:8 & 9.

My Poor Mommy

 I’m new here. Just arrived a couple of days ago. I was born without a name but at the hospital they called me Moses. Here at the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery there is already a baby Moses, so they call me Aaron.

When I arrived at the Nursery they gave me a private room with my very own crib and a personal nanny who looks after my every need. They say that my private room is meant to protect the other kids from any germs or rogue viruses that I might be bringing with me from the village. By next week they will let me move in with the big kids.

Right now all the other babies here are orphans. That means their mother died shortly after they were born. I feel sad for them. I’m glad my mommy didn’t die.

The only reason I’m here is because my mommy threw me away. My mommy already had a baby and I guess she decided she didn’t need me. My big sister is only 2O months old and when I was born the other women in the village started making fun of my mommy. They said she was stupid for having two babies so close together. My mommy didn’t like it when they made fun of her so she dumped me in a graveyard near our village.

When she dropped me I fell on my arm and it hurt so bad that I thought it was broken. I started to cry. Then the ants found me and started crawling all over me,  biting as they went. Fortunately someone heard me crying. They found me lying on the ground naked, picked me up, and took me to the hospital. The nice people at the hospital x-rayed my arm and decided it wasn’t broken, which is good. But I still cannot use that arm which is bad.

The hospital called Social Welfare and Social Welfare called the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery. It was the Nursery’s third call in one morning from babies in need of crisis care. Fortunately, there were two empty cribs and they reserved one for me. As I settle in here, my arm doesn’t hurt so much and my ant bites are clearing up. They give me warm baths and put lotion on my bites. There is plenty of warm milk whenever I want it. I’m no longer crying. I am a happy baby. .

But now the people in our village are making fun of my mommy because she threw me away. My poor mommy. I don’t think she knows what to do. She says that she wants me to come back. But some people think that is a bad idea. The police and Social Welfare workers aren’t sure what to do.

As I wait for their decision I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I like the way they care for me here at the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery.

The Winds of Change

 In the midst of selling all our furniture, re configuring the relationship between Mzuzu Crisis Nursery and Ministry of Hope (our parent organization in Lilongwe), finding a new home for our 120 lb dog, dealing with the challenges of rainy season, and keeping an eye on our babies, we keep an ear on the rest of the world by listening to BBC.

This morning BBC's Network Africa reported on late breaking news from Malawi. Justice and Constitutional Affairs Minister George Chaponda announced that Malawi will soon criminalize breaking wind in public. The rationale? Call it a top to bottom effort to “preserve public decency”. The bill will be discussed in Parliament this week. (An urgent topic in a country that survives on eggs, cabbage and beans.) Breaking wind, intentional or not, will apparently be seen as a crime punishable by ????  Perhaps, before turning 60, we would have found this prospect less alarming. But now the wind blows where and when it wills and we are nervous about the consequences. Our diet has no bearing on the situation, nor does our health status. Nope. "Better in than out" may be the rule of the day but too often we find that our intestinal system acts as a kingdom unto itself.

Our personal anxiety aside, The question is...how will this new law be enforced? Will police now be on the beat with fart sniffing dogs? How will an infraction even be noticed on minibuses where the olfactory and auditory senses are already overloaded? What about those who have perfected the fine art of SBD's ? (silent but deadly). Will there be degrees of culpability like 1st degree, 2nd degree, 3rd degree farting with intent to foul the air? Will people be able to carry a doctor's excuse to indicate they are suffering from chronic “crummies in tummies? Critics of the proposed ban fear it could lead to potential miscarriage of justice as guilty parties try to pass on the blame. Who knows?

The international press has had a field day. Various papers in Great Britain published stories that Malawi was working on a law to punish people who fart around. The Register exclaimed "Malawi Poised to Outlaw Farting" with a subtitle "Clampdown on undisciplined bowels".  UK's Mirror had the headline “Breaking Wind is to Become a Crime in Malawi” and added “It is already causing a stink.” Local papers have responded with credulity and embarrassment.

But think about it. How many times have you been in public, caught a whiff of foul smelling emissions, and said to yourself, “There oughta be a law!” As one unapologetic official pointed out there already is a law in several places, including Singapore, against “fouling the air” by passing gas in public.

So this is a warning to all those planning to travel to the Warm “Heart” of Africa.
NO MORE FARTING AROUND IN MALAWI!!

Faithfulness of Our Fathers

 Traditional gender roles are still very entrenched in Malawi. Take parenting for example. A father's sole responsibility appears to be that of impregnating the mother. After making his obligatory donation to the cause, the man feels free to go.

An orphan in Malawi is a child whose mother has died or who has been abandoned. Having a father does not enter into the picture. All of the babies being cared for at the nursery currently have healthy young fathers. Many of these fathers are either useless or could care less. Many, but not all.

Chisomo

Chisomo's parents moved to the area so his father could work on a tobacco plantation. When the manager discovered that Chisomo's mother was pregnant, his father was fired so the owner wouldn't have to pay any medical bills. Chisomo's mother died shortly after giving birth (2 months early) at Rhumpi District Hospital. Dad was left alone with tiny baby Chisomo who weighed 2 lbs 6 oz. The hospital provided formula but no care. Yet Chisoms needed special care. So his dad stayed right there for more than a month, feeding him every 2 hours from a tiny cup. Since he was so small, dad also provided Kangaroo Care, wearing the baby on his bare chest to help with temperature regulation and breathing. During that time Chisomo gained almost 3 pounds! A true miracle. We then admitted him to the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery as we had acquired an opening. We kept him for 7 weeks but dad was unable to visit because he had moved to Lilongwe to find work.  So we transferred Chisomo to the Lilongwe Crisis Nursery last week. He weighed 10 lbs. 6 oz., and was a smiling, happy baby. Dad, also happy, now visits his son almost every day.

Jerrine and Darlene

Our twins, Jerrine and Darlene come from a village about 50 miles north of Mzuzu. Once a month their father visits them on our regular visiting day. This takes bus money. Last month there was no money for the trip but dad showed up anyway. He had left at 2:30 am and ridden his bicycle for 5 hours (some on dirt roads) to get to Mzuzu so he could visit his girls. And it's rainy season (mud, washouts and wet). He then had to pedal all the way back. This is a caring and devoted dad.

Marmen and Mosesn

Moses and Marmen are also twins. Their father is a pastor in a village along the lakeshore. He arrived at the nursery unannounced one day, babies in tow. His wife had died a few days earlier after giving birth. It was heartbreaking to send them away, but we must work through social welfare to avoid chaos and to avoid being shut down by the government. We were able to discharge 2 babies the next week and take the twins in. Not only has their father been a regular visitor, he has presented the Nursery with two of his paintings picturing the plight of women at the hands of useless men who could care less. This man is a gem.

Traditional gender roles in Malawi are changing. Drive around Mzuzu today and you will occasionally see fathers carrying babies, fathers walking with their children - fathers sharing the joys and burdens of parenthood. The faithfulness of all these fathers is, to us, a sign of hope. One day, here in Malawi, a motherless child may not automatically be labeled an orphan.