Suffer The Little Children

New Crisis Nursery Blog

2011-09-07T21:22:00.000+02:00

There is a new blog for the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery that will be updated by the staff at the nursery. Since the nursery is being run by Malawians we felt it was time to turn over the updates to them. The easiest thing to do was create a blog just for them. While we, the Langdons, were in Mzuzu, Matthew created a new blog for Joyce (the director) and Augustine (administrative assistant) to have access to.
Here is the link to their blog: http://mohmcn.blogspot.com/
They continue to need your prayers and financial support. They are doing a fabulous job but we need to help in anyway we can.
The Langdons

The Nursery

2011-06-23T11:54:00.000+02:00

We have been away from the nursery for 4 years. We left in September 2007 and the staff ran the nursery until the Hellers arrived in August 2008. Paul and Darlene left in March 2011 and the staff along with a new Malawian director have been running the nursery since then.
We have been amazed at this place since we have arrived. The staff has been good stewards of what has been entrusted to them. The nursery is housed in our old home here and we left all our furnishings and all the other supplies that we purchased to run the nursery. Much has been purchased and added but there are many things that are still here from what we bought. We left a boom box and some CD's and never assumed it would still be here and working but it is. Much of the pots and utensils are still here. To some of you that may not seem like much, but it is huge here in Malawi. Things have a way of walking off here. The staff here is truly amazing.
For those who have supported the nursery I can tell you that your support has been used wisely. If you haven't supported the nursery I would suggest that you should as you can trust the staff to use it as wise stewards.

The First Two Babies

2011-06-20T14:18:00.000+02:00

After opening the nursery in 2006, our first baby was Mphatso and the second was Bridget. We are now in Malawi and we visited Mphatso and his adoptive parents. He was quite shy and ignored us but did play with Bridget and Alina. It was so wonderful to see him and the relationship he has with his parents. These two beautiful children just reinforce the need for these nurseries. Two children that would have died but now have families and an opportunity to live and hopefully someday serve the Lord who saved them.

Where in the World Are the Hellers?

2011-06-03T00:18:00.000+02:00

Where are the Hellers? We have not posted a blog for a few months now and are feeling guilty. Our 3 year term as Presbyterian Church USA mission co-workers officially ends July 7th. The last 3 months of our time is being spent in the US speaking at different churches about Presbyterian Church USA World Mission and our involvement at the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery. So we have been running all over the country much to the detriment of our blog site.

Arriving back in the States on April 2 we have had joyous reunions with our children and grandchildren. The latest little Heller (Amina),who arrived on March 11, has stolen our hearts. What sheer joy!! We are also savoring the fabulous variety of food available in the U.S., the drinkable tap water, the dependable power supply, the paved roads, etc. “Gee it’s good to be back home again.”

Thankfully, life at the nursery continues. Our capable and competent staff is faithfully carrying on the Nursery mission. Joyce Nyasulu (our Howard University trained Nurse) has taken on the responsibility of Director, while Augustine Harawa (our dedicated/honest-as-the-day-is-long Administrator) continues to oversee the budget and other administrative details. We could not be more confident and proud of their work.

Nevertheless, the Malawian staff still needs our help (and yours). Hopefully our speaking engagements will be a big part of the Nursery's financial future. We are spreading the word that the Nursery needs ongoing funding to continue its mission. For now,the Presbytery of Northern NY (see address at right)is where to send donations if you are inclined to do so.

We have grown very attached to the staff and babies at the Nursery. Life is never easy and always a challenge. Malawi seems to have more than its share of such challenges. But our faithful staff forges ahead in spite of sometimes seemingly insurmountable problems. They are an inspiration.

So we hold up our Malawi friends as an example to follow in our life here. Keep going, follow God, and be thankful.

(P.S. While you may hear from us again, note that the Langdons, who started the nursery, have added a few blogs and we trust that Augustine will continue to keep us all posted.)

Mphatso

2011-04-30T04:09:00.005+02:00

Mphatso was our first baby at the nursery in 2006. He was a sick 5 month old baby whose mother had died. Mphatso was almost like one of our family as Sarah had unofficially adopted him and took care of him a lot.

Shortly after we returned to the states his father allowed for him to be fostered by a German couple that lived in Malawi. We all hoped that someday he would be adopted by them as his family could not care for him.

I had been unable to find out what had really happened as the nursery lost contact with the family. Last month after we decided to return to Malawi, I emailed his foster family. They happily informed me that he was adopted in 2009 and was now a lively 5 yr. old boy who spoke perfect English and pretty good German. It brought tears to our eyes to think that he was a happy, healthy and very much loved little boy.

Here is a picture that his father sent to us:

Isn't he a cutie? God is so good!

Hello Again

2011-04-29T20:44:00.002+02:00

Now that the Heller's are no longer running the nursery and the current staff doesn't have easy access to the internet I (Lisa Langdon) would like to continue updating the blog for the nursery.

Our family started the nursery and this blog in 2006 and we want those who have visited this blog to continue to pray and if so led, financially support the nursery.

Our family is returning to Malawi in June for 8 weeks so we will try keep everyone updated on how things are going when we get there.

I will also post some updates about Bridget and Mphatso who were our first two babies and our now in their forever homes. As we are preparing to return to Malawi, I will also post some of the process that we are going through in returning. We are hoping to have our own family blog but at this time life is too crazy and I don't have time.

Lisa

A Village Discharge

2011-02-26T14:46:00.003+02:00

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

2011-02-11T15:00:00.000+02:00

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

2011-02-09T14:39:00.000+02:00

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

2011-02-03T12:52:00.001+02:00

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.

Snake !

2011-01-20T11:25:00.000+02:00

It's different here in Malawi. Instead of oak and maple trees, we have jacaranda and acacia. Instead of robins and bluejays we have mouse birds and kingfishers. Monkeys, not squirrels, steal the corn from our garden and if there is a snake in the garden, chances are it's not harmless.

Factoid: 90% of the snakes found in Africa are poisonous.

We have seen snakes on the road and snakes on the path. Friends have reported snakes dropping from trees in their yard and even a snake dropping from a ceiling rafter into the bedroom. But we never, ever spotted one of these venomous vermin in OUR yard.....

until last night.

True, we had a small snake in the house at Christmas time, and another on the porch last week. Paul removed their heads with a big kitchen knife just to be safe. But they were not poisonous.

Last night was different.

About 8 pm we were sitting in the living room when the guard rapped on the gate with his keys. This usually means he wants tea leaves, or T.P., or some other something of little consequence. I sighed. “What now?” But when Paul went to the door he immediately called to me. “You gotta see this!”

There, dangling from the end of a long branch held by our guard, was a 2 foot long, deadly snake. The guard had killed it with a brick as it was making it's way down the driveway. OUR driveway. Towards OUR house. Just seeing the limp corpse gave me the heebee geebees!

Rainy season saturates the earth so snakes can't go into their holes like they usually do. The result is they are more apt to be out and about, especially at night. They hide in grass and bushes, hang from trees and generally terrorize the psyche of the children of Eve. I try not to think about it.

This morning, when our gardener talked to the night guards, he got thoroughly spooked and nearly turned white. As we left for work he was energetically cutting all the bushes and trimming all the trees near the snake's site of death. The last time he got this energetic was when the guards next door killed three snakes (count 'em—3 big ones) in one night.

At our home here in Malawi we go to great lengths to keep out intruders. There are bars on all the windows and doors. Our yard is completely fenced-in with a locked gate. An Emergency Response Service is prepared to send a crack team of professionals within 15 minutes of being summoned. And we have 2 guards on duty every night.

But none of these precautions are guaranteed to stop a snake in the grass.

God bless our guards.

And our gardener. We will return to our freshly trimmed yard and hope we don't have a repeat of last night's near security breach.

Short Timers

2011-01-11T13:20:00.001+02:00

OK, we admit it. We have been slacking off lately. Hiding out. Perfecting avoidance.

Truth is, we are suffering from short-timer syndrome. Our flight home leaves Malawi in 10 weeks and counting.

“Who is going to replace you?”

This is our most FAQ (frequently asked question). Our unflinchingly confident reply is: “The Malawian staff.” It is both humbling and comforting to know that the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery is prepared to do quite well without us, thank you very much.

Who are these faithful Malawian professionals?

Augustine Harawa has been the Administrative Assistant and financial secretary almost since the founding of the Nursery in 2006. He has a Advanced Certificate in Business Management from Mzuzu University. More importantly, his honesty and integrity are above reproach. In fact he keeps us honest when we submit a voucher for reimbursement. His motto is: “No receipt, no reimbursement.” Augustine married lovely Tawonga on December 26, 2009 and their daughter Olivia Sandra arrived on November 28, 2010. He is a true gentle-man who speaks softly and carries a big smile. We sometimes refer to him as St. Augustine.

Joyce Nyasulu became our Nurse in February, 2010. Joyce came to us with many years of experience working for other NGOs (non-governmental organizations). She obtained a BSc degree in nursing from Howard University in Washington, D.C. as well as numerous diplomas and certifications in Malawi, including nurse-midwife. Her husband, Johanne teaches in the Physics Department at Mzuzu University and they have 4 grown children. We hope that she will be willing to function as Nurser/Director for the Nursery.

The plan is to create a local “oversight committee” so that Joyce and Augustine will have a supportive structure right here in Mzuzu. This group will likely consist of 3 Malawians and 2 Ex-pats. Part of the plan is to create a separate Mzuzu Crisis Nursery account in the States to facilitate direct donations. All this should become more clear in the months ahead. We'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, we try to stay focused. Above all we try to enjoy and give thanks for this privilege of living and working in Africa on behalf of God's most vulnerable little ones.

The Christmas Party

2010-12-08T14:12:00.001+02:00

It's the Advent season and time for the annual Christmas Party! But what kind of party does one have in a very poor country? How does one celebrate?

The first thing the staff wants for Christmas is a cash bonus. This is not optional – it is expected. We talked of giving the bonus early this year because last year we were robbed on Christmas night. The thieves obviously knew that we would have some money on hand here at the nursery. So now, being the quick learners that we are, we keep no money on the premises.

Nsima

We suggested that the bonuses be handed out at our monthly staff meeting, three weeks before Christmas. However, the other members of the management team nixed this idea. They assured us that the money would be spent long before Christmas arrived , thereby leaving staff members with nothing to fund their family Christmas Day feast. That would be disastrous. So we will give bonuses out later in the month but the date will be a surprise.

The main topic of discussion for the party itself was “What to eat”. I took a small (but to my mind statistically significant) poll asking several Malawians what special foods they eat at Christmas. Most shrugged and said “We just have a big meal”. “Big” meaning not different food but a lot of the same food. Quantity matters. Even our management team stressed the importance of “A LOT of food”. We're talking more than you can imagine any one person could eat. A gigantic, colossal, “trentrocious” amount!

Back to the topic of “What to Eat”. A goat was ruled out as too expensive. Ham? No way! We haven't seen a ham in three years. Chicken won the day. But at the Nursery, even chicken is special and not on our usual menu. Rice and nsima, served with fried rape, tomatoes and onions, will also be served. These will certainly be nothing special except they will be prepared in enormous quantities.

So the staff will stuff themselves on the same stuff. Add Coke & Fanta and store bought cookies. And there you have it!!!

Of course, more than the food we will be feasting on, is the fellowship—celebrating the Good News of God with us.

Let the party begin !

Will the Real Jerrine Please Sit Up ?

2010-12-01T13:37:00.000+02:00

Last week's blog features the gratifying growth progress of Jerrine Gondwe.
Or so we thought.
When we picked up baby Jerrine she was not alone. She was one of twins who we named Darlene and Jerrine (like me and my twinnie). Honest, these names were picked at the suggestion of the village headman and the babies' father. Well, their father came to visit the Nursery two weeks later and announced that he had told us the wrong birth order. Turns out that Darlene was really Jerrine and Jerrine was really Darlene. This caused no small amount of confusion, but we changed everything and tried to adjust. I mean we changed everything. Everything, that is, except all the tags on my early pictures. Darlene was Jerrine and Jerrine was Darlene on the pictures taken the first 2 weeks they were here. But then Jerrine was Jerrine and Darlene was Darlene on pictures taken after that time.

Jerrine on left, Darlene on right

SO when I did the blog, I put the original Darlene (now known as Jerrine) as the picture labeled number 1 and the original Jerrine (now known as Darlene) as the picture labeled number 2. So the picture labeled number 2 is really the current Darlene. Yikes! It should have been the current Jerrine. Got it?

As these twins grow their weight is becoming more and more alike. This is not unusual here in the nursery. In the village, the twin with the least amount of energy usually gets fed a lot less. This is because it takes more time to feed her and she is labeled as "lazy". Oh, this one is "the lazy one" they will say. Often the "lazy" one does not survive. But here at the nursery each twin gets personal care and time is taken with slow feeders. So they gain weight and eventually catch up to their more energetic sibling. Jerrine (was Darlene ) is now catching up to Darlene (was Jerrine).

Here is a picture of Darlene and Jerrine taken yesterday. I think Jerrine is catching up quite nicely. And she didn't even know she was behind!

P.S. Yesterday, an unnanounced picture change took place on last weeks's blog. Now Jerrine is Jerrine in both photos.

Just Two Months

2010-11-22T14:45:00.005+02:00

Remember the song “What a Difference a Day Makes”? What I remember is this. “What a difference a day makes, twenty four little hours. With the sun and the flowers, where there used to be rain.”

Remember Darlene and Jerrine, the twin babies we rescued back in September? (Sept. 9 blog) What I remember most about baby Darlene (unlike her better nourished sister) is the ribs protruding through her sagging skin.

Well take a look a Darlene now. She has lived at the Nursery for just 2 months. And now we are singing: “What a difference two months make, 61 little days. With the gurgles of praise, where there used to be pain.”

Two months is not two days. Rejuvenation is not resurrection. But just as God raised Christ from the dead on the third day, so God has breathed new life into Darlene in this second month.

This is why we are here. This is why; in spite of our doubts, in spite of our questions, and in spite of the hardships that may lie ahead for baby Darlene; this gift of new life is why the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery exists.

Upon admission (at 3 & 1/2 weeks old) baby Darlene weighed just 4.6 pounds.

Now she weighs 10.3 pounds.

Upon admission she drank just 1.5 oz of formula every 2 hours.

Now she drinks 6 oz. of formula every 3 hours.

Upon admission she looked like a poster child for famine relief.

Now she looks like a poster child for good nutrition.

YES!

Through God’s amazing grace, this is what we to do here at the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery—practice resurrection.

Eunice is Gone

2010-11-17T15:03:00.002+02:00

There is a big empty place in the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery today.

At nap time, walking past her room, I automatically peek into her crib. But it is empty, of course. Still, I keep expecting to see her toddle down the hallway to visit my office with her smile and a hug. She was the ring leader of the toddler gang who helps keep things lively around here. And she was so proud of her new shoes. Shoes made for walking. Shoes she wore when she walked out of the Nursery and into the truck which took her back to her home village.

Eunice had been a special presence at the Nursery over the last 16 months. Her mother died a few weeks after childbirth. Her father, barely capable of caring for himself, essentially dumped the care of Eunice’s 2 sisters and 2 brothers in the lap of local relatives. But Eunice was too tiny, her need for care too great.

Responding to a call from Malawi Social Welfare, our staff sprung into action. Driving some two hours north we arrived at her village, wrapped her in a warm blanket, and brought her back to her new home at the Nursery. Even then she had a special spark. She was a contented baby and her crier rarely went off.

Eunice could fall asleep anywhere, any time. In fact her five minutes of fame came when she was featured on YouTube as the amazing vertical sleeping baby. Like a Weeble, sitting upright on the floor, Eunice wobbles but does not fall down. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kj7JNIj-Vz4

Last week she went to town to do some banking with me and Augustine (our A.A.). While we struggled to stuff her under the straps of the car seat she never registered a sound of complaint. She was so quiet on the way to town I assumed she had fallen asleep. Instead, she was taking in all the sights. At the bank she walked around showing off her new shoes to everyone.

Last Friday we sang, prayed, and waved goodbye to Eunice. Augustine & Veronica drove the 2 hours back to the village and handed her off. Her father is still barely competent to care for himself, let alone Eunice. But, thank goodness, her aunt and uncle have opened their home, their arms, and their hearts to welcome her into their family along with their own 4 children.

Any one of our babies can win your heart. Nevertheless, Eunice is special. She has left an empty place here at the Nursery.

However, tomorrow Augustine I travel to a distant village to rescued another precious bundle of love—6 week old Joshua.

Dry Season

2010-11-10T09:54:00.002+02:00

It’s been months. Except for one early morning shower-surprise, it has been months since we have had any rain. During rainy season this was the ideal we longed for—relief from all the mud and water and power outages and fierce storms. But now we’re singing a different tune: “Let it rain, let it rain, let it rain!”

When the rain goes, the heat comes. Here in Mzuzu it is sunny and about 95 during the day. But we are at 4,500 feet so the altitude saves us. In fact, it cools down into the 60's most every night. But like our friends in Southern California we get a kick out of whining about “one damn sunny day after another!”

Along the shore of Lake Malawi, at near sea level, things are different. At the Lakeshore it's HOT. As high as 120+ degrees F. The sun feels like it is burning your skin after only 2 minutes exposure. Coming from the northern Adirondacks this is a new experience for us. Even when we visit the capital, Lilongwe, the buildings radiate the heat they have saved up all day, all night. The crowds feel bigger, the trucks louder, the tolerance level lower. Bare feet burn on hot pavement. When the power goes out the fans go off and then the heat closes in. But then, only 6 percent of Malawians have power anyway.

And the DUST. On our early morning walks (we walk at around 5:30am when it is cool) we are occasionally passed by a truck or car. The dust stirred up by the passing vehicle settles on your hair, your skin, your clothes – it's pretty grimy. The redness of the soil seems to be ground into our feet and under our nails. Even the dog is dusty – great clouds emanating from his fur when we pet him. When it's windy, swirls of dust dance across the road and scurry along into the bush.

Now add fire and smoke. Virtually everyone everywhere sets brush fires during dry season. Instead of mulching they burn. One organic farmer compares it to burning the family jewels. As a result, smoke is ubiquitous. Not a day goes by during dry season when the air is not polluted with smoke. Some days the Malawi country side could compete with Los Angeles for poorest air quality.

An upside of this season is things dry really fast. When hung outside, the laundry is dry in 20 minutes. Anything I hang in the house to dry will dry almost as quickly. It's actually quite amazing. But my flowers are drying out as well. I am watering 2 times a day but, except for a few hardy plants, I am losing the battle.

Yes, we long for rain. Not too much, mind you. Not the fierce storms drowning crops and washing away every remnant of topsoil that happens to be hanging around. Not the relentless downpours gouging away roads and clogging the hydro power intakes so we have no power for long periods. Not the raging torrents felling trees that take down the already tenuous power lines. No, we long for just enough rain to keep the dust and the temperature down and bring the crops up.

So, a little rain is needed here. Of course, it’s not expected before December, and even then, you never know. Like weather anywhere, we are at the whim of nature. What we really hope for is the right amount of rain at the right time so this year's corn crop will do well and Malawi will have food enough for another year.

The Mango Fly

2010-10-26T13:31:00.000+02:00

It started as a tiny itch in front of his right ear. No big deal. Who doesn't itch in this hot, dry place? But then it looked like a small pimple.And it didn't go away. Gradually it got bigger. After a few weeks it looked like a hard lump on the side of his face. Not inflamed, not dark. Just a lump. Sometimes itchy, occasionally painful.

Paul has had growths like this before, and they turned out to be fly pods. There are mango flies (tumbu flies) here in this part of Africa that lays eggs on clothes drying outside. The eggs then burrow into skin when it comes in contact with the cloth. They pupate in the skin and then crawl out when they are done. (eeeew!) Or they die when you apply Vaseline and tape for a few days. Then they dry up and fall off.

Ironing everything that comes in contact with your skin or 10 minutes in the dryer kills the eggs. But in spite of our taking care, Paul has had a few fly pods develop.

However, this one was different. There was no drying up. In fact, there was no change after several months. Bathroom surgery to remove the offending resident didn't help. It just made a black scab on the lump, which didn't get any better. What to do??

I emailed a dermatologist who had worked in Africa for many years, and included a picture of the bump in question. Diagnosis – mango fly.

So, since the fly was making no move to exit by itself we made an appointment to see the surgeon in Ekwendeni. (a mission hospital 25 minutes from here). She is from Holland and is here for 5 years. She looked at it and was glad to remove it. The appointment was made for the next week. On the day of the appointment the O.R. schedule had become so crowded that surgery was postponed another week and a short-term visiting surgeon from Holland was recruited to to do the job.

On the morning of surgery Paul was “prepped” by having his blood pressure taken. Then he had to remove ALL his clothes and wrap in a sheet. He reminded them that this was on his face, but the staff was insistent. He then had to take off his glasses, and walk outside around the building to the operating theater. Here he lay on the table and the surgeon took off the fly pod. It took 15 minutes, and since the doctor had done plastic surgery, it was a small and neat incision.

After surgery, Paul had to walk back outside around the building again, to the dressing room where he could dress and retrieve his glasses. No one had even asked him how he felt or taken his blood pressure after the procedure As we were getting ready to leave, a worker wanted to know why Paul wasn't headed to the recovery room. I guess you have to walk there, too. No one had said anything about a recovery room. Since he had only had a local anesthetic he felt he didn't need to recover, so we passed on the offer.

Instead, we went to billing to settle up. Total cost for surgery....$32.00. And by a plastic surgeon! You can hardly see the healing incision line after a week.

We will travel with our own pillow cases from now, which we know have been in the dryer or have been ironed. You never know what hitchhikers you will pick along the way.

Amaiz-ing

2010-10-18T13:22:00.003+02:00

N’sima makes you strong.”

Like the Nike swish or the mind manipulating mantra “For everything else use MasterCard”, the popularity of n’sima is a testimony to the power of advertising.

N’sima (or fufu or ugali) is THE main staple here in Malawi. In fact Malawians consume more n’sima per person than any other sub-Saharan country. This reality is often credited to a nationwide advertising campaign back in the 1960’s when maize was cheap & plentiful. A successful government campaign convinced the vast majority of Malawians that “N’sima makes you strong!”

N’sima is a chubby flour pancake that has no flavor and less nutrition. Nevertheless, n’sima does fill the belly, keep you alive, and is still relatively inexpensive.

N’sima begins it’s journey to the belly when the field corn ripens and is harvested. Usually the kernels are painstakingly removed from the cob by hand. At the Nursery we purchase maize kernels in 50 kg. bags (110 lbs.) for around $8.50 each.

Next we take the maize to the mill where the kernels are rinsed and shelled. Then we take it back to the Nursery to be winnowed, washed, and dried in the sun. Finally we return to the maize mill to have it ground into fine white flour.

Put water in a pot, add flour bit by bit and stir, stir, stir. When the n'sima becomes really thick and your arms begin to ache you know that the n’sima is almost done. Scoop it out with a heavy wooden spoon so it makes the pancake like shape and serve with a “dende” of greens, as well as a small “relish” of beans, beef, chicken, or fish, as available.

That’s it. N’sima is on the menu every day, twice a day, 313 days a year.(We serve rice at least once a week.) Even if a Malawian has eaten a full meal, if N'sima was not part of it they will tell you that they have not eaten. And to watch some of our Malawian friends at work, I’m almost beginning to believe it myself. N’sima makes you strong. It’s a maize ing!

SOS

2010-10-11T15:19:00.000+02:00

Here in Malawi they simply say “sose”.

SOS is the world’s largest orphan and abandoned children’s charity. They sponsor orphanages in 124 countries, including Malawi and the United States. There are 126 orphan villages in Africa alone. One of them is located right here in Mzuzu.

The Mzuzu SOS village recently expanded and there was now room to welcome several more infant orphans. But, they needed help compiling a list of eligible babies. So, SOS put out an S.O.S. Accompanied by Social Welfare, they came to a place they trusted—Mzuzu Crisis Nursery.

And did we have a list for them! When they left the Nursery that day, they had a referral list and a stack of files for 6 babies who we believed would benefit from a move to the SOS Village.

Chawanongwa

In Malawi, moving a child to an orphanage is usually a decision of last resort. Family is first, fostering second, and orphanages last. Most orphans here are not what we normally imagine. They are not usually the abandoned, isolated, social outcast street urchins we often picture in America. The Malawi extended family system functions as a social safety-net. Most orphans do have some connection with a relative who takes charge of them.

This does not mean they have an easy life. On the contrary, they are often treated poorly and literally find themselves at the bottom of the pecking order. Nevertheless, most orphans receive enough care to at least survive (except for vulnerable infants during the crisis period of their first year or so). And of course, some orphans grow up in situations where they actually thrive. However, where poverty is widespread life is a struggle for everyone.

The SOS village is an excellent model. The children live in a house with a “mother”and 7 brothers and sisters of differing ages. They eat, play, laugh and squabble as a family. They also have regular contact with their extended family in their home village.

Elvin at SOS

After home assessments were complete the decision was made. From our list of 7: Alick, Rejoice, Chawanangwa, and Elvin made the cut. Chawanangwa (12 months old) and Elvin (17 months old) were discharged directly from the Nursery to SOS. Rejoice had been discharged from the Nursery in January 2009 and Alick was discharged in December 2009. Both were languishing in their home village and the families agreed to send them to SOS.

All “our” babies received a V.I.P. welcome when they arrived at their new home in SOS Village. We are still working on behalf of those babies who did not make the cut. Hopefully they will be placed in a better situation soon. For they too are V.I.Ps.

God Waves

2010-09-24T12:40:00.002+02:00

How does the ocean not make waves?

or light,

or sound,

or heat,

not

for that matter?

And us?

Wave goodbye

to the myth of mortal placidness!

Myth busting physicists know better.

There is no such thing as

“empty space.”

All that is

makes waves.

though not detectable

(through sound

or sight,

or taste,

or touch,

or smell)

UNLESS ENHANCED!

So it is with God waves.

Paul Heller

Seeing Double

2010-09-14T14:03:00.003+02:00

Double the trouble, double the work

Double the formula, double the perk.

Double the pleasure, double the fun,

Double the challenge, when there’s more than just one.

Triple the double, triple the twin,

Triple the pair the Nursey lets in.

Isabelle/Thandi, Darlene & Jerrine

Now Moses & Marmen are here on the scene.

Triple the blessing, triple the fun,

Three sets of twins are funner than one.

Two sets are sisters, one set is boys,

(The first in our history, which explains all the noise.)

We’re now seeing double wherever we look

So are the nannies and so is the cook.

It’s not like sextuplets; it’s not quite the same.

Still it bodes giving thanks in God’s loving name.

Paul Heller

The Jerrines and Darlenes

2010-09-09T13:40:00.002+02:00

Darlene

The call came from Social Welfare that there were twins, three days old whose mother had died shortly after birth. We were told that they were so young they hadn't even been named yet. Augustine (our administrative assistant) and I left shortly after the call, as we had 2 openings. (A miracle in itself).

We didn't go alone, however. My twin sister and her husband are visiting us and they went along for the rescue. Jerrine was going to be the one holding one of the twins on the return trip to the nursery. Jim would document with photographs. So off we went.

Jerrine

The family was devastated by the loss of the mother. Two weeks had already passed since mom's death. Baby care was difficult. The grandmother had a can of Lactogen infant formula, but the girls were already showing signs of malnutrition. This is common, as Lactogen is a powder and it gets diluted too much. Enough powder to make the water whitish is all that is used, so it will last longer. This gives the baby fluid, but not enough protein. Both twins were tiny.

The father and village headman were eager for us to take the babies. They were also very grateful. The babies had already been named, but when the family discovered that Jerrine and I were twins they decided to name the girls Jerrine and Darlene after us, as a sign of respect and gratitude. Their given names would become middle names. This is common in Malawi.

Jerrines on left, Darlenes on right

Jerrine and I were thrilled! The first twin was named Jerrine, as Jerrine came first in our family. The second twin is Darlene, who came second like I did. The similarities were striking. We each held our respective namesake on the bumpy, dusty trip back to the nursery.

Jerrine and Darlene are now 3 weeks old and doing well. They are gaining weight and show no signs of any kind of illness. We are thankful that so far, all is well. And we are looking forward to watching the twins grow into healthy happy toddlers.

You Are What You Eat

2010-09-04T17:23:00.000+02:00

Sunday morning, after Paul preached, we began our 5 hour journey to spend a week in Lilongwe for business and meetings. All the babies were healthy and happy as we departed.

Monday evening we called the Nursery just to check in. The news was not good. Lister was suffering from vomiting and diarrhea. Joyce (our nurse) and Augustine (the administrative assistant) took her to the clinic for medical care.

By Wednesday evening, Emmanuel, Barnabas, Chawanangwa, Alesi, and the twins (Thandi and Isabelle), were also sick. What was going on?

Thursday morning, Barnabas and Emmanuel went to the hospital, were treated and released.

Friday, Barnabas and Emmanuel were still declining and Alesi had gotten worse. Joyce and Augustine took the three babies and headed back to the hospital for the third time in five days. Barnabas and Alesi recuperated in the Nursery sick room for three more days. Everything in the nursery was washed, scrubbed or boiled.

All these little ones were suffering from gastro/intestinal problems. For adults this is annoying. In infants it can be deadly. We needed to discover the cause.

If “you are what you eat,” then something in the babies’ diet was the culprit. Joyce decided the problem was with the Likuni Phala. A couple years ago we had purchased a tainted bag of Likuni Phala and now it had happened again. Likuni Phala is a mixture of corn and soy flour fortified with minerals and vitamins. Once they are able to digest it, Likuni Phala is the babies’ staple food.

Administrative Assistant, Augustine, returned the 50 pound bag of tainted flour. The folks at the mill apologized. It turns out they had discovered a broken sieve which allowed contaminants to enter our batch of Likuni Phala. A fresh bag was given to the Nursery.

How to avoid such a problem in the future? Simple. The nursery administrative staff will have the first meal from the new bag of Likuni Phala If no one gets sick, we figure it will be safe for the babies. A small price to pay for healthy babies!

We are now safely back in Mzuzu, and the babies are all healthy in the Nursery. God is good. All the time.

"Gotcha!"

2010-08-18T10:43:00.001+02:00

It was one cold and rainy night when Jackson arrived at our door. He came from Chitipa, a village in the far north, about a 4 hour drive from Mzuzu. Sadly, Jackson was rejected from birth. His mentally ill mother had been raped. She bit a nurse who was trying to help her breastfeed. She was simply not capable of parenting him. His grandmother was too old and poor to care for him. No other relatives were located who could care for him. So social welfare decided to entrust him to the care of our Crisis Nursery.

Jackson was cute and easy to love. He grew

Jackson at the nursery

and developed into a normal healthy baby who won our hearts. An American couple visited the Nursery and also fell in love with him. They decided to adopt. We were delighted. What an opportunity for Jackson—life in the U.S. with a warm, loving and financially secure family. They had all the proper paperwork and hired a lawyer. Twice they made the 10 hour drive from Lilongwe to Chipita to meet with the local Social Welfare. But the adoption process dragged on. The Malawian system stalled. It turns out that some distant relative finally said NO to his adoption. The American family ended up returning to the states with empty arms. We were all crushed.

And then, “out of the blue”, a businessman from Lilongwe contacted us saying he was Jackson's “uncle.” He said he would be coming to visit Jackson. We waited but he never came. After several more broken promises to come for a visit, we gave up. We didn't know what to do. Discharging Jackson to the village in Chitipa would certainly lead to starvation. So as Jackson began to grow out of infancy and into a rambunctious toddler, we waited.

Jackson's new family

Two weeks ago Jackson's uncle actually arrived at the Nursery. He had pre-arranged that he would take Jackson home with him. I silently vowed “maybe”. We would see. I was prepared not to like this man who couldn’t seem to keep his word.

Uncle and Auntie arrived as promised, in their car. Never before had any relatives arrived in their own car. Then they took a picture of Jackson with their camera! Then they called other family members on their phone. Uncle was a retired business man. Auntie was a new, young wife, eager for the chance to have a child.

Follow up Visit

They asked what Jackson liked to eat (never asked by a family before). They wanted to know when he slept, and asked about anything else they might need to know. They were interested and involved. They actually played with him (another first).

We waved good bye as the new family drove off. Uncle called a few days later with a few more questions. Jackson’s new step-sister posted his picture on facebook!! Unbelievable!

And guess what.

This “uncle” (actually some sort of distant cousin thrice removed) was the one who refused the adoption in the first place. He was planning all along to take the child, we just didn't know it. Jackson now lives in Lilongwe with his new family, well taken care of and totally a Malawian citizen. Gotcha! God has surprised once us again.

Buggery

2010-08-13T10:57:00.000+02:00

It is not an uncommon sight in Malawi—two men walking down the street hand-in-hand. (Women are usually too burdened to have a free hand.) The men may be chatting away or quietly enjoying each other’s company. No one notices. It is the way of friends.

It is uncommon in Malawi for two men to announce that they are being married to each other. So last Christmas, when a pair of male lovers did just that, the nation went into shock. Homosexual practice is against the law in Malawi. In May, after their trial for “buggery”, the unhappy couple was sentenced to 14 years in prison (presumably not in the same cell).

The politicians were pleased. The traditional leaders were pleased (although it was suggested that a 20 year sentence would have been better). Even the church leaders were pleased.

But not everyone was pleased. Some donor nations expressed outrage and even threatened to cut off aid to Malawi. These outside agitators were quickly told to mind their own business. Nevertheless, “multi-lingual” money talks in almost every tongue. In short order, the Malawi president soon pardoned the offenders.

Homosexual practice is still against the law in Malawi. (Although homosexuals here do not face the threat of a death penalty as they might in some other countries.) Given the strong feelings of righteous condemnation, an amazingly open public discussion is still taking place through the Malawi print media. And although this “first couple” has since broken up with one partner “going straight,” two men walking down the street hand-in-hand is still not an uncommon sight.

Second Wave

2010-08-05T11:04:00.002+02:00

In the midst of the global financial crisis, in early 2009 we received an e-mail from Ministry of Hope (MoH) in the U.S. addressing 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. … 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 6 orphan care centers).

Nevertheless, in spite of a drastic reduction in the "pot of money" to be shared, the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery was spared. The feeding centers and main office took the brunt of the financial blow.

This week, the “second wave” has hit our shores without any early warning and it is threatening to devastate the life of both Crisis Nurseries. An e-mail near the end of July tells the story:

This month's allocation (July) will be as follows:

MZUZU CRISIS NURSERY from $6,500.00 to $4,420.00

(Lilongwe Crisis Nursery from $6,000.00 to $4,080.00)

Financially speaking, the “bottom line” is that $6,500 per month is needed for the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery, to continue our level of care for the babies. As you can imagine, the loss of over $2,000 per month is devastating.

However, for Christians, the bottom line is never a minus sign (-). It is always the sign of the cross (+).

The babies + the staff + MoH Board + committed congregations + persevering presbyteries + compassionate corporations + interested individuals + our generous God all add up to the Hope which does not disappoint.

Rescued (part two)

2010-07-26T12:57:00.003+02:00

Another God Surprise!

In my mind I envisioned Alick starving to death. God had a different vision.

Monica, one of our nannies, had a special attachment to Alick. Unbeknownst to us she had asked the family to let her foster him. Was it possible that we could actually pick him up and take him back to Mzuzu? Take him to Monica’s house where he would receive the nutrition and nurture he so desperately needed? Could such a miracle happen? Today? Right now? Maybe.

Fostering in Malawi is tricky. Every single family member has to agree to the arrangement. And the last word, the final OK, is from grandpa. If the grandfather doesn't say yes, nothing happens. That’s just the way it is.

We sit outside on tiny wooden chairs and Augustine (our administrative assistant), the social worker and the family talk. Eventually, everyone agrees. Alick can go to live with Monica. Everyone agrees except grandpa. Grandpa says “No.”

Now Grandpa does nothing to care for Alick. Grandpa contributes no money into the meager family pot. Grandpa is blind and does not move around very well. But he still holds all the power.

We decide to have another family meeting and try again. It is the cool of winter now, but I move into the shade and find I am still sweating. What would it take to convince Grandpa to foster this child and save his life? What O Lord? I feel totally and completely powerless. I pray and wait. Grandpa loves Alick. The question is, does he love him enough to let him go where he can be cared for.

YES! Grandpa relents. We can move Alick today....now! Granny gets out a basin and sponges him off and I put on the new clothes we had brought with us. I feel light, and so do Granny and Auntie. Alick is going to Mzuzu, to a warm home with food and a net and maybe even school in his future. Thanks be to God!

Monica is at the Nursery to meet Alick and take him home. He remembers her and she reports that he had a good first night under a snuggly blanket in his new home. This morning, she dresses him in warm clothes and prepares breakfast. On his own, he goes and gets a raw potato from her bin and starts eating it – his usual village breakfast. She takes it away and gives him a nutritious bowl of warm porridge. He loves it!

Pictured: Grandpa, Alick, grandma and auntie on the way to the truck, Alick at the nursery.

Rescued ?

2010-07-20T13:04:00.000+02:00

Alick was one of my favorites. A loving, sweet baby he had an easy smile and endless enthusiasm for life. He made us laugh.

Alick (at 21 months old) was discharged to his home village into the care of his grandparents. They said they would care for him well.

Six weeks later, at his first follow-up visit he had lost 7 ounces. LOST 7 ounces. Alick was filthy and unhappy. His smile had disappeared. We suggested moving him to an aunt's house where it was reported that she had adequate food. Grandpa said OK. He was moved a short time after that.

At our next visit, 3 months later, Alick had lost another 2 ounces. This is a serious pattern in a healthy toddler. The aunt said he was a “picky eater” and refused food at times. He had suffered from malaria. They said he was sleeping under the net we had provided but, when we asked to see it, they admitted they didn't have it. We had given him a mattress (4” foam) upon discharge as well but that was nowhere to be found. We instructed the aunt on proper feeding and emphasized its vital importance. She nodded, saying she would do it.

Two months later (5 months after discharge) we made another follow-up visit. Alick had gained 1 ounce but was still 6 ounces under discharge weight. We found him malnourished and unhappy. He wouldn't play or interact and cried easily. We discussed another move but Grandpa would not hear of it.

Yesterday (five months later) we returned to visit Alick again. He was back with his grandparents but not doing well. Both he and his clothes were filthy. His hair was brittle and his abdomen bulging. His puffy hands and feet were another sign of malnutrition. He had suffered from a second case of malaria but there was still no net. The family water bucket was sitting next to a brooding hen in the bedroom where Alick and granny slept. The family's food was in the other room surrounded by the rest of the chickens and ducks. Everything was kept inside “to protect from thieves”. The house was a 2 room mud structure with no windows. There was no electricity in the entire village and the bore hole where they got water was a 15 minute walk. None of this is unusual. However, the extreme poverty of this family allowed for no food for this child. Alick was slowly starving to death.

It's hard not to feel totally hopeless in this situation. It's hard to keep going. What can we possibly do to keep this from happening again, and again, and again? I don't cry any more. I have built a fence around my heart so that these feelings can't get in. I can function better that way. I cry at night when I think about it. I try not to think about it.

(Next: Another God Surprise!)

Divided

2010-07-15T15:24:00.001+02:00

Sometimes I feel divided.

For I lead a double life,

Though I have a single paycheck

And I have a single wife.

I am a missionary

At home in Ma-la-wi.

And I am a North American

At home with family.

When I am there, I am not here

And no one understands

What life is like for me at home

In this impoverished land.

When I am here I am not there

And no one comprehends

What life is like for me at home

With family and friends.

Yet I’m at home, there is no doubt,

Though half a world apart.

Both America and Africa

Lay claim upon my heart.

Perhaps it’s there my double life

May one day be united.

For only love can make as one

These places long divided.

Paul Heller

What's the News?

2010-07-12T13:11:00.002+02:00

“Malawi is a failed state.” the article declared. It was our first day back in country and Malawi had appeared on a list of failed states based on social, economic, and political progress. “Malawi has a new flag.” announced another article. It was our second day back in country and the Parliament had just voted to convert the Malawi flag from a rising sun into a noon day sun. The reason? Malawi is a shining example of progress. No doubt the reality of Malawi’s status lies somewhere between these divergent views.

“Sex worker attacks witchdoctor” This was not a front page article but one that caught our interest. A sex worker who plies her trade at Malomo Trading Centre … last week chased a Mponela-based witchdoctor, who she accused of recommending false concoction for attracting men. The sex worker, who refused to disclose her identity, explained that she met the witchdoctor at the trading center where he claimed to have traditional medicine for various problems.

“He also mentioned that he had juju to enable us {sex workers} attract men. I bought some of the medicine at K1,800 ($ 12.00) but I did not see any change in my business,” lamented the woman. She explained that when the witchdoctor visited the trading centre again, she confronted him about his juju’s failure but the witchdoctor insisted that his medicine was effective.

“This angered me and I threw stones at him and he fled,” she said.

Freedom of the press is quite robust in Malawi and catching up on the news is always both interesting and entertaining. We’ll catch you up on the Nursery news next week.

Home

2010-05-24T15:33:00.001+02:00

Next week we are heading “home”. And yet, we are already “home”. Admittedly it is more difficult to “feel” at home when we are not fluent in the language or comfortable with the culture. On the other hand, our relationships with our friends, our associates, our house, our job, and our geography are quite comfortable. We are definitely at home.

Nevertheless, we are heading home—home where family and old friends await. There we are fluent in the language and somewhat more comfortable with the culture. But we call it home because of love that will not let name it anything else.

By far, the most difficult part of our 3 year Mission Co-worker assignment is the absence of our life-long loved ones. Often we think of those who preceded us around the world over a century ago. They arrived on a slow boat and so did their mail. It was 7 years or more before they returned “home” if ever. Even 20 years ago there was no e-mail, no cell phone, and no flying home except in emergencies. (Today PCUSA still sends mission personnel on a one way ticket and guarantees a return trip only after the three years.)

So, we are grateful for this opportunity. Thanks to the generosity of our Presbytery we have been flown home once a year. Home is critical for our physical, mental, and emotional health. When we return home to Malawi, we know we will be refreshed in body, mind, and spirit.

Until then we leave you with the words of Jesus from the Matthew ll:28-30 (The Message)

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Chindikani

2010-05-13T15:31:00.000+02:00

It was an ordinary day with ordinary weather and ordinary baby behavior. We had nothing special planned. Mid morning, social welfare and our neighbor walked in and asked for a conference with the director, nurse and matron. Arrangements had just been finalized for Chindikani's adoption!

Chindikani had been dumped into a pit latrine at the tender age of one month (we think) by her phychotic mother. (see previous blog “Rescued From the Pit”) She had survived unhurt, and came to us from the hospital a few days later. We weren't looking for a place for her yet, as she is only about 10 months old. We once took her to see her mother, who is in jail, but for the hour her mother held her she didn't once glance down at her own daughter. Going back to mom was not a possibility.

But while we din't plan, God did. Months ago our neighbor, who is a judge, and her lawyer husband had started adoption proceedings for this little girl. All was completed without us even knowing about it. This involves at least one year of fostering a child before formal adoption proceedings can begin. Everything was in place when they showed up at the door!! A miracle in Malawi, where complex adoption rules prevent most adoptions from ever taking place. So this was Chindikani's own miracle.

This neighbor lives only 2 doors down from the nursery, in a beautiful home. She is well able to care for this child and very excited. Her own children are grown and she has another adopted daughter who is about 6 years old.

So all we had to decide was – when. We feel the sooner adoption takes place, the better for the child. So on Tuesday, it was decided that Chindikani would leave us for good on Friday to join her new family.

What a blessing! What a surprise! Just when you think nothing special is happening, something that has been happening all along comes to light. And that day it came as a home for one of our abandoned little ones. Chindikani means praise, Chiuta means God. Chindikani Chiuta!

Getting Personal

2010-04-28T13:42:00.002+02:00

Imagine this as a HELP WANTED ad. “The Mobile Medical Team (sponsored by Ministry of Hope) is seeking fully qualified physicians to work 8 health clinics in the Malawi bush. Responsible for own plane fare, food, lodging, and transport. Must purchase a Malawi medical license (at great expense), donate 2 footlockers of medicine, and help underwrite the cost of clinics where you will be expected to work from dawn to dusk treating as many patients as possible.”

This is the third year that Ministry of Hope Mobile Medical Clinic, under the leadership of Dr. Ken Root, has made a major impact in communities surrounding Lilongwe. This is the second year that the team has made the journey north to Mzuzu and included the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery in its mission.

So why is this year different from all other years? Because it got personal. The two physicians who came to examine the babies and staff at the Mzuzu Nursery have been our friends for over 30 years. After two weeks of seeing hundreds of patients with the rest of the Medical Team, Dr. Paul & Dr. Carolyn Frymoyer stayed on in Mzuzu and brightened our lives for another 10 days. After treating our 17 babies and 26 staff, we had time to walk and talk and laugh and relax together. For us, it was the best medicine of all.

Rainy Season

2010-04-21T04:32:00.000+02:00

Rainy season!
Sounds pretty bleak doesn’t it? I think of weeks when “seldom is heard an encouraging word and the skies are not sunny all day.” At times a downpour can be incredibly fierce. If you are sleeping it will awaken you. If you are talking, even on the phone, it will drown you out. If you are driving, it will force you to pull off the road. Then, if you are on a dirt road, when the rain lets up you troubles just begin. These rutty, muddy roads can become so unstable it’s like trying to drive on a sheet of ice. In some places even four-wheel-drive vehicles proceed at their own risk.

Walking is no picnic either. Watch out for the misstep. The misstep occurs on a reasonable path that has a soft spot cleverly disguised as solid appearing mud. You think you are safe to put weight on your foot and then...squish! Your shoe goes in up to the ankle in soft, wet, sticky, oozy mud. It feels as squishy as it looks. Eeeeew!

They say you are not really Malawian until you have fallen in the mud. Count me in! Based on my experience I can say with confidence that it is a lot messier to fall down in mud than snow. And it’s lot harder to clean off. On the other hand, I can also confirm that we are totally washable! It's a good thing. Mud stained pants, clay soaked socks, and
dirt caked boots can be cleaned to look perfectly pristine.

Worst of all is the frightening lightening. Early this rainy season both our copy machine and computer were fried by a stealthy strike that virtually came out of the blue. Worse still are the statistics related to the numbers of Malawians who are struck down and killed in a flash every year.

There is a bright side to rainy season. If it doesn’t come too soon or too late, if it doesn’t end too soon or too late, and if it doesn’t come too often or too seldom rainy season is the key to a good harvest. Not only that, after months of dry season; when the dirt roads are turned into dust bowls, the hillsides have become brown, and the air is full of smoke from brush fires; guess what I look forward to? Yes—rainy season! Rainy season brings green hillsides, lush grass, beautiful flowers, and relief from the choking dust of dry season.

But enough already. Rainy season in Mzuzu is slowly winding down. To be honest, I am glad to see it go.

Womb Mates

2010-04-11T17:02:00.002+02:00

When the first phone request came, the Crisis Nursery was full to capacity. “We have a set of two week old twins whose mother died last week. The family has 7 other children and is having trouble coping. Can you take them?” inquired the social worker from a village some three hours south. “We are full right now but will see what we can do.” was our honest but evasive response. Pushing beyond our limit of 15 babies has several ramifications. It requires hiring more nannies, purchasing more formula, and adapting to more crowded conditions. It also sets a precedent that our limit is not really a limit.

So the first tact was to review the progress of our current babies to see who, if anyone, might be eligible for early discharge. Out of 15 little ones, only one seemed like a possibility—“Albert”.

Albert is 11 months old, plump, healthy, and happy. Although he is not walking he motors around quite well. If the home situation was suitable he could definitely be discharged to help make room for the twins. So the nurse and administrative assistant set off to his village to do a home assessment. What they found was discouraging. Nine other siblings are living at the home, Albert would make 10. The gogo (grandmother) did not feel up to the task of taking him in. The aunt showed little interest in caring for another child. There was inadequate food in the house and Albert’s father was nowhere to be found. We decided that Albert should not be discharged at this time.

The next phone request was more urgent. “The babies are still ok but the family is really struggling. When can you help us?” Three days later the matron, nurse and administrative assistant drove the 200 kilometers (half on dirt roads) to the village. What they found was encouraging. The month old twins—Isabelle and Thandi—were tiny but healthy enough. The family had somehow managed to purchase a tin of Lactogin I formula and was bottle feeding the babies.

The former womb mates are now crib mates in what is usually reserved for the Nursery sick room. They are 3 months old. In a few months we will have a couple of other babies ready for discharge. Then we can return to our comfortable limit of 15. In the meantime, there is no limit to the joy of watching Isabell & Thandi begin to thrive.

What to Do

2010-04-05T13:15:00.001+02:00

What to do?

What can I do

when doing doesn’t do it?

How can I become

when I am most unbecoming?

Could it be my true being

is not in my doing?

or even in my becoming?

Maybe best I can do

is become human

by being

Ever in YOUR Presence.

by Paul Heller

This is a first!

2010-03-31T14:47:00.004+02:00

Check it out! If you look closely at the attached picture of Augustine (Administrative Assistant) holding a giant check you will see that it is made out to the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery. You will also note the amount—MK 750,000.00. That not only sounds like a lot of money, it is a lot of money (around $5,000.00 more or less).

Local congregations and individuals in Malawi have made generous donations to the Nursery from time to time. These gifts are usually in the form of dry goods (flour, sugar, beans etc.) and occasionally some hard to raise Kwacha. Several U.S. funded NGO's in Malawi are also providing grants for our operation. However, the great percentage of our support has come from abroad, especially Presbyterian Church U.S.A congregations.

For the first time a Malawi based business (National Bank of Malawi) has stepped up and made a significant donation to the Nursery on behalf of the orphaned babies in our care. We are thrilled! The occasion was the opening of a beautiful new bank building here in Mzuzu. Bingu Mutarika, the president of Malawi, was invited as the keynote speaker. He personally presented the check to Augustine. When told that we should attend the ceremony to receive a donation, we imagined (at best) that we would receive a few 100 pound bags of maize. That’s why the man in the picture is smiling!

Our hope and prayer is that this donation will be a sign of the future. The more the Nursery gets known around Malawi for its outstanding crisis care for orphaned babies, the more support we will receive from Malawians. This can’t help but strengthen our partnership and secure a bright future for God’s most vulnerable little ones.

Raising the Roof

2010-03-23T10:56:00.000+02:00

It was not a good sign. After locking the house, we were walking toward the truck to begin a 4½ hour drive to Lilongwe. First we heard it, then we saw it. Water—pouring out from a pipe near the roof. It was coming from the hot water overflow tank located in the attic crawl space. Since this had happened once before we figured it wasn’t an emergency. Nevertheless, it was not a good sign.

While we were gone the problem was diagnosed. The “pre-fill” tank had a leak. Our Mr. fix-it applied some caulking which slowed the flow but did not solve the problem. Since the leaking tank was made of copper we would need to take it to someone in town who had an acetylene torch and have it soldered. We would have to take the water heater with “pre-fill” tank and all. But there was only one way to get the large contraption out of the attic—through the roof.

On Friday we consulted with a plumber and he agreed to come to the house “first thing” Monday morning. Unfortunately the power & water were shut off on Sunday. Sunday night, the city water started flowing back into the house with all the sediment that accumulates when there is a shut down. (See picture of our kettle with tap water in it.) This clogged the overflow pipe and guess what? Water poured into the attic and then rained down in the hallway. While Darlene started mopping up the water in the hall Paul managed to find the home made ladder, climb through the attic access, unclog the pipe and turn off the hot water altogether.

Shortly after 10:00 a.m. on Monday morning the plumber showed up on his bicycle (which was very helpful because we usually have to provide transport to plumbers, electricians, etc.). Under threatening skies, (this is rainy season) he began raising the roof removing two of the 15 foot long tin sheets. Then the plumber, the cook, the gardener, and Paul hoisted the thing out of the attic, onto the roof, down the rickety ladder, and into the back of the truck. Of course, at this point, there was still water in the tank. This not only made it heavy as a horse but also it began to empty before ever leaving the attic, once again drowning the hall floor below.

While we were in town with the heater, the skies no longer threatened—they delivered a deluge. Fortunately the plumber had replaced the roofing tins and secured them well enough to prevent much of the water from getting into the house.

Now the roof is back on and so is our hot water. It all cost about $70 and a days' work for Paul. When we told a Malawian friend that in the U.S. we usually put our hot water heaters on the ground floor she said: “Good idea!”

Divine Intervention

2010-03-15T14:36:00.000+02:00

It was not the end of our world but it sure felt like it. “I have decided that I need to resign and move to Lilongwe.” This decision by our Nurse, Anna Kamanga, felt like a tsunami surging over our Crisis Nursery, threatening it’s very foundations. Anna has served as the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery Nurse since it’s early beginnings. She has been our rock. A quiet, competent, compassionate professional, Anna seemed to us irreplaceable. She was an expert on treating Malaria. She has invaluable contacts with the local hospitals, medical officers, and police. And, perhaps above all, she had become a dear friend.

What would we do? Where could we turn? Emotionally I was progressing from grief, through anxiety, to outright panic. An advertisement in the newspaper and an announcement at church brought only one response. A young woman phoned to say she was interested in the position. When asked about her education she replied that she had none but she would really like to be a nurse.

Just a few weeks before Anna was to officially resign and depart for Lilongwe, an old friend whom she hadn‘t seen in years, “happened” to stop by her house for a visit. When Joyce Nyasulu learned of Anna’s plans she mentioned that she herself was thinking of resigning her current position (which involved a lot of travel) and returning home to Mzuzu if she could find the right job.

Two weeks ago Joyce joined the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery Team and we are thrilled. Joyce has a BSN from Howard University in the US. She is familiar with the area and has contacts everywhere. And she has a wonderful way about her. Anna was here for Joyce’s first week of orientation and now she has moved on to Lilongwe to share her skills with Ministry of Hope’s Mobile Medical Clinic. Joyce is here functioning in a most efficient, competent and pleasant way.

Far be it from us to comprehend the ways of the Lord. But from everything we can discern, our new nurse is what can best be described as a God-send!

Alesi

2010-03-01T14:18:00.002+02:00

The hospital said that her mother died 3 days after childbirth. The reason? Anemia caused by repeated cases of malaria. This is the all-too-familiar tale that we receive from social welfare workers when they ask us to rescue a baby. Maternal death rates here are very high. Infant survival rates without the mother are very low. Fortunately the Nursery had a space, so we took Alesi in.

Alesi weighed a mere 4lb. 8 oz. at birth and even less (4 lb. 1 oz.) when she was admitted to the Nursery. She was 9 days old when she arrived at our door— jaundiced, lethargic, and virtually unable to suck. “Sleepy” said her caretaker. So, instead of providing the vigilant care needed for such an at-risk infant, the caretaker just let her sleep.

We fed Alesi an ounce of formula every hour. Nevertheless, she became weaker and weaker and was still unable to suck. We were feeding her with an eyedropper, but dishearteningly, she became unable to swallow. Our only option was take her to the hospital. There, she got a feeding tube and IV antibiotics for the sepsis that was slowly killing her. She stayed in the hospital for a week, struggling for her life. We were very worried because Alesi wasn’t gaining any weight. Fortunately we discovered that her IV had been clogged for 2 days and no one had noticed! Once the drip was finally re-started, she tolerated her feedings and the tube was eventually removed. After 9 days in the hospital Alesi was discharged weighing the same as when we got her—4 lbs 1 oz. However, she did appear to be doing slightly better. She was weak, but well.

Back at the Nursery we started feeding her with a tiny cup as she was still too weak to suck. She was assigned a special nanny devoted to her care, feeding her every hour and keeping her isolated from the other babies to protect her from infection.

Slowly, slowly, Alesi got stronger. Still, I was doubtful about her survival, worrying over every little thing that happened. She got bloody diarrhea, an infection on her scalp, and was still incredibly vulnerable. But she grew stronger, ate better, and finally gave up the cup to go for the nipple on the bottle.

Today Alesi finally broke the 3 kg mark (6 lb 6 oz). She sucks her bottle well. She kicks and looks around and is getting cheeks (in both places). She looks like a survivor. We will move her into a regular baby room with 4 roommates today.

Alesi is a success story of the best kind. Whenever I get discouraged I go into her room and peek at her soft and growing frame. Alesi gives me hope.

Pictured with Alesi is visitor Rebekah Heller

Jesus, Mary and Moses

2010-02-20T12:52:00.000+02:00

Jesus, Mary and Moses,

all 3, like me,
found it hard to see
why there couldn’t be
another way out.

Moses pleaded: “O God PLEASE!”
Fear made Mother Mary freeze!
Jesus cried out from His knees:
“There’s gotta be another way!”

So why did Moses finally go?
How did Mary begin to “show?"
Why did Jesus suffer so?

“There had to be another way."

Of course there was
There always is
A choice between our way and His

But though that choice be fair and free
I struggle so to “Let it be.”
God help me choose your will for me.
Like Jesus, Mary, and Moses.

The Numbers

2010-02-10T16:49:00.000+02:00

It was the fourth Sunday in Advent 2009 and John the Baptizer would have been pleased. While John appeared in the Lectionary reading the previous Sunday, he appeared to be present at St. Andrews (Church of Central Africa Presbyterian) on this Sunday before Christmas. The 8:00 a.m. English service was a “pre-Christmas rally” led by the Christian Youth Fellowship. But the 10:00 a.m. Tumbuka service was a celebration of adult and infant baptism. There were a little fewer than 1,000 in attendance at the English service.

Here are the numbers for the Tumbuka service:
1,200 In attendance
30 Minutes for the sermon
45 Young people confirmed
44 Adults baptized
36 Infants baptized
3 Hours for the service
2 Ministers leading the service
1 Caucasian present at the service

Fortunately John the Baptist was not invited to preach. His “Brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?” sermon isn’t exactly welcoming. And, of course, this was not John’s baptism but baptism "In the name (mu zina) of the Father (wa Dada), and the son (na la Mwana) and the Holy Spirit (na la Mzimu Mtuwa) one God (Chiuta yumoza ). Amen!"

One God, one faith, one baptism, one church! Paul the Presbyterian was privileged to baptize 22 of the adults and 18 of the babies, and he still thinks that John the Baptist would have been pleased.

Let Us Play

2010-02-01T11:42:00.001+02:00

"Please sign your name if you are planning to go to our all day party, including a free lunch of fresh chombo and chips". This was the invitation announced at out all staff meeting last November. Out of 22 people (including us), we ended up with 22 names on our sign up sheet for the November 14 Play Day.

It was a day to remember. Imagine, the fifth largest fresh water lake in the world on your doorstep but never having gone for a swim or (like a few of our staff) never even having seen it. After a 2 hour ride on a chartered bus we arrived at an exquisite sandy beach on the shores of Lake Malawi. It didn't take long before folks were frolicking in the water like a family of otters. Before the end of the day, even the most timid joined in the water games. At 100 kwacha per person (70 cents), an enterprising young entrepreneur with a leaky rowboat offered an added adventure. Paddling with 6 people at a time, he ventured a few dozen yards out into the gentle surf and back. It took a lot of courage for those who were basically terrified of the lake, but everyone ended up going!

Playing all day in the hot Malawi sun made it perfectly clear why our Creator covered Malawians with such beautiful deep black skin. Paul spent most of the day hiding in the shade and Darlene got a sunburn to remember even with SPF 50 sunscreen. At the end of the day, a good time was had by all.

Every Thursday morning the staff gathers at 7:30 to pray together. But we realize that it is also vital for us to play together. The staff that prays together and plays together works well together for the benefit of the babies.

Let us play!

Re-Presenting

2010-01-26T13:51:00.001+02:00

Being laid up

laid low

laid off

“laid”

(against one’s will),

Will lay bare

one’s soul.

Will expose our power

less

ness.

Will threaten to ravage

body,

mind,

& spirit.

Save

for the open arms

of one

who will

still embrace.

Save

for the silent presence

of one

who will

still affirm.

Save

For the healing love

of one

who will

humbly re—present

our Savior.

by Paul Heller

Revolving Door

2010-01-22T13:01:00.006+02:00

There is a brand-spanking-new bank in town. It has a revolving door—the first of its kind in Mzuzu. So locals are understandably a bit intimidated upon their initial entrance and exit through this contraption.

I imagine the Crisis Nursery is like that revolving door. It must seem a bit intimidating for the babies who make their initial entrance and exit through this, their temporary home. Of course, when they first arrive, our little ones are barely aware of their surroundings. Nevertheless, my guess is that they know they are being held, and fed, and talked to, and played with in a way they have not experienced before. (Not to mention the strange sight of those 2 ghost-like people with no color in their skin.)

When it is time for a baby to leave the Nursery, they sense that something is up. Most become very contemplative. Are they wondering what their life will be like on the other side of that revolving door?

Today we are actually having two babies in the door at the same time—one on the way in and one on the way out. Smart, (pictured here), is our oldest-19 months, and has a quiet smile that would melt the coldest heart. He is on his way to Rafiki Village and we are thrilled. Growing up at Rafiki is a bit like winning the lottery for orphans. It is a well built, well run, well funded American orphanage that cares for their children up to and including a college education at the Malawi University of their choice. It is certainly not the answer for the huge number of Malawi orphans but it is a piece of the puzzle of quality orphan care.

13 month old Sibongile arrived at our door in the same Rafiki vehicle that took Smart away. She is scheduled to be admitted to Rafiki but they are not equipped to care for babies under 18 months old. At her age, coming through our revolving door was definitely intimidating. (She has not stopped crying since her arrival over two hours ago.) I suspect that 5 months from now her exit will be far less traumatic for her, if not for us.

Help is Here

2010-01-05T15:49:00.004+02:00

Good news! Our friends, Scott and Gayle Barton are visiting form the US. Paul and Scott were pastors together in the Presbytery of Northern NY for years. The Bartons have brought the replacement computer and All in One that lightening destroyed last month. The Presbytery has provided these things and Gayle (a computer expert) is in the process of installing them as we speak.

When they arrived in Mzuzu there was no power. Yesterday there was thunder and lightning so we had to shut the computer down. Today the same. We have gone to a place with a satellite connection to try and download necessary software and anti virus since doing so at the nursery would have taken 9 hours -and that's just for the antivirus software. Progress is painfully slow, as is all progress in Malawi. But we are getting there. Hoo Ray!!

At the nursery two babies have malaria. We are one over census as we had to take in a 2-year old who was abandoned in the mud behind the police station.We will keep him a week or two until social welfare decides what to do with him. One of the twins we admitted 4 days ago went directly from the village to the hospital because he was having breathing problems. His brother is one of the ones here with malaria. And so it goes. But this is how life is here, and we take one day at a time.

Hopefully we will be able to post blogs more frequently and do all the necessary printing and copying we need to do at the nursery. Things go so much more smoothly when we don't have to hand write every single thing we do. We're getting there. More updates soon to come, we hope.

EMMANUEL

2009-12-24T19:24:00.000+02:00

Dec. 21, 2009

Last month, as you are no doubt aware, a direct lightening strike to the Nursery destroyed our main computer & all-in-one. (Through the generosity of the Presbytery of Northern New York replacements are on their way!)

Last week, upon returning from Lilongwe both our water and electric were off at home. No surprise. What did surprise us was the huge swarm of African bees setting up housekeeping near the entrance to our house. We had to go through the garage and then figure out how to get rid of the infestation. The bees had settled in the space around our bathtub which is only accessible through an outside vent. (We ended up spraying them into oblivion after dark.)

Yesterday morning's earthquake tremor (plus a couple of earlier ones) shook us awake in the early hours and was momentarily frightening. However, Mzuzu is far enough from the epicenter so that we have sustained no damage.

This morning our newest and most vulnerable baby, Chawananga, died at St. Johns Hospital. When she came to us she was so malnourished that she simply could not recover. (See last month's blog: Marasmus.) It is a sad day but we are glad that we can entrust her to God's care before Christmas.

So, between lightening, earthquake, pestilence, and death it has been quite a month. Like Elijah, I did not hear God speaking in the lightening, or the earthquake, or the pestilence. Instead, I heard a still-small voice from the still-small lifeless body reminding me that: "In life, in death, in life beyond death, we are not alone. God is with us." (Emmanuel!)

Christmas Blessings,

Paul & Darlene

p.s. It is probably a good thing that most buildings in Malawi are simple one story structures. Otherwise the earthquake damage could have been much worse. However, another major tremor is predicted for Boxing Day (the day after Christmas.) A CCAP pastor from the earthquake epicenter in Karonga says that many people are fleeing the area and that mini-bus rates have doubled. His church has been condemned and his family, along with most others, is sleeping outside their home (except when it rains) for fear of another quake.

Smart Tembo on the scale

Darlene & Vincent at the computer

CRASH !!

2009-12-14T11:22:00.000+02:00

Yesterday morning, while I was home trying to throw off a week's bout with bronchitis, Darlene sat down in front of her office computer with a cup of tea and POW!
The computer (not the tea) took a direct hit from an otherwise unannounced lightening strike. Screams, followed by tears, followed by hair pulling, followed by extreme frustration.

We took the computer to our IT person where it was pronounced D.O.A. Our main office machine, an all-in-one that we do all our copying, forms and paperwork on, also died in the blast. The lightening came in through the phone cable, so everything suffered fatal internal damage. It will take some time to sort out the way forward.

The good news is that although the lightening made a direct hit on the Nursery roof, the only other damage was a slight leak in the hallway. All babies and staff are fine.

While our main communication link has suffered a major setback we are reminded that the internet is not what truly links us together. "Blest be the tie that binds, our hearts in human love."

Marasmus

2009-11-19T10:36:00.000+02:00

I learned about all kinds of things in nursing school that I promptly stored in the darkest recesses of my mind, thinking “I’ll never need that.” Take marasmus for instance. Marasmus is the most serious form of malnutrition; wasting caused by a protein and calorie deficiency. This happens in infants when they don’t get enough milk. It is always serious, and if it lasts long enough, the infant dies.

I had never actually seen marasmus – until I got here. Now I see it a lot. Just last week we admitted 2 new babies and both have marasmus. Emanuel came to us from a far away village. His mother died after childbirth and dad took the baby home to be cared for by grandma. Grandma and grandpa were willing and appeared able to look after Emanuel. They owned a small shop and had lots of canned milk powder available. They also had a feeding bottle. Yet when we arrived at the home, there was Emanuel—starving. He had gained only 4 ounces since his birth the month before. Why??? We don’t know .

Chawanangwa arrived yesterday, from the mission hospital in nearby Ekwendeni. She has been at the hospital for the 2 months since her mother died in childbirth. Chawanangwa’s elderly aunt was caring for her. During this time she lost more than ½ pound. Her aunt was not feeding her enough. Instead, the aunt was diluting the milk she had brought, and even drinking some of it herself. Hospitals here do not provide any food or care – that is up to the family of the patient. Incredible as it sounds, a baby can die of starvation while being a patient in the hospital. Why? God knows.

What we do know is that these heartbreaking events are not uncommon. In fact, they are all too common. Without the Crisis Nursery both Emanuel & Chawanangwa would likely be facing a slow and painful death. Watching little ones like them thrive on the good food and good care provided by our dedicated nannies is the best part of this job.

Don't Have

2009-11-12T11:30:00.000+02:00

“Don’t have” is a common phrase here in Malawi. It is used often and in the most unexpected places. Like today. We are in Lilongwe for a meeting. We made the 5 hour drive yesterday so we could stock up on things that are unavailable, (or more expensive) in Mzuzu—like brown rice, cheese, skim milk powder, and granola. We shopped as soon as we got here. But we didn’t follow the first rule of life in Africa…”If you need it and they have it – get it.” Today, this pertained specifically to fuel. We made it to Lilongwe with over ¼ tank to spare, enough to get us around Lilongwe the next couple of days. We had some serious shopping to do, so first things first. We could fill up before returning to Mzuzu. At the end of the day the announcement came over the radio: “Fuel shortage starting today…may last up to a week.” Country wide! A week!! Last year we were stuck in Lilongwe overnight with a fuel shortage. The thought of spending an entire week here was less than exhilarating. This was supposed to be a 2 day trip.

The next day, as we shopped for a giant cook pot, Paul mentioned our dilemma to an Indian shopkeeper . He graciously informed us that owners of the station he uses has their own truck fleet. So he called on our behalf and was told there was a fuel tanker arriving within in an hour. We quickly finished up our shopping and drove over to the station, where trucks of all descriptions were lining up. Crowds of Malawians huddled around the pumps, filling up their 5 gallon drums and carrying them away . The temperature was high and emotions higher still. There was lots sweating and jostling for positions. Only one diesel pump was open. It looked hopeless.

Jumping the cue, Paul maneuvered our pick up into the line, squeezing in between 2 enormous tractor trailers and about 10 can carrying Malawians. It took the truck in front of us 30 minutes to put the 700 litres of fuel into his 2 tanks. We waited tensely as the driver pulled away and Paul edged into place. But we made it! After a few drum fill ups we had our turn. It took us 2 ½ minutes to fill and pay. We would be able to return to Mzuzu when we planned!

You never know when things will be available. In Mzuzu, stores have run out of bread, sugar, meat (for a month), jam (all types), brown flour, yeast, candles, chicken and numerous other items. They just aren’t available – anywhere. You just do without. Restaurants may have an extensive menu, but if you order anything but “chicken & chips” they will often say, “Don’t have.”

Right now our fuel tank is full and we have most of the things on our shopping list. And on our next trip to Lilongwe the first place we will go when we arrive is the gas station. You just never know.

Would you like to see an amazing picture of the gas station grid lock?

“Don’t have.”

A Time For Everything

2009-11-07T13:52:00.000+02:00

“We are coming to your house tomorrow.” announced the voice on the other end of the phone. At the time, we were having dinner with guests and should have ignored the call. But like Pavlov’s dog we have been trained to answer when the phone rings.

“Who is this?” I inquired. “This is the St. Andrew’s Church Women’s Guild, and we are coming to your house tomorrow at 3 o’clock.” Slightly taken aback I replied in my politest voice: “We will not be here tomorrow afternoon because we will be working at the Nursery. But you are welcome to visit us there.” The caller persisted: “We don’t know how to find the Nursery so we will come to your house.”

Eventually, the Women’s Guild relented and at 3 o’clock the next afternoon a small pick-up truck, bulging with a gang of Presbyterian Women, pulled into the Nursery courtyard. As they disembarked they also unloaded a truckload of goodies—sugar, potatoes, soap, soft drink, etc.

After a quick tour of the Nursery we shared devotional time led by a member of the Guild. Then came introductions, a few short speeches, and 2 presentations. Dada Maliska (Paul) received a brand new shirt from the market and Mama Maliska (Darlene) was presented with 4 meters of beautiful material to be made into a dress. We thanked the women for the personal gifts and also for their generosity in bringing all the sugar, potatoes, etc. for the Nursery.

Only after their departure did we finally get clued in. Not only the shirt and material, but all the food, soap, etc. were gifts meant not for the Nursery but for the minister and the minister’s spouse. It is the duty and privilege of the Women’s guild to look out for the well being of all the pastors (Muliska) related to their congregation. This was not a spur of the moment drop in just to interrupt our busy day to say hello. This was a well planned care program for me and Darlene. The women raised the funds, purchased the gifts, and actually called (a highly atypical concession to us Americans) to announce their arrival.

It is the first time in my 36 years as a pastor that we have received such a visit. And the first time we received a chicken from the church.

NOTE: In addition to being director of the Crisis Nursery Paul also serves as the associate pastor of the 1200 member congregation of St. Andrew’s Presbyterian Church in Mzuzu.

The Fall

2009-10-19T11:18:00.000+02:00

Falling in love is a wonderful thing. It’s like walking into a surprise party for two. Falling out of love is a painful thing. It’s like walking out of a funeral home. Yet, as I remind couples when I preach a marriage homily, the honeymoon always ends. Sooner or later we hit the ground and fall out of love. Only then does the work of real love begin. {Which is why most men should stay married—it’s the best chance we have for growing up!}

I fell in love with Malawi during my first visit here in 2002. After 2 months of immersion in Malawi life both Darlene & I became convinced that our love was real. Our desire to somehow return for a long term commitment was undeniable.

Six years later (after 2 more visits) we said our vows and “moved in.”On Aug. 7, 2008 we returned to Malawi for a three year term as PCUSA (Presbyterian Church USA) missionaries. However, we soon became painfully aware that there is a huge difference between casual visits and “living together”. In fact we had a devil of a time. The honeymoon was over, we hit the ground, we fell out of love.

August 7, 2009 when we left for a visit to the States, some people wondered if we would ever return to Malawi. In my darkest moments, so did I.

We had fallen out of love.

Nevertheless, along the way, we had also begun the hard work of real loving. Our feelings had changed but our commitment had not. We were growing up. Returning to Malawi & the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery after our visit to the States was truly returning home. (Be it ever so humble!)

Exorcism

What the devil is going on here?

The devil,

the father of lies,

the tempter of souls,

the destroyer of hope,

gets a kick out of kicking us

when we are down.

So we say:

“The Devil made me do it!”

Do you “believe” in the Devil?

No, not I.

Yet,

I know not

how better to name “it”.

The lies that corrupt my mind,

the trials that drag down my spirit,

the darkness that shrouds my soul,

Is real!

Until…..

all heaven breaks loose

and I glimpse

The Light—The Life—The Love

of One who alone is

Truth;

the One who lifts my soul

above the devil’s reach .

Paul Heller

Domestic Difficulties

2009-10-07T10:44:00.000+02:00

We are back in Malawi and everything is running at full swing. Now we can start to deal with some of the everyday problems that arise. The most pressing domestic problem we have is the rat. Yes, we have a rat living with us at home. I saw it one night. Then I saw its’ path of destruction. It chewed through powdered milk packets and the flour bag. It worked on the spices and even ate through the precious taco seasoning mix from the States (that dirty rat!!). It ravaged Paul’s desk drawers, leaving evidence of its’ presence with chewed fragments of scotch tape and numerous poops. Eeeeeeeeeeeew!

After it ate the taco seasoning I declared WAR. The only good rat is a dead rat. I tried traps and rat poison. No luck. It seems our rat enjoyed peanut butter the most. So I mixed the rat pellets with the peanut butter making special “crunchy” peanut butter. No go. Nothing.

After numerous failed attempts to kill this obnoxious critter I asked our staff for help. They readily agreed. They were up for the challenge. So yesterday, while I was at work, they did the deed. They heard the rat behind the bookcase in the study, and cornered it. Gift guarded the area in case the rat took an escape route while Baulen ran for the broom. Then they pressed the bookcase against the wall until the dirty rat came scurrying out from behind it. WHAM !– Baulen nailed it using the “percussion method”. Bingo! He was so excited he called me at work, where I was equally excited.

Baulen told me that he had killed another rat in the study while we were gone. So this was not the first. That gives me hope that we are now rat free (for the time being). We’ll see how long it lasts.

While We were Gone

2009-10-01T14:53:00.000+02:00

“Who is minding the store while you are here in the States?” It’s a question raised at almost every one of our 8 Nursery presentations during September.

The answer is simple—our competent Malawian staff. Augustine Harawa (Administrative Assistant), Anna Kamanga (Nurse), and Veronica Mwenelupembe (Staff Supervisor), took full responsibility for all administrative decisions. Our 12 nannies, 2 house-keepers, 2 watchmen, and 1 gardener, carried on faithfully.

Upon our return we were welcomed with songs and hugs. We were also welcomed by 15 healthy babies,

including 3 new arrivals Brandina, Eunice, and Gift. Alec, however, Alec who has filled our life with the joy of his smile, his play, and his hugs since our arrival last August, Alec has gone back to his home in the village. That is the joy of why the Nursery exists, but still it hurts.

Visiting our own “home village” in the States was a joy, but so is the return to our village here in Mzuzu.

Pictured are our 4 newest residents going to the clinic for their baby shots.

New Arrivals

2009-09-03T22:17:00.000+02:00

We are currently in the States for a little American R & R (Running & Racing). While the pace is busy we are enjoying time with family and will soon be visiting churches to tell baby stories. Since leaving our home the Nursery has welcomed two new arrivals which has tipped the gender balance in favor of little girls.

Augustine, the Administrative Assistant, wrote to announce their admission.

“Yesterday we admitted a new baby girl by the name of Brandina Nyasulu and she is one and a half months old. Her birth weight was 3.7 kgs but her weight has gone down to 3 kgs during her admission date. The mother died some three weeks ago and the baby was being taken care of by her uncle. She is the sixth born in a family of six. We don't know yet if the mother had tested for HIV or not and what made her die. The attached photo of the baby was taken yesterday at the Mzuzu District Social Welfare Office.”

Last week Augustine emailed the arrival of 2 month old Eunice Nyasulu (no relation to Brandina). Her mother died on August 19 and she was admitted to the Nursry on the 21^st.

The Nursery is now operating at full capacity with a total number of fifteen babies.

During our time in the States, Paul & Darlene will be speaking about the mission of the Nursery at the following Presbyterian Churches:

Sunday 9/6 10:00 am Plattsburgh worship (518-561-3140)

Tuesday 9/8 6:00 pm Chazy potluck (846-7349)

Wed. 9/9 5:30 pm Saranac Lake potluck (891-3401)

Thur. 9/10 6:00 pm Potsdam potluck (265-9434)

Sat. 9/12 6:00 pm Watertown Stone potluck (788-5630)

Sun. 9/13 Watertown First worship

Tues. 9/15 11:00 am Rouses Point Presbytery meeting

Sun. 9/20 11:00 am Woods Memorial, Saverna Park, Md.

The Gated Community

2009-08-03T13:43:00.000+02:00

The weather is getting nicer now, and we are taking the babies out to play almost every day. Our play area is the patio right off the dining room. It’s so convenient for the staff. It gives great access for welcoming people coming in. But was just an open entrance onto the parking area. Nothing to keep the babies from going out to meet incoming cars. Where is the safety officer?

Not that the babies have been left free to roam. We have been putting an old shutter across the entrance – kind of like a cattle guard. The babies don’t like crawling over it. However, it doesn’t always stop them. Piling the bottom 2 drawers of the dresser across the entrance seemed more secure, but they can squeeze through that too. One turn away from the babies by the busy caretaker and they’re out!

What to do???

A donation came in last month that we decided to use for a gate. Now a gate doesn’t sound like much of a project, but in Malawi, things (including our patio fence) are built out of cement. Installing the gate involved 3 workmen, chisels, a sledgehammer, and new cement! But when the dust settled we had a nice secure gate to hold the babies in. They don’t mind at all because they can climb on it, see through it, and somewhere in their unconscious feel a little safer. We are happy knowing they can’t get out to greet incoming cars. So everybody’s happy!

Do you suppose we can now consider ourselves a “gated community”? It’s always nice to move up in the world!

Rescued From the Pit

2009-07-23T12:24:00.000+02:00

“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

2009-07-17T13:19:00.000+02:00

"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

2009-07-06T11:51:00.000+02:00

“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

2009-07-02T11:41:00.000+02:00

“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.”

Harvest

2009-06-22T11:41:00.000+02:00

Question: How is Malawi most like Iowa ?
Answer: Corn is king!
Maize is the miracle plant introduced to save Sub-Saharan Africans from starvation. In good harvest seasons it has done just that. However, like most transplants, corn has brought along with in several unforeseen consequences.
For starts, in most of Malawi corn has become so dominant that crop diversity is rare and nutrition is severely compromised. Many Malawians eat maize porridge for breakfast, a few greens with maize cakes (n’sima) for lunch, and n’sima with a little meat (when available) for dinner. (On the cob it looks and tastes like what we know as field corn.)
So, what did we at the Crisis Nursery decide to do with our vacant lot while planning for our proposed building? Plant Corn! Of course, everyone here knows that the soil has become so depleted that “no fertilizer—no maize”!
Last fall fertilizer cost about $75.00 per 50 kg bag. (up from about $50 the year before) and we needed 2 different bags. Thankfully, special vouchers are available for the poor and we received two vouchers on behalf of the babies.
Come harvest time last month, a work crew from the Nursery descended on our modest plot to pick it clean. We then returned to the Nursery where the nannies painstakingly removed the corn from the cob—kernel by tough little kernel. The kernels were then spread out to dry before being taken to the local maize mill for grinding into flour. (Many villagers still rely on mortar and pestle for this process.)
Back in the Nursery again the Maize flour is boiled up to make n’sima which our hard working staff enjoys with a relish of greens, beans, and occasionally beef cubes. Won’t you join us for lunch some day?

The New Truck

2009-06-11T11:22:00.000+02:00

Life is hard on vehicles in Malawi. The roads are pot holed and rough. Trips into the bush to pick up and discharge babies almost always require travel on “roads” that we consider paths. They are dusty, rutted, rocky, and often don’t even look like a road. I have had several trips that I thought would be impossible for any vehicle. Nevertheless, over the mud holes and down the ravines to the villages we go.

Our Land Cruiser was starting to need frequent repairs, often costing as much as $700.00 a month. It was killing our budget and we were never sure whether the vehicle would be able to make the trip. What would we do if we got stuck in the bush and had a tiny baby with us? Not nice to contemplate.
So with funding from our friends in the Presbytery of Northern New York, we purchased a new truck. Now, such a purchase is never simple in Malawi. The paperwork is long and complicated. There are licenses, certificates of fitness, and insurance. And then there are the taxes. Malawi charges about 90% tax. Yes, that is correct 90%! This is painful. The cost for our new truck had to be almost doubled. OUCH!! There are certain instances where the tax can be waived, but we didn’t qualify. Only single cab trucks are eligible. However, we can’t function with a single cab as we always take a driver, nurse, social worker, caretaker, and baby –at minimum. Hard to fit 5 or more into a single-cab. Paul has written letters, visited government ministers, faxed, re written letters, and made endless phone calls. He has invoked the powers that be in the Synod. All to no avail—so far! Nevertheless there is still a glimmer of hope for duty-free status.

So, thanks to the generosity of folks at home, the Nursery now has a 4x4/double-cab/diesel pickup truck at double cost. We call it “The Lone Ranger” (it’s a Ford Ranger), and we love it. It doesn’t break down. We can leave the windows closed when it is hot and dusty and let the air conditioner filter and cool the air. The babies (and we) no longer cough from the dust. The lights and fans work. And it has working shock absorbers. Wow. We have never had it so good.

Here at the Nursery there was singing, clapping, and general joyousness when the truck arrived. We gathered around and had prayers for those who drive it, for those who ride in it, and for those who provided the funds. We are all really happy that it is here.

Elections

2009-05-28T11:27:00.000+02:00

”MALAWI HAS SPOKEN” “IT’S A LANDSLIDE” Such were the headlines in the Malawi Papers on May 21, 2009 two days after the third multiparty elections in the nation’s history. The incumbent president, Dr. Bingu Wa Mutharika, was the decisive victor with a margin far greater than anyone could have predicted.

Democracy is still young and vulnerable in Malawi. Only 6% of the population has electricity, which among other things means that information through mass communication is available to only a minority. It seems that votes are often cast for the candidate who gives away the most fertilizer, pays for the most funerals, or hands out the most Tee shirts.

Nevertheless Malawi Democracy is a bright spot in Sub Saharan Africa. The elections were free, fair, and peaceful. While the opposition felt obligated to protest the results there seems little substance to their claims of vote rigging. In order to prevent people from voting more than once, voter’s index fingers are dipped into indelible ink at the polls, and voter registration cards are necessary. To be sure, there were glitches (like the ballot box at one polling station that was blown off the table, spilling it’s contents across the field). The polls open at 6:00 a.m. yet some folks showed up as early as 3:30 a.m. to get in line. Others waited until long after the 6:00 p.m. closing time to get their chance to cast a ballot. Most Malawians are rightly proud of the way the election was conducted.

The next five years will be a critical time. Will president Mutharika bow out gracefully after completing his second term in office? Will the ruling party use its majority to govern responsibly, continuing the battle against corruption and toward self-sufficiency? What will be the future of this impoverished nation, her people, her leaders, and her democratic institutions? It is ultimately Malawian resolve, not Western money, that will make the difference.

Naomi's Follow Up

2009-05-22T11:01:00.000+02:00

The first time we tried to discharge Naomi we decided it would be unconscionable to leave her at her house. Her mom had no job, no way to feed her 3 other children, and was sick with HIV. Her father had simply “disappeared.” Realizing that leaving Naomi there was not safe, we brought her back to the Nursery. Five months later, we decided to try discharging her again. This time things were better. Mom had a job selling vegetables at the market, she was doing well on HIV treatment, and she wanted her daughter back. So, we left Naomi at home.

It has now been 2 weeks since we discharged Naomi to her mother--time for her first follow up visit. I dreaded what we would find. Naomi’s house is a cement room with no windows, no plumbing, no electricity, and no beds or other furniture. Was her mother able to cope? Was she feeding Naomi? Was she bathing her and keeping her warm on our cold fall nights? Would we find Naomi to be OK? My heart was in my throat as we started on our way.

When we pull up to Naomi’s house, there she is—sitting with her mom and brother and sister. They are sorting rape (a salad green) and tying it into bundles for sale at the market. Naomi is happy. Her mom looks well. Naomi stares at us tentatively and comes to us only reluctantly. She clings to her mom for comfort. The best sign we could possibly see!

Naomi has not gained any weight in the 2 weeks she has been home. She does not like the well water her mother has access to. If mixed with formula powder she will drink the water, but not at other times. This is a major concern, especially when the weather is hot and she needs a drink. Naomi will drink the water from the community tap; however, her mother can’t afford it. Well water costs 100 kwacha a month (66 cents). Water from the tap costs 200 kwacha a month ($1.20). We advised her to borrow tap water for Naomi until June 1st. By that time we are hoping the local church in her village will help support the family by paying for them to receive water from the village tap. This way Naomi will have water to drink and will not become dehydrated.

Could we (or you) afford to cover Naomi’s water bill? Of course. But this will not help Malawians to take care of Malawians. We want the village church to become involved with this family because they can provide emotional and spiritual support in addition to water. Maybe this will help enable Naomi to stay at home with her mother and siblings. We hope so.

Coffee Morning

2009-05-18T12:13:00.000+02:00

“Tamupokererani ku Muzuzu Crisis Nursery Kofi wa mulenji uno!” Welcome to the Mzuzu Crisis Nursery “Coffee Morning”. A “coffee morning” in Malawi is not quite what we expected. Sounds like a straightforward open-house, bake sale, right? Wrong!

It was the staff’s idea and they were excited about this “second annual” fundraising project. In preparation, the grounds were swept, weeded, and tidied. The floors were scrubbed, walls washed, and windows cleaned. Everyone was given a job. Then, in addition to dozens of posters, over 100 personal invitations were printed, signed, and hand delivered.

I (Darlene) was elected to bake all the fancy cakes for auction. YIKES! Fortunately our neighbor had a frosting bag and I set to work on this daunting task 2 days prior the big morning. Baking 7 cakes, six dozen cookies, three dozen muffins, and two trays of fudge became my fulltime job. The day before the event, several of the nursery staff stayed up until midnight cooking samosas. We made snacks to sell as well. The nursery was a beehive.

Coffee Morning morning dawned bright and fair. (Thank goodness it didn’t rain). People began arriving at 9:30 for our official 10 o’clock opening. Folks took tours of the Nursery and enjoyed just visiting and socializing. By 10:15 the program began with prayer, scripture, brief meditation, and song. Then, after Paul gave a welcome in Tumbuka & a brief history of the Nursery, we heard from our guest speaker.

By 10:45 the auction started! It began slowly, with the biggest cake going for cheap (bummer). However, the American chocolate chip cookies were a hot item, as were the donated cinnamon buns and custard pie. The bidding got more intense; with the biggest price ($21.00) going for my small cake that said “Joy”. The woman who bought it had a daughter named Joy. You never know! My fudge, however, was a flop. No one even knew what it was.

As a part of the event, everyone who attended brought a gift for the nursery. We ended up with plastic pants, diapers, Vaseline, soap, formula, milk, likuni phala (cereal), sippy cups and some clothes. Lots of helpful stuff!

All in all, our morning was a huge success. The nursery got a lot of good publicity and we actually made some money (over $700 in cash and in-kind donations). The staff was exhausted, but felt renewed in mind and spirit. Our management team is keenly aware that Malawi and Malawians themselves need to do more to help support the ministry of the Crisis Nursery. We’re already talking about what we’re going to do next year!

Naomi Goes Home

2009-05-06T09:03:00.000+02:00

Naomi is now 15 months old. She eats by herself. She walks, and is the ringleader in baby led charges from the dining room to the toy chest. Her mother says she wants her back. Naomi is ready for discharge.

We tried to discharge Naomi a few months ago but it was a disaster. Her mother was sick, had no job, and no way to buy food. She also had 3 other children who didn’t have enough to eat. There was no food in the house and no way to procure any that we could see. After reviewing the situation we brought Naomi back to the nursery.

Now Naomi’s mom is feeling better and has a small job selling vegetables at the market. The oldest child is in school, and the other 2 are looking better cared for. Naomi’s mother is ready to take her back.

We left Naomi with clothes, blankets, a mat to sleep on, canned formula, and a mosquito net. Naomi’s mom can’t read so we showed her how to make formula and left a sippy cup for her to mix it in. Then we said good bye.

This is the part of the job that I find the most difficult. This is where I lose my objectivity. How can this woman living with 3 other children in a cement hut with no windows, no running water and no electricity possibly care for this baby? But she will probably do fine. We will visit her every 2 weeks just to check and make sure there are no problems. At that time we can leave more formula with her. She lives just 20 minutes from the nursery so it will be easy.

Malawian ways are not American ways. This is a different land where things are done differently. Mom was wearing a big smile when we pulled away, and Naomi, who is very shy, was not upset at all. I think she knew that she was home.

Sister Mumba

2009-04-28T16:12:00.001+02:00

We are strangers in a strange land. Nowhere is that more obvious than in speech. We speak English. The Malawians here in the north speak Tumbuka. There are no similarities between the two.

So how do we communicate? Well, English is the official language, but that message hasn’t hit the villages yet. Also, our nannies here at the nursery aren’t on the government language plan either. So that means lots of Tumbuka.

Occasional tutoring got us started and resulted in some successes. The nannies are always willing to help, and ever patient with our verbal experiments. One morning I entered the dining room, looked around cheerily and asked how things were going at home. What the nannies heard was: “how are things at the frog house”. Ten startled faces told me something went wrong there. Then we all had a good laugh.

Helpful observers tell us that we will “pick up the language” if we are here long enough. But the real story is that if we don’t work hard, we won’t speak Tumbuka. Occasional tutoring wasn’t working well. Enter Sister Mumba.

Sister Mumba is a nun at St. Peter’s Academy down the road from us. She has taught for years. She laughs a lot. And she gives homework.

Dutifully we go to Sister Mumba several times a week for lessons. She not only teaches Tumbuka, she teaches cultural appropriateness. Never go into a room and begin talking business first thing. Always take time for the proper greetings. Greet, ask about a person and their family, be human. Business happens only after the personal side of life. Not an easy lesson for those of us who like to get down to business.

But we press on, trying our best to fit in and learn the language. Wish us luck. Tiowonanenge sono sono. (See you later)

Well Babies

2009-04-20T14:06:00.000+02:00

Here in Malawi it’s hard to get routine physical exams. Well-baby visits are a luxury we simply don’t have. However, last week a medical team from the US led by Dr. Ken Root was able to do just that. His team of 2 doctors, an occupational therapist, 3 medical students, a pre-med student, and a Malawian dental technician examined 15 babies and 10 staff members in one afternoon. Whew!

All the babies had heights, weights and complete physical exams done. We weigh babies every week, but the team came with growth charts for each baby, so we can start tracking the weights and following them on a graph. Fantastic! Developmental screenings were done on those we felt had problems. The team was organized, calm and thorough. Everything went smoothly. It was like a dream day at the pediatrician.

What did they find? Generally healthy and happy babies!! A few had fungal diaper rashes. But for the most part everyone was OK. Developmentally, we had one baby with a tight hip and were shown how we can exercise and stretch it to gain normal function. Everything was fixable. It was good news for us all.

When our team examined our staff they treated everything from high blood pressure to a toothache. Maladies are very difficult to treat here and long term ones present special problems because medications are often not available. However, the team came equipped with medications as well as expertise. We got creams for the fungi and medications for the staff. Everyone got what they needed.

All in all it was an amazing day. We were grateful for the time, energy, and expense it took the team to do this for us. We are healthier for it. And we had a great time!

Infection Control

2009-04-07T09:50:00.000+02:00

How do you keep 15 babies living in one house, healthy? They all crawl around on the floor and love to taste each other’s snacks. They all play with the same toys. They do not sneeze into tissues. What’s a mother to do?

The first thing you see when you visit the Nursery is our handwashing station. All who enter here must wash their hands at the door—or else! This goes for visitors and staff alike. No exceptions. Hands carry lots of germs and those same germ-bag hands also carry babies. So when you come to visit, “Zie vill vash!”

The next step is shoe removal. Since most of our babies are crawling on the floor we don’t welcome any outside dirt inside. So take your shoes off at the door. Regulars have their own special shoes that they wear inside. As a visitor you are treated to a box full of flip flops that you can choose from, at the door. You must wear these flip flops or you will be denied entrance to the holy of holies. They are washed every few days and put in the sun to dry so we know they are clean. The sun hates germs and kills them by the gazillions.

Our floors are all linoleum, and easy to clean. They get washed twice a day with bleach and soapy water. This makes a good surface to crawl on and play on. But most babies are small and only sit in one place so we have 2 thin mattresses in the center of the room for their sitting pleasure. The sheets on these mattresses get changed a lot when accidents occur. Even sitting babies are messy.

In the same room is the toy dresser. The bottom 2 drawers, which are really big wicker boxes, contain the toys. These boxes are taken out when babies are present (which is almost all the time). The babies empty them, play with the toys, and then play with the boxes. The toys are all washable plastic and are washed several times a week and dried (you guessed it) in the sun.

The babies themselves are bathed daily, at least once. Sometimes another bath or two is necessary. Their clothes are changed as necessary. And since we have 3 full bathrooms it is not unusual to have a nanny in the shower. Accidents happen.

We have a washer and dryer – a real luxury. In sunny weather the laundry is hung on the line and only has to go in the dryer for 10 minutes to kill the phutsi fly eggs that may have been laid on them. During rainy season the dryer is going almost nonstop to try and keep up. We are thankful for the washer and dryer. We use cloth diapers and fifteen babies make a lot of laundry.

Do people ever complain about the rules? Sometimes. We had a man who wouldn’t take his shoes off, so he was told he couldn’t come in. Once we had a guy with a wooden leg who couldn’t take his shoe off! We gave him a clean plastic bag to put over his shoe and in he came. So when you come to visit, don’t expect a bye on Attila-the-Matron’s infection control rules.
Do the babies ever get sick? Yes. But we do the best we can.

Tsala's Follow Up

2009-03-24T15:12:00.000+02:00

On Tuesday (March 17) three weeks after she was admitted to the hospital’s special nutrition unit, Tsala and her Grandmother returned to the village. Darlene (RN), Anna (RN), & Veronica (Supervisor) went to visit her on Wednesday and were encouraged to see marked improvement. Thanks to a generous donation to the Crisis Nursery we were able to supply Tsala with 12 cans of Lactogen , enough formula to last her about a month.

Tsala’s grandmother is doing her best. However, Tsala’s stepmother will have nothing to do with the baby, and her father has refused to give money for her support. So the Grandmother has asked permission from the father to move with Sara back to her home village, several hours away. We think that the grandmother is Tsala’s best hope. With even a little support from her father we believe that Tsara will make it. In a few weeks we will check on her again to evaluate her progress.

This picture is of beautiful Tsara at her first follow-up visit on Wednesday. Pray that she will again be a bright and well cared for baby.

Poverty

2009-03-17T13:11:00.000+02:00

Poverty,
like promiscuity,
can
pervert more than eyes can see.
Some—thing,
deeper than any—thing,
when undernourished,
Stops
simply growing
{simply saying it poorly}!
Some—how
seeds
of curiosity & creativity,
reason & rationality,
inventiveness & individuality,
remain
ungerminated
beneath layers of
superstition,
repetition,
& conformity.
What can
penetrate such perverting poverty
Save
the Light
of the World?

Paul Heller

Anniversary

2009-03-09T13:42:00.000+02:00

Twelve hour days, no time off, malaria dragging down staff and babies, short-staffed due to vacations, financial worries – it was all getting to us. So last weekend (thanks to a generous friend) we stole away to a resort 1 ½ hours from here to stay the whole weekend. This was only the second full weekend we have had off since August. It was time for a break.

The Chinteche Inn is a beautiful resort on the shores of Lake Malawi. Upon our arrival we were met with a cool drink of orange and passion fruit juice with ICE! Then we were shown to our cottage on the lake with a private patio and a kitchenette. The lake was sparkling, the cottage perfect.

For 2 glorious days we focused our energy on sleeping, eating, and eating some more. The food itself made us feel like we had somehow suddenly left the country, and we relished every bite. Chicken stuffed with feta cheese, roast beef, salad with black olives, and a wonderful vegetable soup. A chocolate something for dessert topped with vanilla ice cream sealed the meal. It was fabulous!

The best part was Saturday night – our actual anniversary date. We celebrated our 38 years together with dinner on the beach. A private table, complete with white linen table cloth and candles, was set out near the water. Four torches lighted the surrounding area. The gently blowing tropical breeze, waves lightly lapping on the shore, night bugs softly trilling, and the expansive African night sky made it was heavenly. Unforgettable!

We swam, kayaked, walked, ate, and rested. It seems we didn’t realize how tired we were until we got a chance to stop. Then we crashed for 2 days, taking a much needed leave and enjoying every minute of it.

So here we are back in Mzuzu starting our 39th year together. Learning a new culture, a new language, a new life style has its difficult moments. But it’s an adventure that we’re doing together with your help. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tsala

2009-02-26T15:20:00.000+02:00

It’s the middle of the day. The visitors at the gate arrive without warning, piling onto the porch in a wet, tired heap. A mother, nursing infant, toddler, 8 yr old and grandma. We recognize (barely) the toddler and realize with dismay that is Tsala (pronounced Sara). Tsala was discharged 3 months ago, a happy, healthy 14 month old.

Today Tsala is crying, miserable, wet and cold. Her hands and feet are swollen, as is her belly. The rest of her looks puffy. She is suffering from kwashiorkor, a protein deficiency. She has been fed nothing but a small amount of nsima , a maize flour mixture, for several months. Nsima contains no protein, no fat, nothing that will nourish a growing child. Starving is a long, slow, miserable process that causes a child to suffer horribly. Tsala is starving

Her family has walked a great distance in the rain to get here. Tsala’s father has remarried (her mother is dead) and his new wife has a new baby and several children of her own. These children got fed, but Tsala received little. Seeing her desperate condition , her aunt took her in. But Tsala’s aunt has problems of her own and can no longer afford to feed Tsala herself. She receives no money from Tsala’s dad. As a last resort she brought Tsala to our nursery, hoping for some help.

We bathed and fed Tsala and gave her clean , dry clothes. The family was given food while we deliberated. What to do? We were full and could not take Tsala back. And all our admissions have to come through social welfare. We can’t provide Tsala’s aunt with food for the foreseeable future. Whole villages would be at our doorstep.

We decided to take Tsala and her grandma to Central Hospital, which has a feeding program. They will keep them there until Tsala is better. They have a nutritionist who develops a feeding program for each child admitted. It includes high quality porridge and lots of milk. Tsala was admitted the same afternoon.

But then what? Tsala’s father is refusing to provide money to feed her. He refused to see us when we went to his home to talk to him. He didn’t even visit Tsala in the hospital or provide food for his own mother who was staying with his child while she was there. This is a difficult situation that for us is hard to even comprehend.

Tsala is recovering now but we don’t know what is going to happen to her. The story is so common here – no food, no money, no one acting responsibly toward their own children. It’s heartbreaking. We hope Tsala will be better cared for in the future. But we just don’t know.

Valentine's Day

2009-02-23T11:01:00.000+02:00

Valentine’s Day is barely noticed in Malawi, but we were determined to celebrate anyway. So, we made plans to go out for dinner at the “MzoozooZoo”, a local hangout where you can actually get a hamburger—a real meat hamburger on a real bun with real Heinz ketchup! This is a rare treat.

Saturday dawned bright and fair and we worked at home all morning. In the afternoon we would take a walk to the reservoir, then go to the “Zoo” at around 5 p.m. for an early dinner, rounding out the day by watching a romantic episode of “24” on DVD. (?!)

At 2 pm the nursery calls – sick baby. Alick has a temperature of 102.8 F. and is not eating or drinking. Sounded like malaria. No Malawian management staff is on duty at the Nursery this weekend. We are on our own. I drive to the nursery, pack a bag for Alick, and drive to the hospital with Beka (our 19 year old U.S. volunteer who is working at the Nursery and living with us for 5 weeks).

The clinical officer attends to Alick after a remarkably short waiting time. He orders blood tests and then leaves to try to find the lab technician. A drive to several locations around town fails to turn up the technician. The substitute is away as well. After 45 minutes the "doc" returns to say he will treat the baby as if he has malaria and not worry about a lab test. Fine with me!

The hospital pharmacy is closed, so I am given quinine pills in a little bag and paracetamol liquid. There is no Amoxicillin and the nurse (without asking anyone) substitutes Chloramphenicol instead. (Yikes!) We drive home. Setting up the medication chart, giving the medicine and instructing the nanny on how to continue Alick’s treatment, takes another hour.

It is now 5:30 pm. No problem. Beka and I go home, change, pick up Paul and head out for dinner.

We arrive at the Zoo to find a group of 8 travelers waiting for food. Not a good sign. An hour later our food has not arrived at the table. Then, just before it is to be served, the power goes out. No problem, EXCEPT that our computer back at the nursery is plugged in!
Now in Malawi, when the electricity returns, sometimes it is with an enormous power surge that renders the average “surge protector” useless. We cannot risk leaving our computer plugged in. Immediately we decide to return to the Nursery so the cook packs up our food and off we go.

Arriving back at the nursery—surprise, surprise! The power is on. In fact (uncharacteristically) it had never gone off! Ahhhh yes! I check on Alick (still feverish), go over the medication schedule with the nanny once more, and we go home. Beck stays to use the computer to call her family in Washington State.

At home I light some candles for effect, and we eat our cold burgers. Just as we finish, the power goes off, and with it our romantic background music. Paul returns to the nursery to collect Beka while I stack the dishes in the sink. It is 9 pm, our usual time for lights out anyway. So, I go to bed with my Valentine.

(I did not sleep well that night because I was doing a lot of praying for little Alick. Good news. After several days of medicine and TLC his is fully recovered and flirting with all the nannies. Alick is pictured here)

The Dresser

2009-02-12T11:30:00.001+02:00

The Nursery has just been given the gift of a new dresser. This is no ordinary dresser, as we designed it ourselves. Nice!!

We wanted big drawers to hold big toys. The drawers needed to be easily removable so we can take them out and use them as toy holders in the play room. But what if one of the older babies started using it as a jungle gym and got crushed under mountain of toys and drawers? Above all we needed the dresser to be BIG to avoid the inevitable.

We waited four months for our dream dresser. It was worth the wait.

Monday the dresser arrived. It’s even bigger than we imagined. Made from some of the hardest wood in the world, it is so heavy that tipping over will never be a problem. The wicker drawers are hand woven and sturdy enough to take plenty of use and abuse from the little ones.

The babies love their new dresser. Maybe that’s because all their toys are in there. They play in the boxes and use them as a train or car. They empty them out and get in. They push them around. It’s a blast to watch all the playing going on.

At last, we have been able to organize the play room and we love it. No more storage problems. Best of all, I’m glad to report that we are all having a good time.

Malaria

2009-02-10T09:44:00.000+02:00

It was late Saturday evening at the end of a long weekend of meetings and supply gathering in the capital city, Lilongwe. All our “Katundu” was packed and ready to go for our planned departure early on Monday morning. At midnight I (Darlene) awoke with an uneasy stomach. No big deal – must have been something I ate. However, the queasiness persisted until I finally vomited. OK – now I can get some sleep. Since Paul & I had both eaten the same thing over the past 24 hours he began to worry that his turn was next.

But soon Paul was sawing logs while, for me, sleep refused to return. As the night wore on I began to vomit more and more frequently. Vomiting was soon accompanied by diarrhea. Each episode got worse, more intense. Then sweats and chills started. Paul mixed up some oral rehydration salts for me to sip but they wouldn’t stay down. By 7 am I was weak and depleted, barely able to stand.

On the advice of the nurse at the Lilongwe Crisis Nursery we went to the City Center Clinic – a private health care facility in Lilongwe. Paul helped me get to the waiting area where I lay down on a bench. A nurse came and brought me to an exam room in a wheelchair. It took all my effort just to sit up.

After being seen by the doctor I was given anti nausea and anti diarrhea medication. Then I was admitted to a private room with a bathroom! Soon a nurse came in to start an IV. After cleansing the site with purple alcohol from a dishwashing soap bottle, she began a very fast glucose drip. All I cared about was to get some sleep.

Before long, the lab work was completed and the doctor returned to inform me that I had contracted malaria—“plus two.” (It goes from +1 to +4). He said they would administer a quinine drip and I would feel much better soon. Good! I hoped he was right.

Soon after he left, I vomited again.

But after that, I slept and dripped all day long. By evening I was feeling better. I managed a few bites of supper with Paul’s encouragement. I could even walk by myself, although I felt fuzzy, out of it. As the nurse lowered the mosquito net and hung another bag of IV fluid I was thankful to be so comfortable and well cared for. But then I realized that I couldn’t hear the fan running in the corner, or the bugs trilling outside. I couldn’t hear anyone coming into the room. “Oh yes, that’s the quinine.” said the nurse. So I began to worry about going deaf. Nevertheless, I slept all night as the quinine dripped.

In the morning I ate a small portion of oatmeal and was discharged. My medication was changed from quinine to LA (lumefantrin and artemether) which does not cause hearing loss. On the 5 hour trip home to Mzuzu, I sept.

So far, I have missed a full week of work and a lot of meals. The Malaria itself is cured but has left me anemic. It will no doubt be at least another week before I am back running on all cylinders. In the meantime, I am more thankful than ever for modern medical care, and that I am privileged to have access to it. I am ever grateful for a loving husband that stays by my side no matter what.

Malaria is nasty business. In fact, malaria is the number one killer in Africa. Number ONE—ahead of AIDS and TB. And it affects everyone. It strikes people in the bush sleeping on mats, as well as people living in well built houses, sleeping under bed nets, and taking preventative anti-malarial drugs. It is a huge economic drag on sub-Saharan Africa, causing incalculable loss of work time. Malaria can snuff out the life of a baby in less than 24 hours. It is a devastating disease. Research being done to develop a preventative vaccine for Malaria needs our financial, political and prayer support.

PS
Pictures are of a baby room with mosquito nets up, and Darlene at work.

Reality Check

2009-01-28T17:21:00.000+02:00

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

2009-01-22T10:56:00.000+02:00

“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

2009-01-16T17:23:00.000+02:00

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

2009-01-07T11:29:00.000+02:00

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

2009-01-01T18:50:00.000+02:00

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

Incarnation

2008-12-19T17:40:00.000+02:00

Incarnation
(On receiving the Lord’s Super with an Anglican congregation in Lilongwe.)

Today Jesus stuck in my throat.
I had a hard time swallowing
His body and blood.
In spite of the user-friendly-melt-in-your-mouth wafer,
Jesus just wouldn’t go down smoothly.
It’s happened before,
this experience of finding God
hard to swallow.
But never so literally.
Always before
it was some bony doctrine,
some lumpy theology,
some sticky legalism
that got caught in my throat.
Occasionally, I would even throw up,
regurgitating some non-digestible, half-baked
“Christian Mandate;”
like
“women should shut up and serve,”
or
“everybody but me and my kind are doomed to hell in a hand-basket.”
But this was different.
Jesus just sat there on the edge of my esophagus
making no demands.
Simply waiting.
Waiting for me to make up my mind.
Do I swallow His sacrificial love for me?
Do I ingest His word of life?
Do I feed on His living presence in my body?
Or do I choke?
Gulp!
Paul Heller

All Clear

2008-12-11T11:03:00.000+02:00

“Come back in three months and we’ll take another look.” said the pulmonologist last September. He wanted to take another look at the “sinister” spot that showed up in a high resolution CT scan of my right lung.

For three months now we have been waiting. Waiting to see if the “spiculated lesion” is cancerous or not. Waiting to learn if we will stay on in Malawi or return to the States for possible surgery and chemotherapy. Waiting. Will our call from the infant orphans of Malawi extend 3 more months or 3 more years?

If only I could put off the anxiety while we waited. If only I could wait to worry. But fear, like a rudely insistent adolescent, refuses to wait its turn. Being busy at the Nursery helped. Nothing like a gang of little ones with their constant needs and open armed love to provide a time of self-forgetfulness. Nevertheless, the devil would return again to prod me with its pitchfork of fear, especially in the quiet of the night. 3 months or 3 years?

It’s not that God wasn’t surrounding me with offers of personal peace.

For starts, through the gracious hospitality of Doug Tilton (a fellow PCUSA mission co-worker) our two visits to Johannesburg (known not so long ago as the “murder capital of the world”) were delightful! Doug’s apartment not only “turned out to be” within easy walking distance of the hospital, which had been pre-arranged by our insurance, but also close to shopping, and restaurants. For the next three months I liberated a button from his desktop which said: “I will not obsess. I will not obsess. I will not obsess.”

What’s more, prayers were being raised from myriad friends and supporters, with my former work partner lifting me up in fasting & prayer every Wednesday. God was telling me “Do not be afraid.” But I often found myself hard of hearing.

Tuesday morning, on our way the hospital for the “big test” I was startled by the stop sign at the bottom of our street. Below the STOP someone hand painted “Being Afraid.” How much clearer could God’s message be?

“Yet, laying on the table, ready for the scan, my heart beats so hard I’m convinced they can hear it in the next room. 3 months or 3 years?

The scan is over and I jump off the table, go around the corner, and accost the radiologist sitting at his computer. ‘It’s gone.’ he tells me, right on the spot. ‘Completely resolved!’ Weak with relief, I say ‘I feel like hugging you.’ ‘Why not?’ he replies. So we hug, and he congratulates me, and I rush out to tell Paul. We hug, and cry and thank God for his goodness. Now we know. God wants us here for 3 years not just 3 months.”

Thank you! Everything in me says “Thank you!” Angels listen as I sing my thanks. I kneel in worship facing your holy temple and say it again: “thank you!” Thank you for your love, thank you for your faithfulness; Most holy is your name, most holy is your Word. The moment I called out, you stepped in: you made my life large with strength. ….. Finish what you started in me, God. Your love is eternal—don’t quit on me now. (From Psalm 138 The Message)

Prayer Baby - Naomi

2008-12-02T17:12:00.000+02:00

PRAYER BABY: Naomi

Naomi arrived at the Nursery as a neglected, malnourished 6 month old. Today she will be returned to her family as a healthy, happy, ten month old, weighing in at 15 pounds.
Naomi must be returned to her family today in order to make room in the Nursery for another motherless child. Her father has two wives and claims “she is not my child.” Naomi’s mother (who is now able to function fully, thanks to availability of AIDS drugs) wants to please her husband. She says “I don’t want Naomi back.” Malawi Social Welfare says “Naomi cannot be fostered as long as she has two parents who are alive, well, and able to care for her.”
So we are now taking Naomi back to her mother and father with no small amount of concern for her future. Please pray for her protection and that our follow up visits will find her loved and nourished in body, mind, and spirit.

Not so fast!

It is now two hours later and guess what? Naomi is back! When we arrived at her home it was a disaster. Mama has no money, no income and no way to buy food. There are no beds in the house – just the cement floor. There is no water or electricity. Dad got angry when mom said Naomi was coming back, but dad is not around and does not contribute. Naomi’s mother cannot feed the 3 children she has. The police officer (who came with us) and I agreed that leaving Naomi at that house would be a death sentence. Two days ago we accepted a newborn into the nursery because we were planning on having Naomi’s spot. Now we have to keep him in the isolation room because Naomi is back. We have to hire an extra nanny for the newborn because there is no way a regular nanny can add a newborn into her already overloaded number of 6. There is no way we can continue to have the extra nanny on our already overloaded budget. I don’t know what we’re going to do.