Protection and Provision

I’ve gotten in the habit of praying before any trip for God’s protection and provision for me and for all those around me. I’ve seen too many accidents and breakdowns to take God’s care for granted. Thursday night I experienced that care.

I had had a day of speaking in Chuita Presbytery. Rev. Catherine Jailos, my assistant at Chigodi, Mrs. Majamanda, our program director, Thomas, Jean and Chimwemwe were all with me. Thomas and his family were coming down to spend part of Mother’s Day with me on Friday. We dropped Mrs. Majamand near her home, so she could spend the Mother’s Day holiday with her family and were proceeding to Chigodi. It was about 7:30 p.m., dark but past rush hour, so traffic had thinned out. I had heard a noise in the front of the car when we hit bumps and made a mental note to call Sam Ncozana, my friend who helps me with all things car related, in the morning to have him take a look at it. This was a bit disconcerting, since I had just spent a great deal of money on repairing the suspension system and on new tires.

We were about a mile from the turnoff to Chigodi when there was a great thud, and the front passenger side of the car dropped to the road. Metal scrapped the pavements as I gained control of the wheel and steered the car to the right should of the road, across what would have been traffic, if there had been any coming. Praise God there was not. (We drive on the left side of the road in Malawi.) Here there was room to get the car off the road and inspect the problem. This is an isolated area of road, with no houses nearby. Thomas got out, instructing me to stay in the car. While he inspected the car and put out triangles (warning markers), I tried to call Sam for assistance. There was no answer. I texted him. After several attempts, I called Rev. Kadawati, the General Secretary and my friend. He said he would send a Synod driver and mechanic to assist us. Thomas got back in the car and we began to count the things for which we were thankful: We were all safe; no one was coming toward us; no one was close behind us; the car steered to a safe stop; the spot in the road was wide enough for us to be safe; I was not alone; help was on the way; Chimwemwe was asleep and quiet. About this time, Catherine’s phone rang. It was the matron at Chigodi, wondering where we were. Catherine reported the incident to her and she insisted on sending one of the police officers who lives on the Chigodi ground (built-in security for the Center) down to be with us. Apparently the thing that made that spot a good one for stopping is the very thing that makes that spot dangerous – it is isolated.

The policeman arrived in uniform with his gun and his two teenage sons (for help if needed), just as the Synod team arrived. The police officer stood across the road, in the dark, keeping guard, while the mechanic and driver got to work assessing and dealing with the damage. The ball joint had broken, they said. Patrick, the mechanic, put on his work overalls, took out his tool box and a jack, and he and Mr. Banda, the driver, began temporary repairs, to make the car drive able. It took over an hour, lots of pounding, a piece of bull rope, and a great deal of engineering “jury-rigging,” as my father would have called it, but by 9:45, we were ready to roll, at a very slow pace, but ready to move. There were no brakes and everything was held together with rope, so Patrick was going first, alone in my car, at about 20 kilometers an hour. I tried Sam again, to let him know the situation was under control. He was driving down from Zomba and said he would get us along the road. We unloaded the luggage (including 2 live chickens given to us by the Presbytery) from the back of my car into the Synod truck, shifted the sleeping child and the rest of the passengers and the police force into the truck. We, in the truck, turned off at Chigodi to deliver the group that lives there and then catch up with Patrick and follow the car on its slow trek to the Synod. We deposited the Chigodi folks and katundu (stuff), paused to praise God for his care, and then headed back to the road to catch up with Patrick. On the way down the Chigodi road, my phone rang. It was Sam asking if I were driving my car. I said no but Patrick was. He said he was just behind my car and was hoping I was not the lone driver. I assured him I was not and that we would be joining them shortly. As we approached the procession of two cars, Patrick pulled off the road. We all thought something was wrong. Mr. Banda quickly pulled in front of my car and jumped out to see what was wrong. Thomas followed him. After a short time, they came back, laughing. Patrick was nervous about an unknown car (Sam’s) following him, so he pulled off for us to overtake him. He was relieved to learn who was behind him. So we started off again in a slow procession of three – Patrick, the Synod truck, and Sam. It took us almost an hour to get to the Synod, but the blessing was that it was late at night and traffic was very light. We were not causing traffic snarls with our slow pace. We pulled into my yard about 11 p.m. Sam and Patrick talked “repairs” for a few minutes while the rest of us unloaded the truck and put the sleeping child in the house. Sam said he would come in the morning to attend to the car. There were not enough words to thank Patrick and Mr. Banda for all they had done. They just smiled and headed home. They both had to report to work at 7 a.m.

After Thomas and Jean and I got Chimwemwe settled and got a little something to eat, we sat and reviewed again God’s great protection and provision for us that night. We were save; the car was safe; we and the car were back at the Synod; gifted and dedicated mechanics had come to help us; we had our own police protection. God was so faithful to care for us in all these ways and more. I can only praise him for his care. Our God is an answering God!