Maxwell's New Role

Maxwell is my gardener, my driver and my general “go-to guy.” Maxwell got his driver’s license about this time last year so he could take care of the driving while I was recovering from hip replacement surgery and wasn’t allowed to drive. That was a blessing then and it has turned out to be an ongoing blessing. Maxwell loves to drive and he looks for opportunities to do so. He drives to the market to do the shopping. He drives to pay the utility bills. He does the household errands in the car now. These are things he did before, taking a minibus. Now he is able to do them faster and easier. This has helped me greatly, but in our current fuel crisis, his driving has become a blessing.

Fuel is scarce. Sometimes there is diesel and no petrol and sometimes the other way around. Rarely are both available at the same time and when either is available, there are long lines (called queues here, a part of the British influence on language in Malawi). We sit in a queue for 3 to 6 hours, sometimes to be turned away just before reaching the pump because the fuel has run out. This is not my idea of fun. To be honest, it frustrates the daylights out of me. I am not a patient person. I have to leave meetings to queue; I have to miss meetings to queue; I have to rearrange my schedule to queue. I am not the only one. That is the pattern of life for just about anyone who owns a vehicle in Malawi. Some people have waited all night to be first in line, to be certain to get fuel. It’s like Black Friday without the cost benefits. Fuel has increased in price by 33% in the last month. So time is costing even more money.



Maxwell with Charles' son on one of our outings



About 4 months ago, Maxwell offered to do the queuing for me. He is far more patient than I am and it gives him the opportunity to drive more, even if it is an inch at a time as he moves forward in the queue. I wouldn’t have asked him to do this, but I jumped at his offer. And so this has been added to his weekly responsibilities. But I felt guilty about his doing this for me. It seems like it should be my responsibility. It seems morally wrong to have someone else do your waiting for you. There should be some reward for this precious service of waiting. About a month ago, I hit on the reward. While Maxwell was driving for the errands around the city, I reserved the distance driving for myself. I frequently have to drive to presbyteries and churches in rural areas for speaking engagements. I have done that driving myself. I like to drive. About a month ago, Maxwell had queued for 2 consecutive days before he finally got fuel for my trip to Ntcheu Presbytery. It seemed ungrateful of me to then just drive away with the fuel he had worked for. I asked him if he would like to go along, since he had done all the work to make the trip possible. He jumped at the opportunity. He offered to be “the driver.” I reasoned it was also safer for me not to travel alone (not that that ever stopped me before). As it turned out, another pastor went with us, but it was nice to have a “driver” and to be able to focus on what I was to do when I got there and to chat with my colleague and not worry about the usual obstacles on the roads of Malawi. Coming home, Maxwell told us it was his first time in that particular area and he really enjoyed the time to explore as we held our meeting. I had hit on a benefit to both of us.

Saturday, I had to go to Likubula in Mulanje to speak at a retreat. Maxwell spent 3 hours finding fuel for the trip. I asked him if he would like to drive for me, but we were leaving at 6 a.m. He said that was fine with him. He had never been to Mulanje Mountain so this was his opportunity. He drove and while I spoke to the ladies at the retreat, he hiked part way up the mountain (with a guide we arranged for). He was delighted. He is not much of a talker, but on the drive home he regaled me with all he saw on the mountain. I think we have hit on a win-win situation. I get a driver and he gets to drive; I don’t go alone and he gets to see places he has never seen before; he queues for fuel and I don’t feel guilty. We are both enjoying this new arrangement and his added responsibilities.

The Nursery School

Some time ago I wrote about the laying of the foundation of a Child Care Center by the Makogolo congregation, a small congregation just 2 kilometers from Lake Chuita and the Mozambique border, in a district where the HIV infection rate is 25%, well above the 16% national average. Their vision is a Child Care Center that will house a nursery school, an after school program and vocational training programs, to provide for the most vulnerable children and youth in the community.



Chilren prepared to recite



Sunday I was invited to go there again and see the progress they are making. My expectation was that I would see the bricks they have molded and hear more about their construction plans. That was part of their program, but not the major focus. They have not waited for the building to be completed to begin working with the children. They had asked me several months ago to assist them with funds to train three pre-school teachers, to begin the work. I was able, through the support of a church in Pittsburgh, to assist them with that. They began the preschool program 6 weeks ago, under the direction of the teachers who were trained. They hold school in the church building. Sunday, the children and teachers presented a program for me, to see the progress they are making. I was ushered into the church building, a simple structure with concrete and brick benches, nothing moveable. With handmade posters and other local materials, they had converted the space into a classroom with multiple learning centers, nine in total. I was given a tour of the learning areas as each one was explained. The children sat quietly on the concrete benches in the front of the sanctuary, waiting their turn to show me and their parents and guardians, gathered for the event, what they were learning.  After the welcoming speeches, the children stood and sang “We Are Marching in the Light of God,” in English and then in Chichewa, as they marched to the front of the church to recite. They each introduced themselves (in English), giving their names, their villages and their ages. Together they recited the alphabet, counted to 10 and identify parts of their bodies. I sat amazed that these 45 children enrolled from various home situations and religious backgrounds, had learned so much in such a short time. Their creative teachers have made play equipment and educational materials from local resources. The children demonstrated these. The congregation has donated 5 bags of maize, soy beans and peanuts to be ground together to form a fortified porridge for the children to be fed each day. For some of these children that is the only good meal they receive each day.



On the see saw, made of local materials



 After the children’s demonstration, the elders of the church proudly took me to tour the foundation of the building that has been laid for the child care center and the ovens of 60,000 bricks that have been fired and are ready for the building after the rains. They know they will need assistance with some of the construction costs, but they are committed to doing all they can to make this project a success. They are off to a wonderful beginning. This is a faith community that has dreamed big and, with just a little assistance, has begun to make those dreams a reality that is impacting children’s lives. It will be exciting to see what they and God will do next.

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Committee in front of some of the bricks of the oven



To the Lake

Last Saturday one of the cottages (geographic areas) of Limbe church made plans to go to the lake for the day for fellowship. The plan was to leave at 5 a.m. on a chartered bus. It is a 4 hour ride, so they wanted to get as much time at the lake as possible. The organizing committee had planned a breakfast stop about half way and had arranged for a lunch at a resort at the lake and a cookout in the afternoon on the beach before returning to Blantyre. They had prepared food for breakfast and to supplement the cookout food. They had devotions planned and all the recreation equipment packed. Everything seemed to be in place for a great day.

I was at the church before 5 a.m. but there was no one else there. About 5:10, the session clerk came speeding into the parking lot. He jumped from his truck when he saw the empty parking lot and asked desperately, “Did we miss them? Have they gone already?” I told him no one had come yet. We were met by the pastor as we were talking. He lives on the church grounds. He said he had been waiting in his house. He invited us in to wait with him. He reminded us that this was Malawi and people do not keep time well. We all laughed. At 6 a.m. we called the chair of the area to check on them. She said there was some confusion with the bus company but it was being resolved and they should be there in about half an hour. We called again at 7a.m. and they finally arrived at 7:30 a.m. We greeting the chair lady and loaded our things on the bus. We boarded the bus, offered prayer and were ready to head off. But the bus driver did not get in. The chair lady got off the bus and entered into a discussion with the driver. Then she instructed the committee members to distribute the breakfast items for everyone. We ate and waited. And waited and waited. Finally she got on and announced that we needed to unload everything because they were sending a different bus. So we unpacked the bus. The session clerk opened up the church for people to be able to sit and wait.

The senior pastor and I met with her to learn of the problem. The bus driver was insisting that the bus we had was not to make the trip to the lake. First he said there was no fuel then he said the bus was unfit. After several calls to the bus company, it was decided they would send another bus, but it had to be fueled and that would take time with the fuel shortage we are experiencing in the country. The committee thought of cancelling the trip but they would have lost all the money they had invested and the resort had all the food already prepared. That would cost money, too. The children were upset about missing the opportunity to enjoy the lake. (So were some of the adults.) We urged them to push the bus company and to go ahead with the trip. At 10 a.m. the new bus arrived and by 10:15 we were on the road. While we were late in leaving, at least we were going.

The driver sped as fast as was safe, to make up for lost time. Spirits were high again on the bus. Some of the ladies led us in songs. Everyone was having a good time, late in leaving or not. When we came to the first traffic stop (a routine in Malawi), we were singing “It is Well with My Soul.” The police officer looked at the bus, listened for a moment to the singing and waved us on, without asking the driver for any paper work, which is against the routine. At every traffic stop thereafter, the women began to sing “It is Well,” hoping for the same response. It worked until we were about half an hour from the resort. This was not a routine stop. We had been caught speeding. The driver was trying too hard to make up time. The ladies continued to sing, regardless. It was well with our souls, speeding or not.

At the resort, the staff had lunch waiting for us when we arrived at 1:30 p.m. and the fun began. The food was delicious, the devotions inspirational and the games great fun. The kids loved the lake and even got to take a small boat ride. Everything that was planned happened, just in a shorter time frame. At the end of the day, everyone had has such a great time that they forgot about the delay and frustration of the morning. It was well with our souls.



On the lake



Market Day





Mtonda market



Mtonda village is typical of hundreds of villages all through Malawi. Six days of the week, it is a wide spot in the road, with a few shops and services for the locals to buy sugar or to have a phone charged, to have tires serviced or to drink beer. But one day a week, it becomes a thriving business center. That is market day. Everyone anticipates market day for buying and selling and visiting with friends. Vendors come from the outlying area in trucks loaded with charcoal, eggs, produce, plastic plates, bowls and buckets, with used clothing, and electronics. Locals come with freshly butchered meat and fresh fruit and produce in season. Some have “shops” of wood frames and grasses that sit empty along the road until market day. Others sell from the back of their trucks or spread plastic tarps on the ground and display their goods. The number of “portable shops” multiplies to several hundred for that one day each week. Local residents count on this. They walk, ride bikes, or catch rides on the back of the trucks coming to do business so they can shop and visit.  

  

Tuesday is market day in Mtonda. I was in the area for other business and took advantage of the opportunity with Charles and Alinafe and my friend Rev. Njala. Rev. Njala had suggested Tuesday for our trip, knowing it was market day. We carefully drove the car through the crowd conducting business on the edge of the road and the trucks in the center of the road unloading or repacking until we could find a parking spot. Then we joined the fray as we began looking for bargains ourselves. Rev. Njala informed me the area is Ngoni territory (one of the large local tribes) and as such we should experience Ngoni food. That meant pork. I could smell it cooking as I stepped from the car. That was one of the reasons for his wanting to come. He is Ngoni and this is his home. But before we got to the pork, we came to the potatoes, another specialty of the area. Irish (white) potatoes, as they are called here, are expensive in Blantyre. They are much more affordable where they are grown. While I shopped for a small quantity, Rev. Njala negotiated for a 50kg bag and the lady selling carried it to the car, on her head - just part of the service. Cathy, Charles’ daughter, spied the “chips” (French fries) being cooked and stood in line, hoping her father or grandmother would buy some for her. I did. She munched as we walked and shopped. This contributed to the carnival flavor of the outing. The music blaring from the shop selling beer also promoted that atmosphere



Rev. Njala buying his cooked pork



A few yards beyond the potatoes, someone was selling eggs from the back of a pickup truck. I was surprised when the vendor greeted me by name. Then I recognized him as the Ncheu Presbytery treasurer. This is his “other” job, traveling from market to market in the area selling his eggs. We three pastors and the treasurer chatted about Synod events for a few minutes and were preparing to move on when Rev. Njala was greeted by an older gentleman. He introduced us to his uncle. Of course we talked for a while before proceeding to the main event for Rev. Njala – the pork. He negotiated for raw meat as well as cooked, joyfully eating the cooked from a small plastic bag as Cathy had her chips. His mission was accomplished. We finished the tour of the vendors and headed back to the car. Charles stopped to buy cabbage and Alinafe purchased mangos from the session clerk’s wife, who was earning a little extra cash for the family by selling the fruit from their tree. We all came away with some treasure of the day. It was profitable for us and for the vendors – a good market day.



 



Before the Rains

The rains usually begin in southern Malawi about mid November, if it is a good rainy season. This is what people hope for, but there is much more to a good rainy season than hope. People must prepare. There is much to be done before the rains come.



Urban gardens, outside Blantyre



Malawians depend on a garden to secure life. If one lives in the city, the garden supplements life; if one is in the village, the garden sustains life. The garden must be prepared before the rains come. City dwellers have gardens around the city, outside the city, or back in their home villages, but they have a garden. Those in the village use the land around their houses, whether that soil is rocky and hilly or flat and siltish. The usual plot is an acre or more for planting maize and other vegetables that add flavor to life, such as soy beans, pumpkins, cabbage, tomatoes, carrots and peas, but mostly maize. But small plots serve the purpose, too. The ground must be cultivated and ridges built up to hold the seeds when the rains come so the crops get the water and the valleys of the ridges trap the water and they prevent the seedlings from being washed away. This is usually done in October.



Rural garden



Warning rains usually come about two weeks before the heavy rains begin. These are heavy showers that last for 2 to 4 hours, softening the ground, making it ready for the seeds. They may come for two or three days. Those rains came last week. Now people are frantic to get the planning done. Mvano meetings have been suspended for two months, for the planting and then the holidays. This allows women time to be in their gardens, especially of those gardens are in the village. All this work – the ridge building, the planting and later the fertilizing – is done by hand, so there is plenty of work to be done in a short time. About two weeks after the planting, the fertilizer should be applied. The hope is that the timing is right, that the rains have come, and then there is a short break to allow for the fertilizer to be applied. If the rains don’t return, the fertilizer can’t be applied without burning the seedlings. No one will do that. But if the rains don’t come, the seeds will dry up and the crop will be lost anyway. People watch the weather carefully. The timing of the rains is everything.



Burned kiln



In addition to the gardens, rural houses must be prepared for the rains. Many of them have thatched roofs and they must be secured against the heavy rains and the winds. The plastic that goes under the grasses must be whole and tight and the grasses thick and secure. Those with metal roofs need to check for nail holes that may let rain in or allow the wind to tear off the metal sheeting. This is primarily the men’s work. If bricks have been made for new construction, the bricks must be secured against the rains. That means the bricks must be burned. Otherwise all that molding will have been for nothing. Once the bricks are burned, they are safe for later use. Most construction is done with hand-made bricks, burned on site. The bricks form the kiln and the kiln is the bricks. If you have seen the Hallmark Hall of Fame production of “The Last Brick Maker in America,” you have seen the procedure that is followed here by everyone who builds a house or outbuilding or a wall. Securing all this is part of preparation for the rains.

Once the rains come, people can rest but before the rains, there is much to be done. It reminds me of “wintering in” in the northern United States – preparing for the snows. Once they come, little can be done but to trust your preparations and to trust the precipitation’s working on the environment.

Charles' Induction

In August Charles was re-assigned to the Kapeni parish in Ncheu Presbytery, so there was need for an “induction,” or an installation, as it is known in the States. It was scheduled for Oct. 30. With the fuel shortage, I was concerned about being able to get there, but God was good and, after 3 days of Maxwell’s searching, God provided enough fuel for us to go. The “us” included Maxwell and his new wife, Rose. Since he had done all the leg work for the fuel, this was his reward, as he saw it. “Us” also included Rev. and Mrs. Njala, since this is his home congregation.

Maxwell drove. We arrived well before the Presbytery officials did and had time to visit the area. Charles had told me the church was in desperate need of repair, but I didn’t understand how desperate until I saw it. There is no building. A strong storm tore off the roof and the walls collapsed. All that remains standing is the vestry (office) behind the sanctuary and partial walls in the chancel area. The elders have constructed a wood frame to hold some of the salvaged roofing sheets and a tarp. The concrete benches are still in place, so people have a place to sit, at least. Worshippers were assembling in this make-shift sanctuary as we arrived. The surroundings did not affect their enthusiasm for this wonderful event. They were rejoicing at the induction of their pastor. As they prepared, we went to visit Rev. Njala’s home, which is just up the hill from the church. His mother, who is 82, maintains the family home there, raising pigs and doing farming. She may walk with a cane, but she does not let that slow her down. She walked down to the manse before we were able to walk up to see her, then she escorted us to her home. The house is situated on the top of a hill. This area of Malawi is very hilly. The location of the house offers a wonderful view and enjoys any small breezes that may stir. That was a blessing on that very hot day. As we returned to the manse, the Presbytery officials arrived and preparations for the service began. The Presbytery clerk asked that I preach, since I had come all the way from Blantyre. This was his way of honoring me. I’m grateful that I anticipated this as a possibility and had an outline, just in case.

The worship service was a traditional induction service, with preaching, choirs, the constitutional questions for the pastor, charges to the new pastor and to the congregation, gift giving and speeches. The service was late in starting and lasted 4 hours, so we sat in the heat of the day under the tarp and metal roofing, but we praised God there were no walls, so a small breeze provided some relief. I was delighted to be able to share in that moment in Charles’ ministry. I had missed his first induction because of commitments in my own ministry, so this was a blessing. Maxwell served as photographer as well as driver, to record the event.

After the service, the session clerk asked that we wait before walking from the church to the manse for the meal the women had prepared. They had something special they wanted to do. So the pastors remained at the church chatting until the session clerk told me I could proceed. I led the procession, and that is what it became. As I got to the junction of the road from the church to the manse, the women were gathered, singing “hosanna,” as they sing on Palm Sunday. They spread their chitenje on the ground in front of me for me to walk on. They provided a carpet of their clothing from the road right into the house, in honoring welcome to the meal. Once I was inside, they offered the same welcome to each of the pastors as they came. It was the most humbling experience I have had in Malawi. I couldn’t look them in the eye for fear of crying. As we gathered for prayer for the meal, several of the other pastors expressed the same emotion. This is an induction I will long remember, because it was my son’s, because of the lovely, creative location and because of the humbling treatment from the women of the congregation.

Church Alive

Saturday I arrived at Limbe CCAP at 8 a.m. for a mvano (women’s guild) visit to the manse. We were consolidating the visits to one manse so the mvano would not have to travel to my home after visiting the senior pastor’s home. The last activity of the training of the new mvano is a manse visit, where the nearly trained students lead worship and present gifts to the pastor. With the fuel shortage, it made more sense for one person to travel to the group, rather than the group to traveling to one person, since the senior pastor’s house is on the church grounds and my house is 7 miles from the church. The church parking lot was full when I arrived. I was welcomed to the house by the amayi abusa (pastor’s wife) who reminded me that there was a wedding at 7:30 that Rev. Bona was officiating and he would be coming when it was over. The women were gathering and were content to wait patiently. As is the case in all of Malawi, time is not a great issue. At Limbe, people try to be on time, but it doesn’t always happen and they are good about waiting.

There were 33 women who had been studying for 4 months to become mvano. This was the last activity before their graduation. Sunday they would be inducted into the mvano and be given their uniforms during the morning worship service. But for Saturday, they were learning to care for the pastor and his/her home. They had come with a short worship service prepared, all led by the students and they had brought gifts for the manses (both of them), to show their care for the pastors. So it was an official program, but one that would hold until the senior pastor finished with his responsibilities. As they waited, they gathered chairs and took seats on the porch and patio in front of the manse, some sitting in the shade and others in the sun. October and November are our hottest months, so by 8 a.m. the temperature is already up to 80 or above, so this was no small gesture of caring. Once everyone was seated, one of the students began to sing, inviting the rest to join in. For half an hour we sang as we waited for Rev. Bona. The time went quickly. The spirit was joyful.

 Rev. Bona arrived with the session clerk about 8:45. The session clerk reminded the chair of the mvano that there was another wedding yet that morning that Rev. Bona was to officiate so he would not stay long after the function. Actually the second wedding was scheduled to begin at 8:30, but no one really expected that to happen, so they weren’t all that concerned. The mvano program would not be rushed. (Rev. Bona does most of the weddings because they are in Chichewa and my Chichewa is not good enough for officiating. When weddings are done in English, I officiate.)

The mvano students began their program. The singing continued with a choir and a duet. The preaching was well done and then they presented gifts to the pastors – rice, cooking oil, and chickens. This is the common expression of care and support. These are the luxury items in the diet of life here. This is the menu for celebrations and guests. All of this was followed by speeches by the mvano leadership, the session clerks and the pastors. Nothing was rushed. After the closing hymn and benediction, Rev. Bona thanked them all again on behalf of both of us, and excused himself to go to the second wedding. It was 9:50 a.m. The second wedding would be underway by 10 a.m. and no one would complain. As we had been meeting at the manse, I could see the parking lot empty of cars of one group of worshippers and fill with the second group’s; everyone was in place.

The mvano were not leaving. After some drinks of tobwa (local sweet beer – non alcoholic), they were headed to the church hall to set up for their fundraiser on Sunday, a Malawian style yard sale to be held after church. They had plenty of work yet to do. They had to have everything done before 2 p.m. when the choirs came for their rehearsals. There was much more activity for the day, a somewhat typical day at Limbe, a church that is alive.