Precious

Precious arrived on Tuesday. Precious is my son Charles’ second child, a beautiful 6 pound boy. We have been awaiting his arrival. He was named shortly after his parents knew he was coming. This is a common name in Malawi, for a girl or a boy. He was three weeks overdue and we were praying diligently for him and for his mother, Alinafe, who was struggling as she waited, anxious that the baby was well. That is a major concern here in Malawi when delivery is late. The doctor decided to induce labor. This, too, is anxiety producing in Malawi, but all went well.

Alinafe went to her doctor’s appointment at 9 a.m. on Monday knowing that this was a possibility. She called me about 9:30 to tell me that the doctor wanted to admit her and induce. We had talked about this, but there was still anxiety in her voice. I assured her all would be fine and that I was on my way. Charles was with her, so she was not alone.  She is much more like a daughter to me than a daughter-in-law, so I was not surprised that she wanted me there. As she was getting settled in the labor area of Blantyre Adventist Hospital, she heard a nurse talking to another patient who had been induced and the labor had not started. The nurse assured her that was nothing all that unusual. Inducing does not always work but there is always a C-section. That was no comfort to Alinafe. We prayed and that helped her a bit. The nurse prepped her and they began an IV drip. About an hour later she sent me home. She said she was fine; Charles would stay, and this might take time. So off I went, to work at home and to wait for a call. It didn’t come, so about 6 p.m. I called Charles. He said nothing was happening but minor contractions and that he would call when he had news. He is a man of few words, so I knew not to push for details; there would be none. I checked again about 10 p.m. and the story was the same. But at 12:30 a.m. I got a call from a breathless son proclaiming, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” He instructed me to come at once.

Only in Malawi does the grandmother get preferential treatment from the hospital staff at 1 a.m. when she wants to see her new grandson. Security greeted me and ushered me to the maternity ward. There was a beaming mother and a proud father. He was not only proud of his son, the pray of his heart, but of himself for being there for the delivery, not a typical Malawian father’s place. I was proud of him, too. He is quiet and modest and this was a real stretch for him, but it was what Alinafe wanted and he was able to do it. When I walked into the room, Charles was holding the baby and immediately handed him to me. There I stood, holding this tiny life, less than an hour old. As I looked at his perfect little fingers wrapping around mine, all I could think of was the David’s words from Psalm 139.

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.

 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

I knew that full well as I looked at that precious little one. Precious he is!

Precious at just a few hours old. Yes, a boy, but a pink hat. This is Malawi. Color is not important

Climate Change and Much More

What can the average person in poor Malawi do to address climate change? That was one of the questions that was a part of the discussion with some of the international partners of Blantyre Synod Health and Development Commission (BSHDC) last Friday as Malawians, Americans, Canadians, and Scots wrestled with challenges facing the church today. This was a different approach from the past, where information about the organization has been given and reports heard. Friday, we were all invited to engage in brainstorming and sharing from our different cultural perspectives and experiences about pressing issues that challenge ministry among the poorest of the poor.

Climate change is not an abstract, social issue. It is about cutting trees to cook and to make wood crafts to sell. It is about planting the same crop (corn) in the same fields year after year and depleting the nutrients of the soil, when that is Malawi’s staple food. It is about irrigation methods that don’t destroy the rivers and streams of the country. It is about catching rain water in a drought prone country. All of these were things debated, with recommendations for working with the local churches to address these issues and many more.

The International Round Table was not about asking for more money for more projects, but about sharing ideas and strategies for facing some of the most difficult problems of the people among whom we minister. Yes, there was discussion of money and programs that need funds to support them, but it was much more. This was about sharing in a tangible way the shift in BSHDC from projects to programs, programs to address five key areas of challenge among the people of Malawi – gender, livelihood, health/HIV, orphans and vulnerable children, and governance. This was about being partners in working to think in fresh ways about topics that are life and death issues for many here in Malawi. This is about engaging one another in a dialogue.

The event was refreshing and interactive and well received. It really practiced partnership. As one who has attended a number of international round tables, this was a thought-provoking approach. I came away encouraged about the direction of BSHDC and the programs they are working on within the Synod. I work in the Synod, but don’t always get to hear in detail about what some of the other departments are doing. I was blessed to represent Pittsburgh Presbytery and to be a part of the PC(USA) delegation.

An Open House

God has blessed me with a wonderful, large house here in Malawi. I have been given the house to live in by the Synod so that I am able to entertain visitors, Malawian and international. The yard is expansive and colorful, with various blossoming trees and shrubs, so that every month, something is in bloom. I enjoy sharing the house and the grounds with those who come. In the past week, I have had plenty of opportunity to share, to be a welcoming, open house.

Monday a week ago, two of our pastors were going to Kenya for a short course in training in leadership skills. They were to leave at 8:30, which meant they needed to be at the airport by 7:30. Since one of them was coming from Zomba, she asked if she and her family might spend the night at my house, to be on time to leave. She, her husband and two of her children came Sunday afternoon so they could escort her for the Monday morning departure. I got up at 6 a.m. on Monday to prepare breakfast before we left for the airport. As I was opening the curtains in the living room, I heard a horn at my gate and saw the watchman run to let in a truck carrying the other pastor and her family. They were ready for the departure, an hour early. They didn’t want to be late. The airport is small and doesn’t open until 7:15, so they were going to be too early. I invited them in and suggested that we all have breakfast first and then head off. I prepare oatmeal and tea for 12. We ate buffet style. The fellowship was great and the laughter plentiful. We left in time for them to be the first to check in at the airport, eager first time flyers.

They were really helping me to prepare for this past week. A group of 14 from Waynesburg College in southwestern Pennsylvania have come to do work projects here in Malawi. Their group leader is a friend of mine, a pastor’s wife from Pittsburgh Presbytery. As we were emailing back and forth about the details of the trip, she was concerned to keep the cost down, since they are all college students. They were looking for places where they could do their own cooking. We found them in most areas, but Blantyre is a challenge in this regard. In a moment of inspiration or weakness, (depending on your point of view), I suggested they could use my kitchen, since they were staying just across the road from my house. So Wednesday and Thursday of last week, and Monday and Tuesday of next week, they are cooking here. We have pulled chairs from all the rooms of the house and have seating for everyone. Their leader has divided them into teams for cooking and cleaning, so I don’t have to do anything but provide the place. They have proven good at both cooking and cleaning. It is really fun to have them all here.

But that is not enough company. My daughter-in-law is about to deliver their second child and since they live in a remote area, they accepted my invitation to come here and have the baby in a city hospital. This was to be the first week in June, so there would be no conflict of schedules, but at her last appointment the doctor recommended that Alinafe stay in the city, since the baby seems to be just about ready to present himself. So Alinafe, Charles and my granddaughter Cathy are here as well. (Charles is coming and going.) They fit in nicely and have become a part of the group. Cathy has had a great time entertaining everyone as only a 3 year old can. The more, the merrier.

Thursday afternoon several of the artisans who make Malawian crafts, presented themselves in my yard, having learned that there were international visitors who might be in the market for authentic Malawian goods. I gave them room in the yard to set up their wares and the group visited, like an open-air market, but with quality and volume control. The students actually had a good time browsing and negotiating. They significantly boosted the local economy. They were please with their purchases and the artisans were please with their sales. At dinner that evening, we had “show and tell” of the treasures to go back to the States. I am grateful to have a place that can accommodate all this activity. God has given me a truly open house.

A Foundation for Orphans

Orphan care is one of the most pressing issues in Malawi. This is especially true in the villages. It becomes the village’s responsibility to care for their orphans. They cannot wait for well-wishers from outside the country to rescue the orphans. The villagers need to care for their own first. Many times this means family members taking in several children. Sometimes it means child-headed households, watched over by members of the community. As the numbers of orphans increase, the communities are working to find the best possibilities for their nurture and care.

Chiuta Presbytery is one of our most remote presbyteries and one of the most economically challenged areas of the country. The HIV/Aids infection rate is about 25%, much higher than the 16% national average. The number of children orphaned by this disease is much higher than the national average as well. These orphans are the concern of the small Makogola Church near Lake Chiuta. When their pastor, Rev. Nyang’ama, conducted an elders’ retreat, they did some long range dreaming and planning. The elders dreamed of an orphan care center in their community to minister to these children and youth. They envisioned a day care center for young orphans, a vocational training center for the older ones and recreational facilities for all the youth as part of an after school program. When they returned from the retreat, they began to work on making their dream a reality. After a time of prayer, they approached the village chief about land for the project and he gave them more than 7 acres near the church property. They took plans that one of the teachers in the congregation had from a school that had 4 classrooms and they assessed the materials they would need to build such a structure on the land the chief gave them. They began gathering what they could, including old bricks from a building that was no longer in use. The pastor consulted with a contractor friend to modify the plans for their location. They gathered workers from the congregation who are willing to do the building. What they lacked was money for cement and reinforcement rods for the foundation. The pastor, my son Thomas, came to me to see if I had any ideas for them regarding the money. I had contact with a church that regularly sends money for ministry here, so I asked the church if this seemed like a project they could work with. They eagerly gave their consent. So I passed along to the Makogola church committee $1,000 from the church in the States. They were elated. This would get them started with the materials they needed to begin. They have church and community fundraisers planned to supplement the money. They are taking responsibility for this project, just as they are for the orphans. I am certain there will be more help forthcoming from the church in the States, as well.

Sunday I was invited to the church to represent the church in the States for a cornerstone laying on the foundation of the building. It was a great event. The village chief who gave the land was there. The elders and building committee had arranged for choirs to enliven the celebration. Thomas and I arrived about 2 p.m., after having conducted worship at one of his other churches. The church was waiting for us and warmly greeted us. We went immediately to the building site. I was impressed by the size of the foundation. This is a big project for a small church, but they have the faith that they will be successful. The building chair told me he can already see the children playing and learning in the space. The first phase of the plan is a pre-school program in the mornings and a literacy program in the afternoons. As we walked around the foundation and he talked about it, I could almost see the children myself. When we came to the corner for the laying of the brick, I took one from the assembled pile and carefully lay it in place, amid the cheers of the congregation gathered to witness the event. We then joined the village chief for speeches and prayers. It was a wonderful time to celebrate the vision of a small church that is willing to tackle a big challenge and care for the orphans of their community. I was pleased to be a small part of it

 

Thomas, the village chief and me

Women in Prison

One of our female pastors in the Synod has developed a heart for the women in prison. This came about when her sister was unjustly accused of mismanaging money at her place of work and was imprisoned until the matter was straightened out. The young pastor visited her sister regularly to encourage her, until she was acquitted and released. During those visits, she became aware of the difficult conditions of female prisoners.

The churches the pastor is currently serving are relatively close to the Zomba prison, which at present houses 51 women. The pastor went to visit the prisoners at the beginning of Lent. At that time she took 22 chitenje (the clothe wraps that the women of Malawi use for so many things) and promised to find more for the rest of the women. During Lent, she spoke to the women of her congregations about the project and prayed with them about how God might want to use them to minister to these women.  These congregations would be considered “poor” congregations. Most of the members are subsistence farmers and their families. None of the women had ever been to a prison for any reason, so even thinking about going was outside their comfort zones. The pastor was not hopeful of the response, but she committed it to prayer. She wrote to the prison officials and got permission for a group to visit on Easter Monday.  On Good Friday, 6 women were committed to go. She encouraged them and continued to pray. She determined that if only the 6 went, that would be a witness. Easter Sunday, she spoke about the need again during the worship services and then went home to prepare for the Monday morning visit. She was overwhelmed in the afternoon when several women came with some chitenje for her to take, and began to ask questions about the trip. She was encouraged.

Monday morning 60 women came to the manse for the trip. They had talked among themselves and decided that they needed to take seriously Jesus words about visiting those in prison being the same as visiting him (Matt. 25). They brought supplies to minister to the needs of the prisoners – 2 bundles of sugar, 4 cartons of soap, 7 bags of flour, 4 bundles of sugar cane, 3 bags of cassava, 1 large bag of peanuts, a basin of guava, 2 boxes of perfumed body gel, a large bundle of used clothing and 29 chitenje. All of this came from their homes as they shared what little they had with those who were in greater need than they themselves. The greatest surprise to the pastor was the number of chitenje. She had never mentioned how many were needed to provide for those she had not had enough for in the last visit. The number the women brought covered the need perfectly. She praised God.

They made arrangements with one of the men of the closest congregation who has a large truck to transport the women and all the supplies to the prison.  The women sang as they traveled, but when they stopped in front of the prison, all were quiet. Their fears seized them. They had heard horror stories of prison conditions. The pastor prayed with them and they silently entered the prison. The silence was broken by the women inmates who greeted them with singing as they entered the assigned room. The singing dispelled their fears and they joined in the singing and danced with the inmates. The pastor led a time of worship and preached of God’s forgiveness. Then they distributed their gifts. The prison chaplain asked if they might share some of the soap and body gel with the oldest inmates who were kept in a separate area of the prison because they suffered from skin diseases. Two cartons of soap and a box of body gel went to those with skin problems. The inmates were eager to share. They were getting so much more than they ever thought possible from strangers. Some of the inmates have family members who visit, but many are abandoned by their families who are ashamed of them. This outpouring of generosity spoke volumes to them of Christ’s love.

The church women were particularly touched by the 7 children who were in prison with their mothers, young ones who are still nursing. The youngest is 2 weeks old. She was born in the prison. The women have decided to collect clothing and blankets for the babies and take them as soon as they can arrange for another visit, before the cold weather arrives. They have overcome their fears and have embraced a new ministry, one that they never imagined possible – meeting Christ in prison.

Bad Dog

About a year ago my gardener Maxwell and my friend Sam ganged up on me and talked me into getting a dog. Sam had too many at his house and with a number of break-ins in the area, these two thought it would be a good idea for security. Then one dog became two, since there is greater protection with two, or so the theory goes.  I was reluctant, since my experience with Malawian dogs was that they were ferocious. I didn’t want fierce dogs, and especially not around my grandchildren. Maxwell and Sam assured me they would not be. The dogs are the Maxwell’s responsibility and are relatively docile, so they have not been much of a problem, until recently.

Bruce, the first dog, is a cross between a Russell terrier and an African ridgeback. He’s too friendly and playful to be a watchdog, but he has a great bark and that counts for a lot. It is his playfulness that has gotten him in trouble. For some reason, after almost a year of peacefully living around the laundry line in the side yard, he has suddenly decided that those hanging clothes make great toys. He began by pulling my daughter-in-law’s bra off the line and enticing Diesel, his partner in the yard, into a game of tug of war with the bra. Jean was not amused. We retrieved the bra and rewashed it with no harm done. He was reprimanded and seems to have understood. All was quiet for about 3 weeks. Last week, however, the lure of the baby’s diapers drying in the sun proved to be too much and he jumped and pulled until he managed to free two of them from their clothes pins and triumphantly ran around the yard with them flying like flags between his teeth. Jean was angry. He had made tooth holes in the corner of one of the diapers and had gotten dirt on both of them. I tied him up while the rest of the clothes dried and then went and bought a few new diapers to replace the damaged ones. We have hung the diapers in the house to dry ever since. But yesterday he attack again. This time the victims were two sheets and a baby blanket. Jean, who is afraid of dogs, was furious. She set aside her fear as she went after him with a mop to compel him to drop the baby blanket. The sheets were strewn across the grass and up the steps to the kitchen. They were easier to retrieve. The items were undamaged but dirty. The poor housekeeper had to re-launder these things. Laundry here is done by hand, so that was no small task to have to re-do. So Bruce has a new name – Bad Dog – and will live by new rules. He will be on his chain anytime there is laundry in the yard. His friend Diesel has been innocent in this game, to this point, (except for the bra incident), and remains free, prancing past Bad Dog and then lying protectively under the clothes line. Dogs are dogs the world over.

Bruce, the Bad Dog, who can look so innocent

Palm Sunday

One of the things that I enjoy most about worship in Malawi is how participatory it is. All the worshippers are actively involved in the service, with songs and choruses, with invited responses. But Palm Sunday, the participation increased greatly. The congregation marched, with palms waving, to reenact Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem. This was the opening of worship for both services.

The clergy led the procession from the chancel out of the church, followed by the youth choir and their drums, then the congregation. At the door we were met by a “donkey” and rider to represent Jesus. Our make-shift donkey consisted of two strong young men, one walking tall in front, as the head, leading the second, who was bent at the waist, head against the first one’s back and his hands on his friend’s hips, to lead him. This second one was draped with a chitenje (piece of fabric) and a young boy, also covered with a chitenje, representing Jesus, literally sat on his back. The three of them lead the procession as the congregation sang “Hosanna to the one how comes in the name of the Lord” waving our palm branches. This procession went out of the parking lot onto the main road, down the road about 500 yards to a traffic circle (called a roundabout here), around the circle, back to the church and into the sanctuary, where worship continued. The elders had made arrangements with the police for the right to block traffic for this festive march. Drivers joined in the singing as they slowly processed behind us.

Our first service is the larger of the two, with over 700 people in worship. The entire congregation processed, so the event took some time to file out of the church, march the path and file back in, all the time singing and dancing. This took almost an hour but time was not a factor. The spirit and the music were joyful. The service in the sanctuary did not begin until 8:30, but nothing was cut short. The march had set the tone for the rest of the worship and especially for the preaching, which was powerful. The second service, which is scheduled for 9:30 began at 10:30 with the same procession and the same joy of celebration. That service ended more than an hour later than usually, but that didn’t matter to anyone. It was the joy of the day and feeling that we were living our history that carried everyone. But both sermon offered the sobering reminder that some of the same people who cheered and sang for Jesus on Sunday, jeered and screamed for his crucifixion on Friday. The challenge was to know who we are in the crowd. The procession powerfully drove that point home, as only participation can. We were, we are, part of the crowd today, as much as those who marched and sang that first Palm Sunday.