Out of Africa

I have been thinking a lot lately about how blessed I was living in Australia. Sadly much of that blessing was in a sense ‘lost on me’ because I didn’t see it for what it was. The longer I live here the more I realise the day-to-day difficulties people face in the majority of the world. I am amazed that people are able to keep their hope when so many things seem so difficult.

Things I have always taken for granted - access to water, nutritious food and good medical assistance - are, at times, just not available here. I am horrified at the number of times people come back from our local medical clinic saying that there is no medicine or even occasionally no doctor. We have had to shut nursery schools for a day or two more than once because a bore hole is closed and therefore there is no access to water without a long walk….not possible when drawing water for 100+ children.

Now that we have been here for a year, I have also begun to understand the food cycle in this place. We are just leaving the ‘hungry season’ - the time of the year where people have very little to eat. Food here is actually seasonal. A word we bandy around in Australia, usually to suggest that we should try and eat more ‘seasonally’ because of ‘food miles’ and a need to care for our planet. Here seasonal means “this is all there is to eat because nothing else grows at this time of year”.

A visitor to Mphatso was telling me a story of how she had met a lady in Australia who had emigrated from another country. They were in the supermarket together and the lady stated that “every day is Christmas in Australia”. It’s true you know. In so many countries to be able to eat your favourite foods is something that is reserved for really special occasions, such as weddings or Christmas, and isn’t even always possible then. Yet when I lived in Australia I could, and often did, have what I wanted when I wanted. It wasn’t unusual for me to take the car out to go up the street just because I had a craving for chocolate, chips…whatever. I wish I had known then what I know now, because I would have appreciated that privilege and not just taken it for granted. These days we have to think twice about taking the car to the hospital when someone is seriously sick because we may not have enough fuel; and while I am comparatively spoilt for food and food choice compared to my neighbours here, ‘feeling’ like a food and being able to eat it are luxuries that occur only occasionally.

Now I really do appreciate it when I can eat chocolate or there are some chips in the house. I no longer take these things for granted and, as I consume them, I am aware of what a privileged position I am in. My neighbours here have not tasted chocolate or chips (unless at my house) and are limited to the foods that they can grow or buy locally at a cheap price.

As for medical assistance, I don’t think I will ever complain about the quality of medical assistance in Australia again. I now fear when someone is sick. I have never thought in Australia when a friend was sick “I hope they are able to get medicine or that they are correctly diagnosed”. I just took it for granted that they would be. Here I often have my heart in my mouth, especially when a child is unwell and sent off to hospital because, despite the best efforts of some medical staff, they are hampered by lack of medicine and diagnostic tools, never mind ‘best practice’ training.

So this is how I have learnt to be thankful - realised how deeply I have been blessed - and it is why I wish for more for those I love here. How can I accept that “this is how it is” when I know it can be better. All I can do is pray that, as things improve here (however long that takes), people here maintain their sense of thankfulness for what they have. That they don’t, like me, take it for granted. I can only pray that I will never take my blessings for granted again either.

I met James (not his actual name) about two months ago. A friend and employee had come across James when visiting a friend an hour or more walk away. The next day at work she told me what she had observed. In fact her words were “you will not believe this boy, he cannot see, cannot hear, cannot walk much and just sits there rocking his head”. She knows the signs of malnutrition and was very concerned about James. Two days later we headed off with food and some clothes to try and make an assessment and see what we should do. I have learned that when our staff are moved by the compassion of God that I need to listen and hear what He is saying.

I’m never quite sure what I will be confronted with when I visit someone in need here. I found a well kept home, yard immaculately swept with a well kept garden nearby. James was sitting on the ground head swaying, stick thin. After observing James for awhile I felt that he possibly did have some hearing and vision but I also learned that he was having fits. We arranged to come back with more food and by the next time we saw him we were able to arrange for him to be assessed by a disability worker.

There is another boy who lives much closer to us; his name is Bless (not his real name). Bless took many years to walk and talk. When he was born his mother was employed by an English lady who helped them to have access to disability services. Bless spent many years in one of our nursery schools and has now graduated to a local primary school. Bless is a healthy, tall boy who does his best to interact with the world around him.

When we had James assessed we discovered that James and Bless are identical in diagnosis and age. Both have cerebral palsy: Bless from birth and James from the age of two when he contracted cerebral malaria. James is neither blind nor deaf. Sadly the disability worker cannot yet work with him because he is so severely malnourished. We will continue to feed James for at least six months until he is stronger and better able to eat other foods.

I have shared these two stories because I was so struck by the difference in the two boys. James in the size of a six-year-old, cannot speak, can barely walk, and appears to be blind and deaf. Bless is strong, can greet you in English or Ch’tonga and walks easily.

The difference is not in the love of those caring for them. James is cared for by his grandmother because his mother has died. James’ grandmother does the best she can but has had no access to help of any kind. This difference in circumstances has translated directly into the difference in the boys’ physical status.

The expression “the least of these” is what comes to mind when I think of James. There is nothing James can give but he is deeply loved by our Father. Our worker’s compassion for him is a reflection of God’s. James deserves a chance. He deserves food and medical attention. We often talk in the West about giving people the opportunity to become all they can become, allowing people to reach their full potential. Here we think about people being able to live, to survive. I want to see James reach whatever his potential is, but it’s going to be a long hard road for him.

It begs the question what are we to do? How many more ‘James’ are there that we do not know about? Trapped, not just by their level of ability, but also by their circumstances. I find my heart drawn to James and I know it is because of God’s heart within me. All we can do is respond to those who are brought our way; we can only be open to those God puts in our path and ask “what am I to do”? The simple answer is to love and to care for “the least of these”, to follow His example and to have His compassion.

There are situations that describe the state of a nation. Stories of individuals that are more telling than newspaper analysis or diatribe. Arthur’s story is like that, not because it is filled with horror, but rather because a preventable and needless tragedy occurred.

Arthur was a small boy who was living with his aunt and her family. This is not unusual in this culture - often if one family member is unable to look after a child, another family member will step in and help. Arthur was 10-years-old and in the equivalent of grade four (standard four) at school. He was a much loved part of the family, well fed, clothed and educated. He was looked after as though he were a son of the aunt and her family.

Arthur became sick. His aunt took him to the local hospital and then to a private clinic to try and find out what was wrong. No-one gave her a diagnosis, just some tablets to take that proved ineffective. Arthur continued to get sicker. He was called to go back to his grandparents. His aunt decided to take him to a private hospital to get some scans to try and figure out why he was continuing to get worse. When she informed the rest of the family, they decided to take him to a larger public hospital for further care as he was obviously failing. He was admitted and it was decided he was anaemic and a blood transfusion was given.

Four days later he died. Yesterday he was buried. The family still do not what was wrong with this young boy who had always had good health and who was well cared for, and they never will. Ultimately he died because there was no way to diagnose accurately what was wrong and to provide correct treatment. He died because he was born into a rural community in a third world country. In fact, most families would not have been able to take him to a private clinic or be able to consider doing scans at a private hospital.

It’s unfair, it’s wrong and it shouldn’t happen. Arthur was a gorgeous boy with big brown eyes and a quick smile. He was sweet by nature, not pushy or aggressive but kind and thoughtful. He was loved by his family and his village. He had a good life but it was cut short because we live in a world that is unequal, where the place we are born determines the opportunities we have in life and also for life.

It makes me angry and sad in equal degrees. Arthur deserved better, every child deserves better. I found myself at the funeral telling God that this is wrong, that it shouldn’t happen, but then I was just telling Him what He already knows. This is so far from His intention, so far from His will. So what then, what do I do? What is He doing?

I don’t have any easy answers; in fact I’m not sure I have any answers at all. My God is not ineffective or incompetent and He is totally, truly love. All I know is that He is here and that He is at work here. He has asked me to join Him in this place to work for change, for opportunity, for hope. He has asked me to express His love in this place and so that’s what I’ll do, knowing that I may never understand but also knowing that I don’t have to accept the ways things are because He doesn’t.

I have been thinking about transformation lately. I believe that to be transformed into the image of Jesus is what discipleship is all about. Discipleship is more than just following, it is to become like the One you are following.

If I stop and think about that too long, I become disheartened because I know whom I follow and, quite frankly, I know who I am - and there appears to be quite a substantial gap between the two! Yet I know that I am looking at my walk the wrong way around when I approach it like this as it is, in fact, a step-by-step journey.

I was listening to a sermon the other day where a man was sharing his frustration with God allowing the difficulties in his life until he had the realisation that God takes the long term view not the day-to-day one that he was taking. You see, God is working through our day-to-day life, which our focus needs to be on, but it is the long term ‘us’ that His focus is on. He is at work transforming us, using the people and circumstances in our life to make us more like Jesus.

In my life, it is often a messy process. It reminds me of cleaning my house, in order to get it clean, it first becomes a whole lot messier. My Father working in my life is a lot like that and it can be discouraging if I simply look at where I am at now, without understanding that He is doing something. I’m not sure that knowing that this ‘mess’ is leading somewhere necessarily gives me comfort but it does give me courage. Courage to walk in the situations I have been placed in and to allow Him to use them to bring about transformation.

There are many tensions in the Christian walk and the tension between focusing on a new and better future and ‘us’, and staying in the moment we have been placed is a very real one. If we focus on the here and now, we can lose hope, but if we focus on the future we can miss what it is that God needs to do in us at this moment.

I’m not presenting any solutions, just acknowledging that it can be a difficult road, this road to transformation. Yet it is not a road we walk alone or even have to find the strength for ourselves, it is a road we are led down and at times carried down until He has completed the work He is doing is us.

Recently it was a year since we left Australia; so today it’s a year since we arrived in Malawi. I have caught myself thinking a couple of times; ‘Would I have come if I had known what I would experience here’? If I had really understood what it would mean to leave everyone and everything familiar and to adjust my life to another culture? To be constantly observed, whether in my home or out, to live my life in such a public manner? Would I have come if I had known the things I would see, dying babies, people ravaged with disease, people suffering with malnutrition?

I’m not sure. I can’t place myself back in the shoes of who I was when I said ‘yes’ to God’s call. All I know is that I have been given the grace for all of it, each step along the way. Never early. That’s what this walk of faith is like though isn’t it? Saying ‘yes’ and then having the faith to believe that we will be given what we need, as we follow. None of us know what the next day will hold, never mind the next year.

When we say ‘your will not mine’ we don’t know what we are saying yes to, but we do know whom we are saying yes to. If we grasp, even a little bit, His love for us then we can trust that He will give us what we need. Somehow that sounds trite but it’s the only way I can move forward. I know Him, I know His love for me. I know He will ask more of me than I think I can give, I know He will push me and stretch me. I know He will allow me to be exposed to the pain of this world.

I also know that He has a ‘better me’ in mind as He does this. It is not just for the sake of the other that I have been on this path and in this community, it’s also because Father God is chiselling away at me, shaping me, moulding me, making me into who He intended me to be. Would I have said no to Him if I had known the price of being made into the image of Jesus? No, I wouldn’t, but even my answer is only possible because of His grace.

I think I had my first solid bought of home sickness yesterday. It’s not that I haven’t missed home before but yesterday I was longing for the familiar; for a good long chat and hug with a friend, for a worship service at church, for a walk on my favourite beach, for the things that bring me comfort and joy.

It had been a busy week and I had been caught off guard by something that had happened the day before and felt quite rattled. It’s amazing isn’t it how we long for what we know when we are shaken by something, how we long for the things that usually bring us comfort.

So I did what I know to do. I read my Bible, I read another book that grounds me spiritually and I put on a worship DVD. At first it was because I had to declare that God was above my circumstances but as the day progressed it was about comfort.

The comfort of being with Him who knows me best, of hearing His words of truth spoken over my life and circumstances. He is so good, you know. I had wondered at times if I could cope without the spoken words of those who know me best. When I am rattled that’s what I head for - friends and mentors. While I love the people here - and while some know me a little, we are still getting to know each other - it’s a blessing to know, really know that He is more than enough. Yesterday I knew Him to be my solid ground, my rock. He spoke words over me of comfort, strength and purpose. I knew Him to be my all in all, my everything.

It may have been a tough day but it was also a blessed one. I had a moment of thinking I couldn’t visit Australia just now because I might not come back. Australia seemed such an easy option but as the day wore on, when I looked at the lake or heard a child giggle or spent time listening to someone’s story, my heart for this place was renewed and restored - just as God intended it to be. I am aware of my lack of strength, but am choosing to rejoice with Paul in that because it is in this that His strength is made known.

Well, this is it! Robyn has left to go back to Australia. Robyn has been doing the work here in Malawi for nearly eight years and we have been learning it for nearly seven months. No comparison really!

On the morning after she left with my husband Mark who was dropping her off, I woke up and thought “Oh no, I’m in charge”, then I reminded myself that I am not in charge, I never have been and never will be and I rolled back over and went back to sleep. What a relief to remember that none of this relies on my ability, wisdom or strength. There is no way that I am capable of doing what needs to be done, or making the right decisions or even of treating everyone I meet with dignity and respect, thankfully He who is in me is always more than capable.

I have posted a copy of Philippians 4: 13 above my desk. My mum gave it to me just before I left Australia and it will be my constant reminder. When I think I can do the work, I shall read it and remember that, if I am right, it is only because of Him in me, and on the days when I know I cannot do the work, I shall read it and remember that I can because of He who is within me.

Life here is unpredictable, whether it be the political situation or simply the not knowing what any day will hold, it is my sanity and strength to know that He who holds the future also holds me. What a great comfort! Knowing this is allowing me to get excited about the possibilities before us rather than being overwhelmed by them. Why can I not live this way always? Holding the truth of my own weakness and His strength hand in hand? Why did I need to come to Malawi to rediscover this?

If there is one thing that I am thankful for it’s that Malawi has me so out of my comfort zone that I cannot pretend or even convince myself that I am capable enough or competent enough to do the work before me. It may not be an easy place to sit but it’s an honest place to sit and I hope that no matter where the future takes me that I will continue to sit in this place.

There is so much in my head at the moment that it is hard to know where to begin in order to allow it to become something ‘readable’. In the last two weeks we have had two friends from Australia die and then found ourselves in the middle of a city where protest marches turned into looting and rioting. Both my head and my heart are full and yet I find myself needing to do the ordinary, the day-to-day, simply because it needs to be done. This is not the place to write of how I see the political situation here, if for no other reason than we are not sure where it may yet end. But I do want to think through what has happened and try to make sense of it, if sense can be made.

It was less than a week ago that we heard the news that a friend who had suffered for too long had joined the Father and is now at peace. It is easy and natural to ask why she suffered, why such a beautiful spirited lady needed to endure what she did, to rail against the injustice of it, yet it would seem that if she could find such genuine joy, and she truly did, in the midst of her pain then maybe it is not my place to question. Maybe rather I need to join my heart with hers in gratitude to a God who loves so much, to be thankful for what she did have.

A few days later I learned that a friend from my youth had died suddenly having had a stroke, leaving a husband and children. She was only young, a few years older than myself. My head has been full of questions, as it seems almost impossible to make sense of this and again I wonder is it is my place to do so? Our world is such a broken place and I am reminded that it was not intended to be, and that in the midst of this brokenness there is only One to cling to.

The day of the first friend’s funeral we found ourselves caught up in a in a city where we knew marches were to take place. We stayed at a friends house knowing that the people were angry and frustrated and that it may not end well. As the day unfolded we learnt that our worst fears were confirmed and that the march had turned into riots and looting and that the police were shooting people. Our hearts were broken as these are truly a peace loving people and more than 10 people were killed that day.

I have many questions about the pain I see in the world and, while I have a theological grid that helps me make sense of it at an intellectual level, it often leaves my heart untouched. Yet maybe this is how it is meant to be? Maybe we are never to be OK with the pain in this world. I know God is not.

Just a few hours after I learned that my friend who had suffered for so long had died, I held a baby in my arms. A boy, a month old but very small, and with little chance outside of a miracle of surviving. As I held him in my arms I could hear Amazing Grace playing quietly in my friends house. It reminded me that each day we have is a gift, a gift of grace. Every moment we live is a gracious gift of God and not to be taken lightly or for granted. That is how I want to live, making each day, each moment, count. I want to live with purpose and joy each day I am given. That is the only way I can make sense of this world and live with the disparity of how it was created and how it is.

As I type this there are a group of women dancing and knitting in our yard. Women who are among the most joyous and gracious I have ever met. Each of them is living with HIV, many of their friends have died with the same disease, yet they live each moment not with resentment or anger but with love and grace, they are my inspiration today and remind me that this world does not need to be fair or just for us to live lives of purpose, hope and joy. Lives that count no matter how long they may be, lives that acknowledge that life is indeed a gift of grace.

I have been thinking about what it means to join God in what He is doing. It is so easy to focus on what ‘I’ do, what I would like to do, what I can and can’t do, and, so it is easy for me to forget that I have been invited to simply join Him in what He is doing. This is always this danger for me and for others who struggle with self sufficiency, we attribute more to our own effort than is warranted and underestimate what it is that God wants to do through us.

I was reminded of this recently when I visited a church with a team from Australia. There was, of course, much singing and dancing and after the Word people were invited to be prayed for. I joined the rest of the team in praying for individuals who had come forward. I prayed over a couple of women and then, when I moved on to a third woman and laid my hands on her, I was overwhelmed by a deep sadness and heaviness. She couldn’t speak English and my Chi Tonga is very basic.

There was no audible communication between us but the Spirit was up to something. I prayed, and knew that as I did so I was simply being a part of what God was doing in this woman’s life. Through my tears, I spoke joy over her and a release of the heaviness. I have never met her before and may never meet her again. I sat back down before she did and as she turned to take her seat I glimpsed her face and the tears started again.

I see and meet women with difficult lives every day and I had just prayed for two other women in possibly the same circumstances as her and there had been nothing, but with this women there was a divine appointment, not something I could have anticipated or controlled, but rather a moment to embrace and trust in Him who was and is always at work. He was up to something and what a joy and a privilege to be involved. Much better then when I am at work.

Over the last few weeks we have had visitors from Australia staying with us. It has been interesting seeing things through their eyes. It reminds me of when I first visited Malawi. It has also prompted me to think about how I am doing life here.

I was taken by surprise when one of our visitors was overwhelmed by emotion at the knowledge that there are children here going without food. I have had to stop and question my heart, why would I be surprised by this, it’s a natural emotion. Have I stopped caring? This knowledge is not new to me, it’s an awareness I live with. Why am I too not overwhelmed with the injustice of it, the sadness of it?

I don’t think that it is that I am lacking compassion, I care about these people even more deeply than when I first arrived because now I know them, their names, their faces and many of their stories. Many of them have invited us into their lives even if only in small ways and others are watching and deciding to what degree they are willing to accept us. So, no, I care more about the people here than ever before.

Why the lack of emotion then? I don’t know if I can explain it properly, but I think it is twofold. The first being that I cannot maintain that level of emotion and still do what I need to do here. I have to focus on what I can do, not on what I can’t. It’s not that I am not frustrated, saddened or even angry at the injustice that we see around us, it’s just that I cannot afford to let it consume me. If I dwelt on the reality of the lives of so many here then I would be paralysed and unable to join God in what He is doing here.

I think the other reason - and possibly the main one - is that the people here are so full of joy and hospitality that it is hard to feel anything but pride in them and the way that they face up to daily life here: no complaints, a song in their hearts and, more often than not, on their lips as well. I feel embarrassed at times of my own petty complaints and the attitude that I face them with. So I shall try and join them, aware of their circumstances but not overwhelmed by them, joining with them and with God to bring change. Knowing that there will be days when it is too much and there will be times when emotion catches up with me but also knowing that this is OK.