More than an Itch

If you looked at my one-year-old baby picture you would probably feel torn between laughing and a feeling of complete pity for me. I really wish I had it so I could share with you all. You see, in my photo I am covered in mosquito bites. I look like a happy yet tortured little soul.

Growing up everyone would tell me that I must have sweet blood. I was always itching and squirming from numerous bites from the first warm day of the year 'til the last. I don't know why, but they've always loved me, and still do.

Yes, the itching can be torturous, but it was livable. I guess that I actually got used to it, because in no way did those pesky little bugs ever stop me from fully enjoying the great outdoors.

Because of the mosquito's love for me, it should come as no surprise that on my first trip to Africa one of those little buggers shared Dengue Fever with me. It must have been my last day or two in Malawi, or possibly the layover on the way back in Ethiopia, when the bite happened. It wasn't until I was safely home that my sleeping issues began feeling more serious than jet lag. Then there was, of course, the infamous rash that resulted in a week long quarantine. North American doctors don't see Dengue Fever everyday, so apparently unfamiliar rash+ returning from Africa= crazy scary disease and imminent death for all who come in contact with said disease.

I survived the Dengue fever, and was lucky enough to have one of the less serious strains. But, inevitably, three weeks after I moved to Zimbabwe a few years later, I sat on Tecla's couch with the worst headache I have ever had, unable to force down a bite of food.

By the next morning the verdict was clear. The mosquito got me again; I had malaria.

I have always handled sickness pretty well, but let me be clear. Malaria: Take the worst flu you've ever had and times it by about 8 million.

I'm not kidding. It is bad.

And not only was it bad, it was scary.

When you are bundled up under six blankets and still shivering it's bad. But when you are bundled up under six blankets and still shivering when it is well over 100 degrees, it's scary.

That week is mostly a blur, but what I do remember is misery and being so very cold. I also remember people coming to pray with me, and being so thankful but too delirious to really communicate with them, understand their prayers, or even determine if they were speaking English, Shona, or Ndebele.  I remember the most amazing meals being prepared by precious and loving people just for me, hoping they would entice my appetite back to life. I remember looking at the food and fighting back tears because I just couldn't make myself eat. I could barely force down water a few sips at a time.

When I hear the Malaria statistics I am not surprised because I remember how ruthless it was to me, an adult in great health. But children, especially those who are malnourished with weakened immune systems, they are the ones who are losing this battle.

Malaria kills 655,000 children per year.

The good news is that we have weapons to help children and their families in this battle. These weapons are low cost but high efficiency.

Something as simple as treated mosquito nets and malaria prevention training saves thousands of lives, and is available to save thousands more if we are willing to help.

Having had a taste of this disease, I can understand the misery of Malaria. What I have a harder time understanding is how so many mothers survive the loss of their children from a disease that is highly preventable.

April 25, 2013 is World Malaria Day, and I urge you to visit Compassion International's Malaria Intervention Initiative page and consider what role you can play in arming these children in the deadly battle against Malaria.

You will be amazed at how little it costs to save a life.



P.S...I cannot walk away from this post without making a plea for Subdini. She is 9 years old, lives in India, is a beaming ray of sunshine, and has been waiting for a sponsor for 392 days. If you could use a smile or are ready to have your life changed by a beautiful little girl on the other side of the world, please click here. You know you want to.

One of those moments

While I lack the time to write new posts, I will be wiping the dust off of some old stories that I've told here. This is a repost  from 2008, inspired by the summer I spent in Malawi, circa 2004.

I was looking through some old pictures and I came across this:



I love this picture for so many reasons. Obviously I was not quite ready...for the picture or for the moment. You see, this picture was taken my first time in Africa. I was in the country of Malawi, and I believe this was one of our first moments with the kids. I was excited, happy, overwhelmed. I had just graduated from college and I thought I knew it all. Little did I know how much I was about to learn, the adventures that would lie ahead, or the passion that was being ignited in me. I love honest pictures like this. This is one of those moments I hope I never forget.

Community at the Water Pump

Dikupita Madzi Ku Mpope....

These are words I will always remember from my time in Malawi. They mean "I am getting water from the water pump"...and in order to run a feeding center for 150 children, you must do this several times a day. In order to help me learn the language of Chichewa (Chiwe), the women at the feeding center in Mponela would constantly ask me what I was doing, and very often, this was the answer.

Getting water from the water pump was a very physical task, but somehow it was an enjoyable task.

The water pump is a source of life for the village. It is where water, an essential for living is found. It is where, at anytime of day, you can go to get water, and meet a friend. It is a place for sharing stories and laughter, but more than that, the water pump is a place to experience community. 

After you walk to the water pump and pump the water into your bucket (and if you are an azungu like me are probably already exhausted at this point), you must then get the incredibly heavy bucket of water on your head.

Women carry heavy items on their heads for good reason...once you get it up there, it is much easier to carry, and if it is something like water, it is much easier to carry without spilling.

But first, there is the task of getting it up there.

Although I don't doubt that there are some African super women who are capable of getting the bucket on their head without help, it is a two person job.

As soon as your bucket is full, someone jumps in to help. There is no wait to watch you struggle. There is no wait to see if someone else will step up to help you. There is someone there, helping you lift it and place it centered on your head, with no questions, just a smile.

And although it may be someone you have never met, they are a friend.

The water pump is the center of life for a community, in more ways than one.

Defining Moments

There have been a few moments in my life that have marked undeniable life change.

They have redefined my view on life.

Made me see what was missing.

Made me feel alive.

This defining moment did all those things, and so many more.

Teaching a group of orphans in Mponela, Malawi. June 2004.

This picture was taken in Mponela, Malawi. Out of all my travels, it remains the one of the most impoverished places I have ever been. 

I spent two months in Malawi shortly after graduating college. It was really meant to be a mission trip, and nothing more.

I thought I would go to Africa, love on kids, tell them about Jesus, cry a little, come home, and go back to life as normal.

I should also mention, I thought I knew it all.

Lets just say I was wrong on all counts.

After landing in Malawi I spent two days in language training, then found myself here, in the middle of nowhere. Also known as Mponela.

After spending a day with the kids at the feeding center, our team translator and host drove us around in the dead of night. Along the way he pointed out the brothels.

Brothels where grown men slept with little girls.

Brothels where children whose hands I washed that very day were being raped in that very moment.

That night my heart was broken. I prayed. I wept.

My life changed.

And the next day I hugged those children and played with those children. I sang with them and danced with them. I washed their hands and cooked their food. And then they sat down in the field, and I told them how precious they were. I told them that God knew them before they were born. I told them that they were beautiful.

They were each given a few crayons and a piece of paper, and were asked to draw the most beautiful thing they had ever seen or could or imagine. For most of them, it was their first time holding a crayon. We had to wade through the crowd and show many of the children how to draw and how to color. Then they were told that to God they are the most beautiful thing he can imagine.

The feeding center where I volunteered was a new ministry, set out to not only feed the orphans, but to stop the horrible things going on in the area. In a country where child "prostitutes" were thrown into the same prison as men until a decade ago, Ministry of Hope was helping pave a way for the rights of the children. So many of them who ventured to the feeding center for five meals a week had to return to the brothels for fear of their lives.  But slowly and surely, the ministry was finding ways to change that.

For a short time I was blessed enough to play games with these children and hug on them. I was honored to see them make funny faces and be silly and laugh as children should do.  

I experienced so much grief, joy, love, hope, sorrow, laughter, and sadness during the time I spent in Mponela.

And since then, I haven't been the same.

So, now I ask you.

What are some of your greatest defining moments?