I love to listen to the birds’ song in all it’s variation and melody, the fluttering palm leaves. I close my eyes and gently sway to the rhythm of life. The lush green rainforest falls away from me down the hill and up again on the other side, layers of hills until the green is dimmed and lost in the moving misty cloudcover beyond.
The feel of cool wind on my face, softly twirling my hair; the smell of the rainforest and fragrance of wet dirt fill my awareness to completeness.
I breathe in deep and slow, pole pole my Swahili rafikis tell me, taking in my last day in Africa.
At the market, I am surprised to realize I have my whistle back. In the past, I have been known to whistle absentmindedly when my soul is particularly at rest and grateful.
I hadn’t noticed it until today but I haven’t been whistling, maybe since January. Somehow this trip has unlocked my tight hold allowing my inner joy to peek out and whistle.
It has been a beautiful, stretching time this week and now this wondrous gift.
We are treated to a safari to end our time in Africa. Yesterday, we saw amazing landscape and animals in Tarangire National Park and today we travel to the Norongoro Crater. It is an immense enclosed area containing aunique ecosystem of animal and nature. Humans are visitors only here.
Serenget NP and Ngorongoro were a combined park in 1950. Soon after, they were split in two. Maasai we’re given this Conservation area to live and have their herds. I’m told they live side by side with the wild animals but only on the crater edges above.
It is an extinct volcano crater and is considered by some to be the cradle of civilization.
The first human footprints we’re discovered here. We drive into the park and it cradles us as we climb until we are above and within the rainforest as the Mountain roads climb to the sky . Soon, we have joined the clouds and now travel side by side with them.
Retired elephants cross from one side of crater to the other under massive trees of greeness with vines and moss blurring the tree outlines near the road. The leaves of those near the road are thick with dirt but just beyond in the vastness of the jungle rainforest, dense and deep they are untarnished.
The wind is brisk with clouds blowing through at eye level, mist in the jungle lushness lending it’s allure to the magnificence.
At the top, the crater expands before our eyes with the movement of the clouds sitting below in the scooped out valley . There are rumors of a rhino below and we race down to capture it if only in our imaginations.
As we descend, we leave the cloudy freshness and find the sun again. Its light on the leaves dancing with the shadows.
We switchback 600 metres down to the crater’s edge.
There is a large lake in the caldera and we are told it is a salt lake. Fresh water fed but with no outlet which allows the animals to drink from the edges.
Large craggy thorn trees thrive here with wo inch long thorns in between green fern leaves. I wonder who is hearty enough to dine there.
We see plump Zebras and Elan, Africa’s largest antelope, elephants, wildebeest and
40 rhinos who call the crater home…an underground spring and abundance of wildlife with water. Some call this secluded self contained valley the Garden of Eden. It is complete with the red fruit from the fig tree.
In the grassland by the waters edge, zebras, antelope, gazelle, coribastard, buffalo wildebeests, and hyenas graze and drink peacefully alongside each other. I would like to join them and live in the trees and have a vacation hut in the grassland.
I love the light and shadow on the hillsides, leaves and grasslands. It changes the landscape as it plays hide and seek with the wind. There is magnificent beauty in the contrasts.
God makes a way where there is no way. He is creative and we are like Him. He gives us Hope.
I have become Mama Annay to Dr. Victor and his family. This causes my heart to leap as my fondest wish comes to me. They have claimed me as their own. This is the family of God as it is designed by Him.
By necessity, today we move our clinic to a future, unfinished hospital building. It is open aired, breezy and spacious. We give out numbers to 100 to the waiting locals which we see by lunch so we give out another 100 for the afternoon.
I am delighted to see patients today. My first is a 48yo man with abdominal pain. Typically, I do not do urine tests on men but today I am prompted within. His tests lead me to others and we land on a referral for Diabetes.
I see multiple small ones and relish in their sweetness and the sweetness of their parents. Usually, little ones are brought in by their mothers but today I am touched by a doting Dad and Mom. Dad is obviously so tenderhearted toward both Mama and baby. It is lovely.
I also have the privilege of caring for one of the several centagenerians. She has a wide grin as she holds my hand and the hand of her youngest daughter. Her daughter smiles warmly. I thank her for caring well for her Mama and they both thank me with words, laughter and joy.
I am called away to attend a small 2 yo darling who grabbed a carafe of boiling water from the fire and spilled it on himself. He has extensive burns on his armpit and leg and has been sitting in his Mama’s lap while numbing medicine was left to work. It is time for a dressing when I arrive. I am grateful that he is sleeping and continues to sleep for most of our work. It is a daunting task but a necessary one as I teach Mama to change the dressing at home.
The final hour of clinic is spent finding creative ways to see the unnumbered crowds still at the door. After prayer for a spirit of calm, we give vitamins and toothbrushes to 100 or so and do rapid triage for another 100. Our day’s total approaches 400.
It is a flurry activity but we accomplish it all and our spirit of calm prevails.
We end our clinic with joyful, grateful good-byes. It has been a God centered week of trusting and blessing.
Dr Victor’s house is out in the country. As we travel into town, life is already bustling. We listen to country music and meet my companions who have spent the night at the Texas motel. A hint of home wherever I go.
There is an occasional grand tree that begs me to sit beneath it. It’s branches are expansive and lush with affusive orange blossoms that transform the forest all around. Among the dusty brown and green trees along the highway, life is celebrated by this tree. It is a glorious sight and I stop and imagine this tree is Jesus gathering his dusty children, I among them, to Himself.
After a car repair or two down sketch alley, we go to see Namyani in her hospital room. I left her frightened last night but today she and her Papa smile wide as Sandy and I enter. She has had a blood transfusion and it shows on her face. God’s gift of this one small, teeth baring smile blesses me with His message that He’s got her…and me. I tear up with gratitude, take her hand and sing hallelujah!
The drive home is warm and bumpy. It amazes me how our driver, Dominic, has such an extraordinary sense of timing. There is no slowing down for obstacles yet they always seem to move in just the nick of time. We run up right to the back end of a slower goat and barely miss an ostrich running at full speed in front of us. I sit in wonder at each near collision averted.
On the horizon, I notice an impressive dust devil. It is a towering swirl from sky to ground. When I arrive home I am told the story of clinic on Wednesday. While I was in Arusha with my kids, my team was doing battle with a sudden, wicked twister of a dust devil. Its sudden swooping launched our clinic tents 20 feet into the air, tossing them like tooth picks into the bush. Our former tent homes were demolished and our people scattered in all directions. The flying debris impaled some and injured others. We are told that people have died from such big and sudden winds and that they are not uncommon. Thankfully our own mini disaster took no lives though it took its toll in injuries, both physical and emotional.
I spent the afternoon with several team members in need of quiet debriefing and rest.
The morning is clear and breezy. The smell of the desert’s dust is in the air and there is a tent full of waiting people when we arrive at clinic.
Today I have been asked to take a day trip to Arusha, 2 hours away. I will accompany 3 children who are in need of advanced care. Sandy goes with me and Dominic is our driver.
Dr. Victor is a government appointed doctor and dentist who has joined us in clinic this week. He has made our trip to town possible. He is marvelously well connected. He sat beside me in clinic and made several phone calls to colleagues in Arusha to arrange care. I sat amazed as I realized he called the doctors themselves and they themselves answered and agreed to see my charges. He also gave me his personal phone to assure connection. He is a lovely man with a broad smile and ample laugh. He calls me Mama Annay.
Neema is my oldest today. I will take her to the Plaster House and her uncle will meet us there.
Namayani is next. She is 10 years old and has severe Anemia. I will take her to a Cardiology clinic for evaluation and probable admission. Her dad will meet us there. And, Saringe is last. He is 9 years old with swollen joints. I will take him to an Orthopedic clinic. His mother and baby sister ride with in the van.
I have been given the front seat of the van with my charges all in the back. Apparently, they honor me with the front seat because I am their elder. I am not so fond of that term but I do accept the seat.
The dirt road to town is washboard bumpy. My seatbelt prevents me from turning around to check on my patients so I trust Sandy will let me know. Poor Saringe has never ridden in a car before and vomits his way to Arusha. When I finally understand, I give him something for it and he finds relief!
The Plaster House is our first stop. It is just outside of town and in the foothills of Mt. Meru. I am stunned at its beauty when I step from the van. There are misty low clouds lazily moving across the green grassy hills. It feel like a scene from Maui. The laughter of children lightly dancies on the wind with a stained glass porch, a butterfly chair and well tended landscapes completing the look.
It is lovely place in look and feel and we are welcomed. I think Neema will be in good hands.
Next, we take Namayani to her cardiology appointment. The Moyo clinic is clean and bustling. They offer many services but see us quickly. The Cardiologist with whom we arranged care will see her later in the afternoon. Meanwhile, her dad at her side, she will have some tests done.
We leave with Saringe for the Total Care orthopedic clinic. It is quiet with few patients and we are seen quickly.
It again, offers a variety of services. The Ortho doc is a young, mission minded man who is gentle, skilled and kind. He welcomes me and Saringe and explains his thoughts as he does his exam. His conclusion needs additional testing which he will send to us but Saringe is free to return home for treatment.
When we return to Namayani she is being seen by the young, handsome, kind Cardiologist. He agrees she is dangerously anemic and advises we admit her for a blood transfusion. He suggests a small Lutheran hospital across town where he practices.
It is now 4p. I have strict orders to leave the city no later than 5:30 to make it home by dark. This seems an unlikely goal but we try.
The hospital is old with peeling paint, difficult smells and a room overflowing with waiting grim people. We are required to pay for admit to the ER and the anticipated tests before we can be evaluated so we join the waiting ones. We wait first to receive a number, then to pay, then to be called in for care. Brave Namayani sits quiet and unmoving while Sandy and I negotiate the lines.
While we wait, arrangements are made for our overnight stay in Arusha. This process is as wait-intensive as it is at home and nightfall has arrived before we are ready to go.
I have tried to be a comfort to Namayani without words but it is not until they start her IV that I see her react with any age appropriate fear. I run to her side and hold her with words that I can only hope reassure her with their tone. When they come to admit her, she rises to leave with me and I realize the limitations of my language. She does not understand and is afraid. Sandy comes to her side and tells her what is in store for her but my heart has already broken. How could I have missed the preparation of my patient? I leave praying that God will make a way in the path of my inadequacy.
It has been decided that I will stay at Dr. Victor’s home with his wife and daughters. My charges will stay at the Texas hotel.
I am greeted by two energetic daughters, 8 &11 who speak excellent English and call me ‘Annay’. We share a meal of boiled fish and they give me a bucket of hot water for my ‘bath’. A little unsure about what to do with the bucket, I wash my face and feet and call it good. It has been a tiring but pleasant day. I am grateful for God’s provision seen and unseen.
Our CSI team gathers in the morning and we work page by page through the Restoration book. I soon find the fundamentals apply to us all. Techniques to calm one’s thoughts and rewrite our own stories through the lens of God’s perspective. It becomes a time of affirmation and encouragement.
We discuss creative work arounds for those who don’t read or write or have pencils or pens. The discussion started polo, polo (slow in Swahili) but became more interactive. They asked deeper as well as more practical questions. I was impressed with their level of engagement.
Most of our CSI men are Pastors so I was surprised when Philipo asked us an age old question. He told us he understood what the book was saying but what do you tell someone about God when someone tells you all their cows have died.
I answered, feeling inadequate, that caring well for one another comes along with meaningful relationships. It is the coming alongside that speaks to a hurting heart. We may not have all the answers. We don’t always know what God is doing but we can know God and communicate His care through our presence.
It seemed like a question out of left field at first but it is really the message of our program. It is in the relationship that we can feel safe and allow God’s healing to change us.
Philipo appeared satisfied.
The afternoon finds me at Katelyn’s side as she assesses a 16ish yo girl in our CSI way. Sandy is our interpreter. Neema is her name and she comes to us with burns on her head and body. She is withdrawn and very soft spoken, her voice just above a whisper. Her eyes are down and she rarely looks up. Her hands, unmoving, in her lap. Gently Katelyn asks her questions and slowly we discover her story.
Neema is the oldest of 3 children born to a very poor single mother. Neema’s father left the family.
Neema was given to a man@12 yo and had a baby who is now 4 and in the care of Neema’s aunt. Neema was sent home from the husband’s family when they discovered she had a seizure disorder. At her family home, she has had several seizures, two of which had her falling into a fire causing the severe burns we see today. As an outcast, she is excluded, rarely fed and beaten regularly. Neema tells us she sometimes retreats to the bush by herself where she isn’t beaten.
Pastor Peter tells us that families of outcasts are simply waiting for them to die. They are a nuisance and a burden. Girls are only valued for the cows they can bring as a dowry and boys are valued for continuing the family line. If either of these goals are unlikely then the child becomes an outcast.
Kelly has heard of a place called The Plaster House. It is a faith based ministry in Arusha where treatable disabilities are surgically corrected/healed. Their hope is for the children to be accepted back into their communities with renewed value. For Neema, we make arrangements to transport our darling there on Wednesday. For her, it will be a stepping stone to a forever home where she will be valued.
We return to our Sunday’s church where Pastor Peter has set up large, white, pointed tents under which we will hold clinic in the open air. The landscape is solid beige and uninviting but there are colorful chairs and tables to arrange beneath the bright white. The first day of clinic is often a bit chaotic as we set up and organize clinic in a new place. As a result, I often step aside and seek out a place of overseeing prayer. Today, my prayer chapel is found just beyond the bustling scene. The land is dusty and rock strewn. The low lying brush and bush is dry and barren. There are thorn trees and well worn paths to the unknown, one of which I follow a short way before I turn around to watch. I feel a bit like the prophet, Habukkuk, who stood on his ramparts to see what God would do. I begin my prayer with the words of his book chapter 1:5 when God says:
“Look and see; wonder and be astounded.
For I am doing a work in your days that you would not believe even if you were told.”
As clinic begins, I am tasked with gathering the Community Safety Initiative local volunteers to review the program with them. There was some disappointing confusion among the volunteers about how to begin the relationships. We sent a team last summer who identified wounded community members in need but then no further contact was made. Today, we are taking the time to review and equip them for success.
Katelyn is my partner. At home, she is pursuing a Masters in counseling with an emphasis on trauma. This seems a perfect fit and indeed, it is as we feel connected from the start. She and I find that we can finish each other’s sentences as we think along the same lines. It becomes a joy to team teach our group.
We start with a group of 5: Paulo, Sandy, Philipo, David and James. Sandy is our interpreter and her enthusiasm shines from her every pore. She is a delight as she is so eager to learn and share with us and the group.
This program is designed to walk a wounded person through the process of rewriting their own story while redefining who they are in God’s eyes. Our volunteers have agreed to, through relationship building, come alongside each person who we have identified as having a traumatic situation in need of healing. We have created a workbook entitled Restoration to assist with the journey. It is this workbook that we are to review with our group this week.
We call our community volunteers, Heroes. Those who supervise Heroes are called Superheroes. Paulo and Sandy clearly stand out and agree to assist the others and they become our Superheroes.
As we start, it is clear that these Maasai are masters at keeping their emotions off their faces. It is when we have them claim who they are in God’s eyes that their stoic faces break into joyful smiles along with mine. Each one reads a verse that describes who God says they are. “I am God’s masterpiece”, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” It charges us all up and off we go.
I spend the afternoon seeing patients. Tiny smiles fill my space. I love this work.
My soul proclaims the goodness of the Lord and my spirit exalts God my Savior for He has looked with mercy on my low estate.
For the mighty God has done great things for me. And His mercy will reach from age to age.
Holy is is Name. By John Michael Talbot.
My tears are close today and yet as I sit with them I am surprised to understand they are not tears of grief but tears of gratitude. And my heart is overflowing with good things as I spill out onto my cheeks with the astounding reality that God does not leave me in my low estate. He brings me to Africa so I might live in His mercy and be His goodness and He prompts a song so I might feel Him by my side as I start my day.
For the mighty God has done great things for me. Just imagine what He will do in and through today.
The rains are coming but they are not here yet. The ground is dusty. The grass is yellow and brittle. The washes are dry. The umbrella trees and scattered bushes are the only green amidst the parched earth but there is abundant living water in the church.
The beauty of Masai jump dancing for the joy of the Lord, children moving as one in celebration of the One Who provides, whole body jubilation with vigor. The Living Water falling fresh on all. It is a reviving circle of shared connection across cultural and language barriers. What a pulsing of life as we connect to our common power source. How incredible. God is in our midst jumping, more pleased than we.
We are treated to the stories of God’s workings in 3 of our teammates and 2 of the church members. Pastor Timothy speaks from God’s Word and the Good Samaritan pops from the pages in living color. He uses our presence to illustrate the answer to Jesus’ question, “Who is your neighbor?”. “He who shows mercy.”
Sunday Sermon translated from Swahili.
Lk 10:25-37
Good Samaritan
Love God with ALL:
Heart
Soul
Strength
Mind
Love neighbor as yourself.
We identify neighbors in different ways.
Without love for neighbor, there’s no entering kingdom of God.
Who is our neighbor?
How do we inherit Kingdom of God?
Love our neighbor
Without boundaries
Neighbors are those you help in time of trouble.
The team has become our neighbors. We see the love of God in you by coming here.
We learn something from you because of the love of God.
You must love others with God’s power and then everyone is your neighbor.
Take this message as your message. Be the Good Samaritan to those who come to you.
When you face challenges, God’s love will protect you as you protect others who also have challenges.
Why do our friends leave all they know to come to Africa? Why do they use everything they have to help people in Africa?
Because of love.
Last time, people got well because of your care.
You bought food for the kids. Today family is happy because of you. Because of the love you have shown.
Because of the love of God in you.
We might preach well, sing well but without love we cannot see Jesus.
We leave Arusha after a pleasant, slow morning at the market and Cultural Center. It is a cool breezy, sunny day with low lying clouds and blue sky. The acrid smell of exhaust that is blowing in the open van windows is soon replaced by the fresher open air of the rural roadway. There is mist on the mountain we skirt on our way out of town. Its peaks are hidden from our view.
Barren hills to the left dotted with herds of sheep and goats. There are hints of the Massai herders in their red Shukas in the distance.
Trucks piled high with newly hewn tree trunks pass on the left and each small village presents with it’s own heaps of wood logs and planks so reminscent of Haiti’s doomed deforestation.
It is a dusty, dry landscape until the undulating grasslands turn greener as they slope gently up to the mountain’s edge.
We turn off the main highway onto a dirt road. As we venture farther into the countryside the cloud slowly take over the sky. The trees are taller and more frequent and between them we see a family of giraffes, baby in tow. Their grand design silhouetted magnificently against the umbrella trees and tall grasses.
We arrive, at last, at our week’s destination, the Mount K motel. It is a lovely walled compound with garden, a pup and friendly staff to welcome us with Tanzanian hospitality and their favored chai tea. Just over the wall the giggles of two young boys capture my attention as the one fits nicely into a large circular bowl which the other spins and they both fall into laughter. My heart laughs with them. I have missed being with the children.
I am road weary and it isnt soon enough when I find my bed a welcomed respite from the traveling.
Asante Sana (Swahili for Thank You) for our safe travels and cherished slumber.
Tripping with God: Stories of Faith and Inspiration 