Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Friday, February 19, 2016
Friday, February 12, 2016
getting there and installation
Crew 2 (October group) I'm in the green.
our truck
a few bridges to cross (ok, this one was on foot)
but this one wasn't
and installing
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Monday, February 8, 2016
When were you thirsty?
Matthew 25:34-40
Lord, when did we see you thirsty and give you a drink?
Have you ever been thirsty? I mean, really thirsty? Though we say “I'm dying of thirst”, few of us have really been that desperate - Was there a time when there was no water anywhere – wandering through a desert with the sun beating down and no water in sight or perhaps you were on a hike and didn't bring enough water with you... Or picture yourself where there is lots of water around - an ocean, a lake, a river – but it's salty, or tainted and dirty. Can you imagine being so thirsty that you get to the point where you decide to drink it anyway and just pray that you don’t get sick?
In October I went on my second trip with Marion Medical Mission to Malawi to help install and dedicate shallow wells, to finish the hard work that the villagers had already done of digging a deep hole until they reached water and lining it with hand-made bricks. We, the volunteers, showed up with the pipes and pumps that would bring the clean, clear water to the surface to fill their buckets. We went to villages that had water holes nearby, but they were open, muddy holes where animals would also come to drink and bathe. We went to villages that had to walk several miles to get to a water source—not clean water, water that you and I would never think of drinking, but the only water they had. In 2015, Marion Medical Mission installed 2678 wells (that is an estimated 403,050 people that now have access to clean water)! My partner, Jan, and I helped install and dedicate 102 of the wells. And I could probably tell you 102 different stories about the experience, but here are just a couple of my well stories:
Usually the whole village turns out to welcome us with singing and dancing when we arrive. One morning we arrived at a village and there were only 6 people. We were told that there was a funeral in the next village over and funerals are a big deal in Malawi. Everyone who is able goes to a nearby funeral. So in this village there were 6 people to greet us: Two were men (one of them being the water committee chairperson), two were teenage girls and two were agogos, grandmothers. These agogos looked to be about 85 though they were probably only 60, if that. One had a baby tied to her back. The well site was on the side of a mountain and we had to hike to get there. The 2 agogos started dancing and talking when we arrived and Jan and I were sandwiched between them on our walk to the well, and they didn’t stop talking until the well was installed. We couldn’t understand a word they said, but they kept up a constant, loud chatter. Near the well site I found their original water source, and it wasn’t pretty: algae, leaves, and green scum on the water. One of the agogos followed me and we had a small conversation using charades. She pointed at the water and shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. I did the same with a nod. Then I pointed to the new well and smiled. She did the same. Then I started dancing to which she screamed with laughter and called everyone else over to witness the antics as we danced together. When we started the dedication service, they were finally quiet. But not for long! It was like a prayer meeting with lots of interjections through the dedication, instructions and prayers that were said, and, of course, many ululations of joy. The Joy just couldn’t be contained.
At another village we drove in and heard shouting and cheering that then turned into a chant. When we asked what they were saying, our Field Officer translated, “It’s real! It’s true!” They couldn’t believe that we had actually arrived. They had been given so many promises, from the government, from outsiders, from everyone, and very rarely were any of those promises kept. They had been told (promised) that we would come after they finished the well. So they dug the well, put the bricks in, covered it with concrete - all with the help of a Marion Medical Mission employee who told them that he would return with the volunteers to finish the well. This well had been ready for the pipe and pump installation for about a month, and they were close to giving up on us. They figured that this was another of those broken promises. But then we arrived and they were overjoyed that we were there. That the promise of clean water was becoming real in their village.
I thought the smiles on their faces when we arrived couldn’t get any bigger - but they did – as soon as the water came out of the pump for the first time. It was clean, clear and so close to the village. Whenever a chief would say that they had started to give up hope of the pipes and pump arriving (a month is a long time to wait for clean water when the site is ready), my partner would always tell the villagers that Marion Medical always follows through, always comes back. And I love that idea, but I don’t know that it means much to the villagers. That is probably what everyone says. But on that day, we came. We were there. We were sharing God’s love. We got to be God’s hands and feet, God’s driver. We were doing God’s work of caring for these people and giving them what we, as Americans, consider a basic right: clean water when they were thirsty. A promise kept. Hope fulfilled.
In Africa, you hear people say, “Madzi ndi moyo. Water is life.” But one of the village chiefs clarified by saying, “I’ve always heard that water is life, but I’ve seen bad water and what it does to us. So I say, “Madzi ya bwino ndi moyo. Ulemu kwa Mulungu”! Clean water is life. Glory to God.
Lord, when did we see you thirsty and give you a drink?
Have you ever been thirsty? I mean, really thirsty? Though we say “I'm dying of thirst”, few of us have really been that desperate - Was there a time when there was no water anywhere – wandering through a desert with the sun beating down and no water in sight or perhaps you were on a hike and didn't bring enough water with you... Or picture yourself where there is lots of water around - an ocean, a lake, a river – but it's salty, or tainted and dirty. Can you imagine being so thirsty that you get to the point where you decide to drink it anyway and just pray that you don’t get sick?
In October I went on my second trip with Marion Medical Mission to Malawi to help install and dedicate shallow wells, to finish the hard work that the villagers had already done of digging a deep hole until they reached water and lining it with hand-made bricks. We, the volunteers, showed up with the pipes and pumps that would bring the clean, clear water to the surface to fill their buckets. We went to villages that had water holes nearby, but they were open, muddy holes where animals would also come to drink and bathe. We went to villages that had to walk several miles to get to a water source—not clean water, water that you and I would never think of drinking, but the only water they had. In 2015, Marion Medical Mission installed 2678 wells (that is an estimated 403,050 people that now have access to clean water)! My partner, Jan, and I helped install and dedicate 102 of the wells. And I could probably tell you 102 different stories about the experience, but here are just a couple of my well stories:
Usually the whole village turns out to welcome us with singing and dancing when we arrive. One morning we arrived at a village and there were only 6 people. We were told that there was a funeral in the next village over and funerals are a big deal in Malawi. Everyone who is able goes to a nearby funeral. So in this village there were 6 people to greet us: Two were men (one of them being the water committee chairperson), two were teenage girls and two were agogos, grandmothers. These agogos looked to be about 85 though they were probably only 60, if that. One had a baby tied to her back. The well site was on the side of a mountain and we had to hike to get there. The 2 agogos started dancing and talking when we arrived and Jan and I were sandwiched between them on our walk to the well, and they didn’t stop talking until the well was installed. We couldn’t understand a word they said, but they kept up a constant, loud chatter. Near the well site I found their original water source, and it wasn’t pretty: algae, leaves, and green scum on the water. One of the agogos followed me and we had a small conversation using charades. She pointed at the water and shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. I did the same with a nod. Then I pointed to the new well and smiled. She did the same. Then I started dancing to which she screamed with laughter and called everyone else over to witness the antics as we danced together. When we started the dedication service, they were finally quiet. But not for long! It was like a prayer meeting with lots of interjections through the dedication, instructions and prayers that were said, and, of course, many ululations of joy. The Joy just couldn’t be contained.
At another village we drove in and heard shouting and cheering that then turned into a chant. When we asked what they were saying, our Field Officer translated, “It’s real! It’s true!” They couldn’t believe that we had actually arrived. They had been given so many promises, from the government, from outsiders, from everyone, and very rarely were any of those promises kept. They had been told (promised) that we would come after they finished the well. So they dug the well, put the bricks in, covered it with concrete - all with the help of a Marion Medical Mission employee who told them that he would return with the volunteers to finish the well. This well had been ready for the pipe and pump installation for about a month, and they were close to giving up on us. They figured that this was another of those broken promises. But then we arrived and they were overjoyed that we were there. That the promise of clean water was becoming real in their village.
I thought the smiles on their faces when we arrived couldn’t get any bigger - but they did – as soon as the water came out of the pump for the first time. It was clean, clear and so close to the village. Whenever a chief would say that they had started to give up hope of the pipes and pump arriving (a month is a long time to wait for clean water when the site is ready), my partner would always tell the villagers that Marion Medical always follows through, always comes back. And I love that idea, but I don’t know that it means much to the villagers. That is probably what everyone says. But on that day, we came. We were there. We were sharing God’s love. We got to be God’s hands and feet, God’s driver. We were doing God’s work of caring for these people and giving them what we, as Americans, consider a basic right: clean water when they were thirsty. A promise kept. Hope fulfilled.
In Africa, you hear people say, “Madzi ndi moyo. Water is life.” But one of the village chiefs clarified by saying, “I’ve always heard that water is life, but I’ve seen bad water and what it does to us. So I say, “Madzi ya bwino ndi moyo. Ulemu kwa Mulungu”! Clean water is life. Glory to God.
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