Yesterday afternoon we packed 11 people, plus overnight bags and food, into an SUV and hit the road for a small village in the mountains. We were going to visit an orphanage and the area hospital. I also wanted to try to do a little star gazing with my students since the sky would be dark and we are studying astronomy. I found a pretty nice telescope in the office and was excited. At the very least I wanted to identify the “Southern Cross.”

The truck was stifling hot. For 2 1/2 hours we sat shoulder to shoulder, “cheek to cheek” and made the best of it. We traveled from dirt roads to paved roads then back to bumpy dirt roads. The roads were in really bad shape, with deep gullies washed out by the recent rains.

   

The children squealed in the back as the truck tipped and swayed. At one point we came across an abandoned trailer in the middle of a 1 lane road and had to turn around and find an alternate route. Fortunately, we were able to get directions from an older man that we passed by and we arrived safely at the home of the German woman who runs the orphanage soon thereafter. She lives with the 3 year old quadruplets that she adopted after their mother died in childbirth and their father was killed in a car accident. She is in her 50s and a saint of a woman.

Our first stop was the orphanage. As we walked up we saw several “nurses” outside in the bonda (like a gazebo – a cool, shady place) with lots of babies. There are lots of babies at the orphanage right now – the youngest is 3 months. These are typically children whose mother has died in childbirth, which is quite common here. The orphanage cares for the babies for up to 3 years while the extended family prepares to take the child in. After 3 years, the child is reintegrated into their family. In the meantime, a family member comes to the orphanage to help care for the child at least a couple times a week. It’s a good system and the children are well cared for. We were warmly welcomed by the workers, although some of the children shyed away from us. I got the impression that they were afraid of us, having seen very few people with pale skin. Some of them pulled away if I reached out my hand. But others were very open. I held a few of them and played with them. I was captivated by their faces, particularly their eyes. Gorgeous eyes.

   

Mason came to me and asked very quietly, “Can I hold one of them?” God has made him with a very tender heart toward young children. As our visit went on I watched the young children flock to him. He held their hands as he walked and giggled with them and played. They loved him. They really loved to touch his hair:)

   


Later, we returned to our host’s home for a cook out (after bathing in DEET). We met another family from the UK who had just arrived from planting a hospital in Madagascar to run the Nursing School associated with the hospital. Wonderful people. We chatted with them and all of us together tried to get the telescope up and running. Unfortunately, all we saw was black. I never have been able to make heads or tails of those things! But, the night sky was so bright and beautiful we had no trouble picking out several constellations, including the Southern Cross.

The next day our friends from the nursing school took us on a tour of the hospital. All the way we were surrounded by a crowd of local children. They wanted to hold our hands or to ride on our shoulders or to be carried. Looking into those big brown eyes there was no way to refuse. One little boy came to me repeatedly. We became quick friends, but every time I attempted to ask his name I got nothing, so I never learned his name:( He was about 4 years old and small and as I carried him he cuddled next to my cheek. He wasn’t afraid of me at all.

Our first stop was the children’s ward. Most of the cases there were serious malaria. The next stop was a place where the man who repairs bicycles in town had come to work on wheelchairs. Then on to the men’s ward. This area was heart breaking. In school we’ve been reading Teresa of Calcutta and I couldn’t help think of her as I looked at these men. In this hospital there are techs that administer IVs and a doctor that makes rounds, but overall the family is responsible for the care of the patient. Until our new friends had arrived no one had thought to bathe these critically ill men, not even before surgery. This week nurses were training family members on how to properly bathe their sick relatives. During one training session our friend placed the feet of a man with severe malaria into a basin and knelt on the floor to wash them. The others watching gasped, wide-eyed and said, “You must really love this man!” Her response was, “His feet are filthy and need to be cleaned.” When they asked if she was afraid she would get malaria or was bothered by the dirty floor she said, “This floor gets mopped with disinfectant 3 times a day, but this man has not been bathed once since he’s been here. He must be washed. It is our job.” Again, I flashed on the image of Mother Teresa. They also told us the story of a man who had been hit by a car and broken his leg. He was blind. He apparently passed out and the people on the street began digging his grave right there beside the road. As they were lowering him in he woke up. They were all terrified, thinking he was a zombie risen from the dead. Somehow he made it to the hospital where the leg was set, but he was still ostracized by everyone so the staff was trying to show him lots of love. It was then that I also found out that the hospital doesn’t feed its patients either. Family members who come to visit must bring food for them or else they don’t eat. This man had one sister who lived far away and because it was the rainy season had to plant her crops so couldn’t come to visit for 2 weeks. The man was starving. Fortunately, others in the hospital shared their food. I wanted to pray with him, although I didn’t speak his language and wasn’t sure of his beliefs but as I was making my way over to him he began to writhe and wail in pain. Something was clearly wrong. I decided to stay out of the doctor’s way and pray from afar.

That room was just a long, rectangular concrete building with windows on both sides. There was a door in the back that led to several “outhouses and showers” which were really just small rooms with a door on the front and a hole in the ground available for those strong enough to walk out there. To shower you dump a bucket of water over your head. To use the facilities you just squat. My guide asked if I noticed anything missing. There was no place to wash their hands. She said they were praying that God would provide $1000 for a system to collect rainwater into a bucket near the door and attach soap to it with a rope. The other thing they desperately needed was a screen door that would automatically swing shut back there. As it is, there is no door and the flies come in all day and torment the patients. My heart was so heavy. The patients are not complaining. They are dying. For so little we can give them a small measure of dignity. We can give them water to bathe and help them rest in peace until they are either healed or their struggle is over.

If you are moved to make a lasting difference at this hospital, to be Jesus to the poorest of the poor, please contact us and we will let you know how to donate to them.