A short Christmas drama...

Here is Tendai shining like a Christmas angel under the tree.

Here is Tendai deciding that sitting like an angel is for the birds, and she would rather knock over a bottle of wine whilst Auntie Keren is fiddling with the settings on her camera.

Here is Auntie Keren frantically trying to clean up the wine puddle before it stains the tiles.

Tendai got a present anyways, though. She is just too cute.



The end.

Merry Christmas...

From my tent...

...to yours.

But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord."

Luke 2:10-11

Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat upon them nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.

Revelation 7:16-17

PS- Hey, Stuka. Did you see the star?

And then Tuesday was a little nuts...

I was talking the other day with one of the missionaries here who also keeps up a blog. I was saying that sometimes I am unsure about what to post. I like talking about all the good moments, and there are very, very many good moments. But there are very bad moments too. Sometimes I don't want to write about those moments because I don't want to sound overdramatic or sensational. The truth is, however, that life can be very, very harsh and hard and unfair for people in Mozambique.


Anyways, as I said, I was talking with one of the other missionaries about what to post, and she said that she tries to keep a balance between good and bad. That sounded like good advice.

So, here is a post about frustrating and funny.


Quite often people wait until they are almost beyond help before coming to the clinic or sending out a mayday. By the time we see them it can be too late. It is extremely frustrating. Other times people come to the clinic, get treated once, then go home and get sicker, but don't come back to the clinic. And then sometimes they die. Just today Lynn and I went to see a woman who was complaining of stomach problems. She is seriously, seriously ill and suffering terribly. Back in Canada she would be an emergent case, but here things are different. She is afraid that she will die if she goes to the hospital (people around here call the hospital "the departure lounge" which gives you an insight to how things run sometimes). Lynn and I are doing what we can, but it really will be a miracle if she recovers well.


A lot of people just don't understand how to care for a sick person, or what the signs are that someone is seriously ill and needs help immediately. Two kids, one about 12 years old and the other a two-weeks old baby, have died in our area in the past two months because they got too little help too late. In both cases the situation sounded pretty innocent, but turned out to be critical. In the case of the baby I was told on a Friday that the child was "a little thin". I was going to see the baby on the Monday to help the mom with breastfeeding, but on Monday morning I was told the baby had died on the weekend. I was shocked, until I found out that the baby who was a "little thin" had actually lost 60% of their birth weight in their two weeks of life.


Anyways, all this has made me a little paranoid. Now, when I listen to prayer requests from the staff at morning devotions I am always thinking, "Okay...he said his child was sick and had a headache. What could that mean? How sick? How long? It is malaria? Is the child conscious? Can they eat and drink? Have they gone to the clinic?"


On Tuesday one of the workers asked for prayer. His brother's child was in the hospital and needed a blood transfusion. My paranoia kicked in. Blood? Why? How sick? Did he get the blood?

You see, if someone in Canada needs a blood transfusion, they get one. Right away. Here in Mozambique, things work a little differently. We're a little short on something called a blood bank. If you need blood you had better hope that there is a willing volunteer.


I happen to be blessed with extremely user-friendly type O blood, which means that almost anyone can enjoy my nutritious, plentiful blood in times of need. I asked a few questions, and found out that the little guy had not received blood, as there was no one to donate to him, so I decided to go in and donate. The hospital is only about 1/2 an hour away and also, well, mostly, I don't want people to die. Y'know?


And, like I said, I got plenty on tap.


Donating blood in Africa. It was something else.


It turned out to be kind of funny.

First things first, ensure that I don't have HIV. Here is my test. I don't have it. But it was still nervewracking. I kept thinking about how much my life would change if I found out I did have HIV.

Ouch. That is a big needle you so confidently jammed into my arm.

Tendai watches intrigued. This is understandable, because she is going to be a doctor one day...after she graduates from Julliard...on an athletic scholorship.

Tendai takes advantage of my weakened state to try and steal my hat.

They took half a litre in less than five minutes. Basically, the blood bag sat on one chair and I sat on a higher chair. Gravity then did it's job and suctioned my blood out at an alarming rate.

Did I mention it was a big needle? I could have used this sucker on our cow. No wonder my blood poured out of me like a fountain. Very efficient, though.

The highlight was when a nurse came into the lab and asked if I was sick. "No," I said. My Portuguese is pretty bad so all I could tell him was, "A child wants my blood." He looked at me as if I were deranged, and when I put myself into his shoes, it would sound pretty creepy.

And then last Thursday...

This is Magnum's cute face. He lives here on the farm with Rick and Heather.

This is Magnum's not so cute face when he gets stung by some mysterious insect and inflates rather dramatically, so that Lynn and I are paged (via Facebook) while we are making pizzas at her house to come to Magnum's house stat before he puffs up past the point of no return.

It took us a while because...what drugs do you give a dog? We had to look it up. And then we had to find the medication which took some time because we both have very bad eyesight and the printing on those medication vials is so small.

Ever wonder how much Benadryl you can inject into a dog? Just ask me. Magnum also got a needle from Lynn full of steriods and now he has an epipen, just in case. I have never heard of a dog with an epipen, but here one is, deep in the wilds of Mozambique.

Then Lynn and I want back to her house, pushed the injectable drugs to the side, and kept making pizzas. And then we laughed a little at how funny it is nursing in the bush. It's all very exciting.

So then on Friday...

Since I arrived in Mozambique the government has changed their visa regulations. This came as a bit of a surprise, as I was all set to apply for another visa here in Mozambique, only to find out that I had to leave the country.

How convenient that Zimbabwe is only about an hour and a half away.

Here is Matthew. Matthew is the farm adminstrator, but on Friday he got the job of taking me to Zimbabwe and back. Matthew spend quite a bit of his childhood in Zimbabwe, so I think he was a little bit excited about the trip.

I only have one picture from the border crossing (as you are not allowed to take pictures) but going into Zimbabwe was quite the adventure. First we went through customs on the Mozambique side. The customs agents stamped about 52 papers, wanted all possible information about about van including the serial number on the engine (...uh?), charged Matthew a tax for leaving his own country, and off we went. But only for a few meters before we were stopped and sent back to the customs office to provide more information about the van.

Eventually, we were on our way and drove through the no man's land between the two borders. Then we had to go through Zimbabwe customs. Once again, 52 papers were stamped, an entire precious page of my passport became home to one giant visa (granting me one day in Zim at the low, low cost of $75 USD) and all possible information about our van was recorded. We were also charged a carbon tax of $25 USD.

So, up we drove to the gate into Zim, where we were informed by a border guard with a gleam in his eye that we would have to purchase special car insurance for our time in Zimbabwe. This insurance was $120 USD. I choked. Also, the insurance building was back where we had come from, but we couldn't turn around because the traffice was lined up behind us. So, the border guard told me to give him my passport and my car information, drive through the border, and then walk back to the insurance office. I handed him my passport and jumped out to follow him...only to be stopped by the border guards. I couldn't come through! I didn't have a passport! Crazy white girl. They let Matthew go back through. So...I roamed around passportless in Zimbabwe hoping that Matthew would re-emerge and trying not to think about that movie where that guy gets stuck in the airport for years

.

Anyways, Matthew did come back with everything in order and we carried on our merry way.

Truth be told, in spite of the expensive border crossing, I quite enjoyed Zimbabwe. The border town was very quaint and delightful in spots and Matthew and I did our Christmas shopping.

And the mountains around the town were really green and beautiful.

This is coming home, back into Mozambique. Like I said, you aren't supposed to take pictures at the border but I just took this one. This was kind of a ridiculous thing for me to do, but I let my annoyance get the best of me and this was my small, pathetic act of rebellion. (This is all very embarrassing). I'm pretty sure at this point we were being hassled for more car information or something or being charged for who knows what. And why does the visa have to be so big! In the new year I am going to start writing African heads of state to suggest the manufacturing of new, SMALLER visa stickers. A passport only has so many pages, y'know?

Here, Matthew and I are happy to be done with border crossings and back home in Friendly Mozambique.

Hopefully the visas will continue so that I can stay!

One week...

Last week was very eventful. I usually spend the greater part of every day at my computer writing parts of the health manual or school curriculum. But, goodness gracious, this last week there were a few other things on the roster.

Sunday: Sick cow gets a big needle. I think I already mentioned this.

(Evidence of my foray into vetrinary medicine.)

Monday: Christmas party for orphans and widows in our sponsorship program. My heart overflowed with goodwill and gladness. Fabulous. It was fabulous.

(Joao helps out one of the littlest participants in the gunney sack race)

Tuesday: I get a big needle.

Wednesday:...what happened on Wednesday? Anyone? I think I went to a meeting or something.

Thursday: Sick dog gets two big needles and, on an unrelated note, we make pizza.

Friday: I have to go to Zimbabwe and back. Quite expensive and passport consuming. And hot. Have I mentioned that it is hot here this time of year?

(My gigantic visa from Zimbabwe. Note my angst.)

Saturday: Made lots and lots of Christmas cookies with Mrs. Boss. Decorated tree belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Boss. Watched "A Christmas Carol" with the Boss clan and pesky fellow short-termers.

It was a good week, though. One of the best ever. Hopefully THIS week I will have time to tell you more about it.

A little sigh...

The General has been under the weather for a few weeks. It has been a bit of a bummer. Actually, I can't think about it. It's too sad.

Today I had to go into the clinic, though, so I decided to ride a bike.

Our driveway is a few kilometres long.

It is all uphill from the farm to the road.

One of the pedals fell off early in my journey.

I need to learn perserverance though, so I kept riding....really slowly.

I made it into town and there was quite the sensation. Kids started running out of houses and falling out of mango trees, all so that they could point at me and yell. I don't speak the local dialect, but I'm pretty sure they were saying, "WHITE GIRL ON A BICYCLE! WHITE GIRL ON A BICYCLE!"

And it was really hot today.

Get well soon, General. Please, get well soon.

Some Sundays...

A typical Sunday in Three Hills:

Wake up.

Open one eye.

Stumble into kitchen.

Make coffee.

Drink coffee.

Open other eye.

Shower.

Brush teeth.

Begin the day.

This Sunday in Mozambique:

Wake up .

Open one eye.

Stumble into kitchen.

Start making coffee.

The boss drives up- one of the cows is sick, he says. It needs a shot.

Get into truck. Attempt to open other eye. Still wearing pajamas.

Get needle for cow. Quite dirty. Try to clean needle. Photos are taken.

Discussion ensues about where to inject cow.

Wonder where our copy of "Where There Is No Vetrinarian" might be.

Collectively decide to inject cow in the bum.

Go to cow pen.

Spy a smallish sort of cow lying near the fence. Relief.

No, says the boss. Not that cow. It's one of the larger males. Relief dissapates.

Let cows out of pen. Try and corral sick cow into another pen. I am not very helpful. I feel the cow is eyeing me.

Get sick cow into chute.

Attempt to inject. Needle breaks. Cow skin turns out to be rather different than human skin.

Attempt to inject again. Success. Cow doesn't even say "Moo." Photos are taken.

Back to camp. Go to house of boss.

Put water on to boil in order to sterilize needle.

Put water on to boil for coffee.

Have coffee with boss and Mrs. Boss.

Remember that I am still unwashed and in my PJ's.

Start heading home.

Stop to visit with other friends.

They are trying to kill a mouse with a broom handle.

I sit on the couch and watch.

The kill is a gruesome success. Photos are taken.

I go home.

Shower.

Brush teeth.

Begin the day.

Games children play...

I thought you might like to see some pictures from the Vacation Bible School that was held at our mission school during the first two weeks of November. I am going to have to break it up into several posts, as I am afraid of losing everything if I try and add too many pictures to one post.

So, here is the first collection of photos. These pictures were all taken during game time, by the very talented Heather Neufeld. I am photographically impaired, so I am grateful for her skills and her willingness to share.

I just like this picture so much. It is just a shot taken during a relay race, but the look on my face says a lot to me. Sometimes I find it hard to express just how I feel about being here, about Africa, but this picture captures a bit of it. This is my place.

This is little Tito. He is one of the kids enrolled in the orphan program. Tito doesn't want to go to school yet, but we shall provide him with wise counsel as to the importance of higher education. Surely he will come 'round.

We played one game where the kids raced wearing these huge hats with a beanbag balanced on top. The little ones were so cute, especially, practically blinded by hat.

Sometimes the grown-ups had to participate, too. In this shot I am just trying to figure out how to avoid participating in the part of the relay where we we're supposed to drink a cup of juice from a communal bucket. Every feeling revolts! I faked it and then made sure I lost the race in order to satisfy my guilty conscience.

And this may be one of my favorite photos of all time.