This Baobab tree, in Liwonde National Park, Malawi, is over 300 years old.

April 30 - We traveled to southern Malawi to visit Liwonde National Park in Malawi. It was just an overnight safari, but it was a nice time to relax, enjoy God’s creation and take a lot of pictures. You can tell how relaxed I was by how late I’m posting this! Liwonde is known more for it’s variety of birds and has several game animals as well. The park claims to have 8 Black Rhinoceros. They are kept in a fenced off area of 50sq kilometer where visitors are not allowed. There is a bush plane landing strip inside the park where some people will fly into, mostly just for supplies for the camps because Liwonde is about 5 hours from Lilongwe. Just after we arrived, crossed the Shire River by boat and were settled in our chalets the rain started to pour. A few of us were joking about it being somewhat like Gilligan, a three hour tour, the weather getting rough and feeling lost out in the forest with all the animals. The Shire River is home to thousands of Hippopotamus and hundreds of Nile Crocodiles. There was the literal danger of hippos, elephants and crocodiles wandering into our camping area. It made things exciting at night! We were able to witness two elephants sparing, first in the water then they took the fight to land after getting upset with us in the boat. We were able to see many birds, plenty of hippos and enough ugly warthogs to last a lifetime. The park rangers say they’ve heard a couple of lions at the far end of the park, but have never spotted them. It’s not quite Zambia, but it was a nice place to relax!

Justin

Two elephants spar in the Shire River at Liwonde Nation park, Malawi.

It’s important you pronounce words correctly, in any language. Like in Chichewa you have Chambo (Fish), Chamba (Marijuana) or Chombe (Tea). Say the wrong word and you may end up in prison. Chambo is a fish that they eat here. I’ve never been one for fish, any fish. I used to like Fish-o-Fillet, but now I can just barely tolerate grilled tuna, which tastes less like fish. I think it’s just the fact that all fish tastes the same, fishy. Sometimes I don’t even like going to lakes or the beach because it smells fishy. The delicacy here is small fish caught by the hundreds in small streams and rivers. They serve them by the hundreds as well. I’ve encountered them before, but never had to eat them, not like they do here anyway, whole. I was with some other Americans when they were served for lunch before. It was one of those situations where you hope no one notices your reaction, or the fact that you got up, left and had lunch somewhere else. Well, we were busted. They saw the whole thing but found it more hilarious than offensive. Today I went to the kitchen to get a drink and Phillip had just started to prepare lunch. I noticed that he was getting ready to cook the little fish again. We started joking about the last time and moved quickly to topics of other recipes for other great dishes. I decided I would actually try them. Never say you don’t like something if you’ve never tried it, unless it’s fish. It wasn’t too bad, but still tasted fishy. They were fried in oil and some were a little burnt. It was like eating a really burnt potato chip that had an aftertaste of fish. I ended up eating the rice and passing on the rest of the small delicacies.

Justin

A blessing of hope came the other day. I was home early after a full day of activities in the villages. I was kind of feeling down because it gets dark here by about 6pm, places close up, and I didn’t have transportation to make it to dinner with the Valley Presbyterian team from Arizona. I decided to walk to the Crisis Nursery to visit the infants. I had hopes of seeing William, but was handed another child, Patricia, who also needs love and a bottle of formula. I sat there talking with a man from Germany who is now living in Malawi. He and his wife were there to visit a child they are hoping to adopt. The father of the little girl doesn’t want to give her up, but also doesn’t want the financial responsibility of the child either. Ministry of Hope has the only Crisis Nurseries in Malawi, one in Lilongwe and one in Mzuzu. The problem that is seen is that the families don’t want to give up their children for adoption, but want the Nursery and other programs to fund and care for the children until they are 18. At that age the child will reunite with the family. It’s a little selfish, but is completely understandable.

After I had fed Patricia and she had fallen asleep in my arms, I took her back to the infant’s room to place her in her bed. I was able to situate her in her crib without waking her up. I started looking at the other infants there, about 10 in one room, and was hoping William was still awake. I wanted to share Christ’s love with him again, and feel a portion of the love God has for us through him. I couldn’t find him in where his bed was. I didn’t see his name on any of the beds. I thought that maybe he was sick and in the other room (where the infants who are ill are placed to prevent cross contamination). I couldn’t just walk in there, so I asked where he was. They had a tough time explaining in English what had happened. Today I went back with the mission team before they left for home today. I was able to get the story from the nurse who had originally instructed me to stay the extra months. She said that he had gone home with an aunt. His mother’s sister was still around and is, so far, willing to care for William. This is a blessing for him! It was a little sad to hear, but then I realized I was being selfish. Sometime the family isn’t able to care for the child, so they “give back” the infant to the Nursery. Hopefully, William will continue to grow up with his family!

Please pray that William’s family is able to continue caring for him!

Justin

This is the story of William, one of God’s little ones. William was born into this world in a developing country. His mother gave birth to twins, William being one of them. I had the chance to see his story, somewhat through his eyes, or rather in his eyes. He has big brown eyes, curly hair, and feet that could grip onto anything and a somewhat sad look on his face. About a month after William was born his mother died from hypertension. No father was found. He and his sister were taken to Ministry of Hope’s Crisis Nursery in Lilongwe. Several weeks after coming to the Crisis Nursery William’s sister also died. When any child is brought into the Crisis Nursery, it is usually because they need special attention that the family members cannot afford to give. Until the infants reach about nine months old, they stay at the Nursery. At the end of nine months they are returned to the guardians, most of the time close relatives who will care for them. In rare cases, cases that are becoming more often because of HIV/AIDS, the child has no family and will hopefully be adopted. In William’s case his grandmother was still living, so he had a place to go. I held William the whole time we were there that day. Now, he had been on my mind for a week or so. We got the chance to visit the Nursery again today; we are only staying about one hundred yards away, but have been busy. When we got there I was headed to find William. He had just been changed, and was in the arms of a caretaker who, when she saw me, immediately handed him to me. So many times they are ready to have help holding the babies, so this was an amazing chance that it was William. I was told that he would put his hands on either side of his face, and the staff said this was because of losing both his mother and sister. It’s kind of a “Caretaker’s” tale. I had yet to see him smile. I had been holding William for about a half an hour, when one of the caretakers handed me a bottle to feed him. After feeding him, I took him outside to get some fresh air and sit down to hold him. While sitting there trying my hardest to get him to smile, with the caretakers looking at my as though I was losing my mind, William smiled! Not only that but he started talking (gaga-ing) at me!

I wished I had more time to stay there, but we had to get going. I asked the head nurse about the progress of William’s story. It’s part of my mission when holding any of the infants, to learn their story as well as letting God’s love flow through me to the hearts of the children. She had said a week ago that the grandmother was going to be the one to take care of William. She continued to explain today that they had received word the grandmother was sick and, in the last day or so, had passed away. I couldn’t help just standing there not wanting to put William down, knowing that he is the last one in his family. The last in his family. William is four months old. I have this connection into this child’s life. An inside look into his world. His story is unique, but also common here. The nurse instructed me that I needed to stay for eighteen months (the time required to adopt in Malawi).

What part of your heart does this story crush? Any? I hope so! You are welcome to come hold these children, children with no parents, no family, but all the hope in the world. Hope because these are God’s children! God calls us to share His Love, to be His hands and to look after these little ones.

-Justin

I wanted to tell a story about a man. The man’s name is Samuel Banda. Short of being named “David Banda” this man’s name is like “John Smith” in the United States, a very common name. There is nothing common about Samuel. Samuel is a Malawian and he is an artist. Many Malawians provide for themselves and their family through the arts of painting, carving, weaving and sewing. So, when I met Samuel it should have been like meeting any other Malawian entrepreneur, “Excuse me, Boss” or, “Sir” and continuing with trying to sell me their art work, bananas or some random piece of electronics that I really don’t need, or care for. What am I going to do with a tape player, a power cord, pirated CD’s/DVD’s or a curling iron. I take that back about the DVD’s; they came in handy last year! We were getting ready to head out to Nkhoma to visit the hospital. I had just dropped my “Sofa” family off at the airport and was meeting the rest of the group at the Seven-Eleven Café. I locked the car door, and turned to head inside when from behind me I heard a voice. “Excuse me, Boss.” I turned to see Samuel standing behind me. At first, when I saw him I thought he was going to beg for money, a handout of some kind. When he said he wanted to show me something I decided to give in and engage him in conversation. I stepped towards him with a, “Yes?” I noticed something about him that was different, that is why I thought he was going to ask for money. He pulled out some painting that he had done and wanted to sell me one. I was gracious enough to look at them, but I thought they were going to look horrible because of what I noticed about him. He took some time to get them and rolled them out on the front of the truck, as best he could. I was actually shocked to see some of the paintings. I questioned his method and use of paint. “Water based.” I asked how much. “800 Kwacha ($5.50) each.” I thought of buying one to support this man, he had worked so hard to do these. I ended up buying three at a discount price of 1800 Kwacha. I gave him 2000. This would have been a normal day for me, except I gave in to what I had felt when I was home. I should have been able to talk him down to about 1200 for all three. For some reason I couldn’t do this. It was a combination of things. To say I felt sorry for him would be a lie, it was that I was willing to support someone who would work so hard at what he does. You see, Samuel doesn’t have any hands. When he was young he fell into the family’s fire, landing with his hands in the fire. Because of the lack of the family’s finances and inadequate healthcare, Samuel developed an infection in the burns on his hand and ended up losing both of them. He uses a combination of his wrists and mouth to paint these pictures. He doesn’t speak English much at all, but enough to convey his story.

-Justin