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May 1999
Dear friends,
A weather report and the passing speed of time seem to be the
first thoughts that come to mind when I sit down to write you.
So with only a simple bemoaning of the passage of time I'll jump
right to a weather update. As most of you emerge from winter and
spread your arms to gather any shards of warmth the sun may send
your way, we are grateful for a trend that shows signs of fall
and cooler days and nights. It's also the time of year for primroses
and pansies, daffodils, oranges, naartjies, and bananas, which
are easily plucked away by our local marauders (monkeys).
Memories of Maputo
As I left you last time I was preparing to go to Maputo, Mozambique,
for the Christmas holidays to visit American friends I had first
met when I lived in Malawi. It is also the home of Graca Machel,
wife of our about-to-retire president, "Madiba" Mandela.
The trip was one I care not repeat, the visiting of friends being
the reward sandwiched between a tortuous journey that was advertised
something like: "Durban to Maputo in 8 hours! Relax in the
luxury of an air-conditioned bus. Video and snacks provided."
As the saying goes, "If it sounds too good to be true, it
probably is!" Needless to say it was none of those wonderful
sounding things—and only made worse by the heat of the season—but
it did set the stage for the reality of life in this country that
reflects the ravages of many years of war at every blink of the
eye. Sobering and sad, with a pallor of unseen grey that seemed
to lay heavily over the country and its people, I was thankful
that I could leave after only two weeks.
Part of the nearly overwhelming angst I felt was the severity
of the extremes of wealth and poverty. With my friends (working
for the U.S. government there) I stayed in a large home protected
by gates and 24-hour security, ate well, celebrated the holidays
with other expatriate families living there, had a typical American
Christmas with gifts, carols and church Christmas program, only
to look around to see unsmiling faces of humanity taking life
a step at a time without thought beyond their next need. Our lifestyle
was extravagant only in its comparison to the life around us.
It was a constant slap in the face that was overwhelming in its
vastness, and which brought one crying to the feet of Jesus with
the recognition of what man can do to his own reflection when
he turns his back on our God of mercy and life.
Language lesson
Did you figure out any of the meanings of some of our local words
from last time? OK, see how you did. Panel beater (auto body shop),
bakkie (pick-up truck), lekker (nice or good, as in "Ummmm,
that's lekker!"), just now (some indefinite time in the future),
now now (a little sooner than soon), pudding (any kind of dessert),
boykie (little boy—what many parents call their male children),
tannie (Afrikaans for auntie, but also a term implying respect
and a degree of fear—a woman not to be messed with!), naartjie
(tangerine), dirtbin (garbage can or dust bin), isit (an innocuous
response to a comment, similar to "oh, really"). Isit!
She couldn't wait
Never having had children of my own so never knowing the experience
of giving birth, I was suddenly called upon to be a midwife when
the young lady staying on the property where I lived last year
prematurely went into labor in the middle of the night. Recognizing
the time was sooner rather than later, and having been told it
would be at least 30 minutes before an ambulance reached us, I
decided instead to try to get her to the car and drive her the
1 kilometre or so to the hospital near us. As she collapsed on
the walkway midway to the car I thought, "Uh oh! Lord, HEEEEEELLLP!"
As my roommate and I brought towels and blankets from the house,
trying to make Oliviah comfortable on the cement walk, jumping
up now and then to trigger the outside motion-detector light nearby,
I wondered, "What would Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, do now?"
It wasn't long before our little girl quietly slipped into the
world. I was there to catch her, turn her over, and hear a little
whimper before I laid her on a blanket, madly ran back into the
house and called a nursing friend to ask, "What now?!"
"Is she breathing?" "Thank God, yes." "Then
cut the umbilical cord, tie it, and wrap the baby up." Sounded
easy, but the cord seemed to have a life of its own, slithering
from my grasp until finally a clothes pin was put to the task.
When the ambulance finally arrived about 15 minutes later, we
handed Oliviah and our precious bundle to the medic, who only
grinned when he saw the clothes pin. Oliviah was home the next
afternoon, having walked that kilometre or so from the hospital
with baby in tow. Though still a bit small for her age, Sindizwe
is healthy and growing. She's a serious little thing, and has
no idea how she captured my heart at that incredible moment of
her birth. One day we'll take her to that spot on the walkway
at the corner of the house and show her just where her life here
began and tell her how God answered our cry for help that night!
Election prayer request
So much more to say but no more room for now. Except . . . please
pray for this nation as we head into the first national elections
with our new constitution on June 2. The threat of impending violence
lingers as we draw near, but our prayer is for a peaceful, fair
and open election. Also, Africa Enterprise has several groups
from churches in the United States coming to visit and participate
with us in ministry this summer, so we would appreciate your prayers
for them as well.
Until next time, may God's grace enfold you.
Cindy Easterday
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