to post a couple times this week. and i hit this wall. donald miller would tell me that all writers face that and that is what it means to be a writer, you make yourself write. maybe that is why so many people do it part time. don also gets sick of writing about himself. i feel like i am tired of writing my story too, perhaps I should start doing random profiles on my friends to spice things up.
This week is report back, that means we recap over the last eleven months on what we have seen G*od do. I think everyone should do this-not only those who have been catching babies in other nations. You can never underestimate the power of sitting and talking to another person, praying together, admitting we went wrong, making a game plan for what's next and how we are going to do it with G*od.
Here is some of where I have ended up...
HOPE. Always.
G*od freely gives his perspective when we are in awful situations.
We don't always like the system, but look at the fruit because it has been in place.
I am constantly given the opportunity to take the wide or the narrow.
Am I choosing G*od?
There is much more and I need to think more and talk more and WRITE more...
for now there are 15 students flying out on 15 different planes over 3 days.
I am working on getting my Australian license this week to help with the airport runs, its about time.
Bless you guys, thanks for the read. Hoping this will become a bit more regular.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
a little diddy
a little something from my good friend, chantal anderson. check out her work.
http://clpmag.org/article.php?article=How-to-Deliver-a-Baby-without-a-Doctor_00283
http://clpmag.org/article.php?article=How-to-Deliver-a-Baby-without-a-Doctor_00283
Monday, April 04, 2011
this is what i came for.
this week an exciting discovery was made. the dear chantal anderson from seattle made friends (are we surprised?) with a man who owns a copy shop and also has dial up speed internet. eeeek. so today, i came to right you all a little update about life here in desh.
we arrived here on the 20th of march and stayed in the capital city for two days. we made a nine hour journey out to a village to be greeted by innumerable sets of staring eyes (later we found that it has been 10 years since foreigners have set foot in this village). a chipper midwife from england, we will call her "sister", has lived here since 1968, and helped us make contact with this untouched land. she made arrangements for us to stay at the hospital. so currently, we live about a two minute walk from the front door of bollophur hospital. there are 98 nursing students who have welcomed us with curious looks and open arms. our house is the new "cool" hangout. luckily i have more than 100 friends who will come at the drop of a hat when i fail to light the fire once again for making dinner for the team.
the dynamic of this location means that small teams go out for a week or a day at a time and then we reunite once a week as a whole group. it has come with its challenges but also with its blessings. this week a small team of 2 students midwives were able to travel to three villages and do satellite antenatal clinics for women who wouldn't usually have the chance to get ANC. they also were able to minister hope to a woman whose daughter committed suicide 2 years ago. poisioning with insecticides is a common occurance, three times this week at the hospital, patients came in who had poisoned themselves. it seems there is an underlying sense of unhappiness-caused by poverty, arranged marriages and more that drives people to do this. all the more reason to talk about J*sus.
i have been challenged and pushed to see G*d more while leading this team alone. G*d is the source of every good thing, and I want to give tes*imony to the fact that he has continued to lead and guide me in leading our team. We miss the team in India, but facebook and text messages are keeping us connected.
just a small update, thanks for all the support and pr*yers. i have felt them so much this week especially.
we arrived here on the 20th of march and stayed in the capital city for two days. we made a nine hour journey out to a village to be greeted by innumerable sets of staring eyes (later we found that it has been 10 years since foreigners have set foot in this village). a chipper midwife from england, we will call her "sister", has lived here since 1968, and helped us make contact with this untouched land. she made arrangements for us to stay at the hospital. so currently, we live about a two minute walk from the front door of bollophur hospital. there are 98 nursing students who have welcomed us with curious looks and open arms. our house is the new "cool" hangout. luckily i have more than 100 friends who will come at the drop of a hat when i fail to light the fire once again for making dinner for the team.
the dynamic of this location means that small teams go out for a week or a day at a time and then we reunite once a week as a whole group. it has come with its challenges but also with its blessings. this week a small team of 2 students midwives were able to travel to three villages and do satellite antenatal clinics for women who wouldn't usually have the chance to get ANC. they also were able to minister hope to a woman whose daughter committed suicide 2 years ago. poisioning with insecticides is a common occurance, three times this week at the hospital, patients came in who had poisoned themselves. it seems there is an underlying sense of unhappiness-caused by poverty, arranged marriages and more that drives people to do this. all the more reason to talk about J*sus.
i have been challenged and pushed to see G*d more while leading this team alone. G*d is the source of every good thing, and I want to give tes*imony to the fact that he has continued to lead and guide me in leading our team. We miss the team in India, but facebook and text messages are keeping us connected.
just a small update, thanks for all the support and pr*yers. i have felt them so much this week especially.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
i went to kenya!
and boy did we see victory. we needed visas for Bangladesh. I tell you what, when you want to see victory, go to a foreign visa office and ask G*d to do it for you and he shows up.
on our journey, i was able to share hope in G*d several times, long bus rides are awesome. East africans are so sick of corruption. It happens right in front of you, the government repossessing vehicles without good reason, prostitutes paying the police off with their evening earnings...the list goes on. so, what is the answer to this? millions of aid has been poured into africa, and what is changing? nothing. churches are everywhere, and people fill them multiple times a week. so what is it?
The kingdom of G*d has not yet come here. We need to see movement from heaven to earth. A kingdom not of words, but of power.
I believe Kenya needs to go back to the principles of the B*ble and they will see change. In the 70s, Kenya and South Korea were neck and neck economically. Kenya remains in the same place while S. Korea has blasted forward. So what is different? S. Korea who had shunned the g*spel for years and years allowed the church to come in, the underground church had developed perseverance and was ready to speak up, people came back to the L*rd. Their lives CHANGED, they followed the principles of J*sus with obedience, they devoted themselves to prayer and intercession and God blessed that.
So, this is the answer we need to be diligent in our walks with G*d, seriously allowing the transforming of our minds to happen, welcome discipleship, believe for miracles, believe that heaven will come to earth.
that's a bit of a rant.
okay, bless you wonderful people. i love this land. thanks for keeping up with the posts even though they have been few and far between.
on our journey, i was able to share hope in G*d several times, long bus rides are awesome. East africans are so sick of corruption. It happens right in front of you, the government repossessing vehicles without good reason, prostitutes paying the police off with their evening earnings...the list goes on. so, what is the answer to this? millions of aid has been poured into africa, and what is changing? nothing. churches are everywhere, and people fill them multiple times a week. so what is it?
The kingdom of G*d has not yet come here. We need to see movement from heaven to earth. A kingdom not of words, but of power.
I believe Kenya needs to go back to the principles of the B*ble and they will see change. In the 70s, Kenya and South Korea were neck and neck economically. Kenya remains in the same place while S. Korea has blasted forward. So what is different? S. Korea who had shunned the g*spel for years and years allowed the church to come in, the underground church had developed perseverance and was ready to speak up, people came back to the L*rd. Their lives CHANGED, they followed the principles of J*sus with obedience, they devoted themselves to prayer and intercession and God blessed that.
So, this is the answer we need to be diligent in our walks with G*d, seriously allowing the transforming of our minds to happen, welcome discipleship, believe for miracles, believe that heaven will come to earth.
that's a bit of a rant.
okay, bless you wonderful people. i love this land. thanks for keeping up with the posts even though they have been few and far between.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
hang in there...
hmm, i am having difficulties with my monthly updates, i apologize. stick with me... for now, i will have to figure something out but will keep posting here in the meantime. cheers!
Saturday, February 05, 2011
more than a month into it...
and I find myself imagining being in africa long term. this is where i love to be.
enough about the future, how about the present?
each year G*od brings me back to his character. in seeing life, death and everything else in between, i have to ask difficult questions, and now even process these difficult questions with students. death doesn't get easier as you experience it more... i think it could because we have the choice to stay soft or get hard.
there have been moments of hardening, and these moments distance me from the heart of a G*od who feels the pain of his people every moment of every day. it seems so much easier in the moment to not feel and get hard, but down the track i have realized that i miss out on the impartation of his heart-a heart of compassion, one that desires long term change, a heart that is also yearning for the kingdom of light...
we had one maternal death last week due to eclampsia, a condition unique to pregnancy, characterized by convulsions, high BP and proteinuria. we had another mother die this week. and we have had too many fetal deaths to count. but both last week and this week, a baby raised from the dead. in the midst of death, i have to cling on to the giver of life, whose heart is for life, abundantly. whose heart is that no longer would an infant live but a few days, the man who lives to be 100 hundred would be thought of as a mere youth, that women will not labour in vain. his heart is to give life and life abundantly even when an enemy seeks to kill and destroy.
draw near my friends, as we draw near to him, he is there to meet us.
i tried uploading photos, no luck. maybe next time. bless you guys, thanks for reading.
enough about the future, how about the present?
each year G*od brings me back to his character. in seeing life, death and everything else in between, i have to ask difficult questions, and now even process these difficult questions with students. death doesn't get easier as you experience it more... i think it could because we have the choice to stay soft or get hard.
there have been moments of hardening, and these moments distance me from the heart of a G*od who feels the pain of his people every moment of every day. it seems so much easier in the moment to not feel and get hard, but down the track i have realized that i miss out on the impartation of his heart-a heart of compassion, one that desires long term change, a heart that is also yearning for the kingdom of light...
we had one maternal death last week due to eclampsia, a condition unique to pregnancy, characterized by convulsions, high BP and proteinuria. we had another mother die this week. and we have had too many fetal deaths to count. but both last week and this week, a baby raised from the dead. in the midst of death, i have to cling on to the giver of life, whose heart is for life, abundantly. whose heart is that no longer would an infant live but a few days, the man who lives to be 100 hundred would be thought of as a mere youth, that women will not labour in vain. his heart is to give life and life abundantly even when an enemy seeks to kill and destroy.
draw near my friends, as we draw near to him, he is there to meet us.
i tried uploading photos, no luck. maybe next time. bless you guys, thanks for reading.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
i have arrived back to tanzania.
and this land greets me with its warm breeze, magnificent palm trees and deep sandy footpaths.
the staff have crossed over in a hurry, my skin has become accustomed to sweaty situations and a huge pile of washing awaits me.
adjustments have been made and i am back in my element of high intensity situations that occur on a daily basis at the hospital, i love it, absolutely. my Swahili is weak but finding its superiority to english. and my desire to shave my head grows daily...its just so...practical.
one day this week, there were two deliveries with cord twice around the neck and one more with cord three times around the neck...all screamed shortly after delivery.
this week, two deliveries where the babies were born with no heartbeat but were screaming within 15 minutes.
i give you glory G*d because my human hands are not powerful. it is the power of Ch*ist in us.
the staff have crossed over in a hurry, my skin has become accustomed to sweaty situations and a huge pile of washing awaits me.
adjustments have been made and i am back in my element of high intensity situations that occur on a daily basis at the hospital, i love it, absolutely. my Swahili is weak but finding its superiority to english. and my desire to shave my head grows daily...its just so...practical.
one day this week, there were two deliveries with cord twice around the neck and one more with cord three times around the neck...all screamed shortly after delivery.
this week, two deliveries where the babies were born with no heartbeat but were screaming within 15 minutes.
i give you glory G*d because my human hands are not powerful. it is the power of Ch*ist in us.
Monday, December 27, 2010
christmas came early
tonight we leave for tanzania. i probably don't have time to be blogging, but i am. i want to thank the L*rd for what happened last week. we need gloves every outreach and every year we ask and ask and ask...we don't always get donations but we always scrape by...see below for what happened last week...
ansell donated a BUNCH, I mean thousands upon thousands of sterile and non-sterile, both are needs of ours...
christmas came early this year for us :) thanks you j*sus.
next post i will be in east africa. (unless i have something to say before then.)
ansell donated a BUNCH, I mean thousands upon thousands of sterile and non-sterile, both are needs of ours...
christmas came early this year for us :) thanks you j*sus.
next post i will be in east africa. (unless i have something to say before then.)
Sunday, December 19, 2010
part 6...debrief
and so we were prepared to leave the stan...
i left with new knowledge about the needs of a nation. my heart having been opened to how oppressed women can be in an Islamic nation, and what happens when we say yes to G*d-things change, his kingdom comes...in small ways but little bursts...
the whole time, emily and i felt as if we were merely representatives of the people of the nations that cared for the flood victims and passed on your love and care to the people there.
i don't know that all the lessons of the trip have been absorbed yet to the point where that can be expressed in words, and that's okay, i still have time to mull over it. but i think part 6 is the end of my stani posts. thanks for sticking with me through it...it took me a while...but we made it.
i left with new knowledge about the needs of a nation. my heart having been opened to how oppressed women can be in an Islamic nation, and what happens when we say yes to G*d-things change, his kingdom comes...in small ways but little bursts...
the whole time, emily and i felt as if we were merely representatives of the people of the nations that cared for the flood victims and passed on your love and care to the people there.
i don't know that all the lessons of the trip have been absorbed yet to the point where that can be expressed in words, and that's okay, i still have time to mull over it. but i think part 6 is the end of my stani posts. thanks for sticking with me through it...it took me a while...but we made it.
part 5....
not really knowing what to expect, except that G*od had spoken for us to offer ourselves, we landed and exited the plane, dressed appropriately for the culture, but still receiving countless stares. i was adjusting to emily taking the lead and remaining quiet when we were interacting with someone older than us. this usually involved me staring at the floor and occupying my thoughts with the thought that "women just get used to this".
not too long after we'd arrived we were met by our hosts who guided us to the car. with them were three lovely ladies-stella, enum and priya, each of them was enrolled in their d school. the hosts-an american and a british-stani, shared their heart for the land and introduced us to the music of the land. the american-an ethnomusicologist, had come to the stan to study the music and essentially left his heart there and kept returning and now spends about half the year there. The british-stani started a lot of the work and continues to be the voice that directs the happenings. both incredibly welcoming and encouraged by the visit.
the days began at 6am-quiet time, 7am-team prayer, 8am-breakfast....that worked one day only. We quickly realized that these people were night crawlers...in bed by 2 or 3 or 4am, not up until 10-11ish...The first couple days we saw that we were missing a lot of what was going on, and we needed to adjust! I specifically had a hard time and felt like I should stop wearing my watch so that I could adjust to the people, not the time.
Our days were filled with...
inter-sesh times that are remembered fondly, times of an open heaven, a land thirsting for focused pr*yer...
getting a heart for a nation (that I knew next to nothing about) through conversation, reading news articles and listening to more music...
eating lots of excellent food, plenty of tea, learning to cook and serve the tea as the women do...
preparing clothing and food to distribute to the families affected by the flood whom we would eventually meet...
and doing health care teachings for the those who were d-school students...these were some of the best moments...these students had a long term commitment to reaching the victims of the flood. so even if we weren't able to love on these people, care for them, give health care to them, we were able to extend our knowledge to the people who would be with them. and they were so excited about learning, they were great students and recited the songs and teachings for the days following the teachings.
our last three-four days were spent journeying to go and meet the flood victims. i guess in my head i'd had this idea of how a government, or the leaders of a nation, get together and make these plans in case of natural disasters/bombings/no resources... so when things like a flood happen, they get together and say "Okay boys, just like we practiced, plan 242C (pull down chart from the wall, all gathered in matching uniforms sigh and agree), places everyone!" and then the officials go for it and take care of all the people... well it doesn't happen like this as i found, no organized vehichles to take people to camps, no designated resources for those who lost everything...
what we came upon was groups of men and women, camped out on high places, scrounging together all that they had to care for their family...quilts as their roof, a hammock attached to a wooden frame for the family bed, and a pot and a pan. the conditions were meager at best...they had lost nearly everything...the crops, the clothing, the food. most of the people we met it had been their first time to receive anything, this was 6 weeks post flood. I don't know what they had been living off of. they were completely isolated as well, no where near the city, these are people that survive off of an agricultural income and all their fields were submerged in water.
at one place we tried to distribute the goods to people and it ended in a riot, people fighting each other, ripping food and clothing out of each others' hands. there is an unbuilt fear that there just isn't enough, only the strongest will survive...this is the fruit of poverty-it leaves people without choices.
some of the most memorable moments for me was the eagerness of the pregnant mothers to see how their babies were doing. what a confession of hope in a devastating situation-pregnancy...new life is coming...
one mother was in labour with a baby that could not be delivered normally, we were able to encourage her family and we ensured that there was transport coming for here.
one baby with a cleft lip had not been fed in days. the women were telling the mother it was impossible for her to feed the baby, so she had stopped trying. the wee baby was so flaccid, and had all the markings of dehydrated. we were able to have a little time of helping the mom attach, with all the nay-saying women around, and they saw that the baby could in fact attach and feed...beautifully. that was to me such a miracle, a baby who had been without milk for around 3-4 days, that he had the strength to nurse, and do it well. the mother smiled as we left her with a suckling baby.
another couple of mothers, absolutely anaemic, but pregnant, and so joyful. a couple of babies who had not moved for days and we could not detect a heartbeat-i continue to wonder what happened in these cases.
in each of these cases-we had a government official's wife with us (she visited often she said and was able to help with translation)! her eyes were opened to the need of the pregnant women and you could see her heart for the people was massive. she was our advocate when we saw a need that we simply couldn't meet, she was onto it.
not too long after we'd arrived we were met by our hosts who guided us to the car. with them were three lovely ladies-stella, enum and priya, each of them was enrolled in their d school. the hosts-an american and a british-stani, shared their heart for the land and introduced us to the music of the land. the american-an ethnomusicologist, had come to the stan to study the music and essentially left his heart there and kept returning and now spends about half the year there. The british-stani started a lot of the work and continues to be the voice that directs the happenings. both incredibly welcoming and encouraged by the visit.
the days began at 6am-quiet time, 7am-team prayer, 8am-breakfast....that worked one day only. We quickly realized that these people were night crawlers...in bed by 2 or 3 or 4am, not up until 10-11ish...The first couple days we saw that we were missing a lot of what was going on, and we needed to adjust! I specifically had a hard time and felt like I should stop wearing my watch so that I could adjust to the people, not the time.
Our days were filled with...
inter-sesh times that are remembered fondly, times of an open heaven, a land thirsting for focused pr*yer...
getting a heart for a nation (that I knew next to nothing about) through conversation, reading news articles and listening to more music...
eating lots of excellent food, plenty of tea, learning to cook and serve the tea as the women do...
preparing clothing and food to distribute to the families affected by the flood whom we would eventually meet...
and doing health care teachings for the those who were d-school students...these were some of the best moments...these students had a long term commitment to reaching the victims of the flood. so even if we weren't able to love on these people, care for them, give health care to them, we were able to extend our knowledge to the people who would be with them. and they were so excited about learning, they were great students and recited the songs and teachings for the days following the teachings.
our last three-four days were spent journeying to go and meet the flood victims. i guess in my head i'd had this idea of how a government, or the leaders of a nation, get together and make these plans in case of natural disasters/bombings/no resources... so when things like a flood happen, they get together and say "Okay boys, just like we practiced, plan 242C (pull down chart from the wall, all gathered in matching uniforms sigh and agree), places everyone!" and then the officials go for it and take care of all the people... well it doesn't happen like this as i found, no organized vehichles to take people to camps, no designated resources for those who lost everything...
what we came upon was groups of men and women, camped out on high places, scrounging together all that they had to care for their family...quilts as their roof, a hammock attached to a wooden frame for the family bed, and a pot and a pan. the conditions were meager at best...they had lost nearly everything...the crops, the clothing, the food. most of the people we met it had been their first time to receive anything, this was 6 weeks post flood. I don't know what they had been living off of. they were completely isolated as well, no where near the city, these are people that survive off of an agricultural income and all their fields were submerged in water.
at one place we tried to distribute the goods to people and it ended in a riot, people fighting each other, ripping food and clothing out of each others' hands. there is an unbuilt fear that there just isn't enough, only the strongest will survive...this is the fruit of poverty-it leaves people without choices.
some of the most memorable moments for me was the eagerness of the pregnant mothers to see how their babies were doing. what a confession of hope in a devastating situation-pregnancy...new life is coming...
one mother was in labour with a baby that could not be delivered normally, we were able to encourage her family and we ensured that there was transport coming for here.
one baby with a cleft lip had not been fed in days. the women were telling the mother it was impossible for her to feed the baby, so she had stopped trying. the wee baby was so flaccid, and had all the markings of dehydrated. we were able to have a little time of helping the mom attach, with all the nay-saying women around, and they saw that the baby could in fact attach and feed...beautifully. that was to me such a miracle, a baby who had been without milk for around 3-4 days, that he had the strength to nurse, and do it well. the mother smiled as we left her with a suckling baby.
another couple of mothers, absolutely anaemic, but pregnant, and so joyful. a couple of babies who had not moved for days and we could not detect a heartbeat-i continue to wonder what happened in these cases.
in each of these cases-we had a government official's wife with us (she visited often she said and was able to help with translation)! her eyes were opened to the need of the pregnant women and you could see her heart for the people was massive. she was our advocate when we saw a need that we simply couldn't meet, she was onto it.
Saturday, December 04, 2010
this has been the longest silence...
i know our life has waves of busyness and chaos, but this has been the longest silence my blog has ever seen...i don't know that any pattern of life makes this excusable...
hmm...i need to finish about the stan and so much more.
sorry rachel. :( it has been on my mind a lot lately to work on this, but right now is not the time.
hmm...i need to finish about the stan and so much more.
sorry rachel. :( it has been on my mind a lot lately to work on this, but right now is not the time.
Monday, October 25, 2010
part four...scroll down for part one!
the weekend was full of brazilian friends, hillsong and delectable home made feasts...emily and i rocked up at the consulate. over the weekend we had learned that because of my youth and emily's years of experience beyond mine, she should be the one to do the talking. i should not even make eye contact or anything close...leave it to emily. we had received a letter from a goverment official in the stan endorsing not only the foundation we were working with but emily and i...we'd put the final touches on some paperwork, saw more finance come in, and really pressed in through inter-sesh.
over and over emily practiced our new government "friend's" name, so when she needed to reference the letter, his name could roll trippingly off her tongue. we entered the consulate as soon as it opened-although the desk we needed was not open for another hour and a half. we stared off into space, occasionally getting the urge to make the other laugh...i thought about having a quiet time, reading the word, and then realized that most likely the worst thing i could do. the time was passed by a little boy and his father, waiting for visa. the little boy did not listen to his father at all, rather his inner spider man, which made for much entertainment. at the stroke of eleven, our friend who had told us "NO!" and then given us the stipulations rocked up (emily and i accidently looked at him and smiled) and without even making eye contact with us said-"your letter has come through, your visas will be issued today". and so we held the building excitement until we organized our passports,etc. and then let it all out in the elevator ride-"AHHHHHHHH!".
thus began our frantic ticket booking, inter-sesh, final finance collaboration and insurance purchasing. we saw each dollar needed for the tickets, visas and insurance come through...how phenominal is our G*od.
that night we were on the plane through dubai and to our final destination.
over and over emily practiced our new government "friend's" name, so when she needed to reference the letter, his name could roll trippingly off her tongue. we entered the consulate as soon as it opened-although the desk we needed was not open for another hour and a half. we stared off into space, occasionally getting the urge to make the other laugh...i thought about having a quiet time, reading the word, and then realized that most likely the worst thing i could do. the time was passed by a little boy and his father, waiting for visa. the little boy did not listen to his father at all, rather his inner spider man, which made for much entertainment. at the stroke of eleven, our friend who had told us "NO!" and then given us the stipulations rocked up (emily and i accidently looked at him and smiled) and without even making eye contact with us said-"your letter has come through, your visas will be issued today". and so we held the building excitement until we organized our passports,etc. and then let it all out in the elevator ride-"AHHHHHHHH!".
thus began our frantic ticket booking, inter-sesh, final finance collaboration and insurance purchasing. we saw each dollar needed for the tickets, visas and insurance come through...how phenominal is our G*od.
that night we were on the plane through dubai and to our final destination.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
this is the story all about how...part three...this is getting longer than expected...
And Friday morning, we arrived on the other side. We had exactly 1 1/2 hours to get to the embassy, plead our case and get our visas, hoping to fly out that day.
After hopping off the plane, we jumped on the train and briskly walked to St. Martin's Place in Sydney. Home of the consulates, and the fountain from the Matrix.
We took the elevator to floor seven, whipped out our official paperwork and invitation from an NGO and they looked at the paperwork and said "No, we cannot issue your visas, you are not Australian citizens. You need to apply from your countries." Not having come all that way to hear that, we said "Is there someone else we can talk to?" We arranged our meeting with the Consular General for two hours later.
We went to Hyde Park, chilled out, finished our airplane snacks, spent time with J*sus and then stormed the heavens together. Before we knew it, we were back in the office of the only person who stood between us and the flood relief victims. He was clothed in a suit that would have paid for both of our airfare, had the physique of a cricketer and had adorned his coffee table with a photo of him shaking hands with George Bush. He seemed important. And as we pleaded our case...without any warm fuzzies, he gave us some new info..."No one wants to be responsible for your ladies' lives. If I stamp your passports and something happens to you, I am in trouble." (This was the first of many insights into the instability of the nation. Everyone is afraid to mess up, no one wants to be responsible and actually it is quite unsafe for westerners, especially Americans--because we threaten to burn qur'ans, etc.) And then we basically asked, "what can we do to make this happen?" and he said "Get me a letter that endorses your NGO and takes responsibility for you from a government official and as soon as I receive that, I will give them to you. I will be here until 5 pm, and if it comes in before then, no problem, I will give them to you."
We made some more phone calls, found out that there had been a stabbing of a political figure who had taken political assylum in London and that things were potentially moving towards a declared 10 days mourning. This also meant that we would be delayed in getting our letter. Our contact in the UK was confident that it was possible though, we knew what we needed and now all we needed was time and we would get our visa.
And me? I was discouraged, tired and wanted to crawl under the lounge in the waiting room and fall into a deep sleep of hybernation. But Emily was right there, speaking truth, telling me that we knew what needed to happen, but we needed time and hey, we get the weekend in Sydney. A little bit earlier she had gone to the store while I had made some phone calls and in that time she had bought some sustenance. That was the best time ever to be surprised with a roll of sushi and a mini fish full of soy sauce. We toasted for what was to come. We remained in the lobby of this large commercial building there for the next couple hours, decompressing, downing hummus and listening to a man snore who was on the couch next to us. At one point the consular general walked past us and with a hint of soft heartedness said "Hey, if your letter comes this weekend, give me a ring." We smiled at each other, hopeful for this kind glimmer, even though we didn't have his number.
So a little more settled, Emily and I started to consider the fact that it was approaching 7pm and we had no place to stay and we were going to be in Sydney until Monday.
Alas, we live in a massive community where everyone seems to know someone, we were connected to some very kind people, now dear friends, that allowed us to stay at their flats, fed us to no end, showed us around and sent us out from Sydney after making us a priority all weekend. We love you Marcia and Jacob! Did you know there is a large Japanese population in Brazil? I never knew...
Onto part four...
After hopping off the plane, we jumped on the train and briskly walked to St. Martin's Place in Sydney. Home of the consulates, and the fountain from the Matrix.
We took the elevator to floor seven, whipped out our official paperwork and invitation from an NGO and they looked at the paperwork and said "No, we cannot issue your visas, you are not Australian citizens. You need to apply from your countries." Not having come all that way to hear that, we said "Is there someone else we can talk to?" We arranged our meeting with the Consular General for two hours later.
We went to Hyde Park, chilled out, finished our airplane snacks, spent time with J*sus and then stormed the heavens together. Before we knew it, we were back in the office of the only person who stood between us and the flood relief victims. He was clothed in a suit that would have paid for both of our airfare, had the physique of a cricketer and had adorned his coffee table with a photo of him shaking hands with George Bush. He seemed important. And as we pleaded our case...without any warm fuzzies, he gave us some new info..."No one wants to be responsible for your ladies' lives. If I stamp your passports and something happens to you, I am in trouble." (This was the first of many insights into the instability of the nation. Everyone is afraid to mess up, no one wants to be responsible and actually it is quite unsafe for westerners, especially Americans--because we threaten to burn qur'ans, etc.) And then we basically asked, "what can we do to make this happen?" and he said "Get me a letter that endorses your NGO and takes responsibility for you from a government official and as soon as I receive that, I will give them to you. I will be here until 5 pm, and if it comes in before then, no problem, I will give them to you."
We made some more phone calls, found out that there had been a stabbing of a political figure who had taken political assylum in London and that things were potentially moving towards a declared 10 days mourning. This also meant that we would be delayed in getting our letter. Our contact in the UK was confident that it was possible though, we knew what we needed and now all we needed was time and we would get our visa.
And me? I was discouraged, tired and wanted to crawl under the lounge in the waiting room and fall into a deep sleep of hybernation. But Emily was right there, speaking truth, telling me that we knew what needed to happen, but we needed time and hey, we get the weekend in Sydney. A little bit earlier she had gone to the store while I had made some phone calls and in that time she had bought some sustenance. That was the best time ever to be surprised with a roll of sushi and a mini fish full of soy sauce. We toasted for what was to come. We remained in the lobby of this large commercial building there for the next couple hours, decompressing, downing hummus and listening to a man snore who was on the couch next to us. At one point the consular general walked past us and with a hint of soft heartedness said "Hey, if your letter comes this weekend, give me a ring." We smiled at each other, hopeful for this kind glimmer, even though we didn't have his number.
So a little more settled, Emily and I started to consider the fact that it was approaching 7pm and we had no place to stay and we were going to be in Sydney until Monday.
Alas, we live in a massive community where everyone seems to know someone, we were connected to some very kind people, now dear friends, that allowed us to stay at their flats, fed us to no end, showed us around and sent us out from Sydney after making us a priority all weekend. We love you Marcia and Jacob! Did you know there is a large Japanese population in Brazil? I never knew...
Onto part four...
this is the story all about how...part two
Wednesday night was spent talking with my family, pr*ying-getting a word to stand on as I was sure that we were heading into a battle, making phone calls and writing emails to specific people to see if they wanted to partner financially. Thursday morning came much quicker than expected.
Thursday I rushed to prepare for family chores and also rearrange my schedule for the day. (Each morning I get to prepare all the cleaning supplies for one area of our base so that we can blitz clean together as a family for about 30 minutes first thing in the morning.) I was supposed to be on chocolate selling, a fundraiser that happens all year, every year, taking turns selling chocolate to businesses to raise funds for our building costs. I ran around looking for a swap and found a gracious beautiful friend who said "yes!".
I was in the clear, the day was Emily and I's to work on visa stuff.
I had no idea what an adventure we were embarking onto.
We spent the morning calling embassies in Australia. And the common consensus after 2 hours of phone calling was "No, we will not give you a visa."
The reasons:
-American and British citizens are not allowed to receive visas in any nations except their own.
-"And no, you cannot get a visa upon arrival."
-All visas take 6 weeks to process.
After hours of trying, we then stopped, took a breather and said to each other "Why did we think this would be easy? Of course the enemy doesn't want us to get in." So, we went into an AWESOME time of open heaven intersesh (my new fav version of "that word"). This was the beginning entering into a battle that has been raging for years in a country that separated itself to be an Islamic nation. Oh man the enemy has been a part of that from the beginning and does not want any land to be claimed back.
Around 1 pm, it seemed as if we received some breakthrough. Phone call after phone call led me to calling consulate after embassy after official person. I ended up on the phone with some man in S. Asia who said "Yes, we will grant you a visa upon arrival." We absolutely ELATED and double checked with our contacts in the UK and S. Asia, and they seemed to think it was a go. So at 7pm, it seemed as if, we were done, we could work on finances, flights and be on our merry way. We walked home 2 feet off the ground. I sighed when I arrived home, so satisfied to have seen G*d answer with his favour after we stormed the heavens, and asked, seeked and knocked.
It must have been 9pm, almost 24 hours after we first found out that we were going to be able to go, that Emily called and said "We can't enter without our visas." I fell to the ground...quite dramatically (and unnecessarily), exhausted, doubtful and afraid. I knew I was meant to go, but not being able to get our visas on arrival meant this battle was not done, it meant going to a consulate in Australia. So after a series of phone calls to the UK and Emily, we confirmed the only options were Canberra and Sydney. I didn't know what to do, with not much money in my bank account and the word of the L*rd to stand on, Emily and I went back to dad and asked him what to do. I took a shower and cried out. My housemates pr*yed for me and listened to me process the options.
And then G*d spoke "Go to the other side". This to me brought me to the story of J*sus and his disciples (Mk 4:35) when they were going across the lake and J*sus said "Let us go to the other side." And then the storm was a-brewin' and the disciples were frightened and woke him and asked him if he even cared about them. He then silenced the storm, as you do, and questioned their faith. The direction he gave to them was to go to the other side, he didn't say it would be without storms, but would not have told them to do something they were incapable of. And so I took this heart. "You orginally said to give myself as an offering, and though it is a battle to do so, I need to keep chugging along." I called Emily and shared this with her and she said "Hey, Sydney is on the other side of Australia!". It was also during this time of waiting on the L*rd that Emily received 1,000 pounds in her account, so we had enough money to buy our tickets to the other side.
The next 6 hours consisted of sending an email to my whole mailing list asking if people wanted to support this trip, {and this email was overwhelmingly responded to. It was each of you that made it possible for the whole trip to happen...okay, I know I am fast forwarding, but...so many times (more than I ever get asked) people wanted to know "WHY? are you here?" and I was able to respond on behalf of so many people from so many nations and say "the nations care for your people and I am here to tell you that."}, contacted individuals on the phone to see if they could give, organized details that you organize in order to travel and didn't pack my bag (because my amazing housemate/friend/fellow midwife Sarah packed it.
Before I knew it, I was riding my bike at 3:00am to pick Emily up from her house and then we were on our way to the base for our dear leader to drive us to the airport.
And it was all so surreal.
Thursday I rushed to prepare for family chores and also rearrange my schedule for the day. (Each morning I get to prepare all the cleaning supplies for one area of our base so that we can blitz clean together as a family for about 30 minutes first thing in the morning.) I was supposed to be on chocolate selling, a fundraiser that happens all year, every year, taking turns selling chocolate to businesses to raise funds for our building costs. I ran around looking for a swap and found a gracious beautiful friend who said "yes!".
I was in the clear, the day was Emily and I's to work on visa stuff.
I had no idea what an adventure we were embarking onto.
We spent the morning calling embassies in Australia. And the common consensus after 2 hours of phone calling was "No, we will not give you a visa."
The reasons:
-American and British citizens are not allowed to receive visas in any nations except their own.
-"And no, you cannot get a visa upon arrival."
-All visas take 6 weeks to process.
After hours of trying, we then stopped, took a breather and said to each other "Why did we think this would be easy? Of course the enemy doesn't want us to get in." So, we went into an AWESOME time of open heaven intersesh (my new fav version of "that word"). This was the beginning entering into a battle that has been raging for years in a country that separated itself to be an Islamic nation. Oh man the enemy has been a part of that from the beginning and does not want any land to be claimed back.
Around 1 pm, it seemed as if we received some breakthrough. Phone call after phone call led me to calling consulate after embassy after official person. I ended up on the phone with some man in S. Asia who said "Yes, we will grant you a visa upon arrival." We absolutely ELATED and double checked with our contacts in the UK and S. Asia, and they seemed to think it was a go. So at 7pm, it seemed as if, we were done, we could work on finances, flights and be on our merry way. We walked home 2 feet off the ground. I sighed when I arrived home, so satisfied to have seen G*d answer with his favour after we stormed the heavens, and asked, seeked and knocked.
It must have been 9pm, almost 24 hours after we first found out that we were going to be able to go, that Emily called and said "We can't enter without our visas." I fell to the ground...quite dramatically (and unnecessarily), exhausted, doubtful and afraid. I knew I was meant to go, but not being able to get our visas on arrival meant this battle was not done, it meant going to a consulate in Australia. So after a series of phone calls to the UK and Emily, we confirmed the only options were Canberra and Sydney. I didn't know what to do, with not much money in my bank account and the word of the L*rd to stand on, Emily and I went back to dad and asked him what to do. I took a shower and cried out. My housemates pr*yed for me and listened to me process the options.
And then G*d spoke "Go to the other side". This to me brought me to the story of J*sus and his disciples (Mk 4:35) when they were going across the lake and J*sus said "Let us go to the other side." And then the storm was a-brewin' and the disciples were frightened and woke him and asked him if he even cared about them. He then silenced the storm, as you do, and questioned their faith. The direction he gave to them was to go to the other side, he didn't say it would be without storms, but would not have told them to do something they were incapable of. And so I took this heart. "You orginally said to give myself as an offering, and though it is a battle to do so, I need to keep chugging along." I called Emily and shared this with her and she said "Hey, Sydney is on the other side of Australia!". It was also during this time of waiting on the L*rd that Emily received 1,000 pounds in her account, so we had enough money to buy our tickets to the other side.
The next 6 hours consisted of sending an email to my whole mailing list asking if people wanted to support this trip, {and this email was overwhelmingly responded to. It was each of you that made it possible for the whole trip to happen...okay, I know I am fast forwarding, but...so many times (more than I ever get asked) people wanted to know "WHY? are you here?" and I was able to respond on behalf of so many people from so many nations and say "the nations care for your people and I am here to tell you that."}, contacted individuals on the phone to see if they could give, organized details that you organize in order to travel and didn't pack my bag (because my amazing housemate/friend/fellow midwife Sarah packed it.
Before I knew it, I was riding my bike at 3:00am to pick Emily up from her house and then we were on our way to the base for our dear leader to drive us to the airport.
And it was all so surreal.
this is a story all about how...part one
Every Friday night, together as a community, we come together and hear a challenging message, apply it and then grow corporately. this is the idea at least. about a month ago, the challenge came before the message. one of our base leaders led us into a pr*yer time for flood relief victims right at the beginning of the meeting. My heart was broken for the devastation, the women and children in need and the lack of response to the collapsing nation. In conclusion of the time we went into a time of giving, where we ask G*d what we could give financially. I felt like I could give myself as an offering. Sitting through the meeting was tough that night as my mind stayed in South Asia the whole evening.
After the meeting I found myself in my seat as the rest of the community stacked chairs up around me. Soon there were only a few people left and random people chatting around me. I waited for the base leader and found myself in the company of Emily, a British friend who just completed the birth attendant school, who too felt like she was supposed to go to Pakistan. It was late by the time we were able to speak to him, and once we had his attention, it was like "How do I put this...We want to go." He caught the curve ball and said he would get onto it, he had some connections and would see what he could do. Emily and I went to our leader after that, conveniently the same one, as we both work in health care. She said that would pray about it with our base leader and this other leader as well, for the weekend, we just needed to sit on it. As eager as I felt, I was grateful for her sound mind in it all. One of my house mates suggested that I paint "P stan" on the bum of my pants to show her I was taking that to heart.
Not much was mentioned on Monday and Tuesday I organized to speak with my leader and let her know what G*d had been saying over the weekend. She said she hadn't been able to pr*y but that she really wanted to see something happen and I felt like she was really going to all she could to make this happen. That day as well, the other base leader said he had gotten a response from inside the UK who is organizing the work in the country and that they would be happy to have two health care workers come...the door was opening.
I was so impressed with the support that we had. Wednesday afternoon Emily said that our leader was pr*ying...that didn't end up happening...she is busy. Really busy. Wendesday evening at about 10:00 pm, I was writing thank you cards for my BAS outreach finances...and Emily called and said "It's a go. We are going." And just like that, they had prayed and the base leadership was backing us to go into South Asia.
onto Part #2...
After the meeting I found myself in my seat as the rest of the community stacked chairs up around me. Soon there were only a few people left and random people chatting around me. I waited for the base leader and found myself in the company of Emily, a British friend who just completed the birth attendant school, who too felt like she was supposed to go to Pakistan. It was late by the time we were able to speak to him, and once we had his attention, it was like "How do I put this...We want to go." He caught the curve ball and said he would get onto it, he had some connections and would see what he could do. Emily and I went to our leader after that, conveniently the same one, as we both work in health care. She said that would pray about it with our base leader and this other leader as well, for the weekend, we just needed to sit on it. As eager as I felt, I was grateful for her sound mind in it all. One of my house mates suggested that I paint "P stan" on the bum of my pants to show her I was taking that to heart.
Not much was mentioned on Monday and Tuesday I organized to speak with my leader and let her know what G*d had been saying over the weekend. She said she hadn't been able to pr*y but that she really wanted to see something happen and I felt like she was really going to all she could to make this happen. That day as well, the other base leader said he had gotten a response from inside the UK who is organizing the work in the country and that they would be happy to have two health care workers come...the door was opening.
I was so impressed with the support that we had. Wednesday afternoon Emily said that our leader was pr*ying...that didn't end up happening...she is busy. Really busy. Wendesday evening at about 10:00 pm, I was writing thank you cards for my BAS outreach finances...and Emily called and said "It's a go. We are going." And just like that, they had prayed and the base leadership was backing us to go into South Asia.
onto Part #2...
Saturday, October 09, 2010
hi there.
hi friends. i just wanted to let you know that I am alive, doing well and have not had any time to procure blog posts about adventures to south asia yet.
this weekend i am babysitting two sweet children with a lovely friend called Sarah.
i will need to be posting soon.
see you all.
i think you are wonderful.
this weekend i am babysitting two sweet children with a lovely friend called Sarah.
i will need to be posting soon.
see you all.
i think you are wonderful.
Monday, September 20, 2010
ready for take off.
visas-check!
amazing. miracle. should have been impossible, but here we are, waiting for our flight.
an opportunity has presented itself for those who would like to give towards med supplies in the stan. there is a great need, meds are available, just not for those who most need it.
you can send me an email if you are interested and i can write you!
thanks for all the asking. we are off.
amazing. miracle. should have been impossible, but here we are, waiting for our flight.
an opportunity has presented itself for those who would like to give towards med supplies in the stan. there is a great need, meds are available, just not for those who most need it.
you can send me an email if you are interested and i can write you!
thanks for all the asking. we are off.
Friday, September 17, 2010
sleepless in sydney
hey guys. we are running into barriers here in sydney as far as visas go. if you think of it, take this one to dad. to him be all the glory!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
pakistan. yes, i have responsibility.
i have read a very unsettling article. all i can ask is "where are those who fear the L*rd?" and then I realize, that I am here, in Australia, numb and separate from a disaster that the body of C*rist should be at the forefront at.
thank you bbc.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/8965711.stm
When covering disasters, reporters can face the ethical question of whether they should help, or remain detached. When is it right for a journalist to help a weak and possibly dying baby?
Sometimes the scale of a tragedy is so vast, it is hard to comprehend.
It was a difficult birth, by the roadside, with no-one to help
Eight million people in Pakistan are homeless and hungry. Sometimes it takes just one to make it all seem real.
That is how I felt in Sukkur 10 days ago. Overwhelmed.
People were flowing into the city at a ferocious pace, a ragged river of humanity, with shocked faces and frightened eyes.
They were fleeing on trucks, donkey carts, bicycles and on foot, clutching whatever was precious - electric fans, bedding, pots and pans, chickens and goats. Behind them, a great sinister mass of floodwater was pouring in.
Tiny scrap
Sukkur itself was overflowing with families, along the roadside, on river banks, on every patch of open ground.
The heat was unbearable but they had no shelter.
When our car pulled up, they ran to it, flattened their faces against the windows, begged for food, for water, for help.
When I got out and started to record interviews, people pressed round.
Then, in all the noise and heat and smell, someone told me about a baby, born by the roadside, and led me off to see.
She was a tiny scrap, silent and still amid the clamour.
She was lying motionless on her back, on a small mat under a tree. Flies were thick round her face. The passing traffic was just feet away.
I see my job as to bear witness in a tragedy and to report - but not to interfere
Her skin was almost translucent, her head smaller than my palm, balanced in a faded china saucer, propped up against a stone. Her eyes were closed and lifeless.
I thought at first that she was dead. Her young mother seemed vacant with shock. She had had a difficult birth, there on the road, with no-one to help.
Now she sat beside her baby, looking dazed. The baby was not feeding, she said. She had not seen a doctor. She did not know where to find one.
I went down the road to a chaotic emergency clinic and interviewed a doctor there who promised to go and help. Then I went back to the hotel to work on a different report.
Metaphor for suffering
The following day, I was busy chasing more stories, but on the way back to the hotel in the early evening, I stopped off at the roadside, with some trepidation.
It seemed very likely that the baby would not have survived. But she had.
She was weak, but whimpering now and trying to move.
As the flood crisis continues, millions face an uncertain future
The doctor had visited and whatever he had done seemed to have made all the difference. Her mother had just named her Samina. Suddenly she had a name and a hold on life.
That evening I was elated. In all that misery and heat and exhaustion, I felt boosted by the thought I had helped someone, perhaps even played a part in saving a life. It eased my sense of guilt and helplessness.
The report I filed on baby Samina met with a tremendous response. Suddenly she seemed to be a metaphor for the general suffering.
I was contacted by friends and colleagues and complete strangers.
An international agency got in touch, offering to help the family. Baby Samina was becoming, unwittingly, a poster girl for the floods.
In some ways, that is wonderful. But it also made me feel very uncomfortable.
I see my job as to bear witness in a tragedy and to report - but not to interfere. I had urged that doctor to treat baby Samina.
He may have saved her, but was it at the expense of another patient? Is it unethical to attract resources to one family, when millions of others may be equally deserving?
Hope and disappointment
This week I went back to Sukkur to do a second report on Samina.
Her family has a tent inside a camp now - tent number 59 - with a supply of food and clean water.
Samina seems stronger. She is lying on a pile of embroidered cushions, instead of the ground, wriggling and yawning.
Her mother's health, too, seems much better. The family's future is still uncertain, but the immediate crisis is past.
Maybe I should stop there, with a happy ending that makes us all feel hopeful, but as I walked away from Samina's family, someone tugged at my sleeve.
She led me to a tent nearby where another young woman had just given birth, a day or two earlier.
Her relatives lifted a cover to show a tiny, wrinkled newborn.
The women turned to me, eager and expectant, as if they were thinking now this foreigner will help our child too.
They looked disappointed when all I could do was to say thank you, congratulate them and then turn to leave.
so guys, now what? CBC world news predicts that 500,000 women are pregnant and in need of medical help.
thank you bbc.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/from_our_own_correspondent/8965711.stm
When covering disasters, reporters can face the ethical question of whether they should help, or remain detached. When is it right for a journalist to help a weak and possibly dying baby?
Sometimes the scale of a tragedy is so vast, it is hard to comprehend.
It was a difficult birth, by the roadside, with no-one to help
Eight million people in Pakistan are homeless and hungry. Sometimes it takes just one to make it all seem real.
That is how I felt in Sukkur 10 days ago. Overwhelmed.
People were flowing into the city at a ferocious pace, a ragged river of humanity, with shocked faces and frightened eyes.
They were fleeing on trucks, donkey carts, bicycles and on foot, clutching whatever was precious - electric fans, bedding, pots and pans, chickens and goats. Behind them, a great sinister mass of floodwater was pouring in.
Tiny scrap
Sukkur itself was overflowing with families, along the roadside, on river banks, on every patch of open ground.
The heat was unbearable but they had no shelter.
When our car pulled up, they ran to it, flattened their faces against the windows, begged for food, for water, for help.
When I got out and started to record interviews, people pressed round.
Then, in all the noise and heat and smell, someone told me about a baby, born by the roadside, and led me off to see.
She was a tiny scrap, silent and still amid the clamour.
She was lying motionless on her back, on a small mat under a tree. Flies were thick round her face. The passing traffic was just feet away.
I see my job as to bear witness in a tragedy and to report - but not to interfere
Her skin was almost translucent, her head smaller than my palm, balanced in a faded china saucer, propped up against a stone. Her eyes were closed and lifeless.
I thought at first that she was dead. Her young mother seemed vacant with shock. She had had a difficult birth, there on the road, with no-one to help.
Now she sat beside her baby, looking dazed. The baby was not feeding, she said. She had not seen a doctor. She did not know where to find one.
I went down the road to a chaotic emergency clinic and interviewed a doctor there who promised to go and help. Then I went back to the hotel to work on a different report.
Metaphor for suffering
The following day, I was busy chasing more stories, but on the way back to the hotel in the early evening, I stopped off at the roadside, with some trepidation.
It seemed very likely that the baby would not have survived. But she had.
She was weak, but whimpering now and trying to move.
As the flood crisis continues, millions face an uncertain future
The doctor had visited and whatever he had done seemed to have made all the difference. Her mother had just named her Samina. Suddenly she had a name and a hold on life.
That evening I was elated. In all that misery and heat and exhaustion, I felt boosted by the thought I had helped someone, perhaps even played a part in saving a life. It eased my sense of guilt and helplessness.
The report I filed on baby Samina met with a tremendous response. Suddenly she seemed to be a metaphor for the general suffering.
I was contacted by friends and colleagues and complete strangers.
An international agency got in touch, offering to help the family. Baby Samina was becoming, unwittingly, a poster girl for the floods.
In some ways, that is wonderful. But it also made me feel very uncomfortable.
I see my job as to bear witness in a tragedy and to report - but not to interfere. I had urged that doctor to treat baby Samina.
He may have saved her, but was it at the expense of another patient? Is it unethical to attract resources to one family, when millions of others may be equally deserving?
Hope and disappointment
This week I went back to Sukkur to do a second report on Samina.
Her family has a tent inside a camp now - tent number 59 - with a supply of food and clean water.
Samina seems stronger. She is lying on a pile of embroidered cushions, instead of the ground, wriggling and yawning.
Her mother's health, too, seems much better. The family's future is still uncertain, but the immediate crisis is past.
Maybe I should stop there, with a happy ending that makes us all feel hopeful, but as I walked away from Samina's family, someone tugged at my sleeve.
She led me to a tent nearby where another young woman had just given birth, a day or two earlier.
Her relatives lifted a cover to show a tiny, wrinkled newborn.
The women turned to me, eager and expectant, as if they were thinking now this foreigner will help our child too.
They looked disappointed when all I could do was to say thank you, congratulate them and then turn to leave.
so guys, now what? CBC world news predicts that 500,000 women are pregnant and in need of medical help.
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