Here’s a slideshow of the children at Hope Village and the volunteers who traveled from the USA this summer to work with WVI’s orphan care program. You’ll see photos of the summer events - literacy and tutoring classes, music rehearsals, the photography project, feeding, making nutritious, homemade peanut butter, game days, outings & the purchase of tons of maize for the months ahead.

The  music track is a worship song entitled “Child of God” by Kathryn Scott - from the CD “Hungry”. When I wrote asking her permission to use it, she responded immediately - and generously. ( Thank you,  Kathryn.)

Enjoy the beautiful faces of the children of Malawi. ( or for better quality, view it directly on youtube.)

On a good day it takes 6 hours to drive the road to the village of Anjabetrongo from the nearest city, Toliare. On a bad day, it takes 10 1/2 hours for the 62 km trek. That’s 10 1/2 hours to travel 38 miles - definitely a day to remember.

First, there’s the rental car. No one who owns a decent car wants to risk sending it into this deep, thorny forest. So we’re grateful to find any car, let alone a decent one. As usual, a polite driver comes with the vehicle - in case it breaks down.

Secondly, we pack it up and weigh it down.
On top of the vehicle we have metal roofing sheets, table and chairs for the new clinic, bed frames, large containers of gasoline, spare tires, and one lonely duffle bag - mine. Into the worn interior we cram water, food, backpacks and sacks, pots and pans, and other miscellaneous supplies - including 50 blankets in plastic wrappers. Add 7 adults, 3 children and one guitar in a car that seats 5 and you have the makings of an interesting journey.

Did I mention that the driver chain smokes?

And then there are the roadside security checkpoints. This is where a rifle-toting man waves down your vehicle for no apparent reason. At one stop a policeman pokes his head through the back window, notes that we are badly overcrowded, and informs us that his friend needs a ride to the next town. There is no room but, if we want to keep moving, we have no choice. So we jam another body into the back and we’re on our way.

At the next checkpoint, the price of forward movement is a Bible for the security guard - a bribe we don’t mind paying. But as long as the vasaha ( that’s me - the lily white foreigner who turns pink in the sun) has a valid passport and the front-seat passengers (that’s not me) are wearing seat belts, we can usually proceed.

Well, we could proceed if our tire wasn’t flat.
But it is, so we pull to the side of the road.

It’s not easy to change a flat tire when the car is so loaded down.
Nor is it easy when we get stuck on a log in the middle of the bush in pitch darkness.
But shortly after, villagers wrapped in colorful blankets appear out of nowhere to help us get unstuck.

I am freezing cold (yes, winter nights are cold in Madagascar) - but my duffel bag is strapped next to the gasoline jug on top and there is no way to get it down. Yes, we do have 50 blankets, but they are gifts for our friends in the Mikea Forest. So I shiver, and I shake, and I listen to the men argue about the right way to get unstuck.

The children are amazing - they either sleep or sing - but they never fuss. My Malagasy partners, Jonoro and Hanitra, and the young men traveling with us just keep smiling and singing.

I love my friends.
And I love these people who are so willing to help stranded travelers late at night.

But I hate this car.

An hour later we’re on our way - heading yet deeper into the bush and deeper into the night. I’m still shivering, but the sleeping child on my lap provides some warmth. I’m lost in the beauty of a star-filled sky when suddenly, I’m shaken out of my reverie by a thunk, a clunk and a sharp swerve to a complete stop.

Outside my window sits a wheel.
And not just any wheel.
No, it’s the wheel that has just fallen off the broken axle of the car that I hate.
“Tsmisy ulanana,” the driver says - “no problem, we have a spare axle.”
And with the patience of a saint, he once again slides under the car.
Note to self: never rent a car that needs to carry a spare axle.

When we finally pull into the village of Anjabetrongo long after midnight, I’m still smiling but I’m chilled to the bone. Pulling on every piece of clothing I have with me, I climb inside a sleeping bag, and shiver myself into a fitful sleep. I’m no warmer when I wake at dawn, so I head outside to stand by the fire - still layered in clothes and wrapped in a blanket.

This is when reality hits me and my perspective shifts.
Standing by the fire is a group of children - several of them are nearly naked. They are not immune to the cold - just the opposite. One little boy shakes as if he’s having convulsions. All of their noses are running, their eyes are infected, their lungs are infected. They have no duffle bag filled with warm clothes. They have no sleeping bag, no blanket. I try to imagine how they sleep through the night shivering naked on the cold ground. I want to give away my blanket, but there are too many children. (I nearly caused a riot in this village once with a few inflatable beach balls!) But we have to find a way to help the vulnerable children.

One of the Malagasy pastors strums the guitar that took up so much room in the crowded car. He begins to sing a praise song and heaven touches earth in this desolate, desperate place. The children smile at me and suddenly I’m not cold anymore.

Getting here is never easy - but it’s worth it.

At this moment, there is no place I would rather be.

Someone asked me this question on my first trip to Malawi ,Africa in 1998.
Actually the question was,
“Does anyone in your country really see me?”
My answer now is the same as then - no, we don’t.
Not really…

We may give a little, or we may give alot.
We may think of you when a sad commercial interrupts our favorite show
or we may pray for you all the time.
But truly see you?

See you the way God sees you?

We don’t.
But some of us want to.

God open our eyes to see the world’s orphans, the way you see them.

…..and break our hearts.

www.worldviewinternational.org

A friend thoughtfully and prayerfuly created this video using a track from one of our Ancient Path CDs and beautiful photos from Malawi and Madagascar.

Thank you, friend….

httpv://youtube.com/watch?v=HiG6l3t9bQk

Today is World Water Day  . 

Embarassing as it is, I can’t pretend I knew this; a savvy friend told me. So I decided to impress and embarass another equally savvy friend - I’d surely have one up on her. Apparently, I’m the only person who doesn’t know that this has been going on since 1992. 

Every year there are  poetry contests,film events, races, celebrations and awareness gathering all across the nation. There’s even a Second Life World Water Day Music Festival on the Water Partners Village stage. Something for everyone

2007’s theme was “Coping with Water Scarcity”. The United Nations has declared 2008 The Year of Sanitation  in order to draw attention to the fact that 40% of the world’s population doesn’t have a toilet.  If you live in NYC, you can stand up for those who can’t sit down  by standing in a long line in Central Park. But if you’re not luck enough to live in New York, you can visit their website and check out the photo galleries, articles, stats. Or you can take a quick test to find out what kind of a water consumer you are and how to reduce your  water footprint.

But I want to tell you about people I know - people who know nothing about yearly themes for World Water Day, but know alot about scarcity.

For many of our friends in Malawi and Madagascar, lack of clean water and sanitation is a serious, life-threatening issue.  For some of our friends, lack of water, period, is a serious issue.

It was an exciting day at Hope Village Malawi when running water finally came out of a  tap. Now the children fill buckets to wash their hands before eating. They fill buckets again to wash dishes & on laundry day,  2 huge tubs are used for scrubbing and rinsing. The younger children are bathed in an even larger tub -the water is cold, but noone really minds. Every drop is precious, every drop a gift.

At Hope Village Anjabetrongo the villagers are not yet so fortunate. This remote village, located in the thorny desert forest of southern Madagascar, has no water. The nearest well is 10 km away in another village. Oxcart owners transport water to Anjabetrongo in dirty barrels and  sell it for high prices.  Most  days the villagers must choose between eating and drinking.  Of course, the children suffer the most.

We tested this water one day. The volunteer expert looked in disbelief at the results on his PH card - squinting his eyes to  make sure he was actually seeing it right in the blinding sun. Poisonous he said. This water is almost poisonous. 

But it gets worse. 

During the rains, a low place in the village fills with water. It looks picturesque,           like a small pond. People come to drink, to water their animals, to haul water for cooking. They sit in it to bathe, as do their valuable cows. It’s highly contaminated, but you can’t tell the villagers that. They don’t understand - and what are their choices?

One day our blended team of US/Malagasy volunteers got permission to dig the first latrine in the village.
This in itself was  a miracle; you usually can’t dig in the ground without making sacrifices to the ancestors.
The chief came to help, to show the villagers that we had his permission. When completed, it was well built, clean, and properly ventilated, but the villagers wanted nothing to do with it. Finally a local was brave enough to tell us why.
” We think it’s disgusting to do our business all in one place”, he said. “Animals do that. We are human.  We are free to go wherever we want.” 

It will take time to change this way of thinking, even in the Year of Sanitation. .

But it gets even worse than this - just 2 km away, deeper into the thorny forest. 

Here the Mikea tribe live with no water at all. They dig roots out of the ground, called babo, for their moisture. 
They cannot bathe.  The scant clothes they do have, rot off their bodies in time. 
They suffer myriad diseases due to the lack of this basic life necessity. Their children are covered in sores.
I really don’t know how they survive.  
When I travel there, the heat and limited water makes every day physically difficult to get through. 
And the suffering I see around me makes every day emotionally hard to get through.
Others who have traveled there share that experience and perspective.

But for the Mikea and the Anjabetrongo villagers, this is their daily life.

WVI has been digging a well in the village of Anjabetrongo for some time now. 
We are on our second well company, second project, second location.
We are down 60 feet now at solid rock, but the project has been suspended because of the rains.
They will begin digging again, by hand, when the land drys up. 
Where there are baobab trees,  water is hard to find, but we are trying. 
A well will not only change the lives of the villagers but of the Mikea tribe in the region who will have free access to it.

So when you turn on the faucet today, count your blessings.
Happy Water Day.

www.worldviewinternational.org