Good Samaritan

While I've been busy running around, shopping, packing etc. etc. etc. my dear, sweet husband has been holding down the fort in Zambia. He's taken in three new babies (sadly, two passed on), taught his regular classes, handled payroll and other staff issues, shopped for groceries, taken care of construction projects, and dealt with even more cultural things.

Below is his account of events that took place yesterday:

parents--please read first before allowing children to read.

So, my day started in the morning by going to Mofwe Lagoon to continue workiing on the boat program. I hired about 20 people from the village to work half the day--paying them the usual $1 wage. They were happy to get it and did an ok job for it. Of course it needed complete oversight. We did most of the work of putting up a bamboo wall and gate around the Marina. I put the final touch on the entrance way by making a double arch that will eventually say The Morrow Marina.

Then I had to get back home to start on making dinner for the kids. So I left about 4 PM with plenty of time to get home. 

Well, this being a holiday (Africa Freedom Day) most things were closed and the the boma was bustling with people. As I passed the village clinic, there was a crowd of 50 people gathered around outside. I thought that was strange. Then a woman ran out to the car and said to my worker in Bemba, "Tell the white man to come and see what has happened." I pulled in to the clinic and made my way through the crowd. I could hear a terrible shrill of a woman. A sound that was a combination of a ululating and a crow. 

At this point I was thinking it was something to do with Ju Ju (voodoo) as I  had witnessed a ritual just last week, but when I got there, I saw an old woman on the ground with a splint of some kind on her leg, blood and fluid was everywhere. She was screaming and pouring water on her head and drinking at the same time, She was saying in Bemba, "I am going to die".over and over. I saw a nurse who was taken from her house to attend to this victim, and she asked if I could take this woman to the main hospital in Mbereshi twenty minutes away. 

 weird green paint added here to cover yuck

At this point a hundred things flash through your head, sometimes not intentionally, but worth noting. I remembered last time the same nurse asked me to take a dead body wrapped in a sheet to its house which I did, but never got any thanks or apreaciation for. Was this the same case with this woman? Even last week on the road a young woman flagged me down in the most remote of places, and asked for a lift to the hospital as her husband had beaten her, this was translated of course, and by her facial expression I could tell she was telling the truth. So I obliged her. Got her there and off she went. 

 It seems that I have become a free taxi to the community when help is needed. The question is, should I continue helping these poor innocent people and fuel the notion that I am the white man who helps and can be taken advantage of? The fuel and risk of carrying these people are not really what we got this vehicle for. Or should I just trust the Lord that He is in control and I should be the good Samaritan and not turn these people away that the Lord puts in my path. 

But like I said, in a third world country, where the need is always there, you cannot keep giving and giving or else you will find yourself in the same situation as they are. There must be a line somewhere. This is where the Holy Spirit comes in, to give you wisdom in each and every situation. 

Back to the story: I found out that she had fallen off her bike riding down a hill. So I agreed to transport her. The compassion overwhelmed me. I felt Jesus being with me and that I should be more like Him. Being concerned about the fluids, esp the blood, I made sure that the blood was washed away before transporting her. On the trip there, the woman was screaming, in pain especially at every pot hole. I got there and wheeled her to an examination room. 

 Of course there were no thank you's or feelings of appreciation. I expected this, but even  after being in Zambia for over 8 years now, I still cannot get used to being used. I made it home, and had dinner ready by 6pm. Another long day in Zambia.        

Please continue to pray for Tom and the kids as they look after all the many details and adventures. 

Another thing to pray for: my flight to London has been canceled due to cabin crew strikes at British Airways. I'm waiting for my travel agent to get back to me. The hope is that I can still fly out the same day. Tom needs me!! and I need him more!