Going to pray, ending up in Malawi - Part 1

My Monday morning began with the plan of biking to do village assessments and visit chiefs near to where we had previously visited the village with the composting toilet. That plan soon changed.

The team members who live in Kwilasia village had a death in the village the previous night. It is very important to attend funerals to show respect to the family and village. There was miscommunication and we did not make it to funeral since it took place earlier in the morning. Dierdre, who lives in Kwilasia, invited me to go with her later in the day to see the family and pray with them.

Off I go to Kwilasia on my bike to pray with Dierdre for this grieving family. Upon my arrival I learn that that baby who died the night before was a twin and that one baby is still living. Deirdre and I depart down the path [litala] stopping to visit several people on the way including praying for one lady who is probably having kidney failure. One woman with a small baby on her back volunteers to escort us to our destination.

We finally reach the home of the mourning family and sit down on the mat [wugono] on the ground outside to visit with four ladies. I can’t do much visiting myself besides hellos but listen to the conversation; based on the portion that I understood it included asking if I am Deirdre’s sister and discussing Janet’s (current home I am staying at) running. The conversation lasts about a half hour and appears to be lighthearted where laughter and smiles are present.

Deirdre and I finally go into the hut and sit on the floor with three other ladies including the grandmother [Anganga] and Mama. Behind mama on a cot like bed is the living baby bundled in numerous cloths [chitenje] which make him almost invisible. Greetings and sorry [pepani] is said as we shake everyone’s hand but mama’s. Inquires are made about the babies and mama.

The tiny remaining twin is taken off the bed and it is soon learned that the premature baby has not eaten anything for the 24 hours since he was born as mama’s milk has yet to come in. Everyone has basically been sitting in this home waiting for this next child to die. Deirdre asks, uncertain if she is breaking any major cultural taboos, if any other mamas had tried feeding him. They said no other mamas were around. Of course almost every woman in Kwilasia is nursing a child. So the mama who escorted us to the home is brought inside and attempts to nurse the extremely lethargic premature baby. The attempt was unsuccessful.

Dierdre asks if we can take them to a clinic in the nearby town of Mandimba. They agree and begin to collect the firewood [sasu], maize flour [wutandi], pots, bucket, and extra cloths [chitenje] that are needed in case they have to spend the night at a clinic or hospital. Deirdre and I head back to her house to get her truck.

We meet Mama, Anganga and baby by the main road and load their supplies into the truck. Off to Mandimba we go.

We go into the clinic past the lines of waiting patients. Once inside we track down Francesca an Irish consulting nurse that works with a NGO that works with the Mandimba hospital . We find her in a nearby building cleaning. She tells us not to say in Mandimba but that we need to go across the border to Malawi to a private hospital called Milibwanji where they have an incubator as they don’t even have a suction bulb in Mandimba.

She grabs some glucose and gets in the truck with us. Off to Malawi we go. We stop by her house quickly on the way out of town to grab an infant resuscitator and coke and cookies for Mama.

The border crossing goes fairly smoothly and we are issued 24 hour passes to travel within 7 km of border crossing without needing our passports. We pray that we don’t have any troubles as we begin to realize that we only have Mozambique currency and not any Kwacha (currency in Malawi), nobody has a drivers license with them and nobody has their passport.

Next event, we hit a sheep. Sheep seems to get up and stumble off road even though it was a fairly loud thud. No time to stop to find owner and say sorry [pepani].

We arrive at Milibwanji hospital where we again walk past a long line of waiting patients (we can have a serious cultural ethics discussion later about this). The nurses don’t seem to be very competent and randomly press buttons on the incubator. A Malawian man shows up in sandals, capris, and tee-shirt with sleeves torn off. He too randomly starts to press buttons on the incubator. Yes, he is the on-call doctor. The nurse does help find some formula and a bottle as the hospital provides a maximum of 12 hours of formula for infants.

Meanwhile, Dierdre tracks down the primary doctors in their homes and they come check out baby and mama. It is confirmed that the incubator does not work. He is able to give baby some oxygen and get an IV in.

It was claimed that baby’s temperature dropped every time kangaroo care was attempted. There is no hot water at the hospital so we take Anagana back to the caretaker area for here to use her firewood to boil some.

Kitchen and sleeping area for family members

Another Anganga with the things needed to care for her family member.

We finally get the hot water but they don’t have a single hot water bottle so we fill my nalgene bottle and wrap it in the chitenje I was wearing. Deirdre remembers that she has a space blanket in an emergency kit in her car. Baby and the water bottle are then wrapped in a space blanket to keep heat in.

We are just imagining what is going through the heads of mama and the hospital staff. I know the hospital staff thought it was a comedy show. I think mama was in complete shock having lost one baby 24 hours ago and was now was the furthest away from home she had ever been.

Baby finally begins sucking on a bottle. He was eventually weighed and is 2.8 pounds.

Francesca volunteers to spend the night at the hospital with mama, baby and Anganga.

By now the border is closed since it is well after 6pm so there is no going back to Mozambique tonight. We need to find some food and a place for Dierdre and I to sleep. Remember that we have no local currency. So we set off toward the border town to try and collect some supplies and maybe get some money exchanged. We are unsuccessful at exchanging money with the money exchangers but we run into a Malawian friend of Deirdre’s husband who gives us a loan. We get some water, bread and peanut butter for ourselves and some bread, juice, milk, water, eggs, tea and soap for Mama, Anganga and Francesca.

We send their supplies back to the hospital with a Malawian friend of Francesca. Dierdre and I depart for a nearby orphanage that has agreed to house us for the night. We need to get there quickly before the guard dogs are released onto the grounds for the night. We were not mauled even though we were over 20 minutes late—fortunately they had been kindly waiting to let the guard dogs out.

If you are still reading this book, I think I need to go to bed tonight before I write part 2 of this blog about the following day's events. It is exhausting me just trying to recollect this escapade.

To be continued….