Tag: Life in Tanzania Page 13 of 26

The Dark Cloud

On November 24, 2011

On Tuesday afternoon I got a call from a HOPAC teacher who was beside herself with worry.

She told me about another teacher, Victor, whose four-month-old baby was rapidly declining in health. Victor and his wife are from Zimbabwe, and he is an excellent (and quite popular) teacher at HOPAC. This is their first child, and baby Christian has been in poor health since birth. Due to the absolutely infuriating lack of response from their hospital (which is supposed to be a good one), the baby’s kidneys were shutting down and the situation was become more and more urgent by the minute.

When the HOPAC administration realized how serious the situation had become, they asked a HOPAC parent, who is a British doctor, to intervene. He had the baby transferred to a better hospital, but the baby was so weak by this point that that hospital couldn’t even perform the tests to find out what was wrong.

The teacher that called me asked me to pray; asked me to spread the word; asked me to push for action.

The kids and I were at a Children’s Club, and I was reeling from this news. Just a half hour later, more text messages started pouring in. This time, two teachers who are here with YoungLife were in a serious accident. Mary and Ali had been traveling to a Bible study in a “bajaj” which is a three-wheeled taxi that is one step above a motorcycle. Somehow (no one really knows what happened), the bajaj was hit and they ended up in a ditch, probably having rolled. Both were very beat up. Mary had a serious head injury.

Over the last 24 hours, my phone hasn’t stopped ringing or dinging with text messages. What can we do? How can we pray? Updates coming in from all sides.

Mary was medically evacuated to South Africa in the middle of the night on Tuesday. Baby Christian’s progress went up and down on Wednesday like a roller coaster. Last night (Wednesday), his kidneys completed stopped working. Dar es Salaam has no dialysis machine for infants. It was decided to medically evacuate him to Nairobi. His life is now hanging by a thread.

In the 9 years I’ve lived here, I’ve only known of one person to be evacuated. Now, HOPAC has had two in one week.

We praise God that Mary’s tests came out completely clear. The doctors were really worried about a fracture behind her eye, and yet she is totally fine. No surgery, no stitches….and yet, she could have lost her life.

Christian’s outcome is yet to be known.

And to top it off, over a dozen people on campus (including poor Josiah) were stung by angry bees yesterday after their nest was destroyed.

Tension is thick throughout the HOPAC campus. My dear Student Council leaders have Spirit Week planned for this week, and they are doing a great job, but these emergencies take a bit of the joy out of smashing eggs on top of each other’s heads. The entire school has stopped for group prayer meetings yesterday and today.

Sometimes, we really feel the weight of living in Africa. Just last week, another of our families experienced an invasion robbery in the middle of the night. This morning I told our school counselor (who is a very good friend) that she could practically have a support group for the children who have experienced these type of robberies, since I can think of at least 10 families.

I know that people get robbed in the States. I know that babies die, and people get in car accidents. But it’s rare that someone in a suburban neighborhood gets invaded by a gang wielding machetes. In the States, you can get emergency medical care within 15 minutes. Here, it took Mary 24 hours before she was seen by the specialist in South Africa.

And in America, doctors don’t let tiny babies with kidney failure lay in a bed for four days and do absolutely nothing.

Yeah, I’m a little bit bitter today. And sad. And wishing life just wasn’t so hard for some people.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

It’s Not Easy Being Green

By Amy Medina

On July 26, 2011

In Other

Let me introduce you to my new little friends.

Last week I learned more about amps and volts and watts and how to power a house than I ever cared to know. If you live in a place where you flip the switch and the lights always come on, be thankful.

So now we have this little system, called an “Inverter System” wired to our fuse box. Think giant recharageable batteries. ‘Cause that’s what they are. Power is on; they get recharged. Power goes off; batteries come on. They only work for lights and fans, but we’re thankful for that because now we don’t have to choose between darkness or running our $2-an-hour generator. Of course, we still use the generator for things like the washing machine or TV or cooling the fridge for a couple hours, but still a lot less than before.

We can add solar panels to the system later on if we want to cough up more money. And I am seriously considering purchasing a deep freezer that can run on compressed gas (like my stove).

For now we are in very good shape. Which is more than I can say for a lot of people. But of course, it’s always been that way.

To whom much is given, much will be required.

Good Thing I Know the Light of the World

By Amy Medina

On July 19, 2011

In Other

I am scared for my country.

The electricity situation is grave indeed. During November-April, we just kept thinking, “It will be better in the rainy season, it will be better in the rainy season.” And it was, for the month of May.

Then June hit and again we took a nose dive. Very, very bad. The rainy season is when the hydroelectric dams are supposed to fill up for the year. Apparently they did not. So if we are just on the other end of the rainy season, and are having 60-hour-per-week power cuts, that is very, very bad news.

Yesterday we read a news article which states that it’s possible that in the next two months, the dams will dry up and the the entire country will go to blackout. No power. At all. Rain is supposed to come again in August and September. But unless it is miraculous, El Nino-type rain (which is not expected), we will plunge once again into the hottest time of the year with little or no electricity.

The implications? Well, for the vast majority of Tanzanians, who are subsistence farmers and never have electricity, it won’t affect them at all. But in the cities, where industry is growing the economy and the standards of living of millions of people, everything will grind to a halt. Every small business that depends on electricity: carpenters, welders, bakeries, internet cafes, salons, restaurants will be economically devastated. How will factory food be processed and distributed? What about the huge cell phone industry? What will happen to food prices when the grocery stores have to run generators all day? What will happen to the very successful dairy industry when none of the small shops can carry their products? The tourists will stop visiting Tanzania; the hotels won’t be able to afford the cost of constant generator use. How many jobs will be lost? How many businesses will crumble?

It feels like the scale of a natural catastrophe because of the implications for the economy. Fear.

And closer to home….It costs HOPAC about $300 per day to run their generator. And even that won’t run air conditioners. When you’ve got heat in the 90’s and humidity also in the 90’s for days on end, it’s really tough to teach and learn without air conditioners.

I’m mentally preparing myself to get used to life without a fridge. Can I do it? Of course, silly, I tell myself. Billions of people don’t have a fridge. But can I maintain my same lifestyle? Going grocery shopping every day is not in my schedule. More importantly, how will we sleep?

Yes, we have a generator and it is wonderful. But it also costs about $2 an hour to run. Do the math, and you’ll see it’s not terribly realistic to use for hours at a time.

Today we will go to town. To investigate solar power, battery power. Hey, it’s good for the environment too, right?

I wish I could say that we are all just being paranoid. But I’ve lived here 8 years, and I’ve learned a few things, and I know that the worst could happen. I know that for me, I’m worried only about a superficial comfort level and probably a loss in productivity. But what of those whose whole livelihood is at stake? What of a country that is already one of the poorest in the world?

“Though the fig tree does not bud

and there are not grapes on the vines,

though the olive crop fails

and the fields produce no food,

though there are no sheep in the pen

and no cattle in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will be joyful in God my Savior.”

Spring Trees

By Amy Medina

On March 22, 2011

In Other

There was once a chapel speaker at my college who spoke on the topic of complaining. A ripple of conviction went through the whole school. I remember once hearing a student proclaim loudly when walking to class, “It’s hot as hell, but that’s what I deserve, so I’m not complaining!”

I don’t even know who said it, but it goes through my mind all the time. Because, well, I live in a place that is as hot as hell. And this has been the hardest hot season of all my eight years in Tanzania. It has seemed endless. And 60-hour-a-week power cuts have certainly not helped.

And so I grumble. And complain. And whine. All those things that I discipline my kids not to do. Oh, you usually won’t hear me do it, of course. But I think it. And that’s just as bad. Because it’s ultimately not trusting God, isn’t it? Just like the Israelites in the desert. I can make it sound spiritual. “Oh God, fix the power cuts, so that I can be more effective for your kingdom.” Ha. Since when is productivity a priority to God? As if he needs us to do anything. Think Mary and Martha. He’s got more important things in mind.

You would think that after eight years of living in Africa, I would have learned contentment in all circumstances. After all, I am a missionary. ha Ha HA. I get tired, really, of being smacked in the face with how interested I am in my own comfort. It’s easy to think that I’m doing pretty well spiritually, that I’m doing a darn good job living this life God has given me…and then He does something like take away electricity for 5 months, in 90 degree weather with 90% humidity. And I am driven to my knees. But I realize, of course, that there are far greater types of suffering. I am not in prison. I am not in Japan or Libya. I am not in Hell. I am only uncomfortable. What an entirely weak person I am.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water…It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green.

The last four days, the power has stayed on. The city is holding its collective breath. Is this the end? The days are still blistering but the mornings and evenings are cool. Technically, this is southern hemisphere “autumn.” But it still feels like spring to me. Yes, the days are getting cooler instead of warmer, but it still feels like spring. Refreshment. Renewal. Rejuvenation. All the things that represent spring.

It has no worries in a year of drought, and never fails to bear fruit.

I thank God that even when I complain, He always, eventually, sends Spring.

A Beautiful Sight to Behold

By Amy Medina

On February 10, 2011

In Other

Introducing: The Newest (And Probably Most Loved) Member of Our Family

After living here for almost 8 years, we finally caved and bought a generator.

It was a struggle. After all, we always told ourselves that since so many people never have electricity, why was it so hard for us to endure power outages? Buying a generator definitely makes us feel weak. And discontent. And demanding.

But we finally decided it was the right thing to do. We do a lot of ministry in our house. We host Youth Group every Friday night; we have people here for dinner at least twice a week; we host overnight guests all the time. 30 teenagers in the dark….nothing good can happen then.

And you know what? It’s hot here. It’s kind of a defining sort of hot. Like, you ask someone, “How are you doing?” And he answers, “Well, I’m hot.” That’s the standard answer. It’s the first thing that comes to your mind when asked to describe your state of mind. It’s like Florida in the summer, but it lasts six months…or longer. My face is always shiny; my hair is always in a pony tail. So fans are a basic necessity to function. If you really want to be productive, air conditioning is the way to go…but these days, I’ll settle for even fans.

Tanzania always has power problems. But this year….this year will go down in history. People are saying, “It hasn’t been this bad since 2006.” Power rationing started over three months ago. Meaning, the power doesn’t just go off when a line goes down or something goes wrong. It means the power goes off because the power company cuts it off–it can’t produce enough electricity for the country. And it’s increasingly gotten worse. Now, it’s like clockwork. Every other day, it’s off from 8:00 am to 6:00 pm, and on the other days it’s off from 6:00 pm to 11:00 pm.

I have to tell you, it’s rough right now. For months, the power problems were the first thing anyone talked about. Our students complained about it on Facebook every day. Now, people are just tired. Hot, tired, and worn out. People don’t talk about it anymore because what else is there to say? We just look tired. We don’t sleep as well; we don’t work as well. HOPAC has a generator which can only run the lights and fans–no air conditioning. And on days like these, that makes teaching really, really hard. You can’t keep anything in the fridge; unless you have a gas stove, you can’t cook. You have to constantly be thinking about plugging in your phone or your computer to keep them charged.

But of course, that’s nothing compared to how it’s affecting all the small businesses in the country. The tailors, the welders, the carpenters, the mechanics. There’s a small store down the road which I like to frequent; they lost their entire freezer of ice cream. You know what that does financially to a small store like that? It’s discouraging and disheartening to see.

I can’t tell you how much our generator has made a difference in our lives in the last few weeks. I can’t run it all day; gas is too expensive. But I turn it on for 3 hours during the day so that Josiah can nap and I can get some work done and do some laundry. And we run it when the cuts come in the evenings. It’s helped our stress levels significantly and I am so thankful God provided the means to buy it. But our country is in a crisis–a hot, slow, suffocating crisis, and it’s hard to wait for relief.