Mt. Meru, by Hannah

For my 16^th birthday (which was back in September), my parents gave me a trip with dad to Arusha, TZ to climb Mount Meru, the 5^th highest mountain in Africa. The hike began January 28 and we would be on the mountain for three days--two days up and one day down. Meru was once a volcano that erupted with such force it blew one entire side of the mountain away and left a huge crater encircled with a sharp ridge and cliffs. The climb begins on the crater floor and then ascends the outer wall of the ridge.  

            After arranging park and ranger fees at the gate, we began a 6 hour hike of 1000 meters (About 3200 feet) to the first camp, situated at 2,500 meters above sea level. The scenery on the way up was stunning as we passed through dense, lush forest where giraffe, monkeys, and Cape buffalo freely roamed. Tree branches intertwined in a canopy at least 40 feet above us.

 The second day was equally beautiful with very different vegetation thriving in the thick clouds that float around the tree line. Spanish moss hung from the branches like snow and the entire forest was very ancient and untouched. The trail was steeper than the first day, as we were ascending another 1000 meters in only 4 hours. At the halfway point in the trail, it began pouring freezing rain and hail on us. As we had sent our coats and other cold gear on ahead with the porters, we had only thin long-sleeved shirts in our packs, and these were soon drenched.

 There was nothing to do but keep moving in spite of our numb hands and chilled bodies. When we finally reached Saddle hut at 3500 meters, we tried to dry some of our supplies out and warm ourselves up with many cups of chai. That evening after the rain had ceased, we did a short acclimatization hike up ‘Little’ Meru, a smaller peak opposite the summit.

             In order to reach the summit by sunrise, we awoke at midnight to begin climbing the jagged peaks leading to the top. The hike took 5 hours as we ascended yet another thousand meters to the summit. This portion of the climb was very rocky and steep and much of the time we were trudging through thick ash. Nothing grew at all save a few tiny yellow flowers here and there. Thick clouds were buffeting us constantly from one side as we walked an edge with vertical cliffs on one side and a steep ash slope on the other. 

  The mist and darkness made it impossible to see anything beyond several paces forward. The landscape was so desolate that it felt like we were walking on the moon with nothing green or alive in sight. Nearer the summit snow lay 3 inches thick over the trail and the rocks were slick with ice.

            At around 6:00 we reached the summit of Mount Meru. The mist hid everything from view and as it was still dark and freezing cold, we stayed only a few minutes before we began our descent. However, on the way down the mist cleared for about an hour and we had stunning views of the crater, the ash cone, and the valleys surrounding the incredible mountain.

 We got back to Saddle Hut at around 8 and rested briefly. Because we had chosen the three day trip we had to descend the entire way to the gate in one day. Over about 19 kilometers we descended more than 9000 feet on the steep trail. By the time we reached level ground our legs were like gelatin and our feet ached.

 Mount Meru is the most spectacular mountain I have ever seen and I hope to one day climb it again!            

Humbled, again!

This balancing act of living with the poor—it never really goes away.  Fall off one side, and you’re drowning in a sea of guilt.  On the other side, the callousness that comes from being familiar, too familiar, with suffering and need. 

We were sitting in a restaurant in Mwanza, cool breezes coming off the lake, menu in hands waiting to order, when my Lisa got a text on her phone. 

“What should we order? Hmmmm…”

“Oh, this is humbling.  One of the pastors texted to see if we can help him out a little bit just until his harvest comes in.”

Yes, that is humbling.  Staring at the menu deciding, while our brother doesn’t have enough food for his family.

Dave and I had a (truly) spare bag of grain given by the government to every household in this area.  We thought maybe it would help the pastor out and sent it with Bill about a week later.

After church, he told Pastor Petro that he had something for him, opening the back of the car.  He pulled out the maize, Petro truly astonished.

 “When I left this morning to go preach, my wife told me that we had nothing left to eat.  She asked me what we were going to eat for lunch.  I told her that I didn’t know, but God would provide.  Then I went to preach.”

That was even more humbling.  Yes, God did a miracle for this dear pastor with six children, but what humbled me was that He did it with our excess.

Today’s message was about the rich young ruler.  The application was humbling along the same lines once again:  we are all richer than someone, we all have something to share.  This is a message preached to a congregation that really does live on probably a dollar a day.  And me. 

We have so much to share.

Lord, help my heart to be so filled with you that it spills out in all areas—my words, my actions, my generosity...

Gifts of Grace

December, in its typical fashion, was full of gifts. 

I always think of this verse when I think of mom and dad: Psalm 92:14 They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming,
 “The LORD is upright; He is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in Him.”

My parents were able to join us for the whole month, and we took full advantage of them!  Mom and dad do member care for missionaries (mostly in Asia). 

They are willing to do anything and everything we ask of them when they visit! 

Dad checked all our Mavuno children out

Mom gets up close and personal with Hannah's snake,
who was, quite unfortunately, "lost" in the house TWICE while she was here!

 We were able to have a mini-marriage retreat at our house one day

with some of our missionary friends.

  

That was a blessing, especially since we never have anything like that available in our area.  And of course, it was a gift just to be together for that long when we don’t see each other often. 

One of the biggest gifts of December was Carter and Jake each asking to be baptized by “Uncle” Bill, a great family friend who has been very important in the boys’ lives.  It was with great joy that we watched them declare their desire to follow Christ and we pray that they will follow Him for the rest of their lives! 

 

We spent a quiet Christmas day celebrating the birth of our Savior, the greatest GIFT the world has ever, ever known.  

the kids open their gifts at our Mavuno Christmas party

We don’t dream of white Christmases—they are almost always sunny and green, and we enjoyed being outside  in the beautiful weather.  When we first arrived in Africa, we missed many of the things that we associate with Christmas in America—music, trees, winter, etc.  

our annual White Elephant gift exchange is always a big hit :)

But we have come to enjoy the simplicity SO much over the years and it has helped us focus on the Reason we celebrate on a day that outwardly feels much like any other!

Wishing you and yours a beautiful 2013!

John 10:4

When He has brought out all His own,

He goes on ahead of them, and His sheep follow Him

because they know His voice!

Celebrating the New Year!

New Life

The young woman gave birth to a tiny baby by the light of a cell phone.

I was supposed to take Sato (17) to a clinic nearby when she was ready to deliver this little one, but when I arrived about ten minutes after the call, early in the morning, she had just given birth.  I ducked into her small mud hut, and laying on a sheet of plastic in a pool of blood was a tiny body, and mercifully, he was screaming to exercise his newly-found vocal chords. 

Eliza was there, and she had laid the plastic down.  Her grandma taught her to deliver babies, and what she lacked in knowledge, she more than made up for in enthusiasm and confidence. :)

Not that I knew any more than she did (and I didn’t make up for it in confidence, either!).  Doula training does not train you for delivering babies in mud huts. 

She hadn’t delivered the placenta yet, and the new razor that they ordered from a little shop in the center of town hadn’t arrived, so the baby was still attached.  I scrambled for gloves in the medical kit—thankfully we had one pair left. 

The two women who were there were worried about the placenta.  We tried to have baby nurse to help the process along.  I fumbled to wrap his little body up, still attached, yelling to someone to go ask Joel for a good light. 

This ended up being trickier than I thought, as it is culturally inappropriate to tell someone that a woman is delivering a baby, so she kept telling Joel that “mama Hannah needs a flashlight” and he was wondering why I would need one when I have several at my own house.  :)

Sato was in pain, squatting on the floor.  I told her to push when she felt that pain— get that placenta out.   We prayed for God to have mercy and help her and help us.

I knew that greetings in this culture were important, but I had no idea how important until the other neighbor ladies were coming in, each one greeting Sato with a “good morning,” which she answered, cringing, every one. 

 Mama Eunie came in, a neighbor whom I know, carrying a big ugali (their corn-meal staple) stick that they use to stir the pot.  I was wondering what the purpose of the stick was, especially when she asked the other women if that one was big enough or too big.  “It’s fine,” was their reply.  I was trying to help Sato, keeping a wary eye on that stick when all of a sudden Mama Eunie stood behind her, yanked her chin up and jammed the stick down her throat, making her convulse in gagging.  It was quick and horrible.  She was going to do it again and I begged her to just wait.

Of course, it worked.  

About a minute later the placenta came.  And this whole time the baby was still attached until Lauren (Wildasin) arrived with sterile scissors and some string and moral support (at the same time the long-awaited-for razor arrived).   And we tied off the life-cord and wrapped the baby good.  And Sato was still squatting there, no one helping her—all the women just chattering, excited, wondering why I wanted the baby to nurse right away.   “It’s true,” one said, “when I had my baby at the government hospital, they wanted it to nurse right away as well.”  Oh, ok—all the ladies now thought it was probably a good idea.  If you walked through the hospital she was talking about, you might marvel that this was their standard for great health care. 

We wrapped Sato up with kangas—the material they use for everything, and laid her down on her mattress on the dirt floor.  Baby snuggled in next to her and they tucked in the mosquito net all around. 

our vegetable scale to weigh the new babe

 As awful as it was to watch the stick/placenta method, I was thankful they had not yanked on the cord, they had waited for a sterile razor instead of using a chicken-butchering knife or some other sharp object. Yes, they deliver babies in their huts all the time, but they also have a high infant mortality rate. 

Sato and Meggy and baby boy

My parents arrived that day, and when we got back from town after picking them up, baby had still not nursed all day long.   “He doesn’t want to!”   After sitting with her for quite a while, he started nursing.  He was pretty little—he definitely needed the warmth and food.  The next day, Dad was able to check him all out and we weighed him in at 4 ½ pounds and he was healthy, healthy.  (The last time mom and dad arrived, Kate was just getting out of finger surgery.  I think they might be a little wary themselves!). 

There was another teenager who delivered a baby two thousand years ago, and Lauren and I kept thinking about that—how similar it was to that night we will celebrate in two weeks.  It was dirty and we didn’t have what we needed and everything was so raw and un-sterile, and we wished that instead of “getting back to nature,” we could have a little less nature, thank you.  Surely Joseph didn’t know better.  Maybe the innkeeper's wife helped.   

 “And they wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger…”

full of hay or grain and no doubt some sheep slobber...

it wasn’t sterile or tidy,

it was bloody and it stunk like cows and I don’t think it looked anything like our neat little manger scene that we have on our coffee table…

but it was holy, and it was what we celebrate:

that GOD chose to make His appearance in a barn and let himself be at the mercy of men,

born in a place where animals ate and slept,

to be Emmanuel—to come be with us in a way that Sato can relate to better than I might be able to, because He came for all people, especially the simple, and those who cling to Him because He is all they have.