Brokenness

As the new pilot for MAF Tanzania I was able to go on a medical outreach to the village of Gorimba for the first time last month. I was deeply impacted. Hundreds of mothers crowded in a line leading into a small room where I and a Tanzanian nurse sat to fill out paperwork (in Swahili) before these women and their children could be seen by the nurses and doctors. Sweat poured down their faces as they held their babies under the harsh sun, waiting for hours before it was their turn. They had already traveled far across the dusty bushland of Tanzania to get here. Flies buzzed around the babies' faces attempting to drink the moisture around their eyes and mouth. As sad as this is, they are used to it. The dust, the dry seasons, the hard manual labor, and the struggle to survive and raise a family. Life is harsh in the remote villages.

A month had passed since that first experience, and we were scheduled for another clinic in Gorimba. I looked forward to my second visit - to help the nurses with the paperwork, interact with the children, and talk with the Tanzanian evangelist hosting the clinic. But then the unexpected happened. The evening before the scheduled clinic we had a flat front tire in the remote village of Endanyawish. Upon further inspection it was found that the valve had broken off. In an instant my eager anticipation of revisiting Gorimba was shattered and replaced with another emotion. A sense of failure. Something so simple as a broken valve would cost us a six hour ride through the night back to Haydom with eleven other people stuffed inside a Land Cruiser. Additionally we would have to send another pilot to retrieve a new wheel and mechanic in Dodoma where our maintenance facility was based. Six flight hours and one whole day down the drain. 

But more importantly the outreach clinic to Gorimba had to be cancelled. Having no means of being contacted, the women and children would make the long trek through the bush to arrive for the clinic. Some, while pregnant and carrying children, will have get up at 2 am to begin their tedious six hour walk in order to make it in time. However, today, all these women and children would arrive only to be disappointed. We were not coming this time and, due to scheduling, would not be able to return for another month. 

Disappointment seems to regularly visit these people. Not quite ten years ago over 10% of children did not live to reach the age of five and 18% of women died during childbirth. Such needless loss! Thanks to the work of so many, this is slowly changing. I guess in this way we are not failing. 

We are not failing because I am part of a team of nine people from all over the world - Tanzania, England, South Africa, Finland, and America. We have left our families and the countries we love to serve God and the people of these remote villages. And why? Because we care. The needless death of a child or of a mother in childbirth is not acceptable. This cannot be ignored. If we do not serve, then who will? I need to, even if in a small way, to bring God’s love and show them that we care despite the desperate situations. So much of this world is broken, but the love of God goes beyond brokenness. Even beyond a broken tire valve.