The remaining days

My flight from Maputo to Nairobi, Kenya was quiet. I watched the documentary on the making of Paul Simon's Graceland twice through. I enjoyed the music and it kept certain realities before me. A few of his statements in this documentary touched my thinking..."make a powerful statement gently"...."culture can't be owned by an individual but it can be shared by all". And when questioned about the outrage his album and tour caused in South Africa, he responded, "I'll tell you about feelings by writing a song from my own heart, not from their heart." In response to further criticism of raising music from within the Apartheid ghettos, he responded, "This is not about the incredible evil that is, but the incredible beauty and gifts that are for the world." Good perspectives for me to use for my ongoing reflections.

Morning came early and the flight into Entebbe was lovely over the Kenyan landscape and over Lake Victoria. I got connected to a young man for the ride to Kampala. Gary was my son's age and spoke English very well. I sat in the front of the taxi and we talked the whole hour into the city. He shared his story of having to leave school because the economic crisis hit the cost of living and took the little savings he had just to survive. He is now driving taxi trying desperately to find a way to continue his computer studies.

After a stop at an internet cafe to check for those elusive confirmations of a meeting I was hoping for tomorrow, I was delivered safe and sound at my son's place once again. The rest of the afternoon I unpacked and rested. I was nice to see my son again but I was acutely aware that I was a different person now than when I left him nearly 2 weeks ago.

The next days were spent writing my blogs and spending time with my son. It was his birthday on Saturday and we went to the Animal Rescue compound in Entebbe. It was a nice time looking at giraffes and zebras and monkeys and birds of all sorts. It was very warm though and I think my tiredness was catching up. We were going to go to the Botanical gardens as well but opted for a nice little outdoor restaurant instead. And I finally got my Boda-Boda ride - a whole 15 mins on a very slow road. I was out of memory card space on my camera so no proof of that!!

That night we met up with Richardson again for supper (my son's research assistant). It was nice to see him again and I sure do wish him well with his future. Such a nice young man.

Sunday was a trip to the Ugandan museum. Fascinating displays and it covered both the ancient civilizations as well as tribal history and artifacts. Going to a museum with a history buff is always interesting!!

Before I knew it was time to finish packing and think about my long flights back to Canada. I called up Gary the young taxi driver to take me back to Entebbe Airport. Saying good-bye to my son was challenging for I won't see him again till Christmas in all likelihood. There was much for him to do yet here in Uganda and I prayed that all will go well for him and with him. A mother always worries.

The ride back was interesting as well with Gary. This time he asked me questions about Tanzania and Mozambique. Then he talked about the upcoming elections and how that impacts people in different villages depending on majority government presence in the village. Once again the reality of fear among these people was evident.

My flight departed a little late which made for a long wait in the boarding area. We boarded just after midnight. I slept sporadically. We arrived in Amsterdam around 7:30 local time (10:30 Ugandan time). I had a long wait for the Canada bound flight so I found an internet cafe and settled in for 4 hours of reflection and writing. That was useful time.

The trans-atlantic flight was smooth and comfortable - I had opted for the sized up seats that give you much more leg room. I also found out that it was generally much quieter, at least this time. It was pleasant and I enjoyed seeing the ice on the ocean as we neared Labrador. Our flight path took us over the north edges of the St. Lawrence and onward past Ottawa to Toronto. I was greeted by family complete with flowers - seems to have become a tradition for when I travel like this. Good to be loved and good to be home.

Thank you for journeying with me on this pilgrimage of the heart, soul and mind. May you be blessed and encouraged to respond to your call to reach towards the wonderful people of this world, no matter where they live or how they live.

Blessings
Tiina

Wednesday, March 10th

Once again I woke to hear the sounds of the children gathering. I tried to let that experience burrow into my consciousness. I finished packing, had some breakfast, used the computer to check flight information and my emails. I was still waiting for confirmation about meeting with the Women's organization in Uganda. It was somewhat surreal.

I also made some quick notes for the Pastors' meeting which was going to be held this morning on Pastor Bene's request. It was strange to move my big suitcase into the truck.

When we arrived some of the Pastors were already present. We ended up holding the meeting a little earlier than we thought. Fausta Cipriano Delgada joined us - she is the head of the CCM. Representing the Methodist Church was Pastor Isaias; the Anglican church was Pastor Eugenio; The Presbyterian Church, Pastor Pirilau; the United Baptist Church, Pastor Duorte; and representing the Church of the Nazarene was Pastor Chorlos. Pastor Bene chaired the meeting which started with prayer and a hymn.

There was a formality to this. The Pastors asked what I had seen on my journey. I asked Bill who was translating for me again if the Pastors were aware of the places we had been. He said yes so I then responded with more philosophical response. I heard laughter above the pain; the silence of the land at rest; I saw courage and passion and leadership; I heard a prophet and saw efforts to build the kingdom of God.

Not sure how that resonated. Later Bill indicated that I was quite philosophical. That's not the first time I've heard that about my reflections.

However, I also asked the Pastors what they hoped that I would see. That brought more lively conversation to the table. One commented that "with knowledge you can free yourself from slavery of all kinds". Another mentioned the war they wage against AIDS, droughts and floods. A third focused on the need for Bible translations into the local dialects. The need for new liturgical resources and training and support of Pastors brought much energy from the participants. Pastor Bene spoke of the need for long term training of pastors to position them to engage their communities of faith with the lives of the people and the government. Many of the village and town Pastors have only Grade 7 education which makes it difficult to teach and mobilize these servants in new and creative ways. He lifted up the need to train the laity to be more fully equipped for their ministry with the church. All pointed to the desire for a long term relationship to develop the capacity of all their leaders within the framework of the CCM. Pastor Bene also mentioned his desire to see the medicinal plants project which is now virtually sustainable to be developed in those most needy areas of the country. That certainly resonated with my feelings yesterday.

The PEDRA girls brought out their cake and some drinks while the we chatted informally. When we finished that, I went to change for my flight while Karen and Bill had some work to get done before taking me to the airport. The Pastors stayed on for their own meeting and I had a chance to say good bye to Pastor Bene after that.

While I used Bill's office to recharge my phone and camera equipment, he took me into the recording studio where the musicians were finishing the tracks for a new video and a small choir was waiting to record a CD. The importance of this music/video ministry was now profound. What regard I have for this young generation that is doing so much to change the circumstances of living in their country. I am honoured to have met all of them. I thank God for them.

Soon it was time for the ride to the airport and check-in. Karen and Bill sat with me till noon. I would be boarding soon and they had much work to do back at the office. We said our goodbyes for now, knowing that we will see each other again in the fall when they return to Canada for their home assignments. It made it easier to say thanks and see ya!!

The long series of flights to Uganda began. I left Quelimane for Maputo with a stop in the eastern city of Tete first. I was still emotionally numb. Once I arrived in Maputo I had a long wait for my flight to Nairobi, Kenya via Harare, Zimbabwe. I found an outdoor restaurant overlooking the airstrip. I began to journal and with the journalling came the tears. I had many hours to let things surface, to look at them again and to begin to make some sense of my experience and their impact on my spirit. I was ultimately very thankful for this quiet time alone with the strong land of Mozambique still before my eyes and the strength of it people in my heart.

Tuesday afternoon, March 9th

After a quick trip home for some lunch and a clean-up, we were back again to the CCM offices to prepare for the next visit. This time a slightly older young adult by the name of Borges was the lead in a food supplementation program for HIV/AIDS patients in the barrio. If you have read my other entries, you may recall the importance of good nutrition when starting anti-viral drugs. The people we were to meet were truly the poorest of the poor. Food and clean water was scarce, never mind nutritional food. I don't know the name of the barrio we were to visit - someone casually said that this is the end of the line for those who have had to flee discrimination or expulsion from families. I didn't know what to expect. My mind and heart were very tender from the experiences over the last few days. I was quiet, somehow deeply aware that I was to walk into something that I really needed to walk into.

Borges had prepared matters well. Each of the people we were to visit had been asked if it was alright that others would come along. I am sure that he explained to them Karen's role and my presence. Some had said no, not wishing to draw any more attention to themselves within even this community.

We found the first home and got out of the car. There, laying on a mat, was a women in her early twenties though she looked much, much older. Her son was by her side and her mother was there to help. As she struggled to raise her head but could not, my pastoral skills kicked in - detach emotionally and focus on the most immediate need of the person. I handed my camera off to one of the other young men - it was time to be fully present in this space, not take pictures. All I could do was to maintain eye contact her when possible and somehow convey to her that she was not alone. Borges turned out to excel in pastoral skills - his voice was calm and reassuring, his gestures and attitude conveyed respect and dignity to the person and there wasn't an ounce of judgment about her circumstances. He checked in with her about her most immediate state of health. He shared her circumstances with us and her basic challenges. Like most HIV women, they are without partners and left to care for the children on their own. This woman was fortunate to have her mother come from their village to help as she could. When the food arrived, Borges explained to the mother the need to make her daughter eat to minimize the effects of the medicine. There was a sense of gratitude. I also pray that there was a sense of hope for them.

This next case challenged us all. This woman and her two children and mother had been robbed of absolutely everything they owned - clothes, pots, food and even the prescription for her anti-viral drugs. The grandmother herself was badly crippled. Neither child went to school. Their home showed signs of considerable deterioration and they were having problems with rats at night. Earlier that day, neighbours had pity on them and had brought a bowl and people poured in a little bit of rice as they could. But no charcoal for cooking or nothing to cook in.

The strain showed in Borges face. The disbelief was evident in all our faces. Two thoughts went through my mind, both of which felt like they would erupt in rage. The first I believe was common to us all in that circle - how could anyone take such advantage of the disadvantaged!?
It took a few moments for the answer to arise through another question: what desperation was that person experiencing that would cause such behaviour towards a fellow human being. Perhaps I'm naive.

The second question that raged through my mind came about because of my experiences with the women at the Medi-Plantas project. Perhaps without that experience I would have simply wallowed in the horridness of these circumstances. But I saw what a difference could be made through the medicinal plants and consistent support and education. It is a proven difference. No amount of money should prevent the development of that project in every corner of this country. I rage even now, the only difference being that I rage to others whereas then I kept the turbulent feelings silent.

The next woman was far less incapacitated. Her and her son lived in a rental home that was falling apart. There was little to cook with and no food. Yet she was mobile and in relatively good health at the moment. She was anxious to work and take her son out of these circumstances while she had relative health. Her determination reminded me of the women in Molumbo.

Back in the truck, drive through this maze of roads and pull up for the next people. The house before us was large and well built. The husband who had done the work died leaving the wife at home and unable to care for herself. She had a daughter who lived reasonably near but the daughter refused to help her. Interestingly that same daughter came into the house as we talked with this women (you can see her legs in the corner in this picture). I think we all got the sense that this daughter was likely to take half the food we were going to give to the mother. Borges did not confront the daughter and I was unaware if something was said quietly that did not get translated to me.
Borges remained calm and engaging of the woman herself.

A little further around a corner was another woman on her mat. She is an older teenager. She has a son and most uncommonly, her husband who himself is 16 has decided to stay with them. Because of my Canadian context and our ability to seek out support services for the caregivers themselves, I wondered who this young man turned to with the problems before him. It was interesting to see how Borges responded to the young man and drew him into the sphere of dignity that he developed with all of these people. It was to this young man that Borges explained the need for nutritional support and encouraged him. It was nice to experience the laughter in this space.
The next young woman was HIV positive but was more concerned about her baby who was also HIV positive. The medical system teaches the mothers who have AIDS to not breastfeed their children after the first few months. The longer the child is breastfed, the higher the risk of infection. But what is a mother to do when there is little food or clean water? Early intervention and support seems so easy to say, but with many, many children infected early to mothers who have been abandoned or forced to leave their communities of support only to be left to fend for themselves, how easy is this to do?
When we went to the next site we met 3 women who had become a small network of support for each other. This excited all of us for we know how the quality of life increases when you have friends to be there for you. I saw in them that look I met in the Medi-Plantas program. Karen quickly began to talk to them about the importance of what they were doing. She mentioned the other more mobile and independent woman we had met earlier and suggested that maybe she could be part of the group. They seemed to suggest that woman was indeed on that got these others together. How wonderful to witness this! Karen and Borges talked to them about the Medi-Plantas women and the PEDRA success of doing things together. Karen explained to them that the PEDRA t-shirts could help their visibility in this neighbourhood and maybe others would like to join their group. The women seemed to react positively to these thoughts.How positive was all that!
The woman in the middle picture lived a little bit down the road and she insisted to Borges that we come to her house to see how she lived. She was fiercely independent and proud of it. The house was orderly, the laundry was drying and her smile would melt you. I prayed that life will give her a chance for she seemed poised for something.
This was such a positive experience and reinforced for me that notion of trying to start a Medi-Plantas project here for there was already a potential team of women who could be educated and helped to start. I did however, keep that notion to myself at this point.

We had one more visit and delivery to do. Around the back of a modest home was a women sitting on her mat while her sons were grinding the corn into flour. Her husband paced around the yard and finally sat a distance away where he could observe things but not be part of the conversation. This woman's sister also had AIDS and had recently deteriorated. Seeing that obviously made this woman very sad and afraid for herself. She also seemed nervous with her husband sitting there and watching us. Borges did a good job of repositioning himself to block the view of the husband in order to create a safer space. He truly has been remarkable in his ability to read and react to every situation we walked into.

This afternoon was exhausting. On the way back to the CCM office, Borges asked if we could take a bit of time to have some feedback from me. My mind and heart were still swirling but I agreed. After a short break we met in the PEDRA room under the fans which I was most grateful for. A cold drink refreshed me and I turned my thoughts to what I was going to reflect back to these young men and the ministry they have taken upon themselves.

I hope I gave them some useful feedback. I know I praised their abilities in setting up the programs with the local leaders. I hope I conveyed my utmost respect for Borges and his skills with the people he was working with. I do also know that something I said or how it was heard made Borges defensive. I had tried to explain how I approach these challenges in Canada with the range of options and support services available to us. A multi-disciplinary approach is feasible; therefore I think of support for caregivers, food protection measures, transportation options etc. Somehow it seemed that he heard that as a judgment of their work that fell short of my measuring stick. When I realized this misunderstanding, I tried to correct it but i could tell from his eyes that he was left a little deflated. I so regret that for his work was outstanding in his context of options.

After this session, we were all tired. Time to go back to Karen and Bill's home and have a quiet evening. After a brief time on their lovely porch full of plants, the mosquitoes started to invade. We moved inside and talked through supper about the last days and particularly today. Bill and Karen were offering us all a chance to debrief from the intensity. My emotions were still largely locked up and the conversation was more from my head rather than my heart. It was however nice to talk about the Mozambican context while acknowledging our Canadian context as an affecting worldview. The darkness came soon and it was time for my last sleep in Mozambique.

I leave this day with a picture of the PEDRA girls making a cake for tomorrow's goodbye. They had started the pan cake in the oven in their meeting room but then the electricity went out. Being brilliantly resourceful girls, they quickly made a fire in the courtyard of the office complex and continued to bake the cake there. I understand there were more challenges but I can say the cake turned out delicious!

Tuesday morning, March 9th

I awoke to the sounds of laughter and play in the school yard next door. It was a delightful sound which reminded me again why the land feels at rest and whom it longs to nourish. Before I got too emotionally reconnected to the events and conversations of the last 3 days, my alarm went off. It was time to get ready quickly - we had a very busy day again. A quick breakfast and we were off to the CCM office in Quelimane.

This morning I would be accompanying a team of young adults to Marabo which is a barrio outside of Quelimane in the swampy lands close to the ocean. These young adults participated in a training program that Bill developed some years ago. The goal of the training program was to give the necessary skills and perspectives on the development of community outreach programs. They learned issues such as visioning, concept development, budgeting, accountability, and community relations. During the program, the participants developed and undertook some small projects in order to debrief them collectively.

Since that training, there was funding found for a position to develop more such projects. Three of the young men decided to time share that position and thus a team was developed. One takes the lead for one project, the other 2 assist. On another project, a different leader and different assistants. This morning Balmero had designed and taken the lead on the distribution of mosquito nets in local barrios.

With the truck loaded up, Karen and I joined the team and Jack in the journey to Marabo. Once off the main road we needed to travel through the fields to get to the barrio. Soon we approached what look like a village on a travel brochure. How looks can deceive! Here was a forgotten place, unknown to some locals as well. Like so many areas of deep poverty, Marabo has to deal with high rates of malaria which remains the number one health problem in the country and the single largest killer of infants.

In preparation for today's delivery, Balmero (on the left) had developed a relationship with the Secretary of the barrio (middle) as well as Parent Council representatives (right). There were 80 mosquito nets that would be distributed. It was the local leaders that were going to decide which people were going to receive the nets. Generally, the priority people are orphaned children , pregnant mothers, those with disabilities, and the elderly.

When we stopped the truck and got out, the children gathered quickly. Once again my camera helped break down the shyness. But also quickly it was time to begin the distribution of the nets. The villagers had already begun to gather and Balmero was preparing for the recording of the necessary documents. How patiently everyone waited for their name to be called out. When it was, they had to sign for the net. I was so impressed at how smoothly everything had gone. Even though there were people in the barrio who had not received a mosquito net and were obviously upset over that, the Secretary of the Barrio was able to handle the situation very well.
When all the people had received their nets and had gathered for the demonstration, Balmero indicated a desire for me to speak to the people. I was from Canada and a United Church minister and these nets came through the generousity of the people in London Conference of The United Church of Canada. I had nothing to do with this wonderful gift of mosquito nets, but I was there before them. Once again, I was uncomfortable in the role. But then Karen gave me a new perspective that really challenged my self understanding. She reminded me again that the people in this area of Mozambique rarely have visitors from around the world. This was about their thoughts and feelings both of which were touched and amazed that someone has cared enough about them to come half way around the world to listen to them and help them. This statement jolted me into a new reality. They do not see my remorse for the history I too carry. They do not see my inherent wealth. They see that I cared enough to come to them which is all my heart ever wants to do. I almost lost it in that moment. I have no recollection of what I said but I remember clearly one elderly woman passionately thanking me for coming and bringing these nets for the barrio. Again I was humbled, this time by the realization of how much 'baggage' I have carried when I travel; bags of apologetics over a past that granted me privilege in this world of inequality. But for the first time I was aware that my intentions and love far outweighed that baggage. This was a hard moment of a new truth that was also profoundly liberating.

On our way back to the truck we stopped in the school to say hello to the teacher and his students. One complication in the education system in Mozambique is that Portuguese is not the first language of many students, particularly in the villages. There they maintain their local dialects yet education is only offered in Portuguese. When children start elementary school, often it takes longer since the children need to learn Portuguese. This puts them immediately behind academically. If I understood correctly, one very positive element of their education system is that teachers are sent to villages other than their own upon graduation. The philosophy of this strategy is to break down village or tribal based relationships and understandings and promote tolerance and communication between all the different components of the society. We did not stay long so as not to disturb their studies. I longed to be able to speak with them like Karen did. Common language is indeed precious for relationship building.

On our way out of Balmero, we stopped at a roadside market. Karen bought some different vegetables and fruit. The young men bought various things that I understood that they will sell later in the city for a small profit. The ride back to the CCM office was good as the young men obviously felt that the project had gone very well. I was pleased for them. It was a good testament to the training program that they had gone through with Bill.

Monday, March 8th

It was an early rise again and I had time to go out for a little stroll by myself before breakfast. I had noticed over the days of journey, a number of empty, scarred colonial type buildings. I was told that these were the jails used by the Portuguese during the very long and particularly cruel colonial period. This is the building across the road from the Clinic.

I am particularly careful to talk about a history that I barely know. My son's study of Ugandan history has sensitized me to the necessity to learn deeply the history of a people from the perspectives of the oppressed and not only the victors or the power brokers. Since I have not yet done that kind of reading on the history of Mozambique I only can offer what seems to be a common perception that colonialism was different in this country and other Portuguese colonies, different from the French and English colonies. The primary reasons seem to stem from the fact that Portugal was the first to colonize Africa in the mid-1400's. In addition to the long term cruel effects of a major slave export to the wealthy in Europe and prolific resource extraction, Portugal carried a dream of ruling Africa forever. This experiment was tested in Angola and Mozambique. The 1951 Portuguese constitution officially made Portugal an “Afro-European” power. As a result, Angola and Mozambique became Portuguese “provinces". Walter Rodney summarizes Portuguese colonial rule in Africa in very few words. “The Portuguese stand out because they boasted the most and did the least.” Angola remained a Portuguese colony for about 500 years, but after independence, all this country could show for was a bloody civil war. “After close to half a thousand years,” says Rodney, “not a single medical doctor had been trained in Portuguese Mozambique.” (Walter Rodney, born in Guyana was known for setting then new standards in his 1970 PhD Thesis for the development of history from the perspectives of the oppressed.)

The post WWII anti-colonial movements became organized with vigor in the early 1960's and independence was gained on June 25, 1975. Portuguese population's rapid exodus left the Mozambican economy in disarray and the eruption of the Mozambican civil war (1977-1992) destroyed much of the remaining wealth. An estimated 1 million Mozambicans perished during the civil war, 1.7 million took refuge in neighboring states, and several million more were internally displaced. This is one of many monuments that dot the rural landscape in memory of the huge number of people who were killed in these struggles. A series of democratic, multi-party elections have been held successfully since 1994 as the country begins to rebuild itself against so many odds. Mozambique remains one of the 10 poorest countries in the world. Combating the complex web of poverty and just development is seriously complicated by the climatic and geographical conditions of the land

My stroll alone allowed me to go through the exercise of trying to feel this land upon which I stood. Bare feet on warm earth works wonders. It was in this moment of meditation that I came to sense the gentleness and tiredness of this land as if it was simply trying to breathe, free of its horrid past; not in the sense of forgetting the past, but taking the blood that was spilled into the soil and hoping and offering it to once again to nourish its people. This was a sensory experience for me and has taken some time to put some tentative words around it. Hope it makes sense to some of you.

Within this peaceful time, I was called to breakfast which had been running a little late. We all gathered but certainly Bill and Pastor Manteiga were focused on their work ahead - Pastor Manteiga had arranged with some of the people that have been helped through the Medi-Plantas program to be interviewed and videotaped for the documentary that Bill was working on. This documentary will supplement the educational resources already produced around this vital and unique health ministry. Already, interviews with Pastor Manteiga are played on national radio and CCM through Bill has produced 36 - 20 minute videos of the various partners, doctors, aides etc involved in Medi-Plantas. The next challenge is to produce these educational resources in the local dialects to increase their effectiveness. As we ate, people were beginning to arrive and breakfast happened fairly quickly.

As Bill and Karen and Pastor Manteiga gathered with the people on the front porch, I finally found my opportunity to invite Pastor Bene into a conversation. We walked under the fruit trees in the side yard to get some shade and talked for a while. I am often bold and direct in these conversations. I sense I was bold but also confusing in this particular conversation. All my contemplations of the right questions to focus on seemed to have disappeared with the emotional conversation last night after dinner. Nonetheless, Pastor Bene was forthright when my questions finally got clearer. He offered a very intriguing interpretation and image for our conversation. In the story of Moses (Exodus 3-4) there is a time when Moses is trying to get out of what God is asking him to do. He argues that no-one will listen or believe him, to which God directs Moses' attention to the simple staff in his hand. Through the very simple item Moses held, God performed wonders. Pastor Bene claimed that all of us have something in our hand, something that we have been given to work with and we only need to have enough faith to know that God will perform wonders with even the simple thing we hold - we just have to use it!! That resonated within our conversation. It was an authentic dialogue and one that pushed aside what I previously sensed as the formality between us. I am deeply thankful for that.

I was beckoned once again to come and meet the people that had just been interviewed. They were wanting to meet me and had indicated that they would like to try and answer any questions that I might have of them. Was that a moment of humility for me! I don't know what I thought I would walk into, but the power of spirit that filled that space was remarkable. There were a couple of older women that were full of life and feisty as I would call one with a glint in their eyes and a fierce determination in their voice. Defiantly throwing off the stigmatization that comes from families and communities when one becomes infected by HIV, these women totally inspired me - resiliency oozed through their laughter , and confidence oozed in their posture. These older women were such good role models for the younger ones. They have developed into a strong network of people living with AIDS. They knew each others stories and challenges - they supported, showed compassion and laughed together. It never ceases to amaze me what miracles can happen when we work together in supportive and caring ways!! I have no doubts that with the continued support of their medicinal gardens and the care of Pastor Manteiga, these women will beat whatever comes their way!

I asked them a simple question, "What would you imagine your life would be like today if you had not become involved in the Medi-Plantas project?" Almost with one breath and one voice, most responded "Morda - Dead!" There was no follow-up question on my lips as I fought back tears. The outspoken women quickly began to explain their particular circumstances that led to that statement. I do not remember those explanations - I only remember the profoundness of the collective truth of their living. It was in this moment I experienced Christ the healer very present - embodied in the total dedication of Pastor Manteiga and given further life in these women who squarely faced the world and its challenges. Both are healers.

Before I knew it, we were piling into the truck once again - it seemed that some of the women wanted to show us where they lived and how well their medicinal and nutritional crops were doing. Their excitement was palpable!! After a short drive from the clinic and down a narrow lane way, we pulled in as far as we could with the truck and then walked to the first woman's house. Her family - mother and children - were certainly somewhat curious about our group. First she showed us the medicinal plants that grew next to her house. We walked a little further into the wonderful garden full of vegetables. What delight she had to show us how her newly planted beans had sprouted and we beginning to grow. Her friend seemed to be just as proud of her garden. This magnificent mountain outcrop seemed to provide the perfect backdrop to the strength of these 2 women - what beauty to behold in the rock and their spirits!

Back into the truck, little ways back and then off onto another lane way. Drive as far as a 4 wheel truck can take you, get out and walk again through a maze of pathways. About 20 minutes later we arrived at the second woman's house. It was suffering from water damage, something that happens a great deal when the homeowner cannot afford either the plastic lining under the thatch rook or a galvanized steel roof. Yet beside her broken home, the garden is tended well and her medicinal plants yielded in abundance.

Most villagers cannot afford either the plastic or certainly the steel roof, so the cycle of building, wash-outs and rebuilding happens with regularity. Most often living on their own, HIV women have few options to fix their homes. In fact, providing adequate roofing was seen by Pastor Manteiga as one of the greatest needs in the provision of care to the HIV/AIDS people. He talked about his dream to have a partnership develop between the infected individual, their family, the local church, CCM and global partners - the basic house would be constructed by the local people but the precious steel roof would come from the CCM/global partners. Providing this kind of secure housing is a basic human need and right. Pastor Bene affirmed this direction but noted how the local churches need the leadership to develop outreach ministry of this kind. The small village churches mostly exist as pastoral and worship centres. Community based ministry has not yet been intentionally developed as a living out of faith. To begin such a process within a partnership of this kind would enlargen the role of the church and increase the security of the people.

On our 20 minute walk back to where we left the truck I was imagining what this journey would have been like when she was first sick and having to get out to the clinic in order to go to the hospital for blood work and prescription for the anti-viral drug. And now, with baby on her back as all African women do, and a hoe in her hand, she laboured in her field keeping herself and her baby alive! I breathed a quiet thanks for the part that people back in Canada have played in bringing hope into this real life drama through their Mission and Service offering.

On our third stop we visited a man who had just started growing tobacco as a way to make a small income. His medicinal and nutritional gardens again were well attended and his house very well built with not only plastic under the thatched roof but also at the foundation level. He is so proud of what he is able to accomplish despite his AIDS. My heart celebrated with him in that moment!

It was such an uplifting time visiting these people and their homes and gardens! But now we needed to really hurry for we were expected by the Bursary Girls for lunch. At the clinic we quickly packed our things in the truck (including my chicken, though I didn't believe them at the time). Karen was concerned about the timing for some of the Bursary Girls would be needing to get to afternoon classes and she knew that they would wait for their lunch until we the guests had arrived.

A relatively short drive from the clinic, was the LAR (dormitory/residence) site for the older Bursary Girls. As mentioned before, the rural schools do not offer higher grades for the students. They have to move to a larger centre like Molumbo to do that, leaving their family and needing money to do that. According to a report written Karen, this LAR started with 12 girls sleeping on a dirt floor in a hut. It was run by a group of local women who call themselves AMER (Portuguese acronym for Women's Association for Rural Education), each contributing whatever small amount each personally can. PEDRA came in and helped organize the parents to help with food and construction of better facilities. The government donated land and the abandoned army barrack where the girls now sleep. PEDRA put in doors and windows.

The parents banded together to fix the roof when it blew loose in a windstorm. They built a dining room / study room with their handmade bricks, an open-walled kitchen, a store-room for food and bicycles, and a reed-and-bamboo fence around the compound to give the girls privacy - all with their volunteer labour and local materials.

Newly united, organized, articulate, the parents with help from CCM then lobbied the district ministry of education, who came to recognize the PEDRA LAR as a magnet for girls' education in the district. They lobbied the local Catholic priests, and now in a formerly empty Catholic schoolroom there are classes to Grade 10.

Despite being late, the girls came running out to greet us with song and dance. This time, there was a speech that was written and delivered about women and all that they are in society. At one point, the young lady who was delivering the speech called for a minute's silence to remember all those women who have died in the struggle. They gave me the speech and I hope to have it translated from Portuguese in order to grasp the fullness of that offering.

Some of the young ladies then took Pastor Bene and myself through their dormitory. Notable were the colourful mosquito nets and the solar lights that hung in the upper reaches of the large rooms. The installation of these lights have made a major difference in the study time available to the girls in the evening.

We were also shown the new latrine that is nearly finished. This two stall latrine is replacing the one you see on the left. This is one way of stabilizing the health issues that can confront the students. The other was the installation of a deeper well to provide clean drinking water. The improved services have made the dormitory life much safer. Construction has started on another building that can serve as additional bedrooms or workspaces. They await further funding to complete this building.



After the tour of this important LAR, we sat down for some lunch. Karen was busy having to get through some administrative work and then it was time to say good-bye and load up in the truck for a very long drive back to Quilimane.

The ride home provided an opportunity for a great deal of nourishing conversation despite the bouncing that increased because of the deteriorated condition of the roads in some areas. There had been substantial local rain in the past days - that rainfall had enlarged potholes and made portions of roads impassable. Once again Jack proved to be a skilled driver, taking us onto side paths if necessary to bypass these challenges. We arrived safely back at Karen and Bill's home. It was only then I a realized that my chicken had indeed come home with us!

Exhausted by the multitude of experiences, stories of hopes and realities, sharing of church life in respective countries, conversations about partnerships and simply by the long ride back, I barely unpacked and went to bed.