I was hungry and you fed me,
I was thirsty and you gave me water,
I was sick and you visited me …
On a hot Saturday afternoon in Malawi during an unscheduled 15-minute stop at a busy local market, I took a bad step. One bad step, taken too quickly, walking down a little hill while turning to look at a beautiful flowering tree. In the horror of that moment I almost lost consciousness. For a moment I didn't know where I was. The impossible hope that it was just a bad sprain quickly vanished as I felt the dead weight of my foot wobbling back and forth, much like a mop dangling at the end of a broomstick. An x-ray in the Mzuzu hospital revealed nasty breaks on both sides of my left ankle, requiring surgery. I had to be airlifted to a hospital in Johannesburg. Since the airstrip in Mzuzu had no landing lights and since it was now late afternoon, arrangements were made for me to stay until the plane arrived the next afternoon.
We were in Malawi on an HIV/AIDS exposure tour with PWS&D, led by Karen Plater. News of the accident spread quickly the next morning in church, and for the remainder of the day I had a steady stream of Malawian visitors. Early in the morning, a minister walking to his church service heard of the mishap and made a detour to come and pray with me — a beautiful prayer for my health and healing and also for my family at home.
When church was over, others started coming — the moderator and the general secretary of the synod, clergy and others who work for the synod caring for the sick and the poor. One by one, they expressed their sympathy. “I am so sorry, I am so sorry.”
Esther and Grace (see article by Michelle Miller), sitting on the concrete floor at the foot of my bed, would not leave until they knew I was safely on my way to Johannesburg. They are strong, courageous women of faith — both work for the synod caring tirelessly for people affected by HIV and AIDS. Now they were caring for me. If only they had known about the accident sooner, they said, the room would have been full of people singing for me because “that is what we do in Africa.”
I was given communion by two elderly clergy — a man and a woman — while a group of young people sang softly in the most exquisite African harmonies. The only word I recognized was Jesu, and I wept softly as I realized how incredibly blessed I was to be experiencing God's grace in this way.
“Africa will be a blessing.” These had been the parting words of Richard Fee as I was leaving for Africa. And it was a blessing, but in ways I never expected.
Especially, I was blessed by the people of Malawi — the named and the unnamed. The same people who minister to the hungry, the thirsty, the sick on a daily basis and with persistent faith, ministered to me in the name of Christ. In a profound and moving way, I became the “one” in need, the person at the centre of the story. In this I am humbled and blessed.
As the plane soared higher into the sky I peered out the window and saw many arms waving farewell. This vision will remain with me for the rest of my life. It is my African blessing.
