Thursday, December 8, 2016

Masina*


The road has the appearance
Of velvet ribbon,
But feels like a washboard.
In the distance only fires
For cooking, for warmth.
Wind smells of smoke and grass
Stars like pinpricks overhead,
Not enough to compensate 
For the absent moon.
The night is ink 
Spilled across the dusty land.
Nighttime envelopes Madagascar.
His presence is here.

*The Malagasy word for “holy"


ONE


A single tree stands on the plain
Alone
Shaped by the wind
Isolated
But not forlorn
It feels the rhythm of the earth
Belonging to creation
One


                                                                           Southern Madagascar 2015

Scratching in the Dirt

Reflections from Madagascar
(Reposted from July 2013)

After a very full weekend, we headed up the coast for a short stay and some much needed refreshment in the coastal village of Ifaty.  We took advantage of some tourist opportunities including a morning of whale watching and an afternoon zebu cart ride through a baobab forest.  We arrived back in Toliara this afternoon having thoroughly enjoyed our little side trip.

Upon our return, I headed out to visit some struggling families in the neighboring village.  My guide was an American missionary named Linda who works predominantly with women who have experienced trauma in their lives.  She works with prostitutes, abused wives, child brides, victims of trafficking... the list goes on and on.  Linda just jumps right into any situation and truly loves these women and their families.  It was amazing to watch her work.

After our brief respite at the beach, it was a little jarring to go right back into the abject poverty that exists in the village.  One of our first stops was a home where a young woman lived who was struggling with a troubled marriage and very little food with which to feed her family.  She had been a child bride, although she is now 18.  She sat in the dirt in front of her home with her young child, her husband and another male family member.  

Linda asked how she was doing, and the young woman expressed concern about a health condition with which she and her little girl were struggling.  Linda indicated that she would stop by tomorrow to bring both of them to a local clinic.  The young woman agreed, but as I watched her face, I couldn't help but think that I had never seen someone whose face looked so utterly hopeless.  There was no life in her eyes.  I can't imagine having lost all hope by the age of 18, but sadly, this is the reality for many young Malagasy women.  

We offered to pray for this woman and her family and then all sat down in the dirt and held hands.   As we prayed, a cute little chick hopped into the center of our circle.  It stayed there, scratching in the dirt, trying to find something, anything, to eat.  I watched the chick and thought about how this little bird's existence was not unlike so many Malagasy families -- scratching in the dirt just to survive.

Poverty is so widespread in Madagascar that it is hard to wrap your head around.  Human beings, created in the image of a loving God, should not have to scratch in the dirt to survive.  And yet, for many of these families, there is no other way of life.  

As we leave Toliara tomorrow to begin our three day journey home, I am left with a mixture of emotions.   This year I believe I have gained a greater understanding of Malagasy life, but it has left me increasingly overwhelmed by the desperate needs of these people.  The poverty is huge, but I have to keep reminding myself that God is bigger.  He is the one who "raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap." (1Samuel 2:8)  This is literally the need of so many Malagasy, and it has become the cry of my heart.