Guess Who Made it Home Safe?

Just to let everyone know, I made it back to the States safely. I will post more when I return to Kansas City. I have posts about my last days in Mozambique and I will post them soon. I just had a minute to post a quick update and wanted everyone to know that I made it back to the U.S. of A.

Also, my phone was stolen as I went through a security checkpoint in Johannesburg, South Africa. If I haven't been able to call you as I promised that I would, then I sincerely appologize. I bought a new phone yesterday and was able to keep my same phone number. Give me a call if you care to chat. More to come soon, please continue to check back for more updates.

Reflection on Departure

As we sat at the restaurant table waiting for breakfast, and the missionary kids sang their new favorite song, Shout to the Devil, from their newly acquired Guitar Hero II video game, I laughed out loud, but was reflecting about the last two months of my life in my head. I feel that I had grown very close to the Boersma Family in a relatively short amount of time. We had accomplished many things together while they graciously allowed me to stay in their home in Matola, Mozambique. It was now coming to an end, but I knew that I would be returning to continue to build the relationships that I had started while in Africa.
Boersma Family Portrait

As a family, we decided that a good way to spend my last few days in Africa would be to travel together with the children by car to South Africa, where I would eventually catch a plane back to The States. We have had many great meals together. We visited beautiful canyons, valleys, waterfalls, and a place called the potholes. We also spent time at the local shopping mall.

Last night we had another Brai (South African BBQ), which is a huge part of South African culture. Everyone sits around the fire, and the host cooks tons of lamb, sausage and steaks. I quickly found out that hotdogs and hamburgers were considered tacky and not acceptable when hosting guests. It was a good time to sit around and enjoy the company of so many people that have become a part of my life here in Africa.

This morning, I woke to the sound of monkeys running across the roof of the room that I am staying in South Africa. I got up to look out the window and there was three monkeys were sitting in the tree just outside my window. One was trying to get at the window, to make himself a guest in my room. It made me smile, thinking about how amazing it would be to have wild monkeys wake me up at my house in Kansas City. The neighbors probably would have a problem with my wild monkeys; so I just sat on my bed and watched them torment the little dogs that live on the property where I am staying.

I am planning on trying to convince Pieter to conquer his fears of snakes, and take me to a snake park this morning. The park has some of the most deadly snakes in the world and all of their snakes can be found in the area that I am currently staying. I think that it would be a neat “field trip” for the three home-schooled boys.

I leave this Afternoon, where I fly out of Nelspruit’s small airport to Johannesburg. I have a short layover in Johannesburg and then fly to Madrid, Spain. In Spain, I spend seven hours in the airport and then board a plane headed for JFK Airport in New York City. When I reach New York, I will take the subway to Penn Station and then buy a train ticket to Philadelphia where I plan to spend a week with Brandon and Sarah Fazel and their new baby!

I plan to post more pictures and other content about my trip to Africa, so please continue to check up on my blogspot in the next coming weeks, for more about my experiences.

Thelma Came Home

On Monday morning, we received a call from Social Welfare that Thelma, the new baby girl at the house, was finally ready to come home from the Maputo Central Hospital. She has spent the last few weeks in the Malnourishment Ward, receiving treatment. I was excited to know that she would join the other babies at the house before I left to go back home.

When I came in the house from running errands to the Water Company, I saw her hold out her arms for me to hold her. She was precious and looked so much healthier, since the first time I had visited her at the hospital. She was still very small, but it was obvious that she had made much improvement.

As we sized her for new clothes, it was realized that even though she was 3-4 years old, clothes that were made for 0-6 month infants were what fit her body the best. She is eating well, slept through the night, and it seems that she feels right at home at the baby house, where she has eight new brothers and sisters.

Idrussi’s Home Visit

When he left the small village of Camp 2000, he was weak, sick, and almost ready to breathe his last breath. His grandmother was sure that she had sent him away to be a part of a child trafficking scheme. She was positive that she would never see her Grandchild Idrussi again.

As we walked through the reasonably new village of Camp 2000, which had been established as a refugee camp for victims of the Mozambique floods of 2000, I wasn’t sure that we were going to be able to find Idrussi’s family. I wasn’t even sure that his grandmother still lived in the village or if she was even still alive. We had traveled by chappa and an old bus for 4 ½ hours and were now walking to a church in the village, where we were told the pastor’s wife could help us track down the family.

As we sat down in the shade that was provided on the side of the simple cement church building, the young lady that had presented herself as the wife of the pastor told us that she would go and find her friend that had brought Idrussi to her over a year ago. As we sat and waited Idrussi shoveled chocolate biscuits into his mouth, and managed to get some of the chocolate on the pants of my traveling companion Luis.

With sounds of children playing under a nearby tree in our ears, the lady returned with a lady named Mary that said she knew where the family lived, we were in luck, but there was a catch. Mary said that it was at least two-hour walk from the church. As I looked up at the sun, which was now high in the sky, I thought through our next step and looked at my watch. We had left the baby house at just after 7:00am, and it was now just after 1:00pm. Two hours from now it would be 3:00pm, plus the two-hour walk back to catch a 4 ½ hour bus ride. I wasn’t sure how late all of the buses ran, and I knew that one of my teammates had plane to catch in the morning. I was also not sure how much I wanted to entertain the idea of spending the night out in this village with Idrussi, who only had a short supply of diapers.

We all looked at each other for a few minutes and finally decided that we needed to continue on in our journey. We walked through deep sand right behind our recently acquired guide Mary. After only walking for a little over an hour, she realized that we had already arrived in the area of the family’s house. This was good news for us because the sun starts to set at 4:30 in the afternoon and traveling in the dark isn’t a good idea in Mozambique.

After asking a local lady from the village about the family’s whereabouts, we walked toward a small grass hut with a man and woman sitting on a grass mat in the shade of a nearby tree. Mary spoke in the native language of Shangon and as the lady rose from the grass mat she started to weep. With tears rolling down her cheeks she approached us, and this is when I realized that this was Idrussi’s Grandmother.

When she handed Idrussi over to Mary over a year ago, she didn’t expect to ever see the little boy again. Now he had returned to her with a Buddha-like belly and a huge smile on his face. He was happy, healthy, and now taking medicine that was helping his body to fight his battle with AIDS. I handed Idrussi over to her, and she hugged and held him tightly against her chest. She repeated, “Obrigato,” which is “Thank you” in Portuguese. Soon all of the small houses in the village had emptied and the people were standing in a circle around Idrussi, as if to witness a triumphant kings return to his village.

I stood by and just tried to take in this entire spectacle. Soon Idrussi’s Aunt was there at the house, along with an Uncle, and other family members. As they enjoyed holding and playing with him, I soon realized that the children of the village had never seen a camera. I started taking pictures of the kids around me, and then showing them their own faces on my cameras screen. The children loved it, but the excitement soon spread to a few of the mothers that were nearby and they also requested that I take their picture, with babies in their arms, so that they could see.
Idrussi and Family
As the sun started to set in sky, I realized that our visit needed to come to an end. The village said their goodbyes to each of us with a kiss on both of our checks, and we were on our way home. The adventure does not, however, stop on our arrival at a nearby paved road.

Standing at the edge of the pothole-filled blacktop, I realized that we were standing at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. A few small chappas came by within the next 45 minutes, but they were all full without room for the four of my traveling companions. I thought to myself of how I had always wanted to hitchhike, and how it would make a good story to say that I hitchhiked in Africa, and without hesitation, or asking the people that were traveling with me, I walk out onto the pavement and put my thumb up. I had a ride in less than a minute and Amy was screaming, “What are you doing?”

With a casual reply I said, “Getting us a ride, come on. I always wanted to hitchhike, and what better place, but in Africa!”

I climbed in the back of the old pickup with Luis and Idrussi, and let Amy and Pedro ride in the cab with our new friend Felix, the driver. He drove very fast and took us into a nearby town where it was much easier for us to get a chappa home.

This home visit, although longer and more exhausting than any of the others was the most rewarding. I feel so fortunate to be able to be in Africa and be a part of reuniting families, giving them hope, and showing that their baby’s future is no longer hanging in the balance, but now shows great promise. This was my last home visit that I will be able to facilitate while I am here for this summer visit, but I also now know that I will return to Mozambique during my future summers and continue to work alongside of these people that are making such a difference in the lives of the family of this country that has won over my heart.

Richardo’s Home Visit

As we set out this morning, I had a different team of people traveling with me. There is a new lady that we are trying to get involved with some of the community work at the baby house. Leonora is pretty good at English and this was her first outing for the baby house.

We left the house at around 9:30 in the morning and road the chappa to the Benefica Market. When we arrived, we phone Richardo’s father and he was on his way to meet us at the gas station that was near to where to our location. It was a pleasant surprise that he was coming to meet us and that we wouldn’t have to search to find his home.

We stood and waited for about 15 minutes and I finally saw his father’s familiar face from his visit to the baby house the previous week. He was so excited to see Richardo, and as I handed the little boy over to him it was neat to see them both excited to see each other again. Richardo looks just like his father, and as I followed his dad, we walked toward a larger bus that would carry us closer to his home.

The bus ride was long and I stood smashed between many people most of the journey. When we arrived, I immediately realized that we were in the same neighborhood as last Friday on the visit to Marcelino’s family. The walk was much shorter this trip and we arrived at his little grass hut in no time.

We sat and chatted for about an hour, he showed us pictures of Richardo’s father who died of AIDS shortly after Richardo’s birth. She was a beautiful woman and it was neat to hear her husband talk so fondly about his former wife. After our visit, he took us to the front yard and dug up some roots of a plant to take home. As he was digging up the roots, two ladies came by the house that were friends of Richardo’s mother. It was neat to let them see how well he was doing. The visit went well and it was great to take Richardo for the first time to his father’s house.

Need for a Cure

My adventure for the day, took me back to Maputo’s Central Hospital. Today’s trip was not to the malnourishment unit, but to a building that is for blood tests and AIDS patients. Baby Luis, one of the AIDS babies at the baby house, had an appointment for more blood test.

As we walked across the now familiar hospital campus, we approached a building that I had not been into yet. We climbed the stairs, with Baby Luis in my arms, and arrived at a double door with a guard posted checking paperwork of all who entered. We quickly showed the guard Luis’ appointment papers, and he handed us a small piece of paper with the number 101 handwritten in blue pen on it. We walked past a front desk where I quickly showed the nurse behind the desk our number and she directed us silently with a point of a finger toward a hallway.

As I walked on with Baby Luis’ head resting on my shoulder, I entered a hallway that was full of people standing shoulder to shoulder. I worked my way down the hall bumping into many people, some very young faces, many old faces, men, women, children, and newborn infants, as I tried to make my way to the waiting area. As I approached the end of the hallway, I realized that the waiting area had spilt out into the hall way because the hospital was already so busy at 8:45 in the morning. The number that was handed to us when entering through the double doors was our number in line to wait for a blood test.

I stood there with two-year-old Baby Luis resting against my chest, and watched many people come out of multiple hospital rooms. It wasn’t that the hospital didn’t have enough doctors on staff, because I would guess that there were at least 12 doctors calling in people one after another into the little room where they took two small vials of blood from each visitor’s body. There were just so many people in that small room, and it is like that all day long at this hospital on every day that the hospitals doors are open.

I have always heard about the “AIDS Epidemic” and seen people with t-shirts supporting Race for a Cure and things of that nature, but until today I was unable to really comprehend the numbers and statistics that we, as Americans, throw around so nonchalantly. Today, I witnessed the face of AIDS, and they were all beautiful. Every single person in that long hallway and waiting room was beautiful in their own unique way, and they will all eventually die of a disease that does not yet have a cure. The little boy in my arms, that I have grown to love over that last 43 days, will eventually pass away from this disease that we, as a society, have not figured out how to conquer.

My experience, of simply waiting in that hospital waiting room and having a chance to work with the children at the baby house, has drastically changed my outlook on people who are living with AIDS. I realize the urgency of the need for a cure for this disease that will eventually take the lives of many of the people that I have had the chance to meet this summer.

The Sweet Serenity of the Ocean

For the last few days there has been a team of people from South Africa at the baby house. Before they headed home today, they decided that a trip to the beach was needed. It would have been rude of me to try and talk them out of doing such an awful task, so with a little twisting of my arm I decided that I would accompany them on their journey. Really, I was extremely excited that I had the opportunity to go with them because I had said before leaving for Africa that I would like to have the chance to swim in the Indian Ocean.

We loaded up into their 4x4 Toyota Pick-up, and headed out of the gate of the property. I was seated in the bed of the pickup along with a few other that had also been “persuaded” to attend this outing. I love riding in the back of pickups in Africa, it seems to make any trip into the community more rich and more of an experience. I can see more, hear the sounds better, and interact with the people walking along the streets easier.

It was a bit chilly winter morning, so I pulled the hood of my jacket up and kept to myself the majority of the ride there. I had a really relaxing time with the wind blowing on my face and through my goatee. Many people were already out and on their way to church in their Sunday best. I was quite fascinated the first time I saw an African man step out of his grass hut in a three piece suit, but have now come to expect it on Sunday mornings.

As we approached our first stop, I saw water and palm trees and thought that we had arrived at the ocean. I will admit that I was disappointed at what I was seeing. It looked really dirty, smelled of diesel fuel, and dead fish. As we got closer to the water, I noticed that there was a ferry that was going to take us across the water where we would continue toward the beach on the other side.

The ferry didn’t appear to be very safe, but since my mom reads what I write on this website, I will state that it was the safest water vessel this side of the equator. As vehicles load onto the boat, it dropped lower and lower into the water. We climbed on, and I am sure that more than just a few prayers were silently shouted to the heavens in hopes that we would not sink to the bottom of this muddy river.

We arrived on the other side and continued on our way to the beach. I was again surprised as we drove down this dirt road and we were greeted by herds of cattle crossing the road. There were no fences to hold them in, and these big bulls wandered lazily across the road in front and behind our truck. After passing many children and a few older men begging along side the road, we arrived at the beach.

We climbed the hill and passed many cabana style cabins, passed through a large gathering of trees and stepped out on to the white sand of the beach. It was beautiful and there were probably only two other families that were on this endless beach that spanned the coast as far as my eyes could see. I have a hard time putting into words how peaceful the next few hours of my life were. The sound of the waves hitting the beach, and having the chance to walk down the coast without anyone else around was amazing. The water was surprisingly warm and the sun felt wonderful as it came down to wrap it warm rays around my body.

Honestly, I have never really been attracted to spending great amounts of time on the beach. Maybe it is my extremely rock-hard chiseled physique, but I have always thought that the mountains were a better choice when put up against each other. After today though, my opinion has been swayed. Although I still love my mountain views and cold weather, I now understand those people who travel to the coast and layout worshiping the sun as the waves lap at their feet. It was a great day of relaxation, and I can again say it is great to be in Africa!

Marcelino’s Home Visit

Marcelino sat at the breakfast table in his best clothes, eating an early breakfast, so that we could leave the house by 8:00 this morning. At the sight of his new outfit he knew that he was on his way somewhere special and was going to have the chance to leave the baby house. This always seems to make the kids happy.

We loaded on to a chappa and headed away from the city, a place that I hadn’t been, we then switched to another bus that took us even farther from the city of Maputo. It was quite a bus trip with Marcelino on my lap and squished into the chappa. He seems to get very quiet and subdued whenever he is taken out.

We walked a short distance through a small village to find Marcelino’s uncle. As he greeted us, I could smell urine on his clothes, and large amounts of alcohol on his breath. He accompanied us, and actually led the way to the house where the father of Marcelino lives.

We climbed on yet another chappa and traveled to another village that was quite a distance from where we started. As we climbed off of the bus, Luis quickly pointed out that we were across the street from Iris Ministries (the orphanage that he spent much of his childhood living in). This is where our walk of great proportions began. We walked and walk and walked. We easily walked six miles through deep sand and carried Marcelino most of that distance. The area was beautiful farmland, but the sand made the walk hard work.

Standing in the middle of stereotypical African savannah with just a few small grass huts surrounding us, I realized that Marcelino’s uncle had no idea where his brother lived. We wandered and almost everyone that crossed our path if they knew Marcelino’s father, but no one recognized his name or knew the family. I was pretty sure that we were lost, but I had one of my favorite children in the world resting in my arms, so we decided to play. I put him down on the sandy path and we chased each other around, while he shouted at all of us. Marcelino’s uncle and Luis continued to ask people and we finally decided to just head down this path with no direction. I really didn’t have much say in the matter because of the language barrier, so I just continued to follow.

After about 15 more minutes of walking, we asked a man wearing a stocking hat in the African heat if he knew the family. I was astonished when his face showed that he was happy to be able to help and led us to the family’s house.

As we approached the gate, I noticed that their grass hut and plot of land was surrounded with bushes with very large thorns on them. I put Marcelino on the ground, straightened his shirt and pants, and he grabbed my hand as we walked through the gate. His family sat on grass mats in the sun. His father’s new wife was cutting vegetables and looked up at us with a smile as we approached where she was sitting.

A little boy sitting next to her with a pot of old cooked rice sitting between his legs looked up and spoke in Shangon. It was obvious that he was excited from the tone of his voice, but I had to ask Luis what the little boy was saying as he looked and spoke to Marcelino. Luis told me that he had said, “My brother, my brother, I have a brother!” Marcelino walked over and sat down next to the boy, who we later found out is named Michael, and sat down and grabbed his hand to hold. It was precious to see these two brothers reunite.

Chickens roamed around our feet as some of us stood and watched the family marvel at how Marcelino had grown and how healthy he looked. We were told that Marcelino's father was working at the market, wandering through the narrow booths selling small items (we went to the market after leaving the house, but did not have success at finding the father).

As we said our goodbyes and headed back on our long walk to the main road, I couldn’t help but think about how much of a difference the baby house has made in Marcelino’s life. Walking with him in my arms, I continued to think about what his life would look like if he lived out with this family in their very humble grass hut. Without running water, with no guarantee of a next meal, without a daily bath or clothes to wear. I am so glad that I am able to partner with a group of people that is making such a major difference in the lives of children. I see the eight former orphans at the baby house as some of the luckiest children in this entire country of Mozambique. They will have a promising future because of what is being done to fight for their social justice.

New Adventures to Come

As my stay here in Mozambique is quickly coming to an end (only 17 days left) and things are winding down, I was pleasantly surprised at breakfast this morning. As we were standing around the kitchen and Pieter was cooking an egg, he casually informed me that he would like me to take each of the babies on a visit to their family’s home before I leave the country.

I am extremely excited about the chance to adventure out into the smaller surrounding villages to seek out the families of the children here at the house. I'm sure that each will have a story that needs to be heard. I will keep you posted on my adventures as they happen. This will be a good way to spend my remaining time here at the baby house.

Life Without Water

As I sat in the back of a pickup truck, I could feel the wind blowing through my facial hair, I was on my way to change the lives of an African family. I sat and found myself wondering if I could even imagine living my entire life without running water in my house.

This is the case of my seventy-five year old friend Jacobi. His entire life has never included a water faucet in his residence. The tedious chore of carrying water in buckets has been a part of his every day routine since he was born in 1932.

To have to chance to lighten the burden as Jacobi and Mary raise their five grandchildren is a pleasure. I feel so fortunate to be able to be here in Mozambique and to be a part of something so simple, but yet is so appreciated.

We pulled into the small market area of grass huts that appeared to sell mostly hardware materials. As I climbed out of the back of the truck, a man greeted me ready to sell me anything and everything, and yes he even had a kitchen sink. I knew exactly what I was after, a water spigot, some pipe fittings, and 30 meters of rubber hose.

Nine hundred twenty Metical (about $35.00) later, we were loaded and on our way through the dirt roads to the grandparent’s house. We arrived and just a few hours later the trench had been dug, the pipe had been installed, cement mixed and laid, and the project was complete.

All we need to do now is have the water company install the water meter, and connect our pipe work to the main water line. I am hopefully that this will be a quick process and they will be out to the house by the end of the week.

(click picture for larger image)

A New Baby in the House

When Luis and I were at the Social Welfare office last week, working on Aninha’s passport, we were told that they had an abandon baby that was in desperate need of a home. While I was in South Africa, Pieter and Rika decided that we would take the little girl in at the baby house.

Yesterday, I had the chance to go and visit the little girl at the central hospital. As I walked up the many flights of stairs of the Malnourishment Ward of the hospital, I was somewhat nervous about what I might see when I entered the room of children. Skin and Bones. The little room had six children lying in five beds and all of them had an IV-like valve in their arm or in their neck.

The little girl sat there with bones exposed through her skin, but she is beautiful. Her name is Thelma. We are not exactly sure when she will be able to come home with us, but our guesses are some time this next week. Pieter said that they probably would have sent her home with us yesterday, but she had diarrhea, which sat her back in her process of being re-hydrated.

As we sat there in the hospital room, I wanted to pick her up, hold her, and love her, but she looked so fragile that I was afraid to make an attempt. Brittany was the brave soul that finally made the attempt to pick her up. As she approached the bed with her hands held out to pick Thelma up from the bed, Thelma’s arms raised up to show that she longed to be held and loved.
It is exciting to be able to see a new life that is going to be changed and touched by the work that is done by the baby house. I am so glad that I am able to be a part of what is happening here in Mozambique.


Checkout the new All Nations Mozambique website @ www.allnationsmozambique.com. Pieter and I have been working to get a website up and running for the baby house, so that people can have a more regular update of what is happening in Mozambique.

Hippo Sighting!!!

Although this blog isn’t truly about finding a hippo in the wild, I would hate to disappoint anyone who has been following along with great hopes that hippos would be abundant on my journey through Africa. For those viewers, I have good news.

After my trip to South Africa these last few days, I have seen a plethora of hippos frolicking in the sunlight. Okay, so hippos do not have the ability to do any sort of frolicking, but God was good on my journey through Kruger National Park and blessed my visit with so many hippos that I was unable to keep count. Here are a few pictures of my hippo sightings.



I was also able to see many other animals while driving through the park. The trip to the national park was a blast and I am so glad that I had the opportunity to visit. Here are a few pictures from my journey:










Returning to the baby house was good. Marcelino ran up to me when I walked into the gate and demanded that I pick him up. He was in my arms or at my side for most of the evening. When it was time for his bath and bed, he threw a temper tantrum that he was unable to stay with me. I had a realization through this that he had connected with me as much as I had with him, and he liked me as much as I cared about him. I think that this is going to make it harder for me to leave Mozambique as my departure date nears.

My evening at the baby house also included new friends. Pieter and Rika have good friends from Cape Town that are visiting, and we have a new addition to the team at the house. Brittany, a girl from our church back home, made it to Maputo from Kansas City. There is another girl named Amy from Washington that is flying in tonight at around 9:00. It is really nice to have new faces and help around the house, and I am sure that we will all become great friends.