You want to do what???

This past week I got a call from a woman whom I could barely hear and who said she wanted to come see me about some children.  It seemed that she had children in her care whom she wanted help with, but I told her that she must go through the Social Welfare Department before coming to Project Canaan. But she pushed, in fact she demanded a meeting with me and her forcefulness was surprising, and seemingly un-Swazi, but because it was so unusual I agreed to meet with her for a short visit on Saturday morning. 

The lady arrived at 10AM sharp, and when I met her at the gate I found a Gogo, two middle-aged women and a man who said we had met before.  He did not look at all familiar and I didn’t know why all four were there.  When they told me who they were, and I felt like I had been hit with a 2” x 4” from the side and didn’t see it coming.

That Gogo was the Mother to the Father of Nomsa’s twin girls (!!).  The man was Nomsa’s Uncle (her mothers’ brother) and then the two women with her were his sisters (I think Nomsa’s Aunt’s, but could be something else as he introduced them as his sisters not Nomsa’s Aunts).  They had come for several reasons, which I would not find out until later in the conversation, but they started by thanking me for all the help we had given Nomsa over the past two years. He also danced around the notion of us not attending Nomsa’s burial that there was disagreement as to where she was to be buried, and then there was a pause.  It seemed as though there was more to be said, but standing at the front gate was not where it was to be done. 

We don’t have an office at Project Canaan so, maybe against my better judgment, I took them to the baby home to sit out back under the shade where there is a picnic table.  I sent a cryptic message to Ian to come and join me, and he did.  If he had not, the day may not have ended the way it did.

After a repeat of the conversation at the gate (“thanks” and “sorry”) they dropped the bomb. They were there to find out how to get Leah and Rachel and take them back to the family.

What??

The Gogo (again, for emphasis, she is the Mother of the FATHER of the babies) wanted the girls and had come to claim them.  I asked where the father was and they said he was working. I reminded them that he had never laid eyes on his twins and I asked (as politely and graciously as I possibly could) why the family didn’t want to help the twins when they were dying of hunger and malnutrition on a mud floor while their mother lay dying beside them of MDR-TB?  None of the Father's family had every seen or met the twins and none had gone to visit Nomsa in the hospital. Why would they want to now come and take the babies in to their home?? They started to give an explanation of how sometimes children don’t share with their family what is really going on, they tried to say that they really didn’t know about the twins until recently and that they were ready to take the girls home.

I remember after Nomsa died and I was pleading with a Social Welfare officer to help explain to the family that she wanted to be buried at Project Canaan. The Officer said to me, “Janine, the problem with us Swazi’s is that no one cares about you when you are alive, but they fight over your body when you are dead.”

Yes, that is a direct quote. 

While my brain was madly trying to process what was being said to me, and my mouth was trying to stay closed so that I would not say anything that was inappropriate, offensive or that I would regret later.  Ian jumped in and was my knight in shining armor.  He gently explained how this home is under the Deputy Prime Ministers (DPM) office and how it is run. He explained that all of the children who we are for are placed with us through the DPM’s office and we are under their authority. Court orders are given for each child and if they wanted to appeal the court order they would need to do that before the girls would leave.

He then offered to take them through the baby home (where we have 39 babies with a capacity of 40), then on to the toddler home where they could not even identify which children had belonged to Nomsa (because they had never met them!) and then on to the preschool where the girls would learn to read and write.

Ian then offered to take them to Nomsa’s House where she lived up until the last 4 days of her life.  He opened the room, which I have not been in since she passed away, and showed them the large “Welcome Home” sign that was still on the wall with the hand and foot prints of her twin girls. 

All four of them walked out of the home shaking their heads. I was not sure how to interpret that. 

We moved on to show them the new Kindergarten that is being assembled/set up by our WLA friends from the US Bank today, and they were greeted by everyone who was preparing that incredible place of learning for Leah and Rachel, and all their brothers and sisters. 

And then we took them to the cemetery, where Nomsa is honored with a beautiful stone carving in memory of a beautiful African woman.  They stood in silence. Maybe they saw that Nomsa was loved?  Maybe they saw that she truly was our daughter, our sister and our friend? Maybe they were overwhelmed with all that they saw?   There was silence, and then they started to sing a song, which said, “We give you all the glory.  We worship you our Lord, you are worthy to be praised.”

All four of our visitors wept.  They walked slowly to their cars and then hugged us, thanked us and prayed the Lord’s blessing over us, then left.

My prayer is that I can honor my promise to Nomsa and raise Leah and Rachel to the very best of my ability in the safety of Project Canaan. After we went back to the house and had a complete meltdown at the thought of losing those beautiful twins, Ian reminded me that they are His children, not mine, and that I must trust Him in all things.  That is not always easy, but it was a timely reminder from my best friend, and husband of 23 years tomorrow, October 5^th.  Happy Anniversary Ian, and thank you.

Live from Swaziland … trusting.

Janine

Dear Nomsa - things that needed to be said.

It’s strange how we want say things to people after they are gone that we couldn’t say to them when they were alive.  I am writing this letter to you, knowing that you will never read it, but knowing that there are things that still need to be said. 

I don’t have the courage to read the letter outloud so I have asked Ian to do it for me.  I hardly had enough courage to write it, but it needed to be written, for me, for Rachel and Leah and for the world.

I have never met anyone like you in my life. I have met people with courage and determination, but you were different. 

If you hadn’t gone and welcomed each new patient who arrived at the TB hospital and sat with them to get to know them, Baby Rahab would be dead today.  What kind of sick and dying person goes from bed to bed of other sick and dying people to encourage them and read scripture to them?  You are the only one that I know of.  I remember the night that Babazile died.  You sat with her until her last breath and then called me in the middle of the night to tell me she had passed.  We cried together.

If it weren’t for your direct intervention, Sepensile would be dead and so would her baby. But it was not okay with you that she was going to die in child birth at the TB Hospital and you made sure that I understood because you knew it woudn’t be okay with me either.  Only because of you, Baby Abigail is with us at the El Roi Baby Home and Sepensile is alive.  

I remember you asking me to bring English bibles for all of the women there and one in siSwati for the lady who couldn’t read English.  Why did you want them? So that you could have a bible study, with a room full of highly infectious women who had no visitors and very little hope for their future.  But you believed that Jesus was their hope, and you were going to make sure they knew that.

I remember you telling me recently that 70% of all the women you met at the TB Hospital had died.  You watched each of them, heard their screams during their night terrors, saw them fall and break bones, smelled them when all human dignity was lost and wept with them when they begged to go and die at home.

I also remember you asking me to bring you goodies.

“What kind of goodies?” I would ask. And you would just giggle and say, “You know what kind of goodies I like. You are my mother.”

Of course if I showed up with the wrong flavor of Oros juice, or if I forgot your Sprite or if the store didn’t have any pork ribs when I was shopping, I was scolded for my inadequacy.  And then we both laughed.

But here is the real truth. I did not like visiting you.  There, I’ve said it.  Not so that you could hear it, but I have spoken the truth.  I was committed to going and seeing you every week that I was in Swaziland, but I hated it.  I hated walking in and seeing women who were skin and bone lifting up their hospital gown to get a needle in their fatless hip.  I hated seeing the dozens of pills sitting beside the unidentifiable food that was required eating so that the pills might be absorbed.  I hated hearing the screams of pain of Sepensile after she fell and broke her femur in two (and her shoulder blade) knowing that Aspirin was the only pain killer available and no other hospital would take her for surgery because of her MDR-TB.   

I hated seeing your weight go down every week and I especially hated the days that I got there and you were having seizures, were not conscious and didn’t know I was there. That happened on your 26^th birthday when Ian and I went to see you. Actually it was the day after your birthday, because I couldn't make it there on February 20^th.  Too bad I hadn’t though because you were okay on that day, but the day after you were not. We left your favorite meat pizza for you, but I think you Isolation roommate may have enjoyed it.

Worst of all, though, was having to leave you there.  I hated going to visit because I hated leaving.  I grew to truly love you, even though I didn’t want to.  At times I was angry at God that He had brought us together because it caused me so much pain to go week after week, and afterall, why should I be feeling this pain?  You are not my biological child.   But our heavenly Father was teaching me.  You are a child of God, and He is the one who told me that you were the daughter of the King, and I must go and stand by your side. 

But there was another part of visiting you that I must also share.  When I would take my last breath of uninfected air, put on my N95 certified mask, strap on the protective shield around my heart and step in to Isolation Room #1 see you, your smile would light up the room, even when you were the most sick.  When I asked how you were doing you always said, “I am fine”.  That always made me laugh.

I loved the day in November that you were able to come to Project Canaan and get a tour in the back of a broken down bakkie with Lori Marschall at your side while I drove.   I loved that you could go in to Chloe’s room and sign her chalkboard with the message, “Hi Chloe, It’s your big sister. I love your room and I love you SO much!”  I loved that you got to eat your first hamburger at our dining room table and it became your favorite food (after pork ribs of course).  Obviously I didn’t fully understand your infectiousness at that time, but the Lord protected me.  

The day we were able to make a plan to move you to Project Canaan was one of the hardest days of my life.  How could I consider bringing someone with XDR-TB to a place where so many people work and live, not to mention my own family, your own babies, women living with HIV and people who would be exposed to your highly infectious disease.  I was wracked with guilt, but at the same time I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. 

You will never know how many people you impacted in the 52 days that you lived on Project Canaan.  From the women who lived near you, loved you and cared for you to the people who came from the US and Canada and wanted to meet you and tell you that they had been praying for you for many months. You impacted our family at the deepest level and you have left a hole that will never be filled.  Even now I find myself checking my messages to see if I have received an SMS from you, and when there isn’t one, it is then that I remember you are gone… and there is no cellular service in heaven.

I think you knew you were dying they day you called the doctor and asked to go to the hospital.  Your last words to me were, “Janine, even though I am going to the hospital, will you still be my mom?  And will Project Canaan always be my home?” My answer was simply, “Yes.  I will always be your mother and this will always be your home.”  

Thank you Jere for a beautiful message.

Today we remember you with love and admiration and we honor you with our words, our music and our prayers.  We will tell your daughters about your courage, your strength, your feistiness and your faith in a God who never left your side, even to the very end.

Gcebile, I look forward to seeing you again soon.  But for now I mourn your passing.   Matthew 5:4 says, ““Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”  I pray for his comfort for all of us today and in the days ahead.  

You are loved.

_______________________________________________________________

The Swazi singing at the funeral was beautiful. We also played two songs that make me think of Nomsa: 

"Stand" by Donnie McClurkin 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RuMLBhrKHsA

"I look to you" by Whitney Houson

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Pze_mdbOK8

Live from Swaziland ...

Janine

Nomsa addresses the nation ... and her voice is heard.

 

On Wednesday, July 16th we celebrated the Grand Opening of the El Rofi (Hebrew name for "The God who heals) Medical Centre on Project Canaan. We were hononred to welcome the His Majesty King Mswati's wife named Inkhosikati LaMbikiza as well as the Honorable Minister of Health, Minister of Employment and Social Security and many other high ranking officials of the country.  We felt that it was important to have a speech given by someone who is in need of healthcare, not just those providing healthcare, so we asked Nomsa if she would speak.

She was terrified, but she said yes.  And with much help to get the right clothes and hair to make her feel confident she appeared before the crowd.  She was tired and each sentence took a lot of energy to get her breath through her Tuberculosis filled lungs, but she delivered a message that brought everyone in the tent to tears and then they stood to their feet at the end with a standing ovation.  The link to her speech on Youtube is at the bottom of this blog, but it is very hard to hear her, so I have printed her speech below.  Please be sure to read on.

I greet you all in the name of Jesus Christ.  

My name is Gcebile Mabuza (some people know me as Nomsa) and I am a child of God.  I am HIV positive and I have XDR-TB or Extremely Drug Resistant TB. I met Janine on the side of the road on December 13^th, 2012 when I was being taken to the TB hospital in Moneni.  I had given birth to twin girls on November, 19^th and we were all starving to death in my homestead.  The Social Welfare Office made arrangements for my baby girls to go and live at the El Rofi Baby Home here on Project Canaan while I moved in to the National TB Hospital for the next 18 months.  In June of 2014 when my weight was down to 82 pounds Janine and Ian made a room for me here so that I could come and live with dignity as I continued treatment for my conditions.

I was asked to say a few words today at the opening of the El Rofi Medical Centre because of my medical status and because my daughters live here.  I am thereby qualified to speak to healthcare and childcare being provided by the Heart for Africa team.

 

I would like to take this opportunity of the opening of the El Rofi Medical Centre to greet Her Royal Highness, Inkhosikati LaMbikiza and thank you for coming to this important event.  I also humbly ask you to go and visit the National TB Hospital one day soon to encourage the patients who are suffering there and the nurses and Doctors who are serving at their own personal risk to help the people who are sick.  I personally watched 70% of the people die horrible deaths during my time as a patient there and I beg you as our Mother to help get additional care for those who are suffering.

I would like to take to thank the Honorable Minister of Health, Mrs. Simelane, for all that she is doing to help the people of Swaziland who are suffering with HIV, TB and other illnesses that are plaguing our Kingdom. 

I would like to thank the Deputy Prime Minister’s office and Deputy Director Mrs. Maziya for their support of the El Roi Baby Home here on Project Canaan. I believe that my twin girls, Rachel and Leah, sitting over there, would not be alive today if it weren’t for this home for babies in great need. 

Thank you to Nurse Brooke Sleeper and all who have supported the building of the El Rofi Medical Centre so that excellent medical care can be provided to the people of Project Canaan and the children who call this “home”.

Lastly I encourage all of the workers at Project Canaan to know your status.  Be tested for HIV and TB and if you test positive and are put on medication you must adhere to the treatment and commit to safe behavior. 

The greatest photo of this amazing woman.

It is not right that people from other countries must come and look after our children. We Swazi’s should be raising our own children, but because of choices that I was forced to make when I was young, due to the death of my mother and the poverty I was left in, I have had to pass on my duty as “mother” to Janine and the Aunties at the Children’s Campus. 

As I sit here today I give thanks to the Lord for His love and care for my daughters and me. I am praying for a miracle and that El Rofi, “the God who heals”, will heal my body perfectly so that I may one day be able to care for Rachel and Leah as their mother and give them hope in their heavenly Father. Until that day, I give thanks for Project Canaan and all who are serving the Lord here in this place.

Social Welfare officer who placed Nomsa's twin girls with us.

I have been reading the book of Job lately. The book of Job has been giving me strength.  Job’s children died and he was left with nothing, but he sill believed in His Lord.  The devil saw that he was still believing in the Lord.  He was very sick as I am, and I must stay strong as he did.

Thank you.

 

No, thank YOU Nomsa for your courage, your strength and your love.

Live from Swaziland ... she is my hero.

Janine 

Thank you Briana Spohr for recording this video and posting it - 

http://youtu.be/VnEZBzTXE8E,

They had a great life, and then it all changed.

Spencer hold Chloe when she first arrived home.

 

Our kids had a great life, and then it all changed.

One day they lived in a big house in Canada with nice cars, private school, lots of toys, all the Disney movies, and exotic holidays on the beach. The next day it all changed.  Suddenly their parents were focused on saving lives in Africa, downsizing, even moving to the US because they felt that “God wanted them to”.  Sheesh.

She just couldn't keep her eyes open any more.

This was hugely disruptive to their lives, and also transformative.  Schools changed, friends changed, extra curricular activities changed and life changed.  Was it all good?  No.  Was it all bad?  No.  Was it all different?  Yes.

One of my all time favorite photos of Chloe.

Then the decision was made to move to Swaziland, Africa. Another sucker-punch to the stomach.  Spencer would go off to FSU with no “home” to come home to on family holidays and breaks. Chloe would move to Swaziland where she would have to travel THREE HOURS every day to get to and from a school that was not like any school she had ever been to.  That schedule just couldn’t be maintained and then we decided she would go to school in Taichung, Taiwan. Why?  Not because it was close, or easy, but because it is an awesome school and it seemed again that “God wanted her to”. 

Today is Chloe’s 18^th birthday so I am dedicating this blog to her.  I have no words to express how proud I am of both our children and how they have handled the crashing waves that have tried to drowned them,  yet some days it seems that they both know how to walk on water.

Chloe is “home” in Swaziland for her “summer” break (even though it is winter here) and on Monday we will head to Cape Town to celebrate her 18^th birthday.  You see change just make things different, not necessarily bad.  That is what she wanted to do for her 18^th birthday – see Cape Town, visit Robben Island where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years and take a Gondola up Table Mountain.  She would never have thought of that if we were still living in Canada.  She also wants to share her birthday cake today with Nomsa, her friend and sister with XDR-TB who is now in hospice here on our farm.  She wouldn't have known Nomsa if we hadn’t moved here.

His plans are not our plans, and I am eternally grateful for that.  Is this life easy? No.  Do I miss my children?  Desperately.  Do I feel we are all in the center of God’s will?  Absolutely.

With permission, I am posting below a blog that Chloe wrote last year only eight days before she moved to Taiwan (I still struggle even typing that).  I hope you will take a few more minutes to read it.  I promise you it is worth sharing, and I hope you do.

Live from Swaziland … Happy 18^th birthday Chloe!  I love you.

Janine

Sitting in Silence - chloemaxwell.blogspot.com

Have you ever had a moment where you just sat in silence and thought about whatever just happened? What happened a moment ago, a day ago, a week ago, maybe even things from the past year. I've found myself doing that a lot this year and when I did have those moments I’d try to write them down in my journal so that later on in life I could remember what was important to me or what even happened through out 2013.

I look back to May 31^st, 2012 (the day we got on a plane to move to Swaziland), and can read what I was thinking before we moved here. My expectations, fears, hopes, and questions that I had. It’s interesting to look back and see how things have fallen in and out of place as time went on and to just see how God was working. This year was probably the craziest year of my life. Moving is always hard, but when you go to another continent with a completely different culture that’s 2 worlds behind you’re previous continent, it takes it to a whole new level. Talk about the adventure of a lifetime. I think back to a year ago when we moved and where I am now and how much has happened. I went to a British international school for 6 months, finished 10^th grade in December, and decided to transfer to a school in Taiwan for 11^th grade (that wouldn’t start until August 12, 2013). That’s just the school side, on the other side, I've got to see our babies at El Roi grow and start to walk and talk, go with my mama to bring home (to El Roi) some of the new babies, etc.

One “memory” I guess you could call it that’s treasured in my heart was with one of the moms of one of our sets of Twins, Leah and Rachel. The first time I met Nomsa was in the back of an ambulance as we were given her twins and she was rushed to the multiple drug resistant TB hospital. Since then, she’s become a big sister to me. Mom and I would go visit her and bring her treats, sit under the tree outside so we wouldn’t have to wear our masks and just talk. We encouraged her as she gained her strength and was fighting against this disease. It felt like we were fighting it with her, and I just assumed God would heal her because I know He’s big and can do anything He chooses, and this seemed like it would be such a big “win” for God, but like I said, He does what He chooses and He has a plan for everything. On top of that His plans are perfect. So when I heard that we were going to see Nomsa last Friday, and I heard the doctor say she had XDR (the last stage of TB), my heart broke. I looked at Nomsa and could see the hopelessness in her eyes as tears began to streak her face and mine as well. I didn’t understand... because we had been fighting this together? And she was supposed to get better and come home to Project Canaan? We had it all figured out and we had a plan, but this was NOT part of the plan. God was supposed to take care of the disease part, because we had everything else covered. This became one of those moments where I sat in silence, and thought. Where is God? And why isn’t He holding up His end of the bargain? That’s when you have to remind yourself that He is there and He does have a plan. His plans are perfect, and our plans aren’t always His plans, but His plans should always be our plans.

That’s just one of the stories of this past year, but it was an extremely important one. Watching people lives here seems so much more real to me. The struggles aren’t 1^st world problems, they’re problems that effect your health and well-being. Will I have food to feed my family tomorrow? Am I safe to walk my 2-hour walk home tonight?

You see real life when you’re living here, but you see joy too. Like when you go to El Roi and Ester walks over to you with her whole face just lit up. You crouch down and she just falls/flops into your arms for a hug and then proceeds to sit in/claim your lap for the duration of the visit. How is God so big? He sees and saves this little girl, one of my little sisters who brings so much love and joy, but He doesn’t heal my big sister Nomsa who is fighting for her life.

I'm sitting in silence as I write this, thinking about this past year and wondering, “What if my parents had said no?” Wondering how many people before them said no to this calling, and realizing how God allowed our whole family to be apart of His perfect plan. Maybe life would have been “easier” if we had stayed in Georgia, but we would have missed out on something greater than anything we could imagine. I would never have met these girls that I now call my sisters, my big sister and all of my little brothers and sisters.

Then I pause and think about what’s to come. I'm moving to Taichung, Taiwan in 8 days from now for my Junior and Senior year (11^th & 12^th grade) of high school by myself. I could have gone back to Georgia or anywhere else God wanted me to be, but He made it clear to me that He wanted me to go to Morrison Academy. And if His plans are as perfect as everyone says they are, then why would I want to go anywhere else? Morrison is an American Christian international boarding school, with tons of missionary kids and TCK’s (Third Culture Kids) just like me. Its like “an island of misfit (freakin’ awesome) toys” and I can’t wait to call it home. 

In a year and 8 days from now I'll read my journal entry from August 7, 2013, and see what my expectations, my fears, my hopes, and my questions were. But what I’m most genuinely excited for is to see how God has exceeded them all. 

          

            Wish me luck, 

                       

                        Chloe

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." 
     ~Jeremiah 29:11

I love you both.

What ever happened to ...? (updates on people and projects).

Miriam's "Got Milk". Photo by Jacob Van Singel.

  It has been a relatively quiet and uneventful week (aside from a massive wind storm and fires) and I always try to be intentional during these times to stop and reflect on all the God has done and is doing here on Project Canaan and around the world.

I am thankful for each of you who read this blog faithfully and often contact me and as how this person is and that person is.  As I sat quietly today and walked around the farm in my mind, praying for each department or situation, I thought it might be a good blog to give you a few short updates on people and things that might be of interest.  I would ask that you join me in praying for each of these areas as well as you have a day of rest tomorrow.

Children’s Campus:  We have 35 babies living at the El Roi Baby Home now and 24 at the Labakhetsiwe toddler home. There are 10 living in the “tinies” room (which is full) and six “walkers” will be moving to the toddler home next week.    We received six new children in 18 days in the month of May, but no children thus far in June.  I often wonder if no more children will come to us, and then the phone rings again.  Elisha fell and hit his head yesterday requiring three stitches, but otherwise just the usual teething pain, runny noses and colds.

Baby Isaiah:  Brooke and Lori Marschall took Isaiah to South Africa last week to continue testing to see why he is not thriving (he is 8 months old and weighs less than 10 lbs).  The good news is that his heart is perfect, his brain is perfect and they couldn’t find any other problems (heart condition and hydrocephalus were both in question).  We have run almost every possible test on this little guy, but now we will take him back on Tuesday to see a Pediatric Gastroenterologist (again) and a Geneticist.  His mother was a severely disabled (and deaf and mute) woman who has been in a wheelchair since birth. She was raped by a family member, gave birth at home and Isaiah ended up in the hospital a week after birth.  We pray life for this sweet little boy.

Emseni East:  The land for the new Emseni East children’s home and Oasis kitchen has been cleared and we expect to break ground on construction next week.  We have hit 65% of our fundraising goal, thanks to people like you buying $25 blocks for family and friends.  Thank you to all who have given and/or plan to support this important building project. 

Project Canaan Academy:  The Kindergarten construction is well underway, thanks to the ladies at the US Bank for their funding and support.  They are busy filling a 40ft container with furniture and supplies for the Kindergarten.  Pam Joseph (Vice Chairman of US Bank) and her Executive team will come over in October to unload the container and get the school set up and ready for a January opening. Also, we are now accepting applications for a Preschool teacher starting January 2015.  

Khutsala Artisans:  The ladies are busy making jewelry to sell during the fall/Christmas season back in the US and Canada.  We are also getting ready to reveal our new Christmas ornament for 2014.  Stay tuned for that one.  Feel free to shop today at www.heartforafrica.org.

Sicalo Lesisha Kibbutz:  We welcomed a new woman at the Kibbutz in the past couple of weeks.  She was literally picked up on the side of the road by one of our team members when she, and her 18-month old child, were being chased by a man who was beating her as she ran across the road.  Her boyfriend had just been released from prison for abusing her in the past and now he was out.  We welcome her and her son to Project Canaan.

Nomsa:  Nomsa (Gcebile) is settling in well at the Kibbutz.  She is still very weak and struggles to walk, but is still determined to live and takes her medication religiously. She went to the hospital this week and they gave her another 8-10 pills to take each day calling them “supplements”.  The biggest challenge is getting her to eat regularly, but we have a large team of people who visit her often and encourage her to eat and get strong.

El Rofi Medical Centre:  A 40 ft container of equipment and supplies arrived two weeks ago thanks to Cardinal Health and Giving Children Hope.   We have hired a nurse from Zimbabwe who will live on the farm and work at the medical centre Monday-Friday and she will work closely with Brooke and Dr. & Dr. Lemmer who will officially be responsible for the clinic. We will open the doors on July 7^th and have a Grand Opening Celebration on July 16^th when our large volunteer team is here.

Dam #2 – Rotary International: We started construction on the dam a few weeks ago, and now we must build a small building to install a holding tank for fuel so that the big machines don’t have to drive out to the gas station each day.  We were thankful to have visitors from our partner club here in Swaziland visit on Thursday and surprised to hear them on the radio and television the very next day singing the praises of Project Canaan and all that we are doing here.  What a lovely surprise and wonderful encouragement to all who work here and heard the news reports.

The Farm:  The farm looks great and the crops are rotating so that we always have fresh vegetables being picked.  We have a standing order with TexRay (a Taiwanese textile company in Matsapah) for 160 lbs of fresh vegetables every week and all other vegetables get sold to a local exporter.  Of course the children get farm fresh veggies every day to help provide nutritious meals to help them grow.

The Dairy: We’ve got milk!  And Chad pasteurizes it several times a week then makes all the yoghurt and cheese that we use at the Children’s Campus.  Yum, is all I can really say.

Sunday Worship:  Children’s Church is now happening at 9AM outside at the back of the baby home and all the children and Aunties attend, as well as those who just love worshiping with the little ones. It is a magical place to be and the feeling of peace and joy during our time with them is unexplainable. We are using the Children’s Program from Northpoint Community Church and starting at the beginning – Genesis and that “God created”. It is simply awesome. There is a Swazi service, in siSwati, at the chapel at 10AM and it is filled with Swazi music, dance and a message in siSwati.

The Maxwell’s:  We are in a good place right now.  Chloe is home for the summer (our winter) and it is wonderful to have her here.  She turns 18-years old on July 5^th so we have a trip to Cape Town planned to celebrate with her.  We have never been there so are excited to visit a most gloriously beautiful city.  Work is always in front of us and there is always so much to do, but as I type this, Ian and Chloe are enjoying “Lord of the Rings” and we will have a social visit with the Klees and Lori Marschall later today.  God is good.

That is my update for today. If I have missed someone or a project you want to know about, please feel free to message me and I will give you an update.

Live from Swaziland … this is a peaceful day.

Janine

Nomsa has moved to Project Canaan – Not sure I can do this.

Chloe and I taking Nomsa out of the hospital to the truck.

For those of you who don’t know who Nomsa is you can catch up by reading wednesdayswithnomsa.blogspot.com

Her real name is Gcebile Mabuza, but when I first started blogging about her I called her Nomsa for two reasons; it provided privacy for me to tell her story and it was an easy name for people who were reading the blog.  “Gcebile” has a front tooth cluck to it and can be tricky for the untrained tongue.

On November 19^th, 2012 (my birth day), Nomsa gave birth to her fourth and fifth children at the age of 23 years.  Her girls Rachel and Leah were her second set of twins and in early December she was dying on the floor of her mud hut from MDR-TB (Multiple Drug Resistant Tuberculosis).   She was taken to the TB hospital and I was called and asked if I could take the twins.  The answer was “yes”.  And that is how Nomsa and I met.

In January 2013 I started visiting her once a week to take her food, reading materials and to try to help her get healthy and well so that one day she could care for her own babies and they would not become orphans.  For a year she seemed to get better, gaining weight, taking her medicines and injections daily and helping so many other dying women who needed help in the ward.

In the fall of 2013 she took a turn for the worst.  She had left the hospital to take her medication at home, but got very sick and ended up back at the TB hospital.    One day when Chloe and I were at the hospital visiting we heard the news that we never wanted to hear (but always suspected).  Nomsa had become Extremely Drug Resistant to her Tuberculosis medication (XDR-TB).  This life-altering moment not only changed her life, but it changed ours.  This moment was captured live by film makers Jezz Newman and Beckie Stewart in their incredible film called “TB: Silent Killer - Return of the plague”, which is a PBS/BBC documentary about MDR-TB.  If you have not seen the film, I encourage you to google it or go to www.pbs.com and watch it today. 

Since that day Nomsa’s health has been in decline.  She was moved in to isolation and has watched roommate after roommate succumb to this horrific “plague”, dying in front of her eyes.  Her weight has dropped from 120 lbs to 83 lbs.  She is skin and bones, can’t walk on her own, is in terrible pain and is not always lucid.

In 2013 we built a house for her (a single room) at the kibbutz on Project Canaan with hope that she would one day be “culture negative” (non-infectious) and could move.  That day of “un-infectiousness” does not appear to be on the horizon. In fact, we are told unofficially that only one person in Swaziland has recovered from XDR-TB.  We are still praying for a miracle.

Last week I succumbed, not to the disease, but to her cries to go home.  She had given up hope in the hospital and was failing quickly. The Doctor shared with me that they almost lost her a couple of weeks ago while I was away, but she rallied one more time and stabilized, with more medication.

Last week I could no longer bear her phone calls, begging and tears.  I sought council from friends and experts as to the risks of bringing her here and surprisingly got full support from everyone, including the other women at the Kibbutz and the Aunties at the Children’s Campus.  Everyone said that I MUST go and get her and they would all help care for her.  The Kibbutz ladies would help care for her and her room. The Aunties would send down food three times a day.  People from abroad have offered to pay for her food, get her a cell phone with a radio and come and visit her when they can.  The outpouring has been overwhelming to me.

Nomsa seeing her twins on the way to her house. She couldn't touch them, but saw them.

 She has been here for five days and I now realize this may be the hardest thing I ever do.  Here are a few personal confessions from me.  I am not good with sick people.  I am not good with hospice. I would be a better emergency room worker, but not a long-term care person.  I hate to see people in pain. I avoid watching people suffer.  Nomsa is sick, she is in hospice under my care, she has been in long-term care (hospital for two years), she is in pain and she is suffering.

Janice Johnson with Nomsa in her new bed.

 I have gone to see her each day to count out and put in the correct containers her 36 pills, for her XDR-TB, her HIV/AIDS and her potassium and magnesium deficiency (which has lead to kidney failure).  I (and everyone visiting her) must wear a N95 mask and replace it every week to keep me/us safe when I/we see her.  

The women at the Kibbutz have gone every day to wash her, clean her room, bring her water and try to encourage her. They are simply amazing.

I believe that Nomsa is suffering from depression and some dementia, which is causing unusual conversations and demands (i.e. she only likes white bread, doesn’t like boiled chicken, pizza isn’t real food, and she wants a full time nurse to come and sit with her).  We are all working together to sort this out and help get each of us through this for the weeks or months to come.  Three days a week a government nurse is driven out to the farm to give Nomsa an injection in her hip.  They are committed to doing this every week, but have said that sometimes there is no gas for the vehicle and they don’t always travel when it’s raining. Sigh. We will make a back up plan, because we can, but what about all the other people who will miss out on their injections? 

I will admit, I am really struggling with this.  I feel a huge burden of responsibility and want her to get better, and I do believe in miracles.  But I have to remember that if she is not healed in this life, that we brought her here so that she can die with dignity, surrounded by people who love her.  I need to try to smile when I visit her (though the mask) and not feel sick when I count out her pills.  I need to remember to show her that I love her and not that I am terrified of her death.

Thank you for reading this blog and for your prayers for everyone here.  Please pray for protection for all and grace, joy and HIS peace that passes all understanding.

Live from Swaziland … some days are better than others.

Janine