In Malawi it is rare to find men
and women living into their 50s. Living
conditions are too hard, and the perils to health too ever present. Malaria is one of the most pervasive killers,
especially among those under five. The
very young are also vulnerable to cooking accidents. Over 12% of the adult population is HIV
positive. Public water sources are often
polluted, so many in the population carry around various forms of bacterial
infection. Serious illnesses are
frequently undiagnosed or misdiagnosed, and even when properly understood,
proper medical care, and access to the needed drugs and medications, are
limited. Hence, few live into their 60s,
and often those who do are crippled with various ailments-- poor eye sight,
limited mobility, constant pain.
Carole and I have quickly learned it is hard to estimate the age of the Malawians. Children are small in
stature, when compared to children in the United States, probably due to poor diets. Most of the little girls and boys are slight
in build and short for their age. Obesity
is not a problem in Malawi, no sugar pops for breakfast, no chips and pop after school, no fast food chains on every corner. I usually guess children
to be younger than they actually are. On the
other hand, adults age prematurely.
Early pregnancies, coupled with the hardships of daily living—carrying
water, caring for children, struggling to find food from day to day, inadequate
health care—take a relentless toil on the health of the young women. Life is not much easier for the young
men. And, in any event, when adults
reach their 40s, if they are fortunate enough to live that long, they look much
older to our eyes.
The Zingwangwa Branch has several
older members: Brother Sangala, a tailor by trade, who is 50; Brother Magombo, the oldest member, who is 77 according to the Church records; and Brother Mwale, at 69, who is the first
counselor in the District Presidency and has a large household for which he
remains financially responsible.
Below is a photo of President Mwale
and his wife, surrounding a number of grandchildren, who live with them. It is common for grandparents to take care of
grandchildren and other younger members
in the extended family, especially if they have a home and source of
income. So many adults die at young
ages, often leaving behind spouses and children totally destitute or in tight
financial straits. Children are sent to
live with those having the means to care for them. There are no annuities, life insurance
policies or social security to serve as a social safety net for orphans and widows. Extended
families are the first, and usually only, line of defense.
The system actually seems to work quite well—we have never heard a
complaint spoken about the hardships of taking in a child or elderly adult.
Brother Magombo, at 77, is the oldest member of the Branch. As you might imagine, he has an amazing robust constitution, no one lives that long in Malawi without it. He is surprisingly spry and alert. He comes to all the Church meetings and helps out however he can. Here is a picture of him collecting hymnals after a Church service:
I would like to introduce you to
another of our senior members--Brother Shauta Munthali—whom we visited last
week. The primary purpose of our visit
to the Munthali household was to visit with Memory, a young woman just 20 in
the Branch. Here is a photo of Memory
and her father, sitting in the front room of the Munthalis’ home.
Memory was just called to serve as
the President of the Young Women’s Organization in the Branch, even though she
herself is just a few years removed from Young Women. She has asked Carole to instruct her on her
duties as a new leader. Memory is also preparing to serve a full-time
mission, working to secure a passport, one of the critical time sensitive
prerequisites for serving as a missionary. She hopes to be in the mission field
sometime next year. [In our mission,
the Zambia Lusaka Mission, roughly half of the missionaries are from the United
States and half from other African countries—Uganda, Kenya, Zimbabwe, and South
Africa, to name a few. Consequently, most companionships pair one African with
one white or western missionary. Having
gotten to know several of the missionary pairs well, both sisters and elders,
Carole and I have been impressed with how well they appear to get along.] Even though our branch is small, currently it
has five of its young folks out serving on missions, all assigned to work in
African countries. At our last District
meeting, held in the Blantyre Chapel, we learned of two Africans, from the other
branches in Blantyre, who have recently been called to go to England on missions, one to
serve in London, and the other in Birmingham, prompting lots of jokes about
cold weather. The Malawians can’t stand
the cold, bundling up with knit caps and sweaters at the slightest dip in
temperature.
Carole had firmed up the
appointment with Memory the prior Sunday.
Not knowing where the Munthalis
lived, the plan was to meet in the front of the Mwales’ home—a family we have
visited the week before. Memory told us that she lived close to the Mwales and
that would be a convenient meeting spot.
We had seen Brother Munthali’s name on the Branch list, but had never
seen him in Church, nor heard the Branch members talk about him or his family.
When we arrive at the appointed
meeting place, Memory is not there.
After waiting for 10 or 15 minutes, Carole calls Memory (fortunately, we
have her cell number with us). Somehow
the plans for meeting have gotten scrambled, Memory thinking the appointment is
for the next day. After rescheduling
for another time, Carole and I start down the hill, the truck being parked a
couple hundred yards away. The unpaved roads
in that township are awful, so we usually leave the truck parked, off to the
side of the dirt roads in what we think of as safe areas in the flats, and hike
in, and usually up, to our appointments.
[We find that easier on the truck and our nerves.] Yet before we manage
to get back to the truck, Memory, slightly out of breathe, magically
appears. How exactly she manages to
find us we don’t know—though, of course, we always stick out and are, in this
case, not too far from the scheduled rendezvouz spot.
This is a photo of Carole, Memory
and Brother Munthali:
The Munthali home sits back from the lane,
with a broad open front yard, an uncommon feature in the community, most homes
closely crowding the road. The outside
of the home is plastered with concrete—setting it apart from neighboring homes
with their unadorned brick facades. The
home is far more specious than expected from first appearance—the living and
dining areas are separated, behind which is a connecting hall, bedrooms and an
indoor bathroom. A small backroom opens
out to a covered back porch and a barren backyard. It is certainly one of the nicer homes in the
immediate community.
The front of the house also has a
narrow covered porch. It is here we met
Brother Munthali. He is lying down,
knees ups, in what appears to be a tangled clump of clothes, propped up against
the side wall. Several boys are on the
porch, playing some kind of game, and seemingly keeping him company. He is spectral in appearance, all legs and
arms, angular, giving him a length quite at odds with his slight frame. I lend him a hand to allow him to stand upright. He has no weight, but sinewy strength in his
frail arms. He greets us warmly and invites us into his
home, saying over and over, we are most welcome. At
first, I am not sure if he knows who we are and why we have come.
But quickly, it becomes appear he
is alert and understands we are the new senior mission couple, working in the
Zingwangwa Branch, visiting the members’ homes. I had expected our visit to focus on Memory,
but it does not play out that way.
Carole talks to Memory and I to Brother Munthali. He and I, we learn, are from the “same
sheets,” he being 62 and I 66. We have
both had long lives and are close to the end.
He and his wife, now 10 years deceased, are the parents of five
daughters, something he touches upon wistfully.
No mention is made of sons, but the way in which he talks of his
daughters, nothing more than a slight inflection in tone—like the deft striking
of a piano chord--seems to reflect a wordless yearning for a son. Memory is the fourth daughter and takes care
of him, fixing meals, keeping the house clean, shopping. Several other daughters are in Blantyre, but
at least one of them lives in LiLongwe, Malawi’s capital, a five hour drive to
the north.
I am surprised to learn he spent two years in
the mid-1970s, in Belfast, Ireland, going to school and improving his
English. He studied computer
sciences. While going abroad to school
is common in the States, it is exceptionally uncommon here. It would have been even more so 40 years
ago. No one can afford travelling or
studying outside the country. Most have
never been outside of Malawi. Buying a
passport is beyond the means of the average individual. To have struck out, when he did, leaving
behind village, and family, and home, would have required great courage and
gumption, making him as a true pioneer. Knowledge
of geography is limited among Malawians.
Most in Malawi would not have a clue where Ireland appears on a
map. [Yesterday one middle-aged sister
in the Branch, a new member, could not locate Africa on the world map, pointing
instead to North America.] The world is still a small place in
Malawi. The options for travelling are
narrowly defined, and are circumscribed in terms of shuttling between one’s
village and Blantyre or making brief trips to LiLongwe, Zomba, or Mzuzu. Few have been to Mozambique, Zambia, Kenya, Tanzania,
Zimbabwe or South Africa. Europe, Asia
or the United State are out of reach, only visited by the rich and
government officials.
Brother Munthali has bad legs and
finds it difficult to get around. And
several years ago he largely lost his sight, leaving him to suffer with one eye
milky and the other not much better. These events have conspired to render him
essentially house bound. His world is
contracting, as it does for many older seniors.
But he, like many elderly adults, has a rich personal history, with
years of activity and accomplishment, a history now largely unknown to any but
his closest family members. I doubt many
in the Branch know much about him at all.
After returning from Ireland, he thrived
financially, buying a car and financing the purchase of two homes, evidences of
worldly success not common found in the Zingwangwa area. He supported his large family and, even
today, with the rents collected on his second home, he supplies the monies
needed to support Memory and other family members.
Sometime after his wife’s death, he
went to the temple in Johannesburg, South Africa. Getting to the temple is a primary goal of
many members. It is expensive to go, so
many have to wait years before they can save the funds needed for the
trip. It takes over 20 hours by bus to
make the trip to Johannesburg. As a consequence,
temple trips, when made, are scheduled as multi-day events, recognizing that,
for many, it may be the first and only time they have the opportunity of
attending the temple. The level of
sacrifice demonstrated by the local members, in going to the temple, paying
tithing, and even trekking to Church on the Sabbath, is inspiring. For them, these acts of obedience are not
casually done. They require discipline,
planning and sometimes years of months of savings. They do not complain or bemoan their lot in
life. They are not bitter or
angry. They do not feel God has
forgotten them or been unfair. Instead,
they see themselves as having been blessed and recognize the hand of God in
their affairs. Their spiritual lives are
rich and alive. They embrace the gospel
readily and find its simple truths to give them hope and to infuse their lives
with meaning.
Brother Munthali’s life abundantly
demonstrates this. With his health
afflictions, limited mobility, and isolation, he could have been despondent. He could have complained about the lack of
visitors, this poor eyesight, being alone, or pain in his legs. But instead he was so appreciative of our
dropping by to meet him and Memory. He
was the consummate host, welcoming and gracious, lifting us up and making us
feel special. He epitomizes what we now
think of as the quintessential Malawi greeting “you are most welcome.”
Towards the end of our first visit,
I asked Brother Munthali if he would like to receive a priesthood blessing,
guessing it may have been years since such a blessing had been given to
him. He responded enthusiastically.
Priesthood blessings are given to the faithful—that through their faithfulness,
as well as through the faithfulness of those in attendance when the blessing is
pronounced, the sick or afflicted may be comforted, or healed, or, even in some
cases, promised a release from the continuing pains and suffering of this
mortal life. The one giving the blessing
is expected to listen carefully to the promptings of the Holy Ghost when
pronouncing the blessing upon the sick.
The priesthood bearer is to be the conduit through which the Lord
speaks. As a consequence, the giving of
blessings is not a casual matter in the Church.
Pronouncing a blessing is considered a sacred matter and, when done
properly, can be a great blessing, not only to the afflicted, but also to the
afflicted’s family and to those in attendance.
When we returned to the Munthalis,
several days later, for the blessing, we were joined by Elder Mkochi, a
returned missionary from Zimbabwe, who is the executive secretary in the
Zingwangwa Branch. Elder Mkochi, age 27,
is engaged to be married; his intended is Sister Toko, who is one of the two
primary teachers. I wanted Elder Mkochi
to accompany me for several reasons. I
thought Brother Munthali might prefer having the blessing in Chichewa, his
native language, not knowing how comfortable he would be with English. But more importantly, since our role is to
act as “shadow” leaders, the African leaders to assume and take the primary
responsibilities, I thought Brother Mkochi should act as the spokesperson in
giving the blessing. Here is a picture
of Brother Mkochi:
Once we were gathered in the Munthalis’ living
room, I took a few minutes previewing the steps of the ordinance that was about
to take place, explaining that a priesthood blessing involves two parts: an
anointing with consecrated oil of the head of the sick or afflicted; followed
by a “sealing” of the anointing, coupled with a priesthood blessing, given by
the spokesperson as he feels inspired to speak. I anointed and Brother Mkochi sealed. Brother Mkochi gave a wonderful blessing and
I trust Brother Munthali was comforted, not only by the words spoken but as
also by the warm spirit felt by the small group who were there to support
Brother Munthali.
At this time I will not review in
detail what we think happens, both to the person being blessed, as well as to
the person giving the blessing, when priesthood blessings are
administered. I would, however, like to
leave one thought about priesthood blessings.
This I do by analogizing to our
personal prayers, when we seek blessings or protection or comfort of the Lord,
either for the benefit of ourselves or others.
We think we know what is good for us or for others, but that is
frequently not the case. We, like
children, often ask for the wrong things.
We ask for relief from trials, for success in our earthly endeavors, for
material possessions, often when each of these prayers is not what we
need. Indeed, from the Lord’s
perspective, the trials we have may be for our eternal benefit, learning
patience and obedience through our struggles to overcome them; getting a new
job or the next promotion, earning more money, may give rise to pride and
distract us from pursuing diligently what are really the most important things
in life; and getting more of what the world offers clutters our lives. The life of the Malawians makes that
abundantly clear. They have little, but
they are rich in the things of the spirit.
It is the Lord who knows what is
best for us, and we need to trust in Him.
Paul recognizes our lack of vision, saying “Likewise the Spirit also
helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought:
but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be
uttered. And he that searcheth the
hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession
for the saints according to the will of God.
And we know that all things work together for them that love God, to
them who are the called according to his purpose.” Romans 8: 26-28. The Prophet Joseph Smith receives similar
counsel, when suffering in Liberty Jail in the winter of 1839. Joseph laments, as he pleads with the Lord to
avenge him and the saints, and to relieve him and them of their burdens. “O God, where art thou? And where is the
pavilion that covereth thy hiding place?
How long shall thy hand be stayed, and thine eye, yea thy pure eye,
behold from the eternal heavens the wrongs of thy people and of thy servants,
and thine ear be penetrated with their cries?
Yea O Lord, how long shall they suffer these wrongs and unlawful
oppressions, before thine heart shall be softened toward them, and thy bowels
be moved with compassion toward them?...Remember thy suffering saints, O our
God: and thy servants will rejoice in thy name forever.” D & C 121: 1-3; 6.
The Lord’s reply to Joseph’s
complaint is short and direct. It does
not bring the relief Josephs wants or asks for. “My son, peace be unto thy soul; thine
adversity and thine afflictions shall be but a small moment; And then, if thou endure it well, God shall
exalt thee on high; thou shalt triumph over all thy foes.” D & C 121: 7-8. Instead, the Lord offer His peace, not the
peace of the world; the Lord asks for patience, for long-suffering, for courage
in the face of trials. “Peace I leave
with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto
you. Let not your heart be troubled,
neither let it be afraid.” John 14: 27. This is what we can rely upon when asking for
the Lord’s blessings—whether these requests for blessing come through personal
prayers or as a result of priesthood blessings. We can count upon the Lord to speak peace to
our hearts. To give us strength to face
adversity. To give us the assurance that
we are in the Lord’s care and that He is mindful of us, whatever our
circumstances, whether they be painful or challenging, seemingly hopeless or
bleak. I hope Brother Munthali felt that
spirit of peace, as Brother Mkochi pronounced his words of blessing, that he
knows of the Lord’s love for him, and knows that he is engraven in the palms of
the Lord.
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