Caution: May Contain Nuts

He did it.

He got to the even dozen.

I think he can stop now.

Yup, that’s right. Timothy has malaria. Again. The poor guy is a mosquito magnet.

Timothy has the distinction of having suffered this nasty, parasitic disease not once, but twelve times. So many times, actually, that it has become less interesting to me than the common cold. After all, you’re just stuck with the cold until it’s gone. You can treat malaria with a few pills… that is, if you catch it on time. And if you have the pills. And if you can keep them down. Did you know that your average medicine cabinet/ first aid kit doesn’t contain malaria pills? I can’t imagine living without them. Or, I should say, I can’t imagine Timothy living without them!!!

So when he came home on Monday, pale, clammy, and achy, croaking out that he might have malaria, I calmly tucked him into bed, gave him a glass of water, and waited for fever spikes (the sign that you have malaria, not the flu). By 9pm he was still holding in at exhaustion and lethargy, so I figured it was the flu after all. However, when I got up in the morning to find that he’d slept the whole night on Monica’s floor because he was too dizzy to make it back to bed… and when he had a few fever spikes… and a few other unpleasant symptoms… we called it official. Malaria times twelve. I pulled out the Coartum, filled his tummy with bacon, and continued with my day (the anti malarial works better in conjunction with fatty foods; poor Timothy gets as much bacon as he wants, but he’s too sick to enjoy it!)

Later I mentioned to a few friends that he wouldn’t be around as he was dealing with the migraines, fever, etc. To me, this is all completely normal malaria-like behavior, overcome after a few days of medication and rest. To other (normal) people, this is not good news. This is take-him-to-the-hospital news. This is will-he-make-it-? news. This is pull-down-the-shades-and- close-up-shop news. Apparently I have become a bit cavalier about malaria. Maybe it’s because once a person has had malaria eleven times, he is sharp enough to take the medication before he needs hospitalization, an iv bag, and a blood transfusion. I think this takes a bit more deductive reasoning than your average fever/migraine-ridden individual is capable of accomplishing, but Timothy is up to the task. A gift I very much appreciate, as I like to live with the confidence that my husband will make it through this disease again and again. After twelve times, I’m not fooling myself into believing that he has actually charmed the mozzy beast.

Actually, it’s not easy to diagnose malaria before hospitalization becomes necessary. This is because, in the early stages of the disease, it can only be detected by a blood test during a fever spike… and even then it sometimes doesn’t show up. By the time the parasite count is high enough to register as positive on the tests (especially the field tests, which is what most hospitals out here use), the suffering individual is already beyond keeping down any pills and has a few other symptoms contributing to dehydration and extreme fatigue. At this point, a good hospital is your only hope. I’m glad that Timothy has become so proficient at self-diagnosing.

Having two small children in the house, we have layered on as much anti-mosquito protection as we reasonably can. We have bug zappers, “Doom” plug-ins, we’ve sprayed all the openings to the house, sleep under mosquito nets, and go to bed early. That being said, sometimes the little buggers get through. And it only takes one.

Please pray for our babies. I’m not so worried about Timothy and myself. If we get malaria, it’s painful, it’s ugly, but it IS treatable. If Monica or Frederick get it, first we have to figure out that they have it (“Frederick, where does it hurt?” still isn’t very effective), then we have to get them treatment before the dehydration, vomiting, and diarrhea become… too much.

Please, please remember my babies when you pray for yours. We are doing what we can to protect them, we trust in God’s grace and provision for the rest.

We praise God that He has again enabled Timothy to realize the problem before it became life threatening. We praise Him that Timothy had the fore-thought to have Coartum on hand. We praise God for providing the means to protect our family, as much as possible, from malaria. His faithfulness alone keeps us, body and soul, from day to day.

God bless Coartum.

Working in Africa, we have many causes for both joy and sorrow. Some days bring the celebration of salvation and life, while others expose the fetid ugliness of a land still far from seeking the Lord and the covenant curses this brings on the African people.

Today we stood with our friends, Bwalia and Odessa, as they buried their baby. They lost their sixteen-month old son, Fortune, in what amounts to unknown causes. While the official report says “anemia and diarrhea”, even the doctor admits that he is unsure what actually killed little Fortune (and the nurse in charge of the morgue said, “Sir, he’s dead. Just deal with it; go bury him.”) Because this was a baby from a relatively poor, African family, few tests were done to ascertain the cause of illness… let alone death. There are few medical facilities here in Kabwe, and those that are available are of poor quality. The only lab in town tests only for malaria and std’s. The next closest lab/medical facility is over two hours away- and there are no ambulances in rural Zambia. Assuming that Fortune’s symptoms, diarrhea and vomiting, were caused by teething (the malaria test was negative), the doctor gave him an injection to stop the diarrhea and sent him home. He wasn’t tested for water-borne parasites. He wasn’t prescribed iron supplements for the supposed anemia. He was sent home “teething”. Within thirty-six hours, Fortune was dead.

It has been a very sobering day, as we have considered the many blessings that we enjoy in the west. Good medical care, competent physicians, quality food products, clean water, sewage disposal, and sanitary living arrangements are all easily taken for granted. We benefit from blessings that have been upon our land and culture after generations of God-fearing parents and leaders established a Christian legacy. Africa does not enjoy such a heritage. Africa is still enslaved by superstition, disease, and fear.

Because hospitals are places that people too often go to die rather than live, they frequently double as a mortuary (there were, in fact, many funerals taking place there today). Essentially, the body is transferred to the back where it stays until the family can pay the fees to have their loved one buried. This morning there was some delay in the release of Fortune’s body (due to “the Africa Factor”), so we
waited outside the small, brick facility in Kabwe with Bwalia, Odessa, and their family. As I stood there, holding Frederick, I was confronted by a man who was distraught that I was so near death with my baby. He kept urging me to leave, to at least “stand outside so the mwana [baby] won’t breathe the smell [spirit/death]”. It is a prevalent belief here that if an infant or small child is too near a dead person, that child will breathe in the death and bad spirits, bringing about his own sad and early end. Death is not, by the common African, attributed to disease, life-style, germs, parasites, or other related issues… it is blamed on spirits, jinxes, bad luck, etc.

As Fortune’s body was lowered into the small hole in the rustic, roadside graveyard, I couldn’t help but notice that there were several more holes dug alongside, each waiting to receive its own eternal occupant. Those graves will be filled today, as the other mounds in that row were created within the last few days. Row upon row, another graveyard quickly filling because of ignorance, fear, and sin. I learned that the small town of Kabwe has nine graveyards. Nine graveyards. There aren’t enough people here to warrant two grocery stores, but there are enough deaths to require nine graveyards.

Please pray with us as we bring God’s Law and love to Kabwe. Please pray for a people enslaved by fear and burdened with senseless death. Pray for us as we minister to their needs here in Kabwe.

Pray for a people who need nine graveyards and only one grocery store.

Dear Cockroach Community,

I would greatly appreciate it if you would confine your activities and residence to the outdoors. I am aware that, by moving to an undeveloped area, I have technically encroached (haha, enc-roached) on your domain, but I would like to point out that you have plenty of space outside. In fact, several of the neighbors appear to be inviting your presence with their various household practices.

I have worked really hard to keep abandoned toddler snacks, infant spew, bread crumbs, ketchup smears, and other tasty crumbles out of temptation’s way. However, I’ve noticed that you continue to express interest in widening your territory into mine. I am kindly requesting that you find other accommodation immediately.

I would also like to inform you that your intrepid, three-inch ambassador will be unable to return to your community. If you send additional emissaries, please be aware that their fate will be the same.

Regards,
Ashley

PS. If you wish to prevent further reductions in your numbers, please forward this notice to your relatives of all shapes and varieties.

PSs. I would like to point out that leaping onto a chair and howling for the man of the house is, actually, a dignified reception for any emissaries sent into our home.