Despite being at full capacity, when the courts decided to
send 17 new girls the doors were open wide - wide enough to
fit 17 mattresses through, as the living room gave way to the
new dorm room conversion. This is a perfect example of the
welcoming family atmosphere at Iris Madagascar. Eager to get
involved, Maria and I baked banana cake for everyone at the
welcome party. With her 100% baking success rate and my 100%
baking failure rate, I can confidently conclude that all of
our baking complications were entirely her fault. No one's
perfect.
The base is now home to 103 children, ranging from the ages
of four months to eighteen years. On top of this the centre
also provides:
- A lunch program for around 200 local children three times a
week.
- A weekly milk feeding program for new mothers.
- A community program giving out rice and funding for
education to struggling families.
-A ministry to the children living at the rubbish dump,
complete with doctor and medical assistant.
All of this whilst running one of the most successful home
school programs this side of Ferris Beuller.
When striving to meet every physical need in the area by all
means humanly possible isn't enough, faith steps in to bridge
the gap. Just the week before I arrived, a blind woman and
her son came to the centre looking for medical care. With the
doctor away, Julio offered an even better solution - prayer
for complete healing. She left with fully restored vision and
a grin on her face, enjoying the beauty of a son she hadn't
laid eyes on in years. Miracles happen.
For the last ten days of my stay I abandoned the visitor's
centre. The guard's loyal pet rooster manned the gate, whilst
he fashioned my suitcase as a hat up the hill to Caroline's
house - I guess wheeled bags aren't in this season.
Life with Caroline and her two year old daughter Esti is how
I imagine the existence of an off-duty Disney princess. Even
in the power cuts when the storm 'raged on' the musical show
did not falter. And to think, I hadn't even seen Frozen
before I lived the sound track that week.
Keeping the balance in my sanity was her 13 year old son
Andry. His schooling in the ways of Dragonball - Z enabled
the student to briefly become the master in the realms of
PlayStation on my final night. (I beat him once).
Throughout my time in Madagascar I had the honour of tutoring
17 year old Sarobidy. This kid is incredible. For the first
few days we followed the course of his school books, spending
our afternoons pausing and puzzling over trivial grammar
points. I apologised on behalf of the rebellious nature of
the rule defiant English language, before requesting that we
diverge from the book in favour of more engaging methods. He
agreed. The afternoon that followed was probably the
highlight of my trip. That's right - conversation that ranks
higher than a selfie with a lemur. Through basic English,
doodles and charades I told him a story from my life,
challenging him to repeat the tale to practice the new
language, such as 'fear', 'cow' and 'crash'. My part over, it
was time for him to take centre stage. The following hours
were spent in laughter, understanding and borderline tears on
my part as he shared accounts of his childhood with me.
Whether what he told me that day was true or false I neither
know nor care - this kid is an inspiration and a constant
reminder that there's a plan at work in all of our
lives.
This is just one example of the 103 awe inspiring children on
that base! I had so much fun playing with them each day, I
love every single one of them!
Before I went to Madagascar the only insight I had lead me to
anticipate an island run by musical lemurs and militarised
penguins. And that's exactly what I found.
Joking aside, Madagascar rarely makes our news in the west,
but the truth is that horrendous cases of organ trafficking
is on the rise. During my time there six children were taken
from a local school, tragically their bodies were found a few
days later - organs removed. The threats drew closer to home
when an desperate and enraged woman from the surrounding
village burst into the centre, screaming at the children and
threatening to come back for their hearts that night. She was
dragged to the village chief and taken away, not before
hurling more abuse and even biting Caroline.
As is to be expected, emotions were high after this. When
rumours of more threats reached the base the next day
everyone was quick to react. I was on my way back from the
girl's house when Andry came flying down the hill past me, a
huge kitchen knife in his hand. I shouted him over, making
some idol quip about running with scissors - he let the
awkwardness slide and blurted out a panicked report of a
planned attack the boys centre before running off to find his
mum. Within minutes we were busy moving and carrying all 103
children across the village to the safety of the missionary's
houses.
Fortunately nothing came of the new threats, and the village
chief agreed to have police walk by the centre at intervals
that night. When it comes to the lives of these kids every
precaution is worth taking. Unfortunately security costs
money and extra guards are a further expense, but we have
faith in a greater protection.
Nothing can break the spirits here and my send off was one
fit for a PHD. Best goodbye EVER!! Thank you Iris Madagascar,
I miss you!
