What NOT to Do

Who knows if it’s still on today, but back when I babysat a sweet girl named Hope, we watched this TV show called, “What NOT to Wear.” The show takes people in serious need of clothing style intervention and has experts fly in to save the day with money and talent to create a new wardrobe for the lucky participant. Back then, I secretly pondered the idea of dressing frumpily for a month or two, in hopes that one of my friends would sign me up. Who knows, maybe after living in Africa for two years, I may qualify legitimately. ;)

When you’re assisting a mission team, not many people care what you wear, but there are certainly some things you shouldn’t do. Below is a sample from my trip to Tulear of things that were not the brightest ideas I’ve ever had. So here you have it – the Malagasy version of “What NOT to Do:”

#1: What not to do: feed your volunteers unknown food. I saw some kids enjoying green shavings of a fruit-like substance, and popped some in my mouth. I couldn’t figure out what it was, so I called one of the volunteers over and asked him to try it. He did. Only afterwards did I realize how badly that could have gone. Thankfully, God protected our stomachs and neither one of us had any problems even though the kids had a unique way of cleaning the shaving knife – licking it. :P As for the fruit, green mango is our best guess to date. :)

#2: What not to do: jump into deep holes you can’t get out of without help. Two of the volunteers and Mirana were having a medical and spiritual discussion with a woman in her home. I know it’s distracting if dozens of curious children are poking in all the time, so I decided to distract the kids. Eventually, I ran out of songs and games, and asked the kids to show me what they play. “Jump in the hole!” they yelled, running around like hooligans. I looked down in this six-foot deep hole, and realized I’m not going to be able to get out without help. The children proceeded to show me how they jump into the hole, do a little dance, and get pulled out by their friends. Not knowing if they would do the same for me, I jumped down in the hole, did a little dance, and raised my arms up, hoping my faith in them was not misplaced. Thankfully, the kids had a heart and pulled me out. Back in the hut, the lady that the volunteers and Mirana talked with prayed to become a child of God! SO worth it.

#3: What not to do: turn down marriage proposals. Especially from men who claim to love you for more than your ability to get them to America. At twenty-six, I am definitely considered an old maid here, and more than one gentleman told me, “We don’t have to live in the USA; we could live in the capital city, or the rain forest, or even here in this desert village!” How could I have rejected that?

#4: What not to do: assume to know the way from a dust cloud. Many of you would be jealous of all the cool roads I got to drive on – rock fields, sand dunes, ox cart trails, etc. I didn’t know how to get out to the Mahafaly villages, so I just followed Grant in the truck ahead of me. Sometimes his truck would kick up crazy dust clouds and I had to stop and wait for it to clear before I could continue on. One time we came to a split in the road. My car was so far behind that we couldn’t see his truck and didn’t know which way he had taken. All of a sudden, we saw a cloud of dust ahead on the path to the left. Diving into the forest with the truck, we raced along for a few minutes before we realized that the other car had not taken this road…the dust from the right trail had blown over on this one, fooling us all. Praise the Lord we were able to get back on the right track and didn’t encounter any bandits on the road home!


#5: What not to do: forget to exploit fears. One of the strong men of a village looked at Kelly, Steffi, and I and said, “If I saw you three girls walking down the road at night, I would be so scared I’d jump into a cactus!” We asked him why, and he said it was because we are white like ghosts. Oh the fun we could have had… :P

All in all, I had a WONDERFUL time on my jaunt down to Tulear with the team from the Southbridge Fellowship. The team came well prepared with hearts ready to learn and serve, so they were a joy to get to know and work with. It was such a blessing to get to see the ministry of my friends and co-workers in Tulear, the Waller family and Tessa, firsthand. On the medical side of the team, we were able to teach medical lessons, assess villages, coach a community health worker, visit people in their homes, answer many questions, and instruct classes of medical students at the university in the city.

I was delighted to have Mirana (our national partner pictured at the top) accompany me on this trip. We had many great chats. Seeing that she is competent in medical teaching and passionate about sharing Jesus, and knowing she will continue our work has been such a comfort and encouragement to me as Heather and I are packing up to come back to America. You guys can certainly be in prayer for us as we get all our stuff ready to return and say our goodbyes to the lovely people here. Amazingly enough, my next (and probably last) letter to y’all will probably be from the great state of Tennessee. What a remarkable time we have had here. What a privilege it has been to see God work here. Thank you for your prayers and the love you continually show me.

“The LORD sat enthroned at the Flood, and the LORD sits as King forever. The LORD will give strength to His people; the LORD will bless His people with peace.” Psalm 29:10-11

Cara :)
Isaiah 1:18-19

Not Your Third Wife

I look forward to sharing pics and stories from Mahafaly land with you soon, but thought I'd share this pic (sans the story) with you now. To give you a hint of their mindset, when we were talking about God's plan for marriage using the story of Adam and Eve, one of our volunteers mentioned that a wife is a blessing from the Lord. A Mahafaly man piped up and said, "Then I am very blessed - I have three!"

Grandma Gives Birth

On my way to Madagascar, I asked God to let me see a birth in a village during my time here. This last week, He said yes to that request!

Chatting over breakfast in the village of Ambodivoahangy, our host mentioned that “the pregnant woman has laid down.” I looked at Mirana, wondering if that could mean what I thought it did. It did. “That means she will give birth soon.” Mirana, well aware of my adoration of newborns, went ahead and asked which hut belonged to the pregnant lady.

After (quickly) finishing breakfast, we went to the woman’s house, and she said she would not mind at all if I was present at the birth. Here are some numbers for you:

42 - Age of the pregnant lady (her daughter has a child of her own)
15 - Times she has given birth
12x16 - Width and length (in feet) of the dimly lit hut
6 - How many living children she has
6 - Sets of mothers and babies who gathered in the hut when it was time for her to give birth
1 - Rusty razor brought out to cut the cord

Her husband was running around the house, snatching down any loose items on the walls or windowsills “so the placenta doesn’t get stuck hanging.” There are lots of rules about birth, so I was happy to only commit one social taboo during the entire time! :P You see, I think every birth is a miracle. When the sweet little girl came out, she wasn’t moving or crying. After a couple slaps on the bottom, she started wailing - such a reassuring sound! I looked at her mom and said excitedly, “Congratulations on your baby!” The midwife looked over at me and said, “Wait!”

Apparently, the people in the mountains have a saying very much like our American “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” and that is, “Don’t say congratulations until the placenta comes out.” Oopsie. You can bet your britches I started praying hard that nothing went wrong, lest they think it was my fault for breaking their taboo! Thank the Lord, everything came out alright and they quickly forgave me and ended up chuckling at my ignorance. :-)

After the birth, it was strange because the women just sat around quietly. No “oohs” and “ahhs” over how cute the baby was. It is taboo to show a lot of happiness when a child is born. If you do, they believe the ancestors will get jealous and kill your baby. I decided to pull the foreigner (exemption) card and show my excitement anyway. 1) Because there was no stopping it, and 2) because children are a blessing from the Lord, so I figured I had a biblical basis to rejoice. ;)

(The midwife and me)

Each night this last week in the village, the people drank and partied into the wee hours of the morning, getting ready for the circumcision party on Sunday. One night, I thought the circumcision dancers were singing about me, but figured I was just being vain. Turns out they were. :P They were hoping the foreigner would come dancing with them. While I am not against a dance party, a hut full of drunken people screeching worship to the forest is not something I am going to join in on! There are twenty-six little boys that will be circumcised tomorrow (their foreskins will be eaten, according to custom, by a close relative) with the same knife. “Don’t be worried,” the people told me, “we rinse the knife off with water and moonshine.” Oh my.

Prayer Requests/Praises:
- For the people of this village (Ambodivoahangy) to understand clearly what the Truth is, realize the darkness that they are in, and turn to the Light.
- Monday morning Mirana and I drive down to Tulear to work with a medical team that is coming from the states. We will be there Sept. 19-30. Please remember us during this time!
- Etisky was able to go to the specialist and get his arm set without difficulty. He is now running around, cute as ever, with a cast on and a follow-up appointment scheduled!


“The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and upon those who sat in the region and shadow of death, Light has dawned.” Matthew 4:16

“But you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, His own special people, that you may proclaim the praises of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.” I Peter 2:9

In His love,
Cara :)
John 1:1-14

Doctor, Doctor

I’m always excited to get to do hands-on nursing. I know our medical teaching is incredibly helpful, prevents problems, and is much more reproducible than just me giving out some band-aids, but I sure miss the hands-on aspect of nursing at times! This is one reason why this last week has been so neat for me.

We were able to bring two visiting doctors from America to the village of Ankazotsara. They taught about disease transmission, gave out de-worming pills, shared the Gospel with 100 people, and had a clinic in the little schoolhouse! I was concerned at first that people might not come due to trust and shyness issues, but they came in droves, praise the Lord! The doctors were very patient with everyone, and, along with “normal” illnesses, got to see some tropical diseases like elephantiasis (pictured above).

During clinic time, a 4-year-old boy named Etsiky was brought in. He had fallen two days prior, and looked like he had a broken arm. He had had no pain medication the whole time. His parents didn’t know how to care for it, so his arm was just hanging limp and swollen by his side. :( The family had no money with which to take him to the hospital (hospitals here don’t treat without money given up front), so they were just going to leave it like that. I talked with his parents, assuring them we would help out financially, and they agreed to let me take them to the hospital the next morning. Sure enough, Etisky had a broken arm. The bad news was that the bone had started to heal improperly. Etisky needed an orthopedist to re-break the bone, set it properly, and put on a cast. The initial doctor exam, x-rays, and medicine were not very expensive. The total came to $7.50. But a trip to another hospital to see an orthopedist and get the procedure done (since they don’t have the right capabilities at the hospital that is close) was going to be more expensive. Praise the Lord, there is a group of believers in the Czech Republic who sent us money specifically to meet medical needs, so we were able to use that to get Etsiky to the specialist! We were also able to pray with him and his family, and share how God can heal through miracles or by the wisdom and skill He has given to doctors. I have seen many children and adults in the villages with mangled or useless limbs from never healing right after a break, so to be able to prevent this in this little boy was such a blessing to my heart and to everyone involved.
The smiling photo of Etsiky is from before his accident. The pitiful picture of Etisky crying was the day we took him to the hospital. We were trying to makeshift a sling and teach his mom ways to decrease the swelling. We ended up demonstrating how to properly use a sling on his good arm, and, once the pain medications kicked in, his mother was able to put the sling on his hurt arm. She said it helped bring the swelling down, praise the Lord!

I always struggle at the end of my letters to you because there are SO MANY amazing, wonderful, corrective, exhortive, inspiring verses I want to send you! If I sent them all, however, each update would be hundreds of pages long, so let me just encourage you with this and I will wrap it up. :-) The words of Jesus from Matthew 11:28-30:

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

May God bless you, my friends and prayer warriors!
Cara :)

P.S. The medical care in this country might be super sub-par, but the views are beautiful! This one's from my veranda (yes, I live in a paradise):

Photographer of the Dead

Crammed into a small, dark room, inebriated people jostle me from every side. Amidst the wailing and moaning, I steady myself to take a picture of the deceased woman lying in the center of the room. A warm liquid drenches my pajama pants as a mourner spills their alcohol on me. Feeling a bump to the back of my knee, I catch myself just before falling on top of the dead.

How did I get to be here?!

Yesterday we arrived in the village of Vatofotsy. A lady had died and the people were on their third day of mourning (meaning that they would bury her the next day). We decided to be culturally-appropriate and just grieve with the people, which for us meant paying our respects to the family, having quiet conversations, and not teaching any lessons until the next day. I decided to steal away for a minute to go up on the hill and take a photo of the city from above.

“Yip yip yip yip!” I heard yelping from the mountain. I must admit that my first thought was that there was a dog fight, but then I saw a line of mourners coming down the trail, headed to the room where the dead lady lay. I soon learned that as people came in from other towns, as soon as the Vatofotsy was in was in sight, the wailing would commence.

“The brother of the deceased is here to see you,” Mirana informed me as the evening grew dark. A forlorn-looking gentleman shook my hand. “We have heard that you have a camera. Won’t you please come and take a picture of my sister before she is buried?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nowhere in town for me to get pictures developed,” I explained. “You wouldn’t have an actual photo, but just an image on this screen here.” “It doesn’t matter,” the man replied. “We just want to honor her memory by letting her have one picture taken before she is never seen again.” Oh my. How on earth can you say no to that?! “Of course I will.”

Since it is already dark and there are preparations to be made to the body, we make plans for me to come at 7am the next morning to take the picture. Mirana and I set our alarm and doze off – only to be awoken by sobbing and mourning songs that went on all throughout the night.

I awoke to Mirana shaking me. “The men are outside and ready for you!” It was barely light. The 6:30am alarm had not gone off yet. Who knows what time it was. I grabbed my lamba, tied it around my pajama pants, and stumbled outside. I gave the men a solemn smile, and followed them down the muddy path through the mist to the wailing room.

As I entered, the women instantly started primping the body of the dead woman for the photo and the brother started primping himself and the woman’s son. I asked, and sure enough, he wanted a picture with the family and the deceased after I took one of just her laying there…which brings us back to the beginning of this tale.

Finally upright, yet smelling like a distillery, I take a photo of the dead woman. I drift off, wondering if my sister, Cali, ever had any classes on this in photography school… Snapping back to real time, I let the immediate family position themselves near the lady’s head and take another photo, only to hear the brother ask me to then take yet another picture of the woman’s cousin, great-aunt, etc. Soon enough, I have taken a panorama around the room of everyone in there – and quite awkwardly. I can’t exactly say, “1-2-3-smile!” when people are mourning all around me, and am definitely not used to taking pictures of people looking downright morose, but such is life in the rain forest. I finish snapping the photos and head back to my tent, while the mourners hoist the woman onto their shoulders and start the long, slow journey up to the burial place of the ancestors.

So, smelling like alcohol and still in my pajamas, I had this great and strange cultural experience. And that, my friends is how I became the “Photographer of the Dead.”