Feed My Sheep

Over the past number of weeks, many people have been asking us about the impact of flooding in Mozambique. There has been a small amount of flooding in Maputo. Yesterday, Laura and I noticed a floor of water flowing through dozens of caniço homes in Alzira's neighbourhood.

The major flooding -- the emergency that has been broadcast on the international news -- is occurring primarily around the Zambezi river in central Mozambique, perhaps 500km from our home.

David Morrison is a missionary colleague from Toronto who is based in Malawi, bordering Mozambique to the northwest where this major flooding has been occurring. He has been assisting with the relief effort by bringing trucks of maize meal and the Bread of Life to starving refugees, and shares the following glimpse of his trip into Mozambique's newly-established refugee camps last week:

It is 4 a.m. and we are barely awake as we load the last few relief items into what is already an overloaded Pinzgauer to begin our seven-hour journey back to Mozambique. Our convoy will bring hope and 17.5 metric tons of maize flour to some of the thousands who are suffering in the flood zone in Mutarara district. I’m accompanied by three of our national church leaders: Timothy, Ali and Samson, who are squeezed in among beans, clothing, soap and salt, as well as supplies to sustain us on the journey, like clean water and 100 extra litres of petrol.

The rains this week have made the roads more challenging. We drive slowly and stop to navigate our way through each washout before proceeding. The strength and maneuverability of the Pinzgauer get us through many difficult patches of flooded road. We see field after field of destroyed crops, collapsed houses, and several refugee camps with grass huts close together on isolated pieces of high ground. Our pastors in the back are bashed around as we make deep ruts in the muddy road. Mud shoots down the sides of the truck and splashes up on the windshield. After about 10 kilometres of driving, with heart beating fast, I am soaked in sweat from maneuvering the truck through the challenging conditions.

We are carried by the strength of God, and His grace sees us through the borders and to our first destination -- a refugee camp we visited the previous week. A place of great despair and suffering.

We pull off the road into the camp and are warmly greeted by the village headman and the other leaders. They are grateful that we have kept our promise to return, and look eagerly to see what we have brought. All are gathered and take refuge from the blazing sun under the shade of a large tree. Our church leaders begin singing praises to God.

The community is so welcoming. The people are so hungry. They tell us that already one person has died from hunger.

I start to cry -- the situation before me is too overwhelming. Tears of sadness for the people’s suffering mix with tears of joy knowing that on this day everyone will be filled. I hide behind my camera and start taking pictures.

Moments later the truck in our convoy pulls up… and stops! The people's despair is quickly lifted from their faces. The songs of worship grow more passionate. Hope has arrived!

Until now the camp had been overlooked. For weeks its inhabitants have been hungry, eating grass, roots, bugs and lily bulbs from the crocodile infested flood areas. People are sick with malaria, dysentery, eye infections, skin infections and coughs. I see many babies with puss oozing from their eyes. Children have bloated stomachs and wear rags. Many of the young ones have nothing to wear at all.

I watch the village headman as the truck approaches. His face is filled with disbelief. Can this be true? Is this really happening? Is this food for us? For a moment he looks stunned, but moves quickly to make a plan to ensure that the supplies are distributed fairly.

Over the past weeks these people have stood in this very spot and watched as many trucks similarly loaded with relief supplies drive right past them on route to Mutarara. They have become used to being passed by. I share with them that Jesus knows their pain and He does not pass them by. I proclaim verses from Romans 8: “Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship, or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword... or floods? No, for I am convinced that nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God.”

People listen intently to the message and are wanting more.

The mood in the camp is changing. There is hope, peace and joy. Revival has come! Praise be to God!

The 287 families are called one by one to receive food. All is done with order and without any fighting. As well as 50 kilograms of maize flour which should sustain a family for a month, each family receives a portion of beans, soap, salt and some clothing. The children who are naked receive theirs first. Those children in rags also take priority and receive new clothes. The patient wait for hope lasts several hours, after which we continue down the road to the next camp.

David Morrison lifted the spirits of these battle-weary refugees by reminding them that nothing -- certainly not a flood -- can separate them from the love of God. That same chapter of scripture, Romans 8, also includes the encouragement that "we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him." That may be hollow comfort for the people of Mutarara district right now, but its truth can be observed seven years after similar life-endangering flooding struck southern Mozambique.

The community of Khongolote has been a central point of our ministry here. It was there that Laura and I helped to lay bricks of a church building in 2004. It was also there that we held a micro-enterprise training course last fall. And it is there where Mario and Samuel will begin implementing the village-based savings and loan program.

That community would not have existed but for severe flooding seven years ago that washed away homes in other communities. Africans are resilient people. They are survivors. The sun will come out, the floods will recede, and the seeds of new life will germinate and sprout up amongst the muck of this tragedy.