My parents and I spent 5 days at a conference center located just outside of Windhoek that had no internet capabilities, therefore I wasn't able to send my weekly update. The conference center is run by an Austrian, now Namibian, with a beer belly and no capability of buttoning his shirt completely. We were there for an annual conference for African Inland Missions of Namibia. There are about 25 missionaries in the country of Namibia that are with the same organization that my parents are here with. Those 25 couples/individuals represent the States, Cananda, Germany, the UK, and Scotland. Within those 25 couples/individuals are 25 children... Missionaries do know how to raise up families! Of those 25 children that we spent 5 days with, 3 little boys were from Scotland, and I was ready to take them all home with me, however their parents were attached to them pretty well. Children with little accents are cute. One little girl, Erin, who has an adorable British accent, started crying because she "can't get my pants over my tubby bottom".
Poverty, no matter what form it is in, is disheartening to see, but so much more in children than adults. While making rounds with my dad at the local hospital, I met a little 10-yr-old boy David. David had been brought to the hospital by his 18-yr-old brother who was desperate for help. David, and his 11 siblings, were left home alone for days on end as their parents went back to the farm where their extended family lives, and David had no food to eat for 5 days. David's parents are part of a particular tribe in Namibia that have no qualms about leaving their children. David also had a fungal infection on his head that left open sores on his head. I met another boy named Vernon. Vernon had idiopathic esinophilia. A disease in which his white blood cells attack his body for no reason. I met Vernon on a Friday and his grandmother was the only family member there. Katatura hospital, where my dad primarily works, is the last resort for children in the country. It is common for children as young 4 years of age to be put on a bus from their local village and will travel alone for hours on end to get to the hopsital for treatment. To Westerners, this may seem appaling, however many parents have children to care for, farms to run, and jobs to continue in order to put a meager amount of food on the table for the remaining children at home. They call it survival. I met Vernon on a Friday, and by Monday he had succomb to the disease. Even in the States, the disease has a greater than 95% fatality rate. My dad has had to become accustomed to 6 or 7 children dying a week. I still think its difficult for him, even though this has been his reality for more than 9 months.
In other news... despite it being the middle of the dry season, there are still bougainvilleae every where, beautiful, and the clumps of them look like velvet. Its pretty common for fires to break out around town in the fields, but all the homes are made of cement, so no one really gets too excited. Maybe the one fire station in town will respond.... maybe not... :)
I have 2 more weeks here, and I hope to spend some one on one time with my parents. Part of their ministry over here is to host people in their small flat. Currently the front door is a sliding glass door, but I really think a revolving door is more appropriate.
American Football season is starting and I'm ready to get back to the states to watch it! We have a lot of cricket, rugby, soccer, and Australian Rules Rugby. If you ever get a chance, check out Australian Rules Rugby. Very cool. Very rough.
That's all for now. Take care. Eat some Mexican food for me. :)
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