I mentioned in one of my earlier blogs about people we knew from Gympie who were in Malawi in Africa on a 1 to 2 year mission trip. The following story is from their June/July newsletter and was written by Rainald (the dad).
One Day in Prison
I have driven past the Karonga Prison many times. It is almost a funny story, for the prisoners seem to roam freely in the fields where they grow maize, rap and other vegetables. A partly broken down wall separates the road from the prison which seems more like a small farm of 2 acres with a central building and an office block at the entrance. The gate is a branch of a broken gumtree with the hinge broken off, so it just lies on the ground across the path. A solider sits under a shady tree watching the day’s events, seeming to neither worry nor care about prisoners climbing over the brick fence. He is not armed and the whole scene looks quite peaceful, "All is well".
A few days ago, driving past, a couple of "Inmates" jumped over the fence and waved my car down. Winding down the window they asked if I could bring them some soap and maybe toothpaste. Now, they did know me because Lusubilo sends food every couple of weeks as supplement for the sick ones and I had helped deliver it the previous week. You also have to know that like in hospitals, prisoners do not get fed by the Government; neither do they get hygienic products. They have to grow their own supplies, or depend on their family members to bring food and other essentials.
So, that is how I came to visit the Karonga Prison. Rudo, my Malawian co-worker and friend organised two boxes of soap, 180 bars of it and Jennie gave us a couple of packets of biscuits as we drove off. The guards led us to the office building to meet the officer in charge. He welcomed us officially and gave us a half hour rundown on their needs and how we can assist them. We told him that the prison in Karonga is not part of our work, but that we will try to help in small ways. After hearing of our gifts, we asked if we could distribute the soap ourselves and if we could minister the word of God to them at the same time. He happily agreed, commands were shouted and during the continuing conversation I could see through the partly opened door, groups of prisoners being herded into the building next to us. Finally, we were escorted to meet them. A huge steel gate bared our vision, and we had to wait several minutes to enter while some more inmates in their whitish, pyjama like outfits were pushed inside.
The officer in charge asked us to enter and two soldiers opened the gate. Stepping over a bar on the bottom of the door of the steel gate I entered, into a scene which truly rocked me. One hundred and thirty-six prisoners were sitting in a crouched position in a courtyard roughly 20x30 metres. They were all shaven and being in that crouching position made them look more miserable. One side of the courtyard had a narrow building attached to the wall. Two steel barred gates showed the opening to two rooms 15x4m each, no beds, no pillows, only grass mats on a badly worn concrete floor. That was the sleeping facility for 136 men. The brick work all around showed signs of lack of maintenance. Patches of plaster had come off everywhere and the unpainted concrete structures had been stained by years of wet-seasons and dust blown dry times. The far side of the prison courtyard revealed two toilets and two wash-bays. The toilets were just concrete walls, the size of a shower, with a hole in the lid of the underground tank, a bucket of water being the only way to clean up. Because there is neither tile nor paint, the condition of hygiene is at a very low standard. 136 men wash and clean and go to toilet at this facility day in, day out, my heart was gripped with the horrific conditions.
Thirty-one of the prisoners are HIV-Positive and nine have developed AIDS. Looking up, I saw barb wire rolls on the top of the surrounding walls, a lonely flag pole with a sluggish red and green national flag in the centre of the court room and a grass roofed bamboo-structure looking like a kitchen, for there were several pots on burning fires smoking away. A sweetish smell hung in the air, as I followed the officer to one of the corners of the courtyard where there was a simple plank of timber off cut resting on two empty oil drums as a bench. Sitting down the eyes of all the inmates and about twenty soldiers were locked on us.
After a short introduction in Tumbuka, the local language it was over to me. Standing up my heart pounded some what, I felt almost ashamed to tell them that we were here to bring them a bar of soap each. " And despite the unfavourable condition you are in" I continue, while Rudo translated " I know that God and our Lord Jesus Christ loves you and therefore allow me to bring you a portion of His word". I then read Ephesians chapter 2 – in Tumbuka – their language. The Lord had lain on my heart to do so. As a consequence I had exercised and read this portion of scripture again and again:
Pa Chifukwa Ichi Nkhati Ndapulika Na Za Chipulikano Chino Mwa Fuma Yesu Ndiposa Na Kutemwa Kwinu Ku Wose Wanthu Wa Chivita.
That’s verse 15; Eph Ch 2, I encourage you to read that chapter right now and stand in that courtyard with me! Upon finishing the reading all was quiet. Some heads were bowed, others looked straight at me. It seemed a long silence, but as Gods presence was there, a peaceful one. Finally, the officer in charge stood up and addressed the prisoners.
"This man who we call Mr. Vula has come from Australia to help the orphans of this town. He brought his entire family. He made an effort to teach in our language, even though he cannot understand what he reads in Tumbuka. From now on this prison is open to him at any time. He is free to come and free to go. God Bless him."
A slow clap- clap- clap started and ended in a staccato of many hands. We then handed out the soap to each prisoner and the biscuits which were not enough for all of them and I was left feeling terrible.
Thirty-one AIDS affected prisoners came and thanked us for the supplementary food Lusubilo is sending them and they asked if we could supply an ambulance bicycle, for often they are falling sick and sometimes it takes two days for an ambulance to respond, so usually the other prisoners have to carry them the 4km to the hospital. An ambulance bicycle is a converted bike with the back cut off and a stretcher on 2 wheels wielded to the front. I found a business man in Lilongwe who is open to this request; thank you, God and I will be writing an official request. At the other end of the court yard two prisoners stood up and started singing and dancing and praising the Lord for His goodness. In no time two thirds of the men were on their feet, the powerful voices of the African men, stomping of their feet, the swinging of shoulders and hips, clapping of hands with white teeth shining and a smile on their face left me with tears in my eyes and with emotions overflowing that a meagre bar of soap could bring forth such gratitude to our God and Lord!
Have you praised Him today!
Jessica (15) has started teaching an abstinence program to Year 12 students (2 years older than her) at a local high school. Please pray for her.
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