In the days to come, I often saw this young boy following a similar routine early in the mornings and many afternoons.  Why was he not in school?  Several weeks ago I saw him drenched and huddled across the street under a tree.  He was caught in a sudden downpour.  I motioned for him to come in out of the rain and he came running.  I couldn’t actually carry on a conversation with him because of my language limitations.

Fortunately, a neighbor and friend became my translator.  I learned that his name was Ahmed and that he was 13, the same age as my grandson.  In rooting through trash containers, he was attempting to help his mother by retrieving items to sell…plastic bottles, tin cans and such.

My friend went with me to meet his mother.  I wanted to ask her permission to help Ahmed with his school work.  Upon seeing their living conditions, my thought was how does she do it?  How does this mother pay rent and provide for her family?

Ahmed’s mother gave me her permission and now Ahmed visits me to study after the completion of his daily rounds.  Later he brought several of his friends.  What an opportunity the Lord has laid at my doorstep…to show the love and compassion of Christ to these children and their families.  May our actions daily demonstrate to the least and the lost the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Recently written by a member of MSI’s Southeast Asia Team, for security reasons, her name is not given.

During those days, Scott and I were blessed to get a first hand glimpse of the Kingdom-building impact our missionaries and indigenous ministry partners are having in that far away corner of God’s creation.  Church planting and evangelism in remote jungle areas, inner-city youth centers, Christian schools in the midst of very difficult and sometimes hostile circumstances and Christ-like care of orphaned and abandoned children are just some of the many ministries sponsored by MSI. What a joy it was to be with like-minded believers of various nationalities, to see their witness, sweet spirit, and the commitments of individuals God has called to take the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the uttermost parts of the world.

As we begin 2012, please stand with us through your prayers and financial support of MSI as we reach out, in the Name of Christ, to those in need of a Savior. May we all seek Him and be about His business…may we continue to encourage and strengthen one another in faith, love and obedience to Christ.

In the precious name of Jesus,

His Name is Ahmed…

As the young boy was squatted next to a trash receptacle for a long time, I watched and wondered – was he eating?  When he finally stood, he walked to the next trash container.  I continued to watch as he crisscrossed the street going through each trash can…looking for what?  Once in a while he would pull something out of the garbage and stuff it in the long plastic bag he was carrying.

In the days to come, I often saw this young boy following a similar routine early in the mornings and many afternoons.  Why was he not in school?  Several weeks ago I saw him drenched and huddled across the street under a tree.  He was caught in a sudden downpour.  I motioned for him to come in out of the rain and he came running.  I couldn’t actually carry on a conversation with him because of my language limitations.

Fortunately, a neighbor and friend became my translator.  I learned that his name was Ahmed and that he was 13, the same age as my grandson.  In rooting through trash containers, he was attempting to help his mother by retrieving items to sell…plastic bottles, tin cans and such.

My friend went with me to meet his mother.  I wanted to ask her permission to help Ahmed with his school work.  Upon seeing their living conditions, my thought was how does she do it?  How does this mother pay rent and provide for her family?

Ahmed’s mother gave me her permission and now Ahmed visits me to study after the completion of his daily rounds.  Later he brought several of his friends.  What an opportunity the Lord has laid at my doorstep…to show the love and compassion of Christ to these children and their families.  May our actions daily demonstrate to the least and the lost the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

Recently written by a member of MSI’s Southeast Asia Team, for security reasons, her name is not given.

…standing scarcely five feet tall, with a broad smile and full head of curly hair falling in ringlets around her round face, playing an accordion almost as big as she was, and singing her heart out with hundreds of others as our plane taxied away on the tarmac following a crusade mission in Taipei, Taiwan in the early 1950’s. Her name was Lillian Dickson…and it is now legend in the Leper Colony located just outside the city. It was a poor miserable hovel until she asked the government officials for permission to take it over, to raise funds wherever she could to clean it up and make it what it should be. And by her efforts it became a happy place.

She had invited me to speak in their morning service in the chapel just a few days before, and it was an incredible experience. I witnessed a young man with two good legs and feet carrying another lad on his back, whose feet were so leprous he couldn’t walk, but was holding on with two good arms and hands…and they slid into a long bench with a happy smile. After the service another leper came to me on crutches, clutching a wood carving with stubbed hands, holding it out to give to me. Lillian explained that he had been a wood carver years before, and that she had heard him crying and praying in the Chapel just a few weeks earlier, asking God to help him carve again. He wanted to express his appreciation to those who came to the Chapel to speak, and the only thing he had to give was his ability to carve. But, his hands couldn’t hold a carving knife because the leprosy had done its deadly work, destroying his thumbs and fingers.

As she heard him pray, she thought, “Okay, God, what are you going to do about that?” The next day she saw, as she entered the little workshop on the leprosarium grounds, this man standing at a bench with his buddy tying the knife on his stubbed hands, and laboriously, painstakingly, pushing it against the wood to form the object. The knife would slip and come loose, so they would cinch it together again…and he kept at it ever so long. He didn’t quit, as I probably would have done, and he finally finished. The carving he handed me was the third one he had carved – a Taiwanese shepherd boy and his dog, about 8 – 10 inches high. As he handed it to me, I grabbed his stubbed hands, held them in mine, and prayed that God would reward him for his kindness. I also gave my two good hands in a new way to God that day, to be used in service to Him anyway that He would choose. And this little statue, which is on display in our home here in Atlanta, is a constant reminder that what I have is enough to do what God wants me to do, if I just give it to Him.

Lillian established MUSTARD SEED which ministers to the poor and needy throughout Southeast Asia. The story of what God has accomplished through her is incredibly etched in the hearts and minds of thousands of people whose lives have been touched through the years. It has been a privilege of mine to witness the tremendous work in Taiwan firsthand.

God has laid it on the heart of a dear personal friend, Bill Deans (a committed layman from Charleston, South Carolina), to take over the leadership of this organization. He has had a burden for, and been actively involved in needy places around the world (such as Rwanda, Bosnia and other areas) through Samaritan’s Purse. This has acquainted him with hurting and suffering people – particularly those who have needed medical attention, such as the many small children he has brought back to the United States for open-heart surgery. His sacrificial dedication in being willing to give up his business and be absent from a devoted family for long periods of time, is indicative of the call of God upon his heart and life, and his commitment to follow His leading, whatever the cost.

His wonderful wife, Hope, supports him fully in this vision and commitment. I heartily commend him as a dedicated servant of God to the MUSTARD SEED family…and would pray that under his leadership many others would be moved to support by their prayers and gifts this incredible work in needy parts of the world.

I am reminded of the words of our Lord Jesus each time I think of Lillian Dickson and MUSTARD SEED… “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto Me.” (Matthew 25:40) Bill Deans is now joining their ranks, and I am privileged to be one of his rope holders and prayer partners.

In His Joy and Peace,

“Let’s go where there is the greatest need.  We have only one life to live.”  Lillian LeVesconte wrote those amazing words to her husband –to-be, Jim Dickson, in response to a letter he wrote outlining their options after marriage.  So they were off to Formosa, honeymooning their way across the Pacific to Shanghai in mid 1927.  From there they headed across the Formosa Strait, landing in Formosa, east of south China.  A ten hour train trip brought them to Taipei, then fifteen miles northwest to Tamsui, where there was a mission house. Lillian was homesick for America for the first seven years, but after that she selflessly gave of her strength and resources through typhoons, floods, and wartime bombings to establish hospitals, orphanages, schools and churches and fulfill the “greater need.”

In those first few years of their marriage, Lillian and Jim brought two children into the world, both of whom were buried on the island.  “Missionaries in China lose two out of five,” the doctor said, seeking to comfort her.

“I have lost my two,” Lillian said sadly.  “Now I should be allowed to keep the next.”  The baby garments didn’t come down from the shelf until Ronald was safely born in 1931.  A year later, Ronny’s sister, Marilyn, arrived.

Jim Dickson was principal of the big middle school at Tamsui and later of the theological college.  But at every opportunity, and as the Japanese permitted, he went into the mountains to do evangelistic work.  He also held many conferences and missionary meetings at the Dickson post.  Sometimes as many as sixty people needed meals three times a day, in addition to the students from the school who often seemed to be around at mealtimes.  When someone asked Lillian, “And what do you do for the conference?” it gave her pause. “I am the innkeeper’s wife,” she replied.  At the outset of their missionary work, Lillian kept busy in this way and also mothering and teaching their children.

By 1940, the Japanese secret police were monitoring every move of the Dicksons, and it became imperative that they evacuate.  Formosa had become a key base in the South Pacific. They escaped to Hawaii, slipping into Pearl Harbor on Thanksgiving Day 1941.  Jim immediately sought out American officers to warn them that the Japanese were not to be trusted.  “I have lived with them.  I know how they think, what they think.  They’re going to fight America and win.”  They heard him out, and when he had finished they said, “Nice of you to come.”  The Dicksons shipped out almost immediately, before that fateful day, December 7, 1941,when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor.  They left their children in the care of relatives in the states while they went on to Canada to report to their mission board at Toronto.   The mission board requested that they go to British Guiana, and five of their children’s most impressionable years were spent there.   In studying about the country, Lillian reported to Jim, “It seems to be a wild and woolly place, not very civilized.”  They found themselves in plantation country, with as many as three to ten thousand workers on a plantation.  The laborers from East India were mostly Hindus and Muslims.

Five years later, they were back in Formosa and found themselves up against Chinese communists.  Taiwan had become a province of the Republic of China.  In Taipei, bomb damage was evident everywhere, but fortunately, no bombs had fallen on the mission compound.  It was risky, dangerous; they were under martial law.  “But now we have freedom of religion,” Lillian reminded her husband.  “We didn’t have that under the Japanese.”

Lillian wanted to contribute to their work in some way. “I’ve got my Martha work organized, but I want to do some Mary work, too.”

“Go for it!” Jim said, with an encouraging smile. From that moment on there was no stopping Lillian, who earned the title “Typhoon Lil.”  All around her she found unbearable poverty, leprosy, head-hunting, tuberculosis, the selling of little girls into prostitution- people without hope until she brought it to them-and government corruption.  At one point someone said to her, “Where are your projects going to stop?”

“Why should they stop anywhere?” Lillian demanded. “Do we think that God can supply two dollars and not three dollars? Or that, when we see a hungry or sick child, He may say, ‘you don’t need to care about that child-you’re doing enough already.’  Is any need, anywhere, beyond the love of God?  And if it is His concern, should it not be ours?”

“You can’t take on the whole world!” people argued.

“I can’t,” Lillian agreed, “God can.”

Lillian never learned to say no to need.  Since it was God who supplied the money, physical strength, and emotional competence, she insisted there was always more where they came from.   When she tried to explain to those who marveled at what was taking place, she said, “It’s just that sometimes I feel as if I’m being pushed – sometimes into trouble, sometimes out of trouble.”

Someone responded, “Woman’s intuition.”

“Or an angel at my shoulder,” said Lillian.

Dr. Kenneth L. Wilson lived with the Dicksons in Taipei, and from that capital city traveled throughout the region with Lillian to record the story of her life, told in the biography Angel at Her Shoulder.  This moving story tells of Lillian at work bringing medical care and food to thousands in isolated mountain villages, helping lepers regain dignity and the courage to go on living, rescuing thousands of babies and little children, always ministering to the physical and spiritual needs of uncounted thousands of unfortunates.  She established orphanages and leprosariums.  She visited prisons.  At the urging of Eleanor Doan from Gospel Light Publishing, who visited the Dicksons and saw the work firsthand, Lillian formed a board and incorporated her work, calling it Mustard Seed, Inc.

“It will take faith,” Lillian said, “faith as a grain of mustard seed.  ‘If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you’ (Matt. 17:20).”

At one point, Lillian organized a mobile clinic.  On every trip the doctors found dozens of cases of tuberculosis.  Only rest, proper hygiene, and good nutrition could help, and these were beyond the means of the mountain people.  Lillian went to the American Aid office for guidance. “The problem is as big as the sea,” she was told.  “Anything you can do would be like taking out only a bucketful.

“But because I am a Christian,” she said, “I must take out my bucketful.”  Such is the legacy of Lillian Dickson.

by Clarence W. Hall

A few years ago the Board of Foreign Missions of the Presbyterian Church in Canada heard curious reports about the wife of one of its ablest missionaries on Formosa. Lillian Dickson, whose husband is Dr. James Dickson, principal of Taiwan Theological College, had been going about the island cutting official red tape, snatching boys from prison and girls from parents who were selling their daughter into prostitution. She was also reported to be traipsing off into primitive regions to visit aborigines who are only a step removed from headhunting. And she spent much time rehabilitating victims of Hansen’s disease, and establishing orphanages and churches all over the island.

It was not that the Board disapproved of such a spate of good works. It was simply that they were being performed by the wife of one of the Board’s missionaries — without the Board’s approval, guidance or support.

Queried about her activities, Lil Dickson drew herself up to her full five-foot-minus height, pleaded guilty to wanton compassion. “But what would you do,” she demanded, her blue eyes flashing, “if God pushed you as He’s pushing me?”

Board members closed the fractured rule book and agreed: “What a woman!”

Formosans call her the “littlest lady with the biggest heart.” Says Hollington K. Tong, former Nationalist Chinese ambassador to the United States, “Christianity’s leaping growth in Taiwan, tenfold since 1945, is largely due to the tireless woman who can’t say no to human need.”

Lillian Dickson had not planned to be a missionary. Daughter of a flour-and-feed-mill operator in Prior Lake, Minn., she looked forward to a newspaper career. Then, at Minnesota’s Macalester College, she fell in love with a classmate, and ex-cowboy from South Dakota named Jim Dickson, who wanted to be a minister. By 1927, following Jim’s graduation from Princeton Theological Seminary, the Dicksons were on their way to Formosa. Save for brief furloughs and the World War II years, they have been there ever since. For 19 years Lillian Dickson played the role of “proper” missionary wife — tending her home, raising her two children.

The Japanese, who had held Formosa since 1895, permitted missionaries to conduct schools and hospitals, but they frowned on attempts to convert the people to Christianity. Completely closed to missionaries were Formosa’s mysterious mountains, ranging up to 14,000 feet, where lived some 150,000 fiercely independent aborigines of obscure origin.

Especially savage was the heavily tattooed Tyal tribe, 35,000 strong, who occupied the peaks and gorges of north-central Formosa. Japanese police, unable to curb their headhunting, resorted to ringing the mountain bases with electrified barbed wire. Even so, some Tyals slipped through; a few came into contact with Christian missions and were converted. One such convert was a 58-year-old Tyal woman named Chi-oang, whom Dickson met on a tour of coastal mission stations and persuaded to take a two-year Bible course at a school he had set up in Tumasi.

It was not until after World War II, when the Dicksons hastened back to Formosa, that they discovered how well Chi-oang had used her new faith. Led by Chi-oang, an underground Christian movement had swept through the mountains, resulting in more than 4000 converts. The Japanese had put a price on Chi-oang’s head, burned hymnbooks and Bibles, and beaten and threatened tribesmen who had become Christians. But her converts had remained faithful even in the face of death.

Now, with the war over, Formosan pastors told the Dicksons, hundreds of aborigines were coming down from the hills, knocking at the doors of their churches, asking for Bibles and baptism.

When Jim Dickson announced that he must go and see for himself what had happened, Lil begged to go along. Together they penetrated the formerly forbidden territory, found Chi-oang’s trail everywhere: in whole villages turned Christian, in little bamboo churches being built and in people eagerly seeking further instruction.

Back in Taipei, Dickson said, “Here we have one of the most amazing movements of modern missionary history, and yet I have no time and no one I can trust to make a survey of needs, and no funds to meet them if I do find what they are.”

Lil replied quietly, “You have me, Jim. Let me try.”

Thus began Lillian Dickson’s Christian endeavor which is today transforming the lives of the mountain people. To reach some of the widely scattered tribes of Christian aborigines required weeks. Traveling alone, or with a Formosan pastor and a Christian woman for companions, she got used to climbing washed-out mountain roads to wading streams waist-deep, to being carried on the shoulders of mountain men when water was over her head, to creeping across dangling bridges spanning raging torrents.

Not all tribal leaders were friendly. At one village, conferring with local Christians until past midnight, she was told that in a neighboring community the chief, a huge hulk of a man, had been beating and threatening death to any who became Christian. Outraged, Lil tramped five miles through the darkness, found the chief’s hut, shook him awake. “You’ve been persecuting Christians,” she shouted like an avenging angel. “If I hear of any more of it, I’ll make big trouble for you!” The chief, who could have felled her with one stroke, meekly promised never to molest Christians again. And he didn’t. When I asked Lil Dickson what kind of “big trouble” she had in mind, she laughed. “I don’t know. I hadn’t figured that far.”

Not that she always came through unscathed. She was often ill with dysentery from eating Formosan food. Often arrived home with skin pocked with infections.

But, along with her bruises and exhaustion, Lil Dickson brought back to Taipei a thorough survey of the mountain people’s needs and an unshakable determination to meet them. Most immediate were their physical needs. Because of primitive living conditions — poor sanitation, inadequate diet and lack of medicines — few lived to middle age. Infant mortality was unbelievably high; mothers who bore a dozen children were lucky if more than one survived. Tuberculosis was especially virulent, infecting as many as 80 percent of a tribe.

Dr. Dickson, after hearing Lil’s report, asked, “But where are we to get the money for all this?”

“Let’s make a start,” she said. “God won’t let us down.”

Lil began by writing letters to friends in the United States, describing her mountain people, their staunch Christianity, their needs and her hopes. “Though we have no funds,” she wrote, “we’re going ahead with plans anyway. Pray for us.”

Without a dime to pay for them, she placed orders for materials and drugs, selected a site for her first mountain clinic, began rounding up volunteer helpers, doctors and nurses. Soon gifts of money and clothing began coming from the United States. She wrote more letters, launched more projects and refused to take no for and answer. When she told American-aid officials how TB was rampaging through the mountains, she was informed: “The problem is like the sea. Anything you or we could do would be only dipping at it with a bucket.” Hotly, Lil replied, “Nevertheless, I’m going to take out my bucketful!”

Today, Lil Dickson’s “bucketful” includes over 100 new churches; 100 church kindergartens for more than 5000 youngsters; a school at Hwalien for 60 aboriginal boys of high-school age, where farming, animal husbandry and trades are taught; a similar school for girls, where some 90 at a time are instructed in housekeeping, child care, hygiene, cooking and sewing; a teacher’s training school at Koan-san, which has already graduated more than 200; ten clinics serving 28,000 patients a month, a TB sanatorium and four maternity wards.

In 1947, while visiting the big government leprosarium near Taipei, Mrs. Dickson was appalled at the extent of human misery she found. Jammed together in vermin-ridden shacks, some 1000 ragged inmates were provided with only casual medical treatment, received but one bowl of rice a day, had to do their own cooking over open fires, ate from tattered tin cans, slept on rat-gnawed, filthy pads on the ground.

In charge of the leprosarium was a corrupt superintendent who made it plain that he resented her “interference.” “I’ve only begun to interfere,” she said. “Just keep out of my way.” She appealed to the official in charge of U.S. aid distribution, persuaded him to go to see the leprosarium for himself, finally was given a grant of $300,000, “enough to build eight beautiful new dormitories.” She recruited a doctor to visit the leprosarium every day, talked a German mission into providing a full-time nurse. With the money that came from her friends in the States, she bought drugs, set up a kitchen, hired cooks, bought beds and chairs.

Improvising a suitable room for a library, she stocked it with magazines and books, opened a school with a Christian volunteer teacher, established a Bible-study course, obtained and kiln and started a brickyard where that able-bodied could earn a little money. The leprosarium is now called Lok-Seng-I (meaning Happy Life), a name chosen by the patients.

Another division of Lil Dickson’s varied labors is among orphans. Pathetic casualties from the mainlanders’ headlong flight to the island in the late ’40′s, hordes of homeless and orphaned Chinese children roved the streets, lived by their wits. Boys no more than nine years of age, picked up for petty thievery, were put into prison with hardened adult criminals, imbeciles, perverts and vagrants. In one prison Mrs. Dickson found 140 such boys — dirty, half-sick, undernourished, frightened. Sorrowfully, she said, “They seem so small to have such big troubles!”

She began taking boys out of prison a few at a time, eventually established a school and chapel, and brought in teachers to train the boys in trades and crafts. She also set up homes where older boys could live while pursuing their studies or working in Taipei.

Shortly after beginning her work for prison boys, she established similar houses for little girls. Today, under her care and support are more than 400 children in 12 orphanages and homes.

The question naturally arises: How does one small woman, however energetic, manage to supervise so many varied operations? The answer lies in her faculty for facing the formidable with an indomitable faith, plus a capacity for infecting others with her own limitless compassion. Besides a staff of 15 young Formosans who are the only paid workers at the big warehouse which is her headquarters in Taipei, she has the aid of hundreds of part-time volunteers. Since she takes no salary for herself and most aides are volunteers, she operates with less than a two-percent overhead.

Lillian Dickson’s faith is simple and direct. In beginning a new project for which there are no funds, she tells her workers, “Let’s start it anyway. If God wants it done, He’ll provide for it somehow.”

And example she cites of what happens when one “gets set for a miracle” was the unexpected way that help came when she conceived the idea of and occupational-therapy building at the leprosarium. On a visit to the United States, she took the project to Dr. Daniel A. Poling of Christian Herald, which operates its own charities. “I wish I could help you,” said Dr. Poling, “but our contributors earmark their gifts for rather specialized projects.

The next day Dr. Poling received word that Christian Herald charities had been left a $16,000 legacy for “leprosy work.” He summoned Mrs. Dickson to say, “We have no leprosy work, so you must help us. God must have been listening to our conversation yesterday.”

Although agencies and missions have taken over full or partial support of most of the projects Mrs. Dickson has started, her work’s main support comes from individuals and local church groups in Canada and the United States. With these correspondents — some 20,000 of them at present — she shares her experiences and her hopes in a chatty monthly letter. Those who respond are told exactly what their gifts will buy. Contributors receive pictures of the children they “adopt,” patients they sponsor, churches or equipment they buy.

Years ago Lillian Dickson incorporated her work as “The Mustard Seed, Inc.” Her choice of name refers to a passage in the New Testament: “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, remove hence to yonder place, and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you.” The name seems singularly apt.

Living in squalor is an inescapable plight for tens of thousands who belong to the people group known as the “untouchable caste” in Kolkata (Calcutta), India.  The caste system dictates a hereditary social class which in Hindu dominated India restricts educational and employment opportunities, profession, property ownership and every other aspect of life for those born “untouchable.” The smells of the city match the sight of endless piles of rotting trash which go uncollected – seemingly everywhere.

POVERTY:
lack of money or material possessions: want

Kolkata is recognized as one of the most impoverished places on earth.  Those who are homeless, and literally living on the streets, number approximately two million.  In some areas the homeless far outnumber those living in homes – although the term “home” in India is many times very loosely defined as nothing more than a shack made of anything from cardboard to tin. The everyday noise of vehicles and their incessant horn blowing, as well as the constant din of construction, makes the stench of the mix of “stuff” all the more oppressive to the tens of thousands who are trapped, living on the streets of Kolkata.

HOPELESSNESS:
having no expectation of good or success: despairing

Living in such extreme poverty and squalor, without the prospect of a better life, understandably produces a sense of hopelessness and despair.  Hopeless, that is, until the little yellow school buses with the words “Good News Christian Educational Mission” painted on the side pull onto the trash strewn streets.  Early each morning as these buses make their rounds to pick up hundreds of the city’s homeless street children, they bring with them rays of hope and possibilities.  The buses were purchased by Mustard Seed International in collaboration with our India ministry partners to bring hope to these “untouchable caste” children who are forbidden to attend Kolkata public schools.

What takes place during the next five hours is A MARVEL TO BEHOLD!

The children are taken to their respective schools, most of which are housed in church buildings.  The infants and toddlers arrive at a warm, brightly colored building which has a wonderful loving faculty.  The pre-K through elementary grades are taken to one of the several well-kept, but under resourced schools.  I had the privilege of visiting one of these schools with our ministry partner directors, Subir and Eunok Roy.  The school’s routine was amazing!  The children stepped off the buses into the waiting arms of staff and volunteers.   On my recent visit, a team of college students from Asuza Pacific University, a Christian college in Southern California, were volunteering their time, talents and youthful enthusiasm.

Dr. Claytor seeks to love two homeless street children to Jesus as he visits an MSI sponsored mobile school.

The first order of the day is always a shower and clean clothes – the children love it.  Then they are served breakfast, followed by 3 hours of action-oriented teaching which includes Bible stories, English, math and writing.  After their morning classes, the children have their second meal of the day which is always rice plus vegetables or meat, when available and affordable.  The final hour of the day is a rest time because there will be little rest when these children return “home” on the streets.

Hopelessness is turning into hope as God is blessing MSI  with over 2,000 children being ministered to each and every a day!  Although the street children are attending what we call mobile schools, others attend what are more traditional schools and still other students actually live at one of the schools under the watchful eye and compassionate care of the Roy’s and their staff.

With the support of Mustard Seed donors, these students can take advantage of this Christian educational ministry and achieve what otherwise would not be available to them.  When they leave school they have not only received a good education, but they have a working knowledge of the English language.  This is pure gold in India.  Because of the growth of India’s international business and trade, the overall growth of the country’s economy is about 9 percent per year.  Young people with an education and a good knowledge of the English language have many employment opportunities.

Asuza University student volunteer teaches the alphabet to students eager to learn English.

MSI gives hope to the hopeless by providing “untouchable” children an education based on a Christian curriculum.  But, even more importantly, from an eternal perspective, MSI is providing the hope that can only be found in Christ to the hopeless without Christ.  They are presented with the Gospel and a Christian world view throughout their schooling.  Many graduates come away with the knowledge and assurance of Jesus Christ as their Savior.

MSI will be taking short-term volunteer teams to Kolkata in the very near future.  I would like to challenge those of you with a servant’s heart to make plans to help these suffering children.  Your time and talents are desperately needed to assist the school’s teachers, to help the children, to sing with them, to play with them, but most of all to love them to Jesus.

If you cannot go to Kolkata, I challenge you to support MSI with your prayers and your giving.  We need to purchase an additional “Yellow School Bus” to support this ministry.  Perhaps the Lord is laying on your heart these precious souls as they are trapped in the squalor, poverty, and hopelessness of Kolkata, India.

Bob Claytor,
Director of Missions Development and Evangelism

Unfortunately, it is not uncommon for people to have an attitude of indifference when it comes to the lost and suffering people across town or around the world. Helen Keller once said, “Science may have found a cure for most evils, but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all: the apathy of human beings.” However, for the Christian, this should never be the case nor is this attitude an option.

While we live in a society which strives to be self-sufficient, God has shown mercy and grace to each and every person He created through the death and resurrection of His Son Jesus Christ on the cross…whether we acknowledge it or not. For those of us who know Christ as our Savior, we are commanded to reach out and demonstrate a Christ-like compassion to the world around us. Our mission may be next door or in far away places or even within our own home.

The foundation of Mustard Seed’s mission is in response to Jesus’ Great Commission found in Mark 16:15. In many instances, the opportunities which the Lord provides MSI to share the Gospel with lost and hurting people are similar to those Christ spoke in Matthew 25: 35-40 (NIV):

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”

“Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ ”

“The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’ ”

The Lord will judge our willingness to serve and honor Him. In anticipation of that day, may the Gospel of Grace mark our every step, word and action. Please join with other missions-minded, committed believers, through your prayers and financial support of MSI, as we together advance Christ’s Kingdom.

In His service,

Bill Deans

Dr. Clarke has worked hard to develop a foundation of trust and friendship with the Sudanese people and that foundation gives him and the staff greater opportunities to minister to the physical and spiritual needs of the people in Akot.

I was privileged to be one of those traveling to Akot, along with Bill Deans and another team of 4, during April of this year. I have tagged this trip my “M and M” trip, not that we consumed the tasty candies but, because the trip was characterized by the many Miracles and Mind-blowing experiences we witnessed. Among the miracles were two babies, both born very premature and weighing less than two pounds. Understandably, they immediately captivated our attention. Both, though very fragile, were doing well, being fed through improvised “NG” tubes and breathing on their own. The only explanation was the miraculous work of the Holy Spirit and the tender loving care by a terrific medical team whose only high-tech equipment was a warm blanket. One baby was released to go home after 7 weeks; the other, just over a week old, is still too weak to be released but is doing well.

In addition to the babies, there was a boy with broken bones after falling out of a tree while cutting firewood, several children with high fevers, and a variety of diseases that are common for those living in that region of Africa. We were so privileged to observe the totally dedicated doctors and nursing staff that literally work 24/7. Dr. Clarke, the medical director, is such an ideal fit for this hospital as he plays the role of both doctor and friend to the suffering people of Sudan. He is well respected by all. The team of Kenyan missionary nurses is just as dedicated; all have become experts in giving care with very little in the way modern resources.
While so many miracles were abounding around us, we were also captivated by the mind-blowing opportunities that are present, no matter where we turned. In meetings with the government officials, they were literally begging us to come and help them even more. There is no limit to the freedom with which we can operate in a country that is thought by many Westerners’ to have limited access.

This makes our main purpose for being in Sudan so easy. Whether it is healing their physical needs, being a friend, or educating their children, our main goal is to share the gospel of Christ, and disciple people into mature believers. Whether it is our hospital chaplain who visits with each patient daily, the local pastors who work directly with the hospital, or Dr. Clarke, the message of the gospel is shared boldly at the Akot Medical Mission, the surrounding villages and beyond.

The Akot Medical Mission is so worthy of your prayers! It is also worthy of your financial support. Mustard Seed International has no major underwriters for this ministry other than your gifts. We are not just looking for million dollar gifts, but also for anything you can give – we are trusting God’s people will be faithful with His resources that He has entrusted to them. Please, please consider giving to this vital, literally life-saving ministry.

Finally, plan to go and see this miraculous and mind-blowing ministry for yourself! Doctors, nurses, teachers, and anyone who can hug the neck of a hopeless person are welcome in Akot. Just come and see!

Dr. Bob Claytor, Volunteer

As published in the Post & Courier, October 16, 2011

When William Deans asked Chief Dut of the Dinka people if he could extend the property of the medical clinic to the little airstrip, the chief thought for a moment before he replied.

“Bill,” he said in accented English, “if you can think it, it is yours.”

And so the Akot Medical Mission in South Sudan ensured it has easy access to the small aircraft that swoops in with supplies and, periodically, personnel.

Begun in October 2006 by Mount Pleasant-based Mustard Seed International, a Christian, all-volunteer ministry, the Akot clinic has become an all-consuming focus of Deans, Mustard Seed’s president, and a vital player in the lives of South Sudan’s residents.

Since 2009, its medical director, Dr. Clarke McIntosh, has contended with South Sudan’s 25 percent child mortality rate, malnutrition that affects about half the population and a high demand for basic medical care in an impoverished country that lacks infrastructure and basic social services.

Christian faith is what drives Deans and McIntosh. The men are responding to a clear calling, they said, and have devoted themselves to the task at hand: to improve the lives of the region’s people and introduce them to the word of God.

Missionary’s life

The clinic has served people of all ages, male and female, providing inoculations against disease, treatment for injuries, surgeries for cataracts and other maladies, pre- and postnatal care and, when possible, preventive medicine, according to Deans.

It’s the largest project undertaken by Mustard Seed International since its founder, Lillian Dickson, died in 1983. And since Deans took over, it has relied on individual donations and volunteerism. The organization has no payroll, he said.

But it does have friends and collaborators.

Volunteer doctors and nurses have traveled to Akot from the U.S. and other parts of Africa. Volunteers worked together to expand the clinic compound in 2006, laying the foundation, making 1,000 bricks out of dirt with a little cement mixed in and assembling roof trusses from mahogany imported from Uganda and Kenya.

Before Deans joined Mustard Seed in 2002, he had spent many years doing mission work in Africa and Bosnia. He has been associated with the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association since the 1970s and befriended Graham’s son, Franklin Graham, who is the longtime president and CEO of the Christian aid organization Samaritan’s Purse.

Deans was in Rwanda in 1994 during the civil war, helping on medical missions. The next year, Graham asked him to travel to Bosnia, where the two men wondered at man’s inhumanity to man, Deans said. In Rwanda, the Hutu people, armed with machetes and other manual weapons, slaughtered 800,000 Tutsi’s with brutal directness. In Bosnia, during the civil war, the violence was a constant, insidious threat, he said. Snipers positioned atop hills fired randomly at Sarajevo’s residents, picking them off with detached precision. Bodies would lie in the streets for days, untouched for fear of another sniper attack.

Deans was there to refit the intensive-care unit at Sarajevo Hospital, receiving and coordinating the distribution of supplies, he said. He paid visits to the children’s wards and asked a local doctor about conditions there.

“What are some of the things here that children can’t be treated for?” Deans wanted to know.

“Everything,” the doctor replied.

“What about congenital heart defects, what happens?”

“They just die.”

In 1996, Deans met two children, Majo and Nasiha, not more than 10 years old and each with heart failure. Nasiha couldn’t walk to school. Majo’s lips and fingernails were deep blue; his heart could not pump a sufficient amount of oxygen-rich blood.

Deans, who had connections at the Medical University of South Carolina Children’s Hospital, made arrangements to send the two children to Charleston for emergency treatment and secured funding to cover the travel costs from Samaritan’s Purse.

Terrified, the children flew to South Carolina for surgery. When Majo woke up, he demanded a mirror. Deans and the hospital staff were bewildered: a mirror? Someone gave him a compact, and when the boy gazed into it, a broad smile stretched across his face.

Later, Deans and the others discovered the significance of that smile: On the airplane, Nasiha had reassured Majo. “After your surgery, your lips will be as pink as mine,” she had said. Today, the children are doing well.

Taking charge

The improvised transport of sick children was repeated, and other hospitals started to help, Deans said. By 1998, he had arranged stateside medical care for 65 Bosnian children.

He had been traveling back and forth between the U.S. and Eastern Europe every couple of weeks, finding host families through his church, East Cooper Baptist, and churches in other cities.

In November 1999, exhausted, he returned from Bosnia for the last time. A few months later, he was contacted by someone in Toronto. “We’ve heard about you,” the man told him, then invited him to become president of Mustard Seed International, then a languishing Christian nonprofit based in Pasadena, Calif.

Deans demurred, citing family obligations. But three years later, another invitation came his way from Mustard Seed, this time with a special offer: He could move the headquarters to the Charleston area.

“How can we not do this?” Hope Deans asked her husband. “It’s everything the Lord has prepared us to do.”

In 2002, Deans took charge, moved the organization to Mount Pleasant. Two years later, a Florida doctor who sat on the board of directors asked if the organization would take over the Akot clinic. Deans traveled to South Sudan, witnessed a medical mission in desperate need of improvement, then returned to recommend that the charity take on a new challenge. In December 2004, the board agreed.

A year was spent planning the upgrade, and crews worked nine months building and furnishing the structures. A construction company from Spartanburg provided consultants; a dozen craftsmen from Kenya worked with about 60 Sudanese laborers. Small planes delivered badly needed supplies. Solar-power generators produced electricity. Cement was mixed by hand. The whole project cost about $1 million, Deans said.

That October, the first volunteer medical team arrived from Dawson Memorial Baptist Church in Birmingham, Ala.

On the ground

Clarke McIntosh of Anderson has felt the pull of Christian mission work since he was an adolescent, he said in a satellite telephone interview. But then a medical career took hold. He attended MUSC and worked in academic medicine and private practice.

In the mid-1990s, he accompanied Deans to Sarajevo on a weeklong mission trip, then returned to his career. More than a decade later, mission work once again was on his mind when Deans asked him to visit the Akot clinic for a couple of weeks to check it out.

It was a perfect fit, McIntosh said. “I enjoy the people. I get the chance to do some teaching and preaching as well as the medical part of it, and I enjoy that aspect. … I do enjoy being with them, and they respond to someone who enjoys being with them.”

When his tenure in Akot began in 2009, the clinic served one to three patients a day, he said. In September this year, the daily average was 25.

“Things have changed a lot,” McIntosh said. “The community has really responded to having a doctor here. Nurses have been here and doing a very good job, but having a doctor gives the clinic prestige in the eyes of the community and the eyes of the state.”

The challenges are immense, and death is ever-present, he said, but satisfaction abounds.

“It’s always very gratifying to see these patients, who are very close to death, who you do bring back,” McIntosh said. “And that is a routine event for us here. We’ve probably, in the last two weeks, have had 12-15 children with cerebral malaria, and without us being here, they would have died. It’s not that we’re brilliant, anyone else could have treated them.” But McIntosh and his team were there and ready.

Much is improvised, he said. McIntosh has become adept at conflict resolution. He has struggled to ensure the operation is sufficiently funded and stocked with medicines and equipment.

The clinic is very much a work in progress, “so it’s much more palpable living by faith,” he said. Sometimes, “if God does not intervene for us, we’re in trouble. I’m put in positions that are just way beyond my experience, way beyond what I know, and I’m learning that I’m just growing inside.”

Impacts

“The biggest single impact is improving the lives of women and children,” Mustard Seed volunteer and former MUSC administrator Ed Kaylor said.

Armed with 19,000 doses of the vaccine to protect children from meningitis, the Akot Medical Mission launched a program to combat the deadly infection, Kaylor said.

And the women’s prenatal program has helped to keep pregnant women and their unborn babies healthy.

Rose Mayol, who lives in Akot and works at the clinic as a supervisor, is one of thousands served by the medical mission. Growing up in South Sudan has been a struggle, she told a film crew recently.

“In Sudan, I don’t know whether it’s good or bad, but that’s where I grow up and I grow in the time of war, we move from place to place, we run from place to place, but as of now we are independent, we are OK, no fighting anymore, no fear. But the life is still tough, the life is still not good,” Mayol said.

Her oldest child, Kout, died of meningitis. When Mayol’s 10-year-old daughter Joy also fell ill, she was taken to the Akot clinic, and treated successfully.

“And that makes me to give great thanks to God and the Akot Medical Mission.” Mayol herself was treated for an ovarian tumor, first at the clinic and then at a hospital in Tenwek. “Now I am healthy and my prayer is that Akot Medical Mission … can do wonders and develop, and develop, and grow.”

Journal Entry — 18 February 2010
Clarke McIntosh, Medical Director, Akot Medical Mission, South Sudan

A most discouraging outing to Mapuordit. When I think about it, not many of the outings I have taken to Mapuordit have been encouraging. We have had a couple of mothers have C-sections and successful deliveries, and there is one acute abdomen of which I do not know the outcome, but the rest have been discouraging.

This one began when Elijah dropped into my room during the clinic hours and asked me to take a look at Mary at the end of the wards. She was admitted with abdominal pain and failure to stool for 48 hours. After clinic, I checked on Mary. Her pulse was 150, her BP 90/45 and her abdomen was rigid. I ran in a liter of saline and her pulse did not come down. As I examined her, I noticed a little girl (3-4) carrying a baby (2-3 months), Mary’s infant son. That is a very normal Dinka occurrence. Often very young children, around this girl’s age, are assigned to care for a younger sibling or cousin. That was very clearly this young Nya’s role and she was good at it. I talked with Elijah and we decided to transfer her to Mapuordit with an acute abdomen and bowel obstruction.

As we were discussing this woman, a family came in saying that a woman had delivered the head of her child but could not get the rest out, so Elijah went to get her. Elijah and Mary Aleck (one of our TBA’s) went for her and brought her back. She was in labor and fully dilated, but no body parts were showing. We watched both women about two hours and then decided to take them. The woman in labor had been pushing for 3 hours without success. We then learned that she had lost two children in this manner, so we decided to transport both.

As we were getting into the car, I held the baby for Mary, but the Nya looked at me and I transferred the baby to her. She smiled. She has a very pretty smile. There were some U.S.-like problems, however. Though we do not charge our patients, Mapuordit does, so they needed to find this husband and get some gurus (money). That delayed us another half hour and in the end there was no money, but a promise to send some the next day. Finally, we were on our way, but then we realized about 45 minutes down the road that we had forgotten umbilical cord clamps, scissors, and IV fluid. IV fluids are hard to hang in the Land Cruiser because the road is so rough, and we had given Mary a lot of fluid in Akot.

On the trip down, the mother in labor provided all the distractions. She kept moaning and pushing (against our instructions, though I am not sure it matters when those contractions hit). Mary spit a lot, held her baby and nursed her regularly. When she got tired, she handed the baby off to the older sister. I kept expecting Mary to vomit. The road down is hard-baked clay potholes. There are spaces of road between the potholes, and the truth is those spaces may technically be longer, but it feels like one continuous jarring bump. I cannot imagine anything more miserable for a patient with peritonitis.

At one point I was called back to check on the woman in labor. I felt that the head had progressed some, but nothing dramatic, and by that time we were 10 minutes from Mapuordit. Mary appeared sick, weak, but okay. We drove to the pedestrian entrance of Mapuordit hospital. In reality both of our patients needed to get as close to the hospital as possible, but we have had the experience of sitting outside the ambulance entrance blowing the horn for over half an hour, so we made sure we had someone going to help us. We drove in, backed up to the out-patient registration area (theirs is covered) and felt good that we had made it down safely and intact.

Elijah got a wheel chair for the expectant mother, but that was the only one available. As Mary started to climb out of the Land Cruiser, she handed me her child and I again handed him off to his sister. I helped Mary out of the back, along with her sister. She took three or four steps and then went limp. We eased her to the ground and then Elijah and I carried her into the “waiting room,” a raised cement platform with cement benches and a roof. (We aspire to have such a waiting room one day.) She started vomiting fecal colored fluid. I went to try to find some IV fluids, but by the time I returned (without the IV fluids), Mary was dead. The baby, of course, started crying, but it was the fear and despair on the face of the older sister as she broke down that touched me the most.

The aunt had a baby almost the same age as Mary’s baby. She was trying to console all three of the children. I walked over to labor and delivery and Elijah and the pregnant mother were on the concrete floor, the head this time was out and Elijah was calling to the mother to push. I applied some fundal pressure and the shoulders were delivered, followed by the rest of this 3.1 kg boy (dhok). Besides a severe cone head and slightly low 1 minute APGAR score (4/8 were her APGAR’s), the child did well. We dried off the baby and delivered the placenta and then were faced with a dilemma. There was no real reason for the family to stay. It would cost them money to stay there and then they would have to find transportation back. Of course, the other family also needed transportation back. The aunt and young children needed to get back to Akot, and so did the dead body.

Death, particularly death in the hospital, is also a tragedy in the U.S., but it is a sterile tragedy. The doctor goes in to the room where the patient died, we talk about what was tried and what went wrong and I console them. The family cries, grieves over the body, and then those in the funeral business come, take the body and make the arrangements. That is not how it happens in South Sudan.

Mary’s body was placed on the mattress where the pregnant woman had lain during the trip down and everyone else (the same crew as coming down) arranged themselves around. I had picked up the dhok and carried him around as they were cleaning mother off and preparing her for the trip back. I handed the dhok to his parents as we got started, but they sent him back to me several minutes later with the request that I hold him. I did not mind. The trip back was quieter, but otherwise the same.

When we got back to Akot, we took Mary’s body and family to the home of her sister. As she got close, the aunt started yelling to the neighbors the tragic news and twenty half dressed Dinka women were wailing behind our car as we finally reached the tukul. Elijah and I got out, though there were no English speakers there and neither of us spoke Dinka well enough to say any words of comfort. I could not help but notice the older sister. When everyone else was wailing and comforting one another, her time of crying, at least for the moment, was over. She was carrying her charge on her right hip, doing her best to console him. We did pray (longko) for the family. They did not understand my words, but they did understand the meaning.

As Elijah pulled the Land Cruiser up to the back door of the ward, we heard this brief, regular beat that persisted after the car was turned off. The right rear tire was leaking air in a manner I had never seen before. It was a deflating end to a deflating trip, but I feel that what we did was important and honoring to God.

A Q&A with Dr. Clarke McIntosh

Q: What made you decide to embrace this particular challenge to spend years in South Sudan at the Akot Medical Mission?

A: My first interest in medicine came as a result of feeling some call to missions. My father was fine with me going into missions, but he wanted me to take a useful skill and from there I started considering medicine. But things came up and I got side-tracked. It was some bad times culminating in separation and eventual divorce that opened the door for me to consider missions again. I knew Bill Deans from going to Bosnia together in the late ‘90’s and I found out about the need for a doctor in Mustard Seed International’s hospital in South Sudan. Bill encouraged me to go over for a week; I opted to go for 3 months instead. I felt a kinship with the nurses and people there from the start. By the end of a month, I had committed for 5 years.

Q: Do you plan to remain there much longer?

A: I have learned the wisdom of James 4:13-15 through experience. Therefore I am cautious in stating what my plans are, but I do hope to be here much longer. I have had a lot of good experiences in medicine, but nothing as rewarding as my work here. I hope to be in South Sudan for the remainder of my life, or at least as long as I am productive. I am sure of this: when I die, South Sudan will still be in need of more doctors.

Q: Could you describe the conditions of the place and its people?

A: Akot is in the geographic center of South Sudan. We are about 8 degrees latitude above the equator and have virtually no elevation, so we are quite warm. We have two seasons: rainy and dry. We have great trees, beautiful birds, and fertile soil. The dominant people group here is the Dinka Agaar. I have heard from 13-20 different sub-tribes of Dinkas. The most famous Dinka is Manute Bol, the 7’6” center. He is a picture of the Dinkas. In our small village, we probably have 20 people 6’9” or above, and most are as thin as Manute and very black. Everyone farms in addition to whatever else they do. Cattle are their most prized possession and many of their names come from the color of cows. I find it telling that the Dinkas have one word (arabia) for all forms of vehicles (bicycles, cars, pickups, trucks) and 99 different names for the various colors and patterns of cows. As many challenges that they have from external issues, the greatest problem in South Sudan is revenge.

Q: What sort of staff do you have assisting you?

A: The hospital opened in Oct 2006 and has been staffed by nurses from Kenya. Two of the three original nurses are still there and the third has been there 4 years. They have persisted through years without a doctor. They are bright and dedicated, committed in their personal faith and to the work we are doing and the people they are serving. Their language skills are excellent. We have a fair number of Sudanese staff, helping with translation, maintenance of the buildings and grounds, cooks, pharmacy, accounting, etc. We are hoping soon to start having some Sudanese nursing students.

Q: How much of your time is spent at the clinic and how much is spent making “house calls”?

A: The majority of my time is spent in the clinic and wards. Though we only have official clinics 5 days/week, we find that our weekends are becoming a continual walk in clinic and we have discussed making some changes to adjust to the needs. We do some clinics in surrounding areas. There is a great need for more, but we need more staffing to do that well, and we find transportation and insecurity often as rate limiting steps in those pursuits. We do go to homes in emergencies, and those arise unpredictably.

Q: What’s the political situation in South Sudan now that it’s a country recognized by the U.N.? Has the conflict with the north cooled down? Is assistance (material aid, etc.) making its way into the region?

A: The government in Khartoum appeared cooperative during the referendum and independence, but its true character has not changed. The atrocities are now in the Blue Nile region, Nuba Mountains, and Abyei. The main effect since independence has been the disruption of supplies, causing a substantial increase in the general cost of living (COL): food, fuel, supplies. Because of the bombing in the Nuba Mountains, thousands have fled into South Sudan, creating refugee camps and problems. We feel none of that in our area except for the rise in COL, but there are no palpable positive differences in the lives of the people since independence. Despite that, optimism remains high.

Q: Finally, describe briefly who you are, the connection you have to Charleston and your former experience as a doctor. What do you think you’ll be doing 20 years from now?

A: My father is from Charleston. I attended MUSC, graduating in 1981. I was in academic medicine for several years at the University of Alabama at Birmingham and Duke, and then in private practice for a number of years that followed. Though I have enjoyed all phases of medicine, I have never felt the satisfaction I have in Akot. The needs are basic, but we see every week people who would have died without us going home. There are plenty of frustrations in South Sudan as well, but I hope and believe I will continue to be a part of the future of the world’s newest country for a long time to come.

We arrived in Paloc about noon. We soon settled on the all but abandoned primary health clinic (PHC) and the people started coming. Eventually the TBA (traditional birth attendant, a midwife with minimal training) came and unlocked the door. She locked the door and left, and we had to call her back. We settled outside, however, because of the heat. Peter Malual gave a devotion to those assembled and we began in earnest. For most of the day, I saw patients and Dr. Rossi manned the pharmacy. There was a desk in the room that I used for an examination table and we found some medicine bags, something I had forgotten to pack. Like Akot, the people in Paloc have been suffering with severe malaria. Unlike Akot, there is not much they can do. As I took the histories, I was continually hearing of people who had been sick for 10 days, 2 weeks, 3 weeks. Normally I am skeptical, thinking that if they had been as sick as they described for that long, they would have come to us, but where can they go. I struggled to get to Paloc with a four-wheel drive vehicle. Acute malaria does not equip you for an arduous hike. All I could do was sympathize with them in their illness. Three of the patients were very ill needing IV fluids. Fortunately I had packed canulae and fluids, but the issue of hanging them remained. We used packing straps looped over the rafter’s and ran in the fluids as we saw more patients. One of the three was a child with severe malaria and vomiting who needed IV Quinine. She and a woman with an abortion (miscarriage) and early shock were later transported back to Akot. We saw around 60 patients and had to leave at 5:30 to try and have some light for the trip home. One of the most memorable of the patients was not one of the sickest. As I was taking the history from one patient, I felt someone stroking my arm. John Kaman is a 2 ½ year old little boy who had malaria. I smiled at him and it seemed to encourage him and he stroked my arm with both hands and laid his head on the arm. Dinkas are fascinated by the hair of kawajas. When it came John’s turn to be examined, I noticed that his right foot was somewhat disfigured, probably an intrauterine accident. He was not limited by it. Indeed, with his eyes he conveyed utter trust. I usually examine young children in their mother’s lap, but we had no chairs for the mothers, so for the little ones, I put them in my lap. John lay their quietly as I examined him. When I lifted him back up, I kissed his head. The surrounding audience gave an appreciative laugh.

Paloc is very much like John. Except when I have gotten stuck, I have enjoyed my visits to Paloc and would like to do it more regularly, but I hate that road and I do not foresee a time when travel to Paloc will be easy. So people will continue to die in Paloc of treatable diseases and at best we will help a little. They would have us come back every week. Indeed, they want us there full time. The needs of South Sudan are so great. “The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few” (Matt 9:37).