Curiosity, Mud Balls, And The Power Of Play ...

My new friend in the top image is working hard to re-design Malawi's health certificates - a simple task filled with discovery.  Yes.  Those forms are confusing.    

My buddy in the bottom image is finding joy in an evolving match of mud ball.  

There seems to be an international rule.

Kids find a way to transcend challenges each day.

I know the sound of hundreds of hungry children crying will remain with me for some time.

The sound of African children laughing and playing will linger as well

When I see a child rolling an old, rusty bicycle wheel simply for the pleasure of watching the hoop bounce through the countryside, or a young Malawian boy smiling as he samples fresh, hot, roasted corn that has been cooked over a dented, steel car rim filled with burning wood, or a group of kids kicking a tattered, dirt colored ball toward a wooden post that serves as a goal on a field that is converted in their hearts to a great soccer stadium, I think of the power we all hold in our minds.   

I am reminded of the old adage: "One man's junk is another man's treasure."  

This seems to apply both to physical goods and emotional experiences.    

I think about the perspective and expectation we bring to our day.

It is easy to get lost in our reach for what we don't have.  

If we allow it, kids with little to no material wealth, yet a joyful, open spirit shake our world.

Kwashiorkor ...

The image above reflects a child in a state of nutritional crisis - in this case, "Kwashiorkor."

Before this trip, I had never seen a child's skin stretched and swollen like this.  It is quite incredible to see the body's response to food disruption.  

A portion of the children who experience a substantial nutrient deficit for a sustained period of months develop this type of painful "edema."

The impression (dent) shown in the child's right foot remained visible for several minutes after Dr. Manary, the Founder and Director of Project Peanut Butter, pressed his thumb against the skin on the child's foot and held this pressure for about five seconds.

Fortunately, this child's condition, "Kwashiorkor," may be relieved in less than a week with a nutrient rich diet of "Chiponde."

Several of the children at yesterday's clinic were not able to walk because their feet, ankles, and shins hurt so much.  

At this point in medical history, scientists and doctors do not know why some children develop this condition and other children grow very, very thin and lose lean muscle and other body tissue.  This is a mystery that has been debated for decades.  

Dr. Manary is conducting a series of research projects to better understand and prevent these conditions.  He has a team with a Malawi born nurse, a U.S. doctor, and a volunteer collecting stool samples from hundreds of twins in Southern Malawi.  This medical team transports liquid nitrogen in the back of a four-wheel to one local village after another to immediately freeze the "specimens."  Through this process, Dr. Manary hopes to determine if certain flora or other "gut" conditions influence symptoms and conditions associated with severe acute malnutrition.  Each of the twins in the test are provided with special nutritional support.

It is incredible to watch this type of intensive research and treatment occur in a remote, isolated, and poor region of the world.

The Tales Of Our Lives ...

I met Abott Jackson in a small village near a clinic this week.

He has lived fifty five rich, full years.  

Through his eyes the landscape and cultural flow of Malawi has shifted and evolved.

For over thirty years, one powerful leader ruled this country.  

Today, a new form of democracy is being tested.  

Slowly, roads are built.  Health care takes little steps forward.  Industry and the hope of employment calls from the increasingly sprawling cities.  

The sense of "community" Abbot has known for so long is stretched and stretched.  Phones, TVs, and other tools have made the world smaller, more connected.  

Yet, all around Abbot, farming still dominates the flow of life - tobacco, corn, and other crops are grown in one short rainy and semi-fertile season.    

For most of the year, the countryside is brown, barren, and dry.  

Life can be a struggle.  

Abbot's face and eyes reflect much.  

There is a joy, a strength, and a sense of reflection that captured my imagination.

  

Walking, Wishing, Praying For Food ...

At each village clinic this week, the number of children and caretakers seeking food and medical support escalated substantially.  

Today, the team screened about six hundred children at two sites.  

At times, the scene was quite frenetic.  

I can't imagine walking for two hours and then waiting with hundreds of other women and screaming children for two to five hours for a chance to see a young doctor to gain possible admission to a program that provides free magic food that may save my child's life.  

I remain in awe of the determination and spirit these women demonstrate.   

One must learn patience and gain comfort with flexibility in rural Africa.  

I am reminded of a phrase uttered all over the world.  

"Yes.  It is possible.  God willing."  

Rarely, a day flows as expected.  

Surprises are the norm - some pleasant, some not-so-pleasant. 

Fortunately, many of the kids who arrive at the clinics remain outside nutritional crisis.  

Yesterday and today, doctors and nurses associated with the project I am working with "enrolled" about a hundred severe and moderately malnourished children in their monitored, home-based, therapeutic feeding programs.  

Enough nutritionally rich food ("Chiponde") is provided to feed each enrolled child through a week to two weeks, until he/she returns for testing. 

I am told most of the children "enrolled" will die if they do not receive immediate help.  

Right now, Malawi is deep in the stretch of "Hunger Season."

Many mothers I interview share stories of extreme poverty, a complete lack of resources, no food, and many mouths to feed.  

It is common for children to get just one or possibly just two small meals a day.  Often, all children receive are small amounts of corn (nsima) and other vegetables. 

The still images above were taken in between my documentary efforts with a video camera.  I am very challenged to communicate the emotion and character attached to this critical work.  

Each day, I am stretched in many ways - emotionally, creatively, technically, and physically.  My experience, however, is nothing compared to the struggle all around me. 

At many moments each day, I see and feel a sense of desperation and hope in the sea of mothers who come together with a common goal - an embrace of compassion.  

Yesterday, a blind woman with no husband and two young children came to one of our clinics.

Despite her physical handicap, she supports her small family on a tiny farm.  She told stories of tending her crops by feeling her way through the fields with her sensitive hands.  Her daughter led her to the clinic to seek extra food.  

One cannot help but reflect on the blessings we experience each and every day.

  

In The Midst Of The Wave ...

Each day, after singing together and listening to health lectures, woman, children, and other caretakers line up to gain a doctor's assessment and, if they qualify, special nutritional support.

The children are weighed.  Their height is assessed.  A review of their health condition is completed.  

The process is quite amazing to watch - hundred and hundreds of kids moving along a well worn path.  

Fortunately, the great majority of the children in the lines are hungry, but reasonably healthy.  The children who are not in crisis do not qualify for the "Chiponde" therapy.  Despite a long walk from their home, often several hours on dusty paths, and hours of waiting, this is "good news."

In the midst of each wave of women, children, and colorful African cloth, one finds little moments of magic.

This morning, this young child caught my attention.  

I love the embrace of her siblings foot and the sense of "Africa" reflected in the procession.

They Come Seeking Help ...

The pictures above show a few of the thousands of children who come each week for screening and support.  

In the first image, Heidi, one of the program's senior doctors, is working with a young child who experienced "wasting."  The child's name is "Kondwani."  She was born on June 30th of 2007.  She ways just 5.3 Kg.  This child has "severe acute malnutrition."  With four to eight weeks of  "Chiponde" (peanut paste, milk powder, vitamins, vegetable oil, minerals, and sugar), children in this type of condition have very high odds for survival.  It is remarkable to watch children with little energy, limp, and somewhat lifeless re-acquire a bit of their "light" when they first taste the magic, nutritionally dense paste.

In the second image, a grandmother is holding a fourteen month old orphan named Amina.  As is true for close to 1,000,000 children in Malawi, Amina's parents died from HIV.  At this point, Amina is quite small for her age and height.  She too has severe acute malnutrition.

The third image portrays "Jirane."  She is three years old.  The man in the picture is her twenty three year old brother.  Her mother passed away last year.  Her father is working in northern Malawi far, far from home.  There are six children in the family.  The two older siblings, a brother and sister take care of the other four children.  Unfortunately, at this time, they have no food.  You may note the incredible swelling on "Jirane's" legs.  This is "Edima."  When a child experiences a prolonged period of malnutrition, their ankles, head, legs, and arms may swell.  In many cases, the swelling is so strong that the skin becomes shiny and sometimes breaks open.  Fortunately, this condition may be corrected relatively quickly with nutritionally dense foods.  In one to two weeks, with Chiponde therapy a child's Edema may be gone.  Then, the child is left with loose skin for a short while.  The clinical team feels hopeful that Jirane will fully recover.

The last image reflects the state a maln0urished child may move toward - little energy, upset, uncomfortable, eyes somewhat lifeless.  This child was able to eat and start on nutritional therapy.

All of these kids are vulnerable.  They don't have access to more than one or two light meals a day - typically mushed corn that is still left from last years harvest.

On many weeks, the clinical team screens one to two thousand children.  As we move farther and farther into the "hunger season,"  more and more children and mothers or other caretakers appear in long winding lines at the daily clinics.  Chiponde and other nutritional support is provided free to all children who appear to be in crisis - qualified as moderate to severely malnourished.  

Taxi A Go Go ...

Throughout Southern Malawi, bikes are quite common.  

When we drive on the dirt roads, bikes and riders continually swerve into the dirt ruts and paths along the main open space to allow the vehicle to pass. 

If one arrives in a congested area where building and pavement exists, dozens of bike taxis stand ready for passengers.  Standard fees are twenty five to fifty "Kwachas",  fifteen to thirty three cents.  

This "driver" and his loyal friends worked me hard to sell time on that coveted rear seat.

 with 

Yesterday, on the way home from our clinic, we stopped in this same village.  I figured it might be worth hiring a bike taxi to roll me through the small outpost with my video camera up on my shoulder - sort of culturally appropriate "dolly."  Humor evolved.  I hired a large guy with a shiny bike and a well padded passenger seat.  The price?  About a dollar for a long ride in the late afternoon sun.  

As soon as we started, I knew my ride would be an adventure.  The bike I rented had wheels of the "not so round" vintage.  We swerved left, right, left, right, left right and bounced up and down.  I remember my efforts to point the video camera in a somewhat straight manner and laugh.  All part of the journey.

Imagine ...

One of the villages where we work is about thirty kilometers from the nearest road.  At this time of the year, it is wicked hot with short afternoon rainstorms and flash floods.   Within this village, much like many of the small communities in rural Malawi, life revolves around subsistence farming. 

Many families have a small plot of land.  Their entire year's food supply depends on one crop of corn.  The big rains came in November and December.  Right now, the corn is growing near it's mid to full height.   Harvest in about four to six weeks.  

Most of the families in this village are currently our or nearly out of food.

Generally, they live in small, one room structures with dirt or concrete floors.  Fires are used to cook - inside and outside their home.  Often, cloth thrown over the floor is used as a bed.  It is unusual for an individual to have more than one or two sets of clothes.  Shoes are a luxury.  Days are long.  Women work incredibly hard.  Water is often several kilometers away  Firewood and food are challenges each meal. 

Illness is common.  TB, HIV, Malaria, colds, coughs, and infections of other kinds seem to be daily partners for so, so many of the children and adults we work with.  

Last week, there were several cases of Cholera in this child's village.  A tent with an informal barrier to visitors was established near the tiny health center. 

My impression is that the community drives forward with each day.  There is no expectation that life will be radically different tomorrow.  Despite the hardships, one finds a deep sense of community and the type of joy and curiosity children display all over the world.  Culture and customs are strong.    

If you allow yourself to be touched, your heart is stretched.  One feels the deep sense of the many blessings so many of us experience, the unconscious benefits we hold each day in most of the world.  

Poverty is rough.  Solutions to many of these issues are complex.  Yet, there are bright moments.  In areas such as malnutrition, there are major breakthroughs and a sense of progress.    

I constantly feel humbled and encouraged by the experience of watching the doctors and nurses I am traveling with complete each day's clinic.  They are tireless, hopeful,  and committed.  

Even after screening and supporting three to five hundred children in a five to six hour period, they engage further outreach.  We often transport three to six children to the hospital at the end of a long, exhausting day.  

In Malawi, the caretaker and the child check in to the hospital together.  Often, a mother sleeps under the bed of the child.  The nutritional recovery units are packed.  Kids may need to stay for a week to several weeks to recover from crisis.  The great news is that with support and dense nutritional food supplements such as "Chiponde" (the food developed by the doctor I am working with, Dr. Manary), most children survive and move on to stable health.

 

The Precious Bond ...

Over and over, I am struck by the intimacy and bond between African mother and child.  

Kids are wrapped and carried throughout the day - establishing a powerful connection.  They are rarely outside the embrace of their caretaker.

One often sees rows of mothers, each with a child or two children wrapped on their back, walking along dirt roads and small winding paths, gathering wood, water, and food.  

They seem to be in constant motion.

Six to twelve year old girls often walk beside their mothers and carry an infant on their backs if their mother has twins or two young children at the same time.

Many children in Malawi are breast fed until they are two to three years old.  The kids seem to develop the capacity to "self serve" whenever hunger strikes.  

This, fortunately, provides vital protein to many children who might develop malnutrition if they ate only crushed corn, pumpkin seeds, and other common, indigenous foods.

Many of the children treated by the nutrition program I am working with experienced disruptions in this supply of breast milk.  

Often, their mother has become sick, their father has died and the left the family with no resources, or some other event has disrupted the normal flow of their home.  

In rural Malawi, many families live on a thin edge.

Joy Is Where We Find It ...

Yesterday, just before we started work at the clinic, it rained lightly.  Our second vehicle with equipment, the primary doctor, nurses, and other staff was still in transit.  A large crowd of women gathered under a large tree near the open space we work in.

I left my video equipment in the truck and took the opportunity to wander for a few moments near Chikadza Village.  

A charismatic young boy, Marizan (ten years old), and his younger sister, Namiziya (eight years old), offered a warm welcome.   Their father has a small plot of corn nearby.  The survive on little.  Yet, they seem "present" and filled with hope. 

In just a few moments, we shared laughter and a sense of shared discovery.  

I couldn't help but feel their strong bond of closeness.  

I admired their sense of play.  

They stayed near my side for several hours observing the flow of the clinic and my efforts at documentary work.  

I remember their captivating smiles and the bright light in their eyes.  There is magic in our lives if we can hold this sense of "wonder."   

A Path To Health Services ...

Near many rural villages where the nutritional project works, Malawi's government provides basic health services.  In Malawi, there is a health care worker, a "Health Screening Assessor," in most large communities.  The "HSA" provides support and medication for illnesses such as malaria, HIV, and TB.  In addition, these government workers serve as the central government's training arm for hygiene and handle births and other daily life needs for the surrounding villages.  They are paid about $10 to $12 a week - a relatively good salary in rural Malawi.  

Health care support for the entire population is provided free of charge.  

When a child or an adult needs to see a para professional, he or she often travels five to ten kilometers by bike or foot and then waits for a half to a full day to get help.  

The picture above was taken at a busy health clinic - a small brick sided room with a flat roof and an adjacent waiting area filled with stone benches.  The woman with the white cap has waited most of the day.  She is now near the front of a long swirling line of roughly two hundred people.  I sat and watched this procession for some time.  I was drawn to this quiet woman.  She seemed to possess a sense of reflection and peace. 

RUTFs - Medical Relief In Action

My first week in southern Malawi flew by.  Little sleep.  Much heat.  Immersion.

Monday through Friday, we completed five intense, day-long sessions in remote villages - "hot spots" for poverty and hunger.

I watched and reflected as small teams of nurses, doctors, and health screening assessors (HSAs) tested several thousand children for health and nutrution issues. 

My ability to reflect these experiences in the words of this post is limited.  One's heart and head are challenged.  Each child seems to have a powerful story.

In Malawi during Winter months, "Hunger Season" unfolds.

For most families, life is dependent on a single, annual, twelve to fourteen week growing season, and a precious crop of corn.  

Roughly 80% of the population of thirteen million people survives as "subsistence" farmers.

Harvest is typically in April.

The size of each year's crop determnes the difficulty the family will have eating through the entire year.  

In the Summer, a child in Malawi may eat three times a day.  

By October, a child may eat just two times a day.  

By February and March, a child may not eat every day.  

For some children, malnutrition becomes a crisis.  Without intervention, their lives are at risk.

When farming yields are low, the country suffers greatly.  As a result, each year's growing and harvest season is watched closely.  Fertilizer and seeds are subsidized by the government.  

As one might guess, politics, curruption, and beauracracy influence the distribution of many cricial resources.

Last year's crop was not robust.

As a result, at this time in the year's cycle, many families in rural areas are running out of food. The impact of poverty and limited resources for government assistance are evident.

At the end of each day last week, a doctor noted the rapidly expanding group of families in desperate need of support.    

On Friday alone, we screened about six hundred children and added about sixty children to the enrollment of kids under treatment for moderate and severe malnutrition.

The drug of choice? 

"Chiponde" which is comprised of peanuts, oil, milk powder, sugar, viamins, and minerals.  These ingredients are mixed into a paste served to children three to five times a day within their home environment.  The "Chiponde" is free to all children who need this support.

Fortunately, outcomes when a child receives treatment with "Chiponde" (Ready To Use Therapeutic Foods provided by Project Peanut Butter) are quite remarkable.  

Through the last six to seven years, 85% to 95% of the children treated with Chiponde have recovered and remained stable.  I watched repeatedly as strikingly thin children and their caretakers began this therapy.  

Each day is filled with a series of critical commitments for this medical relief project.  Our days start at about 4 AM and finish at about 10PM.  The team eats breakfast at home before departure and then does not break for a meal until mid afternoon.  

Monday through Friday, around 5 AM, three to four teams pack large boxes of food and simple assessment tools into a group of old four-wheel-drive vehicles and depart from the city of Blantyre toward the countryside in Southern Malawi.  

Each vehicle rolls through the dark streets, hugging the left side of the road (a British legacy), headlights tossed up and down by the uneven surface of the road.  

At this time of the year, low clouds and fog typically cover gently rolling landscapes in the early morning.  The sun and heat slowly rise.  By mid morning, I am often dripping with sweat.  

After we leave the apartments where the doctors stay, we stop to pick up a team of nurses and drivers.  Then, we complete an hour to two hours of travel on paved and dirt roads.  The sounds of industry, commuters rushing to work, and city life fade.  

Vehicle problems are common.  In the last six days, we experienced smoky brakes, a flat tire, a broken differential, problems with the starters, and a series of unexpected challenges with simple movements along muddy roads.  This is Africa.  One cannot expect travel to roll forward as planned on a regular basis.

Project Peanut Butter works in the same locations on the same days each week - a consistent rotation.  

In the countryside, on the day of a specific "clinic," women, older children, and other caretakers walk for hours, some up to fifteen to twenty kilometers, with young infants to arrive at the start of each session.

By the time a Project Peanut Butter team arrives at each site, it is about 7:30 AM.

Long, winding lines of caretakers, often thin, young mothers, each holding one to three hungry, screaming children, await the start of the clinical session.  

Mothers come searching for community interaction, support, assessment, relief, reassurance, and hope. 

Fortunately, many children, despite the poverty and other challenges faced by their family, are not in need of emergency relief.  These kids are screened and encouraged by the health team to continue to check in.  

Other children are in a state of crisis.  These kids desperately need help - they may be "wasting" (very, very thin) or exhibit "edema" (swelling).

When the Project Peanut Butter teams arrive at each site, the nurses lead the women in discussion of health topics.  

Next, there are a series of songs, educational in nature with local melodies and much improvization.  The harmony, clapping, and sense of unified engagement is powerful, uplifting.  If I close my eyes, I can almost forget the sense of urgency and concern all about me.  The mothers and other caretakers seem to enjoy the transformational spirit of this ritual.

Then, the doctors and nurses break into pods with scales, height, and other measuring tools.  The rush begins.

Hundreds of women pack into lines leading to each "station."   The Project Peanut Butter Team works with the local Health Sceening Assessors to weigh, measure, interview, and review the status of each child's nutritional status.

Primary indicators for health assessment and nutrional crisis are height to weight ratios and lean body mass indexes.  International standards, two and three deviations off of a bell curve, are used to determine if a child is in need of immediate medical intervention.

Global figures indicate roughly 4% of all children internationally die before they reach five years of age.  In Malawi, the figure is close to 18%.  

I am told nearly half of all child deaths across the world have a direct relationship to nutrition. 

If a child has moderate malnutrion the odds of death go up 400% (four times as likely).

If a child has severe acute malnutrion, the odds of death go up 800% (eight times more likely for the child to die before five yers old).

Project Peanut Butter provides highly nutritionally dense foods for children with these desperate needs.  The therapy lasts six to eight weeks.

Throughout this last week, I was inspired and, at times, overwhelmed by the intensity and spirit of this work.  

All four of the doctors working with the team are incredible - inspirational skills, commitment, and drive.  

I go to sleep reflecting on many moments.  I ponder difficult questions that often hold no clear answers.  

Is there another mammal sleeping in my room?

Is that buzzing sound inside or outside my mosquito net?

What exactly is the "Hair Fertilizer" sold by the local store?

Then, there are the more serious ponderings ...

What is the true cause of hunger?   There are many opinions about this.  

Are there long-term solutions to extreme poverty?   Simply attaining clean water and adequate food are a huge reach for several billion people on our planet.  

What if I lived in a country where the average annual wage hovered around fifty dollars?  Many of Malawi's citizens work for $1 to$2 a day.  Many other members of the population have no income of any kind - they survive on small plots of land.  If I were born into these circumstances, how would I respond to the struggle of each day?  

I think of our health care system.  We certainly have challenges, but in the U.S., we are blessed with an abundance of resources.  The ratio of doctors to citizens is roughly 700 to 100,000.  We spend huge levels of professional staff to support our well-being.   Can I imagine living in a country where there are just two doctors per 100,000 citizens (Malawi's status), a country where Malaria and Malnutrition are the leading causes of death, a country where health care is free, but access to services is hugely difficult.  What if I had to walk for two to three hours to see a lightly trained nurse?  What if the closest hospital was a hundred kilometers from my mud hut and my only form of transportation was my own two feet?

What if close to 15% of the U.S. population was HIV positive?  Would we view this crisis differently?

Despite deep poverty and difficult daily life challenges, joy and laughter and a deep sense of community can still be found all around me.  

Material wealth and professional status are not driving these outcomes.  

How do people find happiness when life circumstances are so rough?  What do they rely on?    

Two days ago, I met a grandmother who works with twenty other generous and compassionate volunteers to support about two hundred orphans.  What life stories!  

The grandmothers, or in local terminology, the "go gos", work in very low paying jobs (often $1 to $2 a day) to earn enough money to pay for food for the hundreds of children they care for.  

Where does this motivation and sacrifice come from?  Africa remains a place where "extended family" and kind embrace remain in force.  

 

Fighting to survive has a way of clarifying one's priorities.  Expectations drive so much of our emotion.

My documentary work is going well.   I am highly challenged to produce video and still images that reflect the power and importance of this work.   We are making progress.

My health and energy are holding up.  My spirit remains engaged and hopeful.  

There are many opportunities for me to learn and try to contribute.

The group I am working with is generous and full of vibrancy.  

A Quick Splash Of South Africa

Landed a few hours ago in "Jo-burg", South Africa.

Tired. Happy. Encouraged.

It is warm, muggy, almost sticky. We are in the midst of an African Summer.

My luggage arrived. I was quite relieved to see both bags in the customs area. One bag was once again opened by a security staff somewhere during transit, but repacked. Thank you.

My cab driver and I had a flat tire during the ride to the airport in New York. Pulled off a delicate cab-switch near the midtown tunnel in New York City. Slush and cold all about. Lots of conversation. Opted out of the opportunity to "spend a few moments waiting for the tire to be changed on the side of the road." Something about an international flight schedule that compelled me to continue my steps toward the airport. Fortunately, my first driver rolled with my suggestions. Switching cabs on the way to the airport an bypassing a large fare is a little like attempting to switch from dating one sister to another. Delicate.

At first, our flight take off schedule looked good. Then, as we increased the thrust on the engines, we experienced a "frozen valve" within some part of the plane's navigation system. The captain spoke about "safety first." His caution my have been lifted by the US Air crash an hour earlier from a New York airport. We sat on the tarmac for two hours. Lots of cramped, grumpy passengers. The hero was some guy in a giant black, puffy jacket who runs a big machine that produces hot air. I pondered his job title. "Director of ... " I suppose every organization needs one of these professionals.

Met some interesting people during the flight.

Travel seems to open up a world of new relationships.

A kind woman from Nigeria working on a mission assignment. We spoke about the power of community and her work with women across the world.

A geo-physicist from Mali. We spoke about plate tectonics, the evolution of "truth" in science, his first experience with research - a four month trip in the Sahara, and his mother's travel to the U.S. which included a broken hip. All part of the journey.

A couple from Manchester, England. They are on a three month "walk-about" and shared their thoughts about trekking and exploring in different regions of the world. They just returned from three days at a incredible international music festival in the dunes near Timbuk2 and a trip through the Dogan and other regions of Mali. Some day!

A twelve-year old girl from "Jo-burg" who went to the U.S. by herself to visit with her mother.  Her Mom is going to school at NYU.  We spoke about her trip and her aspirations. She had a charm and spark in her spirit that was quite memorable. In her mind, America remains a huge, open, confusing, powerful source of opportunity.  

Our plane stopped in Dakar, Senegal to gather some gas and a few passengers. The sunrise over the Atlantic was stunning. I will try to post an image I took from my plane seat sometime soon.  

If all goes well, I will be in Malawi tomorrow.

Tonight, I met up with Mardi, one of the passionate managers of the non-profit I am working with. She just arrived from St. Louis. At home, she is a community nurse. Her care and love for the people in Africa is quite inspirational.

Project Peanut Butter was born about fourteen years ago when Mardi and her husband, Mark, came to Malawi to provide medical support. It took about eight years for the program to begin to show transformational outcomes.

Mardi's energy is contagious.

...

Thanks to all who have written and commented on this rambling blog. Much appreciated.

Off to sleep.

A Child's Wisdom: The Power Of The Moment

I just returned from a walk through the streets of the Chelsea District.

The streets are covered with a light sprinkle of snow. It is quiet.

A cold wind, the type that makes one's ears sting, blows forth.

After a bit of searching, I found some new clothing to replace the lost items.

Then, I returned to my good friend's loft to seek warmth and prepare for my trip to South Africa.

My buddy, Little Campbell, shown here at the top of this "posting," let me know that life is full of opportunities to choose a perspective.

He wanted me to recognize the opportunity to play in his "hood." After all, this should be a priority. No?

When I told Little Campbell about my difficulties with the airline and the problems with the baggage handlers, he paused and reminded me that "Yesterday is history." I told him that I was concerned about the work I need to do in Africa and the equipment I may have lost. He said "Tomorrow is a mystery."

Then, he looked up from his important work of discovery. He paused and said: "You know Jeff. I just focus on the moment, right now, right here. I can't remember what happened a day ago. It's not important. I don't need to be concerned about the days ahead. It all seems to work out. Now, let's focus on what's important. Look at all my cool toys! Play with me!"

I ponder how my perspective shifts through each day. I know I can benefit form absorbing more of Little Campbell's teaching.

Laughter And Empathy ...

I just went through the duffel bag that experienced "travel difficulties" yesterday with TSA, the national travel police.

So far, confirmed missing inventory includes my precious bag of clean socks and underwear, a pair of pants, and a few other items.  

If any of you are traveling through New York in the next few weeks and you wander through JFK Airport, please be on the lookout for nicely folded blue and white boxers, a few pairs of "tighteee-white-ees," and a group of tame white, brown, and black socks.  

At this point, these fine articles of clothing are unsupervised.  They may run off to far corners of the airport.  Please use caution if you attempt to capture these items.  I recommend you call the authorities if you have a "sighting." 

If you wish to laugh, imagine the moment you discover your underwear is spread all through JFK airport.  The good news?  The event occurred at the start of my trip.  My underwear was clean, folded, and ready for the parade.  I put my best effort "out there."

The morning is rushing by.  I need a shower ... and a quick shopping trip to find replacement clothing in New York City.

Travel Bumps And Luggage Bruises

Ah, New York City!   

It's quite cold tonight.  Snow and wind projected.  Tomorrow, weather professionals expect temperatures at seventeen degrees below freezing.  

With good fortune, my flight to South Africa will still depart.

My trip from SF was mostly good.  

A little bump was tossed on the road when I arrived in JFK airport to test my travel spirit.

When our plane landed, I gathered my carry-on bag and walked through the crowded airport to the baggage claim arena.  I stood waiting for my duffel bags for some time.  After about twenty minutes, I started to become restless.  

Then, "it" happened.  My world became a bit less calm.  

A sharp, firm voice came forward from the loud speaker above my head.  

My heart beat quicker.  My thoughts started to race.  

"If Jeff Davis is in the baggage area, please come to the airline office immediately." 

Why was the airline paging me?

I checked to make sure I still had my wallet.  

Perhaps, my luggage missed the flight.

I hoped the message did not concern an emergency with family and friends.

As I arrived in the airline office, I noted a dark skinned, unshaved man in a bright red vest with a large, clear plastic bag in his hands.   

He stretched out his right arm, held the bag up in the light, and asked me if the contents were mine. 

Turns out, he had found my malaria medicine on one of JFK's conveyer belts.  

My name was on the pill canister.  Thus, the ominous message from the airline office.

On one level, I was grateful.  It was kind for this professional to make such an effort to try to connect a stranger with a little canister of greenish pills.  

On another level, I felt a sense of fear.  The malaria medicine was positioned at the bottom of one of my bags when I left the airline counter in San Francisco.

What happened to the rest of my belongings?

I had visions of my duffel bag ripping apart in the conveyor belts system and my gear separating into independent piles for wild rides all through the airport.  Not a pleasant thought.

I acknowledged my ownership, held the bag, thanked the kind gentleman, and went back to the baggage area.  

I stood in silence.  I wasn't sure what to feel.  I figured all I could do is wait.

In about five minutes, my first duffel bag arrived.  The straps were wide open.  The zipper was wide open.  One of my shirts was draped over the top of the bag.  A small equipment sack was hanging out. 

As I looked at my open luggage, I recognized a standard, printed note from TSA, our beloved national security force.  

Apparently, a TSA staff member had opened my bag in San Francisco, rummaged through the contents and thrown the bag back on the conveyer belt for the airplane.  It was clear that carefully replacing the contents in the duffel bag and closing the zipper and re-fastening the clips to hold the bag shut was way, way too much trouble.    

Big bummer.  

At this point, one of the airline staff members saw my bag, threw up her hands, and said "sorry, we have no control of TSA."  

My first emotions were not constructive, certainly not remotely compassionate.  

I so, so wanted to have a "conversation" with the TSA staffer who went through my luggage.

In the end, I believe I found all, or almost all, of my gear.  I lucked out.  I may have lost a shirt and some other clothing as well as other small items, but I think I am "good to go" with regard to equipment.  

I wish I knew what set off TSA's concern.  

One culprit stands out.  All four boxes of pencils, which I packed as gifts for children in Malawi, were torn open.  Perhaps, the United States government has concerns about exporting lead and wood.  These are, after all, very dangerous.  

On the cab ride into the City, I tried to tell myself 'it's just stuff."  Deep breath.  Let it go.

There.  I am ready to roll with the day tomorrow!

In Search Of ...

The closet searching, duffel bag stuffing, documenting, list reviewing, equipment testing, packing, and padding continues.  

Much to do before "lift off" with this documentary project on RUTFs and Project Peanut Butter.

In three days, I depart for New York City where I will spend a day with several friends and my rambunctious, wonderful one-year-old Godson.  

The next afternoon, I fly on to Johannesburg, South Africa where I stay one night.  From there, I travel on a short flight to Blantyre, the second largest city in Malawi.  If all goes well, travel in Southern and Central portions of the country begin the next day.  

Even with strict packing guidelines, I anticipate the need for a strong "ooompa looompa" to help carry my bags to the airport.   

It's frightening to look at the expanding pile of batteries, chargers, cables, and other gear that is needed to keep my bigger pile of equipment working.   

A comedy can be written about this part of the journey.  

Yes.  It's true.  I have just a marginal idea how to use most of this "stuff."

I tell myself to have faith, let this process unfold, smile often, and be prepared to laugh with my many stumbles.  I know I will have moments of uncertainty and humor.  This is learning "real time."  

I do wonder ... 

Can I stop the action all around me and ask for a "lifeline" (call a friend) if I get into difficulty while attempting to produce footage?  

Where do I sign up for a free set of "do overs"?  

What exactly are the words for "please don't panic" in Malawi-ese?

The next three weeks will be an adventure - new steps into the unknown.  

A New Year : New Dreams To Chase

Happy New Year!  2009 is now in full motion.  

My professional time is split between public television (PBS) and film projects and an ongoing engagement with documentary photography.  

On January 14th, I leave for Malawi, Africa to start an exciting media campaign and fund raising project with an innovative, non-profit named: "Project Peanut Butter."  

You can visit PPB's web site at: www.projectpeanutbutter.org

Here's a link to information about this country: Malawi

I will be traveling with Dr. Mark Manary, a legendary pediatric doctor with a specialty in child nutrition, through villages in Central and Southern Malawi for two and half weeks.  

Our goal is to support awareness, advocacy, and fundraising for Project Peanut Butter through a series of short documentary films and other media initiatives.  

Project Peanut Butter has developed a transformative approach that addresses Severe Acute Malnutrition (SAM) with Ready to Use Therapeutic Foods (RUTFs).  

Crushed nuts, vegetable oil, milk powder, vitamins, minerals, and sugar are mixed into a paste and delivered in small containers to families in crisis.  

Through foundation support and private donations, these therapeutic food products are provided at no cost these children and families.  

This is a story of hope, care, and the power of persistence.  

For many years, the survival rate for children near starvation (children diagnosed with Severe Acute Malnutrition) in Malawi was roughly 25%.  Several years ago, the infant mortality rate in the country hovered around 23%.  

Today, there is a national health care program with stunning outcomes.  About 95% of the children who receive Ready to Use Therapeutic Foods (RUTFs) survive and go on to a state of stable health.  The infant mortality rate (the percentage of children who die before age five) has dropped close to six percentage points, with roughly half of this improvement attributed to RUTFs.  

Project Peanut Butter has been transformational.  

In 2007, the United Nations adopted RUTFs and Dr. Manary's community based approach to support children with severe nutritional needs as the global standard.

Still photography and HD Video camera in tow, I pursue a great learning adventure as I explore ways I can support this important cause.