Mamas without Babies

There are many joys to the Community Development work to which God has assigned us. One such joy is meeting all the people who really care about those who are less fortunate, sharing Christ's love in tangible ways. They come in all heights and weights: social workers meeting the needs of indigenous people in the state of Chihuahua, folks who "have" giving to those who "have not", teams coming to help on specific projects, missionaries who serve in remote tribal locations, missionaries who serve in support capacities, believers reaching out with their time and resources, as well as all those who are praying for all the above.

However, on the other hand there are tragedies we see that leave us shell-shocked and hurting. In September, we had the privilege of visiting a single mom in Oregon who is sewing clothes for NTM Mexico's Mamas and Babies project. At the end of our visit, she said she wanted to contribute financially toward our ministry here in Mexico. We asked if we could use her $100-plus donation to buy cloth diapers and powdered infant formula. She agreed. One of the missionaries here in town is sewing strips of fabric to the diapers so they can be tied at the sides (we're told that many tribal moms don't want to use diaper pins because they're afraid they will hurt their babies.) While waiting for those diapers to be ready, we went ahead and took the formula to the Tarahumara Coordinator's Office (TCO). You may remember from an earlier blog entry, when pregnant tribal ladies come into town to have their babies, they almost always go to this office for help. These women and their families usually come to town with no more than the clothes they are wearing, what they can carry in their arms, and very little money.

We entered the TCO with big smiles as our arms were laden with the cans of formula. We were met by a man who had just returned from the mountains. He had the misfortune of being designated to carry two babies who had died from malnutrition back to their homes for burial. Our smiles quickly faded. One baby was 11 months old; the other was 2 years old. Their mothers had brought them into town from their two separate villages about three weeks prior for treatment. Treatment came too late. Did these babies die because their mamas were poorly educated about nutrition? Did they die because the mamas lacked resources and didn't know how to ask for help (they were both mono-lingual, non-Spanish speakers)? Or were they too proud to ask for help? Or did they believe their babies had been cursed and were basically leaving them to die? We don't know the answers to these hard questions.

The man who transported the babies to their burial grounds looked at the small cans of powdered milk and with an obviously heavy heart said the cans of formula were "salva vidas" ... meaning "life-savers." Then he told us when one of the social workers at the TCO learned that one of the babies was placed in the casket without clothes for the lack of money, she told the mother: "Come, we have clothes for your baby. You can dress your baby." Those clothes were some that had been donated to the TCO by the Mamas and Babies project.

As we drove away, we cried for the babies, for the mothers and for the man who had the heart to do the tough job.