Well, it has been a long time again since I have blogged. I think most of you have heard one way or another what has been going on in my life. Let’s just jump right in to it.

The end of May I headed out to Mali, West Africa with a group of students (about 12 in all) from Grace University (the school I am attending in Omaha, NE). Over the course of 6 months we will take 5 classes all centered on learning how to function cross-culturally while applying it. Mali and the US could not be much more opposite cultures. The way we communicate, view life and relationships, and a mountain of other things that we don’t even think about, make understanding each other very difficult.

We are almost halfway through the trip now. We are back in Bamako, the capitol city, after spending nearly 2 months in a small town called Bougouni (boo gun knee). That experience was extremely difficult for me. Perhaps sometime I will outline some highlights for your enjoyment.

Most of the time we spent in the Boug I was ill. The worst was most definitely the malaria. When I was in India a couple of people on the team got malaria. I’d never heard much about it. It’s like a flu times ten, I heard. You get bit by a mosquito, and a bad flu, get better, that’s it. I wish.

There are 4 types of malaria. The type that is found in sub-Saharan Africa (where I am) is called Plasmodium falciparum. Falciparum accounts for half of the cases worldwide and 95% of the deaths.

It started with a few days of a pounding headache till night one I had a fever of just over 100. At this point I was unable to keep down food and my eating ceased. Even water made me a little queasy. Each day I got more nauseous and my fever rose. By day two I could no longer drink water. Since I was the first of three on the team to get malaria, it went undiagnosed and progressed much further than I enjoyed.

By day four my fever was over 104. My stomach was in a knot so tight Houdini wouldn’t have been able to escape. I laid perfectly still knowing that the slightest movement would bring on another bout of endless convulsing over a bowl in an attempt to throw up water that I hadn’t drank for days. Completely dehydrated, my mouth was dry as a bone and cracking and I was unable to salivate. Just a drop of water to relieve my mouth would often send me back into convulsions.

I laid alone in my cement room in an empty house in the middle of Africa for what felt like any eternity that day. Unable to call for help and longing for the hospital. I don’t recall the details of what happened after that but that night the doctor came and hooked me up to an IV with antimalaria meds. After three days of IV treatments I was feeling much better. I began eating and drinking again. It was several days until I was able to eat normally again and the fatigue brought on by the massive annihilation of my red blood cells lasted a couple weeks. After about a week I was able to start doing normal tasks myself.

The rate at which my temperature was advancing and the length of time it had been since I’d drank anything without throwing up more than I put down, I have no doubt that I was hours away from a coma. The onslaught left me in a deep psychological depression for several weeks. Just walking into my room would upset me.

Yesterday I received from my mom the July 2007 issue of National Geographic that featured Malaria. It was a very informative article and I recommend you find it.

Malaria threatens half of the world’s population. Nearly half a billion of the world’s 6.5 billion will contract malaria this year alone. Over a million will die; most under the age of 5; 90% in Africa. In Africa 30,000 children die every day, one every 30 seconds.

Malaria has killed leaders and crippled armies likely since the beginning of human history. It killed a million Union soldiers in the US Civil War. National Geographic states that “some scientists believe that one out of every two people who have ever lived have died of malaria.”

So why do I have no idea about this epidemic sweeping the world? I’m glad you asked. In 1946 the US founded the Centers for Disease Control specifically to combat malaria. They drained millions of acres of wetlands where mosquitoes breed and sprayed hundreds of thousands of homes with insecticide. We could afford it. By 1950 malaria had ceased in the US. In 1955 the World Health Organization launched the largest international health initiative ever to eradicate malaria. Though much was accomplished, the campaign was too ambitious and financing ceased and the program abandoned by 1969. Malaria had been nearly eradicated in many areas like India but came roaring back. Most of sub-Saharan Africa never saw the campaign really get started.

It was at this point that the “world” forgot about malaria and it became another burden of the poor.

I am often reminded of a conversation I had with JD before I left Omaha. JD is someone I admire because he is several years down a road that I would like to follow. He has a heart like Jesus’ that aches for the poor, needy and dying all over the world; even Omaha. He said it is important for people like us, who are able to go to places like this and have experiences like this to relate it to the church in America.

I believe knowledge is the first step to solving problems. This problem got out of hand because we forgot about. It’s not that we don’t care; we just don’t know.

I hopefully I haven’t turned in to the fanatic that always talks about the dying kids in Africa while everyone rolls their eyes and walks away. The children were the last thing on my mind when I was lying in my bed dying. I guess God just keeps throwing me in situations where I’m forced to care. Hopefully I can convey that without the annoyance factor.

I will try to make the next blog a funny Todd story.