Courage

     Are you courageous?  Webster's Dictionary says  of courage:  mental or moral strength to venture, persevere and withstand danger, fear or difficulty.

     What images conjure up in your mind when you think of courage?  Before you read on, please stop and consider this question - what image do you see?

     You may have read the news accounts a few weeks ago about the Christian missionaries who refused to leave a Jordanian village in the face of an ISIS attack.  They paid for their faith with their lives as 12 of them were beheaded.  

     What do you think?  Were these Christians courageous?  Or were they stupid, not leaving their post when forewarned of the impending danger.  

     I witnessed such courage here in Madagascar just last week.  And to be honest, it humbled me.  It made me ask myself, "Am I courageous?"  As well as, "What kind of Christian am I?"

     Let me set the stage.

     The organization Yvonne and I work for has guidelines that we are to follow when we are in the public arena.  This means that while we are at our daily workplace or in one of the organization's vehicles, we have to abide by these standards.

     There are lots of good reasons why these rules are in effect.  Not only do they protect us personally, but they also limit the chances of the organization being taken advantage of or misrepresented.

     So, last week I was several miles from our workplace in one of our vehicles.  I was parked on the side of a narrow, but very busy road waiting for one of our Malagasy co-workers to purchase some supplies.  

     As I waited I was reading something on my lap.  When I looked up I saw a man having a seizure.  This is not the first time I've seen such an occurrence.  I have seen epileptics go through their agony at the prison in Ridgeland and on the streets of Savannah.  I'm aware that there's really nothing you can do for a person in such a state.  You pretty much have to stand by and allow the fit to pass before you can be of any assistance.

     The most dangerous thing for this man was the traffic that streamed by - large 16-wheelers headed to the port, passing within inches of this poor convulsed soul twitching and trembling in the gutter.  

     With all of the people walking around, no body would come close to the man.  Some would glance, a few gazed from the other side of the street, but most merely passed bye.

     So, I left the truck and headed to the man.  My plan was to at least stand by him and flag the traffic to avoid running him over while he uncontrollably squirmed and wriggled in the street.  As I knelt to pray for him it became apparent that something far worse had taken place.

     The first indication was the blood streaming from his mouth.  I had not seen that in other seizure victims.  At the same time he was sucking up dust from the street with every gasping breath, so I gently turned him over on his back.

     As I did so, his left arm was revealed.  It was split in two, like a snapped twig.  Where his forearm was meant to be straight, it jutted in one direction and then to another in the shape of V so that his wrist and hand dangled listlessly.  He had a multiple compound fracture.

     Now this incident was more than a seizure.  It was a matter of life and death because if no one were to help this man get to a hospital he would most certainly go into shock and die.

     Let me add here there is no 911 in Madagascar.  There are no fire departments with EMT's ready to respond to an emergency within minutes.  The fact is, if health care here is an abomination then emergency medical service is non-existent.  Though someone told me they do have ambulances I've never heard one, let alone seen one.

     It may be hard to understand, but for reasons explained above our organization's policy in cases like this is not to put people in our vehicles under any circumstances.  There are no exceptions.

     So, here I stood.  A white man in a foreign land, amidst a crowd of puzzled and frightened black faces who seemed to have no intent to intervene in a desperate circumstance.  Then my Malagsy co-worker returned from his errand.

     He came and stood next to me, waiting for instruction.  Instead I queried him.   "If you were alone," I asked him, "and you saw this man in this condition, what would you do?'

     The reply was short and resolved.  "I would help him."

     So, as the seizure started to wane, my Malagasy friend and I tried to wave down a passing pus-pus (a tri-wheeled self-propelled buggy that serves as a taxi).  One finally stopped and it was apparent that the operator, while willing to help, was very scared.  When it became apparent that the passenger could easily fall from his seat, the driver decided he wanted no part of helping the man.

     Fortunately, another driver stopped and offered his services.  By now a crowd of people had gathered, all shouting what I assume were instructions.  It was a chaotic and surreal scene.

     As my friend spoke to the crowd we found one young man who was willing to sit in the passenger seat with the dazed and groaning man, securing him for a trip to a nearby hospital.

     They drove off and my Malagasy friend and I boarded our truck, headed back to our workplace.  

     I was so struck by the unwillingness of what I would suppose was a hundred people to help that I asked my partner, "Why would no one lend a helping hand?"

     "Mike," he said, "they are scared."

     "Scared of what?" I asked incredulously.

     "They are scared of catching his disease."

     "What disease?" I replied.

     "The one that causes the seizure."

     Well, smart American that I am and knowing that epilepsy is not contagious, I pronounced that, "Seizures are not contagious."

     Needless to say, the conversation went on.  The Malagasy people are afraid of seizures.  My Malagasy friend was every bit as afraid.  Which of course led me to ask, "If you thought you could catch his disease, then why did you help?"

     Again, the reply was quick.  "Because he needed help."

     So, in the coming hours I pondered this event.  I thought, "If someone I knew to have Ebola was in desperate need, would I help him?"  Certainly that's how my Malagasy friend saw this episode and so I started to ponder, "How great the courage?"

     It wasn't until several days later that I found out that encephalitis can cause seizures.  Encephalitis is not uncommon in Madagascar.  So, what I perceived as a Samaritan work paled in the light of the truth.  There was ignorance in my work, but there was true courage exhibited by my Malagasy friend.

     So, I ask you, what is courage?  I can honestly tell you that I have never been called on to make such a decision and as I reflect on this episode I think of the small things that occurred during this trial.  Not the least of which is, "Why did you not put this man in your vehicle and take him to the hospital yourself?"

     I'll conclude with this - thank you Lord that there are courageous Christians who live sacrificially; who do not love their own lives so much that they would shy away from death.  That indeed, no greater love is there than this, than a man would be willing to lay down his life for his brother.