Through a lifetime of ministry Major (Dr.) Dawn Howse has learned to be the unique person God has called her to be.

Though far removed from family and friends back home, I thank God for the opportunities of service I have in this part of the world. My personal mission statement reflects the past 18 years of ministry that have helped me learn who and where I am: “I am a Christian doctor called to teach and heal in a cross-cultural community.”

Tshelanyemba Hospital is situated in a rural area, where donkey-cart accidents claim more victims than traffic collisions. It’s a place where most people, by listening, can tell which car or bus is pulling up outside. It’s a community in which there are unspoken conflicts with traditions (women wearing dresses or skirts having to acknowledge that sometimes jeans can be more “modest”). Yet the people also watch TV programs from South Africa, which are no different in content than those from the United States or Canada. And many families are broken up and torn apart as youthful lives are ravaged and snuffed out by AIDS and young men go off to South Africa or Botswana to look for work-any kind of work.

Life Lessons

At Tshelanyemba, the community has become accustomed to seeing its doctor as a single white female-though some of the elderly think they remember me as a tall male with black hair and a beard (I replaced Dr. Friedli in 1992). The people here have also become used to my quirks. They’re not surprised if I show up in the maternity ward in a bathing suit, which sometimes happens if I’m called from the swimming pool where I enjoy teaching the children (those who are shorter than me).

One of my challenges is to try not to take advantage of being “odd” in order to get away with being contrary-especially on hot, busy days. All of the medical staff are busier these days, with the district hospital having no doctor. Instead, their patients and clients flock here, forcing us to share our own limited resources.

I am also challenged to be humble in attitude and to listen carefully to a patient or staff member before offering advice or treatment. Before I even came to Zimbabwe 18 years ago, someone told me, “For the first year you are in a place, keep your mouth shut and your ears open.” Patience is truly a virtue, and God always gives us enough time to do what is most important.

Cultural Adaptations

I am also learning the value of learning the local language, because it is in its nuances that a culture’s priorities can be found. If words are borrowed from, or are a corruption of, English, then the concept being expressed is probably not that important in the country’s history (though possibly important to the younger population).

In learning the language, I have discovered differences in the importance of relationships in an extended family. For instance, I’ve learned that a cousin really can be as close and “important” as a sibling; that the same isiNdebele word can mean “aunt” or “uncle,” depending on which side of the family you are from; that one should not be surprised if people don’t know their ages, because who celebrates birthdays, anyway?; and that a mother-in-law should definitely not know the first name of the daughter-in-law-that is just too much familiarity. It is also amusing to overhear patients discuss me, reassuring each other that I do know what they are saying and can explain illnesses to them in their own language. This also reminds me to be simple in my approach, as I have to pare down my explanations to basic words the people can understand.

One of the most touching lessons I have learned here is about the stoicism of the local people-their complete acceptance of illness and death as being part of “God’s will.” With my simple and blunt words, I regularly have to tell people they have a terminal illness such as cancer and that there’s nothing I can do to help them, other than offering analgesics and prayer. “Thank you, doctor,” is their only response, and off they go with just acetaminophen or ibuprofen for pain. Then a few days or weeks later, a relative will come asking for the death certificate for their loved one, who died peacefully at home.

Personal Challenges

Being an independent person, accustomed to grabbing few opportunities for solitude among my six brothers, I rarely become “homesick.” But I do miss my family back home in St. John’s, especially when death and, more recently, chronic illnesses have struck. It is also not as easy to come home because I return as a “visitor,” without enough time to adjust to my parents’ schedule, yet uncomfortable with just sitting around as a guest.

There’s also the challenge of fitting in everything that I dream of doing when I’m home on furlough. Remembering to prioritize is a challenge in any culture, on both sides of the Atlantic, in order to “redeem the time.” Yet I am careful to remember that it is my family and my home corps who have supported me, physically and spiritually, during my long sojourn away.

What does it mean to be a “missionary”? For me, it’s recognizing that God has called me to Zimbabwe for a purpose-to grow into a person who resembles his Son, Jesus, just as I would in Canada, but with the added challenge of making sure it is a clear reflection. It’s remembering to avoid giving offence, or tarnishing the image of my Lord-something I can never achieve in my own strength, but in Christ alone.
Bountiful Blessings

I am an incredibly privileged person. I can count many blessings. Let me share some of them with you:

1. I walked to the hospital this morning. The sun was shining and few clouds were in the sky.
• I can walk. Many of our patients are too weak to do so.
• I live near enough to my work to walk there in five minutes. Many must go much further to reach their school or place of employment.
• I have work to do-something not experienced by 90 percent of the population.
• I can use my senses to appreciate nature around me, including every drop of rain that falls in this arid climate.

2. I had peanut butter in my porridge this morning and bakeapple jam on my bread at noon.
• I have food, and nutritious food at that-basic, simple and healthy. Some here struggle to find enough to feed their families each day.
• I have electricity to cook the porridge-at least most days. Many people here still cook over a wood fire.
• I have luxuries like peanut butter and bakeapple jam, and-even more important-a family at home that keeps me in such luxury.

3. Forty children came swimming this afternoon.
• We have a small swimming pool (9 metres × 4 metres), in which we can cool off during the dry days with temperatures of 38 degrees C.
• We can keep the water clean by buying chlorine in Botswana. That implies the luxury of a vehicle, fuel and foreign currency.
• I can interact with children and teach them to swim, giving them a life skill and survival technique.

4. I can e-mail friends and relatives back home.
• There is electricity and phone service today. We have been able to pay our bills for another month.
• I have access to a laptop computer, kindly provided by the Canada and Bermuda Territory.
• I have many interested supporters who help sustain me in my work.

by Major (Dr.) Dawn Howse
Tshelanyemba Hospital, ZimbabweCaptions

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New twins were born on Christmas Day

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Dawn with one of the new sheep being raised to develop the hospital’s self-sufficiency