The Rev. Reginald Mortha on taking the time to anoint

Two Bananas and a Glass of Milk

In 1993, when I graduated from seminary, I was posted as a pastor of a small church in a remote town called Uppudi, in Repalle County in the state of Andhra Pradesh in south India. Fresh out of seminary, I was raring to change the world with one of my powerful sermons. I had requested that my Church Committee place me in the remotest part of our synod.  Little did I know what I was asking for.

When I first visited my new parish, I was fascinated by the sheer beauty of Uppudi. It was a small village with its rustic, country-style flavor, green fields, and coconut and palm trees silhouetted against the blue sky. I later learned that Uppudi was just one of eight villages that I had to be a pastor to.

The people of Uppudi are basically agricultural laborers who earn daily wages by working for landlords in the rice fields. They work very hard in the fields from dawn to dusk, earning about 70 rupees per day, which is less than $2.00. They are very poor and illiterate and do not have basic healthcare. The nearest healthcare facility is four miles away; the only transportation they have is a bullock cart. If they were to travel by the bullock cart, it would take them at least three hours if the dirt roads are good – but the dirt roads are never in good condition. The bullock carts get stuck in the rain-drenched mud. In Uppudi, “It’s always raining!”

I was resting one wet afternoon when a boy came running to the parsonage and woke me up. He was breathless. His voice was filled with panic. He was saying something about a baby not doing well. I went quickly with him. He led me through the narrow alleys of small huts with thatched roofs, into the entrance of one hut.  There was a big woman in the house and in her arms was a small, three-month-old baby who had been crying her heart out for quite some time.

I was concerned about my own safety at this stage because, unthinkingly, I had entered the house when there was no male member present; it was not appropriate to do that in rural parts of India.  I asked her what was wrong.  She explained to me that she was giving the baby a bath and that she shook the baby in frustration because the baby would not stop crying. I tried to calm the baby down. I realized that something was wrong with her neck! The baby was not able to hold her head up! When I held the baby’s head up and let it go, it would roll back to the side. The baby was in great pain. I knew that this was really serious and that the baby needed immediate medical attention.  The nearest hospital was three miles away and we did not have any mode of transportation.

I was thinking fast about ways to get her to a hospital as soon as possible, but the mother handed me a small bottle of oil and told me to pour the oil on the baby’s head and pray for her.  I tried to say that there would be time for that later and that we should immediately take the baby to the hospital. But she would not hear of it; she insisted that I should pray first. I put oil on the baby’s head and said a short prayer. After the prayer, I tied a wet towel around the baby’s neck and carried the baby, walking all the way to the hospital. When we reached the hospital, the doctor thanked me for bringing in the baby and told the mother that she should treat her baby gently.  I went home very tired.

That evening, the mother came and brought her husband along with her. I was bracing myself for something out of the ordinary. However, they just came to thank me for helping. They brought me a couple of bananas and a glass of hot milk. It was their way of saying thank you.

After a couple of days, I heard the good news that the baby was discharged from the hospital and that she was doing well. Taking the time to anoint the baby had, in its own way, brought about healing. God was truly working on behalf of this small child, her mother and me.

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