How does the life of a pastor from near Mandritsara compare to the life of a pastor in the UK?

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At the age of eight years, my ten-year-old brother died in an accident. By God’s grace, that day I understood that I was a sinner and separated from my Creator, the God of Love and the Good Shepherd.

At the end of October 1993, I left Switzerland and travelled to Madagascar with 40 kg of luggage and many unanswered questions…

The day started like any other. But before the morning meeting in the surgery department at Hopitaly Vaovao Mahafaly could begin, a sense of urgency arose. A critical emergency was underway:

There is no National Health Service in Madagascar. Services are not free for patients at government or private hospitals. So how do the poor cope, given that the vast majority of the population are poor, or very poor?

It is a hard place to get to, and is separated from Mandritsara by an escarpment covered by dense rain forest and several rivers. There is no road from Mandritsara – if you wanted to drive, it would be almost a thousand miles, travelling through Antananarivo, and the last 70 miles is one of the worst roads in Madagascar (and that is saying something!) Other options are boat or plane