by Sr. Margaret Anne Meyer, MMM                         USA                        04.03.2026

Water is a very precious commodity in Africa. I loved listening to it while it is beating down on the roof at night, knowing how good it was doing for the crops. Yet water could also be destructive if it rained too much. Rivers would be swollen and fields of maize flooded. It also created breeding grounds for anopheles’ mosquitoes which caused malaria to strike. One such place in Tanzania was called Mto wa Mbu in Swahili, River of Mosquitos, in English, a place where tragedy often happened.

Life continued more or less the same until November 1982 when severe rains caused a flash flood to occur along the road from Babati to Dareda Hospital. Fr. John Kelly and I were returning from Arusha. We saw a fast-flowing river raging across the road. We tried to cross but the car stalled. We waited a while, praying, and hoping the water level would recede. Instead, the water came into the car up to seat level. We left the car and tried to walk through the flowing water. A large tree stump knocked us down. Father John held on to me with one hand and his flashlight with the other. I asked for absolution because I thought I was going to die. Father John did not give it because he thought I would be hysterical. It was around 9pm. He was taking me to Dareda Hospital because I had developed malaria and did not feel well. By this time, the water was up to our chest, and I felt very unsteady on my feet. I did not think I could walk. Father John told me the dry land was not too far away. Somehow, I managed to turn my body on the diagonal and lessened the force of the water which was raging against us. Father said from then on, “I pushed him out of the water.” We were greatly relieved and thanked God. We obtained shelter in a local house and rescue came the next day. Father John had seen a bus driver passing by and asked him to tell the hospital authorities that we were stranded.
We thanked God for the safe outcome. When Father celebrated the Mass of Thanksgiving, we sang, ‘Be not afraid.’ I know now what it is to pass through raging waters and to be afraid.

During the time of recovery from malaria, I had the chance to visit Sr. Francis Xavier, MMM. She was attending a congregational meeting in Maua. She told me all about Sr. Therese Stanley’s death by drowning. Although this tragic event took place in 1971 in Nigeria, it was still difficult for her to tell me. Sr. Therese was much loved and admired. She had been superior of the novitiate house in Winchester. She was a powerful swimmer, and I had been in the water with her quite a few times. I felt incredibly sad that she had to die in this manner. May she rest in peace.

On hindsight we could have reversed at the ‘river” and gone to our Nutritional and Public Health Clinic in Babati. Sr. Jeane Lynch, Sr. Mechtilde Robinson and a Maryknoll Sister were doing marvelous work there, and after a few more years Sr. Margaret Garnet prepared the way for handover to the local Staff. Sr. Martha Collins, Sr. Joseph Anthony Navin, and Sr. Jeane Lynch had started this preventive health project in the mid 70’s. Sr. Margaret Garnett, who was English, then joined us in Dareda Hospital. She was there when Prince Charles married Diana. We had little dishes of red, white, and blue wildflowers on the table. We all enjoyed a very festive dinner to celebrate the occasion.

We enjoyed our internationality and God’s protection of our endeavors.