This week our village friends (with the rest of the country) celebrated one of the most important days in their calendar. It is a big event. For those who can afford it, everyone gets a new outfit and new shoes. Women and girls get new jewelry and they ALL have their hair styled. Friends and relatives come from far and near to visit. People cook BIG meals and everyone tries to get a little bit of meat to put with it.
In the past, I will confess, it has not been one of my favorite times of year. Several weeks before the big day, my friends (even people I had never met) came and begged me for money to buy the new outfits. As people started to come into town to celebrate, my porch got busier and busier. Everyone wanted to see the white people, everyone wanted to visit and interrupt school, and everyone wanted free medicine. Frankly, it made me fussy. I felt a little like the Grinch.
This year, we got to celebrate in our new village and we actually have friends here now. Yesterday, I decided to head out into town to check out what was going on. I took my camera with me. I saw lots of people dressed up. Little girls were getting washed up and getting their hair done. Everyone wanted their picture taken. I finally stopped at the hut of some friends – the 2 wives of the blacksmith. With 2 wives, there are a flock of adorable kids, and they LOVE me. They like to run up and throw their little, pudgy arms around my legs. They like to hold my hand and pet my arms. One of the wives just had a baby 2 months ago and the other one is about 15 months pregnant (okay, maybe only 9 months – but her stomach is HUGE!)
I sat with them as they got everyone ready. They were trying to plant (braid) the 3 year olds hair – but she could not sit still. There was too much to see. They tried everything: threatening, bribing, yelling – nothing was working. I was playing with the other kids and taking pictures. Finally they told her that if she sat still and got her hair finished, Gulun-nga (that’s me – the twin mom) would take her picture in her new outfit. That did the trick.
As they finished with her, the 12 (ish) year old girl came out all dressed up. She wanted me to put her make-up on. For some reason, that really touched me. If only she knew that I had no idea what I was doing. Their idea of putting on make-up is not the same as ours. I managed to get it on – and it looked pretty darn good. After that, I had a full time job – helping with make-up, earrings, dresses, and being the official photographer. Busy, busy, busy. Finally everyone was ready. They were SO excited – they could not sit still. We got up and danced a little and I headed off to visit some other people. I left there with an overwhelming feeling like I belonged. I was accepted as part of the group, like an aunt or good friend.
I finished my walk through town, talking and greeting and having a great time. Unfortunately, I didn’t reach all of my friends’ houses. My time was cut short by a sick baby that needed medicine, so I had to go home and help him. Bu the whole evening, I was overwhelmed with a feeling of happiness and thankfulness that we get to be here and be a part of their lives and their celebration. There is nothing like a party to bring the world together.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Jim Anderson: Ambulance Driver
This week we got to see one of Jims other roles here in Guinea – besides that of development worker, father, husband, farmer, and missionary. He put on his ambulance driver hat.
I was sitting at the computer 2 days ago when I heard a big commotion on the porch. I was getting ready to yell out (in love, of course,) I am not working yet – you have to wait a few hours still – when I heard someone crying and moaning. That deserved investigation so I went out to find a man that had been in a motorcycle accident.
Blood was pouring out of his leg – and people were beginning to surround him. The wailing had started – not by him, but by family members. He kept yelling –My leg is broken. Everyone else was yelling – No it isn’t. Be quiet. (African bedside manner is at times hard for me to take.) Considerately, he was moved to the front yard, so he would not bleed on my porch. Anyway, I grabbed some gauze and began to clean the wound. I dug a 1 inch piece of the motorcycle out of the cut, cleaned it with soap, water, and betadine and had one of our friends hold pressure on the wound. It was DEFINITELY broken. I could feel the pieces of bone grinding in my hand as his leg shifted.
By this time, there were tons of people here. His younger sister started wailing and then fainted – causing a big commotion on the porch. Other women were crying. There was much loud discussion about what should be done. People wanted to send for a man here in the village that sets broken bones – but I convinced everyone that this was going to need surgery. (I see MANY people who end up with bone infections from broken bones that are not treated properly – and who end up even 10 years later with pus and fluid leaking from the wound.) I asked about getting a taxi to take him the 1 ½ hours away to the hospital. I was told that in a few hours, a taxi would pass through that may be able to take him. That seemed to be the only plan, but frankly, it was not working for this nurse who is too used to American standards of care. I chatted with Jim and he was more than willing to transport the guy to a big town about ½ hour from us where he would easily be able to get a taxi right away.
We began to prepare him for the trip. I gave him 2 injections – one a powerful antibiotic and then a tetanus shot (thank you to everyone who gives to the medical fund and provides supplies!!!). For pain, he got Tylenol. :^( He also started drinking some Gatorade like drink – which solves so many medical problems on my porch. :^) I wrote a quick note to the doctor at the hospital, explaining what had been done for him and then we splinted his leg with 2 pieces of wood that Jim cut for me.
It was time to load him into the truck – after convincing everyone that he should NOT wait until his wives showed up from the farm. We got him loaded in as 2 of his sons showed up – and the wailing started again. We prayed over him – and off they went. Along the road, Jim met the man who had been driving the motorcycle – but he didn’t look very injured, so they went on and we sent someone else after the driver. The road is very bumpy and filled with pot holes so the going was slow. They had to stop in a nearby town to pass on the news of what had happened and allow everyone to see him and wail.
They arrived in the bigger town and were quickly able to get transport for him to go to the hospital. We have not gotten word yet how he is doing, but are so thankful for the medical supplies that are donated and for God allowing us to be here just at the right time. We are thankful for a great truck that many people helped provide for us. And I am thankful for my husband who is always willing to switch roles and do whatever it takes! He is the best ambulance driver in town!
I was sitting at the computer 2 days ago when I heard a big commotion on the porch. I was getting ready to yell out (in love, of course,) I am not working yet – you have to wait a few hours still – when I heard someone crying and moaning. That deserved investigation so I went out to find a man that had been in a motorcycle accident.
Blood was pouring out of his leg – and people were beginning to surround him. The wailing had started – not by him, but by family members. He kept yelling –My leg is broken. Everyone else was yelling – No it isn’t. Be quiet. (African bedside manner is at times hard for me to take.) Considerately, he was moved to the front yard, so he would not bleed on my porch. Anyway, I grabbed some gauze and began to clean the wound. I dug a 1 inch piece of the motorcycle out of the cut, cleaned it with soap, water, and betadine and had one of our friends hold pressure on the wound. It was DEFINITELY broken. I could feel the pieces of bone grinding in my hand as his leg shifted.
By this time, there were tons of people here. His younger sister started wailing and then fainted – causing a big commotion on the porch. Other women were crying. There was much loud discussion about what should be done. People wanted to send for a man here in the village that sets broken bones – but I convinced everyone that this was going to need surgery. (I see MANY people who end up with bone infections from broken bones that are not treated properly – and who end up even 10 years later with pus and fluid leaking from the wound.) I asked about getting a taxi to take him the 1 ½ hours away to the hospital. I was told that in a few hours, a taxi would pass through that may be able to take him. That seemed to be the only plan, but frankly, it was not working for this nurse who is too used to American standards of care. I chatted with Jim and he was more than willing to transport the guy to a big town about ½ hour from us where he would easily be able to get a taxi right away.
We began to prepare him for the trip. I gave him 2 injections – one a powerful antibiotic and then a tetanus shot (thank you to everyone who gives to the medical fund and provides supplies!!!). For pain, he got Tylenol. :^( He also started drinking some Gatorade like drink – which solves so many medical problems on my porch. :^) I wrote a quick note to the doctor at the hospital, explaining what had been done for him and then we splinted his leg with 2 pieces of wood that Jim cut for me.
It was time to load him into the truck – after convincing everyone that he should NOT wait until his wives showed up from the farm. We got him loaded in as 2 of his sons showed up – and the wailing started again. We prayed over him – and off they went. Along the road, Jim met the man who had been driving the motorcycle – but he didn’t look very injured, so they went on and we sent someone else after the driver. The road is very bumpy and filled with pot holes so the going was slow. They had to stop in a nearby town to pass on the news of what had happened and allow everyone to see him and wail.
They arrived in the bigger town and were quickly able to get transport for him to go to the hospital. We have not gotten word yet how he is doing, but are so thankful for the medical supplies that are donated and for God allowing us to be here just at the right time. We are thankful for a great truck that many people helped provide for us. And I am thankful for my husband who is always willing to switch roles and do whatever it takes! He is the best ambulance driver in town!
Some Things Are The Same the World Over
Some days, it seems we live in the middle of nowhere. We are located in a somewhat remote African village where, as my kids are fond of saying, we are not at the edge of the world, but you can see it from here. We keep in touch with our friends and family by the use of a satellite modem – which is wonderful, but expensive. There are days it is easy to forget that there is a whole world out there and it seems like we could not be more removed from everything that once seemed normal to us. People’s way of life is hard and it is a constant struggle to live. At first glance, our lives could not be more different. Often, though, I see glimpses that make me realize that some things are the same the world over.
I had one such an experience a few weeks ago. I went to visit my friend Isatu. She had recently had a baby and I wanted to pop in and check on how they were doing. I sat in her bedroom with her and we chatted. There were lots of kids outside, playing and making noise. Our conversation headed in a direction that made me remember - I am NOT in America anymore. I won’t go into great detail, for fear there may be young ears listening, but the general gist of the conversation was marital relationships and the lack there of during pregnancy and the 2 -3 years following birth that it takes wean a baby from breastfeeding. (Thus partially explaining why some men have more than one wife!) But I was jolted back to reality by what happened next.
The noise of the kids in the hall and outside got louder. The kids were fighting. I don’t totally understand what the fight was about - I was focused on our conversion. But Isatu’s mom ears were tuned in. She started yelling into the hallway – Who is fighting? Come in here. You guys need to stop fighting or I will send so and so home. Go play nicely. It got quiet for a few minutes and we continued talking. Then the noise escalated again. That was it. She called them all in – That is enough! I told you to play nicely and all you are doing is fighting. If you can’t get along, then you aren’t going to play together. Sana, give me that ball. Your friends have to go home now since you can’t get along. Everyone, go home. You can come back and play when you are ready to play and not fight.
It totally cracked me up, because I believe that I had that exact conversation many times when my kids were younger. And probably moms all over the world were having that exact conversation at that exact moment. It reminded me that most moms are the same and want the same things for their kids. We may have different education levels and different expectations from life, but we all want our kids to be happy and healthy, and for ourselves, we would love a little peace and quiet occasionally. :^)
I also had to smile the following week while I visited her again. The 2 younger boys were going to go out to the farm to see their dad. Isatu insisted that Sana (3 years), the youngest, put a shirt and shoes on first, so she sent Sori (6 years) in the house to get a shirt for Sana. Unfortunately, he chose a button up shirt and he was having great difficulty getting the shirt on Sana, mostly because he started with the shirt inside out. Finally, Isatu had to take over. She got him dressed and instructed him to get his shoes on and off they went. And I realized that not only are moms the same, but so are little kids!
It is great for me to have those moments, because it makes me have more compassion when I get frustrated with the direction people take with the health of their kids or the choices they sometimes make. In many ways, we are the same!
I had one such an experience a few weeks ago. I went to visit my friend Isatu. She had recently had a baby and I wanted to pop in and check on how they were doing. I sat in her bedroom with her and we chatted. There were lots of kids outside, playing and making noise. Our conversation headed in a direction that made me remember - I am NOT in America anymore. I won’t go into great detail, for fear there may be young ears listening, but the general gist of the conversation was marital relationships and the lack there of during pregnancy and the 2 -3 years following birth that it takes wean a baby from breastfeeding. (Thus partially explaining why some men have more than one wife!) But I was jolted back to reality by what happened next.
The noise of the kids in the hall and outside got louder. The kids were fighting. I don’t totally understand what the fight was about - I was focused on our conversion. But Isatu’s mom ears were tuned in. She started yelling into the hallway – Who is fighting? Come in here. You guys need to stop fighting or I will send so and so home. Go play nicely. It got quiet for a few minutes and we continued talking. Then the noise escalated again. That was it. She called them all in – That is enough! I told you to play nicely and all you are doing is fighting. If you can’t get along, then you aren’t going to play together. Sana, give me that ball. Your friends have to go home now since you can’t get along. Everyone, go home. You can come back and play when you are ready to play and not fight.
It totally cracked me up, because I believe that I had that exact conversation many times when my kids were younger. And probably moms all over the world were having that exact conversation at that exact moment. It reminded me that most moms are the same and want the same things for their kids. We may have different education levels and different expectations from life, but we all want our kids to be happy and healthy, and for ourselves, we would love a little peace and quiet occasionally. :^)
I also had to smile the following week while I visited her again. The 2 younger boys were going to go out to the farm to see their dad. Isatu insisted that Sana (3 years), the youngest, put a shirt and shoes on first, so she sent Sori (6 years) in the house to get a shirt for Sana. Unfortunately, he chose a button up shirt and he was having great difficulty getting the shirt on Sana, mostly because he started with the shirt inside out. Finally, Isatu had to take over. She got him dressed and instructed him to get his shoes on and off they went. And I realized that not only are moms the same, but so are little kids!
It is great for me to have those moments, because it makes me have more compassion when I get frustrated with the direction people take with the health of their kids or the choices they sometimes make. In many ways, we are the same!
Can You Hear Me Now?
Jim left this week for his conference in Burkina Faso. I really wanted to talk with him one last time before he left the country, so spent much of my Friday morning debating whether or not I should call and talk to him one last time before he flew out.
Sounds crazy, I know. Why would there be a debate in my mind since I REALLY wanted to hear his voice one more time????
Well, it is like this……
For me to even leave the house, I needed to have the boys pull the solar panels off the top of the Cruiser, where we have them temporarily clamped until Jim builds more racks on the roof. Since they were willing, I decided to go for it. They pulled them off and I headed to town to find 2 guys who wanted to go with me. It took some effort but I finally located them. Off we went.
We have no reception in our town, so getting phone reception requires driving nearly 10 miles and standing under a big mango tree. We arrived at the big mango tree to find around 30 other people there making phone calls as well. (It was market day in the town near-by so the mango tree is busy that day!)
I wandered around in the tall grass, looking for good reception and trying not to be bitten by driver ants or a snake. I finally got through to Jim – and we talked for about 30 second before the line cut. I tried again for about 10 minutes and finally decided that maybe we were out of minutes on the phone. (There is not any way that I know of to figure that out on the phone.) So we jumped into the truck and drove into the near-by town and wandered through the hundreds of people to find the last 2 phone minute cards in town – allowing me 10,000 Guinea franc minutes worth of talking. Then we headed back out to the tree. Voila – the lack of minutes was the problem. There was a big storm coming our way – but I was able to get through to Jim long enough to tell him that I loved him – and he headed off to the airport.
Our friend, Mordeca, wanted to call his sister in the capital, so I dialed the number – and rain started spitting down. As he talked, the rain came harder. I gave him an umbrella and jumped back into the truck to wait. By this time, the mango tree was pretty deserted, as most people had seen the storm coming. There were only about 5 people left besides us. Soon there came a torrential downpour. Mordeca jumped back into the truck. The next thing I knew, the back door opened and 5 people and one baby were trying to jam themselves into the back seat to get out of the rain.
There was NO way everyone was going to fit, so I got out in the rain and opened the very back door for an old lady to jump in. I was SOAKED by the time I got back in. Soon our other friend arrived. Now there were 9 of us jammed in the truck. The rain was pouring down, the lightening was flashing all around, and the truck was getting very hot and steamy from all that hot breath. It was stifling. We waited and we waited. The rain let up a little, so Mordeca jumped back out to call his sister again. I watched him standing out in the rain, under an umbrella, under a huge tree, with lightening flashing all around, talking on a cell phone, and I thought – Now THAT is a good idea!
Thankfully, he finally gave up and got back in. Not long after that, the absolutely thickest streak of lightening I have ever seen smashed into the ground in front of me, followed instantly by the deafening crack of thunder and the ground shaking! It was AMAZING and terrifying. We had been waiting out the rain by nearly an hour by this point. After that lightening streak, I thought, perhaps sitting under a big mango tree was not the best plan ever conceived. But what to do with all of my passengers???? I could hardly shove them out in the rain and lightening – especially the mom with the baby and the old lady. Two people needed to go to the nearby town, and the rest either back to GKB or to a town on the way. I decided that if I was ever going to get home, I needed to drop them all off. So, we turned around and headed back into town.
The rain was lessening some by the time we arrived at the edge of the market. As I off loaded my passengers in the rain and the lightening, I was BOMBARDED by 20 – 30 people who BEGGED me to take them to their homes on the way back. There was NO way everyone could fit. I took 7 – leaving some very fussy people in my wake. I dropped people off in the town not far from us, and ended up picking up more people who wanted to go to GKB. I arrived home about 2 ½ hours after I had left, soaked and muddy – only to find patients waiting for me on the porch.
While I head NO idea what would happen when I went to make my phone call, I knew it would be some kind of adventure – it ALWAYS is. So, it you ever get a phone call from me when I am in the village, you will know that a LOT of thought went into it and you should feel VERY privileged, because it means that that the phone call was worth a LOT of effort.
Sounds crazy, I know. Why would there be a debate in my mind since I REALLY wanted to hear his voice one more time????
Well, it is like this……
For me to even leave the house, I needed to have the boys pull the solar panels off the top of the Cruiser, where we have them temporarily clamped until Jim builds more racks on the roof. Since they were willing, I decided to go for it. They pulled them off and I headed to town to find 2 guys who wanted to go with me. It took some effort but I finally located them. Off we went.
We have no reception in our town, so getting phone reception requires driving nearly 10 miles and standing under a big mango tree. We arrived at the big mango tree to find around 30 other people there making phone calls as well. (It was market day in the town near-by so the mango tree is busy that day!)
I wandered around in the tall grass, looking for good reception and trying not to be bitten by driver ants or a snake. I finally got through to Jim – and we talked for about 30 second before the line cut. I tried again for about 10 minutes and finally decided that maybe we were out of minutes on the phone. (There is not any way that I know of to figure that out on the phone.) So we jumped into the truck and drove into the near-by town and wandered through the hundreds of people to find the last 2 phone minute cards in town – allowing me 10,000 Guinea franc minutes worth of talking. Then we headed back out to the tree. Voila – the lack of minutes was the problem. There was a big storm coming our way – but I was able to get through to Jim long enough to tell him that I loved him – and he headed off to the airport.
Our friend, Mordeca, wanted to call his sister in the capital, so I dialed the number – and rain started spitting down. As he talked, the rain came harder. I gave him an umbrella and jumped back into the truck to wait. By this time, the mango tree was pretty deserted, as most people had seen the storm coming. There were only about 5 people left besides us. Soon there came a torrential downpour. Mordeca jumped back into the truck. The next thing I knew, the back door opened and 5 people and one baby were trying to jam themselves into the back seat to get out of the rain.
There was NO way everyone was going to fit, so I got out in the rain and opened the very back door for an old lady to jump in. I was SOAKED by the time I got back in. Soon our other friend arrived. Now there were 9 of us jammed in the truck. The rain was pouring down, the lightening was flashing all around, and the truck was getting very hot and steamy from all that hot breath. It was stifling. We waited and we waited. The rain let up a little, so Mordeca jumped back out to call his sister again. I watched him standing out in the rain, under an umbrella, under a huge tree, with lightening flashing all around, talking on a cell phone, and I thought – Now THAT is a good idea!
Thankfully, he finally gave up and got back in. Not long after that, the absolutely thickest streak of lightening I have ever seen smashed into the ground in front of me, followed instantly by the deafening crack of thunder and the ground shaking! It was AMAZING and terrifying. We had been waiting out the rain by nearly an hour by this point. After that lightening streak, I thought, perhaps sitting under a big mango tree was not the best plan ever conceived. But what to do with all of my passengers???? I could hardly shove them out in the rain and lightening – especially the mom with the baby and the old lady. Two people needed to go to the nearby town, and the rest either back to GKB or to a town on the way. I decided that if I was ever going to get home, I needed to drop them all off. So, we turned around and headed back into town.
The rain was lessening some by the time we arrived at the edge of the market. As I off loaded my passengers in the rain and the lightening, I was BOMBARDED by 20 – 30 people who BEGGED me to take them to their homes on the way back. There was NO way everyone could fit. I took 7 – leaving some very fussy people in my wake. I dropped people off in the town not far from us, and ended up picking up more people who wanted to go to GKB. I arrived home about 2 ½ hours after I had left, soaked and muddy – only to find patients waiting for me on the porch.
While I head NO idea what would happen when I went to make my phone call, I knew it would be some kind of adventure – it ALWAYS is. So, it you ever get a phone call from me when I am in the village, you will know that a LOT of thought went into it and you should feel VERY privileged, because it means that that the phone call was worth a LOT of effort.
Friday, September 17, 2010
WANTED: A Subabu
We are looking for a subabu for some new missionaries (tubabus or white people). It is a FULL time job with low earthly benefits. See job description below:
Applicant:
- Needs to be on call 24/7
- No holidays or vacation
- Needs to have good hearing and understanding to figure out what the white people are saying when they butcher the language.
- Needs to be patient with their lack of understanding of cultural issues
- Needs to control their smiles and laughing when the tubabu runs to get a paper to write a word down or uses the language inappropriately
- May need to explain the tubabus sometimes strange actions to the village and possibly smooth the ruffled feathers on either side
- Needs to be prepared to get constant requests by other Guineans for help in approaching the white people with a need or sick person
- Needs to realize there is no monetary pay here on earth……
Applicants can go to the tubabus house and apply in person.
I often wonder if our friends who are designated to be subabus for us have ANY idea what they are getting themselves into. God has provided wonderful people in each of our villages where we have missionaries to be people of peace for us. A subabu is a type of go-between for two parties. In Soulemania, they have Kelifah, the pastor there. Here in GKB, we have Sayon and Mordeca, our two young believers. Sayon especially was instrumental in getting us here into the village. Now they both have full time jobs keeping us here. It is nothing formal, mind you. They are just the 2 that we call when we need anything and everything. Here are some ways that they help us:
1. If we need a job done, they either do it for us or find someone who can.
2. If we are looking for something (a vegetable, meat, fruit, bike tire, someone to fix something) they can look for it and let us know.
3. If we are having a problem with kids misbehaving, (the kids in the village, not our kids :)) we call them.
4. If we need someone to accompany us some place, they come along.
5. If we need something from the village –or want to give something to the village- it all passes through them.
6. If I need someone to interpret for someone from another people group, we send for them.
7. When we go to CKY, they take turns spending the night and guarding our house.
8. If we take them to a big town, they help us shop and signal us if they think that someone is jacking up the price because of our white skin.
Of course, the pressure does not just come from our side. Knowing the way of life here, people know who has the closest relationship to us here in the village – so the nationals come at them from the other side. This happens especially with sick people. Every week, sometimes daily, they get requests to bring a sick person to our door, asking for help. People search them out at their houses or farms and they have to leave what they are doing to come. This usually applies to people from out of town, people who are coming when I am not working, or adults who are usually fairly ill. People with sick kids from GKB already know they will be treated with no problems. People from other towns who are unfamiliar with my rules or adults who are sick (since I only am allowed to treat adults who have been treated somewhere else – this as an incentive to get the clinic finished here in town) or people who come in the morning when I am not working usually will show up with one of the guys. If they do come here first without them, and I turn them away, it is not unusual for them to return later with either Sayon or Mordeca.
I can usually tell if the guys think I will deny the request because they look kind of sheepish. I will look right at them and they smile with a "Just give me a chance to explain" kind of smile. I know the pressure is high for them. And both of them, Mordeca especially, seem to have the gift of compassion. If they bring me a sick child who is from far away, and it is morning when we are doing school, they know they have a big fight ahead of them, because I will usually deny the request until the evening. But they also know there is a small chance, if I see the child and see he is REALLY sick, that I will help right away. Mordeca will often say to me – Gulunga, its fever is SO high, just put your hand on it and see.
Of course, there are some benefits to being the subabu. We pay well for work done at our house and we pay in full. And if you work for us, and you end up with a sore back, you get Tylenol along with the pay. No one else in town does that! If we have stuff to give away, we hand it to them. The guys usually come and have coffee with Jim in the mornings – and get lots of sugar to make it sweet. They enjoy the trips into Faranah to accompany us – hey, it’s a free ride! They both got to go to Mamou, where they had never been before, several weeks ago with Jim. They can be fairly certain that their family will get good medical care. And we employ both of their wives, which helps to provide for the family as well.
When they guard for us on Conakry trips, they make a boatload of money (about $1.50 a night) while we are gone. And we always bring back some kind of gift – a can of instant coffee or clothes or something small. And you get an up close and personal look into another culture. You get to hang out at the tubabus house and try their food and see their gadgets – since we have a gadget for nearly everything.
While we often make light of the fact that the guys are overworked, we truly do not know what we would do without them. We pray for them and love them and hope that the pressure put on them and the things they do for us will be rewarded in heaven – since we can never repay them here on earth.
Applicant:
- Needs to be on call 24/7
- No holidays or vacation
- Needs to have good hearing and understanding to figure out what the white people are saying when they butcher the language.
- Needs to be patient with their lack of understanding of cultural issues
- Needs to control their smiles and laughing when the tubabu runs to get a paper to write a word down or uses the language inappropriately
- May need to explain the tubabus sometimes strange actions to the village and possibly smooth the ruffled feathers on either side
- Needs to be prepared to get constant requests by other Guineans for help in approaching the white people with a need or sick person
- Needs to realize there is no monetary pay here on earth……
Applicants can go to the tubabus house and apply in person.
I often wonder if our friends who are designated to be subabus for us have ANY idea what they are getting themselves into. God has provided wonderful people in each of our villages where we have missionaries to be people of peace for us. A subabu is a type of go-between for two parties. In Soulemania, they have Kelifah, the pastor there. Here in GKB, we have Sayon and Mordeca, our two young believers. Sayon especially was instrumental in getting us here into the village. Now they both have full time jobs keeping us here. It is nothing formal, mind you. They are just the 2 that we call when we need anything and everything. Here are some ways that they help us:
1. If we need a job done, they either do it for us or find someone who can.
2. If we are looking for something (a vegetable, meat, fruit, bike tire, someone to fix something) they can look for it and let us know.
3. If we are having a problem with kids misbehaving, (the kids in the village, not our kids :)) we call them.
4. If we need someone to accompany us some place, they come along.
5. If we need something from the village –or want to give something to the village- it all passes through them.
6. If I need someone to interpret for someone from another people group, we send for them.
7. When we go to CKY, they take turns spending the night and guarding our house.
8. If we take them to a big town, they help us shop and signal us if they think that someone is jacking up the price because of our white skin.
Of course, the pressure does not just come from our side. Knowing the way of life here, people know who has the closest relationship to us here in the village – so the nationals come at them from the other side. This happens especially with sick people. Every week, sometimes daily, they get requests to bring a sick person to our door, asking for help. People search them out at their houses or farms and they have to leave what they are doing to come. This usually applies to people from out of town, people who are coming when I am not working, or adults who are usually fairly ill. People with sick kids from GKB already know they will be treated with no problems. People from other towns who are unfamiliar with my rules or adults who are sick (since I only am allowed to treat adults who have been treated somewhere else – this as an incentive to get the clinic finished here in town) or people who come in the morning when I am not working usually will show up with one of the guys. If they do come here first without them, and I turn them away, it is not unusual for them to return later with either Sayon or Mordeca.
I can usually tell if the guys think I will deny the request because they look kind of sheepish. I will look right at them and they smile with a "Just give me a chance to explain" kind of smile. I know the pressure is high for them. And both of them, Mordeca especially, seem to have the gift of compassion. If they bring me a sick child who is from far away, and it is morning when we are doing school, they know they have a big fight ahead of them, because I will usually deny the request until the evening. But they also know there is a small chance, if I see the child and see he is REALLY sick, that I will help right away. Mordeca will often say to me – Gulunga, its fever is SO high, just put your hand on it and see.
Of course, there are some benefits to being the subabu. We pay well for work done at our house and we pay in full. And if you work for us, and you end up with a sore back, you get Tylenol along with the pay. No one else in town does that! If we have stuff to give away, we hand it to them. The guys usually come and have coffee with Jim in the mornings – and get lots of sugar to make it sweet. They enjoy the trips into Faranah to accompany us – hey, it’s a free ride! They both got to go to Mamou, where they had never been before, several weeks ago with Jim. They can be fairly certain that their family will get good medical care. And we employ both of their wives, which helps to provide for the family as well.
When they guard for us on Conakry trips, they make a boatload of money (about $1.50 a night) while we are gone. And we always bring back some kind of gift – a can of instant coffee or clothes or something small. And you get an up close and personal look into another culture. You get to hang out at the tubabus house and try their food and see their gadgets – since we have a gadget for nearly everything.
While we often make light of the fact that the guys are overworked, we truly do not know what we would do without them. We pray for them and love them and hope that the pressure put on them and the things they do for us will be rewarded in heaven – since we can never repay them here on earth.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Driving Miss Dawn -or- Why Everyone Should Have A Chauffer
I confess – our team has a chauffeur. His name is Mr. Bah. Sounds like something out of the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, huh? Well, before you rethink supporting people who spend their money frivolously, let me explain……. Actually, if you have every lived in Guinea, I probably don’t really need to explain. But in the off chance you have not had the blessing of visiting our fair country, let me tell you why having him is a REALLY good idea!
While we employ Mr. Bah full time and he does make trips up to the village for us, we mainly use him when we are in the capital. Driving in Conakry is unlike driving in any other place. Everyone seems to make up their own rules. Two lanes can easily become 4 four if you wish. Someone not going fast enough? Just speed around him on the shoulder on the right side. Need to turn around – just do a u-turn in the middle of the road. It is crazy out there. Mr. Bah has driven in several other African capitals – and claims Conakry to be the craziest. The longer we are here, the more we see order trying to be instituted. There are some functioning traffic lights. There are police trying to keep things in order – and doing a great job at some intersections.
Downtown, things get even more interesting. Certain streets are one way at certain times of the day. I have NO idea which ones they are. Other streets will suddenly become one way – with no warning. Parking is always tight. People are everywhere. When you stop at a light, beggars come up and try to get money. Motorcycles whip in and out of traffic.
Besides being safer, it is much more interesting being a passenger. You get to see all of the shops and what they are selling. One store we passed last week was selling bottled water and mattresses. I was intrigued by the combination. In the afternoons especially there are kids (mostly) who walk in and out of the lines of traffic selling all sorts of things – CD’s, rechargeable phone cards, plastic flowers, insect spray, off-brand Kleenex, handkerchiefs, apples, sesame seed candy (my personal favorite), jelly. That whole scene fascinates me as well. Why jelly? Why insect spray? Who makes those decisions? I suppose it is kind of like those racks you stand by in the checkout lanes in the US with all kinds of random items.
But Mr. Bah’s helpfulness extends way beyond his driving abilities. He seems to know everyone. We will say – I need to find___________________ (we fill in the blank with various sorts of things.) or I need to have _______________ done. Well, Mr. Bah will reply, I have a cousin who can get that for you. Or, I have a friend who does that. He is amazing. He is incredibly resourceful, and very patient. He will wait for several hours for us to finish a task, if necessary. He loves our kids. He never complains when we ask him to do stuff for us. He worries about us and is incredibly protective.
He calls me Mom or Mommy – a term of respect – he calls all of the team women that. Jim is Mr. Jim or Boss. I love to call him on the phone and hear him answer – Yes, Mom. (He is around 60 years old, by the way.)
We try our best to take good care of him and give him a lot of respect. We ask his advice on a myriad of things. We buy treats for his kids and diapers and medicine for his son who is handicapped. We try to pay him well. We help out when we can.
Here are 2 of my favorite Mr. Bah stories………………
1. This one I shared in a supporter update in March. Mr. Bah traveled home with us that trip, driving one of the vehicles. We stopped for lunch in a shady spot and were having sandwiches. We had received a bag of Doritos from the States and had been saving them. As anyone who lives overseas knows, things like Doritos are very special and so we tend to hoard them a little. I didn’t offer any to Mr. Bah, because I have never seem him eating chips before and figured he would not like them – as they are not rice – his normal meal. As we were getting back into the truck, he found the bag and asked what they were. I told him that they were chips from America and that he should try them. So he took a few, and then a few more. Pretty soon, he was munching away. He said, “Mom, these are really good. Someone will have to take the bag away from me.” I am sure my face matched the kids’ faces, as we watched him downing our precious Doritos.
2. The second story is from our last trip to CKY a week ago. I was out doing some shopping and stopped at a fairly nice air-conditioned grocery store. Mr. Bah waited outside for me, chatting with the security people as he waited. I got back into the truck when I was finished and said, Mr. Bah, are you ready to go? He said, Mommy, look at me. I am covered with dirt. I could see some small smudges on the front of his suit so I asked him what happened. He said, I had to urinate, and so I asked where I could go and they told me to go out behind the store. But when I got there, a big dog was there and it was not tied up and it jumped up on me and grabbed me and I thought I was going to have to call you. (As he recounted the story, his voice got louder and he got more distraught – sadly, I got more and more amused. If you could have seem his face as he told me about it!!) Anyway, he continued, I came back out and I told them, if you tell someone you can urinate somewhere, you need to tell them there is a BIG dog that is not tied up.
The poor man was so upset, and I was so amused. Thankfully, I had bought him a Coke so he could have something to drink and settle down.
He is a wonderful asset to our team and I am not sure what we would ever do without him. So, the next time you visit Conakry and we tell you we need to call our chauffer, you will understand why!
While we employ Mr. Bah full time and he does make trips up to the village for us, we mainly use him when we are in the capital. Driving in Conakry is unlike driving in any other place. Everyone seems to make up their own rules. Two lanes can easily become 4 four if you wish. Someone not going fast enough? Just speed around him on the shoulder on the right side. Need to turn around – just do a u-turn in the middle of the road. It is crazy out there. Mr. Bah has driven in several other African capitals – and claims Conakry to be the craziest. The longer we are here, the more we see order trying to be instituted. There are some functioning traffic lights. There are police trying to keep things in order – and doing a great job at some intersections.
Downtown, things get even more interesting. Certain streets are one way at certain times of the day. I have NO idea which ones they are. Other streets will suddenly become one way – with no warning. Parking is always tight. People are everywhere. When you stop at a light, beggars come up and try to get money. Motorcycles whip in and out of traffic.
Besides being safer, it is much more interesting being a passenger. You get to see all of the shops and what they are selling. One store we passed last week was selling bottled water and mattresses. I was intrigued by the combination. In the afternoons especially there are kids (mostly) who walk in and out of the lines of traffic selling all sorts of things – CD’s, rechargeable phone cards, plastic flowers, insect spray, off-brand Kleenex, handkerchiefs, apples, sesame seed candy (my personal favorite), jelly. That whole scene fascinates me as well. Why jelly? Why insect spray? Who makes those decisions? I suppose it is kind of like those racks you stand by in the checkout lanes in the US with all kinds of random items.
But Mr. Bah’s helpfulness extends way beyond his driving abilities. He seems to know everyone. We will say – I need to find___________________ (we fill in the blank with various sorts of things.) or I need to have _______________ done. Well, Mr. Bah will reply, I have a cousin who can get that for you. Or, I have a friend who does that. He is amazing. He is incredibly resourceful, and very patient. He will wait for several hours for us to finish a task, if necessary. He loves our kids. He never complains when we ask him to do stuff for us. He worries about us and is incredibly protective.
He calls me Mom or Mommy – a term of respect – he calls all of the team women that. Jim is Mr. Jim or Boss. I love to call him on the phone and hear him answer – Yes, Mom. (He is around 60 years old, by the way.)
We try our best to take good care of him and give him a lot of respect. We ask his advice on a myriad of things. We buy treats for his kids and diapers and medicine for his son who is handicapped. We try to pay him well. We help out when we can.
Here are 2 of my favorite Mr. Bah stories………………
1. This one I shared in a supporter update in March. Mr. Bah traveled home with us that trip, driving one of the vehicles. We stopped for lunch in a shady spot and were having sandwiches. We had received a bag of Doritos from the States and had been saving them. As anyone who lives overseas knows, things like Doritos are very special and so we tend to hoard them a little. I didn’t offer any to Mr. Bah, because I have never seem him eating chips before and figured he would not like them – as they are not rice – his normal meal. As we were getting back into the truck, he found the bag and asked what they were. I told him that they were chips from America and that he should try them. So he took a few, and then a few more. Pretty soon, he was munching away. He said, “Mom, these are really good. Someone will have to take the bag away from me.” I am sure my face matched the kids’ faces, as we watched him downing our precious Doritos.
2. The second story is from our last trip to CKY a week ago. I was out doing some shopping and stopped at a fairly nice air-conditioned grocery store. Mr. Bah waited outside for me, chatting with the security people as he waited. I got back into the truck when I was finished and said, Mr. Bah, are you ready to go? He said, Mommy, look at me. I am covered with dirt. I could see some small smudges on the front of his suit so I asked him what happened. He said, I had to urinate, and so I asked where I could go and they told me to go out behind the store. But when I got there, a big dog was there and it was not tied up and it jumped up on me and grabbed me and I thought I was going to have to call you. (As he recounted the story, his voice got louder and he got more distraught – sadly, I got more and more amused. If you could have seem his face as he told me about it!!) Anyway, he continued, I came back out and I told them, if you tell someone you can urinate somewhere, you need to tell them there is a BIG dog that is not tied up.
The poor man was so upset, and I was so amused. Thankfully, I had bought him a Coke so he could have something to drink and settle down.
He is a wonderful asset to our team and I am not sure what we would ever do without him. So, the next time you visit Conakry and we tell you we need to call our chauffer, you will understand why!
Friday, June 11, 2010
So, That Has Never Happened Before. . . .
Yesterday, I had a busy day. We did school. I cleaned the house, made supper, and exercised. I wanted to jump in the shower quickly before I saw the patients waiting for me on the porch. I grabbed my purple scrubbie ( my 99 cent Wal-Mart special) and got it soapy with a bar of Palmolive. I scrubbed down and was finishing on my feet when I felt something strange move in my hand. I flung my hand out and looked down on the floor. There, to my surprise, was a scorpion – all clean and bubbly. At first I thought it was dead, but it soon tried to crawl away.
Wow. What a bizarre feeling – to know that it had been in my hand and scrubbie as I washed my whole body!!! For the rest of the night, when I thought about it, I would feel little pinpricks on my skin. I was thankful not to have been stung. Our African friend thought that the scent from the soap confused the scorpion temporarily. Who knows? I definitely do not recommend it as a new skin treatment. :^)
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