Okay so I am a little bit of a wimp. I am not a big fan of pain. Take my infected hangnail for instance….
I have an infected hangnail on my finger. I have been moderately working on curing it. I have soaked it in hot salt water and put antibiotic ointment on it, but it is not getting better. I am not over diligent about doing those things, mind you -just when it starts to bother me. Well, it is progressively getting more painful. Several times this week, I could barely stand to pump up the blood pressure cuff to check the blood pressure on my patients because of the pain it caused in my finger. I thought about telling my family that I could not cook and clean – but alas, even I am not that much of a wimp!
But JUST about the time I begin to think I am really suffering, someone shows up on my porch with an actual reason to complain! Honestly, it amazes me what people here can endure. Over and over, people of all ages come with burns. I am not talking a little “I burned myself on the oven” kind of burn. I am talking whole sections of bodies – a woman who was cooking topless and dumped hot water down her front, a little girl who tumbled backwards and sat down in a cooking fire, a little boy who accidently knelt down in hot coals. And what amazes me even more is that, often, the burns are days or weeks old. I cannot even fathom that kind of pain. So I dress the wounds and give them Tylenol and Ibuprofen and the relief that it brings is amazing.
I also see wounds – big, deep, gaping wounds that would level most grown men. But not here! I am currently treating a man who was attacked by a monkey and has 2 incisions on his calf from where the monkey got him – both about an inch deep. He is up walking around, even though it hurts. Other people show up with infected hands or legs or feet – swollen 2 – 3 times bigger than the other one. And they are still functioning! I treated one lady whose whole face and neck was swollen and hard from a tooth infection gone bad! It never ceases to amaze me what the human body can endure.
So, when I see those people, and hear how grateful they are for help, I try to suck it up and not complain. Really, what is a hangnail compared to what they have to endure. I try to be more grateful for access to medical care and Tylenol that I can dispense myself. This reminds me, I need to go take some – all of this typing is hurting my finger!
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Honored By The Invitation
Last night I had an interesting experience. It had been a busy day. At the start, it was filled with all of the normal stuff: school, laundry, pumping water, cooking, baking, cleaning, etc. In regard to sick people, it was INSANE. Starting at 9 am, I had people on the porch. While I don’t treat people in the morning, I had to go out 4 times and explain that work would be starting in the afternoon at 4 pm. That alone consumed 20-30 minutes of my time. To make matters worse, Jim had gone to the farm, so I was left to deal with everyone on my own. Around 10am, the people that had showed up decided just to wait it out, on the porch.
For 6 hours, there was constant noise from the front of the house – babies crying, people talking, benches scraping on the ground, etc. Finally, around 3:30pm, I gave up trying to accomplish anything inside and went out to start seeing patients. I got slammed. There are SO many sick kids in town right now – and I think at least half were at my house (okay, that may be an exaggeration….) People were starting to get surly – I was here first, I need to go finish cooking, I have a long way to go to get home. In turn, I was starting to get surly – I said, I am only one person; if everyone doesn’t settle down, I will walk into the house and no one will get medicine today. That seemed to help.
By 7 pm, I was finally done, and I was exhausted. Jim had returned and we had supper. I was lying on the couch, prepared to relax for the evening when I heard my name called in the darkness from the side window. It was the husband of a friend of mine, telling me that she was in labor and asking if I could come. (I had been visiting this woman frequently and teasing her that she was going to deliver twins – she seemed less than amused by that.) The midwife had been called as well and asked me to come too. I have not been in a delivery with her yet, and I wanted to see how she handled things. I also wanted to be there for my friend, so I told him I would come.
I got my bag, changed my clothes, arranged things with the kids- leaving a 2 way radio behind so they could call me- and took off in the dark. The night was getting cold and the sky was clear and beautiful. The stars were amazing! I arrived at the hut and was ushered inside. The midwife was sitting on the bed beside another older woman. The co-wife of my friend was there, with her 4 month old baby sleeping quietly on one of the beds. Deliveries in Africa never cease to amaze me – I usually learn a lot of cultural things as I sit quietly and listen to all of the chatter around me. They wanted me to check the woman’s progress, and in doing so, I discovered that it was going to be awhile before the baby arrived, so we settled in. We chatted for a while, and then the midwife and older woman lay down to get some sleep.
As I sat on a little stool in the semi-darkness of the hut, bare feet on the cow dung floor, praying for the baby and the mom, listening to the co-wife who was not in labor encouraging the other, I was overwhelmed by the privilege it is for us to be here and overwhelmed by the honor our friends here bestow on us to invite us into the very private moments of our lives. They could ignore us. We do, after all, have a very limited understanding of their culture. It is completely outside my realm of understanding of how two women can share one husband.
I don’t understand how they can (seemingly) so casually deal with the death of a child. I don’t truly understand the work and effort they expend just to stay alive. And yet, they invite and are gracious. They patiently explain things and repeat it again if we didn’t catch the words.
After about an hour and a half, I needed to stretch my legs and told them I was going to go home and get some medicine for the mom for after she delivered. (I am fairly popular with the moms because I give them Tylenol after delivery, which they don’t normally get.)
I told them I would be right back. They were amazed – you are going, all by yourself???? Of course, I said, I will be right back. But, they said, no one is here to walk with you. Not a problem, I said, it is not very far (it is less than a 5 minute walk). Oh, but it is very far – and it is dark, aren’t you afraid? they asked. I am not afraid, I said. But my husband is not here to walk with you, she said. It is okay, I said, I am not afraid. I will be right back.
As I walked under the starry night, praising God for His goodness in allowing us to be here, I also felt sad that so many of my friends live in such fear of the dark and the spirits that live in the darkness. Our prayer is that some day they, too, will live in freedom from that fear.
I returned back to the hut and waited several more hours. Everyone else was lying down and they were very worried about me, sitting on my stool. I finally consented to lying down and curled up with the midwife on a straw bed NOT built for 2 people.
The labor was progressing very slowly – amazing considering that this was her 8th baby. Finally around midnight, with my friend sleeping quietly on the floor, I decided that I needed to go home. It didn’t look like the baby was coming any time soon. They promised to call me if they needed me.
I woke up at 6:50 am and, after a cup of coffee and some Bible reading, I went to check on my friend. As I walked towards her hut, 3 of the kids came running up to me and threw their arms around me. I said, do you have a new baby? They were all smiles and pulled me into the hut.
My friend had delivered a beautiful girl not terrible long after I left. She is gorgeous. I gave them some clothes and stocking hat for the baby, put ointment in her eyes, recorded her birth date in her medical folder, and thanked the mom for working so hard to have such a beautiful baby. As I left, there was a trail of kids calling after me – goodbye Gulunga, goobye Gulunga.
What a life we lead…….
For 6 hours, there was constant noise from the front of the house – babies crying, people talking, benches scraping on the ground, etc. Finally, around 3:30pm, I gave up trying to accomplish anything inside and went out to start seeing patients. I got slammed. There are SO many sick kids in town right now – and I think at least half were at my house (okay, that may be an exaggeration….) People were starting to get surly – I was here first, I need to go finish cooking, I have a long way to go to get home. In turn, I was starting to get surly – I said, I am only one person; if everyone doesn’t settle down, I will walk into the house and no one will get medicine today. That seemed to help.
By 7 pm, I was finally done, and I was exhausted. Jim had returned and we had supper. I was lying on the couch, prepared to relax for the evening when I heard my name called in the darkness from the side window. It was the husband of a friend of mine, telling me that she was in labor and asking if I could come. (I had been visiting this woman frequently and teasing her that she was going to deliver twins – she seemed less than amused by that.) The midwife had been called as well and asked me to come too. I have not been in a delivery with her yet, and I wanted to see how she handled things. I also wanted to be there for my friend, so I told him I would come.
I got my bag, changed my clothes, arranged things with the kids- leaving a 2 way radio behind so they could call me- and took off in the dark. The night was getting cold and the sky was clear and beautiful. The stars were amazing! I arrived at the hut and was ushered inside. The midwife was sitting on the bed beside another older woman. The co-wife of my friend was there, with her 4 month old baby sleeping quietly on one of the beds. Deliveries in Africa never cease to amaze me – I usually learn a lot of cultural things as I sit quietly and listen to all of the chatter around me. They wanted me to check the woman’s progress, and in doing so, I discovered that it was going to be awhile before the baby arrived, so we settled in. We chatted for a while, and then the midwife and older woman lay down to get some sleep.
As I sat on a little stool in the semi-darkness of the hut, bare feet on the cow dung floor, praying for the baby and the mom, listening to the co-wife who was not in labor encouraging the other, I was overwhelmed by the privilege it is for us to be here and overwhelmed by the honor our friends here bestow on us to invite us into the very private moments of our lives. They could ignore us. We do, after all, have a very limited understanding of their culture. It is completely outside my realm of understanding of how two women can share one husband.
I don’t understand how they can (seemingly) so casually deal with the death of a child. I don’t truly understand the work and effort they expend just to stay alive. And yet, they invite and are gracious. They patiently explain things and repeat it again if we didn’t catch the words.
After about an hour and a half, I needed to stretch my legs and told them I was going to go home and get some medicine for the mom for after she delivered. (I am fairly popular with the moms because I give them Tylenol after delivery, which they don’t normally get.)
I told them I would be right back. They were amazed – you are going, all by yourself???? Of course, I said, I will be right back. But, they said, no one is here to walk with you. Not a problem, I said, it is not very far (it is less than a 5 minute walk). Oh, but it is very far – and it is dark, aren’t you afraid? they asked. I am not afraid, I said. But my husband is not here to walk with you, she said. It is okay, I said, I am not afraid. I will be right back.
As I walked under the starry night, praising God for His goodness in allowing us to be here, I also felt sad that so many of my friends live in such fear of the dark and the spirits that live in the darkness. Our prayer is that some day they, too, will live in freedom from that fear.
I returned back to the hut and waited several more hours. Everyone else was lying down and they were very worried about me, sitting on my stool. I finally consented to lying down and curled up with the midwife on a straw bed NOT built for 2 people.
The labor was progressing very slowly – amazing considering that this was her 8th baby. Finally around midnight, with my friend sleeping quietly on the floor, I decided that I needed to go home. It didn’t look like the baby was coming any time soon. They promised to call me if they needed me.
I woke up at 6:50 am and, after a cup of coffee and some Bible reading, I went to check on my friend. As I walked towards her hut, 3 of the kids came running up to me and threw their arms around me. I said, do you have a new baby? They were all smiles and pulled me into the hut.
My friend had delivered a beautiful girl not terrible long after I left. She is gorgeous. I gave them some clothes and stocking hat for the baby, put ointment in her eyes, recorded her birth date in her medical folder, and thanked the mom for working so hard to have such a beautiful baby. As I left, there was a trail of kids calling after me – goodbye Gulunga, goobye Gulunga.
What a life we lead…….
It's Not Easy Being Green
We run a green household. No, I am not referring to the color of the warthog meat if left out in the sun too long, nor the color my wicker laundry basket turns in the rainy season after sitting full of sweaty clothes for 4 days. I mean green in the environmental sense. We conserve, recycle, and are environmentally aware with the best of them!
Recycling for us does not mean throwing plastics in a big blue tub for the garbage man. Any type of can, plastic, bag or anything that seems REMOTELY useful goes in a pile on the back porch and is taken by our friends. Old magazines and books can be used for entertainment purposes or to wrap medicine or donuts. Our guys LOVE our old AA or AAA batteries. We think they are dead – not giving enough light. They say – wow, when you give us those batteries, they last us for a month. The ones we buy in the market only last for 2 days. It is a LITTLE embarrassing but what to do……
These days, we are dangerously low on toilet paper. The rolls we can buy in country typically last a day – maybe 2 – as long as no one has a runny belly. We got a small supply over Thanksgiving which we need to make last until our teammates return from Conakry. I am fairly certain that my family is VERY tired of me saying – You all REMEMBER how low we are on toilet paper – right? If you blow your nose on a Kleenex, don’t throw it away. Recycle it as toilet paper. By the way – 2 -3 squares is sufficient! I am REALLY hoping we can make it last so that we don’t have to resort to the teakettle of water that our village friends use! I suppose that would be MORE environmentally friendly but I am not sure I can make the sacrifice!
Very little food gets wasted. We are currently finishing up a bag of flour that has a little extra protein in the form of weevils and their larva. It has already been sifted once – now I am resifting it. Leftover chicken bones and broth (from deboning chickens) are highly sought after by my friends. Does your pasta have a few bugs in it? No problem –when you boil it, they float to the top! I did discover some of my pasta was nearly black with bug dust. I put it out on the back porch to throw away and my friend busily put it in a bag to take it home.
Our house is basically run on solar power- an expensive investment up front, but a great source of power here in the African tropics. I can run a bread machine (dough cycle only) and we have lights and I can even plug in my Christmas tree! We do use a generator for a few hours of laundry twice a week. I even have a solar clothes dryer- it strongly resembles a clothesline! :^)
Speaking of laundry, we reuse our water as well. The first wash load gets thrown out, but the rinse water is collected and reused as the wash water for the next load. At the end, the last rinse water is saved for Jim to water his garden, since it is now dry season and the rains are over.
Surrounding our back yard is a living fence. This is the first time we have had this. Before, our back yard was fenced in by a fence made of woven grass. I can just feel the oxygen replenishing in the air from the plant fence.
I suppose it is a good thing to try to preserve the environment, considering the destruction of it that we see all around us. MANY people are making boatloads of money by cutting down trees and selling them to countries like China. As we drive down the road, we see PILES of these huge logs. (Another sad consequence of all of this wood cutting is the mangled fingers and feet from the heavy wood dropping on them, but that is another story for another time…….) While it is a frustrating thing to see, we can certainly understand the desire to try to get ahead in a place where life is overwhelming some times and every day is a struggle to make ends meet. If only they could catch on to reforestation…..
So, we are doing our part to keep our planet alive.
Recycling for us does not mean throwing plastics in a big blue tub for the garbage man. Any type of can, plastic, bag or anything that seems REMOTELY useful goes in a pile on the back porch and is taken by our friends. Old magazines and books can be used for entertainment purposes or to wrap medicine or donuts. Our guys LOVE our old AA or AAA batteries. We think they are dead – not giving enough light. They say – wow, when you give us those batteries, they last us for a month. The ones we buy in the market only last for 2 days. It is a LITTLE embarrassing but what to do……
These days, we are dangerously low on toilet paper. The rolls we can buy in country typically last a day – maybe 2 – as long as no one has a runny belly. We got a small supply over Thanksgiving which we need to make last until our teammates return from Conakry. I am fairly certain that my family is VERY tired of me saying – You all REMEMBER how low we are on toilet paper – right? If you blow your nose on a Kleenex, don’t throw it away. Recycle it as toilet paper. By the way – 2 -3 squares is sufficient! I am REALLY hoping we can make it last so that we don’t have to resort to the teakettle of water that our village friends use! I suppose that would be MORE environmentally friendly but I am not sure I can make the sacrifice!
Very little food gets wasted. We are currently finishing up a bag of flour that has a little extra protein in the form of weevils and their larva. It has already been sifted once – now I am resifting it. Leftover chicken bones and broth (from deboning chickens) are highly sought after by my friends. Does your pasta have a few bugs in it? No problem –when you boil it, they float to the top! I did discover some of my pasta was nearly black with bug dust. I put it out on the back porch to throw away and my friend busily put it in a bag to take it home.
Our house is basically run on solar power- an expensive investment up front, but a great source of power here in the African tropics. I can run a bread machine (dough cycle only) and we have lights and I can even plug in my Christmas tree! We do use a generator for a few hours of laundry twice a week. I even have a solar clothes dryer- it strongly resembles a clothesline! :^)
Speaking of laundry, we reuse our water as well. The first wash load gets thrown out, but the rinse water is collected and reused as the wash water for the next load. At the end, the last rinse water is saved for Jim to water his garden, since it is now dry season and the rains are over.
Surrounding our back yard is a living fence. This is the first time we have had this. Before, our back yard was fenced in by a fence made of woven grass. I can just feel the oxygen replenishing in the air from the plant fence.
I suppose it is a good thing to try to preserve the environment, considering the destruction of it that we see all around us. MANY people are making boatloads of money by cutting down trees and selling them to countries like China. As we drive down the road, we see PILES of these huge logs. (Another sad consequence of all of this wood cutting is the mangled fingers and feet from the heavy wood dropping on them, but that is another story for another time…….) While it is a frustrating thing to see, we can certainly understand the desire to try to get ahead in a place where life is overwhelming some times and every day is a struggle to make ends meet. If only they could catch on to reforestation…..
So, we are doing our part to keep our planet alive.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
It's a Party!
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.
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.
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.
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