Last week we went camping with about 40 other missionaries. We drove about 8 hours west and then north to a beautiful part of the country. As in years past, we camped next to a huge waterfalls – hiking down daily to enjoy the refreshing (and hopefully not parasite filled) water at the bottom of one set of falls. Sadly, someone has begun clearing away our previous campsites and burning it to make a bridge. Who knows what we will find there next year.
So, what does one take camping in Africa? Well, much of the same things you take in America, I suppose. There are the tents (one extra for the boys who are officially too old to camp in the same tent as their parents), the sleeping bags, the clothes, the food, etc. Our truck was filled to overflowing. The boys were mortified! Why does it take so much to camp, they wondered? Well, I said, what should we leave behind – the five gallon containers of filtered water? The coolers and trunks with the food?
What about the tables and chairs so we don’t have to set everything on the ground with the snakes and the ants? The TP and the shovel to dig a hole? What about the medical supplies – including antibiotics for all occasions, Tylenol and Ibuprofen, antihistamines, stun gun for snake bites and scorpion stings, sutures and steri-strips for lacerations, gauze and ace wraps, etc??? We certainly can’t leave behind the 15 gallons of gas we might need, in case we can’t find fuel on the road. So off we went.
We weren’t extreme like some people who brought a little generator. We, of course, made fun of them constantly, though. Their campsite, with the lights strung up under the little canvas gazebo, was a very popular Rook playing spot each evening! Camping with 40 other missionaries is great fun. No one has the responsibility of answering the door, or doing business. It is relaxing to sit around the campfire and sing and play games and catch up on each other’s lives. It is great to relax together. You certainly see a different side of people when they are out of their normal routine of life.
The system that is in place has everyone sharing the evening meals. The campers are divided up for the meals – with different families teamed up to provide for the whole group on different nights. So, on the three nights we camp, each family only cooks once for the evening meal.
Sadly, this year, we didn’t see or hear any chimps or gorillas like we usually do. We did see some snakes, though all of them escaped being killed. So glad we didn’t need that stun gun!!! Overall, despite the work and effort, I certainly recommend camping in the wilds of Africa!!! We go every year in March – so make plans for next year to join us!!!
Monday, April 11, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
A Peak Into Another World
Last week, Mindie and I attended a CHE conference. CHE stands for Community Health Evangelism (or Education – depending on the context). We traveled 8 ½ to the south of us – to what is called the Forest region here in Guinea. It is a beautiful place – one of the first to have the gospel, many years ago. Colleagues of ours, with CAMA services, have built a hospital there and they hosted the event.
Originally, there were to be 25 participants, but this being Africa, 35 people showed up and were allowed to attend. There were 6 women – one Guinean and 5 expatriates -three from the US, one from Britain, and a Swiss German lady. So, the room was busting at the seams with Guinean men – formally educated, Christians, leaders. The conference was totally in French and was taught by a Togolese man named Daniel. He was an incredible educator with a gift at communicating and drawing in his audience - amazing to watch.
As we filed in and found seats, we were given our first assignment. We were paired up with another participant and asked to get certain bits of information – relating to family, occupation, etc, and also their favorite meal. We were then to introduce that person to the rest of the class. Mind you, this can be a little intimidating when you are a white woman, not from the country, with French language skills (not my mother language) that are deteriorating the longer I live in the village and try to learn tribal languages.
With every tribal language that I try to add, and with every month that passes that I don’t use my French, what I have acquired seems to fall out of my brain, which of course, I don’t notice until I go to Conakry every 3 – 4 months and then I try to use the French. OYE!!!! There are some words that I just can’t find in French when I am speaking – so it all gets mixed up with tribal words – and comes out like a stir fry of languages….. But again, I digress.
I was paired with Daniel – a blessing, because he knew what information I needed and graciously wrote it all on a piece of paper so I didn’t need to remember it all. As the introductions began, I knew we were in for an incredible view into the culture as EVERY man, without fail, introduced his person by saying, This is __________. He is married to only one wife, and has ___________ kids. It struck me that in the US we would never say, Hi, I am Jim and I only have one wife. I thought, Buckle up – here we go!
The whole three days were like that – finding nuggets of information and getting this wonderful chance to see the worldview of our African colleagues. We listened to them pray and sing, watched them do skits, heard discussions and arguments, and watched as ideas of development and education struck them in a new way. It was really fascinating! They were gracious with our communication skills, and allowed us to express opinions, which often struck them as odd – judging by the look on their faces.
One of the most interesting exercises to me was when we began to discuss what were the major issues in Guinea that were the causes of poverty, poor health, and problems here – the things that are perpetually keeping countries like Guinea in a third world status. As an expat and as a nurse, I have many things that top my list, but it was interesting what came from the other participants. We each had to pick up an object in the room and place it in a line on the floor – noting with it one of the problems that we see. Daniel then wrote down the issues.
Frankly, it was a little discouraging to see such a LONG line of things that need to be battled. Things like lack of education, malaria, lack of clean drinking water, alcohol, malnutrition, diarrhea, sorcery, drugs, a mentality of poverty, brain drain (educated people leaving the country and never returning), and corruption, etc. topped the list. We then had to choose what we thought were the top three issues facing the country and voted by placing a piece of paper on each issue.
The votes were then tallied and the top 5 problems were each assigned to a group to come up with solutions on how they could be solved. It was really interesting to watch. Here are the top 5 chosen by the guys: malaria, lack of clean drinking water, lack of education, female circumcision, and tatouage (which I don’t completely understand but appears to be a time when boys are taken out into the forest and initiated into manhood through drugs and sorcery.)
The last two really surprised me – not that they were issues, but that the Africans saw them as top issues. I was in a group assigned to tackle how to solve the problems of female circumcision and the discussion was very revealing.
By the end of the three days, I was mentally exhausted from all of the French and sitting and interaction, but came away with a new appreciation for what God is doing in this country and a new heart of thankfulness that He is allowing our family to be a part of it!
Originally, there were to be 25 participants, but this being Africa, 35 people showed up and were allowed to attend. There were 6 women – one Guinean and 5 expatriates -three from the US, one from Britain, and a Swiss German lady. So, the room was busting at the seams with Guinean men – formally educated, Christians, leaders. The conference was totally in French and was taught by a Togolese man named Daniel. He was an incredible educator with a gift at communicating and drawing in his audience - amazing to watch.
As we filed in and found seats, we were given our first assignment. We were paired up with another participant and asked to get certain bits of information – relating to family, occupation, etc, and also their favorite meal. We were then to introduce that person to the rest of the class. Mind you, this can be a little intimidating when you are a white woman, not from the country, with French language skills (not my mother language) that are deteriorating the longer I live in the village and try to learn tribal languages.
With every tribal language that I try to add, and with every month that passes that I don’t use my French, what I have acquired seems to fall out of my brain, which of course, I don’t notice until I go to Conakry every 3 – 4 months and then I try to use the French. OYE!!!! There are some words that I just can’t find in French when I am speaking – so it all gets mixed up with tribal words – and comes out like a stir fry of languages….. But again, I digress.
I was paired with Daniel – a blessing, because he knew what information I needed and graciously wrote it all on a piece of paper so I didn’t need to remember it all. As the introductions began, I knew we were in for an incredible view into the culture as EVERY man, without fail, introduced his person by saying, This is __________. He is married to only one wife, and has ___________ kids. It struck me that in the US we would never say, Hi, I am Jim and I only have one wife. I thought, Buckle up – here we go!
The whole three days were like that – finding nuggets of information and getting this wonderful chance to see the worldview of our African colleagues. We listened to them pray and sing, watched them do skits, heard discussions and arguments, and watched as ideas of development and education struck them in a new way. It was really fascinating! They were gracious with our communication skills, and allowed us to express opinions, which often struck them as odd – judging by the look on their faces.
One of the most interesting exercises to me was when we began to discuss what were the major issues in Guinea that were the causes of poverty, poor health, and problems here – the things that are perpetually keeping countries like Guinea in a third world status. As an expat and as a nurse, I have many things that top my list, but it was interesting what came from the other participants. We each had to pick up an object in the room and place it in a line on the floor – noting with it one of the problems that we see. Daniel then wrote down the issues.
Frankly, it was a little discouraging to see such a LONG line of things that need to be battled. Things like lack of education, malaria, lack of clean drinking water, alcohol, malnutrition, diarrhea, sorcery, drugs, a mentality of poverty, brain drain (educated people leaving the country and never returning), and corruption, etc. topped the list. We then had to choose what we thought were the top three issues facing the country and voted by placing a piece of paper on each issue.
The votes were then tallied and the top 5 problems were each assigned to a group to come up with solutions on how they could be solved. It was really interesting to watch. Here are the top 5 chosen by the guys: malaria, lack of clean drinking water, lack of education, female circumcision, and tatouage (which I don’t completely understand but appears to be a time when boys are taken out into the forest and initiated into manhood through drugs and sorcery.)
The last two really surprised me – not that they were issues, but that the Africans saw them as top issues. I was in a group assigned to tackle how to solve the problems of female circumcision and the discussion was very revealing.
By the end of the three days, I was mentally exhausted from all of the French and sitting and interaction, but came away with a new appreciation for what God is doing in this country and a new heart of thankfulness that He is allowing our family to be a part of it!
The Incredible Journey
With the song LIFE IS A HIGHWAY floating through the truck, five of us set off for the edge of the world. Mr. Bah, our driver, expertly piloted the vehicle, and Mindie and Elijah Tice, along with Marci (Mindie’s sister) and I bounced our way to the conference. Of the 8 hours, 5 are on great road and the other 3 on terrible roads. We dozed and chatted and munched our way along. Fuel was an issue as we stopped in every major town, asking if any was available. The answer was usually no. We finally found some about half way there.
Mr. Bah pulled up to the pump, but was distraught that we were sitting at a bit of an angle. When you buy gas here in Guinea, everyone LOVES to fill the tank to the very top – usually to the point of overflowing the tank. They stand there and rock the vehicle back and forth – trying to settle what is in there to allow for maximum filling! (For those of us who get car sick, the rocking motion, combined with the smell of the gas, is a sure way to get a sick stomach.) He was frustrated with the slant, so pulled forward and turned around.
As he shut off the vehicle, he realized that the gas tank was now on the wrong side of the truck. (I was glad to see someone else do that too.) His solution was for Mindie and Marci to roll down their windows and pass the gas hose through the back seat. That proposal was unanimously nixed in very short order and we assured him that we were okay with filling the tank – even if it was not overflowing. So we turned around again.
The rest of the trip was uneventful – until we reached the last big town where we needed to turn off to find the clinic. I was the only one who had been there before – when Kaleb had his emergency appendectomy several years ago – but at that time, we were following someone who lived at Hope Clinic so it was not a problem. I, however, was not worried. I knew that if we would find the right road, I would recognize the clinic. I had forgotten, however, what a BIG town it was. I could not find the turnoff. So we began to ask for directions.
After about 6 people had, with great confidence, given us conflicting directions, I began to get discouraged. Finally we found a helpful police man, but he wasn’t sure where to go. He trotted off to confer with some people, and returned with a man and his ten year old boy. The man knew Hope clinic well, and began to explain how to get there – but that was less than helpful, since we had NO idea where we were. Finally he said, here is what we can do. My son here knows the way to the clinic. I will send him with you to give you directions and then I will come in a while and pick him up.
We were dumbfounded. Here is a man, whom we have never met in our lives, offering for us to take his ten year old son off in our truck. Mr. Bah was thrilled and told me- move over, move over. So I got out and let the little boy in – both of us sharing the front bucket seat. Off we went. The little boy bounced along – giving Mr. Bah directions – turn left, go straight. He was adorable. We gave him a sucker. He led us straight to where we needed to go. (As we thought about it, we were amazed at the difference between the US and here – NEVER would you send your child off with a truck full of strangers – offering to come at a later time to pick him up! Our message of Never get in the car with strangers and never take candy from a stranger went right out the window!)
We arrived without further incident and got settled. The dad arrived, and we offered him some gas money. He tried to refuse it, saying that this was his town and he just wanted us to have a good stay but we insisted. He helped us one last time by taking us across the road to the village and helping us find the house where Mr. Bah was going to stay.
Mr. Bah pulled up to the pump, but was distraught that we were sitting at a bit of an angle. When you buy gas here in Guinea, everyone LOVES to fill the tank to the very top – usually to the point of overflowing the tank. They stand there and rock the vehicle back and forth – trying to settle what is in there to allow for maximum filling! (For those of us who get car sick, the rocking motion, combined with the smell of the gas, is a sure way to get a sick stomach.) He was frustrated with the slant, so pulled forward and turned around.
As he shut off the vehicle, he realized that the gas tank was now on the wrong side of the truck. (I was glad to see someone else do that too.) His solution was for Mindie and Marci to roll down their windows and pass the gas hose through the back seat. That proposal was unanimously nixed in very short order and we assured him that we were okay with filling the tank – even if it was not overflowing. So we turned around again.
The rest of the trip was uneventful – until we reached the last big town where we needed to turn off to find the clinic. I was the only one who had been there before – when Kaleb had his emergency appendectomy several years ago – but at that time, we were following someone who lived at Hope Clinic so it was not a problem. I, however, was not worried. I knew that if we would find the right road, I would recognize the clinic. I had forgotten, however, what a BIG town it was. I could not find the turnoff. So we began to ask for directions.
After about 6 people had, with great confidence, given us conflicting directions, I began to get discouraged. Finally we found a helpful police man, but he wasn’t sure where to go. He trotted off to confer with some people, and returned with a man and his ten year old boy. The man knew Hope clinic well, and began to explain how to get there – but that was less than helpful, since we had NO idea where we were. Finally he said, here is what we can do. My son here knows the way to the clinic. I will send him with you to give you directions and then I will come in a while and pick him up.
We were dumbfounded. Here is a man, whom we have never met in our lives, offering for us to take his ten year old son off in our truck. Mr. Bah was thrilled and told me- move over, move over. So I got out and let the little boy in – both of us sharing the front bucket seat. Off we went. The little boy bounced along – giving Mr. Bah directions – turn left, go straight. He was adorable. We gave him a sucker. He led us straight to where we needed to go. (As we thought about it, we were amazed at the difference between the US and here – NEVER would you send your child off with a truck full of strangers – offering to come at a later time to pick him up! Our message of Never get in the car with strangers and never take candy from a stranger went right out the window!)
We arrived without further incident and got settled. The dad arrived, and we offered him some gas money. He tried to refuse it, saying that this was his town and he just wanted us to have a good stay but we insisted. He helped us one last time by taking us across the road to the village and helping us find the house where Mr. Bah was going to stay.
Please Support a Newborn's Head. . . and Other Myths
So, I was at delivery this week and it was a beautiful baby girl. My neighbor had her on Tuesday morning. By the time I arrived, the baby was not far from being born, but the mom was in labor -sitting on the dried cow dung/dirt floor (hello tetanus!) so I went home to get some plastic for her to sit on. By the time I returned, the baby was out, lying on a dirty cloth and with her tiny arms covered with dirt.
The dad had gone off to town to see if he could buy a razor blade to cut the cord with, but I decided not to wait and used my equipment instead. Then I grabbed her and suctioned out her nose and mouth and bundled her close to me so she would not get cold. (The Africans think I am just hysterical about how much I worry about cold stress with newborns. They just laugh and laugh at me – sorry, but there is too much pediatric nurse in me still. Africa has not sweated all of that out of me just yet.)
Anyway, I was cuddling her as they heated water on the fire to wash her and as we waited for the dad (who had returned with the razor blade but was now off looking for soap to buy so we could wash the baby…. Those nine months just pass so quickly and it just kind of sneaks up on you, even if your wife has been in labor for 3 days……) But I digress. The water was finally warm, but the dad was nowhere in sight, so off I went to my house to get some soap. We got the water in the tub and I began to scrub the baby.
The soap I had was not great – something we got from a hotel, I think – and was not doing a good job. Finally someone brought some other soap so the midwife and I worked on getting her clean. The midwife decided to finish so we could rinse her off. She scrubbed and scrubbed – and as she scrubbed each arm, she would pull it far behind the baby’s back – like she was getting ready to handcuff her. Then she did the other side. Finally she pronounced her clean, and rinsed her, and stood up.
I reached out with a clean cloth to take the baby so I could wrap her back up (all that cold and all) but alas, the midwife was not quite finished. She proceeded to take her by each arm and give her a few good shakes as she dangled over the tub. Then she grabbed her by the feet and shook a few times again. After putting some soap on her finger and cleaning out the baby’s mouth, I was allowed to grab her and swaddle her.
As I watched the process, two things came to mind. The first was an old commercial for (I think) ziplock bags where someone puts some kind of liquid inside a bag and then holds it upside down and sings, shake-a-shake-a –shake…… The other was that we are just WAY too paranoid in the US about holding babies and thinking that they might break. Invariably, when a baby is born and someone goes to hold it, everyone warns, SUPPORT THE HEAD. Wow, these babies are pretty hardy out here. I am used to seeing 1 week old babies being swung up by one arm to be gently tossed onto their mothers back, but this was the first time I had seen the shake treatment at birth.
Mind you, I am not a new advocate for that kind of action. It makes me wonder if it plays any part in the high infant mortality we see out here. But, I do have to say, that, with each passing week, I wonder more and more about the bubble we place around newborns in the US. However, don’t worry, if you wander into our village and see me cleaning a newborn – you will still see me cuddling it close and I can promise that I will not be reenacting any ziplock commercials.
The dad had gone off to town to see if he could buy a razor blade to cut the cord with, but I decided not to wait and used my equipment instead. Then I grabbed her and suctioned out her nose and mouth and bundled her close to me so she would not get cold. (The Africans think I am just hysterical about how much I worry about cold stress with newborns. They just laugh and laugh at me – sorry, but there is too much pediatric nurse in me still. Africa has not sweated all of that out of me just yet.)
Anyway, I was cuddling her as they heated water on the fire to wash her and as we waited for the dad (who had returned with the razor blade but was now off looking for soap to buy so we could wash the baby…. Those nine months just pass so quickly and it just kind of sneaks up on you, even if your wife has been in labor for 3 days……) But I digress. The water was finally warm, but the dad was nowhere in sight, so off I went to my house to get some soap. We got the water in the tub and I began to scrub the baby.
The soap I had was not great – something we got from a hotel, I think – and was not doing a good job. Finally someone brought some other soap so the midwife and I worked on getting her clean. The midwife decided to finish so we could rinse her off. She scrubbed and scrubbed – and as she scrubbed each arm, she would pull it far behind the baby’s back – like she was getting ready to handcuff her. Then she did the other side. Finally she pronounced her clean, and rinsed her, and stood up.
I reached out with a clean cloth to take the baby so I could wrap her back up (all that cold and all) but alas, the midwife was not quite finished. She proceeded to take her by each arm and give her a few good shakes as she dangled over the tub. Then she grabbed her by the feet and shook a few times again. After putting some soap on her finger and cleaning out the baby’s mouth, I was allowed to grab her and swaddle her.
As I watched the process, two things came to mind. The first was an old commercial for (I think) ziplock bags where someone puts some kind of liquid inside a bag and then holds it upside down and sings, shake-a-shake-a –shake…… The other was that we are just WAY too paranoid in the US about holding babies and thinking that they might break. Invariably, when a baby is born and someone goes to hold it, everyone warns, SUPPORT THE HEAD. Wow, these babies are pretty hardy out here. I am used to seeing 1 week old babies being swung up by one arm to be gently tossed onto their mothers back, but this was the first time I had seen the shake treatment at birth.
Mind you, I am not a new advocate for that kind of action. It makes me wonder if it plays any part in the high infant mortality we see out here. But, I do have to say, that, with each passing week, I wonder more and more about the bubble we place around newborns in the US. However, don’t worry, if you wander into our village and see me cleaning a newborn – you will still see me cuddling it close and I can promise that I will not be reenacting any ziplock commercials.
Hampered By A Hangnail
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!
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!
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.
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