As I sit with them in their shared hospital room, their eyes exude hope. A hope yearning for acceptance from a society that has previously cast them out. They chatter to me in excitement about the possibility of husbands who will provide for them again one day. They giggle over how happy they will be when they return to their village and get to experience community. This is a love they haven’t known for a very long time, as they’ve been dealt a cruel fate thus far in life.
These women are the modern day lepers of Africa- women with Vesico Vaginal Fistulas, commonly known as VVF. A disease unknown in the western world, solely because it is a disease of poverty.
In her childhood years she is malnourished. With little food to eat, she doesn’t grow well. Instead of attending school, she does physical labor every day, carrying water, food, or wood for miles on end. Or she farms in the sweltering heat. With the increased physical labor and the lack of nourishment she remains small. Too small. At a young age she is married off and becomes pregnant. Elated over the opportunity to bring life into this world, an act that deems her worth here in Africa, her baby cannot fit through her pelvis. After a labor that lasts at first hours, then days, and no healthcare to help relieve the labor, the baby may die. With too much pressure for too long, her uterus is now damaged. So she leaks urine. Or even worse, feces as well. She avoids drinking to avoid the trickle down the inside of her thigh and onto the floor. She gets skin infections from the thick urine that does run down her legs. You can smell her stench ten feet away, and she leaves a trail wherever she goes. She cannot work due to social embarrassment. Eventually she is asked to move outside the house. Her husband may find a new wife, one who is not “cursed”, and she’ll live alone, away from society, with much time to contemplate why she has to endure this life, or rather, this existence. Living like this, well you can’t even call it a life.
These women are the modern day lepers of Africa- women with Vesico Vaginal Fistulas, commonly known as VVF. A disease unknown in the western world, solely because it is a disease of poverty.
This is the reality of so many VVF ladies. We have sixty+ beautiful ones who have come to our ship to be healed. Here they will each get an operation to stop their constant leaking. Often, the damage is so severe that there is little viable tissue to use for repair. Or perhaps they’ve had many previous repair attempts, which decreases their chance of success this time around. So while some will leave dry, others will leave feeling defeated and confused as to why the operation wasn’t successful. We will all share in this together.
Yesterday I went to our off ship clinic to teach these women who have endured so much more than I will ever know. As we were talking about post-op exercise restrictions one older woman started to cry. When asked why, she explained that despite my suggestion to avoid walking long distances for six weeks (wounds need to heal), she needed to walk right away upon her return to her village. Without her ability to walk, she could not work, and without work she had no money to eat. She has no family and no friends to let her rest for a while, and no one to provide her with such a basic necessity as food. She is completely alone.
I sat there for a second and then I started to tear up. Every day this week the harsh reality of poverty here has slapped me in the face. While I know that the poor will always be amongst us, it’s definitely hitting home. Mercy Ships is treating these sixty some ladies here on the ship, but the truth of the matter is that there are over two million more who live like this in shame every day of their lives. What's even sadder is that if all these women with obstructed labor could have access to a c-section within three hours, there would be no obstetric VVF ladies in existence. It is truly a disease defined by poverty, an overwhelming lack of resources. The chasm between the rich and the poor grows vastly larger by the day here.
Sometimes it’s frustrating. When prevention is the key and the need is so great, it’s easy to get wrapped up in the numbers and ask what difference will it make? Sixty ladies amongst millions? But then I am reminded of this woman who cried today, and I know, it makes a huge difference for her. I ache with love for her, and for the others. I ache over the hope deferred from the surgeries that fail, and I ache for what every woman has endured to get here. Please pray with me, that each and every surgery here is an overwhelming success. Pray that every woman does get a new chance at life - a chance to have a community where she is welcomed, and most importantly where she is loved. May their stories be a testament to the fact that we serve a big God who can do big things. A God who can heal not only these sixty women, but each of us as well.
He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. ~ Psalm 147:3
