The Story of Jean

“Thank you, Mercy Ships. Now I came back to life,” said a jubilant Jean Loko.

For 18 years, this 60-year-old tailor had been dealing with a tumor that grew in a double row, curling like an inflated collar around the back of his neck and down his back. It forced his neck and head to stretch forward, impairing his balance. He found it difficult to walk. With stark simplicity, he stated, “I was afraid I would die.”

 

In 1992, Jean was caught in a battle between opposition and government forces on the Cotonou Road in Benin. The soldiers began beating the people, and Jean tried to run away. But a soldier hit him on the back with a bat, causing a wound that began to swell. And the wound kept growing.

 

Medical care in Western Africa is limited. The local hospital told Jean that they could not help him.  Jean tried to continue working, but his range of movement became more and more limited. He could not cut and sew the fabric of the garments without constant pain. Soon, he could no longer run his business, so he had to abandon his only source of income.

 

Jean also had to battle the cultural aversion to deformities, which were seen as a curse. The father of seven, Jean was rejected by his two oldest sons because of the growth.

All Jean could do was sit in his house. There was no joy in his life.

 

Then he heard a radio ad that brought a glimmer of hope. A Mercy Ships team was coming to hold a medical screening near his home. Although he was a little fearful that he would meet disappointment again, he went to the screening anyway. “But I was chosen!” he said with a combination of surprise, disbelief and elation.

 

The volunteer doctors aboard the Africa Mercy successfully removed the tumor that had caused him so much misery. When he realized the growth was gone, his usual somber expression turned to a brilliant smile. “I just thank Mercy Ships for what they have done for me. They gave me my life back.”

Tomegbo in Pictures

Recently my two friends Sandra and Joanna and I spent a weekend up north with some of our African friends that work on the ship.  Every day about 200 local Africans to come and work on board the Africa Mercy.  Many of these day workers move to Lome from northern parts of the country because Mercy Ships provides a small but steady income, which is often hard to come by in Africa.  This was the case with our hospital day worker friends Kossi and Walanyo, who wanted to show us around their home village about two hours up north in the mountains.  We had a fun weekend getting out of town and learning about their culture.  Here's a recap in photos. 

First stop:  the Kpalime market.  A popular town for Mercy Ship visits, this is about half an hour from Kossi and Walanyo's small village of Tomegbo.  We stopped here to get some food for the weekend.  We also slept in the town of Kpalime at night.   

After our pit-stop in Kpalime we went via zimi (motor bike) to the more rural village of Tomegbe where Kossi and Walanyo grew up. Tomegbo is home to about 3000 Africans.  We were greeted warmly by Kossi's friends, and ate each meal in the village at Kossi's friends house - a local pastor of the main church.  It was one of the nicest houses in town that we came across (meaning it had a concrete floor and real walls with electricity).  They were so good to us and made sure we only got bottled water so we didn't get sick.  Here we are eating one of our many meals in good company.

 

The first night we went to a choir concert where we heard at least eight different choirs from all over West Africa belt it out.  Everyone was dancing and singing at the concert, and I even got a "congratulations for dancing so African!" comment from the guy next to me.  Clearly I fit right in =)  On another fun note, apparently all the African women like to wear their hair curly for church on Sundays, and have no qualms with wearing curlers to the concert in town the night before!

The night only got more exciting as I felt a little something on my heel halfway through the concert.  I looked down and screamed (thankfully the choir was mid-song) as I came across this beauty of a bug that was just about to attack me:

The guy sitting next to me looks at it and says "oh this bug is really dangerous.  It pinches you and doesn't let go.  Really painful..." as he stands up mid song and carries it out of the concert.  About two minutes later another pincher scurried by again, so at this point I decided my feet would stay off the floor for the remainder of the concert. 

Post-concert we socialized again with the locals in town, and then headed back from the village to the larger city of Kpalime to spend the night in a hotel.  As we were driving on the zimi's down the mountain it was pretty dark.  All of a sudden we ran into a bat.   I was sitting behind Kossi and Jo on the bike so I didn't actually get hit, but Kossi did! Thankfully he was ok and the bat kept on flying.  It also started raining which always makes for a pleasant drive on a motor bike late at night.  Here are Kossi and Joanna.  Please note Jo's very stylish hair cover for the rain, so kindly provided by Kossi's sister. 

 The next day we spent the morning at the typical African style church service which included copious amounts of song and dance, and then more choir singing, and an auction including not only fruits and vegetables but yes that's right - live chickens as well.  We were invited to sit in the front of the church right next to the pastor since we were the guests! 

After church we made some fufu back at Kossi's friend's house.  Fufu is the local African delicacy that is very popular here.  Fufu consists of pounding cassava dough with a pestle in a mortar.  You mix in a little water and before you know it you've got a mush kind of like sticky play dough that doesn't really taste like anything.  Yum!  It's eaten with your hands and served with a tomato soup or peanut sauce to give it some flavor.   Here are Wulanyo and I pounding some fufu for dinner. It's harder than it looks!  

We also walked through the entire village and met the extended families of Kossi and Walanyo

 ...and we made a trip to the pure water factory where they produce the clean water for the city.

Finally, Kossi and Walanyo also took us to the local clinic where we got a personal tour by the town's doctor.  They were both very excited to show us the local clinic since we all work on a hospital ship.  Here is a patient room:

...and the birthing room of the clinic.  The doctor said he delivers about ten babies a month here.  

Many people here on the ship say we don't live in Africa. Technically, we live next to Africa.  So to spend the weekend in the local village and get a taste for some true African hospitality was a delight. We were treated so wonderfully by our African friends and we got many an offer to return again - not only from Kossi and Walanyo but from the village folks as well!  All the thought and preparation that went into our stay was amazing.  We learned a common phrase in the local language of Ewe - "Agbekakaka" (said with the many "kakakakas" at the end) and we were sure to say it often, as it means thank you very much. 

The Forgotten

Patients that often come to Mercy Ships have similar stories. They've been to multiple hospitals and talked to many a doctor.  Usually doctors that want to charge them exorbitant amounts of money that these Africans don't have, nor will they ever see that much money in their lifetime.  So they live with their sickness - often seen as a curse, and are cast out of everyday society.  They lack education because they are too ashamed to go to school.  Or worse, they aren't welcomed at school.  They often lack love because they fear no one will accept them or talk to them with their "curse" of a disease.  

This was the case with Blessing.  At 21 years old, she has endured much in her life.  You would never know her hardships if you spoke with her now.  She is a joy to be around and her name exemplifies her personality.  She is from Nigeria and speaks beautiful English.  I got to know her at our off ship clinic, the hospitality center, where she stayed for a while post operatively.  She, too, had a similar story. 

She'd been to multiple doctors who wanted to charge her hundreds of dollars to get surgery.  Her father was a pastor and she loved her family deeply.  She quit attending school, not by choice, but because of the stares and pressure when the tumor inside her mouth enlarged.   So she studied at home with her mother.  She wants to be a teacher or a nurse, and was so excited to return to Nigeria and finish her education. 
After multiple doctors visits her hope was lacking.  Then she ran into Emmanuel, another patient of Mercy Ships who'd had his facial tumor removed.  Emmanuel saw Blessing on the side of the road, and told her to come to the ship for screening.  (You can read his story in my previous newsletter here.) So she went to screening, got her surgery, and is now tumor free.  

Blessing and I got to talking.  She spoke with me about how God has been to good to her.  Since her dad was a pastor, she said she loved to read Psalm 31 and it gave her much comfort.  I left the hospitality center that day thinking that Blessing was going to go far in life.  She was so optimistic and motivated to do good in this world and help others.  Now that her tumor was gone she could go on and live in society once again. 

It wasn't until a few weeks later that I went back and actually read Psalm 31 - her favorite:

9 Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am in distress; my eyes grow weak with sorrow, my soul and my body with grief.  My life is consumed by anguish and my years by groaning; my strength fails because of my affliction, and my bones grow weak. Because of all my enemies, I am the utter contempt of my neighbors; I am a dread to my friends— those who see me on the street flee from me.

12 I am forgotten by them as though I were dead; I have become like broken pottery. For I hear the slander of many; there is terror on every side; they conspire against me and plot to take my life.

14 But I trust in you, O LORD; I say, "You are my God." My times are in your hands; deliver me from my enemies and from those who pursue me. Let your face shine on your servant; save me in your unfailing love....

21 Praise be to the LORD, for he showed his wonderful love to me when I was in a besieged city. 22 In my alarm I said, "I am cut off from your sight!" Yet you heard my cry for mercy when I called to you for help. Love the LORD, all his saints! The LORD preserves the faithful, but the proud he pays back in full. Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.

I was humbled.  Blessing could relate and loved this Psalm because she was the out-cast and God did see her through. I cannot even begin to imagine what life would be like, living for years with a deformity that defines you every where you go. A physical condition that disrupts the course of your life and alters your plans and dreams and hopes.  The Psalmist says "I am forgotten by them as though I were dead."  Can you imagine thinking that you were forgotten in life?  As though you had died? 

I read a statistic this week that said the number of people that die in this world from starvation is like having six September 11th's every single day.  Forever.  It's pretty humbling when you think about the thousands of people that die every day just because they don't have the means to eat. 

This year has taught me so much, but I think one of the biggest lessons is that while I have been so blessed in my short lifetime, so much of this world is not.  Luckily for Blessing, she was cured of her physical deformity and has a new chance at life.  But sadly so many others don't.  At Mercy Ships screening this year (photo above) I sat at the door on the way out of the screening and offered to pray with all those people that we couldn't help.  So many could not hold back the tears as we were talking to them, and you just wanted to be the answer for them and tell them "yes you will be helped!"  But in reality, I don't know what will happen to those we were not able to help.  

I often say I don't know why God allows so much suffering to occur, but the more I think about it, the more I see that we are not doing enough ("we" meaning those who have enough to help others).  It's not about how much you give away, but how much you have left. 

Hopefully through my blog, you get to see and experience alongside me some of these stories of what life is like in the third world.  When I think of the statistics on the starving children and I drive by the leaf huts in town, I wonder how many of those starving children have come and gone through this ship.  So when I ask this question to God - why are you allowing this suffering to occur?  All these people who have no access to good healthcare or food to eat or who do not have love?  The longer I am here the more I realize that God's response is this: "I have commanded you - every single one of you - to love your neighbors as yourselves.  Treat these neighbors as you would want your own children to be treated.  Literally.  I have given you skills and abilities and blessings in order to help them.  Don't let them be forgotten."  

A Clear Future

Here is a story on one of our eye patients written by the Communications team. 

Christian is nine years old, but he is not like other children his age. They can read. He cannot.  They can play football. He cannot.  Christian cannot do these things because he has cataracts. His father, Adado, explains,  “I noticed when he was three years old that Christian had a problem. We would ask him to pick things up, and he would feel around on the table or the floor until eventually identifying the item.”

Christian has attended school for only one year. He is unable to read the chalkboard, and it is hard for him to focus and to learn. But his father felt it was important that he attend school. Adado says, “He is struggling to learn things, and he is slow, but I wanted him to be around others his age. I didn't want him to miss out on an education.”

Adado spent an incredible amount of time and money taking Christian to hospitals all over Togo and even to Ghana. But none of the doctors knew how to fix the problem. Hope turned to desperation. And desperation turned to despair.

Then, a light shone through the darkness. A man who lived near Adado in Lomé had just received eye surgery for free. The man told Adado and Christian about Mercy Ships and where to go for screening.

 “Free surgery?” Adado thought. “Could this be true?” Adado and Christian went to the patient screening site and saw an eye specialist. They were then sent to the Mercy Ships Hospitality Center. An eye tech team performed an external and internal eye examination to determine the appropriateness of surgery. They confirmed that Christian had cataracts in both eyes … and he was a candidate for surgery! He was given a priceless, bright yellow appointment card with a date for surgery.

 Adado says, “I couldn't believe it. For so long we had spent all the money we had to find help for Christian. I didn't work for days on end while in hospitals waiting with him. Now, he will get help , and I am so thankful.”

 Cataracts in West Africa tend to be very dense due to the intense sunlight and the lack of adequate eye care. Dr. Glenn Strauss is an expert on African cataracts and has been working with Mercy Ships for 13 years. He has developed a team onboard the Africa Mercy that is able to perform, on average, 20 surgeries per day!

 Just one day after surgery, Christian was feeling upbeat. He was coloring a picture with his father and playing with other kids in the ward. Adado looked at his son and said, “Christian, can you see? What is the nurse wearing?”   Christian looked up at Mercy Ships Charge Nurse, Ali Chandra, and said, “Yes. I can see. She has a blue band on her head and a blue top.” Ali stood in her bright blue scrubs and blue headband, nodding her head and smiling. “Yep , he can see!” she said. “Dr. Glenn has done it again.”

 Now Christian will return home and start school again in the fall. Now he will be able to read the chalkboard and won't have trouble picking up items. He fully appreciates the gift of sight that so many people take for granted.