Packing Up and Saying Goodbyes

As the 2009 field service in Benin comes to a close, we've had many goodbyes over the past few weeks.   The first was a very generous thank you dinner with the President of Benin Yayi Boni at his palace in Cotonou.  Five Mercy Ships folks were knighted into the National Order of Benin on behalf of all the good works Mercy Ships has done for Benin.  No small feat!

Here we are in our finest African attire getting ready to celebrate

The venue - the Presidential Palace

and the fabulous African entertainment: tribal dances with beautiful costumes

Who would have thought when in Africa we would dine with the President?

We also said goodbye to our 200+ day volunteers that live in the local community and came to work on the ship every day.  Sadly I didn't bring my camera so the pictures are minimal.  We ate, celebrated them, and appreciated all their hard work this year.  One of my favorites is Rebecca.  She and I spent every morning together as I dried my hair in the locker room while she folded the scrubs working in the laundry department.  Every day she would just stare at me awkwardly.  I couldn't figure out what her deal was.  After a while I realized it was because the sight of my hair dryer amazed her!  She had never used one before and turning it on every morning caused her to stop folding her scrubs and just watch me dry away in awe and wonder...every single day.  Sometimes it's the little things here that still surprise me most.  Only in Africa!  =)    

I constantly tease my friend Jesse about getting an African outfit made for him because he always says he'll never wear one.  However, at our day volunteer event he was presented by his day volunteers in the galley with a nice African outfit which he wore proudly!

Me and Jamie with Jesse in his true African attire 

In other thoughts on packing up, we prepared for the sail with a swimmers and pirate watch.  Just a few weeks ago there were pirates of the coast of Benin that attacked a ship about 20 miles away from where we were docked.  Watching for any unwanted visitors in the days before and after leaving was critical.  This involved wearing some rather snazzy reflective gear up on deck eight between two and four a.m. and shining our huge flashlight (more like spotlight) into the water every 20 minutes to look for potential swimmers that might make their way up the side of the ship.  Yes, that is a real possibility.  We had some fun moments hanging out on deck eight amusing ourselves in the wee hours of the morning this past week. 

A glowing Haley and I with our fun gear

Kelly: Is that a swimmer I see?  Haley: No Kel, just a fish.

At one point my friends even took me hostage! Fun times on deck eight.  So far we haven't had any unwanted guests, so I guess we are doing our job!  Next up...the sail!

A Little Perspective

Recently I had the opportunity to go with some friends to visit a few hospitals here in Cotonou. Was I in for an eye-opener. Six of us went with Jean, one of the translators on the Africa Mercy ward.  He had some connections with the local medical folks that allowed us to tour both a government and a private hospital here in town.

People had mentioned that the African health care system was pretty different but I didn't know to what extent. Upon my arrival to the Africa Mercy this summer, I remember thinking that some of the equipment on board was pretty old in comparison to back home at PCH. Granted we are in the middle of Africa using donated supplies so this is to be expected. But after visiting the local hospitals here, I realized how lucky the Africans are that get the opportunity to come to our ship. It doesn't even compare.

The first hospital we visited was the local government hospital. Upon arrival we met the charge nurse and had a walking tour of multiple areas. Think of a creepy hospital horror movie with dingy lighting, dirty floors and rusty medical equipment. Then fill the halls with people sitting on gurneys, lying with open wounds, and their family members all just waiting around patiently. This was our tour of the ED. We learned that everyone has to pay for their own equipment, supplies, meds, and so on, and they don't get treated unless they have the cash up front. Even outside, there were tons of people milling around along all the walls of every building, with their blankets set up for sleeping and their cooking utensils in tow. Jean explained that the hospital doesn't provide food for the patients, so care givers must come to provide the necessary nutrition and sometimes even patient care, pretty much living outside the hospital doors in the sweltering heat.

We saw the OR's (one of three were being utilized as the surgeons were on strike) and we had the opportunity to see every exam room on our personal tour complete with patients being examined as we walked into their room! (HIPPA violation anyone?) About 70% of the people in the ED were there due to zimi accidents (the ever-present motorcycles that skid about town before crashing periodically). We learned that it cost about $8 US a day for a standard bed in the communal ward, and roughly $60 US day for a private room - VIP style.
As we walked to one of the OR's we encountered an overwhelming stench. I looked at my friend Christina and said "I think I'm going to throw up. What is that?" Now hospitals don't smell all that great to begin with, but this was unbearable. I had never smelled anything that literally made me gag instantly and I couldn't place it. As we walked closer to the OR I realized it was the smell of rotting flesh, coming from a man lying almost naked on a gurney set apart from everyone else. There was just a small sheet covering from his belly button to the bottom of his right leg. Other than the smell I noted the flies. They were everywhere. Upon further prodding, the nurse explained that this poor man had been lying there in the hallway all by himself for a week. The flies were due to the fact that his leg was rotting underneath this cloth and needed to be amputated, but he had no one to provide the money for the operation ($160 US) and the scan needed prior to amputation ($12 US). He only had enough for some antibiotics, so there he lay, drifting in and out of consciousness. It was awful to think that this was ok. Back home this man would have been treated emergently regardless of his financial status. We spoke to one of the doctors about paying for the operation and she didn't seem too optimistic that the surgeons would be off strike in time. Then she wished us well and sent us on our way. We left feeling rather defeated.

We moved on to visit the peds clinic (also where the dietitian works!) which looked very peds-friendly, as well as the dialysis center. On a more uplifting note, the doctor explained that people with renal disease get government funding for their dialysis trips. In the dialysis center things seemed pretty up to date. Some of the nurses even said these were the same dialysis machines they used at home. Such a stark contrast compared to the ED.

Our next stop was a private hospital where Jean's brother was an OR nurse. We had a patient show us his skull fracture via x-ray (he was rather excited) and then we happen to walk in on the preparation for a C-section. We were able to watch the whole entire thing from about 4 feet away! (Roughly HIPPA violation #18 at this point). We saw the much more sterile procedure this time around. We got to watch the epidural go in, and we saw the surgeon perform the cesarean and grab around in that mama's belly to pull the baby out. The crazy part was when the OR nurse actually handed the baby through the window one foot away from us on a platter (yes you read that correctly) for clean up. Then she proceeded to hand the umbilical cord through the window as well. We had the opportunity to stay and wait to see the baby, interestingly, before mom even got to hold her. We all took turns oohing and ahhing over this little bundle of love. It was so great to see this after our very dreary experience at the government hospital. While we were still noticeably in an African hospital by African standards, it was refreshing to see the joy of bringing a new life into the world.  While we were waiting for the baby to be cleaned up we came across this ad on the wall below.  Mercy Ships teaching in the local community!

  

Our African hospital tour provoked unexpected emotions in each of us. From the birth of a baby to a very unkind dying process we were each changed that day. The lack of access to good healthcare just doesn't sit well. So much of third world living won't ever sit well. Conclusion: When in Africa, never get sick.

P.S. After much more wrestling that night about what to do, we decided regardless that we wanted to try again to get this man his surgery. My friend Christina spoke with Jean and he returned to the hospital the next day. This man's brother arrived that day as well and the man did get his surgery. Unfortunately he died afterward - at least with dignity and surrounded by his family.

A Day at the Exodus House

The world is as many times new as there are children in our lives ~Robert Brault

We went on a Sunday morning to deliver bags of rice, oil and school supplies.  We sat in a hot and stuffy room consisting of wood benches and concrete walls, packed in with the sand fleas.  The kids all sang their hearts out in a way I've never seen, and it was beautiful. 

Exodus House is an orphanage on the outskirts of Cotonou.   Mercy Ships has partnered with Exodus house and made multiple trips during this outreach to help build bunk beds, deliver food and school supplies, and just spend time getting to know the children.  Usually between fifty and seventy five children reside here, some with families close by that just can't afford to keep them.  Others don't have parents at all.  I had the opportunity to visit the kids at Exodus Orphanage just once before our departure out of Benin.   

About ten of us went on a Sunday morning to provide some donations and spend time with the children.  We attended church where we sang songs (mostly in French) and I have never seen children worship with so much enthusiasm and love.  Especially when you think of the circumstances in which they live and the passion they have.  Completely inspiring.  We heard a short message and we were encouraged to come up and share a favorite bible verse or word of encouragement.  

After the church service we spent time playing with the kids.  Living amongst fifty other children with just a few caregivers makes for some children that want love!  This was apparent by their desire to constantly touch us and talk to us and just love on us the entire day.  I brought stickers and nail polish which went a long way with everyone.  Interestingly, the African children only want to paint their left hand.  The right hand is the dominant hand used for every day tasks so they keep this hand unpainted.   

One girl asked to get the nails on her right hand painted as well, and let me tell you, the other children were more than upset, as this was not ok!  

Our very typical lunch by African standards.  Yum!!  Always available - massive amounts of carbohydrates (at least a good three cups of rice in this bowl)!   

Our lunch was a gesture of thanks for all the work Mercy Ships had accomplished during our time in Benin.  The children were amazingly well-behaved and had good manners and hygiene practices.  This was so refreshing to see in comparison to the normal African standards of children on the street.   In visiting just one time you could tell these children were cared for well.  They were charming, friendly, joyful and beautiful!

This little guy was precious wearing my sunglasses!

Proud of her beautiful hand!

Leah and her new friends

People say the difference between happiness and joy is that joy is independent of circumstance.  You can still be joyful when you have so little to call your own, because joy is an attitude of the heart.  This was so evident amongst the children at Exodus House. They reminded me that the richest person isn't always the one who has the most, but rather the one who needs the least. 

And the blogging returns....

So this past month and a half has been just plain busy! My apologies for my blogging absence. But alas, we are now sailing up the African coast and I have a little more time to blog once again. I believe today we are passing Guinea. More to come on the sail later. Let's stay in chronological order here....and start back in early November. Let the blogging begin! =)

The Ghanaian Life

Eleven of us headed to Ghana for a long weekend last month. We became tourists and saw a few sights such as the Kakum National Park Canopy Walk where we walked 30 meters above the ground and got a bird’s eye perspective of the forest.

Only one of four canopy walks in the world, we learned that some of the chemo drugs used back at home called Vincristine and Vinblastine come from the rosy periwinkle found here in the rainforest. How educational!

We also visited the Portuguese slave castle in Elmina, which is just one of many slave castles along the Ghanaian coast.  We learned that hundreds of thousands of slaves were captured in the African interior by slave-catchers and then sold to Portuguese traders in exchange for goods such as textiles and horses.

The slaves were subjected to all sorts of torture and indignities. They spent their days in dark dungeons, shackled, without room to live humanely. They were piled in so tight they couldn't lift their arms up and were made to eat and relieve themselves all in the same dungeon floor.  After their captivity, they were sent through the castle’s infamous “Door of No Return” to be transported and resold in the "new America." 

Next to the Door of No Return was this plaque: 

Also very educational, but very sad history. 

Next we went to Umbrella rock to get some good hiking in.

After our hike we had a chance to visit the waterfalls

The hike was long and the humidity was high.  Despite the signs we couldn't resist a quick dip.  Hopefully none of us encounter any parasitic friends in the months to come...we will see! =)

We also drove hours and hours on end to get to our daily destinations. But eleven people and a minivan can make for some interesting situations! Other than a few minor mishaps such as a breakdown in rural Benin...

...or the trunk flying open in Togo as we drove down the highway, we were good to go.

I came away from my Ghanaian experience with a new perspective on Africa. Ghana is one of the most developed West African nations. There are no zimi's (the ridiculous fatality-causing motorcycles and main mode of transit for many in Benin). Driving in Ghana without zimi's going every which way felt much more safe, not to mention more peaceful. The roads are regulated with guarded check points to ensure that there are no extra passengers in your car. Real in-the-ground gas stations are prevalent (and not just the imported Nigerian gas stands you see so often in Benin). And they speak English which is always nice. There were moments sitting in Ghana with my Mercy Ship friends that I thought I could be back at Kierland Commons after a day of shopping and eating appetizers in the sunshine. Snippets of my time in this African city of Accra were so similar to home.

However, not long after that thought, I was taken right back into my previous African mindset as I know in Benin. We went to get after-dinner drinks at a bar down the street and watched in awe as the amazingly limber African street performers did their acrobatic routines. While we were enjoying the street performers some girls of about ten or twelve came over and started talking to us. The first thing that came to mind was the fact that they were light-skinned. This caught me off guard as most everyone in Ghana is as dark as can be. While visiting the slave castle the previous day we learned that many light skinned Ghanaians were the product of rape, when the white government officials would rape the African slaves in the holding rooms of the slave castle. In chatting with these young girls we realized they weren't just looking to get to know a group of Americans. Rather they were working as child prostitutes and out to make a few bucks. Ugghhh. I was reminded that night on the streets of Ghana, that centuies later, slavery is still prevalent; perhaps not in the form we think of most, but it's there. Whether it be human trafficking or child labor exploitation or something else, there is a world of injustice right outside our door step if we care to look. So many of us are born into a life of privilege, while others will do just about anything to survive.  Unfortunately, sometimes that "anything" can be a bit harrowing.

As I'd hate to end my blog on such a negative note, I thought I'd leave you with this.  Gandhi once said we must be the change we wish to see in the world.  I have a friend in Phoenix who is doing just that in regard to this human injustice.  He works diligently to combat child prositituion in Phoenix.  You can check out some amazing work of his organization here. 

For the rest of my pictures of my weekend in Ghana (and definitely more uplifting!) check out this link here.

Fall Newsletter

The first Newsletter is finished!  You can read it here.

Alba's Tears

This is a story written by Megan, who works in the Communications department here.  Alba was on the ward about two months ago.  I remember seeing her before her surgery with her rag over her mouth (to cover her tumor - not only the sight but also the smell) and she was so shy!  The story is a good representation of what so many of our patients experience.  Their lives are radically changed for the better after a successful operation.  This story was nicely done so I thought it would be a good one to share...

Ankosua was outside carefully mixing herbs and water to create a concoction prescribed by a traditional doctor in her village. It was mid-afternoon, and her daughter, eight-year-old Alba, was sitting alone in their home. “She should be at school right now,” she thought. Struggling to hold back tears, she poured boiling water over the crushed herbs and sieved the mixture into a cup.

Two years earlier, an outgoing and vivacious Alba was attending school with her friends. Now, she spent her days hiding in a dark room, too insecure to look people in the eyes.

When the drink had cooled, Ankosua walked inside the home and handed Alba the cup. Taking the cup, Alba tilted her head back, creating a small gap between her cheek and the large tumor that filled her mouth. Slowly, she poured the liquid into the small gap and swallowed in intervals. While she watched her daughter struggle, Ankosua thought back to the day she first spotted the small bulge on Alba’s gum line. Never could she have imagined the fear and discouragement it would cause her heart.

After Alba had drunk the entire cup, she began crying. Ankosua couldn’t bear looking into the tear-stained eyes of her daughter. Slowly, she wrapped her arm around Alba, who then buried her head on Ankosua’s chest. As Alba’s tears collected on her shirt, Ankosua did her best to be strong.

But Ankosua was depressed. Alba had performed this routine hundreds of times, but the tumor hadn’t gone away. In fact, it was growing. At times, it felt like it was shooting out of her mouth, causing her great pain. Ankosua realized the traditional herbs were not working. There were no other options. All she could do was keep trying and pray the herbs would begin to work.
***********
“When the tumor first appeared, my husband and I took Alba to the hospital, but we didn’t have money to pay for it, so they wouldn’t treat her. We had to use traditional medicine,” said Ankosua. Alba was taken out of school so her mother could give her the traditional medicine daily.

When asked how the community treated Alba, Ankosua stared at the floor and remained silent. After a 10-second pause, she looked up, her eyes filled with tears, and she painfully replied, “Some people received Alba with good hands. They prayed for her and encouraged me. But others shunned her. They said, ‘Go away, we don’t want to see you.’”

Whenever it was time to eat or drink, Alba hid herself from other people. If she went out in public, she kept the tumor covered with a rag. It served as a disguise and caught the foul-smelling and constant drainage.

After two years of watching her daughter struggle, a woman in her village told Ankosua of a hospital in Benin that was performing free surgery. Finally – a glimmer of hope! They scrounged to get enough money for transportation and traveled to the hospital, which was hours away.

However, Ankosua’s new-found hope quickly morphed into deep disappointment.   “We were there for two days, and nobody attended to us. I asked a woman who worked there why we weren’t being helped. She said, ‘They don’t do surgery for free, you have to deposit money.’ I trembled when she told me that. I had come with nothing,” said Ankosua sadly.

After Ankosua explained that she had no money for treatment, the woman told her about Mercy Ships. “This woman had heard Mercy Ships was in town, helping people and healing people for free. She gave me directions to the Africa Mercy, and I immediately went,” Ankosua added.
****
Still attached to noisy monitors and IV fluids, Alba had been dozing in and out of sleep since returning to the Africa Mercy ward. Finally, a few hours after surgery, she opened her eyes and sat up. Seeing she was awake, Becca, her nurse, came to Alba’s bedside and handed her a small mirror.

Alba looked down, paused in a state of bewilderment, and began touching the empty space on her mouth. The tumor was gone. After 20 seconds of staring, a single tear rolled down her cheek. With great determination, she tried not to cry. But another and then another tear soon followed. Finally, she gave up trying to hold them back and cried freely. Alba’s tears were earned through years of heartache and rejection. They were mature and raw – heavy tears for an eight-year-old to cry.

Ankosua stood next to her bed the entire time, carefully observing her daughter. When Alba began crying, she turned away. Ankosua couldn’t bear looking into her tear-stained eyes. After two hopeless years of discouragement and depression, healing had finally come. The mixture of joy and pain in that moment expressed itself in tears.

When Alba regained her composure, Ankosua returned to the bedside. Carefully, she wrapped her arm around Alba, who then buried her head on Ankosua’s chest. As Alba’s tears collected on her shirt, Ankosua did her best to be strong. But her heart was too overwhelmed with joy. Tears of relief and joy flooded her eyes as well.  They sat and cried together, each tear serving as a testimony to the transforming power of God’s mercy.

Some thoughts on African Efficiency

According to dictionary.com: efficient (i-fish-uh nt), an adjective, means performing or functioning in the best possible manner with the least waste of time and effort; having and using requisite knowledge, skill, and industry; competent; capable.

When I think of the African way of living these ideas aren’t the first to come to mind. However, there are some things that I just love about Africans and their efficiency…

Africans know how to pack stuff in. Driving hazard perhaps?

Lets hope there are no sharp turns!

Need a place to sleep? No worries – you’ve got the hammock under the truck

Banana Anyone?

They women carry babies on their backs everywhere - even while bowling

Or doing hair

Construction efforts involve local branches – how resourceful!

But my all time favorite event in regard to African efficiency occurred just this week

My friend Scott, whom I know from Phoenix, was working here as an anesthesiologist. We went out to dinner and had the most inedible chicken I’d ever attempted to consume - skinny chicken as they call it here. The waitress came over, took one look at our plates (which were as far as you could get from the clean plate club) and asked if we were done.  We replied “yep, we are full” (translation: we couldn’t even cut the chicken let alone ingest it!) She then proceeded to compile our leftovers including our chicken bones, meat, mushy fries, and ketchup, putting half in a to-go box and the other half on one of our plates. Here’s where the African efficiency comes in….she then served the compiled leftover dish to the table next to us, and gave our mushy, half-consumed fries to some guy walking down the street.  Only in Africa! =)