Door of No Return

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

August 10, 2007

After spending several days back in my hometown of Nalerigu, it was time to leave…again.  But not before I ate some catepillars and got attacked by a monkey (ask me to show you the scar!).

Probably the pinnacle of my sadness was in the airport in Tamale.  In fact (oh, this is so embarrasing)…I completely broke down when I was in line to pay for my ticket.  It seems that it is a part of the culture in northern Ghana to laugh at tears, but if anyone was laughing at the crying salminga, I didn’t notice.  I paid for my ticket, then collected myself in the afore-mentioned bathroom.  Funny, this time the bathroom seemed pretty clean and presentable.  I must have caught it on a bad day on my way in.

Tiffany and I drew up a contract over a bet that was made on the busride to the airport.  She bet that in 4 years I would be married and have at least one child.  So, if she loses, she will have to pay for our return trip to Nalerigu, and if I lose, then I will pay.  Either way, we will get to come back!

We had a couple of nights in Accra before we headed out, so Tiffany and I tried to lay aside our sorrow over the looming departure and enjoy some of the sites.  Fusheni took us to Cape Coast where we toured Cape Coast Castle and walked along the Rainforest canopy walk at Kakum National Park.  We ate lunch at this strange little place that offers lunch in an outdoor setting next to a pond that is populated by croccidiles.  There were also a whole bunch of those finches that build their nests hanging from branches, like you see on National Geographic.  It seemed pretty unreal.  Cape Coast Castle was beautiful, and it was very enlightening to tour the inner workings of a slave castle.  There are several changes they have made to the castle to signify/celebrate the end of slavery.  One example is this door labeled the “Door of No Return”.  We were assured by the guide that we would indeed return, even after passing through.  This was the door that slaves passed through to board the boats that were headed to various parts of the world on the slave trade routes, never to be seen again.  On the other side, a new sign was hung, saying “Door of Return”.  It is hard to imagine the level of fear that these people must have experienced being forced to live in such awful conditions, then if they survived it all, to be expected to loyally serve the person who bought them.

The treetop walk at Kakum was beautiful.  I can’t wait until I have my pictures developed; I will have to post some here.  There were a series of planks suspended hundreds of feet in the air, going from tree to tree.  There was a net surrounding the plank, so even if you lost your balance you would be okay…I think.  I tried to start a game of who could walk the most steps without holding on, but it didn’t catch on.

Tiffany and I had planned in advance to spend Monday big-timing it at La Palm before we flew out.  So, we spent the day lounging around in the wonderful equitorial sun, swimming in paradise.

But eventually it was time to return to the guest house, time to do our final packing, and time to check in for our 2am flight.

The airport in Accra is one of the most disorganized grouping of long lines that I have seen, and that means something.  If Fusheni hadn’t come to the airport with us to help us and say goodbye, I am afraid that we all would have had some less than treasurable last few moments in Ghana.  But as it was, we were able to end our trip in an appropriately ceremonial way.  Tiffany and I had come up with a somewhat silly, but deeply felt way to say goodbye to Ghana.

Just before stepping on the stairs that led up to our plane, we each kissed the palm of our own hand, bent down to touch the tarmac, and then kissed our palm again.  The officer at the bottom of the stairs watched us curiously, and I guess it must sound pretty goofy and or strange to you, but it was our way of saying goodbye to Ghana and promising to return if possible.

These two months spent in Ghana have been life-changing; and saying it like that is so cliche and inadequate.  It is so big that I find myself incapable of encompassing the magnitude of the affect this trip has had on my life in meer words.  I think it would need music, it would need pictures, tastes, and volumes more to even begin to convey how much I have learned about myself, God, and people who have given their lives to His service.  It was convicting, and it was inspiring.  It was heart-breaking, and it was soul-searching.  It tore me down to who I really am, and it built my vision up of who I will be.  Nothing in my life has been so indescribable.

My sadness in leaving Ghana in that last minute was overwhelming.  I couldn’t help but think when walking through that plane door of the Door of No Return.  But I immediately comfort myelf with the sign on the other side, and the hope that some day I will come back through the Door of Return.

Really Long

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

July 30, 2007

So much has happened, I am afraid that this post will not be able to contain it all.

My feelings about Manna continued to make it a hard place for me to be.  I ran into some financial troubles on a Friday (meaning I had no money, and I had no Erl*), and I decided I needed to go back to the Baptist guest house and write a check to get more.  It would have been a great solution…if Jimmy had been at the guest house.  But Jimmy was not at the guest house.  He is the man who is in charge of running the guest house in Accra, and he had locked the office and the money safe.  It turned out that I had used my last few cedis for the taxi ride to get out to the guest house, so I decided my best and only option was to remain there until I could figure some way to get more money.

How I eventually got money is a long, complicated, and mostly boring story which ended in me walking away from a Ghanaian bank, triumphantly packing an envelope stuffed with cedis.

The weekend I spent at the guest house in Accra came to be more than just me getting money, however.  On Monday morning I met a medical student named Tristan, who is from London.  He was telling Fusheni how was supposed to be going up to the BMC, and that he was interested in saving money on the flight by taking a bus.

This was my chance, and I took it!  I made the decision to travel back to Nalerigu for my last few days in Africa, and then travel back down with Tiffany and Dr. Parkin.  I was so excited, it felt like I had decided to go home!  I discovered a home-sickness at Manna that I have never experienced before.  Nalerigu really has become my home away from home, and my longing for it combined with the opportunity to travel safely with a companion made for an easy decision.

Monday was spent purchasing tickets and making sure everything was lined up for my return trip.  I also experienced a different side of Ghana!  There is a five star resort hotel on the coast near Accra, with rooms that cost 250-300 dollars a night.  The trick is, though…you can use the pool for only $8 for the whole day! This may not sound like much, but if you can picture a multi-teired, multiple waterfall, palm tree, exotic, entirely amazing five star pool, then perhaps you could understand my enthusiasm.

Tuesday Fusheni took Tristan and I to the bus station for our trip to Tamale.  Now, I had not experienced the finer side of bus travel in Ghana yet, and when we found our seats in the back row, I hardly knew what to do with all of that leg room and air conditioning!  That was a loooooong bus ride, but Tristan turned out to be this amazingly entertaining British guy with a hilarious sense of humor, so the trip did not seem as long as it would have without him.  They also played some African movies on the ride, which was entertaining.  I wish I could bring some African Magic tv home to show you guys, because there really isn’t any way to explain adequately what it is like.  It is very melodramatic, and it makes me think of the middle school counselor who was a budding play write and who had come up with the theatrical genius of a line that starts “Now-uh Tony was-uh married to Maria…”.  For those of you who do not know what I am refering to, it means that Africa Magic is magically lame.

We got to Tamale late on Tuesday night, and stayed in the guest house there.  The next day a couple of people from BMC came to drive us up to Nalerigu!

I was so excited, I couldn’t stop thinking about seeing the twins again, and the main road through town, with the women sewing and making foo foo, and the children waving and yelling “Salminga!”.  Also, I was looking forward to being re-united with all the friends I had made during my month and a half there.  Rainy season had finally come full on in the north, and it rained for most of the drive.  As we turned East from Walewale, I could hardly stand it.  It was an overwhelming feeling to be riding over those red dirt roads again, and it felt like I was going home.

I nearly cried when we made the turn into Nalerigu.  There it all was, just as I had left it only two weeks ago.  It felt like I had been gone for an eternity!  Looking back towards the market, I saw Yisah’s wife, Joyce; it took her a second to recognize me, then she was smiling and waving, welcoming me home.

On arrival to House 6, there were lots and lots of hugs going around, and that evening was spent catching up with Tiffany.  It was so good to have a female listening ear and companionship!  Tiffany, if you read this later, I know you will get my meaning.  When I first met Tiffany, I was like….I’m not too sure about this girl.  I tend to be very selective on which girls I will be good friends with, and when I first met her I must admit I was skeptical.  But after spending several days with her, I realized that she was just the kind of girl who could become a very good friend to me.  And returning to her friendship was something I needed.  We had lots to talk about, and I really feel like she taught me some important things about myself, and let me see some things in her life that has taken her to where she is now.  It was quite a blessing and an encouragement to have her as a friend.

Dr. Faile and Dr. Hewitt were still gone from BMC, but there was a large team of doctors and nurses from the states, some from Georgia, and some from Boston.  I was able to shadow several of them on rounds at the hospital.  On the last day, I even got to perform my first incision!  It was an I&D, which stand for incision and drainage, of an abscess on this young girl’s neck.  It seemed a little counter-intuitive that my first incision be made in the vicinity of the carotid artery, but her, you have to start somewhere!

Some melancholy news that Tiffany had for me the night I arrived was that Fusena and Asena had become well enough to go home, and my girls were no longer at the Nutrition Center.  I really was happy that they had improved enough to leave, but it was hard to take because I had looked forward to seeing them again.  The best friend of the twins’ mother, Fhati, was still there with her son, Iduisu.  When I saw her again, she cried, and she kept grabbing my hand and holding onto it.  It affected my very much how everyone welcomed me back so gladly.  It was funny, some people felt they were seeing a ghost, looking at me, then staring, then interrogating me!

The boy that David and I had visited every day in isolation ward was still there.  He looks so much better!  He is still needing dressings, but his wounds are finally closing.  God must have done some good work, because that boy had so much pus in his body, logic says that he really should have died.

I need to go for now, but I will continue the story in a short while.

The Cape Coast

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

July 22, 2007

Elmina is a beatiful, bustling fishing town.  It also smells a lot like fish, but in a way that you can easily learn to love (some of you will understand my appropriate mention of Mr. Snow here).

Our first morning there, we chartered a driver to take us to a more remote village called Nzulezo.  You could think of it as the African version of Venice.  A lean African man, poled our way down a man-made canal, through a jungle of water-loving rafia trees (the trunks are covered with rafia!  you know…the kind you use to make home-made stuff look real nice?) to this village that is built on stilts in a lake.

When we docked in the village, my attention was easily dominated by the two small monkeys tied up to a bench.  On of them was scared of me, but the other one got closer and closer, until it was just climbing all over me, playing with my bracelet and my hair.  I want a monkey like that!  It’s little hands were so cute.  Maybe if I never have children…hmmmm.

The village itself was a little sad.  We came to understand that the village is supported mainly off of the money collected from tourism.  Almost all of the adults we saw were lying around sleeping.  Perhaps it was just a siesta equivalent for them, but it seemed depressing at the time.  The children seemed very used to seing brunis (as white people are called on the coast of Ghana), and I was recruited at one point to help with homework in their floating school house.  It was a good photo opportunity, but I’m not sure I will have much feeling behind the results.

The canal ride was worth it, though.  It really was an unusual experience.  And when we got back to the coast, we waded in the ocean for a bit, which was really nice.

The next day we had time to walk around Elmina for a while.  There is a castle there and a fort.  I don’t think I have down which is which, but one is Portugese, and one is Dutch.  We went inside the fort, but the castle tour price was a bit steep, so we just walked around it and had lunch in it’s restaurant.  We also took a walk through the less touristy parts of town, just to mingle with the people.  One of my favorite places we went to in Elmina was the beach.  There were some fishermen hanging out there, and the boys talked with them while I played with the children.  All of the kids were excited to sit down and touch the bruni bisia (white woman), except one small child that was being carried by an older kid.  It was one of those children that fussed and turned away if I got too close.  I think once that kid had seen me interact with the others for a while, he changed his mind, and he was vying for my attention like the rest.  The kids were all showing me their muscles (oh, man, thas was hilarious, I wish I had it on video), and these small children’s biceps put me to shame!  They are buff!  So, I was shocked when I felt a sharp pain in my right wrist, and I looked over and that little kid who was scared of me at first was biting me!  He let go and grinned at me, so awnry.  I think he was just trying to get my attention, but I had to keep the other kids from beating him!  It did leave some teeth marks, but it didn’t break the skin or anything, so it was just a funny story, instead of a beginning of some horrible infection.

That evening we caught another one of those lovely public transport buses to Accra.  This one was a little roomier, in fact, where I was sitting, my knees weren’t even touching the seat in front of me!

We were really excited to be at the guest house, in a stable place, but it wasn’t going to be as easy as we thought.  We caught a taxi from the bus station who claimed to know where the Baptist Guest House was.

He did not know where the Baptist Guest House was.

An hour and a half later, and after multiple stops to ask for directions, we arrived at the Guest House.  We gave him his initially requested price for the fare, and only one dollar more when he complained that it was not enough.  It seemed a little hard, but he did lie and tell us he knew the place.  And we even had a map of how to get there, and somehow, he wasn’t able to follow it.  Anyways…

Elmina was a beautiful place; I wish I could have been there a while longer to do a more complete photography set.  It made me almost glad that my digital camera is broken, just because it was so appropriate for B&W film.

We all went to the African Art Market the next day, and spent all of our money.  We ate dinner at a place called Frankie’s, and I had…get this…a cheeseburger and a banana split!  It felt very strange to be sitting in an air-conditioned restaurant, eating such extravagant food.  I saw some pretty chunk Ghanain kids that night, and for some reason, it made me feel a little sick.  I guess I just couldn’t get the picture of all those malnourished kids in the nutrition center.  Most of the people that live in the Accra region or fairly wealthy and educated, and it is pretty rare that they are even aware of a place called Nalerigu where kids are dying of malaria and malnutrition.

Anyways, I don’t mean to end on a bitter note, it was just a hard adjustment to make.  I will update you on how my trip to Manna Mission Hospital took place, and the changes I have experienced last week.

Lake Bosomtwi

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

July 17, 2007

I woke up early the next morning with the faint light of dawn sifting through a curtained window next to my bunk bed.  What I saw when I pulled back the curtain was enough to make me rise immediately from bed and hurry outside.

Standing on the front porch, I tried to absorb the beauty of what was surrounding me.  Our hostel was perched on the feet of what looked like small mountains surrounding this beautiful lake.  There was mist hanging on the mountains, and a short walk took me to the edge of the lake.  The bottom of the lake was covered by stones, and it felt so dream-like to wade out into the water, and watch the local fishermen.

The fishermen were sitting astride long boards with a pot perched on the board in front of them.  They were all casting nets and gathering fish to put in the pot.  I remember thinking how lucky I was to be there, despite the difficult journey.  We read later that the lake was formed in the bottom of the youngest known crater on Earth!

We ate a breakfast of eggs, toast, and marmalade, reminding me of my love for that kind of breakfast I developed in Athens.  Our plan the night before had been to leave as soon as possible, but it was so beautiful, we didn’t end up requesting a cab to be called until 9am.  When the cab arrived, it was 12pm, and there was a woman in a nearby village who needed to go to a hospital, so we let her have our cab.  We finally headed out at 1pm.

It was another long day of riding South in a local bus much like school boy.  We actually had to travel back up to Kumasi first in order to get a bus to the coast.  Elisabeth had recommended that we stay in a cheap place in Elmina called the Bridge House.

We got to the Bridge House after dark, had dinner in the lobby, then took a cab to the resort that the Bridge House was a part of.  Everything at the resort was closed, but we decided to take a walk down the resort’s beach.  It was beautiful at night, with the waves washing over the soft, white sand, and crashing against the occasional black rock shelves.  We walked down the beach a ways, and I fell behind the boys.  I was watching the reflection of a particularly bright star on the edge of the wet sand as I walked.  The reflection would follow as I walked along in the dark, and it inspired me to some very abstract thoughts that I will not attempt to write here, about God, and how he guides us.

The boys had gotten a ways ahead, and I decided to just sit on the sand and wait for them to walk back to where we had left our shoes.  I laid back, not caring that I was getting sand all over me, and looked up at the stars.  The waves were crashing, and the temperature was perfect…I fell asleep.  When I woke up, it was notably darker, and there was a cloud cover that obscured the stars.   It was also a litter chilly, and I couldn’t see Josh or David, so I walked back towards where we had left our shoes, because I had  my yellow blanket there to warm up with.  As I became really close to where we had started, I was startled by a bright light being shone in my face, and by the man’s voice demanding “Where have you BEEN!?”.  It wasn’t David or Joshua’s voice, but the voice of the guard they had recruited to help search for me.  When they had walked back by where I was, they had not seen me on the sand, and had been running up and down the beach yelling my name for about 20 minutes.

Joshua seemed very relieved to have found me, but David was quiet.  I had learned early on with David that quiet is not a good thing, and that he must have been really upset.  I found out later that he was prepared to be very angry with me, but when he found out that I hadn’t decided to just go on my own little adventure, but had fallen asleep, he just wasn’t quite sure what do with all of that prepared anger, so he just kept quiet.  I found out later that he couldn’t help but think what could of happened, like being kidnapped and sold into unpleasant industries of Africa.  I made a more conscious effort for the rest of the trip to never lose sight of them.

The Million Cedi Cab Ride

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

July 15, 2007

It was an early and melancholy morning when we left the BMC.  I had stayed up the night before, doing laundry, packing, and….well, baking banana cake.  We had purchased a large amount of bananas for that purpose, but I hadn’t gotten around to it until the night before I left.  The next morning I discovered that Betty Crocker really knows how to make bananas, oil, and flour taste really good together!

We rode with Peter Faile to Tamale, and were dropped off at the very same bus station I had come to know and love on my first day in Ghana.  David and Josh hadn’t had the joy of public transportation yet, so we decided to travel to Kumasi the cheap way.

All of the public transport buses around Ghana have some title or name printed on them, and usually the name has some conotation with a biblical concept or story; sometimes it seems more like a random association of English words.  The name of our bus was “School Boy”.  Oh, school boy.  We spent so many hours crammed in your back seat.

If it hadn’t been for David sharing his ipod, I don’t think I would have looked back very fondly on this portion of our journey.  However, misery with a soundtrack is somehow acceptable.  School Boy had some kind of mechanical problem along the way, and we gratefully took a stretch break while the driver checked it out.  When School Boy started driving away without any passengers back towards town, all I could think about was my complete lack of any personal possession.  And don’t mistake this with materialism; my concern centered around my passport…and every other form of identification.  I took comfort in the fact that the local Ghanaian passengers didn’t seem too concerned.  We were prepared for a 2-3 hour wait on the side of the road, so we were pleasantly surprised to see School Boy coming over the hill towards us.  As we were getting on, the driver excitedly held up a small piece of broken metal, apparently the one responsible for School Boy’s problem.

We finally arrived in Kumasi around sunset.  The city was larger than I had pictured, and in the dusk it seemed eerie and sad.  There was a sullen crowdedness about the streets we drove through, and I was glad to be with friends.  When we arrived at the station, we weren’t having very much luck with finding a cab driver, or anyone for that matter, who knew of “Rainbow Garden Village”.  This was the name of the hostel David had found on the internet for us to stay that night, but no one knew of it.  Thankfully (?) David had the number written down, and we were able to pay a person for the use of their mobile phone.  The general direction was received after a while, and it was decided that the driver of School Boy would kindly take us the supposedly small distance left to Rainbow Garden Village.  Little did we know…

There were two men, in addition to the driver, on School Boy who worked with the people who owned the van.  They also accompanied us on our ride.  I stopped counting the number of times we stopped to ask directions after five.  The directions given were mostly in a different language, and all I could hear was “lakeside”.

The men realized that this was going to be a longer drive than they had thought, but they seemed determined to see us to the end.  When we finally saw a sign pointing right to RGV, I was elated.  It was a long and cramped day, and I was ready to crash.  I wasn’t too concerned at the bumpiness of the drive when we turned off.  Of course, I was assuming that the hostel was very close now.

What happened instead was a progressive worsening of the condition of the road, culminating in School Boy perilously struggling over what looked like the remains of a rock slide.  It has been a long time since I have felt that terrified.  I remember once the road appeared to have a fork in it, but as I looked to the left, I realized that the “fork” was actually a short portion of road that ended in a precipice.  I was glad we had turned right instead.

If we hadn’t been seeing signs every once in a while encouraging us that RGV was near, I might have requested to just be let out to walk in the African darkness.  It was such a relief to see the arrow point down to the ground instead of on up the road.  I had been standing for the latter portion of the drive, clutching the headrest of the seat in front of me.  I was convinced that if School Boy was going to tumble down, I should be holding onto something.  I felt a lot like crying after I got out, but instead I laughed hysterically.

We were greeted by the woman working there, though she was not expecting us.  It had been over a week since their last visitors.  She settled us in a nice little patio.  A fabulous painting of Bob Marley was hanging in the portico, and they turned on some music.  The men from the bus sat down with us.  One of the men was gladly smoking a cigarette.  At first, they were just relieved with us, but we were all tired, and it was time to discuss the price.

The man who appeared to be the head guy sat across from us at the bamboo table.  We asked him how much.  He replied, “One million cedis”.  We laughed…he did not.

Now, I don’t care if it is USD, or cedis; the phrase “one million” has an inherant shock value independent of the currancy it quantifies.  When we realized he was serious, there was some effort to disuade him from asking so much.  Then he seemed to get defensive, and agressive, quickly throwing out the expenses of them coming out there.  We were so tired, cramped, sore, and defeated from the road that we gave him $100 USD.  On top of that they required 2,000 cedis for each of the workers, 4,000 cedis for the boss, and on the way out demanded another 2,000 cedis to buy cigarettes.  We handed over the money.  This guy seemed serious…and tall, and the last thing we wanted was an outnumbered fight against some muscular African men in some deserted place.  It wasn’t until the morning that we were made aware of how big a price it was to make them go away.

No Bio

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

July 10, 2007

It is really difficult for me to grasp the idea that I have spent six weeks at Baptist Medical Center.  Even more difficult is the reality that I will be leaving it tomorrow morning.  I have said a lot of goodbyes today.  One of the hardest was when I said goodbye to my little twins, Asena and Fusena.  It has been such a long process with them, warming them up.  They started out with crying and shrinking away from David and I, and today, as we left them for the last time, both of them had their arms stretched out towards us.  Those two sweet babies gave us a much needed way to break away from the sadness we witnessed every day in the hospital, and for that I am very grateful.

Another person I am lamenting over the loss of is dear, dear, sweet Elisabeth.  This wonderful woman was thoughtful of my every need, including the needs that I could not even think of myself!  Though we will be apart, my memories of Elisabeth will forever be my mentor, teaching me endurance and patience, and the deep-seated love it takes to care for and comfort a man under great pressure.  This morning I was able to accompany her to a woman’s bible study that is held at First Baptist Church of Nalerigu.  It was a group of about 12 women who meet weekly to pray, read the bible, and then pray some more.  Our study today was over a verse in Psalm 27; it was a gentle reminder for me to make my desire to “dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life”.  That is such a simple mindset, but also one that is very challenging to maintain in our world, where tangible things are much more alluring.  One woman who came had a child on her back, and I didn’t really think much of it until prayer time.  She tearfully requested that we pray for her and this child.  She had been caring for this child’s mother, but the mother had died, and now she was caring for the child along with her six other children.  To top it off, on the ride home Elisabeth told me that her husband beats her and doesn’t provide anything for the family.  Many of the other women in the study face similar problems in their family.  Through Elisabeth’s ministry, she has created a way for these women to minister to one another in prayer, support, and fellowship.

Looking over the past couple of blogs, I realized that it would be easy for all of you reading to think that my journey here has been saturated with sadness.  There have been many sad things that I have witnessed here, but I want you to know that there have been a lot of joyful times here too.  Just today, there was a large group of children waiting at the house when we got back from the hospital.  Instead of moping around with the kids, it was suggested that we play frisbee.  And after playing frisbee for a while, it was further suggested that we play ultimate frisbee.  What an exquisite suggestion!  I had never played ultimate and neither had any of the African kids.  They picked it up really quickly, and impressed me with their competitive nature and ability to incorporate strategy in the game.  I haven’t really worked out for about a month and half and I was a sweaty, dirty mess (correction–I am a dirty, sweaty mess).

So, usually when I say goodbye to local people for the night, I can leave saying, “Bio, bio” which means tomorrow.  But I had to keep myself from saying it today.  I am excited to experience more of Ghana, but melancholy to leave BMC.  Tomorrow morning David, Joshua, and I hit the red dirt roads of Africa, to travel to Tamale, then to Kumasi, and ending in Accra on Saturday.  I will have limited access until then, but look for more posts starting Saturday.

Love you, miss you.

Sa

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

July 5, 2007

When I had been here for only about a week, I was asking one of the Ghanaian staff at the hospital how to say “How do you say?” in Mampruli.  I was understandably having trouble getting an answer to the question “how do you say how do you say?”.  It was raining that morning, and I used the rain as an example.  “How do you say rain in Mampruli?”  “Sa”, he replied.  “So, how would you ask, in Mampruli, what is that called?”  Turns out there are many multiple and complicated phrases to enquire the name of something, but the simplest was “Ka yuri?”.

Later that same day I noticed a bar of soap in the maternity ward with it’s wrapper still on.  “Sa”, it said.  Sa, underneath a picture of a blond-haired, blue-eyed woman, who I really doubt ever knew that “Sa” means rain in Mampruli.

Rain here is something that is prayed for.  It is the beginning of the rainy season, and farmers have planted their crops:  ground nuts (peanuts), maize, and millet.  With the first few rains, plants spring up quickly, but they suffer in the sun with the big gaps between rain.  The rain turns the red dirt here into red mud.  But it isn’t like the unpleasant, sticky mud found next to the Platte River, but more of a sandy mud that drys quickly, and is easy to sweep away.

Another thing the rain brings is an increase in the number of mosquitoes, and with that a flood of children in the wards ill with malaria.  And the worst thing that could have happened happened.  I got malaria.  I woke up Sunday morning, and felt like I had been hit by and/or sat on by a very large and angry animal.  Everything hurt and the headache that had started the night before had only increased.  I had a 10 minute conversation with David that I do not remember, after which I fell asleep again under a pile of blankets.  I didn’t get up until about 2pm, and was back in bed shortly after.  News traveled quickly to the Failes that I was ill, and they checked on me, and Elisabeth, always faithful in attending to my every need, brought me antimalarial medication.  I started it the next morning, and I have felt progressively better.  The best way I can describe it is like having the flu.  A no appetite, no energy, weakness, sore everywhere, lethargic, vomiting kind of flu.  I have been well-taken care of, and thank you to those of you who were praying for me back home, I know it must have helped.  Malaria kind of comes in cycles.  I will wake up some mornings feeling like I can take on a full day’s work at the hospital, then I will crash.  The other day, I fell asleep on the floor of the doctor’s office waiting for a surgery to be over.  I was there for 3 hours asleep!  Everyone had wondered where I went.  I was busy having malaria.

I have continued to get closer and closer to the twins.  They even reach for me sometimes now!  I visit them at least twice a day.  One day I took one of them to the work with me at the hospital, tied to my back the way the African women do.  Everyone in the wards thought it was hilarious, this salminga (white person) with an African baby on her back.

Asena slept most of the time, and so she wasn’t disturbed when I was part of a very traumatic experience in the adolescent ward.  Rounds were continuing through the wards as usual, and Dr. Faile, David, and I were visiting a patient who had had surgery on her arm to remove some infected bone.  The girl was doing well, and I was gazing around the room.  I noticed that a girl a couple of beds down seemed to be having trouble breathing.  I payed closer attention.  She was only breathing short gasps every once in a while.  Moving to her bedside, I repositioned her head, hoping to create an easier path for air to get into her lungs.  This did not seem to be improving her breathing.  Her eyes were open, but she was not reactive, not even when I dug my knuckles into her small sternum.  Dr. Faile had joined me, and he was looking on silently.  “There’s not much we can do”, he said.  I asked what she had, what was making her so sick.  “Malaria”.  The mother picked up on the tone and became very distressed, crying quietly.  At some point in the next few minutes someone moved her out into the hallway.  Dr. Faile had gone, and this girl was still making desperate little gasps for air, only every once in a while.

Pinching her nose closed with my fingers, I closed my mouth around hers.  If she couldn’t breath, I was going to breath for her.  Memories came back of the multiple times I had been tested on those CPR dummies, giving small breaths to fill their plastic lungs.  It was oddly similar, the way it felt, only there was a resistance to my air.  It felt as if I was blowing bubbles through a straw into a thick milk shake.  Dr. Faile was back.  I heard him say “pulmonary edema”.  Someone brought a manual ventilator.  Someone else brought a manual suction device.  I watched in silence as they tried to make her broken body move air and pump blood as if it hadn’t been fatally damaged by her infection.  I felt her pulse, and then I didn’t.  She died.

Going into the medical field, I knew that I would eventually see someone die, I just didn’t know it would be right then.  I didn’t know it would be that little girl.  I sat on her bed, feeling her warm arm, fighting back tears I felt were inappropriate.  Not that death doesn’t bring tears, but my tears weren’t from missing her.  They were from what felt like a selfish sort of sadness at her situation, and how it contrasted with my own.  We both had the same disease, but I lived and she died.

They wrapped her body in a sheet, and carried her away to be buried by her family.

I couldn’t hold it in much longer, so I found a quiet hallway in the back of the hospital, and I cried.  I untied the still sleeping Asena, held her sweet, living body against me, and sobbed.  I was glad the rain was falling hard on the tin roof, and I found myself thinking of it as Sa.  The word Sa is said softly in Mampruli, a blessing from the sky kind of sound.  I was comforted by the idea of this small child being in the presence of God, away from the short suffering of this world.

Waifu…feels like fish…tastes like chicken

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

June 25, 2007

It has been a long while since my last post; so long, that I doubt I will be able to contain all that has happened over the past couple of weeks within a post that doesn’t morph into a small novel.  I am still keeping my notebook updated with happenings and things that I see in the hospital, so I will flip through and pick out the stories that have had the most impact on my stay in Nalerigu so far.

First I will bore you with the educational component of my stay, though it is anything but boring to me.  Clinic has been a gigantic learning experience, and at first it was a bit daunting.  There are multiple factors that add the the challenge of clinic, the biggest of which are the language barrier and the difference of 3rd world medicine.

At a certain point, Elisabeth was kind enough to think of giving me a list of the mediations that were available at the hospital pharmacy.  This became a foundation for learning how different diseases were treated at BMC.  Every time I learn of a new disease, I write down prescribing information next to the drug.  After a few clinic days, I was allowed to see a few patients of my own; simple ones with HTN, or sometimes some seizure disorders.  Eventually, I ended up working in Dr. Faile’s office as a student team with David.  We get some pretty interesting patients, and Dr. Faile is always right there for us to ask questions if we are completely lost (this happens embarrassingly often, as we often get people with strange lumps in strange places).  We also see a lot of Dr. Faile’s post-op patients, making sure their incisions are healing well.  I have also done more pelvic exams in the past couple of weeks than many students do in a year’s worth of outpatient clinic.  Also, I have done more rectal exams than many avoidant students will do in their entire schooling!

It hasn’t been all work, though.  A big group of people from Georgia, who went to the same college as Peter Faile, came out to Nalerigu to see Peter’s home town.  They were really a fun group, fully equipped with bubbles, frisbees, balls, nail polish, string, beads, and pipe cleaners!  They really had fun with the kids in the schools, and with all of the inpatients.  A lot of the smaller children are very scared of the white people, and will cry when we get to close.  So, it was probably good that this group came in with pleasant things like bubbles and stickers, instead of sharp needles like the rest of the white people these kids know!  There are twin girls at the nutrition center every day, and on our way to and from lunch, David and I often stop to coo at them.  They are malnourished, but adorable, with these HUGE eyes.  They put eyeliner on their babies here, and that only makes them look even more doll-like.  They aren’t too enamoured of us, though.  In fact, when we get within a few feet, they start fussing and reaching for their grandmother.  Today, though, I got very close, and decided to just go ahead and pick one up…she cried.  And I thought “what a selfish mistake”.  But they are adorable even when crying!  So, on my way back to the hospital from lunch, I stopped again, and guess what!  It was the first time one of them actually smiled at me!  I was so excited, but I stayed a ways away, so I wouldn’t discourage this new habit.

The group from Georgia, Elisabeth, David, Peter (a doctor working in a village past Nalerigu), Brittany (a nursing student), Peter, Emily, Katie and I headed out one day for a hike to the escarpment at Nakpanduri.  The hike ended with a pretty good rock climb up to the edge of the escarpment.  Dad…you would not have liked this.  The drop to the valley below was pretty dramatic, especially considering the otherwise flat landscape that I have seen since being in Ghana.  We all sat on the rocks for quite some time, looking over this African plain, and thinking “hey, I’m living my dream…I’m in Africa”.

On the 9th, David, Dr. Hewitt and I attended a funeral for one of the men that used to work as a watchman for BMC.  It was surprisingly similar to Baptist-style funerals in the States, with hymns, and some scipture, and some words about the man’s life.  But…it was all in Mampruli, and they buried the guys right in front of his hut.  The men in the community had dug the hole themselves, and buried him in a small coffin, right there during the ceremony.  Another difference was that they collected an offering before nailing the coffin lid shut.  Everyone, even the family, went around the coffin, dropping money in a bucket.

Church wasn’t an entirely shocking experience.  It was a little bit frustrating to have most of the service in Mampruli, especially the music.  The music they have is very lively, and VERY loud.  I wanted to join in, but without knowing the words or their meaning, I was at a lost.  I did join in on the dancing, a little bit at first.  David has become quite popular for dancing at churches.  He picked up on the native way of dancing, and people stick money to the sweat on his forehead.  We found out later that the money always goes into the offering, and is way people can show appreciation for the worship.  It is kind of strange, but a different way of worshiping.  They also held a blessing for a newborn child.  Every child goes through this ceremony, and an offering is taken up, and the congregation is asked to give he child their Christian name.  At this particular service, a young man in the band raised his hand and named the child.

I completed my first human sutures on 6/13!  I was SO EXCITED.  My hands shook, but it didn’t matter.  This woman had undergone a lipomectomy, which is basically a procedure to remove a big, benign fat tumor.  I will post a picture of it on this blog later on.  Since that first one, I have also closed a coule of surgeries, including a hernia repair, and a c-section.  My hands have stopped shaking as much.  I don’t know why, but suturing is one of my favorite things to do!  It just feels so satisfying to actually be DOING something that absolutely needs doing.  I have also had a lot more experience in the OR.  I will post stats in a different post, but I am learning more and more every surgery day.  In a fix, I could probably manage a C-section, but hopefully that will never happen!

There have been some challenging times as well.  Slowly, over the past few weeks, I have been face to face with a lot of physical suffering.  I don’t think I was really processing it so much, I have been so busy, but it all came tumbling out of me when I met a man on 6/20.  This man came into outpatient clinic with his family.  While waiting to be seen, he had been moved a ways away from the seating area because other patients were complaining of his smell.  When he came in, he had a cloth draped over his head, like a shawl.  And he did smell, but it wasn’t unbearable.  When he took off the cover, it was obvious where the smell was coming from.  He had a gigantic mass on his left jaw line that was basically festering and rotting.  It was a parotid tumor that had gotten out of control, then become infected.  I sat in the room with him and his family as Dr. Faile told them that there was nothing he could do.  Operating was too dangerous with its location, and chemotherapy isn’t much of an option in Nalerigu.  The family cried.  In Nalerigu, you do not see many adults cry, and the impact was deep in me.  Beyond the family crying, was the silence of the man; the look in his eye that seemed to by void of any hope.  This man was already dead.  The emotions became overwhelming as I recalled seeing a man slowly dying from massive infection in the isolation ward, and the extremely malnourished skeleton of a child with HIV, whose cry was no more than a weak whimper.  I found myself needing to pray and cry.  I know God is just, and that He is sovereign, but I couldn’t get those images out of my mind.  I spent some time trying to remember my purpose on earth, and reconciling the ideas of healing, and of the shortness of life.  After I was done, I went back to clinic, but I have continued to see things that are absolutely heart breaking every day, and I wonder if I will ever be hardened to it all.  Today I saw a child from the infection isolation ward getting yet another abscess drained.  This boy is just covered with bandages.  He has some mysterious infection where he is getting abscesses all over his body, almost a new one every day.  Unlike the man with the parotid tumor, he is still trying, but barely.  David and I held his hands and stroked the skin on his back that was peeking through the bandages while he had an abscess on his chest cut open.  At least a cup and a half of pus poured out of him, and it was horrifying.  So, every day is a new challenge, and a new joy.  It is such a mix of emotions.

This past Saturday Brittany, David and I decided we would hike up into the hills at a quarter past 4 to watch the sunrise.  It would have been beautiful…if we had known the way…and if it hadn’t started a downpour half way through.  We turned around when it started raining, but we were still about 30 minutes out.  We were soaked and, surprisingliy, COLD!  We all went back to bed for a while (I actually slept for a looong while).  When I got up, we decided to try again, and we ended up making it to the top of the hill nearby by picking our way through some of the farm country of the valley.  We were greeted by many farmers on our journey, which lasted four hours.  It felt good to actually get out into the countryside and explore a bit.  We met a man out in a field who didn’t speak an English word except “bye, bye!”.  I have a picture of him, which I will post later.

I made a pineapple upside down cake after dinner, and it tasted deep fried!  I ran out of margarine part way through, and I had to use oil, so I guess it kind of was deep fried.  It was rich, but good, and it is all gone!

Sunday was quite an eventful day, and I know if I don’t write about it now, I will be completely unable to catch up later.  David and I went to the Assemblies of God Church because David was giving an abstinence/HIV talk later that night there.  It was by far my favorite church to go to in Ghana so far.  They sang some hymns in English, and there was such a sense of worship there.  It was Children’s Day in the church, and they did a short play about obedient versus disobedient children that was very adorable.

After church we wandered into the market (it was a market day).  We were looking for foo foo when we ran into Immanuel.  He actually approached us and introduced himself to us.  He said he worked as a messenger at the city council building, and he would like to show us his office.  We told him we were looking for foo foo, and he showed us where we could get some.  He sat across from us as we ate soup and mashed yams with our fingers (David brought hand sanitizer this time!).  When we were finished, he absolutely devoured what was left, practically fitting his entire hand in his mouth.  When he was done, we were lead to an “office building” in town, and shown inside to his office.  The building looked more like one you would see at the Sedalia State Fair, maybe with a swine contest or something.  But his office was enclosed, had a desk, complete with piles and piles of documents.  There wasn’t a light, but he left the door ajar, and helped us into some plastic lawn chairs.  He was about to explain more about his job there, when he was inerrrupted by a couple of men yelling outside.  He went back outside and was arguing with them for a while, and when he came back he apollogetically explained that we were being required to approach the local chief, to be questioned about our interest in the city affairs.

The chief was sitting under a protective awning in a back street of the market.  We approached bowing low, and clapping.  I was told “woman do not clap, they do this” and shown how to do the challenging snap greeting that women use.  I tried it, and I guess it was accepted.  There was quite a bit of discussion back and forth between the chief, Immanuel, and the accusers.  Immanuel mentioned our work at BMC, and it was like he had said the magic words.  The Chief chief, the Nijiri, hold the BMC and all those who work there in high regaurd, so this Chief would not be the first one to punish volunteers from there.  He apologized for the mistake, reprimanded the accusers, calling them drunkards, and insisted that we be taken to greet the junior brother of the Nijiri.  The Chief’s name was “Dan” and he lived in a good house just off the market.  He was very welcoming, telling us that his house was our house and we were welcome any time.  He told us how he grew up with Dr. Faile, and how he was so facinated with George’s bicycle and white skin back in their shared childhood.

When we finally returned to BMC from our 5 hour trip to town, it was time for dinner, and I had promised to help Emily (Dr. Hewitt’s eldest daughter) make cookies.  I headed over there, and found out that Abby also wanted to make some kind of fancy chocolate-mint concoction.  So, we stayed up past their bedtime baking, and Mona was kind enough to offer me a drive home.  We were greeted at my house by a couple of the night gaurds.  They were beconing us to get out of the truck and had some news.  They had killed a snake!  This wasn’t surprising to me really.  Tons of people come in, bleeding from everywhere due to carpet vipor bites, and a cobra was killed near the schoolhouse the other night.  So, I wasn’t expecting to see this gigantic monster of a snake!  It looked like a boa to me at first, but apparently it was a python…a six foot python.  I convinced the gaurd to let me have it, though he seemed confused as to why I would want it.  I quickly woke up David, and he and I posed for pictures that Mona took for us.

Then I got an idea…and it involved the snake, and Dr. Peter.  Now, Dr. Peter works (worked) at a hospital in a village a ways from Nalerigu.  Unfortunately, his hospital was recently shut down by the government, and Peter had come that day to stay with us at BMC and help out.  My idea involved a morning wake up surprise in the form of a six foot python on his doorstep!

He took it very well, and actually enjoyed the joke.  When he left it there though, the woman coming to clean his house was not so entertained.  She dropped the bananas she was carrying and ran the opposite direction!  David brought the snake back to the house, and we decided to give it to Yisah to cook up for us.  Peter informed us that the word for snake is Waifu…so we had boiled waifu for lunch, and it really did feel like fish, but taste like chicken.  I ate a couple of segments, but David and Peter chowed down on it, consuming at least a foot of snake a peice.  And, (this is really gross) David ate the snake liver.  I couldn’t watch because I thought I might vomit.  But it was good, and we felt better about the snake’s untimely death after eating some.

And that is a big part of what has been going on.  I will try to be more prompt in posting my adventures in the remaining weeks.  I love you all, and miss you tons!  I hope all is well, and I look forward to seeing you again.

Rainy Season

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

Thursday, June 7th 

Tuesdays and Thursdays are procedure/surgery days at BMC.  There are also morning and afternoon rounds to visit inpatients.  When I found out it was going to be rainy season here during my stay, I was a little bummed out, but the weather has been beautiful!  And I have come to appreciate the rain.  It is sunny and hot most of the time, and every few days there is this wonderful tropical downpour that cools the air to a wonderful temperature.

The earth here is red because of the high clay content, and most of the people living in Nalerigu are farmers.  People come from many outlying communities to get health care at the center.  Money is required upfront for any surgery, which seems kind of harsh considering the poverty, but the hospital could not provide services to everyone if they functioned any other way. 

Patients: 7 males7 females 

Surgeries—4 inguinal hernia repairs, femoral sequestration, typhoid bowel perforation repair, amputation of the arm above the elbow, C-section 

Procedures—D&C, debridement 

Diseases—typhoid, meningitis, post-partum bleeding, eye trauma, inguinal hernia, osteomyelitis, cephalo-pelvic disproportion, compound fracture (untreated X 2 months) 

Mampruli: Tim—medicine; Foto Bla—“little picture”  (with camera); Foto titare—“big picture”  (x-ray)

En Yuri Leah

January 9th, 2008 Posted in INMED | No Comments »

Wednesday, June 6th 

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays are all clinic days at BMC.  I learned that there is a health care system in Ghana, if patients apply for it, so some of the patient’s coming in had forms for the doctors to fill out and sign, so they could pay for the visit.  It was a very busy morning and afternoon. 

Before clinic started, the workers at BMC have a devotion at 7:00am.  It was a good message from Psalm 121:5-7.  Most of it was in Mamprusi, but the pastor translated some of it into English.  “Our help comes from the Lord” seemed pretty relevant to me, considering the difficulties I had getting here, LOL! 

Patients at BMC are given a 4X6 card as a patient record.  As the patient has more visits, new cards get stapled to the previous ones, and patients who have been quite a few times end up with quite an accordion of a history. 

Emily and Peter were helping with patient check-in, taking blood pressures and recording weight.  David and I split up; I shadowed Dr. Hewitt, and he shadowed Dr. Faile.  Patient’s names would be called out loudly (no HIPPA here!) and they would come into the office where there was an interpreter and some very basic diagnostics.  As I mentioned before, there is a lab and a pharmacy, so labs and medication orders are written on the patient card, and those patients who were in need of a procedure or surgery were sent to wait on benches just outside the surgery ward.  Patient’s who were critical enough to be admitted were taken from the clinic. 

Lunch break is at 12 for an hour, and patients are accepted until 12:00pm for sign up.  After lunch, remaining patients who had checked in before noon are seen until they are all completed.  Procedures take place in the afternoon/evening, but surgery days are only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. 

It was a long and exhausting day, but also very exciting and rich with learning.  I became more familiar with the layout of the hospital, and how the system worked.  I am glad to be here, and to be learning so much.  Before I came, I had expected to be able to function more independently than I have been.  But medicine is so different here, with tropical disease, and with different ways of controlling chronic problems.  That added to the steep language barrier put me more in a position of learning.  I just hope I am not a burden to the doctors, but they are being so friendly and seem perfectly willing to teach, despite how overworked they are. 

I am keeping a journal of all of the patients and procedure I see, as well as writing down little thoughts during the day, and some of the Mamprusi that I am slowly learning.  Thank you, Amanda, for getting me my little book; I use it A LOT! I miss you all, and love you.  Pray for BMC, and for the doctors that work here, that they will be strengthened and encouraged continually. 

Patients:

31 male patients, 32 female patients(8 were pediatric) 

ProcedureàUS (Ultrasound), I&D (Incision and Drainage) 

DiseasesàHIV, snake bites, meningitis, soft tissue infections, HTN (hypertension), arthritis, COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease), asthma, SZ D/O (seizure disorder), osteomyolitis, abscesses, schistosoma haematobium, malnutrition, facial psoriasis, miscarriage, nephritic syndrome, bladder retention, breast cancer, GERD (gastro-esophageal reflux disease), blindess, oncocitiasis (river blindness), malaria 

Mampruli:Dinga wulla? à How are you?; Diswa à Fine; Desuba à Goodmorning; Ni i wantanga à good afternoon; Ni i zanoori à good evening; Aning wula à good evening (after dark); Sabesia à sleep; Isabesia à How did you sleep?; Ensabesia à I slept well.; Sa à rain; I yuri? à  What is your name?; En yuri à  My name is…; I la fia à  Are you feeling well?; Bun ma yuri? à What is it called?

Very Large Snail