Stories from the week

It's only Tuesday and I have so many things I want to talk about! But I'll try to condense...my roommate, Jo, went home to Wales on Monday. I will really miss her:( Here she is at her going away party (in the middle, Hannah - L, Prisca - R).

Monday started off badly (starting with Jo leaving) but ended on a happy note. Monday morning, we went to see our patient Yatta who has cervical cancer. She was in some serious pain and generally not doing well. Her family was taking her to her home village later that afternoon so her sister could start caring for her. Unfortunately, she will be leaving her 7 children behind in Monrovia. Four of her sons and one of her daughters were there and you can tell they really love their mom. So it was sad to see that she was going to leave them. However, she was going to her home village where her father lives. Her father disowned her when she became a Christian so we're praying for reconciliation between them. So this was the last time we would see Yatta.

After saying good-bye to Yatta, we went to visit our next patient Rose. When we got to her sister's house, everyone was looking really sad. Then they told us Rose had died last Thursday. It took us by surprise and it was a really sad situation. She left behind four children under the age of 7 - one is a baby. Here is a picture of Rose and her children. I am posting the photo so you can see that the people dying in Africa are real - not just statistics we read about in the newspapers in the U.S. about X number of people dying in Africa. Every person has a story and a family they are leaving behind. If Rose had been born in the U.S., she would not have died from this disease.

One of the gifts Jean gives to families is that she always tries to take family photos and then gives them multiple laminated copies so that the family has a remembrance. People here don't have cameras or photos - so in Rose's case, without a photo, her small children would never remember what she looks like. I think it is a precious gift.

After that sad visit, we picked up Candy and Kaka who I've already written about. Candy was actually smiling and laughing when we picked her up and she was smiling and laughing when we dropped her off. That was a good ending to the day - just seeing her laugh like a regular little girl was good for our hearts.

One of the fun parts of the job is interacting with all the children we come across. They are everywhere and I get to hand out a lot of suckers! The funny part is that many of them have never seen white people before and they are usually either curious or scared. Today, we were walking to a house and I saw this little boy about 3 years old walking down the street, happy and smiling. He then turned and saw us and he literally turned around and ran screaming down the street with both of his hands in the air. It was just hysterical! I think that's going to be one of the best memories of this whole experience.

Earlier, we were making a visit and we were sitting on the front porch with the family and all these kids would stick their heads around the corner or up over the porch to look at us. But if I went over to talk to them they would run. The woman we were visiting said they had never seen white people before. They were laughing but shy. The kids always warm up to you once you pull out your camera - they love to see themselves in the small camera window. Here are two sisters who were very fascinated by us. And next is a group picture of some of the neighborhood kids plus Jerry, our translator. He likes to be in the photos as much as the kids.

More kids - this is Lucky Girl on the left (yes, that's really her name) and Jessica on the right. Lucky Girl just laughed and laughed when she saw herself on the little camera screen.

Speaking of Lucky Girl's name, another funny name we ran across is Chinese Girl (the daughter of one of our patients). It feels really strange to call a little kid 'Chinese Girl.'

That's all for now. I hope the photos are giving you a feel for Liberia and the work God is doing here.

Peace,
Michele

Stories - Candy

Candy is an 11 year old girl who I got to see four times my first week on the job. She is very shy, especially around her dad and other adults. Candy has retinoblastoma (the same cancer I described in the previous post) and it requires that we clean the wound three times a week.

Candy and her father, Kaka, are from Cote D'Ivoire (that's Ivory Coast for us Americans) which is the country directly east of Liberia. They came to Monrovia in March of 2006 seeking treatment for her cancer. Her mom and siblings remain back in the Code D'Ivoire and Candy hasn't seen them since. Here's a picture of Kaka and Candy.

Unfortunately there is no treatment but Candy won't go home and Kaka is respecting her wishes. Candy believes if she goes home, she will die. Even though she isn't getting any treatment here, she doesn't understand and it's heartbreaking. It's heartbreaking to know she is away from her mom and family during her final months here. It's heartbreaking to know there is no treatment in Liberia for this cancer while almost no one dies from it in the U.S.

This is the hard part of the job. Kaka understands what is going on but he's trying to balance the hope Candy has with the harsh reality of the cancer. We could spend more time getting Candy to understand there is no treatment but what's the point - who's to say that we should take away every last bit of hope she has. If she lived in Monrovia, it would be easier but she doesn't. It's like she has to make a choice between the hope she has and spending her last months with her family. Ugh, it's horrible to think about.

She and Kaka are living in a rented room and we go to pick them up every Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoon. We take them to a local medical clinic where we can do her wound care. We play games (like Uno) or with play-doh while we wait for her pain medicine to kick in. Here's a picture of Candy with some play-doh jewelry I made for her. And you can see in this other photo that whereever we are (white people) there are children watching us!

We try to really make her feel special and love her and encourage her. On her last birthday, Jean had a birthday party for her on the ship with cake and presents and decorations. About 8 little girls from the crew came to celebrate with her.

Last Thursday, we brought her to the ship along with another 11 year old girl patient of ours, Grace, and Grace's twin sister Gloria plus the two dads, Kaka and William. Just so they could have some fun. We painted our nails and colored, ate peanut M&Ms and drank pop. Then we had lunch in the crew dining room. When the three girls were together, they talked and played and laughed. It was so great to see them smiling because they don't do a lot of that. Here are some photos from the day.

From left to right: Gloria, me, Candy, Jean, Grace.

Grace, Candy and Gloria up on Deck 7.

William (Grace/Gloria's dad), Jerry (our translator) and Kaka (Candy's dad). The men sat around and talked while we played elsewhere with the girls. Parents are generally pretty harsh with their children here (in my opinion) which is why we decided to separate the groups - the girls could play and talk without having to worry about getting in trouble. There is a huge difference between how they act around just Jean and me than when their dad's are around.

More stories to come!

Peace,

Michele

Stories - Korto

I've finished my first week in palliative care and I'm really tired. This job is far more tiring than working in the ward, physically, emotionally and spiritually. And it's awesome! There are so many things I could talk about, it's hard to know where to begin.

One of the best parts of the job is being out with people in their own environments, in their homes and neighborhoods. When we visit a patient/family, we go to their house and we usually sit out on their front porch or lawn or whatever they have in front of their house and we talk. There are always so many people around especially children. We visited a family today and there were 17 children sitting with us on the porch and almost all of them lived in the house. Here is a picture of them with our translator Jerry.

We currently have ten patients and four families of patients who have passed away that we visit, usually at least once a week. Some we visit multiple times a week if they need nursing care or if a patient is in the final stages of dying. Fortunately, none of the patients I have seen are in that final stage.

I am going to write about my patients but will leave out many details because I want to make sure I tell their stories without compromising their dignity. But my prayer is that as I write you get a sense of who they are and what their life is like and that you would pray for them and their families as you read.

Today, we started with a visit to the family of Korto. Korto was a three year old little girl who passed away just last week so I never got to meet her. She had retinoblastoma which is a childhood cancer of the eye(s). In the U.S., there are about 350 new cases of this cancer each year and the death rate is 5%. No one knows how many cases there are in Liberia but 4 of our original 22 patients have this. The death rate in Liberia for this cancer is 100%. There is no cancer treatment in Liberia.

Here is a picture of Korto's house. We hung out on this front porch with a million kids and lots of chickens.

We didn't get to talk to Korto's mother today as she was at the market selling her goods. There's no time off from work here to mourn the death of your child. Korto's grandma was home with all those children in the first picture as well as a few of her daughters and sons and sisters (there are so many people you can't keep track). Granny is an amazing woman. She was the primary caretaker for Korto as well as most of these children.

Here's a picture of some of the family. Left to right: Pastor, Korto's mom, Korto on her lap, Oumaru and Granny.

When asked how the family was doing, they say 'we are trying.' I interpret that to mean 'we are sad but moving forward.' I hope that's what it means - they won't talk about death or grief so that is all they will say - 'we are trying.' Nothing more. So we talk about other things.

Last week, during the final stages of Korto's death, Granny became a Christian. Her entire family is Christian (her brother is even a pastor which is why the one little boy is named Pastor) but she was a Muslim until last week. Today, she was joy-filled over this. She was excited to tell us about her new church and how they welcomed her. She was adamant that we know how much her heart has changed in the last week, even in the wake of grief. She said she has so much peace and love in her heart. And she was forgiven - over and over she kept saying this. Her family, obviously, is ecstatic.

Granny is unable to read or write but starting this week, she has been accepted into a literacy program so she is going to learn. I'm guessing she is in her 50s and she is thrilled with this opportunity. Fortunately, she understands the importance of education and all of the children in her household are going to school. Mercy Ships has helped by paying the registration fee for all of Korto's siblings. School in Liberia isn't free - that's why most of the children are not in school.

Since Jean and Granny were doing most of the talking, I was free to sit and watch and pray. I wish I could put into words what it felt like to be on that porch but I'm not sure I can. It felt like pure peace and true relationships. I was envisioning Jesus interacting with all of us and I could see his love for this family. I am absolutely confident that Korto is living in the embrace of Jesus right now.

Tomorrow, I will tell you about Candy, an 11year old girl from Cote D'Ivoire, also with retinoblastoma.

Peace,
Michele

New job

I started my new job in palliative care on Monday and it has been awesome, everything I hoped it would be so far! I can't say much right now as I'm so tired - I'm switching back to a day work schedule from a night schedule (I went to bed at 6 pm last night). But I wanted to post some photos I took as we were driving out in the city and countryside to travel to our patients homes. We've really been using the four-wheel drive option on the Land Rover!

Traffic jam on Jamaica Road thanks to the cows.

You don't see this much in West Des Moines!

Trying to decide if we can make it through this. The photo doesn't do the treacherous nature justice. We backed up and went another way. Jerry, our translator, is on the right and a local man on the left.

The walking bridge over a flooded road. The flood didn't stop the cyclist but he tipped over in the water about 3 feet later.

Two new friends. One is the daughter (L) and the other is the sister of one of our patients, Leah, who died last month. We went to visit the family to see how they were doing.

Clearing amongst a group of homes we walked through to get to Leah's house.

Jean with some friendly neighbors. You can see the tire in front of the girl on the right - that is the rim to their well and they were getting water.

City of Monrovia

The ship I live on, the Africa Mercy, is currently in port in Monrovia, Liberia until November 30. Monrovia is the capital city of Liberia and has a population of about 1.5 million. Monrovia is actually named after James Monroe, the fifth president of the U.S. Prior to that it was named Christopolis named after Jesus Christ. What were they thinking??? Notice the Liberian flag next to the map - it is very similar to the U.S. since Liberia was founded by freed U.S. slaves.

The country spent 14 years in three different civil wars from 1989 - 2003. A democratically elected president, Madame Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf, was elected in November 2005 and since then Liberia has experienced a fragile peace due to 15,000 UN peacekeeping troops. The troops are very visible, especially to Mercy Ships as we have to enter their checkpoint to get to the ship and their barracks are right next door to us. In fact, we (meaning Mercy Shippers minus me:) play the UN teams in frisbee and volleyball. The troops that live next to us are from Bangladesh.

President Johnson-Sirleaf was educated in the U.S. at the University of Colorado and Harvard. She was imprisoned for a time during the war and spent time in the Monrovia prison. We have a ministry that goes to the prison every week to minister to inmates and two weeks ago, the President happened to be there at the same time. I wasn't there but many of our Mercy Shippers got the chance to meet her and saw the cell where she was imprisoned.

The judicial system here is slowly being rebuilt. However, in the meantime, many of the prisoners have been in the prison for months or years and have never been charged or had a trial. Many of them are in prison for debts - if a family member would come and pay their debt, they would be freed. Every week our team returns home with a list of phone numbers of relatives to call to see if they can come and free their relatives. My roommate Dorothy has made some of those calls and finds that the relatives didn't know they were in prison. Unfortunately, most of them do not have money to pay to get them out of prison.

The city of Monrovia used to be a tourist place prior to the war. When you ask Liberians about their country prior to the war, you will hear that it was a beautiful city. They have many beaches since it is located on the Atlantic Ocean and they even had a five-star hotel called the Ducor Palace. Monrovia had paved streets, electricity, sewers/plumbing, hospitals, banks, a university - it was a thriving metropolis that was the place to see in West Africa.

Today, there isn't a single stoplight in Monrovia, there is very little electricity, the roads are horrible, there is no sewage system or trash pickup, the hospitals have almost nothing to offer, unemployment is 85%; it is a burned out, bullet-ridden city trying to make its way back.

My roommate Megan visited the Ducor Palace which sits burned-out on the top of a hill overlooking all of Monrovia and took some wonderful photos of Monrovia which I am posting here.

A few updates

Peace Ward

I spent four nights this last week working in Peace Ward. Peace Ward is really not very peaceful! Since I got here, I have been only working in Faith Ward or Hope Ward where we have the ladies who have had VVF surgeries and the occasional eye patient.

But for some reason, they put me in Peace Ward - I'm ready to go back to Faith/Hope. Peace Ward holds patients who have had orthopedic surgeries (club feet repairs, bone fracture repairs, burn releases) and they are all in casts. It is also a mixture of kids and adults and that is why it's not peaceful.

Kids and pain and our white faces make for a lot of screaming and crying. Kids also means there are a lot of extra people around since they all have a caregiver (mom, dad, aunt, etc.) that stay with them at all times. (A funny side note: the caregivers sleep on mattresses under the beds of their kids...not something you see much of in the States). And then you mix those kids with adults who have also had surgery all in one big room and you have chaos. Not to mention, Pippolo, the clown comes down every evening to entertain the kids by making balloon animals.

Fortunately my patients were all adults except for Esther, a 16 year old. I've been caring for Ella who is 84 years old - that is a miracle in this country. She is well-off and has traveled all over the world. Her children and grandchildren live in the U.S. She had her hip repaired and has been here about 12 days and she has had enough. Her bed is right next to Roosevelt - the 7 year old who is in a cast from his waist to his knees and apparently she doesn't like his manners.

One night, she was complaining to me about him and just kept saying 'That boy is too frisky.' I had a good internal laugh about her terminology. But an hour later, she was offering him a piece of her apple.

Then there is 16 year old Esther. When she was three, the rebels put her arm in a fire. She came here because her arm had contracted and needed to have the scar tissue released (it's called a burn contracture release). She has her arm in a cast and wires sticking out from the tips of her fingers. I can barely stand to look at it. She endures painful dressing changes every three days. Unbelievably, she is always smiling...and she's pretty pampered by the nurses...the word 'princess' comes to mind (notice the tiara:).

Here's a picture of Esther (on the right) with my roommate Megan. She taught Megan how to carry things on top of her head like a real African woman. It took several nights of practice but Megan's pretty good at it now.

And speaking of a princess, the names of the kids on the ward make me smile. Here are the names of some of the kids currently in the hospital: Princess, Remember, Roosevelt, Baby, Angel, Mustapha (isn't that from The Lion King?) The adults' names seem to be names we are used to or African names but there seems to be some odd naming trend going on with the younger generation.

Waterside Market

On a totally unrelated topic, I went with three friends to Waterside market yesterday. We went in a cab with 7 people in it that was built for five - and amazingly, the cabbie didn't rip us off when we paid the fare. Waterside market is several long streets filled with hundreds and hundreds of people walking around, seemingly doing nothing. There are street vendors selling anything you can imagine, some with their product in wheelbarrows (like chicken) and some on their heads. Others just sit on the sidewalk with their stuff all laid out neatly on blankets. For some reason, there are lots of vendors selling dishes.

Then there are vendors that have a little booth and some even have actual stores you go into (these all seem to be owned by Lebanese people rather than Africans - at least the ones we went in). We spent an hour or so 'shopping' which isn't really the same kind we do in the States.

When we walk down the streets, we stand out and everyone is always watching us. And not only do they watch us, they constantly yell things at us (more specifically, only men do this). This is what we hear as we are walking: hey, whi woma marra me (meaning hey, white woman marry me); musy ship (meaning mercy ships); be ma fren (be my friend); or just plain hey, hey! And they make lots of sucking noises at us which is horribly offensive. Anyways, it's why I don't go shopping often!

I wish I had a picture to show you but it's a little dangerous to take out a camera in a crowd. The amount I paid for my camera is a year's wages for a Liberian and so we try not to do anything else that draws attention to us.

We caught a taxi back home and met a wonderful cabbie named Musu. He was married with three children and a granddaughter. Wow, he was passionate about Liberia and America (as they call the U.S.) and the younger Liberian generation and how they wanted handouts and didn't want to work and what the last three wars have been like. Prior to the war, he had a good job in a bank. Now he drives a taxi seven days a week but he owns the taxi and all he makes is his. We got a flat tire on the way back which will cost him $21.00 US to fix which is a few days wages for him.

I find that getting out and experiencing the Liberian culture in a mass of people is tiring and bizarre. But when I meet individual Liberians (like Musu) and have a chance to talk to them and learn more about their lives, it is an amazing experience and it makes me glad I am here. After a few hours out in Monrovia, it also makes me thankful for the air conditioning and my little cubbie home on the ship.

Tribute to Collin

It has been just under a month since our crew member, Collin, died here. It still makes me sad as I pass the door to his cabin which was right next to mine. On the Mercy Ships website, http://www.mercyships.org/, there is a video tribute to Collin on the first page. It was played during his memorial service here on the ship. It is his family's wish that Collin's work here not be forgotten and I ask that you view the video and let his message penetrate your heart. Continue to pray for his parents, sisters and other family as we continue to do here.

Peace,
Michele

Community life

I've been living on the ship now for two months and have pretty much adapted to living in community. I never lived in the dorms in college so this is a unique experience for me. One thing I've learned is that you have to be flexible and give people a lot of grace - it helps to be laid back like I am. This is not a place for people who need to be in control and have everything their way because it is the opposite here - you have almost no control over anything and you can't insist on your way since you have between 5-9 other people living in your cabin (yes, we have ten-berth cabins).

I've been so lucky to have the roommates I have. Our ages are 24, 26, 32, 33, 42 and 57 and we come from 5 different countries (5 nurses and 1 doctor). The opportunity for conflict and misunderstandings is huge but we all actually get along really well and everyone is considerate. I know many other cabins where people just can't seem to make it work...so much for the Christianly attitude of grace.

The hardest part about living in community is that you are never alone, not even when you are in your bed sleeping because you have a bunkmate sleeping as well. You eat meals together, you do laundry together, you watch tv or movies together, you check your email together, you worship together, you work together. You can't go anywhere off the ship without at least one other person and preferably in a group. You are sick together (we've had lots of this lately - it just gets passed from person to person).

And it doesn't matter what time of the day because this is a hospital and a ship that operates 24 hours a day. I did laundry at 3:30 a.m. the other night and there was someone else in there doing laundry at the same time! I tried to go into the International Lounge (where we have all our community meetings and church) at 1:00 a.m. a few days ago to pray and there was a group of musicians in there practicing.

For the most part, I like the community living but as I've been thinking about whether I can do this long-term (two years or longer), I'm not so sure. Long-termers have better cabins - some have single-berth cabins but many are in four-berth cabins. I've heard the family cabins are great, just like apartments with multiple rooms and a kitchen...maybe I can get a family to adopt me while I'm on the ship:)

Some great things about community living: always someone to talk to or play games with or pray with or eat with...someone else prepares all your meals and cleans up after you...there is always a birthday to celebrate (meaning chocolate cake)...I have many, many friends from all over the world...no one cares about what you do for a living or how big your house is or how much stuff you have because you don't have anything here - just your small little cubbie. Most people are just here to serve God.

We have youth pastors who work in the kitchen, retired couples who work in housekeeping, doctors who are on call 24 hours a day and don't care if you call them in the middle of the night, nurses who spend their off-hours down on the ward just hanging out with the patients even though they just spent the day working on the ward, mothers who bring their young children down to the ward to play with the kids who have had surgery, teenagers who live on the ship that hang out with teenage patients after school, nursing supervisors who stop by the ward at midnight just to make sure we're doing ok.

I'm not saying everyone is perfect and we're living in paradise! We're living in a country that is so poor that it doesn't even rank on the list that ranks how poor countries are. And we take care of people everyday who have tragic stories to tell and many, many people who come looking for help and we can't help them. And we're living in community with 400+ other people and we are working a lot of hours and shifts and people get cranky.

So, for now, I'm fine with community living...it's just a different way to live. We'll see what my attitude is 10 months from now!

One last note: I'm coming home for Christmas, thanks to frequent flyer miles! I'll be in Des Moines from Dec. 14 - Jan. 5th. See you then.

I'm going to leave you with some photos of community living:

Ans and Melanie just hanging out.

Music night. Every two weeks or so, we have some kind of musical event in one of the lounge areas. Last week, we had a gospel singer, Tina Greene, visiting the ship so she sang for us. One week there was a talent (or lack-of talent) show. This photo is a night where some of our crew put on a concert. At times, someone will just sit down at the piano to play and others will come up and start singing and, the next thing you know, there is an impromptu worship service going on.

Jo and Jo out on the town. Jo (on the left) went home to England today. Jo (on the right) is my roommate and my friend - she will be going home to Wales in two weeks.

Celebrating a birthday in the dining hall.

Out on the town - Melissa, Rachel, Jo and Megan. Melissa and Rachel are nurses here for two years. Megan is a nurse here for one year.

Dessert after the Thursday night worship service. Every Thursday evening, groups of crew members make a special dessert for the rest of the crew and we basically hang out and socialize after church.

Peace,

Michele