Weekend Adventure

This weekend I was given the opportunity to go to the local Congo History Museum. It was located about 60 minutes from the port in the old king's "palace". It was not a palace by any sort of western measurement. There were four rooms in total in the main building, each about the size of my bedroom at home and four outbuildings divided into two rooms each, which had once housed the kitchen, the chauffer, and the king's six wives. The museum guide was very enthusiastic and was eager to tell us all about the Congolese history.
It was sad to see the state of many of the artifacts there. I thought of the pristine, environment controlled cases that I am so used to seeing in the western world to preserve articles that are considered to be of historic importance. Compared to that, the dusty, fading, slightly decaying state of many of the artifacts in the museum made me wish that the people of Congo had a way to preserve and protect the artifacts that are of importance to them.

The Museum and old king's "palace"

On our way back to the ship we went to visit the local Catholic seminary and visited the site of the first chapel to be erected in Central Africa and saw where the first bishop had been buried. From there we walked through the local village to the ocean to relax for a while before returning to the ship.

Relaxing at the beach

As we were driving back, our translator directed us down a street that was supposed to be a "shortcut" back to the port. The road was nothing but sand and it was like driving on the beach. Eventually the road became so soft and bumpy that we worried that we were going to get stuck - which is exactly what happened. Our wheels started spinning and suddenly we weren't going anywhere. Despite being in a land rover with four wheel drive, we were well and truly stuck. After trying for a while to dig ourselves out and sticking branches and sticks under the wheels in an attempt to give the wheels some traction, we conceded defeat. We left one translator and crew member with the vehicle and the rest of us hiked back to the main road where we could catch a taxi back to the port. Then we sent our second translator back with another Mercy Ships vehicle, armed with a winch to rescue those we had left behind. Quite the unexpectedly adventurous Sunday! 

Trying to push our way to freedom - no such luck

 

Well and truly stuck in the sand

The Joys of Being Here

It is hard to believe that we have been doing surgeries here in Africa for two months already! I love being on the ward, it is such a happy place to be, full of smiles and laughter. There are children everywhere, playing games, running, being cuddled. In between my regular nursing duties, i.e., distributing medication, checking vital signs, emptying drains, and changing dressings,  I love to spend time with the patients playing games, weaving friendship bracelets, practicing my French and Kituba, and cuddling. Cuddling is definitely near the top of my list of the joys of being here.

 

 

Maxillofacial surgeries continue to happen at a steady rate, and I love getting to see my little children come in for their cleft lip surgeries. It is typically a simple surgery, but it makes such an immediate difference in these children's lives. I had a 9 year-old girl who was scheduled for a cleft lip surgery this week. She was so very quiet and serious and despite all my efforts, I could not coax a smile out of her. I thought she might be a little frightened, so I pulled up the pictures of young Vernel on the computer (see sidebar) and showed her his before and after photos and what his bandages looked like after he had surgery so that she knew what to expect. I have no idea what she has gone through in her nine years of living with a cleft lip, but she was so withdrawn and desperate for love. She hardly spoke, but she wanted to be held constantly. If I put her down so that I could attend to my other duties, she would follow me around and wait for me to finish my work so that I could pick her up again. Nine years old is a little old to want to be held and carried like that, but she seemed to need the extra love and attention. After surgery her new lip was still swollen, and she was still quiet, and wanted to be held and cuddled. While I was on night shift I held her in my arms until she was ready to sleep. I never did get to see her new smile, she went home only two days after her surgery. She comes back next week to have her stitches removed, and I hope to see a transformed little girl.

My Serious, Snuggly Child

Plastic surgery has finished for now, and orthopedic surgeries have begun. So many lives have already been changed for the better. Of all the surgeries that we do here, the plastics patients require some of the longest healing times. Most of these patients have burn contractures which have been repaired with skin grafts. Practically speaking this means that the surgeon takes healthy skin from another place on their body (usually the thigh) and uses it to repair the open places left when the scar tissue is cut away. Many of these patients will stay in the hospital for one to two months. We develop close relationships with these patients and their families. Even though we have finished the plastics surgeries, there are still ten or so plastics patients left on the ward waiting for their grafts to heal.

 

It has been so exciting to see the first few orthopedic patients come in. Beautiful children with cheerful smiles, excited laughter, and crooked legs, eager to shake your hand as they walk past you in the halls. Some of them will not need surgery, their legs will be put in a series of casts to straighten them. Others will need surgery to correct the more severe bone deformities. The first few are already walking down the hall, with their legs casted, learning how to walk with straight legs.  

Ortho patients on the dock

The greatest joy of being here? Simply watching my patients from admission to discharge. Seeing the changes in them as they are showered with love and unconditional acceptance. True, we have helped to heal them of whatever physical ailment they had, but the greatest thing that I get to do here is to make sure that each and every one of them know that no matter what they look like, they are not cursed. To let them know that they are human, they are intelligent, they are special, they are worthy of love, and they are loved by us and by God.

Hello from A Ward!!!

The taste of Caterpillar?

Today I had the opportunity to try some different Congolese foods: Mashed cassava (manioc) which is a bit like mashed potatoes, but is compacted until it is firm and can be sliced like bread; Cooked cassava leaves (saka saka), which I think tastes like eating steamed grass; fish, cooked plantains, fresh bread. Personally, I must admit that I do not particularly like the cassava, though I will eat it if it is offered to me, so as not to be rude. The fish, plantains, and bread I have had before, and I will definitely eat again. But the big news? I ate a caterpillar! It was very well cooked, and extremely crunchy. Honestly I have to say that to me it tasted like something that had been smoked almost to the point of charcoal, but perhaps that is a good thing. I am not sure that I would have been able to eat the entire thing if it had been chewy or juicy. I guess I can check "Eat a caterpillar" off of my bucket list now.


The Caterpillar

Praying for Hope

I have loved the time I have spent at Mvou Mvou Baby Creche. I have been able to go at least once a week.
The children there are so starved for love and attention. They cling to you when you pick them up, as though they are afraid you might leave them and never come back. The women working there are very good at keeping the children clean, fed, and clothed, but they don't have much time for snuggling and cuddling. Love is such an important part of raising a child, but in orphanages so often the children just don't seem to get the love that they so desperately need.
That is why volunteers from the ship are given the opportunity to go to local orphanages here in Congo. To give all the love and attention we can to these love-starved children.
Seeing little Malachi brings joy to my heart. He recognizes me now when I come. He rolls over in his crib when I come into the room and waits for me to pick him up. Though we have been working with the orphanage for several weeks now, Malachi is not gaining weight, in fact, he has lost weight. He is still as thin and fragile as the first day I met him. I have begun to fear that perhaps, for this sweet little one, life here on this earth will not be long. I try to prepare myself for the worst.
Still, with all the love and attention he has received in the last month, Malachi has improved in one way. He interacts more. The first time he reached out to grab for a toy that I held in front of him, I could have cried for joy. He only has the strength to hold the smallest and lightest of toys, but his eyes look everywhere, so alert. I hope and pray for the best, for the hope that he will begin to gain weight through the efforts of the orphanage staff and the nurses working with them from the ship. That he will grow to be a healthy and robust little boy. That perhaps he might one day be adopted. I want this story to have a happy ending.

Holding His Favorite Toy!

Such Beautiful Eyes