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



Drilling Beneath My Feet

Ratatataratatatratatat. This is the amazingly loud noise coming from beneath my feet. They are cleaning the ballast tanks on Deck 2, one deck below me. The particular tank that they are cleaning right now happens to be right below my room.
Cleaning the tanks involves the use of needle guns. They hammer away at the rust in the tanks, making one very loud racket that causes my floor to tremble as the metal in the tanks vibrates. I try to stay out of the room as much as possible during the day, while the drilling is taking place.
Heaven help the poor night shift workers that are in the rooms near mine. Most of them seek out friends who are in other areas of the ship, who will let them sleep in their rooms during the day. Sleeping through the sound of the needle guns is impossible for all but the soundest of sleepers. I hope that they finish working before I am scheduled to work night shifts, or I too will be seeking other accommodations.

Engineers hard at work needle gunning in the ballast tanks

A Day on the Kouilou River

On Saturday I was blessed with the unexpected opportunity to go on trip up the Kouilou River. That morning we left the ship with sunscreen and bugspray, packed lunches, and plenty of water. After negotiating with a driver to take us out to the river and wait for us for the very reasonable cost of 16,000CFA (approximately $32), the seven of us piled into a six person taxi. The forty-five minute ride was cozy with all of us crammed together, but I enjoyed it.

We arrived in a small village market beneath the bridge that crossed over the river. We had been there only minutes before our guide Boris found us. Seven white girls in a Congolese village do stand out just a bit, in case you didn't know. Boris led us through the village to where several dugout canoes lined the riverbank. Boris left briefly to get more gasoline for his outboard motor, and then we all loaded into the canoe.

Ready for a day on the Kouilou River

The trip was beautiful from the very start. The day started out slightly overcast, but as we went on it became a beautiful sunny day. The jungle reached all the way to the riverbank, the trees leaning out over the river, branches dipping into the water. From within the trees I could hear the sound of insects, a constant creeee creeee that was so loud that I thought there must have been thousands of them.  

We motored up the river for a couple of hours, calling out "Mbote" and "Bonjour" to all the villages that we passed. As we passed one village, we were invited to stop. We did so, and the women and children were so excited to welcome us into their village. They walked us through their village and showed us trees with cocoa pods in them. They cut a pod down for us and encouraged us to taste. The cocoa beans within the pod were covered in a soft, white flesh, and the women showed us how to suck on the beans until all of the flesh, which was mildly sweet, was gone and then spit out the bean. Then they took us further and showed us where they were clearing the jungle to make room to plant more sugar cane. Then they showed us where they were growing sugar cane. They had already harvested some and demonstrated how to remove the hard outer skin and chew on the sweet inner pulp until all of the juice was gone.

Sweet village boys

Yes, that is a knife he is holding

Village children waving Hello

They were so generous, and even gave us five sugar cane stalks to take with us. I felt so blessed by their hospitality. They sent us away, waving and calling their goodbyes. We continued up the river and around the island used as a chimpanzee refuge, then back down the river to where we had started. Our faithful taxi driver was there waiting for us, and after paying Boris and giving him two of the sugar cane stalks as a gift, we drove back to Pointe-Noire. It was such a wonderful afternoon and I hope to repeat the trip again in the future.

The Joy and the Sorrow: Lessons in Love

The Entire Nursing Staff at the Beginning of the Congo Field Service

The first few weeks of surgery. It was amazing to me to see the hospital suddenly burst into life. We went from quiet empty hallways and empty beds, to hallways teaming with life and activity and beds full of patients in just a matter of days. It was wonderful to see those first patients, to see the joy that they held. It made me smile to see them come, nervous but excited.

Though the first weeks were filled with amazing surgeries and promises of hope, there were also many patients to whom we had to give bad news. Patients whose tumors were revealed to be inoperable when they came in for their scans. Patients whose tumors turned out to be cancerous. Patients to whom we had to say, "I am sorry, but there is nothing that we can do." Of course, we would never simply turn these patients away. Those who are dying are placed in our palliative care program, and we will continue to care for them.

Two patients from my first week stand out in my mind more than any others. The first is Emmanoel, the little boy who was rushed through the line at screening day, with a tumor in his mouth and throat, cutting of his airway. Every breath was made with effort, his chest was concaved and deformed from the effort it took to simply get enough air to survive. He received his surgery in the first week. His tumor was removed successfully and after only one day on a ventilator he was breathing on his own. His parents were so thankful and excited to see how well he was doing, and asked if he would now be able to learn how to speak, something that he had never done before. The joy on their faces when they learned that he should learn how to speak normally now that he could breathe was wonderful to behold. He was sent home last week, a much happier and healthier little boy.



Emmanoel Serious and Struggling to Breathe at Screening Day

Emmanoel Happy and Healthy after Surgery

The second child was a little girl, the same age as Emmanoel, and with the exact same problem. A tumor was filling her mouth and throat, cutting off her airway, so that she could barely breathe. She was also admitted to the hospital in the first days after the hospital opened. Her story however, did not end happily. Her tumor was found to be cancerous and inoperable. In the few days since screening day, her tumor had grown measurably. There was nothing that we could do. Her mother wept when we told her. We kept her in the hospital for a few days. I was not on the ward the day she went home to heaven, but I heard of it later and wept. She had passed away in the arms of one of our nurses. She had taken one final breath, and then the tumor closed off her airway, and she breathed no more. The entire hospital mourned her loss that day.

It was a vivid reminder to me that we are not here only for the people that we can help, the people we can heal, the people that we can "fix". We are here for each and every person that we will interact with: our patients, their families, and every other person that we will interact with here in Congo. We are here to share the love of Jesus in whatever way we can, by caring for each and every patient with kindness, by comforting the grieving, and rejoicing with those who are healed, by giving a smile and a gentle touch. This is why we are here, not just to provide surgeries, not just to bring physical healing, but to heal with love, to heal the wounds that cannot be seen. .