a funny family christmas

the best part about christmas, for me, is the inevitable family reunion. my extended family on my mother's side is all pretty close, although we only really get to see everyone once a year at the holiday get-together. everyone travels in from all over texas, and we hole away with a number of good bottles of wine and enough food to feed a small country.

as i have gotten older, i have started to notice and appreciate the idisyncracies that make my family so incredibly unique.

uncle peter: a towering blonde image of a dutchman, my uncle peter is the oldest of the five kids, and perhaps the most colorful character in the bunch. a photographer who lives in austin with my aunt ann and my cousins cole and willa, uncle peter rambles through the world with unpretentious abandon, be that walking around the house in yard in his t-shirt and boxers or taking a dip in the backyard pool in the balmy 50 degree weather that graced houston two days ago. with a distinct laugh and an enormous smile, uncle peter can always be called upon to liven up the conversation, and it was unsurprising to look over later in the evening and see him surrounded by all the guy cousins, doubled over with laughter and uncle peter gesticulating wildly to emphasize his imaginative story.

aunt irene: the first thing i always notice about my aunt irene is the white perfection of her beautifully straight teeth. her smile is enormous as well, and in it you can see each and every tooth. a dental hygienist who also lives in austin with my uncle clark - and mom to my cousins kimberly, wes, and brittney - aunt irene is a veritable fashion plate. although she is the second oldest of the five kids, she has always amazed me by the youth and vibrancy of her wardrobe. the best part, though, is that her heart and her hugs are as huge as her smile, and no matter how long it has been, i can always count on her fierce loyalty and love.

uncle frank: francis maria staats is the middle child in my mom's family, and it shows. the picture of diplomacy and grace, uncle frank lives in houston, and he and his wife sharon hosted the first night of our staats family reunion. the ever-gracious host, uncle frank is imperturbable (spelling?), and it's a characteristic of his that never ceases to amaze me amid the hubub of frenetic activity that is omnipresent whenever we all get together - we are nearly 36 people, after all. he laughs and jokes with us older nieces and nephews, and he's always interested in whatever is going on in our lives, but he is at his best with the youngest ones - just the sweetest of dad's and the most devoted of uncles.

aunt monique: powerhouse. that's basically my aunt monique in a word. tall, thin, and beautiful in her strength and vitality, aunt monique is the most energetic woman i know as well as loyal and dependable to the extreme. she's a physical therapist, and her and my uncle steve have recently started fostering special needs kids - in august, they adopted angelina and jeremiah joseph, the two newest members of our ever-growing family. to watch both aunt monique and uncle steve with the kids is inspiring, simply put. but nieke-nieke (as we all affectionately call her) is particularly amazing. every moment with her kiddos is a pt session - because both nina and j.j. need a lot of extra love.

i feel as if i've only just scratched the surface, but the reality is that every person in my family is a blessing to me, and i felt as though i needed to appreciate them in that, even if only in this small way.

this christmas has been different. as someone who usually begins getting excited for christmas in august, i found myself struggling come mid-december to really focus on the fact that christmas was fast approaching. i thought that finishing finals and coming home would help to jump-start that holiday spirit, and in some ways it has, but in many ways, it's still off. well, maybe "off" is a strong word; it's just been...different.

we're not at home this year, opting to spend the holidays with my oma down here in houston so that she won't be alone, as my opa died only a few days before christmas two years ago. and i'm continuing to discover how much my time in sierra leone has changed me and grown me. gifts have also been different, as we have chosen as a family to focus on actual needs instead of pouring money out on other things that are maybe less than necessary. these aspects, perhaps combined with others that i haven't yet realized, make for an altogether funny feeling - an alteration on the normal carefree christmas spirit that has characterized past holidays.

but at the root of it all, i am - more than anything else - deeply and truly thankful for those blessings which i can count that aren't wrappable or under a tree: the love of my family, food and laughter and warmth and free time, peace and goodwill for mankind, the grace of this advent season, and the overwhelming joy of christmas.

it's going to be a lovely christmas after all...

flying and falling

from a few days ago:

how do i describe this feeling? i have thrown myself into the great unknown, far and deep and wide, and i have fallen. my bruised and broken heart mourns the loss not that which necessarily was but that which could have been. question after question float lazily yet persistently through my head. they plague me, even now, and i find solace in the words of others shrouded in their plaintive voices – others have been here before. because the truth is, from time to time, we all are called upon to jump, and we do – no matter the bleakest of consequences – because it is so exhilarating to fly, if even for only a moment.

the birth, life, and death of a relationship is a key point of interest. unmarked by most, except the people most intimately involved, it happens all the time – so inherently common to our human condition, and yet always taking us by surprise. so funny.

there’s no real point to this today. my head’s too fuzzy to try to make sense, and for now i kind of like just being in this moment, in this feeling. in all that it is, it is new, and that in and of itself makes it noteworthy. it’s another thread in this rich fabric of life; it’s the bitter end of a vibrant and intoxicating drink, one of which we are invited to take in to the fullest.

the name of this blog is called drinking the cup – it’s a concept i ran across in henri nouwen’s book, can you drink the cup? which is, i can truly say, a book that changed my life. the perspective on life and living which nouwen outlines in that short, simple reflection is one which i have striven to adopt in all things, and today is no different.

the overwhelming truth is that i am loved, deeply and wholly and fully and purely, by the God that not only crafted my very self but continually holds me into being with his love every moment of every day. i feel the pulsing beat of that love within me now, and it brings me to tears, ones that heal and plant seeds of joy. my battered heart beats in time within me also, and will continue to do so. i don’t doubt that at all. and with time i suppose this will become another chapter in my life, and i’m okay with that...

three days ‘til christmas...

continuation on a theme:

in continuation with what i wrote yesterday, i stumbled across this which i wrote just a few weekends ago:

the leaves have all fallen off of the tree in front of my dorm. well, almost. closer inspection reveals a handful of the bright-yellow ones still clinging to the branches, despite the wind and cold. i can't blame them - this year hasn't been very fair. it was certainly warm enough for long enough to make anyone believe that winter may just not come this year.

but the weather has snapped cold, and i have virtually moved from skirts to sweaters.

the leaf flutters again. all his brothers and sisters lie scattered on the ground - yellow spots on the newly laid black asphalt. one more gust of wind...he's given up. winter's come.

winter means holidays. thanksgiving is coming soon. frost on the ground - warm, rich, moist kitchen air draws everyone there. laughter bubbles up and bounces around the rafters: little globes of colored glass clashing with the dark wooden beams and tinkling into a myriad of pieces.

tradition. family. community. these are the things which i am thankful for. the things which ground my heart when the november breezes blow. it's the hand that you grasp in the wind and rain. as cold as yours but warmer now for the touch.

it's the steady, pulsing rhythm which lays the bass line for the music of life - now allegro, now andante, now legato, but always there. it's the feeling of a mug held in your hands, the warmth bleeding into your fingers like a watercolor left out in the rain.

it's the faces whose lines and contours you know so well, yet whose constant animation keeps you entrhalled - plugged into every moment. it's a celebration of life, and it's beautiful. after all, life is beautiful, why shouldn't its party be as well?

life is beautiful in the wonder of experiencing a new thing. it is beautiful in the icy fingers of wind which work their way past your scarf and tickle the back of your neck. it's beautiful in the way light enters the world every morning and makes everything new. it's beautiful in the heart-wrenching sounds of music - a voice carried so high it breaks - a note held so perfectly long and perfectly pure it makes you cry.

life is beautiful in its sorrows, too. beautiful in its raw humanity - beautiful in the way that it touches your heart - beautiful in the way we are all connected.

sometimes do you feel so alive that you could die?

it's christmastime in the city...

if anyone ever asked me what i love so much about the holidays, i would have to think about it for a little bit. you see, there are so many things that i love about thanksgiving, christmas, and new year's. one, the fact that they come all together and that it's a holiday season. it gives you plenty of time to get all excited and really into it.

other things i love:

* the smells: absolutely nothing beats the smells of the holidays/beginning of winter. the cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice mixed with the fallen leaves, woodsmoke, and the iciness of the air that is almost a smell in and of itself.

* the feeling of having your middle all warm from the inside and out as you sit in a fuzzy hoody and drink a cup of tea while your toes, fingertips, nose, and ears stay a bit chilled.

* how everything has this strange mix of slowing down and speeding up. nature slows down as the trees fall asleep and the ground hardens up while people linger in coffee shops and in their friends' homes. but then again everything speeds up as squirrels and birds make their last dash for winter stores and those same people rush from one warm spot to another or engage in the holiday hustle and bustle of getting everything done and everyone seen.

* how happy everyone is. in new england, you pass people all the time, walking from one place to the next, and yet it's rare to ever make eye contact with one of these people much less exchange words. but in the holiday season, starting now - sometime the week or two before thanksgiving, something changes. today three people said hello to me as i walked to and from my dorm. a christmas miracle :)

* how you can take a moment to just sit back and appreciate life. and i mean life in its fullest. the good, the not-so-good. the people that make your life worth living. the ones that challenge you and encourage you and who throw their point of view into the mix every day, giving you new eyes through which to see the world. it's absolutely amazing.

there are so many other things - the smiles on peoples' faces, the wonder in the eyes of every little child i come across, the traditions, the music, the food, the laughter, the fun, the first snow (hopefully!), the family, the community, the one time where everyone will wish for peace on earth and really, really mean it...

while i don't ascribe to the fact that we haven't even had thanksgiving and most stores already have their christmas trees up are are playing the usualy medley of non-descript carols and christmas-y songs, i do love the holidays. because, you see, christmas and thanksgiving and all that come with it are so much more than santa claus and rudolph and presents and jack frost. it's about people and taking time out of the year to celebrate the fact that we are all people who need people, to thank them for who they are, and to welcome again the savior whose wonderful and amazing life made us all realize how beautiful life can really be within the mysterious majesty of god's infinite and indescribable love.

so to everyone out there, happy, happy thanksgiving and christmas. peace on earth...

happy to be human

sometimes you just have days where you feel so happy to be a human being. today was one of those days.

lisbee, lauren, brittany, bridget, and i went into boston today - to hit up all of the fall festivities which all hit on the same weekend in october: specifically the head of the charles regatta and the life is good pumpking festival.

there's just something about milling about in swarms of people that can sometimes strike you as oddly comforting. particularly when you have little moments of connection. i had a lot of those today.

* the guy handing out free samples of starbuck's coffee at the head of the charles, who was probably having the best day ever as the most popular person for that particular day...

* the fitting room attendant who could only laugh as we attempted to dress each other in the most hideous formal dresses we could find in the macy's formal section (you would be surprised how many there were!)...

* the mom at the pumpkin festival who could only join us in chuckling over the antics of her three year old daughter who preferred much more to walk over the rows of pumpkins forming the pumpkin maze rather than walking in the corridors and pathways they formed...

* the grad student from boston university squeezed next to me on the train home who happened to be from texas (as noted by her james avery ring)...

and then there were the moments where you just meet eyes with someone, and it's such a beautiful moment. how often do we really look someone in the eye? even in conversation with our closest friends, it's still fairly rare to make and hold eye contact for very long. and yet when you do - when it's an adorable old woman swaying with the motion of the train, firmly grasping the bar with one hand and the edge of her oversized cream-colored cardigan with the other, who meets your eyes and responds to your smile in kind, smiling so much her eyes disappear underneath a field of wrinkles - your heart can't help but sing at the common-ness of our humanity. of the wonder of the god who loves us all into being every moment of every day and connects us in such a deep and profound way.

i'm home now, but my heart still burns with life, a life so much better shared with those around me - the ones upon whom i rely so strongly and the ones that the world would label stranger but who so much more deserves to be brother or sister...

kayak on campus

so i was waiting outside my 3 pm class this afternoon - flipping through the pages that i hadn't read, hoping (as one generally does) that somehow i would be able to glean the contents of those leaves with a simple glance and that i wouldn't make a fool of myself in class discussion.

now i have to take a step back. there's a class that meets in the same room, right before my class which always runs right up to 3 o'clock, and i have never known what class it is. sometimes you walk into a classroom and you see notes scribbled all over the board and you can sort of figure out what you're dealing with, but this professor apparently never writes anything down, making my curiosity unmistakably peaked.

so, back to the hallway...

suddenly, the door opened and out poked the tip of a paddle, followed shortly thereafter by a student - a guy my age or a little older. he set the paddle against the wall, re-entered the classroom and closed the door behind him. absolutely perplexed and obviously intrigued, i cautiously returned to the flipping pages, keeping one eye overtly on the classroom door.

a few minutes later it opened again. this time the first thing that greeted my view was a blue plastic conical object which, a split second later, i realized was the nose to a bright blue kayak. the same guy carried out this kayak, placed it in the middle of the hall, and began to matter-of-factly stow the paddle in its special compartment. after getting over my sheer surprise, i saw that this guy was actually wearing swimming trunks instead of shorts, and these crazy water shoes instead of sandals - they looked like a cross between barney the dinosaur's feet and the toe socks i used to get for christmas and treasured beyond anything else.

so completely tickled, i had to ask the guy what on earth was going on. public speaking, he replied. he had just given a speech for his class on kayaking, and the kayak was his visual aid. with that, he hoisted the kayak to his shoulder and set off down the hall.

it was all so matter-of-fact. of course there's a kayak wandering around my campus, isn't there one on yours?

13 hours

some days are just long. today was one of those days. i left my room at a quarter to nine this morning, and i'm just getting back at a quarter to ten tonight. thirteen hours. lovely.

actually, to be perfectly honest - i don't mind the long days. sometimes i prefer them. i feel as though i have accomplished something, i don't get sucked into watching mindless television, and i really enjoy coming back to the room and my roommates - like coming home after a long day of work.

so what filled my day? all beautiful things, really. i had my maternal/child health nursing theory class from 9-12, which is has continued to be the highlight of my week this semester. then i had a break for lunch (tuna sandwich - wonderful). then i met up with one of my bosses - the project coordinator for a research initiative that i help out with. it's focused on maternal/infant bonding and communication in mothers with post-partum depression. absolutely incredible project to be on. the work can for sure get tedious (who really adores data entry?), but just knowing what i'm working on/toward is so incredibly exciting, and the people are so great.

then i was off to my theology class: ethics in international relations. so interesting - definitely over my head a good 85% of the time, but really engaging and pushing me toward greater awareness and real critical thinking. not just the analytical thinking of high school or some of my underclassman classes, but real critical thinking which demands that i personally engage in the material being discussed. today we talked about inter-religious dialogue and its role in international communication. like i said: so interesting. that class lasted until five, and then i headed off to babysit.

after quite the rigamarole to find a babysitting job (including going out for an interview which i never made because i got on the right bus only to find that it was taking the wrong route and ending up in the middle of nowhere) - i stumbled across a family right near campus with three adorable boys, an equally adorable mother, and beautiful, healthy, organized home. tonight was my first night, and i got acquainted with the boys and their habits while they ate dinner, did some homework (the oldest is in second grade), read story books, and went to bed. they are 7, 5, and 18 months - and i realized over the course of the evening how much of a blessing it is to get off campus and into a home, especially a home with kids. i loved every minute of it.

so now i am back in my room and have in one sense very little to show for my day except for sheer exhaustion, but in another sense i was blessed with many beautiful moments - where i was encouraged again and again that my heart's beat lies in maternal/infant care, where i was challenged academically and personally to look again at how i view the world, where i was able to catch up with a superior that is quickly becoming a friend, where i held a baby in my arms as he drifted off to sleep...

i can't think of a better way to spend 13 hours of any given day.

the scale of suffering

for about a week now, i have been meaning to post on my blog - talk about the first week of classes, my roommates, the transition, etc. but i'm glad, in a sense, that i'm such a procrastinator because thursday was my first day of clinical rotation for the semester, and it was such an amazing experience.

on thursdays i am at a hospital here in boston on a medical intermediate care unit - we generally have strictly medical patients who present with end-stage heart disease, post-stroke, renal failure, or end-stage liver disease, waiting for a transplant. they are very, very sick people often on upwards of twenty-five different medications for all of the complications and complexities of their diseases.

my patient on thursday was one such patient. she is fifty-five years old and dying from lung cancer. she's been fighting the cancer for a few years now, but then a few weeks ago, everything was complicated by a massive stroke which left the left side of her body paralyzed. when i saw her, she was continuing to have many issues including a decreasing mental stability. she was seeing people in the corners of the room or standing above her chair - people who she hated or people that had hurt her or random strangers. it was relatively overwhelming, to be sure - especially because i haven't taken the psych nursing class (that's next fall), but i was definitely blessed to have the help of another girl in my clinical group.

i was just so struck by the fragility of our human lives. i saw her lying there, staring off into the corner, the left side of her body completely useless to her, and i imagined what she would have been like only a few weeks ago. she was young and vital, completely bowled over by a series of severe and crippling diseases. seeing her and caring for her didn't make me never want to get old or never want to be in the hospital - maybe that's still the adolescent sense of invincibility in me - but it did make me take a minute and fully appreciate what a blessing my mind and my daily functionality is. i did yoga on friday with my roommate, and i'm still incredibly stiff and sore, but at least i can still move, at least i can still determine reality from hallucination...

it was difficult, in a way, to be in the hospital state-side again - to see everything that is made available for these patients, and then to think back to my own experience or to read the blogs of my friends still in sierra leone and hear about the struggles with equipment and medication and even more fundamental things like electricity and water...but, in the end, i have to enter into the suffering of the person i am with. i couldn't deny that woman the support, respect, and love that she needed just because she happened to have access to top notch healthcare.

suffering and pain cannot be measured on some absolute scale...

my heart was singing

yesterday i took a trip to the grocery store, and it was absolutely lovely. i rode the t out with lisbee who was headed down to new york for the weekend, and we were both sitting next to each other when a young mom and her three children came on the train. a little boy, noah, jumped on first – probably six or seven years old. following him was a little girl, leila, who i would guess was just a few years younger than her brother, perhaps four or five. then came mom pushing the youngest in a stroller – a bright-eyed, super friendly toddler with just a small tuft of hair crowning her chubby, round face.

the next thing i know, leila is standing in front of me: ‘can i have a seat, please?’ her small face was full of all sincerity, completely ignorant of how rude or odd that question might come across if asked by an adult yet in full faith that because she asked, her question would be answered in the way she wished. i quickly hopped up from my seat and stood nearby, holding on to the bar and swaying with the train’s sometimes gentle, sometimes jerky motion. the trees and brownstones passed by, and lisbee and i fought outright smiles to hear this little girl have a conversation with her brother while the mother stood there and the toddler smiled away.

sitting here and thinking about that moment, i am struck by the raw innocence which i encountered that morning. a living example of what it means to approach the father with child-like (not childish) faith. i think i might have to name my daughter leila someday...

the grocery store itself was wonderful. i’ve been going more an more to trader joe’s a really inexpensive co-op, mostly organic little place which has spotty selection but always great, healthy food. it was so exhilarating to have my list and my little basket and walk the aisles again picking the things i need from the shelves. i love grocery shopping. i love buying produce and seeing all of its potential. i think of all the ways i’m going to prepare it, and i get so excited. i also purchased canvas grocery bags yesterday – to take a page from my sister – and it was so absolutely lovely to walk out of that grocery store, my two bags full to the brim with promise and potential, feeling one with the earth and god’s creation and his people. my heart was singing...

communication, perspective, and blogging continued

communication is a funny thing. i never thought that when i left sierra leone that my ability to communicate via internet and e-mail would so dramatically decline. i never thought the internet at the team house and the fistula centre – admittedly up and down – would be more reliable and generally faster than the internet at my house in van, texas. it has been wonderful to have my phone back – to hear the voices of the ones i love. despite that it’s taken quite a bit to not get frustrated at my internet-less state.

that said, i write this as we drive to beaumont, texas to move my brother into university there. he’s enrolled in the texas academy for leadership in the humanities, talh for short. it’s an accelerated high school program in which high school juniors and seniors enroll as full time students at lamar university, live on campus, and lead the life of a college student while all of their class credit counts to finish high school requirements as well. it’s a small program with a dedicated staff allowing for a smoother transition into college life. my sister went through the same program, and i would have as well if we had not moved that same year from the ship to the small east texas town of van. too many changes at once.

i want to keep writing here as i go back to school and continue along this adventure of life. my first plan was to use this blog as a tool over the summer to stay in touch with those far away and as a processing tool to deal with the many experiences i knew i would face. but i’ve been learning that life and its happenings can be almost anything you want it to be with a simple adjustment of perspective. having a blog forced me to keep my eyes open when i hit the doldrums of my summer in freetown and felt that i had perhaps written about everything worth writing about. but i was so wrong. peeling back the layers of preconceived ideas about what’s worth mentioning, i discovered a myriad of little things which each deserved its own mention: a look shared between two patients on the ward which, though silent, said so much; the little girl in the poda-poda wearing a wig that made her look twice her age, sitting on her father’s lap and swaying to the reggae music blasting through us and out the windows; the overwhelming feeling that hit me every time i sat down with one of the ladies for my study and recorded bits and pieces of her rich and textured life. but the pattern of life’s weaving is just as complex and detailed in east texas or in boston as in freetown. i just need to open my eyes, change my lenses – any number of cliches could be inserted here. :)

that’s all i wanted to say really. that and thank you to all of you who have been faithful readers. it’s much more fun to write knowing that you’re writing for someone not just the nameless void of cyberspace. i head back to bc on friday, and the adventure continues...

a turtle in east texas

home.

it’s such a fickle, flexible word.

i was talking to christa the other day, and she said that if she could pick one animal to describe her, it would be a monkey. i think my animal would have to be a turtle. someone that takes her home everywhere she goes. i realized that today when, as we pulled into the parking lot, i told my mother something about, “that’s just like home.” home being sierra leone. but sierra leone isn’t my home anymore. i have left that place, and i have taken my home with me.

but can east texas be my home for these few short days? i suppose it must be because i am here. funny logic, i guess.

but i am in east texas. that is for sure. i had the funniest experience the first day i got in. having sat empty for a month, our house and the refrigerator in it were empty. so i ran out to the grocery store. i was so excited, really, to be driving again – to go to a supermarket and know exactly what you were going to find there. it was my first real thing to do, having landed only a few hours earlier.

as i was checking out, an elderly woman came walking into the store holding a remote control in her hand. ‘ah need to git sum bat’tries fer this here ree-mote,’ she announced to know one in particular. ‘but ah cain’t git the back thingy off.’ the store manager appeared from behind one of the shelves, greeted her by name – apparently an old friend, and ushered her over to the display of energizer batteries while he took the remote to sort out the back. i smiled to myself and then turned my attention back to the cashier who was asking for my membership discount card.

a few minutes later, after everything had been sacked and reloaded into my cart, one of the clerks appeared to take my trolley out to the car. at brookshire’s you can never take your own bags to the car. he was a young guy, and we chatted about the weather. a dry spell has hit here leading to several weeks of temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. somehow it came out that i had been in sierra leone, and he asked if i was from teen mania. no – mercy ships. he had heard of us, and knew several people that worked up at the ioc. by that time everything had been loaded into the back of the car, and i was pulling out my keys and sunglasses. he turned to go, wishing me a nice day, but then he turned back. “is there anything i can be prayin’ for – for you or for sierra leone?” i looked from his clear, honest eyes, to the metal cross he wore on a leather cord around his neck. yes, i thought before answering, i’m back in east texas...

rain and re-entry

whenever i told anyone that my flight out of sierra leone was on the tenth of august, the reply was generally the same: the moment of thought, the widening eyes, then the same comment, ‘the day before the elections.’ no one ever said to me, ‘oh, the rainy season.’ but, in the end, it wasn’t the looming elections or campaigning or little skirmishes in the streets which made my journey out of sierra leone the adventure that it was. it was simply the rain.

10 August, 04:02 – awake to the sound of pounding rain rattling the windows outside. surprised to be hearing the rain over the generator, only to pleasantly realize that npa has come to 12 lumley road.

07:29 – ride to work for the last time. note the angry waves off of lumley beach.

09:13 – leave for bliss bakery. get relatively wet despite the nice young guy ferrying people from their cars under a giant beach umbrella.

10:37 – return to work. find that lumley roundabout has turned into a river.

11:56 – phone the helicopter and hovercraft. both are operating their 14:00 services.

12:10 – decide to try for the 14:30 helicopter rather than wait and potentially miss the 18:30 flight. the frenzy begins.

13:07 – grab a sandwich in terri’s apartment. begin goodbyes.

13:25 – tear off a massive piece of plastic with stefani to cover my rucksack. followed by a hilarious attempt to cover said rucksack.

13:45 – load into the 287

13:46 – realize the 287 won’t start

13:48 – load into the land cruiser

13:49 – last hug. last wave.

13:58 – arrive at the heliport. can barely make out the helicopter through the rain and wind. assured the helicopter will go on time. yeah, right.

15:32 – assured the helicopter will go by 16:00.

17:14 – load everything back into the land cruiser

17:18 – arrive at the hovercraft terminal

19:21 – hovercraft departs aberdeen. we were finally on our way as the rain still fell, although the dull roar had calmed to a steady trickle.

departing lungi airport deserves a separate post all its own. quite the experience, i can assure you, full of things like manually propelling the luggage conveyor belt, having to personally assure that your bags make it through the security check and on the carousel headed to the plane, and having your bags searched and a package of peanuts removed while the water was allowed to stay.

once on the plane, things went well. i was sitting next to a lovely elderly sierra leonean woman headed to the uk to help her daughter-in-law who just birthed her third child. three under four – i’m sure grandmum’s help was appreciated. at one point, the nameless woman leaned over to me and asked me in her quiet, whispery voice, ‘are you a believer?’ ‘yes, i am,’ i replied, with an equal measure of the solemnity the woman conveyed. ‘well, that is wonderful,’ was her final statement before returning to her book entitled ‘seven kingdom principles.’

seven hours later, we arrived in london, and the past thirty-six hours or so have been lovely. although, i must say i miss sierra leone terribly. i missed sierra leone when i went to say ‘tenki, ya’ to the immigration officer and then again to the girl behind the ticket counter at the train station and again in the store today. i missed sierra leone when i had to go back to the bathroom, remembering that we do, in fact, have enough water to flush the toilet every time. i missed sierra leone when i thought of the wonderful teammates i have left behind, and how i wish i could share the blessings of these past few days with them. stefani – i went to starbucks for you (twice!) :D i keep finding myself practicing krio in my head as has been my habit these past few months. i keep thinking about what everyone is doing back in 12 lumley road.

tomorrow is monday. tomorrow i will finish my journey and return to my house, to my room, to my life in the united states. tomorrow morning someone else will feed charles’s coffee addiction in the office. someone else will clap and sing in morning devotions. someone else will sit and pray with the women going in for surgery. someone else now somewhere else.

262,800

from this moment, i have seventy-three hours left in sierra leone. what those seventy three hours will bring, i have no idea. but that is four thousand three hundred and eighty minutes. that’s two hundred sixty-two thousand, eight hundred seconds. 262,800 moments – 262,800 more chances for 262,800 memories. it seems like a lot, but it isn’t enough.

being so close to the end lends itself naturally to times of reflection. but i’m trying my best to fight that urge because every moment i spend living in the past i miss a moment in the present. i’m also trying my hardest to avoid planning the future because, again, those are precious moments that i won’t get back. living in the present has always been one of my greatest challenges. my tendency is to be a forward-looker, a plan-aheader and i have followed this instinct for many years. but i have to say that being in africa rather forces you to live moment-by-moment. like when we woke up yesterday morning and the generator had gone off. you learn to adapt, light candles, boil water, etc. and when the generator would not turn on again last night, the adventure continued, including taking apart, repairing, and putting back together again several kerosine lanterns. no worries, all my camping friends, i now know quite a bit about kerosine lanterns. :)

you make plans here, but you hold them loosely. like my eight o’clock appointment who still has yet to come at 9:10. at restaurants its probably the best plan to select three good options from the menu in the common event that they do not have what you first ordered. like yesterday – at ramada’s beach bar, christa and i stopped in for a drink on our way back home from the centre. the situation went something like this:

- we have soft drink, juice, star beer...

- what juice do you have?

- we have mango, pineapple, guava...

- i’ll have mango

- okay, no problem

(several minutes later, the waitress returns bearing guava juice)

- we have no mango juice

- guava is fine. :)

you really become used to it, and you hardly even notice anymore when it happens. or, you notice it, but you stop being surprised.

so what do the next now 261, 900 moments have in store for me? i’m not sure, but i’m excited...

the planned day v. the actual day

i am slowly but surely running out of creative ways to begin my blog-posts – not that how i have been starting them has been particularly creative. how many times have i started my posts with ‘it’s been a busy day’ or ‘it’s raining’? :)

i think i’m finally caught up on rest, though. i went to bed early last night, and woke up on my own accord at five thirty, so i guess i had gotten enough sleep at that point. you know, i just have to say, i love weekends. i love weekdays as well, but i love that on a weekend, i can get up, pad around – make a whole pot of tea instead of just a cup, and spend the whole morning drinking it. i love that i can choose not to take a shower and wear my most comfortable clothes.

i’m leaving in about half an hour to head down to lumley beach to see the sierra leonean amputee sports club (football team) practice. they usually scrimmage for a bit, and then maybe play a short game if the weather is nice. it looks as though the rain may hold off, which would be so wonderful. the past few days have been much less wet than before, but you never know. stefani is coming with me, and after we’re going to walk up to bliss patisserie – a little lebanese-owned restaurant where they sell coffee, pastries, and food. it’s a heavenly little oasis – one of the only places out that i’ve found that serves proper coffee – everywhere else is hot water and instant nescafe. not bad, but somehow fails to hit the spot when you want a good cup of coffee. :) then this afternoon, we have our long-awaited cooking lesson with abdul. a full day, but i’m looking forward to it all! it’s crazy that it’s my last weekend. at dinner last night, someone asked me what i particularly wanted to do on my last weekend, and i nearly fell out of my seat – i hadn’t even realized that i won’t have another saturday or sunday in sierra leone. not for a long time, at least. so weird....

i just wanted to jot a quick note about my day on thursday. stefani and went out with to new steps at waterloo. they send out mobile health teams every day to a few different sites on a kind of rotating schedule. as it was thursday, we headed out to rokupa – a village in between the outskirts of freetown and waterloo. after picking up vaccines from a local clinic, we headed out and set up shop outside a blacksmith’s shop. it’s operated by a man named pa mustafa, and it’s operated entirely by polio victims. pa mustafa is a victim of polio himself. so incredible to see – this extremely muscular man whose body suddenly shrivels up below the waist. a super friendly man, though. i wished that i could stay and chat with him a while, but we had plenty of patients waiting. i was afraid that i would end up spending the day just observing – so i spoke to the nurse, helen, telling her that i was a nursing student and more than happy to help. ‘nor worry, laurence,’ she said. ‘we get plenty work for you to do,’ and she was right! i ended up being in charge of all the well-baby checks. i weighed all the under-fives in our little hanging scale, charted their growth, and immunized the ones who were due for an opv and pentavalin.

it was absolute madness. i hunkered down to my task around ten am, and the next time i looked up, it was three. there was a seemingly endless stream of mothers with babies of various ages – the majority of which receiving their vaccines out of order or at a time other than the recommended age specified on their vaccination record.

every child should receive at birth bcg (against tuberculosis) and their first opv (against polio). then at six weeks it’s the first dpt/hep – a combined vaccine against diptheria and hepatitis – and the second opv. these two are to be repeated twice more at ten and fourteen weeks. then at nine months, the vaccines are completed with one yellow fever and one measles vaccine. out of the fifteen children i saw, i think one was on schedule. two were over the age of two. the vaccines themselves were out of date, and we didn’t have alcohol swabs to cleanse the injection site. the sharps container was nearly full when i began, making proper disposal of the syringes difficult. the cotton, when i retrieved it from the container, was swarming with ants. all in a day’s work, i suppose. it was a really eye-opening experience to the realities of a community clinic in a developing country. at the fistula centre and the opc, we are extremely spoiled in our accessibility to materials and medicines, and even they are not as nearly well stocked as almost any clinic in america. i was becoming extremely frustrated with it all, but then i saw the mothers standing in line, clutching their infants with a look of mixed anxiety and awe. i realized that to them i – childless, husband-less, younger, and less life-worn – was an authority figure. the weight of their expectation and trust was overwhelming. and so i did my very best possible by all of my tiny patients. i laughed with the mothers and with the crowd of little kids who gasped every time i uncapped a needle. it was an amazing experience – but absolutely exhausting. it has taken me until today to really overcome the aching tired which set in thursday afternoon.

- - - - - - - -

that was what i wrote this morning, intending to post from bliss, but they apparently do not have internet, so i've had to wait until now.

as always, the day ended up a bit differently than planned. in fact stefani and i were just commenting on how our time in sierra leone has definitely taught us both to hold all plans loosely - with the expectation that something will change or end up differently.

we made it to the beach right on time, only to find no football players. thinking we may be a bit early, stefani, christa, and myself spent some time just walking on the beach. we happened to pass one of the football players - the team's striker, and he told us that the coach had just phoned him to say that practice will be cancelled for the month of august - rain, elections, lack of funds, all combined to make meeting on a weekly basis too much of a hassle. so, fortunately, stefani has some pictures from when we went last time (when i had forgotten my camera), and i'll hopefully get those uploaded soon.

our time at bliss was good - but also different than we had expected. they did not have wireless internet, and i had packed everything up this morning, but not my adapter to plug my computer in. i totally didn't even think of it, completely forgetting that the restaurant would obviously have the different plugs. so i managed to get a fair bit of work done before my battery died, which was great.

the cooking lesson went really well - but again a bit different. abdul had done so much prep work that everything came together within forty-five minutes. :) i determined that i really liked eating with my hands, that fufu is good if a bit bland, and that okra soup is relatively easy to make if you have all of the right ingredients. i also determined that i do not particularly like palm oil, and i was reminded that africans generally have a much higher tolerance for the tiny hot peppers that you put in.

and this afternoon/evening has been a quiet one. it was a beautiful, clear day, and the rain has just begun to fall again. tomorrow's agenda: church one last time at st. luke's, a quick trip over to the clinic, and the beach (if the weather allows!)

more later...

roots redux

this morning, i started writing my final report today for my advanced study grant. at lunch, i had a deep conversation with terri about moving on from this time and this place. this afternoon one of the nurses who i won’t see again due to shift scheduling said goodbye to me. i’ve started to get this creepy-crawly feeling like goosebumps on the inside. when i think of leaving, my stomach knot and unknots itself in rapid succession – an altogether unpleasant experience.

this is how leaving always is for me – even if i have only been in that place for a short while. here is an excerpt of something i wrote over a year ago when i was leaving to return to school after christmas break. i stumbled across it the other day, and it’s funny how it still rings true:

the human tendency to put down roots. the most insidious part of this tendency is the fact that we don’t realize that we have put down roots until we have to tear them up. we tie strings from our hearts to people, places, special times, or significant others. then when the time comes to move, the only alternative is to rip away, breaking all of our bonds like a hot air balloon snapping its moorings, like ripping up the hair on our arm or leg when removing a band-aid, or like pulling up a plant by its stem.

as the pulling begins, there is a moment of greatest resistance, and if the pull is strong enough for long enough, the lines begin to break. it’s a kind of sucking pop which sickens the heart and yet is strangely satisfied in its own right.

some ties are harder than others to break, and generally the harder the break, the harder the hurt...

it’s a healthy pain, though. just like a tree or grapevine, our heartstrings must be pruned in order to be more fruitful and grow more strongly. the funny thing is that i don’t regret putting down roots, and i won’t hesitate to put roots down again. part of the reason why i won’t hesitate again is because i won’t know that i’m doing it. and ignorance is bliss.

sunshine and joy

i would say today was a fairly productive day.

i got up in the morning, and really had no idea what to expect. yesterday had been relatively slow, and rather heartbreaking. i was in the opc with guido when we had to tell a mother that her two week son, born with spina bifida, would not survive. it was mind-numbingly painful to see the face of this mother as she sat, cradling her convulsing infant realizing that she must begin to say goodbye just as she had begun to say hello. i was pretty shattered by the whole experience, and i was still a bit off this morning. but i had a good cry and the prayed for joy. sunshine and joy were my two prayers for today. and i would have to say they were answered.

the day broke to heavy rain, and as it was still going strong when we piled into the land cruiser this morning, it looked as though we would have our sixth straight day of rain. but by the time we arrived at the clinic, it had stopped, and by ten the sun had begun to beat down on the soggy earth. i quickly took advantage of the moment and walked down with christa to the lumley beach arts and crafts market, was obviously mobbed by shop keepers who haven’t sold anything in ages, but managed to get some good deals on a few things i had on my list before heading home. after being relatively chilled the past few days, it kind of felt good to sweat a bit on the walk back. sunshine.

upon getting back, i heard that there was a lady who i could interview waiting out in the courtyard. so i rushed over with my book, only to find that she was here for a consultation after receiving surgery somewhere else, and that she didn’t qualify for my study. but then, there was another woman there (who i had assumed was the first lady’s traveling companion) who apparently is a former patient, and one of the women whose homes i had visited in all of my searching. so i got my interview after all...

after lunch, i sat on the ward for a bit to cover for the nurses while they had a staff meeting. some of the girls have been teaching my fullah, one of the eighteen tribal languages of sierra leone, and when i was teasing her about how i was about to lose my teacher (she goes home tomorrow), she sat me down and began in earnest to teach me all the basic things she deemed i needed to know. so now i have a half sheet of paper that holds all the fullah words for the parts of the body, basic foods, formal and informal greetings, and the numbers one to ten. it was great! they all laughed when i read the words back to them – astonished that their language could be so perfectly captured on paper. i laughed so hard with them. joy.

sunshine and joy...

rain and a weekend ramble

well, i awoke this morning to the third consecutive day of rain. it ebbs and flows, ranging from a drizzle to a downpour reminiscent of a hurricane (with winds to match), but it never really stops. but one blessing out of it all is how cool it has been. yesterday i had to bundle up with a sweater and a woven blanket i had bought at the market. last night i was downright cold. it's been fun, though, getting caught in the rain and then warming back up again with a cup of tea or hot chocolate. not exactly what i had in mind when i packed for my time here in west africa!

in two weeks exactly, i will be landing in london, and sierra leone will be far behind me. then all i will have is the memories in my heart, the pictures and video clips on my computer, and the various things i have picked up along the way: two calabash (a type of gourd) bowls, a few strings of beads, a blanket, and some wooden animals. it's a rather depressing thought, actually. but with change always comes growth, and i am beginning to look forward with great anticipation to the coming semester. i have some really wonderful classes ahead of me, a family of loving friends, and many adventures in store.

the one thing that i am probably looking forward to with the most is the independence of being at school. any feminists which feel that american women are oppressed by the male race really should step out of the box a bit and come to sierra leone. it's not so very awful at least on the surface. but when i hear that our women (who are advised to remain sexually abstinent for six months in order to heal fully) can't go back to their husbands right away because they will be forced into sexual intercourse, or about husbands who leave their wives because they having children and take any children she has had with him, or about the beatings and violence - i begin to see a glimmer of what i have been so blessed as not to experience.

for me here, it only becomes evident as a vague feeling of discomfort. it comes in the calls of 'hey white girl' from across the street, in the winks of the male passersby, in that indescribable look of ownership and hunger in so many of the faces of the young men i have met along the road which speaks so clearly: you are a woman and i can do whatever i like with you. you are white and therefore you are an especially exotic toy. generally, i brush it off. but the hardest to endure is when it's a couple walking together and the husband or boyfriend blatantly flirts with me while his wife/girlfriend is standing right there. she stands there, eyes cast to the ground. glancing up, our eyes catch and i see a brief flicker of something. pain, anger, sorrow, despair? i can't be sure. but my heart aches as i continue along the way. i have begun to take a perverse pleasure in completely ignoring all the men i meet along my walks, acknowledging the women only. these greetings are often met by surprise and, just maybe, a smile.

don't get me wrong, not every relationship is like that. i have seen husbands come to the clinic faithfully to visit their wives. sitting with them and touching them when no one else outside the hospital will. i have seen women so strong and forceful that you almost fear for their husband at home. i have seen women who know that they have a value independent of who they are married to, how many children they have, or how much they sell at market. but i also live in freetown, and i know that the rest of sierra leone - the real sierra leone - is much different.

honestly, i'm not sure where i am going with all of this, but these are the ramblings that fill my mind on these rainy, rainy days. i think that time will bring equality to sierra leone. already i see women beginning to question the status quo - the result of the efforts of countless men and women working for a handful of ngos over the years, as well as the efforts of many a pastor and politician. as the elections approach, i wonder honestly what will happen. i wonder if the special strengths and skills of the sierra leonean women will be embraced or once again placed on the back of a shelf somewhere. in neighboring liberia, the presidency of her excellency ellen sirleaf-johnson is a wonderful example of what african women have to offer. my times in the kitchen at the clinic, helping with cooking and picking out bits and pieces of the Krio chatter, have taught me that i certainly couldn't measure up to these bold, courageous, and altogether amazing women...

in more general news, things at the clinic are small-small. the rains and the upcoming election have slowed our steady stream of patients to an ever dwindling trickle. we'll be down to one ward on monday - thirteen patients altogher, i think. but as all the girls that i have become so close to leave to go home, it makes my own departure that much easier.

a full head

it's funny. the thing which i have treasured most about my time so far in sierra leone, is how my head has been perfectly empty. life and my particular role therein was relatively simple. actually almost non-existent. all i have really had to do was be sure to wake up and get out to transport on time. but things have been different today. it's not that i have been particularly busier or that my day has looked that different from any other day. but for the first time in nearly two months, i had to make a to-do list.

for those of you who know me from school, you know that i operate on a perpetual cycle of to-do lists. i love the feeling of getting everything that's swirling about down in such a concrete way - on paper, on the computer, on my calendar, in my day-planner. for some reason, seeing everything neatly bulleted and organized makes me feel as though it can all get done. since arriving in sierra leone, i have not had to make a single one. until today.

very little of the list has to do with life here, actually. it's all focused on things i need to do before i go, things i need to do when i get home, and a few things that have to be done before the weekend or before the end of the day. i greet this first of many transitions back to my former life with a mixture of pleasure and dread. in a way, it's like returning to a long-lost friend. in another way, i didn't particularly miss that buzzing feeling in my head of countless thoughts which consistently refuse to be tied down.

but it really isn't so bad as it sounds. when i think of many of the aspects of school which lie in front of me - the relationships, the activities, the excitement, the adventure, the lessons to be learned. it really is wonderful. and if i have to heighten my stress level a bit, and take on a bit more responsibility, then so be it...

from yesterday

it’s such a surprise. today i am sitting on my bed in my room typing by the filtered light of late afternoon, and it’s only five thirty. we all left the centre by five, which hasn’t happened since i came back from liberia. it actually makes little difference whether we get back by five thirty or six thirty. there’s always something to do at the centre, and we don’t get power here until after dinner. but it is nice to have a bit of time to unwind before sitting down to eat. and it gives me a proper time to sit and update my blog!

it’s amazing how you start the day with no real plans or to-do list, and the day fills itself up. today i came to work with nothing really on my plate. three former patients were tentatively scheduled to come for a visit and chat with me, but the torrential rain, which started last night and ended up continuing until about two or three this afternoon, made those prospects fairly slim. but then i got to work, and everything sorted itself out. there were discharge cards which had to be made, operative reports which had to be filed, the admin office to clear out and clean, patients to talk to, toenails to paint, and before i knew it, it was ten to four. then one of my participants ended up showing up, and i had a wonderful little interview with her.

so now i’m here, and i’m looking forward to a long evening with my book. terri has loaned me ‘the devil that danced on the water,’ which is the autobiography/memoir of a woman who grew up in sierra leone during the tumultuous times of siaka stevens. her father was actually the finance minister and the right-hand man to the promising apc leader-turned tyrant. i’m only half-way through, and i really have no idea what’s coming next. but it’s written in such a nice way – a series of short stories and memories – that i can really pick it up for any amount of time, short or long. i highly recommend it. :)

it was, in the end, a simple day. so many things now just fall into place, and only every once in a while do i wake up out of myself and the reality of where i am and what i am doing hits me. i am so incredibly blessed to be where i am. it’s like a mantra which flows within me throughout the day: i am blessed. i am blessed. i am blessed. when i make a patient laugh by my unreserved attempts to speak fullah. i am blessed. when i get to sit with and touch a patient who hasn’t felt human touch for years because of her fistula. i am blessed. when i greet the staff by name and hear my name returned. i am blessed. when i sit in the growing dark of the falling dusk and hear the sounds of the freetown suburbs – so different from the suburbs of home. i am blessed...

sunday report

sunday was a lovely day. it started off well enough: i woke up to rain. it was absolutely lovely. and even better than that was that it had cleared away by the time i headed out to church. i greatly enjoyed my walk to the wilberforce barracks, and though i was later than i usually am, i didn’t really miss very much.

the mass itself was really lovely. i’ve struggled in the past, with the language and cultural barriers, to really get spiritual nourishment out of the services at st. luke’s. yesterday, however, there was a visiting priest, on his way to magburkah village outside of makeni town, and he was just the most lovely priest. usually the sunday sermon becomes an opportunity to speak as loudly and as creatively as possible into the microphone. the catholic church much less than other churches, but it still tends to happen. sermons wander from one idea to the other spontaneously flowing out of the preachers’ mouths, but this priest was different. he spoke clearly and succinctly to the heart of the message in today’s gospel. he was reserved yet passionate about what he talked about. the message focused on the gospel of matthew, where jesus says, ‘my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.’

his main message is that your burdens become lighter when carried with love. he told a hilarious story which illustrated his point. during the war, he was traveling from makeni and came to a river which he had to cross. boats were there, but they wouldn’t pull right into the shore but stay a few feet away in the water. upon arriving, he noticed a couple waiting there as well. it was a small, small man, he said, and a big, fat woman, nearly five times her husband’s size. ‘she mus’ be one hundred an’ feefty kilos.’ the wife was dressed fine, fine from head to foot. she didn’t want to wade out into the water, so her husband offered to carry her out. the priest watched in amazement as he easily picked up his enormous wife ‘as if she were a piece of bread.’ the next week, on his way back to makeni, the priest came across the same man. this time he was traveling alone. the priest was completely amazed, then, to see the man struggling to pick up a fifty kilo bag of rice which he had with him. in fact, in the end, the man had to have another man help him hoist the fifty kilos of rice into the boat. when the priest asked him why he couldn’t carry the rice after he had carried his fat wife easily, the man replied that he didn’t love the rice like he loved his wife. the church was laughing so hard, but i think everyone received the message as well.

on the way out of church, i ran into a father and son who i had met briefly two weeks before. we were walking in the same direction, so we walked together for a bit. he introduced himself as mr. kargbo, and his son is james. he is a corporal in the national army, and his young son has just graduated to class one. they were on their way to mr. kargbo’s mothers home where james stays during the week. mr. kargbo’s wife died in april of this year. she apparently miscarried and proceeded to hemorrhage. they weren’t able to get to the hospital in time. it was really very sad, but then we moved on to talk of his work, my work, the election, and his predictions of the probability of violence. he thinks that it will be, in the end, quite peaceful ‘by the grace of god,’ which was encouraging to hear. it was just so lovely to know that i now know someone in the church, and as we parted ways at mamba point roundabout, we promised to look for each other next week.

upon getting back to the house, i grabbed a quick lunch and then began cooking for dinner. it actually all turned out really well. i had made up an enchilada-type sauce the night before which i mixed into the tinned chicken. making the tortillas really was the largest effort, but they turned out quite well, which made it all worth it. everyone enjoyed it (or so they said), and i thought it was quite good as well, although i personally thought that it was a bit bland for mexican food. but, in the end, i would count it as a success, and i think that stefani was blessed by it, which was the whole point. :)

i crashed around ten, and didn’t wake up until ten to six this morning. now i’m at work, and we’ll just have to see what the day brings!

weekend update

another weekend is halfway gone, and i can hardly believe it. i'm one week closer to leaving this place, with its amazing highs, desperate lows, and plenty-plenty mediocrity in between. there have for sure been enough days that were just hum-drum, but then i wake up every morning and realize that i'm in freetown, sierra leone! i'm doing what i want to do, and it's such a blessing. the biggest surprise this summer has been the amazing-ness of the people i have been so blessed to meet. people working in all sorts of non-profits and ngos that have such incredible visions for the future and passions for their work.

on friday, i got to go with stefani and geraldine (one of her co-workers) to see various places doing physio work. we stopped by the military hospital in the wilberforce barracks, right next to where i go to church; handicap international, which, having been handed over to the ministry of health, is now called the national rehabilitation centre; and emergency, a hospital run by an italian ngo. at emergency i met a really neat swiss nurse who has worked for quite some time in afghanistan, in the northern bit of the country, where emergency actually opened the first official maternity centre. michaela, the nurse, was telling me how incredible it was to be providing healthcare for and celebrating the lives of women who had never stepped foot into a formal healthcare facility or doctor's office ever before. just being able to value these women as they participated in the great mystery of life...there is a seed growing within me, and i already feel the gentle tugging of my next big adventure. :)

today, we hosted an emotional awareness workshop for the nursing staff at the centre. i actually didn't participate very much. stefani and i spent most of the morning on lumley beach, watching the scrimmages of the single leg amputee sports club, a football (soccer) team which is comprised of all amputees. they are so absolutely incredible, and it was such an honor to watch these men defying the fate which had been handed out to them during the civil war. they are all absolutely determined to still have life on their own terms!

then we spent the rest of the day on the ward with the patients so that the nurses on duty could participate as well. it was a quiet afternoon on the ward, and the women passed their time rolling balls of wool that they will receive next week, and i worked on putting some thoughts together for the bible study that i'm leading next week. another person in the group was scheduled, but something came up and some things shifted, and i was willing. it really was a beautiful day for that sort of thing. there was a good breeze blowing the whole day, especially on the beach, and the rain came right in the middle of the day to cool everything off. it was absolutely glorious to sit in the courtyard in between the wards and just read...

there was a funny moment, when we stopped by freetown supermarket on the way home. as we pulled up, we noticed how busy it was. the wee, small parking lot in front of the store front was jam-packed with cars. upon going inside, we realized that the store was also full of people. it was the most white people that i have seen in one place in such a long time! i was completely overwhelmed. especially by hearing english. i had just forgotten how to interact with a white stranger. one older english chap whom i had passed a few times in the aisles finally addressed me, "how are you, ma'am?" and i was so totally taken aback. i think i ended up mumbling something like, "hello, thank you," and scurrying past. getting back in the car after a few minutes, i thought back on that encounter and felt like a complete idiot. but then i had to laugh at myself. you know you're in africa when...

but it was a good day, and i think it will be a good weekend. monday is stefani's birthday, so we are making dinner for her tomorrow night. i've kind of spear-headed the whole thing, and decided to make her some of the good tex-mex she has been missing ever since leaving east texas. so on the menu for tomorrow is: tortilla chips, pico de gallo, guacamole, enchiladas suizas (although we are renaming them enchiladas salone), black beans, and mexican rice. only we are in west africa, so we've had to be creative with some of the recipes. how do you make salsa verde, for example, without green chiles or tomatillos? how do you make enchiladas without tortillas? i'll let you know how it goes! :)

rainy weather and teary eyes

i woke up today to pouring rain. not just the drizzly stuff which normally comes and goes during the day, but a real cats and dogs downpour. it’s funny because, once again, the weather kind of fit my mood. today was gladi-gladi day, except no one was going home dry. at their discharge education time, they were given the option of not having the ceremonial celebration, but they all wanted to. whether to celebrate their time here or to simply keep up appearances, i do not know. but we sat there, sang our songs, presented the girls, and prayed over them. but we dispersed very simply without the traditional singing and procession around the courtyard. it was, all in all, very sad.

then they all went and gathered their things, and the tears started to flow. first seray, then me, then isatu. we all stood rather awkwardly by the door, crying and pretending not to cry. you see, crying isn’t really popular here, but until today i didn’t really understand why. apparently for some people here, crying because of hardship, etc. is essentially a statement of distrust and unfaith in god. also, there is always someone who has had it worse than you, and to cry is disrespectful to that person’s experience. it was definitely hard to stand and listen to person after person berate seray in front of me for being emotional. i tried my best to force the tears away, and, as a result, have had that headachy feeling all day.

surprise, surprise, it’s raining again. we had, all in all, six hours of dry weather today. just enough time for some of the bigger puddles to drain a bit before being filled up again for the night. i have to say though that i quite enjoy the rain and rainy days. at home, rainy days can be so dismal. but here, it is such a part of life that most things generally continue on as normal. there is just less noise. the din of music, honking horns, and other vestiges of life are generally dimmed by nature’s music of wind and rain. and i love falling asleep to it at night. plus, it cools everything off so wonderfully. the moments before and after the rain are my favorite. i even donned a little cardigan the other day. a perfectly delicious moment. :)

heartbreak and providence

i’m sitting in the dark. the rain, whose steady falling creates a musical symphony to the percussion of my typing, has driven all vestiges of the sun from view. it normally gets fairly dark around this time of night – 18:15 or so – but never is it so dark that you must almost grope from room to room. but the dark is actually very nice. a comforting peace after long days full of busy-ness and heartbreak.

that really describes today for me. that and providence. a bit of an oxymoron: heartbreak and providence, but let me explain.

the morning opened up beautifully. following a plan of forty days of prayer for sierra leone and the looming political elections, i opened the morning praying for god to dispel the clouds of corruption from this beautiful country. walking out into sunshine instead of rain was such a blessing to my poor human mind which gropes for signs on which to hang my faith. the first item on the agenda, after opening the admin office, making coffee, and then going to devotions, was to take two of our patients in for hiv testing at connaught, the government hospital. i was thankful for the opportunity to see again the centre that i had visited with harriet and abibatu upon first arriving. the trouble was that the girls spoke limba and fullah respectively and about a drop of krio between them. thankfully, francis, one of the drivers, was taking us, and whether or not either woman was able to understand him, his confident, authoritative manner was easy enough to understand.

the testing went well enough without too much of a wait for the test results. thankfully, both girls were negative! such a praise...while i was in the office, i wished so badly that i could take a picture or maybe just be able to download the experience from my brain to my computer so that i could share it with you all. there are so many memories of sierra leone that are like that. i wish that i had more patience for writing so that i could sit and record every detail faithfully, but it’s not really my personal gifting. ah well... :)

in any case, the trip into town took most of the morning, but we were back to the centre by lunch. the girls were so relieved to be back. apparently when they saw the big land cruiser they had come in, they thought that they were being taken back home, without warning to pack any of their personal belongings and without having surgery!

right as i walked in the door, i saw my friend, seray, laying on her bed. i went over to say hello, but noticed that she was quite out of sorts. when i asked her why she was sad, she finally looked at me and told me that she had woken up wet that morning. completely thunderstruck, i struggled to say anything at all. when i took her hand, we both began to cry. in seray, i have experienced a true understanding of what it means to be afflicted by fistula in sierra leone. we are told how it ostracizes the woman from her community, how devastating it is, how life-changing the surgery can be, but that doesn’t really mean anything. it all stays up in your head and becomes another fact that you spit out in your carefully organized spiel. with seray, it struck right to my heart. i saw the utter devastation in her face, and i couldn’t stand up to it. nothing i can do or say will take that pain away from her. so i didn’t say anything.

when we both settled down a bit, after seray had poured out to me the woes of her journey with this condition and her bitter disappointment, i looked through the doctor’s notes and explained to her what was recorded there, and how there was still hope for full healing and recovery. she understood, and we moved on to other things, namely her education.

i have felt a burden for a while for seray’s education. she is so bright, and she really gets it. after talking with her, she told me that she would like to finish secondary school, but she thinks that it would be better to go to a vocational school instead and learn a trade which she can continue on in. she also told me that she would be coming back to freetown sometime soon. that she would only be visiting kabala for a few weeks. her mother kicked her out of the house when she lost the baby and started leaking urine, and now that her mother is re-married following the sudden death of seray’s father, there are plenty of new little ones to keep her mother occupied.

so i was well on my way to trying to sort out some sort of way that i could set up a trust fund of sorts for her education, when god really landed everything in my lap. when i asked her where in freetown she was staying, she told me that she was in fact going to be living with one of the nurses, fatmata. when i checked with fatmata, and she is, in fact, taking seray in, and she had already begun looking into a vocational school that is right down the street. such a blessing!

heartbreak and providence. you can’t tell me that god doesn’t exist...

quick summary no. 2

it's sunday evening, and i have a few days to catch you up on. so i'm going to repeat what i've done before and bullet the highlights:

• friday - i spent the day at wellington orphanage with stefani and kerri, an australian woman who's been helping out at the centre while her husband is here on work, training the customs anti-trafficking force. we treked up a bit of hill to be greeted by heaps of smiling faces. the kids are going to summer school, so they trickled into the orphanage, and when they had all arrived, we split them into smaller groups. i got the wee ones, some of whom were reading some of whom weren't. so we read the gingerbread man together aloud and worked on reading comprehension by having each one draw his or her own illustrations for the different parts of the story. one girl, fatmata, ended up attaching herself to me. i don't know if there was a minute where i wasn't holding her hand or hugging her as everyone bustled about. i loosened my hold a few times to let her go do other things if she wanted, but she would only grasp my hands tighter. later, we stopped at ramada's beach bar and restaurant for a mango juice on the beach on the way home. i baked some banana bread that evening, and we ended up playing a make-shift version of tabboo, which was particularly humourous with our german pediatrician, guido.
• saturday - got up early and did some work on the computer while we had power. then we piled into the car and headed out to river number two beach. spent a beautiful day on the sand. there was an especially neat moment when i was standing in the freshwater of the river where it shallows and bends before joining the ocean. i stood in the water for a time, watching the rain clouds roll down the side of the mountain in front of me. then the rain itself came, and i was struck by the fact that i was completely surrounded by water - above, below, and all around me...but then the rain cleared and it was a beautiful sunny day, and we got to swim a bit in the huge waves.
• today - i headed out early with stefani to go to the church in wellington pastored by the man who also heads up the orphanage. one of the associate pastors, Pastor Bull, had just had a baby boy about three weeks ago, and his wife invited us on friday to the naming ceremony and dedication service happening today. we caught a lift with vez and emma who were also headed out in the same direction, which was the first of many unexpected blessings which characterized the day. the service itself was good - longer than the catholic service i'm used to going to, but really not that bad. the worship was really nice, and the community was incredibly welcoming. plus it was fun to see some of the kids from friday. the naming ceremony bit of the service was really fun. the whole church was up out of their seats cheering for this little bit of a baby. his name, if you are interested, is adam shadraq bull. both parents were so proud, especially the papa. it was so sweet to see. we ducked out after the service, but before the extended time of teaching and fellowship, determined to catch public transport back to the team house. three of the orphans walked with us down to the main road and helped us hail the right poda-poda (krio for hither and thither and the cheapest form of public transport). that took us all the way into downtown, stopping on ecowas street. after a bit of confusion and some kind guidance from a female police officer, we finally found the peugot stand (peugot station wagons which operate a bit like taxis but fit more people) and found one heading out to lumley via spur road. while in the car, we got an earful of political talk from one of our fellow passengers. but it was friendly enough, and to be perfectly honest i had a hard time following his many stories so i nodded gravely and he seemed fairly pleased. :) in the afternoon, my housemates went out to the chimpanzee reserve, but i opted out at the last minute. i will miss not seeing the chimps, but i realized that it had been awhile since i had taken a bit of time on the weekend to just sit at the house, read, and journal. and now i'm writing this...

this coming week looks to be a busy one - at least something every day, which is great. hopefully i will also get some progress made on my study. i'm going out one more day into town before things get too crazy and i have a few women on the ward as well that i would like to talk to. everything seems to be going so quickly all of a sudden. i can't believe that it's already 15th july...in a month i'll be home. weird. and i think the weeks will just get faster and faster as they fill up with projects, trips, things to do, and people to see. but i'm determined to not hurry it away by looking too much to the future. rather, i want to focus on the moment and day in front of me.

in doing so right now, i'm realizing how tired i am. :)

up, down, and all around

today was a busy day. boy, it feels good to say that! i think my biggest struggle since coming to sierra leone has been feeling as though i'm actually contributing anything to this little community. but in the flux of staff coming and going, there are a lot of little gaps, and i have been able to pick up some of slack, and it's been wonderful.

the day started off on a really pleasant note. after devotions with the patients and staff, i reported to the kitchen for my first cooking lesson. thursday's lunch is rice with pumpkin ('punky') sauce, and it's my favorite dish out of the week. aunty evelyn said that it would be fine for me to come to the kitchen and learn. the whole of the domestic staff took on this bumbling white girl as i learned to chop vegetables in my hand, to use a mortar and pestle properly, and how to taste the sauce without burning your hand. i won't bore you with the details of how the sauce is made, but i will be more than happy to cook it for any interested parties upon my return! i was firmly pronounced an african woman, and i had a glimpse of what it would be like to have been born into an african family - the comraderie, the teasing, the community, and the social nature of all parties involved. i definitely felt like a niece of fatu as she directed me about the kitchen, described the steps she was taking, and was steered away from things i wasn't allowed to do. the young guys who came to the back door for a cup of tea and a biscuit could have been my cousins, and the other women in the kitchen my sisters. it was really, really wonderful.

everything was done by eleven o'clock, so i spent the rest of the morning and the early afternoon entering data from my study into the computer. i'm such a mess, and it felt really good to be organized. my time at the computer was broken up by trips out with the ward camera to take pictures ('snaps') of patients for their discharge cards. then guido, a pediatrician from germany, came and found me. there was a girl in the waiting room of the opc (outpatient pediatric clinic) with a substantial maxillo-facial tumor whose picture he wanted me to take for possible referral to the ship in liberia.

mariama is six years old and the little spot on her gums had, in two weeks, blossomed into a massive growth completely distorting the right side of her face. barely able to open her mouth, she had begun to lose weight, and it broke my heart to see this tiny little girl sitting in the doctor's office, her feet dangling off of the floor, with tears streaming down her distended face. coming from up-country, she didn't speak krio, and i was at a complete loss for words to comfort her. i don't know what will happen to her, honestly. as best i can remember, the ship doesn't have a surgeon on board at the moment who specializes in facial tumors. because her tumor has grown so fast, it's really difficult to know how long she'll be able to last before her airway becomes obstructed or she can no longer eat or drink. i will keep you updated if i hear anything else...

in other news, seray, my friend from the ward, is dry! her catheter was pulled today, and when i checked in with her in the early afternoon she hadn't leaked since right after the catheter was pulled. i almost shouted with joy, and seray laughed at me. "yu likah laf," she always tells me (laf = smiling or really any outward sign of happiness). "i do, very much," i told her. "you make me gladi."

i also had the extremely rare treat of speaking with one of my dearest friends from school, meg, by phone today. she has a calling card, and decided to splurge on me. it really made my day. i know it's cliche, but it really was like a long drink of cold water.

then i spent the rest of the early evening researching online. it's funny the more i read about global health policy work and some of these international cooperatives and foundations and initiatives and programs, the less i want anything to do with them. but we'll see, won't we. :)

now my laundry is in the dryer, and i'm wrapping up some things for the day. it really was an up-down-all-around day...

politics and prayers

today was really a very good day. for the first part, we had power when i woke up. yesterday morning, i had awoken at five to the sound of silence. then the incessant barking and howling of the neighborhood dogs. i’ve never been comfortable with the sound of a dog barking, and when it’s eight or nine of them together, sleep stays quite far.

but this morning was lovely, and i particularly enjoyed sleeping all the way until six. this morning i helped out in the OPC (outpatient pediatric clinic). wednesdays are days for vaccines and referrals, and i was able to help the nurses with some of the vaccinations. i weighed a lot of babies, gave two vaccinations, got peed upon, slobbered upon, and almost pooped upon, and i loved every minute. a five day old baby came in, and he was perhaps one of the most beautiful thing i have ever seen so i didn’t mind when he (nappy-less) peed all over the place. his mom was a first timer, and she was so cute, nearly jumping out of her chair when he sneezed.

i went for lunch with terri and susan to bliss bakery. it was so nice to get out of the compound for a little bit during the day. the apc (all people’s congress) supporters were out en masse all decked out in red. free-for-all campaigning opened on monday, and i have witnessed some sort of political demonstration almost every day this week. today was the day that the apc candidate was announcing his manifesto of campaign promises so almost everyone out today was dressed in red. but the grapevine brought us news of the election’s first casualty. apparently, an apc supporter walked into the slpp (sierra leone people’s party) party headquarters and when he refused to leave began to be beaten. he was beaten to death. we spent out lunch watching knots of red clad people dancing down the street past the plate glass windows on their way into town and could only dream about the state of freetown in a month’s time on the day of the elections.

i spent the afternoon running around a bit more and interviewing a few more women for my study. they had both come back to the centre complaining of stress incontinence, and as we are unable to help them, are about to go home. but i had a chance to talk to them both, which is really such a blessing. especially because my ability to go out and recruit participants will now be severely limited by the demonstrations in town. it was really neat to talk to them both. its interesting. part of my interview comes from a quality of life/stress test questionnaire, and nearly all of my women, whether or not their surgery was successful, have returned similar results. there just isn’t an easy life in sierra leone.

yesterday, i spent the afternoon chatting with one of the patients who has become a very close friend, seray. she’s the only one left who has had a bit of schooling and her english is quite good. it was actually really funny, because we had been carrying on a conversation, and i was getting quite proud of my krio. then seray asked me if i wanted to learn krio. yes, i replied. okay, she said, i will stop talking in english. :) i almost died laughing. but in our conversation, it was very interesting to hear seray speak of sierra leone. ‘it’s a beautiful country,’ she told me. ‘but if i ever get a chance, i will leave it. there are no opportunities here. salone suffers. it suffers because there are no opportunities. no one get job so no one get any money and so all man suffer.’ looking around, sometimes i can’t help but agree. i think of seray in london or new york city. her sister has been. she met a brit and lied to him when he showed an interest in her. she said she didn’t have a husband when she did. he was probably away in the mines or upcountry working somewhere. couples and families often live apart here. her british ‘man’ took her to london, but when he found a love letter to seray’s sister from her proper husband, the brit rejected her and sent her back to sierra leone alone.

yet there is so much potential here. i have met so many people with initiative, high hopes, and even bigger dreams. the elections provide a pivotal moment for positive change and growth. please pray with me for sierra leone...