Since I have arrived here we have acquired four new pet birds. I am not so much a fan of birds. Jean really is though. For Christmas he received lovebirds, then when he returned from a speaking engagement he purchased a guinea fowl that runs rampant around the compound and yesterday Ivette bought an owl. I feel like I am in Christopher Robin’s neighborhood. Last night I was trying to fall asleep as the owl was just beginning his day. I hope that I have grown in liking birds by the time I leave. I did have a brilliant idea though as I listened to his hooting that doesn’t at all sound like hooting while trying to fall asleep; we have a mouse problem, and I am thinking one night, Mr. Owl can swoop into our room and rescue us from the noisy shuffling of our mouse/mice.
I wanted to take some time to honour all my friends and family who faithfully read, comment, email and encourage me. We all need one another’s pra*yers and I appreciate all the pra*yers you have faithfully spoken on my behalf. We have been experiencing G*od often and I know that the pra*yers around the world are saving lives and giving us strength to enter the situations we are in. Thank you.
I also wanted to tell everyone that the women I wrote about last week died on Monday. She had meningitis but also was weakened greatly due to progressing AIDS. I didn’t get to meet with her family again; I think maybe I had just missed them. I find myself in these situations wondering, was this your will G*od? How has sin intervened with what you intended? Yet knowing, she was suffering, greatly, and it is G*od’s grace that she isn’t here anymore. I still have a lot to learn about death.
Yesterday in the labour room, there was one woman who had been there for two hours by the time we had arrived. The girls began to monitor her while I went to antenatal care. She had a previous caesarean section and then miscarried twice. We call these cases “precious babies” when the family has come up against many challenges and is absolutely fighting for this baby. When I returned around lunchtime, I noticed how close the family wanted to be to her. They were by her side and didn’t want to leave and moaned when the midwives forced them out. I think they were grateful to have us staying with her. The baby’s head was not descending well, and at any moment, we were ready for her to go to Theater. At one point, Helen, a midwife, grabbed Paula and the family and Paula prayed over the situation. Although we often are praying for the baby and mom, it is rare when we are able to publicly speak out a pra*yer. After 8 hours of labouring spiritually and physically, Melisa and Helen delivered a lovely boy. The family was peeking their heads into the labour room and started singing and dancing. It was such a beautiful site. The mama was singing along until the midwives hushed her and told her to rest, “G*od knows you are grateful”. She stayed silent but raised her hands and praised the Lo*rd. They especially love babies here in Cameroon. It is so special to be a part of, the families are always saying “thank you plenty” when you come out with the baby swaddled and hand it to them.
Okay guys, just a little piece of life here…Bless you all. I am missing Washington state this week. Oh and don’t worry, I watched the presidential inauguration. Can I just say that Cameroon may love Obama more than the US? It is a common site to see Obama’s face or name on homemade shirts, hats and watches, yes watches. I was telling a Cameroonian about a doctor at a different hospital that had a picture of the “first family” on his watch, she replied by shoving her arm in my face and saying “like this?” While we were watching the TV and I was explaining who everyone was, what they did, etc. everyone on my team was wondering, “Why don’t you sound like these people? They have such a strong accent.” It’s official, I don’t sound American anymore.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
this week was.
The labour room was especially slow this week. A word had been spoken about spying and taking the land and we felt to practically take that into our hands yesterday when there were no women labouring. We split into pairs and went pra*yer walking.
Anna and I wandered past the female surgical ward and noticed a ch*urch-like building. We asked a boy nearby what it was and he said “that is the mortuary ch*urch”. I had never heard of such a thing. Curious like a couple cats, we wandered down and found out it was from the Lyons Club of the USA. Hahaha. People apparently have funerals there after the bodies are embalmed. To the left and separated from the hospital was the morgue itself. We were fortunate enough to be invited in to see what was happening in the morgue. It looked a little different than “My Girl”.
Our pra*yer walking continued by meeting several hospital staff, being scared by a foot-long lizard running across our path, breaking strongholds we were sensing, trying not to interrupt people’s “private” showers and greeting the patients scattered across the property. I have learned that pra*yer walking is just as much about reaching out and loving as it is pra*ying. I think Anna and I would have missed a lot if we had kept our heads down and talked to G*od.
Towards the end of it all, a woman called out to us near the gynaecology ward. We responded and walked closer to understand her Pidgin. She was a warm woman and we did our best to communicate. My pidgin stops after “We for work here-o” but I can grab the context if someone continues to speak to me, the problem is I look like a deer in headlights when it is my turn to respond. She ended up taking me by the hand after a conversation about where we live and bringing me into the ward. Her sister was curled up and moaning under piles of covers. Anna and I offered to pr*ay after we guessed a diagnosis (which was wrong). I fully sensed the peace of G*od after we pr*ayed over Marcella. Her other sister picked up my hand after I finished praying and said something about her having a wound. I told her it was okay and that I didn’t need to see it. Before I was understood I was staring at some awful bedsores, quickly my eyes were directed to a three inch deep puddle of urine that was immersing her thigh. I had seen an order for a urinary catheter but she obvisouly didn’t have it in. We encouraged the sister to “Ask, seek and knock” to get the nurses attention. She responded, “and the door will be opened”.
After we cleaned Marcella up we regrouped and shared about this lovely family who doesn’t understand how to care for their sick sister and the medical staff isn’t helping matters. We took Paula, our leader back and prepared to insert the catheter ourselves. Before we made it to the bed, there was a Dr. whom we had connected with the day before over a patient who had miscarried. We had been able to share about compassion and felt like his heart began to soften. He was happy to see us there and invited us to come in whenever the ward was slow...open doors! He assisted Paula as she installed the catheter and invited us to see a Pulmonary Tap in the bed next to our new-found friend.
It was an incredible experience yesterday. I was so happy to see Marcella get the attention she needed and to teach the family about how to care for bedsores and how the Dr. is learning compassion extends beyond our “daily duties”…and all of it starting from a pr*ayer walk. Praise the L*ord.
Anna and I wandered past the female surgical ward and noticed a ch*urch-like building. We asked a boy nearby what it was and he said “that is the mortuary ch*urch”. I had never heard of such a thing. Curious like a couple cats, we wandered down and found out it was from the Lyons Club of the USA. Hahaha. People apparently have funerals there after the bodies are embalmed. To the left and separated from the hospital was the morgue itself. We were fortunate enough to be invited in to see what was happening in the morgue. It looked a little different than “My Girl”.
Our pra*yer walking continued by meeting several hospital staff, being scared by a foot-long lizard running across our path, breaking strongholds we were sensing, trying not to interrupt people’s “private” showers and greeting the patients scattered across the property. I have learned that pra*yer walking is just as much about reaching out and loving as it is pra*ying. I think Anna and I would have missed a lot if we had kept our heads down and talked to G*od.
Towards the end of it all, a woman called out to us near the gynaecology ward. We responded and walked closer to understand her Pidgin. She was a warm woman and we did our best to communicate. My pidgin stops after “We for work here-o” but I can grab the context if someone continues to speak to me, the problem is I look like a deer in headlights when it is my turn to respond. She ended up taking me by the hand after a conversation about where we live and bringing me into the ward. Her sister was curled up and moaning under piles of covers. Anna and I offered to pr*ay after we guessed a diagnosis (which was wrong). I fully sensed the peace of G*od after we pr*ayed over Marcella. Her other sister picked up my hand after I finished praying and said something about her having a wound. I told her it was okay and that I didn’t need to see it. Before I was understood I was staring at some awful bedsores, quickly my eyes were directed to a three inch deep puddle of urine that was immersing her thigh. I had seen an order for a urinary catheter but she obvisouly didn’t have it in. We encouraged the sister to “Ask, seek and knock” to get the nurses attention. She responded, “and the door will be opened”.
After we cleaned Marcella up we regrouped and shared about this lovely family who doesn’t understand how to care for their sick sister and the medical staff isn’t helping matters. We took Paula, our leader back and prepared to insert the catheter ourselves. Before we made it to the bed, there was a Dr. whom we had connected with the day before over a patient who had miscarried. We had been able to share about compassion and felt like his heart began to soften. He was happy to see us there and invited us to come in whenever the ward was slow...open doors! He assisted Paula as she installed the catheter and invited us to see a Pulmonary Tap in the bed next to our new-found friend.
It was an incredible experience yesterday. I was so happy to see Marcella get the attention she needed and to teach the family about how to care for bedsores and how the Dr. is learning compassion extends beyond our “daily duties”…and all of it starting from a pr*ayer walk. Praise the L*ord.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
oh blogger...
Today I was called "white woman" for the first time. Usually it is just "white man" or "white". I stopped in my tracks. I think that was what he wanted me to do anyway. He had a very lovely collection of yellow-cube soaps and non-antiperspirant deodorant, none of which I purchased.
We have been collecting data by interviewing the mothers of Cameroon and feel like slowly we are grasping one straw at a time what kind of culture we are living in. One of my favourite responses to the question "Is there anything you should know when you become pregnant?" is: "Do not stand in front of a door, a baby may come and change it's mind and then go back inside." Another one in the running is "A woman who is pregnant should not rest her head on her fist for too long (see Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite during the photo shoot with Deb.) for the baby will be born that way if she does."
Jean, the base leader has given us a wealth of information as we speak with him about the experiences at the hospital. He shared yesterday about the inferiority complex that exists because of slavery. When Cameroonians see white people they feel inclined to respect and greet us but within our superiority lies their inability to trust us. This made me examine all the women we have been spending time with and how they feel towards us "truly". I have to believe that there is the possibility for us to alter this complex in at least a few women while I am here. Melisa shared "Maybe initially they feel inferior, but when the pain comes, and we are rubbing their waist and catching their projectile puke, they have to at least have a glimpse of who we truly are."
And so I have reached the conclusion that this city, this country, this continent, this world, we need the love of Je*sus. Without it we have a record of rights and wrongs and we will miss the beauty of whole groups of people.
We have been collecting data by interviewing the mothers of Cameroon and feel like slowly we are grasping one straw at a time what kind of culture we are living in. One of my favourite responses to the question "Is there anything you should know when you become pregnant?" is: "Do not stand in front of a door, a baby may come and change it's mind and then go back inside." Another one in the running is "A woman who is pregnant should not rest her head on her fist for too long (see Uncle Rico in Napoleon Dynamite during the photo shoot with Deb.) for the baby will be born that way if she does."
Jean, the base leader has given us a wealth of information as we speak with him about the experiences at the hospital. He shared yesterday about the inferiority complex that exists because of slavery. When Cameroonians see white people they feel inclined to respect and greet us but within our superiority lies their inability to trust us. This made me examine all the women we have been spending time with and how they feel towards us "truly". I have to believe that there is the possibility for us to alter this complex in at least a few women while I am here. Melisa shared "Maybe initially they feel inferior, but when the pain comes, and we are rubbing their waist and catching their projectile puke, they have to at least have a glimpse of who we truly are."
And so I have reached the conclusion that this city, this country, this continent, this world, we need the love of Je*sus. Without it we have a record of rights and wrongs and we will miss the beauty of whole groups of people.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
thimbly bimbles
Hi Everyone…
December has come to a close and January was there to open a beautiful new year. On the evening of the 31st our two new staff, Paula and Hollie arrived along with our seventh student, Sarah (we were having a shortage of Sarahs). Becca and I met them by running along their bus and greeted them with an embrace. We spent the evening reconnecting and hearing what had been apart of everyone’s lives for the past three months. Paula has been busy serving in accommodations at the base, Hollie and her boyfriend were engaged last week (!) and Sarah completed her Psychology degree in November. The rest of us shared stories of adventures in Indonesia and our joy to have completed the applied lecture phase. Most of our travelers were ready for bed for the new year came in but the troopers stayed up and brought in 2009 with “Charade”, an Audrey Hepburn movie, it might be the last time I watch that one. After the Haring family went to bed, Connie, Sarah and I anxiously awaited one last person. Connie and Sindre were engaged last December before Sindre left for Perth, where he met up with his team to go to China for two years. Connie visited him before the BAS began. In 2008 she saw him for nine days. Finally at four am, the three of us heard the gate rattle and watched as they hugged for the first time. I cried. They have been so obedient and it was a joyful night for Sarah and I to watch them hug. There have been many tearful nights of them being separated…it felt so worth it when we saw them making eye contact for the first time. On the Fourth of July they will marry in Norway, Connie is completely American at heart.
As for the weeks leading up to our night of reunion, it has been challenging. Melisa and I have been joking that the word “flexible” has never meant this much “going with the flow” in our lives. From our two weeks travel time to the adjusting here, we all have had to battle for the curtains that have been hung.
Personally, I have been completely blessed as we all sing together, reflect and joke around. Yesterday, we had a “handing over” from Becca, Rachel and Sarah to Hollie and Paula. We would hug the leaders and then were sent over to the other leaders. I was ready to be blindfolded and tossed into the new leaders arms and I was among the minority. Afterwards, the three leaders had time to pack their bags and the rest of us spent time getting to know one another’s learning styles and our hospital expectations. I loved hearing the excitement in our new leader’s voices, completely refreshing, so eager to enter the hospital. There is wisdom that lies deep in their questions and experiences that build expectation for the next five months.
The three were set to go at nine pm last night. We had our final communion together. Rachel received the word to read from Nehemiah where a new law is in place and the people weep, but Nehemiah tells them to go and enjoy, “the joy of the Lo*rd is your strength”. She shared that tonight was to be like this, “yes, it is out of context, but there are changes in place, let the joy of the Lo*rd be your strength.” We closed by praying and sobbing over our leaders and soon they left through the abyss of darkness that lies outside the compound. The quiet awaited us inside. We stood and cried in one of those awkward hugging positions that seem to comfort you the most when you need to be embraced. The silence was broken after who knows how long by, “Chris is staring at us”. Becca left a picture of her comrade lover as the gatekeeper of our room.
I remember how Steve said, “When one person enter or leaves a community, it changes the whole community”. Today is our day off; we just finished our first meal without people who have been a part of our lives for the past six months. I have felt optimistic and excited for the past week about the change and I think I still am. In the moment though as I sit on my bunk, I feel melancholy, I am grieving the changes. It is through suffering that fulfillment comes. I am hopeful for the time to come. The joy of the Lo*rd is my strength today.
December has come to a close and January was there to open a beautiful new year. On the evening of the 31st our two new staff, Paula and Hollie arrived along with our seventh student, Sarah (we were having a shortage of Sarahs). Becca and I met them by running along their bus and greeted them with an embrace. We spent the evening reconnecting and hearing what had been apart of everyone’s lives for the past three months. Paula has been busy serving in accommodations at the base, Hollie and her boyfriend were engaged last week (!) and Sarah completed her Psychology degree in November. The rest of us shared stories of adventures in Indonesia and our joy to have completed the applied lecture phase. Most of our travelers were ready for bed for the new year came in but the troopers stayed up and brought in 2009 with “Charade”, an Audrey Hepburn movie, it might be the last time I watch that one. After the Haring family went to bed, Connie, Sarah and I anxiously awaited one last person. Connie and Sindre were engaged last December before Sindre left for Perth, where he met up with his team to go to China for two years. Connie visited him before the BAS began. In 2008 she saw him for nine days. Finally at four am, the three of us heard the gate rattle and watched as they hugged for the first time. I cried. They have been so obedient and it was a joyful night for Sarah and I to watch them hug. There have been many tearful nights of them being separated…it felt so worth it when we saw them making eye contact for the first time. On the Fourth of July they will marry in Norway, Connie is completely American at heart.
As for the weeks leading up to our night of reunion, it has been challenging. Melisa and I have been joking that the word “flexible” has never meant this much “going with the flow” in our lives. From our two weeks travel time to the adjusting here, we all have had to battle for the curtains that have been hung.
Personally, I have been completely blessed as we all sing together, reflect and joke around. Yesterday, we had a “handing over” from Becca, Rachel and Sarah to Hollie and Paula. We would hug the leaders and then were sent over to the other leaders. I was ready to be blindfolded and tossed into the new leaders arms and I was among the minority. Afterwards, the three leaders had time to pack their bags and the rest of us spent time getting to know one another’s learning styles and our hospital expectations. I loved hearing the excitement in our new leader’s voices, completely refreshing, so eager to enter the hospital. There is wisdom that lies deep in their questions and experiences that build expectation for the next five months.
The three were set to go at nine pm last night. We had our final communion together. Rachel received the word to read from Nehemiah where a new law is in place and the people weep, but Nehemiah tells them to go and enjoy, “the joy of the Lo*rd is your strength”. She shared that tonight was to be like this, “yes, it is out of context, but there are changes in place, let the joy of the Lo*rd be your strength.” We closed by praying and sobbing over our leaders and soon they left through the abyss of darkness that lies outside the compound. The quiet awaited us inside. We stood and cried in one of those awkward hugging positions that seem to comfort you the most when you need to be embraced. The silence was broken after who knows how long by, “Chris is staring at us”. Becca left a picture of her comrade lover as the gatekeeper of our room.
I remember how Steve said, “When one person enter or leaves a community, it changes the whole community”. Today is our day off; we just finished our first meal without people who have been a part of our lives for the past six months. I have felt optimistic and excited for the past week about the change and I think I still am. In the moment though as I sit on my bunk, I feel melancholy, I am grieving the changes. It is through suffering that fulfillment comes. I am hopeful for the time to come. The joy of the Lo*rd is my strength today.
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