We have arrived!

We have docked in Pointe-Noire! The gangway is down, we have made our formal introductions, and have re-welcomed the advance team. After country briefings, currency exchanges, immigrations, and all the other details that go into brining a big white hospital ship with 300 volunteers into a country we are hoping to be able to at least set our feet on land and walk a bit on the dock tonight. Hopefully our first Congolese adventure will begin tomorrow! More photos and details to come from our journey and arrival ceremony.....its just so great to say, we're alive and in the Congo--let the adventures begin!

A week on the high seas....

We have been sailing across the ocean blue for 8 days now. 8 full days of crashing waves, sitting in hammocks, gazing at ocean life, and star filled nights aboard the Africa Mercy. Deciding to live your life on a ship has it’s perks, and sailing is one of them! In June the sailing from Guinea to the Canary Islands was a different story. I didn’t love the bouncing of the waves, or the cooped up feeling--this sail has been a completely different story. Turns out after a few days you actually get used to the constant feeling of “catching air” and the swaying actually becomes a comforting motion that rocks you to sleep. I’m not exactly sure where we are, and even if I knew I couldn’t tell you for security reasons. But I know this--we are past Guinea-- this is entirely new territory for me and many others aboard. It’s a new experience that we are all embarking upon together. The air is thick with anticipation of what is to come- a whole new ballgame, and one that we can’t wait to start. 

---Somewhere in the next few days we will cross the Equator and the Prime Meridian at the same time--0 degrees latitude and 0 degrees longitude. To most of you (and to me until about 1 week ago) this means nothing......but as I have learned, this is something that very few people will ever do in their life, and for the sailing world it gives you the prestigious title of  “Royal Diamond Shellback”. Currently I am still a “slimy pollywog”, but in the next few days that will change! --> If you don’t believe me google it--I swear it’s the real deal!

---As crazy as life can be on this ship, it’s home. Where else in the world do you fly kites off the back of the ship, watch movies almost every night, lay for hours in a hammock, and have pirate dance parties complete with eye patches, swords, and pirate tattoos?....This life surrounded by friends in the same season doing something you love is simply the best, and no matter how many times you do it, it is still bizarre to look out the window and realize that your home is puttering along down the ocean with only the horizon in sight....

Six weeks

Six Weeks---It seems like a long time, but when it’s all you have to catch up with friends, family, and supporters it feels quite ridiculously short. I was greeted by the best friends in the whole world at the airport, and from that moment on I never stopped moving. Six weeks were broken down to this: a short few days in St. Louis, a week with family on vacation, a week back in St. Louis meeting up with several friends per day, a rainy week with two amazing friends in North Carolina, a weekend at home, a week back in STL, a fantastic weekend with two friends from the ship, one more week roaming about between 4 different cities to see friends and my grandparents, and POOF! Six weeks had flown by and I was spending my birthday with my two best friends, stopping by a few houses for one more hug, dinner with my parents, and finished the night packing my bags to head off on another year long adventure. On the ship looking forward to life at home was something I was holding on to towards the end of the outreach, but to be honest the transition was sort of difficult at first. I roamed about feeling as though my eyes were open like a bugs and I was completely unable to form coherent sentences. What exactly was overwhelming? Everything. Every single thing. Having friends and family so close, driving a car, going for a walk by myself, going out in public and having everyone understand, dogs on leashes, grass, trees, clean streets and cross walks. The list goes on and on, the wonderful US of A was just too much. Simple daily things like ordering a beer were tough- the options were endless and I had spent the last 10 months with three very similar options. Some days I was fine, then there were others, like the day the face-wash aisle at Target got the best of me. After 10 months of cherishing any half used left behind bottle I could find on ship having an entire aisle to choose from was a breaking point. About 3 weeks in to my time at home I got over my shock, and really sank back into life. I LOVE home, I love the people, the places, the sights, the sounds and smells. I love being able to call a great friend to meet up for coffee at the drop of a hat. I love sitting down for long chats with cherished friends and I love the ease of getting around. I loved the speed of internet, the long distance drives to see friends and the convenience of grocery shopping. By the end of my time I wasn’t ready to go. I had finally fit back in and life was looking great! I had found my groove, reconnected with people, and I wasn’t ready to give up the comfort and familiarity again. There were days I just wasn’t sure, and then I would show someone my photos or talk about life on the AFM and realize that it is exactly where I am supposed to be. Home is easy and wonderful, but in Africa I can use my skills to do something I fully believe in. It was hard to go, and I miss everyone already, but I know that this is in my plan and it is my given purpose. Six weeks flew by, and it was a wonderful taste of what I love so much...but for now, it’s back the the Africa Mercy I go........see you next year USA! 

The taxi man...

     This past week was a roller coaster ride, ups and downs and more ups. The week was full to the brim as our time in the hospital came to a close. It has been so amazing seeing this whole service start to finish. When I came to the ship we were unpacking things, putting together charts, praying over the beds that would soon be filled. And now, we do the exact opposite, breaking down charts and taking beds down one by one as their occupants return back to their families and villages, stashing things away until we will need them again in the next country. The patients were condensed down into D ward on Wednesday and the other three wards were broken down and packed away. The majority of our patients left Thursday...... all but one actually.There was one lone patient on the ward Thursday evening, and guess who that man was-- My “T”. He is hands down my very favorite patient of this whole outreach, and he pretty much has been a constant in the ever changing wards. It was really nice to have him around until the very last day--sort of incredible actually. We took him out to dinner Thursday night as a special treat, and on our way back something happened that I want to share with you all.

     As we were walking back, T said that maybe we should walk down this side street instead of the main road. I replied, “It’s okay T, we are champions of this town, we know where we are going”, he laughed and shook his head, but since we were looking for a pair of sunglasses to protect his eye, we ended up walking down a side road after all. As we got closer to the ship, T slowed down near a corner. He began talking to Sam, one of our chaplains who had come to dinner with us. As the two men were talking Sam simply stopped walking, and was just look intently at T as he listened closely, hanging on to every word. Sam then relayed this story to us, it warmed my heart and I think it will touch yours too.

     After we first met T at the big screening day in September, he came to the ship and stayed overnight for a biopsy. The next day he was driven back to the assembly point in the city, and dropped off with all other patients. It was a rainy day, and there were few taxis running. T was feeling weak and pretty empty, it was yet another tough day with a nearly 12 pound tumor crushing his face and airway. As they sat on the curb trying to catch a taxi, not a single one would stop and the ones that slowed would keep going when they saw him. They sat there for quite some time in the rain, and T was feeling pretty low. While they were waiting, a man happened to look out of his home and could tell that T was suffering. He came out and spoke to them, and then promptly stopped the next taxi that drove by. He asked them where they were going, and then asked the taxi driver how much that would cost to rent the car as “private” for their voyage. 50,000 GNF, nearly 8 USD, the driver replied quickly, knowing full and well that it was an unfair price. Without hesitation the man handed over the money without even trying to bargain for a fair rate. He put T and his Mom in the car, wished them well, and sent them on their way. That day he did something that he could have possibly never known the outcome of. He did not know that T would fight the biggest battle of his life and win, he simply saw T and made the conscious decision to better him, without asking for anything in return. In a country where most believe those with tumors to be cursed, this gesture is unheard of. This stranger stepped out of his comfort, looked past his disfiguring tumor, and provided for another human being who was in a desperate place. He gave what he could, very possibly using his own food or rent money to bestow a blessing on a complete stranger. Watching T’s face as he told this story, I know that it was a moment he will never ever forget, a bright spot in his many years of darkness. Every time he comes to the ship, he stops by this corner and shakes the man’s hand who made it possible for him to keep going that day.....As we walked by he was sitting outside, and we were able to shake his hand and thank him for what he did for our friend, our fighter, our beloved T. This is just one of the many things that I have learned here. That you don’t have to be a millionaire, or even have much, but you will always have something, no matter how small, that can change someones life.

Rain.....

The rainy season has begun. Long gone are the dusty dry days under the African sun, and in its place, the humid and muggy afternoons. It has been raining pretty frequently at night for the last 2 weeks, but today as we sat eating dinner we could see the storm clouds coming in across the city. As all ship bound people do, we headed to the top deck to watch the storm roll in. It’s quite the site, so many people standing outside gaping at the sky. It felt so communal and so strikingly familiar, similar to what you would find on front porches of every small town across America. Kids and adults of various nationalities, united to watch the glorious rain. The powerful surges of rain were dancing across the water, and pouncing in the distance. It was one of those moments you could never capture on film, too beautiful for even the finest cameras. We ran around playing for awhile, even turning the top deck into a slip and slide. (which I am unashamed to say was more for the adults than the kids) As this place returns to the rainy season, it too is yet another reminder of all that has happened during our time here. We came to Guinea in the very tail end of the rainy season, and have spent nine months in the lush green that is it’s offspring.  As we prepare to leave this coming weekend the locals are gearing up for another long rainy season to enter. It’s just another tangible reminder that there is a season for everything in life, and for Guinea, this season is full of beautiful rain. 

Full Circle

As we wind down, with only 5 days of surgery left my heart is full. The patients who have become friends are healing and going home. The miracles that we needed have come through, and only a few are left waiting for their turn to finish healing to give them a brand new face to show the world. Old friends are coming back for last minute surgeries before we head out, and so many familiar faces are back. “L” has been back on the wards for a few weeks, and it is amazing to hear his laughter and screams of “Annah”! down the hallways. Just this past week “T” came back in for his last surgery before we leave. This is the surgery he was supposed to have last time to revise the skin on his face and around the eye that was left stretched from the tumor. The results from his biopsies are back, and three of the four tissues we sent were in fact Ameloblastoma. For now, All we can do is pray that we were able to get better margins around the tumors this time and that they won’t return. Until he meets up with the ship again when it returns to a neighboring country we just pray that his tumor does not return. That he can maintain his excellent outlook on life and that he can remain in excellent spirits, and the same loveable “T” that we have been able to spend so much of our time with here in Guinea. As we head into this last week I think we are all reflecting on our time in this beautiful country with these amazing people. We’ve had many heartbreaks, many triumphs, much joy, and above all, so much love. It’s a bittersweet week---knowing how much we have been able to do, but realizing how great the need still is. I just ask that you take a moment to think of us as you go about your week, and just pause to think about the amazing people of Guinea who will always have a piece of my heart. 

My Boys---T and L sporting their eye patches

The Epic Trek

This past weekend was one we have been looking forward to for weeks! With only 3 weeks left of surgery, our time here in Guinea is quickly coming to a close. We planned a trip to Dalaba, roughly 8 hours by taxi upcountry, and where I spent several days between Christmas and New Years. Because of the protests that are happening here in the city, we were cleared to go by the captain with the stipulation that we needed to get out of town by 0630 or we wouldn’t be able to go at all. The deadline of 0630 was put in place because leaving any later would risk us getting stuck in riots that were planned for the day. We talked several times of coming up with a back up plan, but instead persevered and a fantastic friend agreed to come in to work at 545am to let me leave a tad early from my night shift. I handed over my patients, sprinted out to change and grab my pack which I had put together the night before. We made it to the major market and began bargaining for a taxi to get us out of the capital city to the next small town to find a shared taxi to take us upcountry. We bargained, and were jumping in a taxi to head upcountry. Laura set her bag in the backseat keeping her eyes on it, and before we knew it some guy off the street had jumped in, was going through her bag about to pocket some of her cash. Our taxi driver saw him just seconds before we did, and several men had him out of the car, searched, and the money returned before we even knew how to react. Theses two men, Elijah and Erun, refugees from neighboring Sierra Leone--quickly earned our trust. I mean who doesn’t want to essentially hitchhike with two guys who just protected you? We made it to the next town about 1.5 hours out of the city and found out that there weren’t any taxi’s heading upcountry. After spending about half an hour negotiating prices, lots of arguing, chatting in English, French, and Krio, throwing in mangos and a banana to our deal and making them laugh a few times with our ridiculous proposals we all headed off on our adventure. The ride was fairly uneventful, and we picked up a few randoms along the way. My favorite passenger was the man who was heading upcountry to sell firewood and his 6 live and feisty chickens that were promptly shoved into the trunk next to our backpacks like it was nothing out of the ordinary. 

Post night shift riding in a taxi------     

We arrived in Dalaba around 5pm. Hot, tired, very very dusty, and ready to settle in and make our plans for the weekend. We bought dinner off the street and settled outside to eat our first of many meals of avocado and cheese on delicious crusty bread.  

      We met our guide Lamarana the next morning and headed off to market to pick up food before our daylong trek. Here in Africa it is normal to carry things on your head, not on your back. So we really were quite a site hiking through the streets with big ole packs on our backs. Three funny looking fotay’s (white people)

Our walk was gorgeous through the countryside. The topic of many of our conversations  were our patients. How amazing they are, how they persevere through so much, how they have so much stacked against them from day one and how they still come through against all odds. The beautiful hills of Guinea are breathtaking, and it’s easy to place each of our patients in their home environment. Working in the fields, preparing the evening meal, carrying babies on their backs, and selling goods in the market. 

A family we met along the way in front of their hut 

We found a small lost sheep along the way, and took a moment for a snuggle.

                

These guys are known as "thief" sheep because they will steal things straight out of your home. Notice their "collars" and the sticks that they so happily sport that prevent them from entering through doorways.....crafty little guys!

Apparently one of the things the French brought to the “cold” upcountry Guinea was Pine Trees---I don’t think I will ever get over this. A pine tree forest, in West Africa--how odd, right?

Our dirty, dusty feed after day one of trekking

A few ladies who sold us crafts in their village

Spending the night in the village we sat out of the front porch and had a long chat about the world. As we talked, the idea of how we fit in the world came up. This village, on top of a mini-mountain in Guinea has no electricity. It doesn’t having running water, or a toilet. But it exists just fine, it functions off the earth. God gave them everything they need in the trees,bushes, and animals to survive. They don’t have many of the things we in the west would call “necessities” but it’s their normal, they are happy and it works.......

A major conversation of that evening under the stars included the idea that we were “sitting on the edge of the world”. This village has no idea or need to know what is happening in the US right now. If we told them about the bombings in Boston, or some of the headlines on CNN what would they think? If we told someone in the US about the comings and goings of this particular village in Guinea, would they care? The answer is no, probably not. We both share this earth, but have virtually no interaction. We three girls could be the ONLY American’s to ever come through that village. The only three to ever step on that particular soil, the only ones to ever sleep in that house and use that squatty potty. Letting that soak in is kind of life shattering, huh?

Our home for the night

We planned to sleep in hammocks and sleeping bags, but after carrying them roughly 25 miles up and down mini-mountains we found out that it wasn’t exactly an accepted practice to sleep outdoors, particullarly because we were female. So instead, we swept some mouse poo off the bed and slept on top of our hammocks.  

A group of ladies on their way to the market, goods stored on their heads and babies on their backs

On our last kilometer of our trek back to the hotel a motor bike flew by and as we turned around we say someone hop off and start running toward us. It was Alhassane, a patient from the beginning of the outreach. Laura and I knew him, but Lydia became a quick friend to him. He invited us happily to his home, and was so excited that we accepted his offer. He brought us into the compound and through his front door, pulling up chairs and immediately offered us something to drink. It once again put our lives in perspective, Alhassane had literally a desk with his books on it, and a mat on the floor in which he slept, and he was offering us, the rich westerners, something. As we visited he asked about those nurses who were on the ship back in the fall by name. Remembering them, asking how they were settling back into life in their home countries and asking us to greet them.  As our time came to a close we gave him all the sunscreen we had, being Albino is West Africa is not easy. It is literally impossible to buy suncreen here. For those with African skin there is no need for protection, leaving the large population of Albino people scorched from the sun.  

Along the way we may or may not have had a small run in with bed bugs. I was not completely educated in this fastidious little creatures, but Lydia was an expert.  She had self-diagnosed with Laura’s help and upon returning to the ship, the first priority was stripping down, bagging up all of our stuff, showering, and then researching. Now I do not advise looking up bed bugs unless you want the heebie jeebies. It turns out those resilient little guys could essentially survive an atomic bomb and go nearly all of eternity without food.  After devising a plan to wash our clothes at roughly 122 degrees F we realized that our packs were going to be a different story. Apparently it is not advised to wash backpacks at such a high temperature, so our alternative---freeze it. We placed our packs, hammocks, and sleeping backs inside jumbo garbage bags and froze them for about 7days in one of the ships walk in freezers. These bug bites are far worse than being attacked by mosquitos I am fairly certain. A patient even commented on my nickle sized welt marks on my hands and arms! 

On our way back we piled into a shared taxi with 6 other people (because 7 people in one car is normal, right?) The ride back with “Tante” (our new auntie), Binta, the momma with no identification, the driver, and a chicken strapped to the taxi was one speedy and efficient ride. We bought several kilos of delicious mango’s as snacks for less than one dollar. As we sped along the bends and winds in the road, we were just three girls traveling together across the beautiful Guinean landscape. These are the adventures that we will look back on and think about the fun times when we were in our 20’s and living on a ship and serving the people of West Africa.