Diane (Millar) finally hopped down the gangway to the van and whizzed off to the airport. It was a dull and rather sad evening so I called home for Mother’s Day. Mum was delighted. It’s funny how much you miss someone when you hear their voice. Anyhow, it’s best to distract yourself when a gem of a friend leaves. Needless to say the tinge of blues rapidly disappeared the following evening when Jackie (Bailey) and I set our minds to writing a poem.
Sharp witted Diane had a fun and trouper character. She notified us, in her bright jolly manner, that farewells were not something she readily embraces and gave us a letter to read the following day. So I was stunned to the core when I read the most beautiful, poetic letter that penned the depth of true friendship.
In response we resisted the urge to gush our heartfelt thoughts. Instead we took a rare opportunity to catch her off guard by composing an Ode to Diane (to get our own back and hopefully give her a bucket of laughs). This is our poem:
Diane is a beauty at heart,
Though not obvious from the start.
The stealth of a major in impeccable cleaning,
And snorting with an incredible meaning,
Especially hearty bouts in LOST,
Ripping up characters at no cost.
Her humour was dry,
Often jokes went awry.
She took the mundane,
‘sweeting’ and ‘knicks’ brought her fame.
In hilarities that gave us great kicks,
Whilst we stood in line to take her licks.
From this sharp witted soul,
Every show she stole,
With one liners so candidly told.
Her knowledge is so vast in suckling bats,
It dumb-founded us all; we thought they’re flying rats.
Mind you she could take flight with her hair,
Excused by the breezy Freetown air.
She always dressed kitsch never hodge-podge
Especially the chiffon for the Country Lodge.
It was great fun sea bobbing near the shores,
Being fish bait to entice “jaws”.
Though the funniest was beach whaled Al,
At the butt of her laughs despite being her pal.
He was nearly swept away,
Which gave her laughs for a day,
All in good spirit in that friendship way.
Whilst she’s at home, feet in the lap of her lover,
We’re still toiling and sweeting under Deck 3 cover.
Sitting LOST without her here,
Listening to the loo gurgles that we fear,
As a sign ‘the others’ may appear,
Like the TV show we hold so dear.
She is an absolute treasure,
Her value is beyond measure.
She touched the hearts of the Freetown poor,
Blessing them with compassion and so much more.
So we say ‘Bottoms Up’ and ‘Here Here’
To a friend we will always hold dear.
Missing you from the sweet stenches of Ship bathrooms, and the Freetown burning trash air
From us sardined in Deck 3 cabins
Your shipmates
Jackie
&
Claire
X XXXX X
 |
| Diane's Farewell Dinner at the Country Lodge, Hill Station. (Left to right: Xenia Lengert, Me, Bob Russell, Jackie Bailey, Diane Millar) |
I do hope this brought her many a tear in memories and laughter.
Since my current patients were sent up North without my knowledge I found myself on a mission to find some hard-core medical cases for power stories. These are based on the more extreme medical cases which inspire the potential donators to increase their funds. As it happened some patients had arrived from Guinea who were pre-screened by a missionary couple. I know very little, in fact almost nothing, regarding the couple however admiration and respect are ridiculous understatements of the work they do.
In a nutshell, they find the most prolific acute tumour growth victims; support them in their homes and communities until the arrival of a Mercy Ship. They are not the conservative thinking, leaping in evangelical hallelujahs that one might be tempted to stereotype. Their courage in the life they lead is phenomenal. They have diligently learnt the culture and language of the Guinean people reaching out to the desperately ill and needy through friendship rather than intensive preaching some might consider bible bashing.
I witnessed the extraordinary bond he has with patients when they had been admitted into the hospital. There was a teasing banter between them yet in his gentleness there was the greatest degree of compassion I have ever encountered or, to be honest, even knew existed.
These patients were all very defined, curious, characters. My new patient, Ce, was one of these. He was weathered from a life of daily manual labour and I soon discovered he had many ‘labour’ talents. Firstly, he climbs palm trees to pick bunches of fruit. This is done by tying a rope around his waist and shuffling up the trunk like a monkey. Then he boils the fruit before processing red palm oil. His next talent is clearing swamp land. There are no risks, according to Ce. If there’s a snake or a rat he kills it and takes it home to eat. I imagine this protein meal is a rare treat. Finally, he makes mud bricks for contracting work.
Impressive. All the work requires huge quantities of physical strength. Despite this he earns very little money. Some days there is not enough money to buy food to cook for dinner so he has a snack from the street. The doctors report that his vital signs show he is extremely fit. In consideration of his age, bearing in mind the average male life expectancy in West Africa is about 30 years, he is classified as a superhero in my evaluations.
He is an endearing soul; although he is often reluctant to admit his own strengths and weaknesses apart from eating. He loves to eat in huge quantities (so I’m told). Rice and any meat are his favourite meals. It will be a tough ride for him after the operation to remove his face tumour (and mend the broken jaw which occurred after he was chewing on a meat bone). His sole comfort will be absent until the mouth swellings reduce. I have also discovered he fancies himself as master Draughts player so I may tempt him to practice for the tournament with me. No doubt he’ll love it when he wins a million times in 10 minutes.
A new day has dawned. I woke up feeling fabulous. I have a new trick. To avoid another middle of the night disturbance I blindfolded myself with my sun bandana and moulded my ear plugs in place. It was pure bliss. This is combined with the fabulous phone call with my sis. She is rounding up superbly with baby Ezra and really not embracing this reality with a cheerful heart and mind.
Little does she know of in the world I’m living in Africa. The majority of the expectant mothers I’ve seen are slight and often thin with an enormous bump. After they give birth, they are not producing adequate quantities or nutrients in their milk to keep the baby healthy. Most babies and children are significantly below their weight and height for their age. This is from malnutrition due to a shortage of food. Of course this leads to many development issues and conditions in the child.
My sister, be happy to be a radiant, voluptuous expectant Mum. We’ll swim and jog again by the sea when the time comes.
It was generally a marvellous day. I literally bumped into one of my outpatients in the corridor and walked into a beautiful experience. The history is of the mother is that she had been flogged daily by her husband and everyone had rejected her except her mother. This is because her baby had hyper-extended knees so he sat on the backs of his lower legs rather than his bottom. He is the most petite delicate little person. Indeed, inquisitive and deeply soulful in his eyes.
She greeted me with a huge smile and giggle of excitement. She had left her husband, moved in with her mother and even started hairdressing again to start earning some money for food. It’s a courageous decision considering her husband was the sole provider and had supported her keeping the baby when everyone else was tormenting her to kill the baby in the bush. The excitement was contagious and soon the nurses were fluttering around her and the baby sharing tender moments.
Shortly afterwards I was spending time with Namina writing her name. She is still not friends with Dr Todd who valiantly attends to her daily dressing changes. Her communication largely consists of ‘I’ll flog you!” so I’m working on her attitude with many translated explanations that infact Dr Todd is making her face beautiful. She replies that she doesn’t believe it for now. One can only keep trying and time will heal her anger.
Midwifery article drafted and photo selections made with great bursts of hilarity. Unfortunately, in using a brown leather baby doll for the childbirth demonstrations many of the shots have a painstaking resemblance to ermmmmm something naughty. I think Debella referred to the photos as graphically medical so not fit for a public audience! I need to choose final photos tomorrow morning to complete my article.
Somehow this evening, I managed to persuade a Russian seaman to teach me Russian so he can practice his English. Lessons may start next week. This really is a crazy ship life.
Bob the super lightening dentist and Mieke my Brussels room mate are leaving this week. Sad. Sad. Sad. It’s nearing the time to fix November dates for the Brussels cancelled flight reunion.
I wrote my first full patient story with reports it was good but needed to describe the patient’s personality in slightly more depth (he was 1 years old and only in hospital for two days). I’m on track and Texas considers my writing to be generally wonderful. I think you all deserve to drink to that! Cheers! (Mr G.O.D. you can definitely treat yourself to bubbles).
Infact, the truth of the matter is that I had an inspirational experience whilst writing the story. I’ve found a spot on deck 7 which has wooden patio tables in the shade on the starboard side. The view is overlooking the Freetown hills. I sat for a while watching eagles soaring high above the city eyeing their prey before suddenly swooping down to grasp their victims. The effortless soaring is elegant and graceful with gentle waves in a soporific rhythm. As I gaze across the landscape there is a peacefulness and beauty disguising the destruction and desperation lurking in the streets.
Finally, I caught the African sickness bug. It’s not the worst case but had to stay in my cabin for a couple days which was far from joyous. To top it all the Captains announced a water shortage so only showers are to be taken if absolutely necessary (I’m not entirely sure he understands that women and men will interpret this differently. This escalated within 48 hours to another severity level. No showers. Luckily for me I had just taken my under 2 minute shower before the announcement to cut the water supply off was made. Additionally the laundry room remained closed and only plastic crockery and paper plates were used for mealtimes. I was on a mission to find a shower at some point during the weekend.
On Saturday, it was mind over matter. Tummy trouble was persistently lingering so I decided to take some optimistic and positive action. Out came the flower hairbands carefully arranged on top of my bandana and a wonderful lick of waterproof mascara and eyeliner. Yes! We are not living in a village in the bush but in a city and some of the women wear cosmetics. Definitely a minority in the east side but still there are some. The plan was to venture out in a taxi to the craft market for one hour and should there be a sign of rocket tummy then I could jump in a cab back to the ship.
Splendid day! I met a new local friend, Martha, who works in the eye clinic. Xenia, Martha and I visited the indoor craft market. There were few people there and it was quiet and rather beautiful away from the intense dirt and heat of the umbrella street markets. I decided to look for an item of clothing incase the laundry room remained closed for the next week. Martha is a wonderful negotiator. She stands her ground from the start. I think she would make a great lawyer. After a number of ridiculous items flung over my head and clothes I managed to find a lovely two-piece with shells attached that jingle as you walk.
Next we went to a bistro. It had some form of a toilet so I wasn’t too worried. We walked in through an inconspicuous door into a shady courtyard. Chicken and plantains served for lunch. African beats in the background with the local well to do business men chattering about politics. This is definitely one of the few gems of the city.
A surprise visit to the tailor was a treat to round up the afternoon trip. Not before an introduction to the fabric market. This was a deep orange dusty and rather rocky alley full of faded colourful umbrella stores hiding the fabric warehouse shops. The selection is not as diverse as the craft market but a quarter of the price. Orange African print cotton is the fine material for my first African dress. Finally, we popped to the tailor who works in a sky blue hut smaller than a garden shed. Somehow they managed to fit three old fashioned sewing machines on tables in there. I was most impressed. The prices are jaw droppingly cheap. Let’s hope the finished article will be stunning too.
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| Me, Orla and Jenny |
Sunday is pure bliss. I am feeling full of life and top of the world. No more African illness for me. After seven attempts to get a taxi I finally managed to convince one to take us up the hill. We were on our way, my girl Melinda + Cabin friend, to the Country Lodge Hotel to meet my local friend Jenny and her little girl. Initially I doubted we would arrive there with the taxi crawling at 20mph but after an hour, for what is usually a 25minute drive, we did arrive in one piece. It was a fun time. Meeting up with local friends feels like living life rather than bizarre ship experiences which is impossible to relate to normal living on any wavelength (please contain your thoughts about the definition of normal. Believe me, living on a hospital ship is another world away from normal).
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| Melinda & Orla |
As for the driving: Well, that is a law unto itself. No-one has driving lessons or licenses. There are no traffic lights and only three roundabouts in the entire city. There are no road markings as most roads are dust tracks. So, the rule of the road is to pip your horn to indicate you are there and you may be doing something. For deliveries, a lorry stops and blocks the road at any time of day. If there is a five mile traffic jam so be it.
Also there are market stalls across most edge of road spaces and thousands of people. There are few shops in the city so the markets are where everybody has to shop for daily essentials as well as other goods. Can you imagine driving literally through a market street? There are no pavements and open drains so it is a highly skilled task to jump from the roadside into the market stalls amongst a throng of jostling impatient people in gas mark 8 heat…oh, and let’s not forget wading through the trash on the floor. It is beyond crazy. However there are some relatively wider roads with the odd pavement outside the city centre which is a little more sane although there are few shops on these roads.
Sunday chill watching Fracture (an Anthony Hopkins special) with the girls (Xenia and Jackie). Grab your pillow, settle on my bunk with a stash of sweets. Lovely. I’m ready for sleeps.
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