Training for a Lifetime

In a paradise land of rolling hills with luscious green vegetation and rich terracotta soils there is a formidable killer. This is a place where overwhelming volumes of deaths occur daily. Tragically, children are the most vulnerable in the high mortality rate.

This is Sierra Leone, with a population of 4.7 million, primarily threatened by hopelessly poor sanitation and medical facilities combined with lack of basic hygiene knowledge. The most common cause of death will take your breath away; diarrhea as a result of swallowing harmful bacteria.  These bacteria are often associated with poor sanitation so maintaining good hygiene and nutrition is key in protecting lives.

This is especially important in consideration of the limited medical facilities available. In accordance with the World Health Organization there are only five main hospitals with a handful of satellite hospitals in the towns supported by twelve district hospitals in the provinces.

The realities of these statistics have become increasingly evident during many of the previous Mercy Ships missions.  There have been numerous occasions when medical crew often extended their roles to provide basic healthcare advice to patients. In a floating hospital ship relying on professional volunteers, every second counts to bring hope and healing to the West African nations, therefore it was quickly recognised that health education was a valuable need. So the Health Education Program, designed for patients was created as an Off Ship Program co-ordinated by Becca Taylor.

The aim of the program is to take a preventative approach to sickness by understanding hygiene, nutrition as well as diagnosing and treating common ailments and diseases.  Typically, the range of topics includes hygiene, nutrition, causes / treatment of diarrhoea, basic first aid, malaria prevention and common diseases such as measles.

In light of the minimal and often desperately poor medical facilities available in Sierra Leone, this basic health education offers a lifeline especially for the little children whose chances of survival are currently one in five.

The hospitality unit at The Hope Centre providing pre and post-patient care is the chosen location for the training. At The Hope Centre, the patients are often not immediately aware of the importance of the training. This is likely to be contributed to the relaxed safe environment resembling a home. They usually attend motivated by curiosity or the strength of their relationship with the Trainer. It is therefore the training format which is critical to keep them engaged and focused.  

For instance, in one training session, the use of the shower rooms demonstrated how to use the water to wash their bodies and clothes as well as advice about hygienic toilet training for the small children. This training was presented in the shower facility; aided by pictures on the wall and fun props such as a brightly coloured shower cap (an item not widely available locally).

All the training consists of basic information relayed through informal presentations, demonstrations and activities. It is the practical element that is critical for their involvement as this will teach them skills to implement at home. The first consideration is to bring fun and laughter in an interactive approach with the patients so they will be motivated to listen and learn to the simple clear messages provided by the Trainer.

In the session covering cleaning hands, the concept of germs and transferring germs through dirty hands needed to be communicated.  The method chosen was presenting clear colourful images on card supported by another presenter with hands dipped in flour touching objects and shaking the patients’ hands. This two-fold approach was chosen to communicate the concept of transferring germs.  The doughy white powdered handprints were a visual illustration of transferring germs if people forget to wash their hands.  Creative visual demonstrations are an effective tool to communicate concepts as many of the patients have little or no experience of structured learning.

The presentation closed with a demonstration of the hand actions required to wash all the germs away accompanied by a hearty rendition of the renowned “Tenki Papa God” (Thanks you Father God) song.  Bringing music into the sessions brings the patients together as a community as well as foot-tapping and clapping to the harmonised melodies lifting their hearts and minds.

 

Then the fun escalated as the practical activity began. The patients were required to wet their hands, plunge their hands into a large bowl of flour before touring the garden to leave white handprints on coloured paper on various items. After the tour they queued at the garden tap to give their hands a good scrub with soap to remove the half dried sticky flour mixture singing a 20 second verse of the Tenki Papa God  song.

This activity closed with a group photo of arm waving, laughing patients.

 This was a success in the positive communication and interactions between the patients which will aid their memories to remember the often valuable messages in the training. If the patients learn the health knowledge and practical application to take home then they can prevent or minimise sickness and contribute towards saving lives of their loved ones.



Getting their hands dirty! Some of the training team joined in the washing hands activity (from the left, Photographer,Debra Bell, and Translator, Bassey Akpan)



Petals of Opportunity: Chapter One

She is a beautiful girl with a tranquil nature. Her quietness has a delicacy of an exquisite flower. It is rare to find such beauty and elegance in a young girl. She is Musa Sharif.

Her endearing humble spirit and genuine modesty are qualities distinctly prevalent on first impression.   It is easy to conclude these qualities have been cultivated from a sheltered life surrounded by love. This is only true in her distant past. Her fairy-tale childhood was shattered.  She now lives a daily nightmare in a disturbing reality.  

Upon her arrival at the ship Musa was vulnerable and terrified

Musa is an outcast. Every day she struggles with social exclusion defined in the endless bouts of bullying and provocation. These desperate circumstances were generated from an innocent accident in her early infant years.

Since birth, her home has been in Kotobo, a large town, in the outskirts of Bo, Sierra Leone.  There she lives with her mother, four brothers and four sisters. Prior to the accident she already endured a tragic loss when her father died. This left her mother to solely provide for the whole family. Fortunately for Musa, from an early age, she had formed close bonds with her brothers and sisters who protected her until the disastrous event occurred.

This happened on a typical day. Her mother, with the older siblings, applied themselves to their daily chores as usual.  It was clear and bright so Musa and her brother wandered into the bush. As they played in the searing heat of the day a stick suddenly fell from a tree.  Her brother said “it came out from nowhere and hit her eye.”  It had struck Musa directly in her left eye. 

The inevitable happened. Her eye became acutely inflamed and sore. They had no money to visit a clinic to seek medical advice. It was a pressing challenge just to provide a daily meal for the family.

With poor nutrition and polluted water the severity of the wound escalated over time. A swelling developed behind her eye which steadily grew over time pushing her eyeball out of its socket.  It was this protruding eye that caused distress and grief leading her into an isolated existence.

Musa is now eight years old. She has never been to school nor been educated. She has no friends. Yet in her desolate life there is a faint hope that the future may change. It is this hope that feeds her inner strength. The evidence of this is apparent in the early morning when she sings traditional African songs to life her heart whilst everyone is asleep. 

Then one day she was taken by her family to stay with one of her brothers who had moved to Freetown. Her brother was studying at College. He took Musa to be screened at Mercy Ships.  She was admitted as a patient on board the Africa Mercy.

She was now no longer just isolated but alone and terrified of the alien surroundings. For the first few days she sat silently in her hospital bed with her eyes cast downwards and never uttering a single sound.

Over the next few weeks Mercy Ships crew embraced her with loving kindness. Even her brother joined in to gently and affectionately nurse her broken soul.  However, her surgery was delayed because the cat-scan machine had broken.  The scan was required to provide the details for the surgery.

Despite this Musa started to emerge from her silence. Firstly she raised her head high enough to glance around the ward. The Mercy Ships crew encouraged her curiosity and looked into her eyes when chatting to her. She was startled and bewildered.  It had been so long since anyone had accepted her and talked directly to her.  She started to murmur single replies.

Over time the crew discovered she had a life dream to go to school. So they provided colourful crayons, took her hand in theirs and wrote her name. Her capacity for learning is phenomenal. After only the first time she copied her name with no assistance.

This was the moment there was a breakthrough. A radiant smile lit up her face. In her shyness she kept glancing down but unable to contain her joy she repeatedly looked up beaming to the whole ward. This is when she realised her faint intangible hope to be healed was actually happening.



During her stay on the ship Musa emerged from her silent cocoon and

achieved one of her dreams; to write her own name. Her smile was priceless.



Then the idyllic bubble burst. It was taking some time to mend the cat-scan machine so Musa was sent home with her brother to wait. Her dream world had ended. Distraught and quivering with fear Musa left the ship unknowing what the future held for her. Would she return to be healed?

Mamadu Madieu Jalloh

Wide eyed little Mamadu only knew a life of fear. Apart from his close family, his only friend was a toy motor car.  He would play with this toy for endless hours every day. It took him into his own make believe world where no-one called him unforgiving names or kicked dust in his face.  At the tender age of fifteen months his future looked bleak.

Mariama, his mother, had met her husband in a village and soon they settled and had their first son. Initially it was a contented family with his father fortunate to have a relatively stable job as a butcher whilst his mother was a housewife looking after the baby.  Their second son Mamadu was born but his birth would change their comfortable happy routines into a daily struggle.

Born with a cleft lip he had been rejected by society.  They were not kind to physical imperfections especially a facial disorder that was impossible to hide. His safety could easily be jeopardised by a few distracted moments so his mother watched over him at all times.



Mamadu’s life had been traumatized

by fear and sadness before he arrived

at Mercy Ships for cleft lip treatment.



One day, they received news that could change the course of Mamadu’s future forever.  An uncle told Mariama about a children’s clinic in Aberdeen, Freetown. It was a long journey taking several days but Mariama seized the opportunity and took Mamadu to the clinic. The doctor examined Mamadu before relaying disappointing news that they were unable to treat the condition.

Mariama tried to conceal her sadness as her world began to crumble. She knew this had been Mamadu’s only hope to receive treatment. However, the doctor then smiled and handed her a leaflet telling her that Mercy Ships can heal this condition and the ship had arrived in Freetown.

Mamadu was accepted for treatment at the Mercy Ships screening day. Within a few weeks Mamadu received treatment from the world class medical teams aboard the Africa Mercy. This ship is unique in that all the crew are professional volunteers from around the globe taking part in the Mercy Ships West African mission to walk in the footsteps of Jesus to heal the forgotten poor.



After surgery, Mamadu was reflective and quiet as the

 smile began to form with each day of healing.



Mamadu’s Muslim family discovered a greater depth of happiness during Mamadu’s treatment by Mercy Ships than they had ever experienced before.   When it was time to go home Mariama said she can now plan to send Mamadu to school so that he will one day become a doctor.  As they left the Outpatients room a beaming Mariama said “I am very happy. There no longer daily stress. I am so thankful to Mercy Ships for what they have done.”



The once fearful little boy was happy and relaxed when he prepared to return home with a beautiful smile.



Dancing into friendships

Alone. Her parents abandoned her as a tiny fragile baby. A child with bow legs was feared as being cursed by evil spirits. So, she had barely lived in the world for a month when they considered raising this child too great a burden. They fled in the night leaving her on a doorstep. Simply a doorstep.  A new little life, neglected; waiting for the terrors of the night to devour her.

Yet, in this heart-breaking event, there were angels to guard and protect her. There was a plan for this beautiful life. The next morning her Grandmotherhad become aware of the horrors of that night and hurried to her rescue. Shewas saved. Mariama Feika’s life was beginning.



Raising a granddaughter in Africa presented severe hardships.

Yet, this courageous lady confronted each challenge with admirable strength striving to give her a bright future.  Mariama needed this strong belief in her future to survive. There were mounting daily frustrations. It was becoming an exhausting struggle for her Grandmother to work so hard, good nutrition was difficult to find for merely a few pennies, and the torments towards Mariama’s physical condition continued to escalate.

However, as she grew into a little girl, Mariama fought for the flicker of hope her Grandmother believed in.  Her feisty nature emerged which has given her the determination to survive the traumas she has suffered. Despite the daily battles, a strong bond grew uniting them.

This is evident when her Grandmother fondly remembers the times she held little Mariama’s hand so she could stroll to the mosque with Mariama skipping beside her. Then came a time when she chose to send her to a Christian school which offered the best education. This was a grave sacrifice. She graciously opened the door for Mariama to enter into another religion “…in support of the best learning opportunities for her future”, she smiles reminiscently.

At four years old Mariama embraced Christianity with her heart. Her daily strife was relieved in joyous bursts of gospel songs and flamboyant African dance. Where some children would have retreated this little girl had solid determination supported by a walk of faith. She believed whole-heartedly that God would heal her legs. It was just a small matter of timing.



Mariama and her Grandmother’s
close bond was displayed during
their stay on the Africa Mercy.



Then one day her Grandmother heard a radio jingle announcing Mercy Ships had arrived in Sierra Leone. At the screening Mariama received an overwhelming offer for treatment. There had never been such a whirl of excitement in their simple home as they prepared for the trip.

A few days later they boarded the ship. Her Grandmother was suddenly wrapped in anguish. Mariama felt a wave of vulnerability wash over her for the first time in her young life.  “It’s just a matter of walking through the storm” her Grandmother recalls.   However, there was no storm awaiting instead, they were greeted by a room of smiling nurses who immediately swept them into their reassuring compassionate world.

Mariama made an immediate impression. With her burgundy twisted hair in a pineapple ponytail she was known to mischievously peep out from behind the hospital beds. For the first time her charismatic spark disguised her determined fiery attitude.

Mariama’s mischievous ways return after the heavy casts are removed from her legs

Her world was a wonderful place before the surgery. Nobody tormented her. She was free to revel in this new happiness.

After the surgery the pain set in. Every day became tougher as the pain increased. Her legs were encased in thick casts restricting every movement. Her Grandmother feared she would never walk again which cast a new shadow of sadness on their existing troubles back at home. Mariama fought this as she knew how. She was consumed by anger hitting out at all those caring for her.

The kindness and compassion surrounding her continued. As the pain subsided, her anger dissipated.  Below her feisty persona there was an abundance of love ready to shine when her life’s troubles were momentarily forgotten. 

Surrounded by caring compassion Mariama discovers
happiness aboard the hospital ship

 As this love stirred up inside her heart she began to sing her favourite gospel songs. With great delight the ward joyfully joined in. The music flowed through her like water and then the beats began to catch her heart and her body erupted into rhythmic African moves.  In these moments her heavily cast legs were no longer a burden.

 

Mariama receives a wonderful surprise
gift of new shoes for school

It encouraged her to practise walking. Soon the casts were removed and she was preparing to return home. Then sadness cast over them once more. As Mariama’s health had been restored her feet had grown. She had no shoes. Without shoes she was unable to go to school. On the last night before she went home she received a surprise gift.  A crew member touched by her gospel faith had observed this potential trouble and bought her new pink sandals for school.

Mariama was elated! Her anger was long forgotten and she was ready to tackle the world with love. She had brought new happiness to her Grandmother who smiled “Praise God!”

Mariama’s smile ready to light up the world before returning home

Weekly Journal: 11th - 17th April

I ventured out of the dock gates to The Hope Centre known locally as Obama City. This is an airy colonial style building with terraces stretching out before the sea. The view is a hive of activity during the day, as the fishing boats leave empty returning heavy laden with rice sacks, firewood and fish, until early evening when the sunset caresses the fishing shanty village with a delicate glow.

Previously, outside The Hope Centre, there were well kept allotments harvesting cassava, potato leaves and other African vegetables. However, recently there is a growing trail of destruction as people camp through the night queuing to visit the Mercy Ships dental practice.  However, inside the compound the Hospitality Area is developing into a little resort with a new mobile shower unit and aircon mobile dormitories for patient care pre and post-surgery. The atmosphere is now truly laidback with a buzz of happiness.

There are many precious moments in each visit there. In particular, there is a wonderful new treasured pikin that graced my African journey this week. She is eight year old Finda. As I walked up the steps to the shaded terrace a little girl ran like a bullet and embraced me with a hug that nearly knocked me off my feet. She exuded joyfulness. The sparkle in her eyes was almost magnetic. For some time afterwards I danced and hugged and tickled the happy little impish spirit. She was awaiting surgery for a cleft lip.

Her journey in life has been quite incredible. Her father left the family when she was born due to the embarrassment of her physical deformity. Remarkably he returned after a year due after pressurised persuasion from the grandparents but he has failed to take an interest in her.  The severity of her lip condition led to an existence filled with sadness and tears from the provocation by the school children and neighbours. Despite this her mother kept a flame of hope alight because she believed Finda would be a child of destiny; smiling she says “she has a great personality and if she acquires an education she will be a pillar of strength for the family.”

A radical transformation occurred as Finda entered The Hope Centre. It was a place where there were other children with physical abnormalities and some even had her condition. All these people were being received by smiling caring Mercy Ships crew. Finda and her mother had never experienced an atmosphere of love and companionship which triggered the little miracle that her mother had desperately hoped for since she was born. The sad little drooping flower raised its petals to the sun blossoming for the first time. The emotional nourishment had an incredible effect on Finda. She bounced around beaming and filling everyone she met with smiles for a day.

In a few days it was time for Finda to board the ship for surgery. Despite the tightness and tenderness of her lip after the surgery her smiles still flowed from morning to night. Her confidence soaring she relaxed into her own agenda. She became fond of a baby on the ward and like a duck to water she regularly placed the baby on her back and tied her into a wrap before gently dancing her around the ward. It was so tender to observe a natural maternal flair.

Soon came the time for her to go. I had been practicing writing her name with her so she would have the confidence to return to school. It was another tough farewell. Several times she ran back down the corridor to hang from my hand giggling. I’ll never forget our last embrace.

Another memorable moment happened at The Hope Centre too.  I decided to pop over to visit Namina and Finda (before her surgery) with our translator, Bassey. Before leaving the ship I had a quick thought to take some children’s books for a story time to engage Namina so we could do activities creating praise for her. When we approached the terrace all the chattering mothers smiled and the children glanced up and saw the books and that was it! I was instantly the Pied Piper. Bassey laughed and said “I’m guessing it’s story time for all. Don’t worry I’ll help.”

So when we walked inside all the children had gathered into a small circle ready for the stories. It’s incredible how good they are when they have a treat in store. The adventures of the fish in the sea began with the twinkling sunshine before the thunder and rolling waves in the storm back to the sunshine. There were lots of little hands stretching upwards wiggling fingers frantically in effort to be the most sparkly.  This was followed by Daniel and the Lions Den. I was quite tickled by their soft African lion roars and their angry men faces. Yes they were all adorable and the mothers had crept in unable to contain their curiosity when they heard the shouts of rolling thunder. Another precious time with these little souls.

It was during these visits that I met my new little treasure, Fanie. He is also eight years old  but with crippled legs. From the moment you meet this little man there is an instant comic charm. He is brimming with confidence, spending his time cracking jokes and chattering with all the mothers. Here is a soul who will definitely achieve remarkable things in his life through his character alone.

When I first met him he was leaning on a stick like a shepherd and grinning. This belies the difficult upbringing he suffered.  Two of his nine siblings succumbed to sickness before his father’s passing. However, he is the youngest so one of his elder brothers helps to look after him whilst his mother works planting groundnuts. His mother relishes in her son’s confidence. It is obvious Fanie holds the key to the close connections in his family. 

This week he had surgery on one of his legs. The few days after surgery are swamped with pain as the swollen legs are bandaged in to casts with icepacks to relieve the inflammation. On my visit I was quietly chattering with his mother as he slept and then as I turned to leave he awoke and smiled. Let’s stop for a second. Rewind. All the other children wake in a fits moaning cries from the intense aches and pains in their legs. Yet Fanie awakes with a sweet smile.  This little one will climb Mount Everest!!!!

This week Ce and Roger were struggling to recuperate after their facial tumour removal surgeries. It’s a major surgery with significant blood loss from the face for some time after the end of surgery as well as extensive inflammation. The nurses were becoming slightly concerned that their efforts to encourage movements around the ward were having little effect. Ce in particular lay curled up on his bed often motionless.  Eventually he climbed out of bed and started to take an interest in life again.

This is especially so when the patient life team visited the ward to sing gospel songs. As I walked into the ward I caught Ce dancing in a hip hoppity jumping steps to The Lord is my Shepherd. The rhythm  was enthusiastically set by clapping the beats, and believe me, Africans know how to clap. They certainly don’t need drums to get the rhythms flowing.

Now he was on the mend I decided to organise a surprise treat for him and Roger. I asked various departments to help before returning to The Hope Centre to get my hands on their favourite activity: Draughts. When I walked into the ward with the game tucked under my arm Ce’s face was a picture. First he stared in disbelief and then he grabbed the game with the most mischievous of laughs. I advised him he was to have a tournament with Roger at which he turned and bolted down the corridor to Roger’s ward.  It did cause a dose of confusion in the hospital processes because Ce was due to leave the ship to stay in the Hospitality Area at The Hope Centre however, everyone was stunned by his sudden enthusiasm so it was embraced by all.

The tournament was complex and rapid. However it was Roger who eventually won the winning title to Ce’s momentary dismay however Ce was already organising the next tournament in his head. Bless him.

Some time ago I dared to venture to an African church.  After a short smooth drive on one of the few ‘proper’ roads we drove into the bright orange dust streets of a shanty town in Kissey. Typically all homes are an interesting patchwork of rusted corrugated iron sheets and wood strips or branches with a veranda or terrace imaginatively suggested by water tanks or bold coloured plastic buckets. Then there is the rubbish strewn in piles beside the houses waiting in its rotting state to be burnt.

There is the random odd corner shop with faded worn wooden shutters in blue or cherry red selling an intriguing selection of goods not quite recognisable from the landrover. This terrain is suspicious and reluctant to embrace visitors with a welcome smile. Their poverty is a dense cloud of shame on their lives. A noose around their necks.

A traditional simplistic life, as considered by western perspectives, is not always a life of hopelessness and despair. I’ve discovered and witnessed a contentment and happiness in families living in very basic conditions in Thailand. Here, in Freetown, is desperation wrapped in aggressive hope. The remnants of the war torment their daily thoughts. This is the difference: Poverty driven by war.

Eventually we rocked up (literally, the dust track strewn with rocks) to the local church. A tiny girl toddled up to touch my hand in her stained ripped vest and pants. She was giggling with a bright excited sparkle in her eyes. A touching moment to remember.

The approach to church spoke a thousand words. In this concrete building with no facilities my eyes met a sight I’ll never forget. There is no money. There were a number of rows of plastic chairs and wooden benches with two pillars marking the central aisle. It was hard to see the chairs for the rows of streamers made from string with long colourful twirling balloons tied on. The pillars were adorned with fabric of a flower design, painted by the congregation. The name of the church ‘Word of Life’ was creatively created in old Christmas tinsel of various colours hanging on an old cutain at the front of the church. There could be no better way to lift the spirit in celebration. The contrast to the shanty town it was located in was nothing short of phenomenal.

What was even more amazing is that they used a generator to provide power for the keyboard and microphones. There was never an instance when a word could not be heard or appreciated as it rumbled through the building like an earthquake. I’m not quite sure how many decibels it was but, believe me, I’m sure I may suffer acute deafness if I attended every week. Additionally, the message was also transmitted in a rather thunderous manner ‘ The POWER of the LORD will come to de BODI…!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’  Let’s say it was an interesting experience. It was wonderful that these people were full of praise but even the extraordinarily flat tones were a struggle to digest.  Yet….I love the people.

Finally, some weeks ago, I ventured to The Country Lodge Hotel.  This has been mentioned previously in the absence of any description of this glorious retreat. I’ll anticipate your assumptions and offer a whole-hearted ‘Yes! It is a paradise in comparison to the daily ship life’.  As you are now well informed about the driving and general status quo of the market streets you will appreciate that the trip to this venue is on a hill top avoiding the intense markets and traffic jam frustrations. 

The roads are almost ‘proper’ that curve gracefully up the hill. With each curve there is a little touch more breeze and lush greenery. The road at the top of the hill is an orange dust track that looks a little ominous to be honest and after the final turn there is a momentary dread at the downward gradient followed swiftly by the relief that we have arrived at the destination. 

The hotel pool is long and wonderfully turquoise laced with sun loungers calling you over to lie for a moment. The pleasant breeze is wonderfully relaxing. However the jewel of this resort is the panoramic view of Freetown and the ocean.  Even more enticing is watching the birds circling the city below.  This is where all the challenges of the past weeks are laid to rest. 

It may seem rather dull in crew terms but to those of you at home, in various countries, I’m having a rather glorious day on a deckchair on Deck 7. Due to the workload and illness this week my daily journal writing has been scuppered so I’m giving it a whirl all in one mammoth typing session. I have to say the sea breeze is wonderful as I’m gazing across the ocean waiting for the next moments of inspiration.  I hope you are all having a splendid day too although, admittedly, maybe not quite as splendid as mine J

Weekly Journal: 4th - 10th April

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.



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).



Melinda & Orla

Interestingly, we had a mind tingling discussion about life in Freetown. Beyond the shanty towns it’s a very expensive place to live despite the rarity of decent properties and infrastructure. It is simple. Everything is imported therefore a higher price tag is slapped on top of all the taxes. Fruit, especially mangoes that are in abundance all year round have highly inflated prices which vary according to the colour of your skin. The prices are graded according to the depth of brown pigment in your skin. All frustrating but accepted as a way of life here.

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.