This past week, I returned from a 10 day trip to Honduras, with Global Health Outreach (GHO).  What a trip, with so many good memories. We were a group of unrelated people, and by the end of 10 days, it seemed like everyone was one big family.  It is not often that sort of thing happens on a short mission trip.  What a beautiful country, and although the work was difficult, we stayed at almost luxurious settings at El Sembrador, in Catacamas, Honduras.  That is a boys home and school that was established in Honduras way back in the 50s by the work of a farm family from Ohio.  Quite a story.  Here are some of the pictures from that time

Here I am with several of the children at La Libertad, a village out in the middle of the mountains.  The journey there was quite winding, and up and down.  Not a journey for the fainthearted

Scenery that seemed to be in every direction.  This photo was taken by Kristen Fischetti,

 

Another of Kristen’s gorgeous photos.  How can 2 people take pictures of the same thing, and yet have such different results?

The chapel at El Sembrador.  

Here is David Sim, after a long day of dentistry, and his beautiful daughter, Andrea.  She was able to relate very well to our translators, all of them about 14 years old.

 

Here is Jamie Duck, a physician’s assistant from Ohio.                                              Jeanette Cooper, an RN who works in Dr. David Byler’s office

 

This happens to be the (no) tread of the tire on the bus that we rode.  I think if 

you have to choose between brakes or tires on those roads, i would choose brakes

 

How can one family have so many good looking people?  One of the families I treated in El Sembrador.

Another photo of Andrea                                                                                          And here is David again, with Dr. David Byler, the leader of our group.

Joe and Kristen Fischetti–studying their Spanish New Testament.  She is the photographer

Fernando Ascencio, a dentist as well, who was a great addition to our team, since he had such a heart for the people, and spoke impeccable Spanish

Luigi, our inimitable pharmacist.  What a heart for the Lord!

A house call to see this disabled 21 year old.                  Another interaction with a patient, although I can’t see what I have in my hand

Here is not the best picture of Jewel, David’s very capable wife, and David again                                 Jim Weber, a great friend who was translating and logistics

Our home away from home, the conference center at El Sembrador

Many stories that came out of that time.  I need to catalog all of that.  I hope and pray that the work we did will continue to bear fruit.  Although the medical work was important, the most important is that at least 11 people came to know the Lord during the week, and many rededications as well to the Lord

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This past week, I participated in a seminar in Alabama prisons sponsored by the WE CARE prison organization.  It was called Renew Hope, and it truly was a great week.  I got to meet a lot of very dedicated Christians from all denominations and backgrounds, both in and out of prison.  Sunday, we spent a day in Montgomery, AL. in orientation for the week ahead.  Since the theme was Renew Hope, they asked people to speak who had found a reason to hope in the midst of some defining moment of choosing hope.  They asked me to speak of the experience our family had in losing Dawn.  So before I give a report on the week, I will give here a copy of my talk that day…

Here it is in its unedited form..

Woodpeckers don’t care. Woodpeckers don’t care that the dead limb in which they built their nest in was caused by a lightning strike at our home almost 4 years ago. They don’t care that in one instant, that same lightning strike killed my wife, Dawn, and turned my world upside down. They don’t care that our family has had to struggle on without the one who held us together as a family, the one whose love was freely given to all that knew her. They only know that this limb is dead, and that it is a nice safe place for them to raise a family of nestlings.   Many times, over the past 3 ½ years, I too have wished for that same kind of security, a safe haven to return to, a place of rest.

The morning of Monday, July 6th, 2009 was similar to most mornings. My wife Dawn had gotten up at 5:30 to go walking in the park with a friend, something she did Monday through Friday on a regular basis. We had just been reunited 3 days before, after she had spent a delightful week with her parents in Mississippi. As I recall, that was the very first time that she had done that in our married life, visiting her parents for a week without me, and enjoying time back in her parents home. I had carelessly made the remark to her when she came back that I don’t do very well as a bachelor, as I had spent the time that week alone. The children had all gone to various activities as well that week before. Our 2nd daughter Amber was in Thailand, with a Campus Outreach mission for the summer, Son Stephen and other daughter Kristin were at a camp in Mississippi helping out on staff, and oldest son Robert was in Montgomery with a summer mission project as well. After getting back to the house, we drank our coffee together, as we did most mornings, and talked, and had our devotions together. Nothing much different than usual. Before leaving for work, I had checked the radar, and noticed to my relief that there was a line of thunderstorms heading our direction, which would be welcome, as we had not had rain in 6 weeks or so.

After making my rounds at the hospital, I thought about driving my vehicle to the office across the street, but the weather was not at that point threatening, and so I walked across the parking lot and began my morning work. About 15 minutes after getting in the office, there was a loud crack of thunder, and the electricity in the office flickered, but did not go out.  My feeling was of annoyance, then, because I thought we would lose the internet, but it kept functioning. About 20 minutes later, one of my office personnel came to me, and said that Stephen had called and told me to go to the ER, that it was an emergency. There was an urgency to the office worker’s voice that made me immediately sprint across the short distance to the ER, not noticing the light rain drops that were now falling. 30 seconds later, a blaring car horn at the ER entrance shattered the peace and tranquility that had characterized my life until then. Our son, Stephen, who had returned from camp that weekend, was driving a strange car and a friend from church was in the back seat and a lady I did not recognize was slumped in the front seat. I did not recognize her because her long hair was covering her face, and she was blue.   “Who is it?” I said, thinking they had found someone along the road in distress. When Stephen said, “It’s Mom”, it seemed as if my world immediately exploded around me. The next 2 days were a blur;  2 days of praying, 2 days of hoping, but the resuscitation efforts of the doctors allowed for no meaningful response, and she was pronounced dead 2 days later.  My beautiful wife became a organ donor for kidneys and liver, but she was with us no more.  in some ways, I remember a lot, but I also don’t remember a lot of the details of that difficult time.

Friends from church and the community rallied around us as a family, and I will be forever grateful for that. Without God, and without the support and caring of so many people, the hopelessness would have been overwhelming. No matter what your story is, and i’m convinced we all have a story, the grief process is so full of ups and downs. There are many things stick out in my memory as the healing process began. I do know that for many days in a row, I had tears, often and without warning. In fact, for a while, I despaired that I would ever be able to speak in public again, as no matter what I was trying to say, tears would come…but God was healing me little by little, nevertheless.

My journal writing that year reflected much of the inner turmoil that was in my heart, more than I ever remembered. , When I re-read my journal last year, I noticed that I had a lot of times of grief that I often questioned God. God, why couldn’t you move the lightning 30 feet one way or another? (He could have). Could she not have gone out to take the trash 1 minute later?  (Sure) Why not ? Why me?
But after a while, my questions changed..becoming, what now?  Where to from here?

I started reading my Bible with renewed vigor and intensity..   A Jewish rabbi once said to his disciples, “If you study the Torah, it will put the scripture on your hearts.” When one of his students asked, “Why on our hearts, and not in them?” he replied, “Only God can put them inside. Reading the sacred texts will put it on your hearts, and then when your hearts break, the holy words will fall inside.” I did find that to be true. The scripture came alive to me in a way that it never had before. The stories of the patriarchs, and Psalms particularly, but really all Scriptures became especially meaningful. I remember many times that God spoke to me, not in an audible voice, but through his word in a new and fresh way. One Psalm that stands out is Psalm 62 to me. v. 1 “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.”  And lamentation 3:33  ”For he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.”    One of things I sensed almost from the beginning is that God has a purpose, and he is carrying that out.  And his plan is so much bigger than our finite minds can see.  When we can see the end as well as the beginning, it becomes much easier to say, aha, now I see what was happening.  There are many examples in the bible, except that now we have the advantage of looking both ways.  For example, see Ruth, whose world was rocked by famine, the death of her husband, her mother-in-law moving away.  But now we say, I can see what God was doing.

While restoring my soul during those troubled times, a very important part of the process was a two week mission trip to Nicaragua in 2010, about 6 months after the tragedy.  There, I found that the story that I had to tell made me much more sensitive to the people that I was ministering to, and I also found that it was fulfilling to serve God as a single person as well.  So out of that whole process has come something very beautiful. I have developed a desire, not to see that my story is told, but that God’s story  be told.  It would to take too long to tell of the miraculous ways God has worked since that time, to allow me to continue serving, to serve more in missions in the past 3 years then ever. I praise God for the opportunity to serve on the mission field in Africa for the last 3 ½ months of 2012.  There, in a land where death is a frequent visitor, I was able in telling my story to spread the hope that I have in a God;  how has seen me through the difficulties, and is a God who cares, who grieves, who is PRESENT.

 
The words of this song were sung at Dawn’s funeral, and I leave you with them:

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

I had wanted to blog about Paula, a little girl that I learned to know in Guinea Bissau before now, but for some reason, never really got around to it.  Today, I got the devastating news that Paula died last week.  I have been crying off and on ever since as everything I hear reminds me of her.  Paula was a 2 year old who took a liking to me, which she did to a lot of people, as she was a very friendly child.   I had treated her on more than one occasion in the clinic, and at her house.  Paula was born with a congenital heart condition called pulmonic artery stenosis, a serious condition that prevents the lungs from getting enough blood, particularly when she exerted herself.  She has been scheduled for heart surgery in Portugal for quite some time, but it kept get putting off for one reason or another for most of the past 4 months.  When the other kids were running around, and playing, Paula often squatted down on her haunches, because that was a way that she had learned would force more blood through the lungs that were already starved for blood to oxygenate.  And yet she had survived a couple of low spots during my time there, and actually was in the hospital for a number of weeks in the past 3 months.  Yet she seemed to be doing better in the past couple of months, and I thought she would be able to live a normal life after surgery.  It was not to be.  She never did go for the surgery, for any number of reasons.

As I said, Paula liked me, and liked for me to hold her.  I often held her in church or at her house, and she seemed to relax in my arms.  She was like that after the first time I had seen her in the clinic, when she seemed to realize that we were trying to help her out.  I often got medicine for her, as she was on a couple of heart pills.  Here are a couple of pictures of Paula…the first is a picture of me holding her at a festa that celebrated the end of the futbol season.  The other photo is of her and her mother, Kunsa, and myself close to the end of our time there in Guinea Bissau.  One of the last times I saw her, she had come all the way down to our other mission house.  That was a formidable distance for someone who had a bad heart, about 1/3 of a mile.  She spent a long time at our house, and she was being a bit mischievous that day, and wouldn’t listen that well to me. I never realized that in less than a month, she would be gone.  Sometimes the things that don’t make sense to us are part of a much bigger picture, and God is working in that picture.  So, maybe this will be the catalyst to bring Paula’s family to God.  I don’t know if any of them are Christians now, but I am trusting God for that to change soon.  But today, I cry, and grieve, and wonder at the bond between us.  I grieve for her parents, Augusto and Kunsa, and the rest of the extended family.  They will continue to be in my prayers…

Paula and I at the festival.

l

 

Kunsa, Paula’s mother, and Paula and me again

 

 

But one thing I know, is that Paula is experiencing much more joy right now than she ever had in her short life down here on earth.  And we will meet again some day, and I have a feeling she will “neni” into my arms.  Kiriol has a word neni, which does not have an equivalent in English.  It means ‘to run and greet’.  The father of the prodigal son, when he saw his son a long way off “neni” his son.  And I will do the same for her… I suspect…And as many of you have the opportunity, neni someone close to you, and rejoice that you have a longer time with them…..

 

 

 

 

It is fun to have a festa in Guinea Bissau.  It happens after funerals, or weddings, or sometimes just to celebrate the championship game of the futbol season.  So Chad and I, both leaving in December, decided to have a festa as a bit of a blessing and celebration for our friends and the Mission Compound.  The initial task involved finding a goat of suitable quality for such a festa, and that was not easy.  My friend Ebraima volunteered to look for a goat for me, and do the negotiating in price, so that we wouldn’t have to pay the “branku” (white man) price.  Well, he found several suitable goats out in the neighboring village of Sedengal, about 10 miles away.  So several days before the festa, we hopped aboard a car, and went there to look.  On the way, I remembered to my dismay that I had forgotten the extra cash that I was bringing, so I only had 25,000 cfa with which to buy a goat.  So the question was this–could we negotiate the price down that far?  We went on a trail about 1 1/2 miles from Sedengal, and found a suitable goat there.  It had a limp that concerned me, but otherwise was a very nice goat.  It immediately became obvious that Ebraima was going to use all of his powers in negotiating, as he was saying that we needed this goat for ceremonies and also that we did not have much money….My Kiriol was not good enough to contradict him, so I kept quiet.  Despite the sob story, he could only succeed in getting the price down to 28,000 cfa–56 dollars, which was an improvement from the intial price of 40,000.  However, I did not have enough money, or rather, Ebraima did not have enough, since I had given him the money so that it would be more authentic that he was buying the goat.  I think the guy was pretty sharp however, and saw through our subterfuge…so it became obvious we would need more money than I had.  So we told him to have the goat out by the main road by 5 pm, and we would bring the rest of the money, and pick it up.

 

Here is my friend Ebraima, posing with me

So we went all the way home, rested for an hour, and then headed back to pick it up.  We got there by 5 pm, and surprise, there was no goat by the side of the road…or person for that matter.  So, there was nothing to do but to walk down that same path again, 1 1/2 miles to get the goat.  Well, the goat was there, but the fellow who sold it was out in the matu working.  So we sat and waited, and waited, while the ladies there fed us some delicious roasted peanuts. Finally, after 6 pm, the fellow got back to the house.  I was concerned, because it was getting dark, and there is a possibilty that you would not be able to get a car that late…But we paid the rest of the money, and took goat on a leash back out to the road.  By the time we got there, it was dusk, and a car was not a sure thing.  But finally one came along, and it was packed out.  They had room for the goat on top of the car (I say car, because we call them that, but they are really vans used to carry literally everything, people, animals, produce, whatever), but there was absolutely no room in the car for 2 more people.  However, it was probably our last hope so we hopped on the bumper, and held on as we went down the bumpy road back to Catel. (Africans often ride back there, but I had never seen a branku there before.)  It was fun, and it was not too cold, and we delivered the goat to Ebraima’s house in fine shape.  We still had a few days until the festa, and we didn’t want it eating Adrianne’s garden at our house!

For the cooking at the festa, I enlisted the help of Mai and Aminata, 2 sisters who go to church.  We told them to cook everything just as they would normally, and not to make it “toned down” just for us..so here is what happened

 

Adrianne killed the goat, although I missed that process.  Here Pete and Ebraima are skinning it

 

Here is the large kettle cooking the goat meat.

Cleaning the insides, or tripa.  There was nothing wasted in this goat.  The only parts thrown away are the gallbladder and the trachea and the hooves.

 

The ladies doing the cooking.

 

The pot over the open fire with goat inside

Well, I should update just a bit.  Today is the day before Christmas, and I am back in AL.  It was good to see a lot of my friends yesterday in church, and it was a reminder of how long I had been gone.  I had no real issues on the trip home, with all the flights leaving on time except the last one.  Sean Fitzgerald picked me up at the airport and I was able to give him another suitcase of his things from Guinea Bissau.  Then I went to my parents home, for a couple of nights, and then drove them in their car down here to AL for the Christmas Holidays.  It was great to see everyone, and although the time that I had been gone did not compare to some of the other times that I have been gone, it seemed the reunion was a bit sweeter…So it is great to see all the children, and to see the new baby bump that DIL Michelle is sporting!  I did post some pictures online, on Picasa web albums, so if you would like to view photos, you may check this out…

https://plus.google.com/photos/101410363747604056143/albums/5825488465344675873?authkey=CPfQ8ZDpp_S15wE

 

I plan to update later with some more stories, maybe after Christmas, so that will have to do for now.  To my friends in GB, hello, and Merry Christmas…You keep the faith, and continue to trust in God…

It is hard to believe that there are only a few short days left here in GB, and then I will be heading back home.  Chad Kilheffer and I will be leaving GB on December 16th, and taking the ferry to Dakar, and then both flying out late the 17th and for me the 18th.  I arrive back in Harrisburg on the 18th as well, since we gain time flying west.  Chad was involved in one of the latest medical episodes.  I feel a little like this is Trapper John, MD, or some other medical show, since I always have a medical story.  But that is what you get here with me.  Saturday, December 1st was a day like many of the recent days, cloudy and cooler.  I saw the usual stragglers on a Saturday morning that do not realize that there is no clinic, and then I fried fish for lunch for the crowd that was here.  I had a lot of help with that, as Josephine fried french fries, and Lia had some rice balls that were also fried.  The rice balls tasted as much like hush puppies as you can get her and it reminded me of Davids Catfish, back in Atmore, where most of the good foods are fried.  A different meal for us, but one that was very enjoyable.   So everything was normal, until the late afternoon.  One of our neighbors was expecting twins, and the first child was born without the lady having a lot of pain around 2 pm in the afternoon.  But she then stopped having any pains, and so they called me.  I am not quite sure yet what all I am allowed to do here, but she gave me permission to check her.  Her bag of water for the second baby was bulging, but I really couldn’t tell about the presenting body part.  I ruptured her bag of water thinking it would help her go on into labor, but nothing much happened.  We decided she should go to the nearby hospital, and called the doctor there to tell him we were bringing her.  So we loaded her along with the living twin and another lady in the Peugot, with Chad as the driver. It was Chad up front driving, the lady with the undelivered twin in the front passenger seat, and the other lady and I on the floor in the back of the car. On the way, the lady in labor had to urinate, and she just asked the lady in the back for a container.  We asked her if she wanted to stop, but no, she   tried to go while the car was still going.  So we kept going, but I don’t think much happened, anyway.  So we made it to the hospital okay, and had a bit of trouble finding the doctor.  It turned out, he wasn’t there but was at a rather large party nearby.  Although he never came, I think the decision was made to transfer her on to Bissau.  It turned out that the baby was breech, and they ended up turning the baby before delivery, so it all ended well.  I think God directed all that.  She was exactly where she needed to be at the time.  She arrived back in town the next day, and Chad and I heard through the grapevine that they are going to name the 2 boys Chad and Jon!  Oh well, it is better than a lot of the names around here.  It is common to name children bad names so that evil spirits won’t want to bother them.  For the example, the other day, we had two men visiting our house whose literal translations of their names meant Poor man, and Death.  So, maybe our names are better than that.

On the Friday before the above story, after clinic in the morning, we were getting ready to eat, and Meghan and Kati came running up to our house with white faces, and said that Steve Jablonski (the new PA here)had been burning the trash in the pit, when something exploded and that he was badly burned.  I grabbed a bike and raced over there to find Steve with Pam trying to cool him down, a more difficult process when there is nothing but water, and no ice.   He was burned on the R arm, the R face, and also both legs.  Initially, I was thinking the worst, but most of his wounds were 1st and 2nd degree.  The right arm was the worst burned, and of course, 1st and 2nd degree burns are by far the most painful, so I was glad that I still had a few strong painkillers in our repertoire here in GB.  With the skillful work of Meghan and Pam, they were able to dress everything with Silvadene and wrappings, but 6 days later, he is still not able to work due to the sloughing off of the skin, and the pain with the stretching of the joints.  He is doing better, and we are hoping by next week that he can start again in the clinic.  I think it was an answer to prayer that he was not hurt worse.  We never did find out what exploded, but think maybe it was something from the shed, as there were some men cleaning out in preparation for the cashew operation that is starting up this week. God is gracious to protect his eyes and other vital organs, as they could have been damaged with the explosion.  

I now have a Balanta name.  I am not sure who decided it, but mine is Pansal, with the emphasis on the last syllable, and spelled phonetically.  It literally means, the house/it is finished, but not in a good way.  It means that everyone is dying off, and that only a few are left…?  So Pansal it is, and I respond to that or whatever else you want to call me.

Yesterday, we were glad to welcome Troy Landis, EMM representative, who will be here for instruction for the YES team and also speaking at church.  It was great to see him again, as he was one of the ones in orientation who helped a lot, and that everyone had gotten close to.  So, yes, there are comings and goings….so Chad and I are planning to celebrate our going with a festa, a party.  Unlike most of our meals here, where we can safely say that there were no large animals hurt in the making of this meal, we are having real meat….we think.  A kabra (goat) somewhere in Catel is going to die, and hopefully, a few chickens or two.  So, if anyone is around, join us on Saturday, the 15th for real Guinea Bissau treat.  We will say, Bin kome, which means come eat, as we do whenever anyone is there to assist with eating our meal……

There are many untold stories here….and so those will have to wait until later.  Thank you all for praying, and look forward to seeing a good number of you in the next several months….God bless….until next blog..

Hard to believe that there is a holiday called Thanksgiving back in America.  We will celebrate by eating, I think, 3 chickens for 18 people on Thursday!   That will be a meat overload for my stomach, but it probably won’t hurt for one day.   Meanwhile, the clinic will go on as usual, as there is no equivalent holiday in Guinea Bissau.  It do know that living here makes me thankful for many things, but the things that I think of include intangibles, like family, and friends, and a God who loves me and cares for me, so much that he sent his only Son to die for me.  That is good news, let me tell you.  And if you want to think of other more tangible things, my mind in Africa is thankful for clean water to drink, for even squat toilets, for fly swatters, or moska mata, as i call them here.   I am thankful for friends who value time with friends more than money, and even the sharing of very poor neighbors who always invite me to come and eat….and share their meager fare.  I am thankful for the joy I see in African children who push around a tire rim by using a stick and think it is the greatest fun in the world.  Yes, there is much to be thankful for but most of it doesn’t involve possessions, does it?  

I just left Kristin at the Ziguinchor airport.  It was sad to see her go after a good two weeks.  This past weekend, we went to Bissau, the capital city, with a friend, Sabino, from church.  It was an exercise in flexibility, but very enjoyable.   We stayed in his house, and met most of his very extended family.  There were a lot of activities, but most of it was just enjoying being with an african family, and enjoying their food and fellowship.  The only thing is that we konked out at 10 pm, and everyone else seemed to be going strong at midnight still.  And then Kristin and I slept in the same bed for the first time in years!  She said I snore, but not as bad as some people.   I think that is a compliment.  We also slept with a pig, one that Sabino had brought with him.  He was kept in the house, and so his snufflings could have been what Kristin heard!  In the morning, I unlatched the door to go out and take my shower, which was essentially open air, before everyone got up, and before it was too light!  I forgot the pig, as he seemed to be docile.  He however saw the open door, and decided to make a break for it.  I realized that unless I did something fast, he was going to be loose in the big city of Bissau and never come back.  So a flying leap that would have made a linebacker proud, and I snared him.  His protests of the rude treatment woke everyone up, so there went the private shower…

I know that most of you would love to have more pics, and I would love it as well, but am afraid with the Internet that I have, it will need to wait.  I will have to post those later.  Thanks to everyone who tries to keep up here…I am learning a lot, and hope to continue that for the next 4 weeks, so that I can finish well.  God bless….

 

 

     November 2 dawned bright and clear, and there is change in the air.  The air is less humid, and the wind is blowing briskly out of the north, for the first time since I have been in Guinea Bissau.  These are signs of the change from the rainy season to the dry season.  Guinea Bissau will get very little rain until next May.    There is also a lot of change here on the mission.   Tonight marks my last night staying at the Kasa di Forester, as Beryl’s house is called.  Tomorrow, I will move down to the mission house where the YES team and the rest of the missionaries live.  Beryl’s house will be used to house Steve and Pam Jablonski, the PA and nurse who are coming to replace Terriann, as well as their daughter Kati, and another nurse Magan.  We are looking forward to breaking in the new workers as soon as possible, because our local nurse, Tening is going back to school next week.  So the medical call can be shared a bit now.

   Last night, November 1, the children in the village went from house to house asking for treats, and singing songs.  The celebration seems to be better than our Halloween, as there is no dressing up, and the songs they sing speak of Ave Maria, so I suspect it is a Catholic celebration .  I understand that it goes on for 4 nights.  Another difference was that it is only children going from house to house, as there is no need for adults to accompany in this safe environment. I was unprepared last night, but that means I need to buy some candy or treats or something for this evening, my one more night alone in the house…

   Also, this next week, daughter Kristin is coming to visit.  I am very much looking forward to her visit, and I think it is coming at a good time, as we could use the extra help while she is here.  She is flying to Ziginchoir, which is in Senegal, about 30 miles away from here.  Since she won’t get there until 4:30 pm, we will have to spend the night in Ziginchoir so that she can get a visa the next day for Guinea Bissau.  Senegal is primarily French, so I don’t look forward to negotiating all that in French, but will feel much more comfortable when I get back to Guinea Bissau.  The advantage is that I hope to get a motel where maybe internet will be a bit more favorable and maybe get caught up a little with some of my work there…

    Today, I take my last lesson in Kiriol.  I have enjoyed the lessons, but think that it is time for me to learn on my own, and I hope to continue that.  I try to read the children next door stories every day in Kiriol, and that helps with the language, as well.

      Well, what else is happening here?  Wednesday, they came from the capital Bissau, to inspect our clinic for certification.  Just like in the states some times, it did not go all that well.  They had a lot of things that they want changed in the clinic, and some of them seem rather superfluous.  One of the things that they want changed is the nice tin ceiling in the clinic, which keeps bugs and other things from dropping down into a sterile field.  They said it is too hot.   I was here during the hottest month, October, and there was never a time that I thought it was hot in there?  So go figure.  They want a fabric or thatched ceiling.  As we say in America, “Let sleeping dogs lie”, or in Kiriol, “Kacur durmi bu ka pudi manzi”.  They want more entrances, more rooms than the specifications call for, and more bathrooms, so I am not sure we will get certified….and to top it off, they may not think we are operating legally right now…so change is the buzzword. 

    On the medical front, we had a child come in through the back door screaming last week and here she had spilled boiling water on her abdomen.  It was the middle of a very hectic day, and people were everywhere.  We rushed her in and dressed the wound as best we can.  I told her to come back in 2 days, but here when she came back, it was obvious to me that it was more than just a blistered abdomen, but that it was a 3^rd degree burn.  I suggested to them to go to the hospital to get a skin graft but they refused.  So we have been treating it on a few days basis, and it still looks bad.  But she is having less pain, and eating okay, and so what do you do?  We will continue to see her back regularly.

   The mission house is blessed with a small sancu, or monkey.  One of the guys (Joe) thought it would be a good idea to have one and bought it, but now he is gone to a neighboring village for the next 8 months. So he has to be taken care of and given food and water.  He is sort of a baby, as he cries a lot.  His name is Mama, which is a name here, but also means breast, and breast feeding, so I am not sure of the significance there.  But if anyone wants “percolated monkey meat”, I think I may be able to help!

     God bless those of you who are sticking with this blog.  I think I tend to repeat myself, due to not always being able to post.  And forgive the typing errors—the program I am using is responsible, I am just saying…Remember the work that is here, and the people who continue to need love and help in a dark place…..

  

   

 

     

It is 5 o’clock, and the alarm is ringing….Wait, it is Saturday morning and my alarm shouldn’t be going off.  Oh, a phone call from Terriann.  Tanu’s wife, Fatimata is having labor pains almost 6 weeks early, and could I come and check things out.  We have been worried about her pregnancy, because her blood pressure has been dangerously high for most of the past month, even though this is her 5^th pregnancy.  She did get some medicine about 3 weeks ago,but it is still not a good thing, a little late to affect 9 months of pregnancy.  She doesn’t live far from our place, so I went to her house.  She was obviously in a lot of pain, and it was apparent that she was in labor.  I did not know exactly my function, since normally the female relatives help with this, and male attendants are unheard of in this country.  But, just in case, I went back to get our 1 OB set up with cord clamps, a scissors, and suction bulb.  I was gone about 5 minutes, but by the time I got back, there was a baby lying on the floor, still attached by the cord, but with no signs of life.  It was a male, perfectly formed, but with evidence of the skin deteriorating, suggesting that the baby had been dead in the uterus for a day or so.  I made a few feeble efforts to do cardiac compressions, and suctioned the baby, and stimulated it, but it didn’t work.  There was no response to any of the stimulus, and I ceased all efforts.  I made an effort to cut the cord, but the mother refused to let me.  Apparently,when they deliver, they leave the cord attached until the placenta comes out.  So, that was fine with me, and since it was obvious that my services were no longer needed, I went out on the veranda to wait with the father, Tanu.  I did not talk to him about what was going on inside, as I did not know the protocol.  After a while, the ladies came out and told the father.  This time,there was no weeping or wailing. Apparently, this is quite a bit different than when a living person dies.  So after sitting there for a period of time, I came on back to the house. By now, it was 6 am, and it was too late to go back to bed, so I put the coffee pot on, and started the day. 

    Later, in an effort to clear out the cobwebs, I started on a long run.  I had wanted to run to the neighboring village of Jendi, but the last time I tried, it was too far, and I never made it.  So, with breakfast out of the way, the chickens fed and watered, and with the house safely locked up, I started out.  This village is a fishing village right on the river Cacheu.  The day was overcast, providing relief from the African sun, and there were birds galore.  There were no other houses on the path at all.  Only an occasional person walking along the trail, going to our town, or a couple of people working in the matu, or fields.  I ran past some impressive fields of peanuts, one of which I would estimate was close to 8 acres.  Pretty impressive for hand tilling and planting, and it looked ready for harvest. There were impressive parakeets, long and sleek, that flew away in flocks,as I ran past. I was thinking that I need to pinch myself to really make sure that I really am in Africa.  It hurt, so I guess I am.  The village of Jendi was farther than I had been told, and seemed to take forever in getting there.I wasn’t even sure I was on the right path, as it really wasn’t more than a foot path. Finally, I made it…no tin roof houses here, all thatched roofs. I decided to come back to explore the town later, and decided to turn around. A good run, and a good way to clear the cobwebs out of the head, after an early start to the day. 

    I took a little nap after lunch, and feel back to normal now. Blogging is impossible right now, as the internet has been out for the past week down here.  I may have to go to the neighboring town to put this on.  I really need to include some pictures as well. The first part of this blog was written on Saturday, October 20, and itis now October 24^th, and this will probably not be sent for a couple of days.

   If I get a chance, I will include some pictures from the baby dedication for Tenig’s new baby(He is the native nurse at the clinic).   He was 8 days old at the time of his dedication, and there was a little ceremony associated with that, and of course a festa, or party associated.  Some of the pictures are of me eating at the festa, and until I caught on, I was eating with the wrong hand, the left…Oh well, a faux pas that shouldn’t be repeated….

    The team of YES guys will be leaving this week to go to the neighboring town of Cabiu.  This is about 25 miles away, I think, so there coming back and forth will be limited. When they move, Beryl and I will also be moving down to the mission house, to make room for the new family, and workers coming the first of November.  Also, I am really looking forward to the arrival of daughter Kristin, a week later.  She will be here almost 2 weeks, a good introduction to Guinea Bissau.  I think she will find it quite similar in culture to Sierra Leone, although a different language base.  The same tribes live here that also lived in Sierra Leone. And of course, a big difference is that we are in the country, while shewas in the city.  Balanta, Jola,Mandinka, and Manjako are some of the main tribes and languages spoken in this area.  (I am not sure of spelling).  Most also speak Kiriol, the language of trade, which is corrupted Portuguese.  I am far from fluent, but am surprised that I can make my way around quite well in the country, and getting better at knowing everything someone is needing.  There are multiple night time visitors, which always start, “Kon, Kon” there version of knock, knock.  That is the signal that someone is at thegate wanting something, and late at night, it is usually someone needing medical attention.  Since the gate is right by my room, I am usually the one who hears and attends to the needs. 

    I have felt myself getting irritated a couple of times in the past couple of days with the constant needs, but then I realize that is exactly why I came here, so I try to do my job with the joy of the Lord in my heart.  The work itself is not all that hard, as sometimes we are finished with clinic by 10:30 or 11 in the morning on light days.  The rest of the time, it is walkins only, and some days are busier than others.   The other night, a man who apparently has been going downhill for 3-4 months, at least by history, came about 10 o’clock.  Suddenly, I had about 7 family members in the courtyard as well, and when I checked him, he didn’t seem to be all that sick.  Often the number of bystanders is inversely proportional to the degree of sickness, at least in my experience.  His complaint was dizziness and vomiting, and it had just started…, and I was wondering if alcohol could have contributed to his sudden deterioration. That is just like the ER back in Alabama,that someone who has been drinking suddenly thinks they are about to die, so you just don’t know.  I gave him some meds, and today, he was back in the clinic, wanting something else, and looking as fit as a fiddle.  So I suspect the news of his illness has been greatly exaggerated, as Mark Twain might say…

    Yesterday, I had the excitement of accompanying 3 other members of the group, as we journeyed to the capital of Bissau, where we met with one of the Ministers of Health, in an attempt to get the clinic certified under government regulation.  It took about 3 ½ hours to get there by big bus, and I had to stand most of the journey. I started out in a seat, but what do you do when there are ladies with a baby on their back standing right beside you. I couldn’t help but give them my seat. The monotony of the trip was broken up by the need to stop at 5 government check points and walk past armed guards. This was both on the way and on the way back. There was some unrest in the capital last week, and because of that, they had stepped up monitoring.  When we got there to the checkpoint, we had to exit the bus, and walk about 200 yards up to where the bus came and picked us back up.  I say, stepped up, sort of lightly, because at most of the checkpoints, they did not stop many people at all.  As an American, I got to show my passport a couple of times, but mostly I tried to walk with crowd, sort of hard if you are “branku”, a white person.  I realized that it was mostly a formality, so a couple of times when I was told to go stand in a line to get checked out, I left after waiting a reasonable period of time and joined all the other travelers who didn’t have to do that,and that was just fine.  The advantage of the certification is to make us more legal, and also there would be the possibility of qualifying for medication from the National pharmacy, which would take some of the guesswork out of supplying the medical needs of the clinic.  It often depends on someone in America guessing what we need, and sometimes the decisions are not very accurate.  For example, I brought a lot of Lice treatments, and when I got here, I realized too late (I already knew this too)that Africans very seldom get head lice….So you live and learn.  It is quite common to see scabies, but the shampoo is not strong enough to treat that…

   Well, I will sign off with my ramblings…Tomorrow, I may get to go and use the Internet in the neighboring town…we will see anyways.  Thanks to all of you for making it through this prolonged stream of consciousness,,,

    

  

  

   

     

Two families in the village have had deaths in the family in the past 2 days.  Both of the deaths were in the capital city of Bissau, but the funerals and the mourning were held here in Catel. Both houses were only a few houses away from us, so we got to hear the full crying and mourning that goes on.  They bury the person the first day, usually without a casket.  They dig up the veranda that surrounds each house to keep out the rains and water, and that is where they put them.  It is easy to tell when someone dies, because of the unearthly sing song wailing that begins.  It is almost like a song, but think of a song with notes impossibly high, at times, and then other times a lower voice.  I think this is almost exclusively the women who do this, but it goes on for hours, so much so that you wonder how much the human voice can take.  The whole community gathers in respect at the house, but there it is mostly everyone just gathered around in solemn grief, around the house.   

I stood, silent, in the hot African sun, as sweat poured down the small of my back and the front of my shirt, and thought about that death, whether in Africa, or elsewhere, is triste, or sad.  And the funerals in Africa must be a lot more similar to the funerals of the Bible than ours.  I just thought about the time that Jesus stepped into a funeral procession like that and healed the dead person.   And the way everyone gathers, I realized that Jesus msissing the funeral of Lazarus in the Bible was a rather significant event..a lot more significant than we think in our culture.  Because, here, everyone stops whatever they were planning to do, and it will be stopped for a couple of days or even longer until normalcy is resumed.  

 Yesterdays funeral was for a 26 year old man who is a brother to one of the younger leaders in the church.  So even though I did not know him, I felt that I should go there.  Today, they will probably kill a cow, and feed everyone, and more or less have a celebration, but the main event was yesterday.  But I was awakened this am at 6 by the crying, and sing song voice.  Did it go on all night=–I donºt know, but it was there this am.

As far as how things are going in general? I am enjoying myself.  I have gotten into the routine, and now feel comfortable treating a patient without an interpreter.  However, sometimes in spite of my excellent –ahem–Kiriol, it seems like I have a difficult time getting my point across.  And so then, I have to call for help.  Sometimes, the same words said by someone who speaks Kiriol really well seem to carry more weight.  And then there was the day 2 days ago.  Tenigs wife had her baby, so he wasnºt working, and Terriann left the clinic to check on the baby, so I was there by myself.  Then, as sometimes happens, another person shows up at the clinic, Domingus, who felt called upon to translate for me.  However, his translation did not do much good, as he was only repeating the same words in Kiriol that they had just said.  I understood most of them anyway, but with him translating, it did slow down the process.  He is a bit slower, one the special persons that God puts in our path.  I could add a lot more to that, but I think that I have said enough.  I think all of us have them, and they are truly one of the least of these, so let us not shove them aside.