The sun rises over Conakry

The sun is rising over Conakry... The last week has been unusually cool as the Harmattan winds are blowing over west Africa, bringing with them a sky full off dust.
You can actually see the haze in the picture.

Just another day as the sun rises over Conakry from my office window :)

God bless,
Ben

Enough said...

       I suffered a long-overdue breakdown yesterday just before lunch. I decided reluctantly that I did want lunch, so I cleaned up my face, blew my nose, and headed to the dining room, more to find a friendly face than to eat. I sat with Trudi (God bless her!) and, while trying to give the gist of what had upset me, I started tearing up again. When I asked down the table for a napkin, one kind nurse asked what was wrong. "I work in B ward, with the VVF ladies". "Oh, enough said", she replied.
It is a well-known and understood fact amongst those who work in the hospital, and for most on the ship, how very difficult this season of VVF surgeries has been. For those far and wide who I have neglected to communicate with, I will fill you in a bit.
       Vesico vaginal fistula, or VVF, is a result of obstructed labor causing a hole to develop in the bladder, resulting in a a constant leaking of urine after her baby has been delivered (often stillborn). This problem is almost 100% preventable, but too common in West Africa. It ruins women's lives. They can't work, they are often abandoned by husband and family. They live as outcasts, if they have the will to live at all.
       VVF surgeries started on the ship in November. I transferred to B ward to work with the VVF ladies. There was a lot of excitement as exams were done and surgeries commenced. But one by one, most remained wet after surgery. Many were turned away by the first surgeon. "Have her come back for the second surgeon, she has more experience with difficult cases". So they were asked to wait. A good many waited with us on the ward, others at the local hospital. With every set-back, like the women themselves, the nurses clung to the hope that maybe the next surgeon would give a better prognosis. Most of the women here have had unsuccessful repairs locally. Subsequent repairs create scar tissue, increasing difficulty with each surgery.
       Our third and final surgeon began exams on Monday, surgery on Tuesday. Six of our twenty on the ward were given a "no"straight off.
       One of those turned away is just 20 years old. Diarraye is a beautiful young lady with a mischievous grin and quiet affection. She was married off young. Her first pregnancy caused her fistula. Her baby was stillborn, her husband eventually left her. She cannot work with the condition.  She has no education. Her prospects are dire. After she was told there was no possible surgery, there isn't any healthy tissue to reconstruct, Diarraye lay on the floor wailing, inconsolable. By the next morning she sat in her bed, more sedate than usual, but with the same half smile as usual. Quiet acceptance of a fate beyond her control.
       There aren't words to describe the heartbreak, the sheer unfairness of it all. Tragic things happen all over the world every day, but this is PREVENTABLE. As charge nurse on the ward I've tried to  hold it together, dealing with issues as they come up, loving on each woman while she's with us, even if we can't help her medically. Yesterday, on my day off, there was no stopping the floodgates from opening, my tears flowing unchecked  down onto my shirt,  over my computer, streaking makeup down my face. A small relief to the sickness of heart I feel when I think of each one of these precious women walking away from this ship, unchanged and utterly hopeless. God, be their hope where they have none.

Love you all!

So it been a little while since I posted. So time to catch up :)

Hannah and I have just returned from a 2 week break over Christmas. We managed to get back to the Netherlands to spend time with my family. (There was also a whirlwind visit to Nurnberg in Germany where Daniel, my younger yet taller, brother is living. It is more than worth a visit, beautiful city)
It was a great chance to visit family and reconnect with old friends. There is nothing more encouraging than not seeing friends for a year and a half then sitting down to chat like it was yesterday you were seeing each other every week.
As I look at the various places Hannah and I have lived (and are likely to live) it is good to know that friendships sustain themselves even over long distances.
So call this my new years message to all the people out there whom I (or we) truly love and we don't see as often as we would like too that we do actually miss you all; and of course for the people who are around us that we feel blessed to share life with you.

In His service,
Ben

Just another day..

Just a normal day in the Academy: Finish getting reports out for the first quarter then a round of interviews for the teachers after school. This is normal, right?

A Screening full of Emotion

It's been over five weeks since Mercy Ships' patient screening day. It's the biggest single event the Ship coordinates for a field service. Potential patients line up for hours, often overnight, having come from as near as down the street and as far as hundreds of miles upcountry. Now that we're into the swing of the field service, with surgeries taking place every day, screening day seems in some ways a distant memory.

I was asked to assist the Team Leader, Deb Louden, in the history-taking area of screening. From 8 AM to 6PM eighteen nurses took down the surgical and medical histories, as well as vital signs, for thousands of potential patients. It was hard, hot, long work. Every time you looked up there were hundreds more in the sitting area, patiently waiting to be seen. More than once it felt completely overwhelming. As assistant team leader I split my time between taking patient histories and circulating as a support to the nurses who were, as well as making sure there was good patient flow through our area. I answered a lot of questions, scheduled breaks, kept upper management appraised of our flow and personnel needs. Though we were working hard all day, there was a fair amount of time to reflect and take in what was going on around me. The queue outside was immense and, at times, slightly unruly as the day became hot.
More than once that day tears sprang to my eyes looking at those who were sitting in our waiting chairs. They had made it through the initial screening. Would we be able to offer them surgery, or would we have to turn them away? Was all their travel, their time, and their anticipation for nothing? Or could the team onboard the ship help them in their sickness? It was almost too much for me to look at those I knew we couldn't help. I wasn't brave enough to face their inevitable disappointment. But even in my weakness, I could feel the grace of God in me, looking at each one, smiling encouragement. The heartache and years of shame represented in that waiting area was more than any human can stand. But by God's grace each one of us there was able to reach out God's hand of love and of hope, whether or not healing was possible, to each Guinean who came through our door. In my humanity it was hard to look at babies so malnourished they had little chance at life, or faces so contorted by tumor they were unrecognizable as human. But in such a real way, Jesus was there, helping us to tell each that he or she was precious.
At the same time, it felt unbelievably good offering something concrete; to say to somebody "yes, we have specialist doctors who can help you". Knowing so many would get the surgery they so desperately needed was tangibly exciting. The place was a buzz with possibility. There was unspeakable joy and unspeakable heartache all mixed up into one long day.
It stretched us all. As many things are in life, it was difficult and it was amazing.

Flowers!

We bought 2 plants in Tenerife for the cabin. After coaxing them through life with 1 small window and air conditioning one of them has started flowering! (Hannah's the plant expert in this family so praise to her :)).

Little things in life.

Guess what!?! Our IS department got the satellite working again; this means live football on the weekends once more. It's the little things in life :)
-Ben