18 October 2008
P.S.
I moved back to my former blog. Come over and you'll see post-trip meanderings about Europe as well as some thoughts on Liberia. See you and thanks evermore for reading.
01 October 2008
See you later, Mama Liberia
I am leaving Liberia in a few hours and I am just so glad I came.
It has been such a busy six months. I expected that much I am so glad that to throw myself into the work.
In my estimation, I have taught about 80 women how to knit. I focused on three women who will continue on this mission in Liberia when the ship leaves. At least two of them are speaking with local schools to be domestic arts teachers, once the ship leaves and they need employment. I have trained 10 ward nurses who will carry the skill with them to Benin, the ship's next destination. All of them understand -- this is not about vanity (although there is nothing wrong with a nice cardigan, mind you!), but it is about having a skill, a strength, something to share and a technique that can be adapted to do many other things.
To you, dear reader, thank you so much for coming along on the journey, for reading my words, looking at my pictures and caring for the people of Liberia. Thank you from them to you.
And to you, Liberia. God bless you. Don't lose your spirit of song, praise, and indefatigable joy. Don't lose your smile. Work towards peace for yourselves, and don't just allow others to determine your fate, and I know better days will come. Thank you for accepting the 'small Chinese girl' (as the patients would say) and treating her like one of your own.
See you later, readers, and see you later, Liberia.
It has been such a busy six months. I expected that much I am so glad that to throw myself into the work.
In my estimation, I have taught about 80 women how to knit. I focused on three women who will continue on this mission in Liberia when the ship leaves. At least two of them are speaking with local schools to be domestic arts teachers, once the ship leaves and they need employment. I have trained 10 ward nurses who will carry the skill with them to Benin, the ship's next destination. All of them understand -- this is not about vanity (although there is nothing wrong with a nice cardigan, mind you!), but it is about having a skill, a strength, something to share and a technique that can be adapted to do many other things.
To you, dear reader, thank you so much for coming along on the journey, for reading my words, looking at my pictures and caring for the people of Liberia. Thank you from them to you.
And to you, Liberia. God bless you. Don't lose your spirit of song, praise, and indefatigable joy. Don't lose your smile. Work towards peace for yourselves, and don't just allow others to determine your fate, and I know better days will come. Thank you for accepting the 'small Chinese girl' (as the patients would say) and treating her like one of your own.
See you later, readers, and see you later, Liberia.
28 September 2008
The last ward service
Today I attended my last ward service aboard the Africa Mercy. Dressed in my African 'suit', I soaked up in the atmosphere and studied the patient's faces, as Andrew pounded away on the drums. There is one new fellow who needs cataract surgery in both eyes. He stared off into the distance, but during the sermon he nodded his head. As we sang songs, he sang along, a smile spread across his lips. At the end of the service, Lucy called on me to pray out loud and I did so on the brink of tears.
After the service, Lucy and Zoe pulled me aside. They told me they just wanted to express their gratitude to me on behalf of the ward counselors. For coming down to the hospital, for being available to them, for being generous. If there is one thing that is humbling, it is when people praise me. I know what goes on inside of my heart, and more than once, I have had to pull myself - no, drag myself - down to the ward, sit down and be available. And then other times, I just hide in my cabin, eat junk food and watch cheesy movies, trying to shrug off just another half hour of doing what I came to do. So when someone calls me available, giving, and responsive, it very humbling.
Sitting in the middle of the empty recovery room, we exchanged stories from the past half year, laughing and crying a little bit too. They presented me with a card as well as many gifts. A dress for me, a small woven wallet, a pair of slippers and the best of all -- a shirt for my 'husband-to-be' (as noted on the card)! Zoe squealed in delight, hiding her face, when I said that Chris would like it so much. I love gifts and it is a love language of mine. But to me it was also a huge act of service. I know how much these things cost, and I know how much their salary is on the ship. It easily cost a week's paycheck.
I was so speechless and am so thankful. I will never understand how I have come to mean so much to them and them to me. And while there were those moments of me hiding in my cabin, I remember that there were also moments that I was happily present, available and without any other place in the world I'd rather be, than knitting with those women and the patients.
After the service, Lucy and Zoe pulled me aside. They told me they just wanted to express their gratitude to me on behalf of the ward counselors. For coming down to the hospital, for being available to them, for being generous. If there is one thing that is humbling, it is when people praise me. I know what goes on inside of my heart, and more than once, I have had to pull myself - no, drag myself - down to the ward, sit down and be available. And then other times, I just hide in my cabin, eat junk food and watch cheesy movies, trying to shrug off just another half hour of doing what I came to do. So when someone calls me available, giving, and responsive, it very humbling.
Sitting in the middle of the empty recovery room, we exchanged stories from the past half year, laughing and crying a little bit too. They presented me with a card as well as many gifts. A dress for me, a small woven wallet, a pair of slippers and the best of all -- a shirt for my 'husband-to-be' (as noted on the card)! Zoe squealed in delight, hiding her face, when I said that Chris would like it so much. I love gifts and it is a love language of mine. But to me it was also a huge act of service. I know how much these things cost, and I know how much their salary is on the ship. It easily cost a week's paycheck.
I was so speechless and am so thankful. I will never understand how I have come to mean so much to them and them to me. And while there were those moments of me hiding in my cabin, I remember that there were also moments that I was happily present, available and without any other place in the world I'd rather be, than knitting with those women and the patients.
26 September 2008
Lucy
Of all my Liberian friends, Lucy is the one I am closest with. She's not technically Liberian, but Nigerian, though she has lived in Liberia for quite some years after marrying her late husband.
She is educated, humourous, resourceful, and nurturing. All this and more, rooted in a very deep faith. As a sign of respect, Africans call their female elders, 'mothers' or 'mom'. I have no problem calling her my African 'mom'. I respect her very much and kindness and friendship is priceless. Through her, I have gained so much insight into Liberia, human nature, spirituality and God.
Her late husband, Oliver, was a missionary. They had four children together before he had cancer and died in Oregon while overseas for a conference. While on his death bed, Lucy and her children were in Liberia. Lucy's then four year old daughter walked into the room and said, 'Mama, Daddy is no longer in America. He is with Jesus!' At that moment, the phone rang and Oliver's colleagues telephoned and said that he had just passed away.
He started a church in Paynesville near Monrovia, Liberia. There is a Bible college there and that is where Lucy and her children live. By comparison to other tin shacks in Monrovia, it is a nice cement studio, though the windows are broken and there is no lock on the door. When I visited her, she served me some delicious dried fish and rice. When I tasted it, I smiled and said, 'You made it less spicy because you knew I was coming over!' She chuckled.
Her children range in age from twelve to six, two girls and two boys. All of them go to school. Her ambition is to send them straight through high school. I've been to church with her a couple times, and each time she slips me some Liberian dollars for the offering. She reminds me of my own mother that way, of course, because she too is the mother of two girls and two boys.
Because her husband was a missionary and started several churches in Liberia, she is very well respected. Last month, there was a memorial service for Oliver, during one particular church's anniversary. They called up 'Great grandmother Lucy' and honored her by pinning on flowers and candies.
Lucy once said to me, 'I don't think I will ever go to America, but I will always think of you and pray for you. Because when I think of you, I just feel good.'
I feel the same about you, Mama Lucy.
She is educated, humourous, resourceful, and nurturing. All this and more, rooted in a very deep faith. As a sign of respect, Africans call their female elders, 'mothers' or 'mom'. I have no problem calling her my African 'mom'. I respect her very much and kindness and friendship is priceless. Through her, I have gained so much insight into Liberia, human nature, spirituality and God.
Her late husband, Oliver, was a missionary. They had four children together before he had cancer and died in Oregon while overseas for a conference. While on his death bed, Lucy and her children were in Liberia. Lucy's then four year old daughter walked into the room and said, 'Mama, Daddy is no longer in America. He is with Jesus!' At that moment, the phone rang and Oliver's colleagues telephoned and said that he had just passed away.
He started a church in Paynesville near Monrovia, Liberia. There is a Bible college there and that is where Lucy and her children live. By comparison to other tin shacks in Monrovia, it is a nice cement studio, though the windows are broken and there is no lock on the door. When I visited her, she served me some delicious dried fish and rice. When I tasted it, I smiled and said, 'You made it less spicy because you knew I was coming over!' She chuckled.
Her children range in age from twelve to six, two girls and two boys. All of them go to school. Her ambition is to send them straight through high school. I've been to church with her a couple times, and each time she slips me some Liberian dollars for the offering. She reminds me of my own mother that way, of course, because she too is the mother of two girls and two boys.
Because her husband was a missionary and started several churches in Liberia, she is very well respected. Last month, there was a memorial service for Oliver, during one particular church's anniversary. They called up 'Great grandmother Lucy' and honored her by pinning on flowers and candies.
Lucy once said to me, 'I don't think I will ever go to America, but I will always think of you and pray for you. Because when I think of you, I just feel good.'
I feel the same about you, Mama Lucy.
25 September 2008
Hand to the plow
It seems that in the natural order of things, something old must go for something new to happen. Before the beauty of spring, there must be autumn where the leaves turn color and die in the winter. Before the miracle of a child is introduced into the world, there is tremendous pain (and some may say suffering in the nine months previous to that.) Before you reap the fruits of the harvest, you had to spend hours being patient. Your energy was poured into something that may not show evidence of your work until the final moments.
The hardest things in life -- mostly the good things -- require work. And for the good things to exist in our life, sometimes we have to give up what we think is merely good - the old habits, the stubbornness, the old memories -- anything that keeps us from moving ahead.
There is a sacred scripture that reads, 'Anyone who puts their hand to the plow is not fit for the kingdom of God.' The first time I read that, I said, 'So what?' And then one day I read it again, and I understood what it meant -- Be serious about your journey. Look ahead. You cannot drive forward while looking in the rear view mirror. You will crash.
This blog entry all of us who struggle to let go of the comfort of old pain, hopelessness, revenge, bitterness, abusive addiction, and slow, but crippling habits. It is also inspired by those in Liberia whom I've met who have experienced all of that, but just somehow put their hand to the plow, and don't look back because they know a miracle is right around the corner.
The hardest things in life -- mostly the good things -- require work. And for the good things to exist in our life, sometimes we have to give up what we think is merely good - the old habits, the stubbornness, the old memories -- anything that keeps us from moving ahead.
There is a sacred scripture that reads, 'Anyone who puts their hand to the plow is not fit for the kingdom of God.' The first time I read that, I said, 'So what?' And then one day I read it again, and I understood what it meant -- Be serious about your journey. Look ahead. You cannot drive forward while looking in the rear view mirror. You will crash.
This blog entry all of us who struggle to let go of the comfort of old pain, hopelessness, revenge, bitterness, abusive addiction, and slow, but crippling habits. It is also inspired by those in Liberia whom I've met who have experienced all of that, but just somehow put their hand to the plow, and don't look back because they know a miracle is right around the corner.
24 September 2008
7 more sleeps
As Leena would say, 'Seven more sleeps!' That is, seven more days before I leave the ship. That said, there is so much to be done.
I did squeeze in some time for a dental visit. Yes, I needed the work to be done (fractured filling), but also when else was I going to have my teeth worked on by a Swedish hygenist and a Norwegian dentist? It is free (well, part of my crew fees), so I feel like I am living in a Scandinavian country. (And I suppose that's not really free for them anyway, because they pay very high taxes. Anyways.)
On my way out, nursery was in full swing. Snack time!
I have a knitting class with the translators in two hours. They are very determined to make ... socks! (Wonder how they got that idea.)
I did squeeze in some time for a dental visit. Yes, I needed the work to be done (fractured filling), but also when else was I going to have my teeth worked on by a Swedish hygenist and a Norwegian dentist? It is free (well, part of my crew fees), so I feel like I am living in a Scandinavian country. (And I suppose that's not really free for them anyway, because they pay very high taxes. Anyways.)
On my way out, nursery was in full swing. Snack time!
I have a knitting class with the translators in two hours. They are very determined to make ... socks! (Wonder how they got that idea.)
23 September 2008
Glory
When people visit Africa, they want to see unbridled natural beauty. The kind of beauty that exists without explanation and in duplication or reference to it, only sort of diminishes it.
At about six o'clock, all the crew members started rushing out to the dock, cameras in hand. A strong golden glow was cast upon the side of the ship, all faces illuminated. The sky was very dark and the sea was grey with it. Turn the corner, however, and the sun was dipping into the ocean, a bright burning ball of fire moving along a cloudless strip of sky. Over one hundred people stood there in silence, silhouetted and overwhelmed by its light.
In describing Africa, Paul Theroux says in Sunrise with Seamonsters that a picture is worth a thousand words, but only a thousand. So while I have photos of it, they do not do it justice.
At about six o'clock, all the crew members started rushing out to the dock, cameras in hand. A strong golden glow was cast upon the side of the ship, all faces illuminated. The sky was very dark and the sea was grey with it. Turn the corner, however, and the sun was dipping into the ocean, a bright burning ball of fire moving along a cloudless strip of sky. Over one hundred people stood there in silence, silhouetted and overwhelmed by its light.
In describing Africa, Paul Theroux says in Sunrise with Seamonsters that a picture is worth a thousand words, but only a thousand. So while I have photos of it, they do not do it justice.
22 September 2008
Friendship
The Africa Mercy may be the only place on earth where a South Korean pals around with a Sierra Leonean while a Chinese American takes a photo of them.
Noh Jun is an electrician on the ship who just finished his service for the Korean Navy. Philip works as a cook. He was orphaned at a young age, having lost both his parents. He met two Mercy Ships volunteers many years ago, learned about the organization and has always wanted to come.
'So, Philip, you are living out your dream right now!' I remarked.
With a smile, he replied, 'Yes, I am.'
Noh Jun is an electrician on the ship who just finished his service for the Korean Navy. Philip works as a cook. He was orphaned at a young age, having lost both his parents. He met two Mercy Ships volunteers many years ago, learned about the organization and has always wanted to come.
'So, Philip, you are living out your dream right now!' I remarked.
With a smile, he replied, 'Yes, I am.'
21 September 2008
Tired
I'm just tired today. Tired, depressed, anxious to go, sad to leave and extremely grateful. So what does one do? Knit socks!
20 September 2008
Underwater and drowning
There are about twenty to thirty sunken ships in the port of Freeport, Monrovia. Bombed out carcasses left over from the war, casualties of neglect and abuse. And the most apparent of them all sits right outside my office window.
On any given night, you can stand on the dock and listen to the wind and the hum of various container ships' hydraulics moving each large metal box up and down. Watching the glow of the fluorescent lights from the ship, I often wonder what the sailors are doing on the ship and what life is like lived sailing constantly. Perhaps they are wondering about this white hospital ship docked on the opposite side of the port as well.
Two weeks ago, a beautiful vessel sailed into port. Upon first glance, nothing unusual, but then we noticed the flag of North Korea painted on its side. All the South Koreans grew very excited. Totally ignorant of politics, I walked up to the ship and yelled 'hello' in Korean, waving and smiling (perhaps acting like a giddy American). Later on, I would find out so much more about South and North Korean politics from my South Korean friends on the ship, their rivalries and history. Growing up in South Korean, students were forbidden to utter the words North Korea. The color red is associated with communism, and any display of red, a child's favorite color being red or the donning of red clothes was strictly forbidden. As the most tangible sign of their rivalry, at the 38th parallel, there is a barrier between South and North Korea that is 3 miles deep and 155 miles long. It the most heavily armed border in the world.
The South Koreans on the ship invited the North Korean sailors to our home on the Africa Mercy, but the NK sailors politely declined. They asked for medicines, which Ji-Hee (SK) jumped through several hoops to get. As a matter of protocol, the recipient must sign for the medicines. The sailors received them, but then later returned them. I suspect it is that they found out we are a Christian organization or saw us as Americans (which makes us enemies), or both. In any case, I hope they will not develop malaria. They were importing sugar from Brazil when the sailors were bitten.
Later on, we stood on the dock and watched them unload huge bags of sugar from the boat. I could tell my South Korean friends were fascinated by them yet dismayed. It was the first time they had ever met North Koreans in their life and most likely, the first time the North Koreans had ever laid eyes on South Koreans. They speak the same language, eat the same foods, and have the same apperance. I only wished we had prepared some nice kim chee and bibimbap. I think we could've found some world peace right there.
Yet here we were standing so close to the NK boat's stern that we could reach out and touch it, yet the people inside them were miles away. They will not and cannot make contact or connection with us. We represent the outside world - its freedoms, its ideals, its politics -- and that is something they simply cannot have any part in.
On any given night, you can stand on the dock and listen to the wind and the hum of various container ships' hydraulics moving each large metal box up and down. Watching the glow of the fluorescent lights from the ship, I often wonder what the sailors are doing on the ship and what life is like lived sailing constantly. Perhaps they are wondering about this white hospital ship docked on the opposite side of the port as well.
Two weeks ago, a beautiful vessel sailed into port. Upon first glance, nothing unusual, but then we noticed the flag of North Korea painted on its side. All the South Koreans grew very excited. Totally ignorant of politics, I walked up to the ship and yelled 'hello' in Korean, waving and smiling (perhaps acting like a giddy American). Later on, I would find out so much more about South and North Korean politics from my South Korean friends on the ship, their rivalries and history. Growing up in South Korean, students were forbidden to utter the words North Korea. The color red is associated with communism, and any display of red, a child's favorite color being red or the donning of red clothes was strictly forbidden. As the most tangible sign of their rivalry, at the 38th parallel, there is a barrier between South and North Korea that is 3 miles deep and 155 miles long. It the most heavily armed border in the world.
The South Koreans on the ship invited the North Korean sailors to our home on the Africa Mercy, but the NK sailors politely declined. They asked for medicines, which Ji-Hee (SK) jumped through several hoops to get. As a matter of protocol, the recipient must sign for the medicines. The sailors received them, but then later returned them. I suspect it is that they found out we are a Christian organization or saw us as Americans (which makes us enemies), or both. In any case, I hope they will not develop malaria. They were importing sugar from Brazil when the sailors were bitten.
Later on, we stood on the dock and watched them unload huge bags of sugar from the boat. I could tell my South Korean friends were fascinated by them yet dismayed. It was the first time they had ever met North Koreans in their life and most likely, the first time the North Koreans had ever laid eyes on South Koreans. They speak the same language, eat the same foods, and have the same apperance. I only wished we had prepared some nice kim chee and bibimbap. I think we could've found some world peace right there.
Yet here we were standing so close to the NK boat's stern that we could reach out and touch it, yet the people inside them were miles away. They will not and cannot make contact or connection with us. We represent the outside world - its freedoms, its ideals, its politics -- and that is something they simply cannot have any part in.
19 September 2008
Cozies, classes, cuddling
* A beautiful, bright sunny day in Monrovia. The water sparkles after a night of lightning storms and torrential downpour. It is my boss's birthday. A month ago, he flippantly remarked that he would like the ugliest tea cozy possible. Would I knit one? Of course! I don't have many materials here, but from what I do, here is what I delivered on his birthday. From 2004 Knitty, the Kureyon Kozy knit from 3 strands of fingering weight yarn.
The teapot sweater kept the Yorkshire tea nice and hot, which made this Englishman very happy.
* Zoe, Doris and Lucy are still trying to learn how to make the Anthropologie Capelet. In addition to that, I am teaching them the Sarena Shrug, a pattern that I picked up from the now defunct (sadly, so sadly defunct!) Knitting Arts store in Saratoga, CA. I made a small sample for a teddy bear. They were extremely excited. Incidentally, my mother made me an eggplant colored Sarena Shrug and I really love it!
*Mickey is about two years old. He trundles around the wards with his hand bandaged up due to burn wounds. He has a skin graft up his arm. He is so happy! I was sitting on one of the patient's beds today when he walked up, hugged me and buried his head into my lap. When I left later for another ward, he found me and did the same thing again. He reminds me that we all just want a place to run to, especially when at times we feel like we're wearing nothing but a too short hospital gown with one arm bandaged up.
The teapot sweater kept the Yorkshire tea nice and hot, which made this Englishman very happy.
* Zoe, Doris and Lucy are still trying to learn how to make the Anthropologie Capelet. In addition to that, I am teaching them the Sarena Shrug, a pattern that I picked up from the now defunct (sadly, so sadly defunct!) Knitting Arts store in Saratoga, CA. I made a small sample for a teddy bear. They were extremely excited. Incidentally, my mother made me an eggplant colored Sarena Shrug and I really love it!
*Mickey is about two years old. He trundles around the wards with his hand bandaged up due to burn wounds. He has a skin graft up his arm. He is so happy! I was sitting on one of the patient's beds today when he walked up, hugged me and buried his head into my lap. When I left later for another ward, he found me and did the same thing again. He reminds me that we all just want a place to run to, especially when at times we feel like we're wearing nothing but a too short hospital gown with one arm bandaged up.
18 September 2008
15 minutes of fame...
Some things about the 18th of September, 2008...
* I am training my predecessor in the job, and watching someone click on Excel cells can be a bit tiring.
* A photo of Musu, Sonnie and me is on the front page of the internal Mercy Ships site.
* We had yet another beautiful sunset today - a marvelous display of reds, oranges and peach, seeping through rain filled clouds.
* Yesterday I was sad about leaving. Today I cannot wait.
* I am training my predecessor in the job, and watching someone click on Excel cells can be a bit tiring.
* A photo of Musu, Sonnie and me is on the front page of the internal Mercy Ships site.
* We had yet another beautiful sunset today - a marvelous display of reds, oranges and peach, seeping through rain filled clouds.
* Yesterday I was sad about leaving. Today I cannot wait.
17 September 2008
14 days
For the last fourteen days of my stay here, I will post one photo that describes a highlight (or lowlight ... lowdark?) of my day so that you can see my time as it comes to a close.
As for today... I'll title this The Science of Knitting.
In an effort to pass on the knitting skills, the ward supervisors asked me to teach the fifteen ward nurses who will sail with the ship to Benin this year. They have progressed so well, so easily and in one afternoon, two of the eight who came today managed to finish two baby hats. I passed onto them a standard hat pattern, as written on the white board.
It might not be calculus, but I'm sure it still looks like gibberish to some!
As for today... I'll title this The Science of Knitting.
In an effort to pass on the knitting skills, the ward supervisors asked me to teach the fifteen ward nurses who will sail with the ship to Benin this year. They have progressed so well, so easily and in one afternoon, two of the eight who came today managed to finish two baby hats. I passed onto them a standard hat pattern, as written on the white board.
It might not be calculus, but I'm sure it still looks like gibberish to some!
Updates
I am 14 days away from leaving Liberia, West Africa. With that in mind, I thought it would be a good time for some updates.
• Musu was my first knitting student. Since then, we’ve visited with each other twice. Her son, Semean, came for another check up on my birthday last week. We were thrilled to see each other. Semean had hypospandia, but after his operation is able to urinate properly. There is more work to be done on his testicles, but it is inoperable until he is older.
• Dehne, the mother of 7 year old Musa, has come back to the ship several times. She is friends with a Dutch family that is onboard. Musa was in a major car accident in 2006 that tore away half of his cheek. He had facial reconstruction surgery on the ship. His skin grafts have healed nicely. Dehne came by last week and brought me two cucumbers and a bunch of bananas. During the time that she was here, she was not feeling “too fine” (as she would say) herself. She had a limp that seems to have worsened, but her spirit remains undeterred.
• During her time in the ward, I visited Joanna daily for three months, with two exceptions where I skipped one day. When I would return the following day, she would complain and say, ‘You are very expensive! I been missing you!’ Now that she has been discharged, she doesn’t seem to miss me as much, though I do see her every two weeks or so. It is always nice to see her, and she is faithful to her friendships (by evidence of her coming by the ship and saying goodbye to some departing crew members, etc.). Her daughter Angela, six, caught malaria and is slowly recovering.
• Of all the ladies I met, I felt that I bonded the most with Comfort during her time here. During her post operative visits, she was much more interested in me getting her 20 year old nephew get a job on the ship than seeing me again. She had previously vowed that through rain or shine, sleet or snow, she would come visit me again in September before I returned to the States. During my last conversation with her, Comfort asked me again if I had gotten a job for her nephew. I said no, our slots are filled, and very unlikely would any Liberian give up their job on the ship (which is the truth). We said goodbye, back then as I do now, I felt that it would be the last I saw her. She has not come back for post-operation with her son nor have I heard from her again.
• I was not able to mobilize any sort of monetary collection to help the Bong County Hospital. Without any official documents to prove that the money would be received by a trustworthy agency, the ship did not feel that it was a wise decision. I tried to procure documents, but with no luck. Nonetheless, some months passed and another group went back to the hospital and donated a lot of medical supplies! I’m glad we as the crew could do something for them. It is a very good hospital.
• Musu was my first knitting student. Since then, we’ve visited with each other twice. Her son, Semean, came for another check up on my birthday last week. We were thrilled to see each other. Semean had hypospandia, but after his operation is able to urinate properly. There is more work to be done on his testicles, but it is inoperable until he is older.
• Dehne, the mother of 7 year old Musa, has come back to the ship several times. She is friends with a Dutch family that is onboard. Musa was in a major car accident in 2006 that tore away half of his cheek. He had facial reconstruction surgery on the ship. His skin grafts have healed nicely. Dehne came by last week and brought me two cucumbers and a bunch of bananas. During the time that she was here, she was not feeling “too fine” (as she would say) herself. She had a limp that seems to have worsened, but her spirit remains undeterred.
• During her time in the ward, I visited Joanna daily for three months, with two exceptions where I skipped one day. When I would return the following day, she would complain and say, ‘You are very expensive! I been missing you!’ Now that she has been discharged, she doesn’t seem to miss me as much, though I do see her every two weeks or so. It is always nice to see her, and she is faithful to her friendships (by evidence of her coming by the ship and saying goodbye to some departing crew members, etc.). Her daughter Angela, six, caught malaria and is slowly recovering.
• Of all the ladies I met, I felt that I bonded the most with Comfort during her time here. During her post operative visits, she was much more interested in me getting her 20 year old nephew get a job on the ship than seeing me again. She had previously vowed that through rain or shine, sleet or snow, she would come visit me again in September before I returned to the States. During my last conversation with her, Comfort asked me again if I had gotten a job for her nephew. I said no, our slots are filled, and very unlikely would any Liberian give up their job on the ship (which is the truth). We said goodbye, back then as I do now, I felt that it would be the last I saw her. She has not come back for post-operation with her son nor have I heard from her again.
• I was not able to mobilize any sort of monetary collection to help the Bong County Hospital. Without any official documents to prove that the money would be received by a trustworthy agency, the ship did not feel that it was a wise decision. I tried to procure documents, but with no luck. Nonetheless, some months passed and another group went back to the hospital and donated a lot of medical supplies! I’m glad we as the crew could do something for them. It is a very good hospital.
07 September 2008
China
The United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL) has involved the largest deployment of UN troops in the history of the UN. The outbreak of war under Charles Taylor caused over 150,000 deaths and almost 1 million displaced persons. Soldiers from over 35 nations sent their troops to aide in peacekeeping. During its initial phase, this involved disarming over 100,000 people. Now, UNMIL is still a part of the peace keeping process in Liberia, but they have divided up their duties amongst various battalions.
On Saturday, I had the pleasure of being a guest at UNMIL China.
They have the largest vehicle inventory numbering over 150, and approximately 200 troops. Their peace keeping mission involves water and sanitation, building roads, education amongst others.
Major Liu gives shares a Power Point presentation about the efforts of UNMIL China.
Everyday, some number of troops will travel significant distances through unpaved roads to aide in rebuilding. Troops typically leave by 6 AM and return by 11 PM. It is arduous work.
The Commanding Officer, Lt Colonel Wang, took a photograph with the Chinese crew members. From left to right, Dorothy, Eddie, Mr. Wang and myself.
We took a tour of their grounds. The barracks are very modest, but very well kept. We met some of the lower-ranking soldiers, who received us with hospitality and humility.
Belongings are at a bare minimum. Each of them own one towel, as you can see.
Can you guess how many soldiers are in each room? Eight, of course!
True to Chinese tradition, there was, in the middle of the African tropics, a Chinese garden, complete with some Chinese greens and bamboo. On a small concrete block, there was also a tree stump which served as a table and four smaller stumps which stood in for chairs. If you have ever been to a park in Chinatown San Francisco, Hong Kong or China (amongst a few places!), this would look familiar to you. It is a common place for elderly Chinese men play Chinese chess. Other recreational activities include table tennis (of course), racing/running and also UNMIL Idol (singing competition) with other bases.
There was even some landscaping art done with weeds!
There is a Level 1 doctor at the base. Level 1 simply treats the soldiers. Level 2 would treat soldiers and have more medicines. If a UN base hospital is Level 3, the community are allowed to visit for health care. The Chinese base has, what else, Chinese medicines!
The doctor tried the traditional cup suction technique on Kelly. But apparently, it doesn't work well on hairy arms.
The biggest delight was being treated to what I would call a 'combat dance'. The soldiers performed traditional kung fu, tai chi as well as some close quarters combat techniques choreographed into a dance routine. It was very impressive!
Did you watch the opening ceremonies for this year's Olympics? 2008 Tai Chi Masters took center stage, doing Tai Chi in concentric circles. Many of them were in fact part of the Chinese army and some of them will be deployed as UN troops. They were all so orderly, and all their motions were in synch. Unfortunately, I think these were the ones that didn't make the Olympic try-outs. (Notice the level of the arms for each soldier).
As I said the close quarters combat soldiers were my favorite. Ironically, the slogan behind them mentions world peace. Maybe world peace through CQC?
After the performance, we took many photos together. Before we said our goodbyes, they presented us with gifts! For the ladies, beautiful bracelets and for the men, bookmarks and CDs with Chinese music.
We might return to the base for the Moon Festival next weekend. If so, it would be lovely to celebrate with our fellow Chinese. I could tell they really enjoyed having visitors and they were really proud of their work, their nation, and their traditions.
On Saturday, I had the pleasure of being a guest at UNMIL China.
They have the largest vehicle inventory numbering over 150, and approximately 200 troops. Their peace keeping mission involves water and sanitation, building roads, education amongst others.
Major Liu gives shares a Power Point presentation about the efforts of UNMIL China.
Everyday, some number of troops will travel significant distances through unpaved roads to aide in rebuilding. Troops typically leave by 6 AM and return by 11 PM. It is arduous work.
The Commanding Officer, Lt Colonel Wang, took a photograph with the Chinese crew members. From left to right, Dorothy, Eddie, Mr. Wang and myself.
We took a tour of their grounds. The barracks are very modest, but very well kept. We met some of the lower-ranking soldiers, who received us with hospitality and humility.
Belongings are at a bare minimum. Each of them own one towel, as you can see.
Can you guess how many soldiers are in each room? Eight, of course!
True to Chinese tradition, there was, in the middle of the African tropics, a Chinese garden, complete with some Chinese greens and bamboo. On a small concrete block, there was also a tree stump which served as a table and four smaller stumps which stood in for chairs. If you have ever been to a park in Chinatown San Francisco, Hong Kong or China (amongst a few places!), this would look familiar to you. It is a common place for elderly Chinese men play Chinese chess. Other recreational activities include table tennis (of course), racing/running and also UNMIL Idol (singing competition) with other bases.
There was even some landscaping art done with weeds!
There is a Level 1 doctor at the base. Level 1 simply treats the soldiers. Level 2 would treat soldiers and have more medicines. If a UN base hospital is Level 3, the community are allowed to visit for health care. The Chinese base has, what else, Chinese medicines!
The doctor tried the traditional cup suction technique on Kelly. But apparently, it doesn't work well on hairy arms.
The biggest delight was being treated to what I would call a 'combat dance'. The soldiers performed traditional kung fu, tai chi as well as some close quarters combat techniques choreographed into a dance routine. It was very impressive!
Did you watch the opening ceremonies for this year's Olympics? 2008 Tai Chi Masters took center stage, doing Tai Chi in concentric circles. Many of them were in fact part of the Chinese army and some of them will be deployed as UN troops. They were all so orderly, and all their motions were in synch. Unfortunately, I think these were the ones that didn't make the Olympic try-outs. (Notice the level of the arms for each soldier).
As I said the close quarters combat soldiers were my favorite. Ironically, the slogan behind them mentions world peace. Maybe world peace through CQC?
After the performance, we took many photos together. Before we said our goodbyes, they presented us with gifts! For the ladies, beautiful bracelets and for the men, bookmarks and CDs with Chinese music.
We might return to the base for the Moon Festival next weekend. If so, it would be lovely to celebrate with our fellow Chinese. I could tell they really enjoyed having visitors and they were really proud of their work, their nation, and their traditions.
04 September 2008
31
Yesterday was my 31st birthday. I didn't expect much in the way of celebration, but as it goes in Africa, expect the unexpected.
Is this the look of 31?
A mosquito gave me a birthday kiss the night before. And if you know me at all, you will know that I am allergic and very prone to mosquito bites.
Don't worry, its not Quasimodo from Hunchback of Notre Dame. Just me.
My roommate Ellen had printed out a beautiful card for me. She had my patients in wards A and B sign it. All the VVF ladies, Kossie, his mom, everyone. Even Baby Fiumo in Bed B11 signed it. Suddenly, this baby is more literate than most Liberians at his tender age of six months. Hm, maybe it had something to do with dayworkers who helped?
What a surprise it was when I opened my door! Kyung Jin and Ji Hee from Korea had decorated the hallway and left brownies for me.
It was so beautiful and so much thought was put into it.
Arriving at my office....
Different people started signing the stars. I received so many well wishes.
I received visitors all day long. Eddie the baker dropped by twice. Once with some really fancy looking rolls....
...and then another time with a creation that took my breath away. Now this is ingenuity!
A star-shaped Chinese egg tart with a caramel shell over it, complete with a sugar-cinnamon twist. My taste buds thanked him later.
It was so heart warming to open up my email and receive all your wonderful birthday wishes. Chris sent me a song that he wrote, produced and recorded. It was very special. Thank you so much!
During lunch time, I fixed myself up some noodles that my mom so lovingly sent me in a birthday care package. Noodles represent 'longevity' she wrote on a post-it note. I made myself a nice hot bowl and sat in the open air and watched the falling rain. It was a moment of gratitude indeed. (Thank you, Mummy!)
In the afternoon, I visited the ward. I was greeted with some really fancy and colorful works of art from the patients!
Each of them in ward B had colored a birthday cake for me. Sekou and his little friend started singing Happy Birthday to me right away. Their joy was so uplifting to me. In retrospect, I think I was speechless. I don't quite remember the moment. But I remember how great they made me feel.
The day ended with dinner at a local restaurant. About seven other friends and I enjoyed a really tasty Lebanese meal. Eunok baked a cake for me. As you can see, Ji-Hee is quite proud of it, and so was I.
When they cut the cake for me at the restaurant, they sang to me in four different languages (Korean, Dutch, German and Liberian English).
I went to bed with my heart and stomache full. Birthdays always remind me how crucial good friends are to me. On a day by day basis, it is so easy for me to take others for granted. I am so humbled by all of you who always go the extra mile for me.
Thank you for giving me your love. Because of you, I call myself blessed.
Is this the look of 31?
A mosquito gave me a birthday kiss the night before. And if you know me at all, you will know that I am allergic and very prone to mosquito bites.
Don't worry, its not Quasimodo from Hunchback of Notre Dame. Just me.
My roommate Ellen had printed out a beautiful card for me. She had my patients in wards A and B sign it. All the VVF ladies, Kossie, his mom, everyone. Even Baby Fiumo in Bed B11 signed it. Suddenly, this baby is more literate than most Liberians at his tender age of six months. Hm, maybe it had something to do with dayworkers who helped?
What a surprise it was when I opened my door! Kyung Jin and Ji Hee from Korea had decorated the hallway and left brownies for me.
It was so beautiful and so much thought was put into it.
Arriving at my office....
Different people started signing the stars. I received so many well wishes.
I received visitors all day long. Eddie the baker dropped by twice. Once with some really fancy looking rolls....
...and then another time with a creation that took my breath away. Now this is ingenuity!
A star-shaped Chinese egg tart with a caramel shell over it, complete with a sugar-cinnamon twist. My taste buds thanked him later.
It was so heart warming to open up my email and receive all your wonderful birthday wishes. Chris sent me a song that he wrote, produced and recorded. It was very special. Thank you so much!
During lunch time, I fixed myself up some noodles that my mom so lovingly sent me in a birthday care package. Noodles represent 'longevity' she wrote on a post-it note. I made myself a nice hot bowl and sat in the open air and watched the falling rain. It was a moment of gratitude indeed. (Thank you, Mummy!)
In the afternoon, I visited the ward. I was greeted with some really fancy and colorful works of art from the patients!
Each of them in ward B had colored a birthday cake for me. Sekou and his little friend started singing Happy Birthday to me right away. Their joy was so uplifting to me. In retrospect, I think I was speechless. I don't quite remember the moment. But I remember how great they made me feel.
The day ended with dinner at a local restaurant. About seven other friends and I enjoyed a really tasty Lebanese meal. Eunok baked a cake for me. As you can see, Ji-Hee is quite proud of it, and so was I.
When they cut the cake for me at the restaurant, they sang to me in four different languages (Korean, Dutch, German and Liberian English).
I went to bed with my heart and stomache full. Birthdays always remind me how crucial good friends are to me. On a day by day basis, it is so easy for me to take others for granted. I am so humbled by all of you who always go the extra mile for me.
Thank you for giving me your love. Because of you, I call myself blessed.
03 September 2008
Knit Club
My friend Dani and I threw several Knit Club parties back in Los Angeles. Every now and then we'd get together, throw open our doors and just invite about 20,30, or 40 people to come to one of our homes, eat (junk) food, chat and talk about knitting and crocheting. On several occasions, we'd find ladies realizing through some six degress of separation type magic that they knew one another, had mutual friends, dated the same guy, etcetra. During colder days, we'd put a log in the fireplace and curl up to a few hours of knitting. It always ended up with a good laugh and I'm sure some Knit Club devotees can vouch for that.
'Knit Club' on the Africa Mercy in Liberia is, well, different.
How different? Sitting-on-lime-green-linoleum-floors-under-fluorescent-lighting -with-half-dressed-women-in-their-hospital-gowns-and-their-urine-drip-bags-leaned-against-their-beds-while-knitting type of different.
Still, we are chatting, eating, knitting and crocheting.
Some of them speak English (well, Liberian English) and some of them don't speak a word of English especially if they are from the interior villages. All of them don't know how to knit, but they are hungry to learn something. Anything.
And while knitting may seem like a foreign language to some of the girls I've taught back in Los Angeles, I don't think that I will ever have as much prodding with a knitting needle than I do here in Liberia, as is the case with Nyamah. She speaks Kpelle with a smattering of English.
'EH! LIGH THEEEE?' She's shouting at me: Hey! Like this? She pushes me forcefully with the palm of her hand or taps me on the shoulder with her knitting needle.
'Yes, that's right,' I answer.
Moments pass.
'Oh, I make mistake!' Nyamah insists. She pushes me again.
' NO, YOU FINE-O!' I answer in my best Liberian English. I give her a firm smack on the shoulder. She cracks up and so does the woman over the next bed.
She refocuses herself, eyebrows furrowed. Most of the VVF ladies wear their gowns open in the front so they can clean themselves up more easily. She is fully naked underneath. She sighs as a stitch slips. Nyamah grabs the ball of yarn and shoves it between her legs in her bare crotch to hold it in place.
Now that's something I will probably not experience at Knit Club in Los Angeles. (And don't anyone dare try.)
'Knit Club' on the Africa Mercy in Liberia is, well, different.
How different? Sitting-on-lime-green-linoleum-floors-under-fluorescent-lighting -with-half-dressed-women-in-their-hospital-gowns-and-their-urine-drip-bags-leaned-against-their-beds-while-knitting type of different.
Still, we are chatting, eating, knitting and crocheting.
Some of them speak English (well, Liberian English) and some of them don't speak a word of English especially if they are from the interior villages. All of them don't know how to knit, but they are hungry to learn something. Anything.
And while knitting may seem like a foreign language to some of the girls I've taught back in Los Angeles, I don't think that I will ever have as much prodding with a knitting needle than I do here in Liberia, as is the case with Nyamah. She speaks Kpelle with a smattering of English.
'EH! LIGH THEEEE?' She's shouting at me: Hey! Like this? She pushes me forcefully with the palm of her hand or taps me on the shoulder with her knitting needle.
'Yes, that's right,' I answer.
Moments pass.
'Oh, I make mistake!' Nyamah insists. She pushes me again.
' NO, YOU FINE-O!' I answer in my best Liberian English. I give her a firm smack on the shoulder. She cracks up and so does the woman over the next bed.
She refocuses herself, eyebrows furrowed. Most of the VVF ladies wear their gowns open in the front so they can clean themselves up more easily. She is fully naked underneath. She sighs as a stitch slips. Nyamah grabs the ball of yarn and shoves it between her legs in her bare crotch to hold it in place.
Now that's something I will probably not experience at Knit Club in Los Angeles. (And don't anyone dare try.)
02 September 2008
Something very simple
It is and is not really about knitting. It is about knitting, because a lot of Liberians don’t know about it at all. The other day I took four different balls of yarn and knitted as one yarn on a huge needle. During this demonstration, the ladies watched as various colors were woven together and in a short amount of time, a piece of material was made before their very eyes. It is the most popular project so far – for its simplicity, its brevity and its usefulness.
‘What else can we do with this?’ I asked my students.
‘A table cloth,’ Doris suggested. They love table cloths. I have nothing against table cloths, but I was thinking along the lines of something practical, in the likely event that one in Liberia doesn’t have a table.
‘What else?’
Silence.
‘What if I had four balls of twine…’ I said. The wheels started turning in their heads. ‘If I had four balls of twine, we could make floor mats. Something to sit on the floor with.’
They began to nod their heads and it began to make sense to them. I want to get them past the idea that knitting was just to make things for vanity. I want to them to understand that one skill can be adapted for other things.
And then again, it is not about knitting. Knitting is just an excuse to be able to sit with them, talk to them, encourage them and love them. It opens them up, stirs up excitement and builds a bridge between languages, continents, oceans and lands. It is a very simple way to tell them a very simple truth:
You are valuable. You are unique and one of a kind. You have a purpose. You are no accident.You have a Creator who loves you very much.
‘What else can we do with this?’ I asked my students.
‘A table cloth,’ Doris suggested. They love table cloths. I have nothing against table cloths, but I was thinking along the lines of something practical, in the likely event that one in Liberia doesn’t have a table.
‘What else?’
Silence.
‘What if I had four balls of twine…’ I said. The wheels started turning in their heads. ‘If I had four balls of twine, we could make floor mats. Something to sit on the floor with.’
They began to nod their heads and it began to make sense to them. I want to get them past the idea that knitting was just to make things for vanity. I want to them to understand that one skill can be adapted for other things.
And then again, it is not about knitting. Knitting is just an excuse to be able to sit with them, talk to them, encourage them and love them. It opens them up, stirs up excitement and builds a bridge between languages, continents, oceans and lands. It is a very simple way to tell them a very simple truth:
You are valuable. You are unique and one of a kind. You have a purpose. You are no accident.You have a Creator who loves you very much.
01 September 2008
Students
Knitting class on the ward consists of three main students who are all Liberian medical dayworkers. By teaching Zoe, Doris and Lucy, my goal is to leave something that will remain here long after I leave.
Lucy is like my Liberian mother. I will write more on her later, because she and my relationship with her is a whole blog entry unto itself. We have developed a great bond and whenever she is working, I make time to see her. She is originally from Nigeria and the mother of four children. She has a nursing degree from Nigeria and is well read and quite educated.
Doris is a comic. She is the mother of a toddler and a little baby girl. I recently met her husband and his boss when they visited the ship. A sharply dressed fellow, her husband smiled from ear to ear when I thanked him for welcoming me to his country. Initially leery of me, she took a while to warm up to, but now we have the greatest laughs.
Zoe is the sensitive one. She is shy, kind, and pensive. Nonetheless, she has a wicked sense of humor, though it is usually Doris who brings that out in her. She is also the most productive of the three and recently completed a beautiful wallet that I helped her make out of some nice deep red wine Rowan Nice yarn. It closes with a snap button.
She told me that others don’t believe that she made it. I ask her if she believes she was able to do it and said no. Still, I said, you did it. She smiles. I ask her when she will use the wallet and just any woman would do she smiled and said, ‘Next Tuesday. I have a really fine skirt to go with it.’
Lucy is like my Liberian mother. I will write more on her later, because she and my relationship with her is a whole blog entry unto itself. We have developed a great bond and whenever she is working, I make time to see her. She is originally from Nigeria and the mother of four children. She has a nursing degree from Nigeria and is well read and quite educated.
Doris is a comic. She is the mother of a toddler and a little baby girl. I recently met her husband and his boss when they visited the ship. A sharply dressed fellow, her husband smiled from ear to ear when I thanked him for welcoming me to his country. Initially leery of me, she took a while to warm up to, but now we have the greatest laughs.
Zoe is the sensitive one. She is shy, kind, and pensive. Nonetheless, she has a wicked sense of humor, though it is usually Doris who brings that out in her. She is also the most productive of the three and recently completed a beautiful wallet that I helped her make out of some nice deep red wine Rowan Nice yarn. It closes with a snap button.
She told me that others don’t believe that she made it. I ask her if she believes she was able to do it and said no. Still, I said, you did it. She smiles. I ask her when she will use the wallet and just any woman would do she smiled and said, ‘Next Tuesday. I have a really fine skirt to go with it.’
30 August 2008
Crazy or divine
Its official! I have been made a part-time counselor/teacher on the ward. Aside from my full time job as Assistant Purser, I will be spending Wednesday afternoons and Friday mornings on the ward in order to teach knitting and crocheting. I am thrilled about this! Though I was on the ward after my usual eight to five work hours, I often found myself extremely drained. Now that it is built into my work schedule, I know I will find it much more productive to be down there during the hours when I am actually fresh! Also, it is nice to be out of my uniform. Additionally, I love that my work bag consists of knitting needles to give away, yarn, scissors, yarn needles and crochet hooks.
Incidentally, there was a ‘thank you’ party last week for all the part-time ward teachers. I didn’t know what to expect, but upon arrival, I was greeted with cheers and applause. It was wonderful to feel appreciated.
People signed a card for me. I didn't know that many nurses were aware of what I was doing.
When I arrived in Liberia, no one was informed of my intentions to teach knitting. In fact, back at home, I think the idea was received with some amusement towards the idea of knitting in such a hot place as Africa. However, I knew that was the thing that God impressed upon my heart to do here. In looking back at the process of introducing knitting to the ward during my stay, I see how He has just opened door after door. I arrived with very few materials, none of them to really give away, and now I have more than I can handle. First, our managing director’s wife, gave me her stash of knitting needles – over 100 pairs – as well as some yarn that had been tucked away deep in a closet. Then, I ordered some more materials over the internet and had it delivered here. I was worried about the crew mail fees, but through the generosity of my donors, I was able to afford the delivery. Then, more yarn came through friends who have sent it via crew mail. Then, I received permission from the ward supervisors and charge nurses to teach knitting whenever I wanted. As patients started seeing other patients with completed cell phone bags, hair ties and purses, the idea just took off. Every time a Maersk container ship sails into port, I smile to myself. I know that when they open the Mercy Ships container, someone from somewhere will have had some crazy idea to put some yarn in a box and send it to the ward at the m/v Africa Mercy. As of now, there is a huge box of scrap yarn sitting in D ward for use.
But as you can tell, sometimes the craziest ideas are the most divine ones.
Incidentally, there was a ‘thank you’ party last week for all the part-time ward teachers. I didn’t know what to expect, but upon arrival, I was greeted with cheers and applause. It was wonderful to feel appreciated.
People signed a card for me. I didn't know that many nurses were aware of what I was doing.
When I arrived in Liberia, no one was informed of my intentions to teach knitting. In fact, back at home, I think the idea was received with some amusement towards the idea of knitting in such a hot place as Africa. However, I knew that was the thing that God impressed upon my heart to do here. In looking back at the process of introducing knitting to the ward during my stay, I see how He has just opened door after door. I arrived with very few materials, none of them to really give away, and now I have more than I can handle. First, our managing director’s wife, gave me her stash of knitting needles – over 100 pairs – as well as some yarn that had been tucked away deep in a closet. Then, I ordered some more materials over the internet and had it delivered here. I was worried about the crew mail fees, but through the generosity of my donors, I was able to afford the delivery. Then, more yarn came through friends who have sent it via crew mail. Then, I received permission from the ward supervisors and charge nurses to teach knitting whenever I wanted. As patients started seeing other patients with completed cell phone bags, hair ties and purses, the idea just took off. Every time a Maersk container ship sails into port, I smile to myself. I know that when they open the Mercy Ships container, someone from somewhere will have had some crazy idea to put some yarn in a box and send it to the ward at the m/v Africa Mercy. As of now, there is a huge box of scrap yarn sitting in D ward for use.
But as you can tell, sometimes the craziest ideas are the most divine ones.
27 August 2008
Getting unstuck
This blog entry is dedicated to my fellow Los Angelenos and my Californian Governor who have a love for military vehicles and SUVs driven on perfectly paved roads, here is the real reason why they were invented ...
... for rainy days that turn dirt into mud on the roads on the way to a Mercy Ships building site...
And just how many people does it take to get a Land Rover unstuck?
Apparently one Aussie (Karl) and five Liberians!
... for rainy days that turn dirt into mud on the roads on the way to a Mercy Ships building site...
And just how many people does it take to get a Land Rover unstuck?
Apparently one Aussie (Karl) and five Liberians!
20 August 2008
Some things never change
The yarn stash seems to grow no matter where I am. But at least now I am not stashing it for myself.
Old habits die hard (but the yarn cannot replace Ester who slept in this bed!)
Old habits die hard (but the yarn cannot replace Ester who slept in this bed!)
19 August 2008
Beautiful
We had a vesico vaginal fistula screening again at the beginning of this month.
VVF patients suffer from fistulas - or punctures, holes, tears- that are in the rectal wall or bladder due to prolonged labor or trauma in the vagina. Often times a woman who is impregnated at an early age before the pelvis has had time to form will suffer from prolonged labor. These women often give birth to stillborn children after having been in prolonged labor for three to ten days. The stress creates these obstetric fistulas.
Because they are constantly leaking urine or feces, they become outcasts in society. They not included in society because they smell, because they are seen as failures in the one thing that will give them validation in their society - to be a mother.
We have about twenty of these VVF ladies in the ward right now. Last Sunday, during ward church service, two of them were sent home because they had been cured. Dressed in a beautiful new gown, Mary stood up, she sang a song of worship and started walking outside of the hospital. Where was she going? She wandered out of the ward doors and then took the hands of a big, smiling moustached white man. She held those hands, so precious in her own. They were the hands that cured her. Dr. Steve grinned from ear to ear, a bit embarrassed, but a glimmer of a tear crept up to his eyes. Mary gave thanks to God for what He did through Dr. Steve.
From the last VVF screening, here are some healed and happy ladies. (And my friends Zoe and Doris, Liberian dayworkers - second from left and third from left - whom I have taught how to knit, and are now teaching the VVF patients)
Tonight, there was a screening of A Walk to Beautiful. The movie focuses on three to four VVF patients in Ethiopia who travel at least six hours by foot to the nearest road, then take at least a 15 hour bus journey to the city of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. There, they meet women who have also been left by husbands, rejected in their own homes, and shut out from society. They receive physical healing, but also psychological support. (Incidentally, Dr. Steve also worked at this center for 3 years. He is not in the film, but his dog appears briefly!)
In one scene, a group of women are sitting around knitting. In fact, all of them are swaddled in colorful, garter stitched patchwork blankets. Several of the nurses turned to me during the film and smiled. My roommate Ellen yelled, 'Hey Michelle, have you been there?' To me, it was a small sign that I am in the right place right now. And that kind of 'knowing' is a relief in life, no matter how big or small that what I thought I would be doing here, is what I am really suppose to be doing. And let's not forget, after all, we are 'knitted' in our mothers' wombs!
VVF patients suffer from fistulas - or punctures, holes, tears- that are in the rectal wall or bladder due to prolonged labor or trauma in the vagina. Often times a woman who is impregnated at an early age before the pelvis has had time to form will suffer from prolonged labor. These women often give birth to stillborn children after having been in prolonged labor for three to ten days. The stress creates these obstetric fistulas.
Because they are constantly leaking urine or feces, they become outcasts in society. They not included in society because they smell, because they are seen as failures in the one thing that will give them validation in their society - to be a mother.
We have about twenty of these VVF ladies in the ward right now. Last Sunday, during ward church service, two of them were sent home because they had been cured. Dressed in a beautiful new gown, Mary stood up, she sang a song of worship and started walking outside of the hospital. Where was she going? She wandered out of the ward doors and then took the hands of a big, smiling moustached white man. She held those hands, so precious in her own. They were the hands that cured her. Dr. Steve grinned from ear to ear, a bit embarrassed, but a glimmer of a tear crept up to his eyes. Mary gave thanks to God for what He did through Dr. Steve.
From the last VVF screening, here are some healed and happy ladies. (And my friends Zoe and Doris, Liberian dayworkers - second from left and third from left - whom I have taught how to knit, and are now teaching the VVF patients)
Tonight, there was a screening of A Walk to Beautiful. The movie focuses on three to four VVF patients in Ethiopia who travel at least six hours by foot to the nearest road, then take at least a 15 hour bus journey to the city of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. There, they meet women who have also been left by husbands, rejected in their own homes, and shut out from society. They receive physical healing, but also psychological support. (Incidentally, Dr. Steve also worked at this center for 3 years. He is not in the film, but his dog appears briefly!)
In one scene, a group of women are sitting around knitting. In fact, all of them are swaddled in colorful, garter stitched patchwork blankets. Several of the nurses turned to me during the film and smiled. My roommate Ellen yelled, 'Hey Michelle, have you been there?' To me, it was a small sign that I am in the right place right now. And that kind of 'knowing' is a relief in life, no matter how big or small that what I thought I would be doing here, is what I am really suppose to be doing. And let's not forget, after all, we are 'knitted' in our mothers' wombs!
15 August 2008
Not For Sale
An article in a local newspaper was published a couple weeks ago stating that Mercy Ships was buying kidneys illegally stolen from victims of brutal killings. This, of course, couldn't be further from the truth. There have been victims lately who have slain and had their kidneys stolen, but most of this is for Satanic or tribal cult activity, and not for Mercy Ships operations!
On the day the article was published, our Liberian dayworkers were quite dismayed. Cecelia expressed her sadness and anger towards her own people -- that a Liberian would incriminate an organization that has come to offer free aide to her country without any obligation attached, was beyond her. All day long, I saw her head hung low as she worked to clean the ship dutifully. In a country where literacy is so low, heresay becomes gospel. For those who trust in the government, there is almost too much trust in the printed word and the trust is naive. It seems that others who have no power, decide to stir up trouble just to gain some.
Nonetheless, the article did a fair amount of damage. In the past week, some crew have been the object of insults as they passed by in Mercy Ships vehicles. Others have been the object of light mocking on the streets. Some crew members have been approached with offers of kidney sales. For example, a week ago, a child approached one of our Eye Team members with the proposition of selling a kidney from his uncle. Unbeknownst to the child, there was a police officer in line to have his eyes checked. After being turned down by our team, the officer followed this child back to his home whereupon his uncle produced retarded child and offered up this child's kidneys. This uncle was arrested, but I don't know the results of his jurisdiction.
Today, the Minister of Health of Liberia made a special visit to the ship. We called all the crew members together. He thanked us for our service, acknowledging that we are here to do free services, of our free will, paying our own way by our own money or others, and that we work hard to do it. And all this, he said, was 'a manifestation of our Christian witness.' He expressed that alot of people are interested in destruction versus healing. That as a nation comes out of war, some people simply do not want to change. (And isn't it true that destruction is always easier anyway? There is always a false sense of power when we are destroying something). In a sort of funny way, his Deputy also got up and apologized and thanked us, and said that some Liberians are 'out of whack.' Approximately five reporters were there and they took a quick tour of the hospital to verify that, yes, indeed we healing patients in the wards.
Cecelia was cleaning the stairs today again. I said hello to her, asked her how she was doing. She told me she was so happy that the minister came today. I give glory to God, she said, and she hopes that Liberia would understand that these are all nothing but petty lies.
On the day the article was published, our Liberian dayworkers were quite dismayed. Cecelia expressed her sadness and anger towards her own people -- that a Liberian would incriminate an organization that has come to offer free aide to her country without any obligation attached, was beyond her. All day long, I saw her head hung low as she worked to clean the ship dutifully. In a country where literacy is so low, heresay becomes gospel. For those who trust in the government, there is almost too much trust in the printed word and the trust is naive. It seems that others who have no power, decide to stir up trouble just to gain some.
Nonetheless, the article did a fair amount of damage. In the past week, some crew have been the object of insults as they passed by in Mercy Ships vehicles. Others have been the object of light mocking on the streets. Some crew members have been approached with offers of kidney sales. For example, a week ago, a child approached one of our Eye Team members with the proposition of selling a kidney from his uncle. Unbeknownst to the child, there was a police officer in line to have his eyes checked. After being turned down by our team, the officer followed this child back to his home whereupon his uncle produced retarded child and offered up this child's kidneys. This uncle was arrested, but I don't know the results of his jurisdiction.
Today, the Minister of Health of Liberia made a special visit to the ship. We called all the crew members together. He thanked us for our service, acknowledging that we are here to do free services, of our free will, paying our own way by our own money or others, and that we work hard to do it. And all this, he said, was 'a manifestation of our Christian witness.' He expressed that alot of people are interested in destruction versus healing. That as a nation comes out of war, some people simply do not want to change. (And isn't it true that destruction is always easier anyway? There is always a false sense of power when we are destroying something). In a sort of funny way, his Deputy also got up and apologized and thanked us, and said that some Liberians are 'out of whack.' Approximately five reporters were there and they took a quick tour of the hospital to verify that, yes, indeed we healing patients in the wards.
Cecelia was cleaning the stairs today again. I said hello to her, asked her how she was doing. She told me she was so happy that the minister came today. I give glory to God, she said, and she hopes that Liberia would understand that these are all nothing but petty lies.
13 August 2008
Basic Stitch
Hawa shows me her knitting.
'Is it right?' she asks. 'Its wrong. I will loosen it.'
I look at it. It is the third time she has tried the rib stitch, and as I look at it, I realize there will be a fourth time. I sigh inwardly. Somehow I get the patience to teach her again. I have gone over this many times already and each time she tells me she understands, but the results say something different.
It isn't rocket science. And I'm not saying this because I know how to knit. I am trying to teach her that the stitch needs to alternate. You put the yarn to the front, then to the back, then to the front, then to the back. So on. So forth.
The next day whenever I return, I see front, back, front, back, front, front, back, back. She doesn't see how this is wrong.
What am I doing wrong? We are both asking ourselves this.
She's patient in learning as much as I try to be in teaching.
But today I sat there, teaching her in yet another way, so that she can learn the same thing. This is the second thing I've shown her. The first thing I showed her, I taught her about seven times. At the seventh time, at some point it clicked. It had nothing to do with repetition, mastery or even understanding, I don't think. Just somewhere along the way, she got it.
Several times, when I say, No, that's wrong. She just begins to guess. That shows me that she's not absorbing what I'm teaching her.
I'm learning that when we teach something, we have to use what the person already knows. I suppose that's why Jesus spoke in parables to the fishermen and farmers. But what if the person doesn't know much? What rubric do you go by? I'm uncertain.
The ladies in the ward have big aspirations with knitting. 'We want to make sweaters for the dry season! Hats for the rainy season! Hair ties! Yes!' Yet, I cannot hand them a pattern and go. If I were at home, I could do that, and count on them at least knowing how to do basic math and read. But most of my patients can't read or do basic math. With that, I feel like I can only do some basic things with them.
Still, I see that they are just pleased with a basic stitch. They've made the most interesting things - fold over clutches, hand bands, hair ties. They just enjoy having a purpose, even if it is very small. And as for me, I am happy to teach them. With each woman, it turns into a conversation about something else - their lives, my life, politics, men, babies, God, everything. With Hawa, it has turned into a conversation about perfection, and paying attention.
'You are not reading the stitches, Hawa,' I said. 'You must read it or else it will not be perfect.'
Her big brown eyes are cast to her lap. Her hands folded. Her teeth are clenched and her high cheekbones protude from her face. I hand her her knitting. She takes it, determined. Whispering, I see her smile and say, 'By the grace of God, help me. I will learn this.'
'Is it right?' she asks. 'Its wrong. I will loosen it.'
I look at it. It is the third time she has tried the rib stitch, and as I look at it, I realize there will be a fourth time. I sigh inwardly. Somehow I get the patience to teach her again. I have gone over this many times already and each time she tells me she understands, but the results say something different.
It isn't rocket science. And I'm not saying this because I know how to knit. I am trying to teach her that the stitch needs to alternate. You put the yarn to the front, then to the back, then to the front, then to the back. So on. So forth.
The next day whenever I return, I see front, back, front, back, front, front, back, back. She doesn't see how this is wrong.
What am I doing wrong? We are both asking ourselves this.
She's patient in learning as much as I try to be in teaching.
But today I sat there, teaching her in yet another way, so that she can learn the same thing. This is the second thing I've shown her. The first thing I showed her, I taught her about seven times. At the seventh time, at some point it clicked. It had nothing to do with repetition, mastery or even understanding, I don't think. Just somewhere along the way, she got it.
Several times, when I say, No, that's wrong. She just begins to guess. That shows me that she's not absorbing what I'm teaching her.
I'm learning that when we teach something, we have to use what the person already knows. I suppose that's why Jesus spoke in parables to the fishermen and farmers. But what if the person doesn't know much? What rubric do you go by? I'm uncertain.
The ladies in the ward have big aspirations with knitting. 'We want to make sweaters for the dry season! Hats for the rainy season! Hair ties! Yes!' Yet, I cannot hand them a pattern and go. If I were at home, I could do that, and count on them at least knowing how to do basic math and read. But most of my patients can't read or do basic math. With that, I feel like I can only do some basic things with them.
Still, I see that they are just pleased with a basic stitch. They've made the most interesting things - fold over clutches, hand bands, hair ties. They just enjoy having a purpose, even if it is very small. And as for me, I am happy to teach them. With each woman, it turns into a conversation about something else - their lives, my life, politics, men, babies, God, everything. With Hawa, it has turned into a conversation about perfection, and paying attention.
'You are not reading the stitches, Hawa,' I said. 'You must read it or else it will not be perfect.'
Her big brown eyes are cast to her lap. Her hands folded. Her teeth are clenched and her high cheekbones protude from her face. I hand her her knitting. She takes it, determined. Whispering, I see her smile and say, 'By the grace of God, help me. I will learn this.'
08 August 2008
Eight
Today is a very 'prosperous' day for the Chinese! It is the eighth day of the eighth month in two thousand and eight. And of course eight is a very lucky number in our culture because phonetically it sounds like the word for wealth or prosperity. And to celebrate this, someone decided to throw a huge and awesome international party in Beijing called the Olympics.
The performances of the opening ceremonies so beautifully showcased our Chinese culture. I am so proud to be Chinese, especially today, when amongst three hundred and fifty people I am one of only two Chinese people by heritage and birth. I got tears in my eyes and so much pride in my heart as I watched the opening ceremonies. The hard work and meaning put into everything just reminded me of the rich tradition that I come from. And of course, I was the only person who jumped up and down when Hong Kong came out.
You cannot and should not miss it!
I decided to run out and try and fly my Chinese kite (given to me by the Chinese Embassy in Liberia).
It has been so much fun to watch an international event in an international environment. We had representatives from many of the Olympic countries here on board. The biggest cheers went out to Liberia (current Mercy Ships outreach) and to Benin (Mercy Ships outreach 2009).
I only have two questions:
-- What were the random bagpipes that kept playing in the background?
-- What in the world is the Mandarin alphabet that the countries were coming out in the order of? Huh?
The performances of the opening ceremonies so beautifully showcased our Chinese culture. I am so proud to be Chinese, especially today, when amongst three hundred and fifty people I am one of only two Chinese people by heritage and birth. I got tears in my eyes and so much pride in my heart as I watched the opening ceremonies. The hard work and meaning put into everything just reminded me of the rich tradition that I come from. And of course, I was the only person who jumped up and down when Hong Kong came out.
You cannot and should not miss it!
I decided to run out and try and fly my Chinese kite (given to me by the Chinese Embassy in Liberia).
It has been so much fun to watch an international event in an international environment. We had representatives from many of the Olympic countries here on board. The biggest cheers went out to Liberia (current Mercy Ships outreach) and to Benin (Mercy Ships outreach 2009).
I only have two questions:
-- What were the random bagpipes that kept playing in the background?
-- What in the world is the Mandarin alphabet that the countries were coming out in the order of? Huh?
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