Blog 2
I am starting to love cold showers, crispy clean clothes right off the line, laughing cow cheese (oddly enough the only form of cheese to make it to northern Congo), jempy (a cheap knock off Nutella sort of spread) and bike rides to work where I dodge street goats, high five kids and say bonjour and mbote more than I can count. I love seeing these amazing patients get better against all odds, I love the nurses at this hospital, the potential they have and the willingness to learn despite very little training or nursing instruction and difficult work situations, and I am truly inspired by the smallgroup of missionaries that have sacrificed all they could have back home in order to help the people here in whatever way they can. I never tire of how beautiful it is here, the river right along the road on the way to the hospital, the beauty in the simplicity of a mud house, how the children respond with nothing but pure happiness to a few acts of kindness or silliness, and how when I go running I am accompanied at random times by a group of giggling and smiling kids that despite often having worked all day will run as much as they can just for fun. I love the Aka Villagers, going on forest walks with them and how excited they are to share their knowledge of the forest they call home. I love that a typical sat night here can be camping with the Akas, teaching them to roast marsh mellows and showing an Aka Coco (grandma) who has had a little too much to drink how to fist pump to the song "Don't Stop Believing" as she tries to mimic all my English words. I really love my bike basket.
I hate suffering, hunger, lack of accessible or effective education, and lack of hospital supplies. I hate that the nurses have to reuse supplies we would never reuse back home because the patients or the hospital can't afford to buy more, I hate that if the hospital runs out of things like certain meds or IV catheters the family has to run into town to a sketchy pharmacy to buy one and run back in order to get their loved one the treatment they need. (Talk about pressure to start an IV!) It kills me that somedays I am so busy and there are so many sick people and no other nurses that I am just not able to give the type of care that everyone deserves. I hate that some of my nurse friends live in fear
danger or being forced to return to the DRC due to discrimination, bullying and corruptness. I really HATE Mosquitos.... I already thought they were terrible little creatures and now seeing first hand the rampant disease they cause only accentuates my dislike. I hate that sickness, pain and death from malaria are so common here it almost becomes an expected part of life.
My heart is just broken by the fact that my friend Amitee (the boy I talked about in my 1st blog and how he was making a remarkable recovery) died on a Monday morning because he aspirated over the weekend and the nurses didn't know to inform the doctors or know how to appropriately assess/treat respiratory distress. It was hard to accept that no matter what we did that morning, with the resources there is available, it was just too late. The other day I saw a grandma take her small grandchild that had just passed away and lovingly wrap the body on her back and carry him away from the hospital
with mental strength that could probably move mountains. It would be hard to describe the emotions I had when I first realized that when patients die the family carries them out of the hospital in a wheelbarrow sort of apparatus as most people do not have vehicles. I remember standing by the door of the ER watching someone push the wheelbarrow towards me saying to myself... "Tell me that's not what they are going use." I hate that sometimes the parents wait so long to bring their children into the hospital because they choose to rely on other methods first that when they do arrive the kids are so advanced in the disease process they often pass away despite all of the hospitals efforts.
The other day I was trying to describe my wildly conflicting emotions here. Somedays you wake up just loving Africa, the people, the work that you are doing and the patients you get to meet. Somedays I ride my bike to the hospital filled with smiles, laughs and waves. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and everyone gets a smiley Mbote from the Mondeli. Other days I wake up just feeling frustrated at the government, injustice, discrimination, lack of supplies because of corruptness, and the work that needs to be done because the people here in power can't take responsibility for their own. Rides to work on these days are a little less wavey and Miss Impfondo like and a little more serious. I curse the heat for being so relentless while I'm pouring with sweat, the chickens are all in my way and I want to give the bird to every policeman and government official that calls me a Mondeli.
There are many challenges here but there are also so many successes, inspirations and each and every sick patient that we fight for is a reason to stay. The other day was such a great day. I had taken the day off of work and sat underneath a tree outside the hospital finishing a few little projects I have been working on. A patient named "double" who is a diabetic with no family and only 1 leg came and sat with me, we were then joined by another patients mom and a deaf Congolese women. We sat
in the grass, listened to country music and had a wildly comical conversation with French, Lingala,
African sign language and bit of charades. It is times like this where you are allowed to take a step
back and see the absolute gems that are surrounding every difficult situation and obstacle. The
amazing thing about this place is the genuine beauty that is lying in the midst of so many challenges. The people are real, the strength is incredible and the beauty in all of this is actually quite breath taking.
