A Two Way Street

Many times, in conversations with people who have not lived overseas, I hear the same words/ sentiment expressed – Jim and Dawn, it is so great that you are living in Africa. You have so much to teach people about God, about medical stuff, and about community development. It must be a hard job- trying to bring people out of the dark ages in regard to knowledge.

Honestly, it would make me frustrated, except that I have to confess that, at first, I had a bit of the same sentiment. And when I am not careful, it can creep back in. There are nuggets of truth in that idea. Certainly, as Christians, we have walked with Jesus for many years and have learned a lot of lessons (and are STILL learning) on trust and what God is doing in our lives that we are anxious to share with people.

And medically, most of what I find here in the village is about 100 years behind where we are in the US right now. So we ARE thankful that God has allowed us to grow up where we did, and that He brought us here – for such a time as this. We believe that here are things that we can share with people here that will improve their lives- be it mentally, physically, or spiritually. And we are thankful for this opportunity.

On the other hand, the longer we live here with our friends, we realize the vast amount that they have to teach us about living in community and trust in God and sharing, etc. Let me give you some examples.

TIME – People here are MUCH better about taking time for each other than anyone else that we have EVER seen. Going to visit people is huge here and they think nothing of sitting for a LONG time, chatting or just sitting in silence as a way of being with someone else. Frankly, this is something that I am NOT good at. Usually I have a big list of things that I want to accomplish, and while, I am happy to go out and say hi, after about 5 minutes, I want to be done. I am working to take more time with people.

This is something that Jim is MUCH better at than me. Perhaps because of his personality, or perhaps because he is a faster learned than I am, he has realized the value of taking time with people. Every morning, he enjoys sitting on the porch with the 2 believers here, chatting and drinking coffee and visiting with anyone else who wanders up to the porch. He will go and sit for hours at a funeral or meeting – that would drive me insane. But he is great at it! Honestly, (confession time) for me to feel good about spending long amounts of time with people, I have to write it on my list of things to get done. :^(

TOGETHERNESS – In the US, we seem to value time alone. That is not something that is sought after here much. Perhaps that is a village thing – their whole lives are such a constant jumble of people in and out that there is rarely a moment alone. We might go out into the woods to get away. Here, if you see someone sitting on a bench by themselves, you go and sit with them, so that they will not be alone. Rarely do they just sit around by themselves. I saw a great example of this on my porch a few months ago.

On many days, the daily crowd was getting out of control. On days like Thursday, it is not uncommon to have 50 people waiting out there. People were getting loud and arguing over who would be seen first. So we decided to take the benches where people sit, and put them out in the yard, giving me some distance from the crowd. One bench was left on the porch, and the system is that the child that I am seeing and their parent, and the next patient in line, are allowed to sit there. Everyone else is supposed to be on the benches in the yard.

For the most part, this works okay, and they have just accepted it as one of the MANY strange things that I do. But often, when a sick person comes, several people come with them –to walk them to the house and to be with them. When that patient is called, EVERYONE who has a vested interest in the patient wants to come to the bench – which results in a small crowd, defeating the purpose of the benches in the yard. When I explain that only the patient and the parent should come, they give me kind of an odd look, like, Why would you do that? You want them to have to sit there alone?

Recently I saw a little boy who had a cut on his head. I bandaged it and told him to come back the next day. The next day arrived and he showed up with 2 little friends. They dutifully sat on the bench in the yard, and when I called his name, they each grabbed a hand and walked him up to me. They sat there quietly when I looked at him and put medicine on, and then quietly grabbed his hands and walked him home. (I was not really paying attention to the whole thing as I had a porch full of people but Jim watched it transpire and said it was just the sweetest thing to watch. These little guys chose to take the time to sit with their injured friend when they could have been out playing. Jim said it was a good reminder for him to take time for people).

Frankly, the togetherness aspect usually works in my favor with medical issues. Like all of us, when a new idea is introduced, it often takes several times of hearing it for it to take root. So, when I am giving instructions on the porch, I have a captive audience of people hearing what I am saying (since they usually study me intensely, trying to see what I am doing). It hit me several months back that I have a GREAT opportunity to teach many people at one time. Here is an example…..

One thing that usually scares people to death here during an illness is that the sick person won’t eat. And here, by eat, they mean consume mass amounts of rice in a sitting – twice a day. So, when they bring me a sick kid, they will often say, He won’t eat anything. Usually, with questioning, I find out that the child is drinking water and eating bread or maybe crackers or porridge.

So, when I give them the medicine, I add the following teaching – you know, often people get scared when a sick person doesn’t eat a lot. But when you don’t feel well, you don’t usually like to eat a lot. So, even if this child is not willing to eat a lot of rice, if he is drinking well and eating porridge and bread and bananas and crackers, that is SO great. And as they start to feel better, they will want to eat. So I don’t want you to worry. If the medicine is done, and they are still not eating well, you bring them back. (This rarely happens).

Of course, as I am telling the parents this, I usually have 5 – 20 other sets of ears taking in the information as well. Also, when I go to visit new moms, I talk with them about breastfeeding, and since a new mom is never at home by herself, several other women are getting the same teaching!

SHARING/GIFTS – Our friends here seem to be very good at sharing. Even if they are short on food, if someone comes to visit, there is ALWAYS an invitation to come and eat. If you have company, they always get the best choices. If you have something that someone needs more than you do, you share. That is partially why you see half built houses all over the place. When people get enough money to start a house, they try to take it and start building right away because if you have money, and then someone comes along and asks for it, you really should give it to them. But if you quickly buy bricks and put them in the wall of a house, then the money is gone and you are on your way to getting a new place to live. This principle makes getting ahead very difficult in this culture.

We have friends here who want to get ahead, but this principle sometimes makes this hard. For example, we have a friend who borrowed some money to go a buy his wife a present. Later in the day, after the market has gone, I asked him about what he had bought. Well, he said, not as much as I wanted to. You see, my daughter had a fight with her husband and moved back home. They made up, but I had to buy a gift to give to them so that she could go back to her house again. WHAT? REALLY? I was so mad at him, thinking that he had shorted his wife in favor of his daughter, but apparently, culturally, he needed to do that.

Over and over, we see people teaching us the important of putting relationships over other things. The US has a long way to go in this aspect. Usually, we are all so independent that we don’t have a great need for each other. And that is a loss for us. That sometimes translates into our relationship with God. We like to say that we trust Him, but really, I think that sometimes we have more trust in our bank accounts and in the medical system to make things okay. It was a big lesson for me when we moved to Africa.

As a nurse, I had a lot of fears (still do sometimes) that something will happen to my family when we are so far from medical help. But as I thought about it, it made me realize that, in the US, I had a lot more trust in the fact that Lutheran Hospital was sitting 15 minutes away from me with great doctors and a great facility, than I had trust in God to care for us – in whatever way that transpired. Really, every day, no matter where we live, is an exercise in trust for all of us – because God is ultimately in control, not matter what continent we live on.

While I wouldn’t want to be forced to go backwards in time and technology to live like our national friends, there are certain aspects of their lives that they seem more advanced than we are. We have so many lessons to learn from them. What a privileged to have those lessons being lived out in front of us on a daily basis.

It Takes a Village

We have discovered in our time in Africa that family relationships have a whole new meaning here. I suppose it has something to do with the generally close proximity that families live to each other. Most kids grow up with numerous extended family members within a 5 minute walk. The villagers here don’t seem a bit confused by how everyone is connected, but frankly, it confounds me.

One problem is that we rarely see a father, mother, and all of their children together in one place. And who they call their children may not be someone who was born between a husband and wife. Namesakes can be called kids, as well as nieces and nephews. An aunt might be called a small mom and an uncle a small dad.

I can’t tell you how many times this has happened to me – someone will come to my porch asking for help with money. I will say to them, why don’t you go ask your father? He is dead, they will reply. Okay, what about your mother? She is dead too, is the answer. We go through the whole line – this person will appear to be an orphan. But the following week or month, they will come to me and say – did you hear that my dad (or mom) died? What??? I thought you didn’t have any parents left. Oh, they will say, this was my small dad, (or my small mom) that died! Um….okay.

Kids are often left in the care of grandparents. Many times it is grandpa or grandma who brings a sick child to me. Because women give birth in later years, I try to clarify – is this your child or your grandchild? Sometimes they think that is really funny – other times they act offended. Sometimes they seem really irritated that I can’t figure out who goes with whom. This week a woman said – Don’t you know that she is my grandkid? Sorry, not so much. I am trying so hard to figure out how everyone fits together….

Then you add to the mix wives and co-wives and it gets even more confusing. (On a sad note, the word for co-wife is, at least to my toddler ears, suspiciously close to the word for bucket, okra, and broom – so as a general rule I try to avoid saying it – in an effort to not embarrass someone – myself included! When referring to a co-wife, I say, you know, your husband’s other wife….)

Another interesting family dynamic is that children here belong to the husband. As it has been explained to me (here is your birds and bees lesson – Yalunka style), the man simply implants the entire baby into the woman and she is kind of just the incubator. Therefore, if a child is born out of wedlock – or a woman leaves her husband and returns to her family, the kids stay with dad – as long as they are weaned. They are his property.

Another issue we face is that many people have the same names here. So it is confusing to figure out who someone is referring to. They will be talking about someone and say – you know, Fanta. Since I know about 15 Fantas in town I need more to help me clarify it. So they will say something like – you know, Fanta, the one with the yellow husband who fell out of the tree the other week and broke his leg. Oh, that one……. We personally have names for people so we can tell them apart – we have Bread Foday, White Ali, Nice Teeth Kuta, Peanut Sana, etc. It is simply a way for us to clarify who is who. The villagers don’t have the same problem with us – since we are the only white people around.

I do love to see the interaction between people and it is so great for kids to grow up in close relationships with their families. Now if I could just plot everyone on a family tree……

BYOB

Now, before you report me to the powers that be, this does NOT stand for Bring your own Beer…. Lately I have been reflecting on the life we live here in Guinea. It is a crazy place, I have to say. And I am always amazed by the communal aspect of village living. Everything is shared. I guess, then, I should not be surprised when I am called on to give out of my supplies…..

When I go to baby deliveries, I now carry baby blankets (BYOB – Bring your own blanket). After the baby is born and washed, there rarely seems to be a clean cloth to wrap them in. I spent months being frustrated about this fact – it is NOT like a delivery sneaks up on you – typically there are many months to prepare and 8 -12 hours of labor to locate a clean cloth. But alas, it is a battle that I often lose, so instead of being frustrated, I just take my own.

At my own house, things are worse. I had a young boy arrive recently with a smashed foot. Sadly, he got injured out in the bush (a piece of wood fell on his foot, smashing the 2 smallest toes – completely exposing the bones) so he was forced to walk to town and then, because the injury looked so bad, everyone was afraid to wash it.

So they brought him many miles away to me. By the time he arrived, the mud/blood was ground in and caked on and dried. I tried and tried to scrub it clean, but to no avail. Finally I decided that I needed to soak it. I couldn’t find my normal soaking container so I took off my gloves, washed my hands, went inside, and started going through my Tupperware. I finally found one that would work. I was reluctant to sacrifice it, but what could I do. The whole time I was muttering under my breath – you know, doctors in America don’t have to give up their Tupperware (if you read my blog posting about containers, you will know that they are important to me).

That is not the only thing to go out of my house. I use my aluminum foil to wrap medicine and send home ointment for dressings. My vinegar is used to make a medicinal wash for women. My precious Karo syrup is used for cough syrup and constipation for babies. Vegetable oil is used to soften ear wax. When I run out of a particular medicine for the village, I usually dig into our family stash to fill the need. I have ripped up sheets to make splints and sacrificed pillows for transport of an accident victim.

When I have sick people who are not eating, I will give them oatmeal (this is NOT as much a sacrifice as I think that oatmeal as a cereal is disgusting – though it is NOT bad in monster cookies…..) and milk powder and sugar. For people with colds, I give them mint tea. Old socks are used to cover feet dressings and many times I have had to dig through my kid’s closets to get a shirt or pair of underwear or something for a patient. I also pass out Q-tips to apply medicine in the mouth.

Occasionally I feel crabby about this aspect of village life. But usually something happens to change my perspective. Someone will show up with a pan of rice, or peanuts, or a chicken to say thank you for helping them. They will bless me over and over and tell people how much we did for them. They come by to say thank you and somehow that makes it better. I think it really is more blessed to give than to receive.

Eavesdropping

Have you ever overheard someone talking about you? It happens to us all the time. People in general are intrigued by tubabus (white people) and discuss us at great length. If they talk about us in French, English, or Krio, we can often understand them –though many times they don’t realize that – especially if they are not used to being around us. They talk about our kids and they talk about what we eat and what we wear. When I am in town, learning how to cook like a Yalunka woman, they stop by and talk among themselves about what I am learning – usually very pleased that I am trying.

On the porch, with my medical work, I hear lots of things. Sometimes it makes me crazy. The rule (laid down by the health care worker who is over this area) is that I am not allowed to see adults unless they have been seen somewhere else first. The goal is to NOT hand out free medical treatment to EVERYONE– in an effort to encourage people to finish the clinic built here in the village that is almost done. This clinic will, in turn, benefit lots of people – whether we are here or away.

People seem to understand that I can’t treat adults – and are not offended by it, until it applies to their family. Then they think that I should make an exception – just this once. And they promise to not tell a soul that they received treatment with me. Shhhhh….. Of course, I say no, I am so sorry, I can’t help you. But if you go to a hospital and get treatment and are not better, then please feel free to come back with your papers and I will see what I can do.

That starts the talking…… She won’t help people, they say. Only kids, they mutter. We don’t understand why she won’t help…. they exclaim. Her medicine is good and she won’t give it to us… they complain. They are usually talking among themselves, but loud enough for me to hear. It is always hard for me. I spend so many hours treating patients, and yet, they fuss when I have to say no. I know that none of the hundreds of other people I have treated that month means anything to them when they have a desperately sick relative who needs help. So I do get it. But I still hate it when they talk like that.

Sometimes I don’t understand what they are saying. A while back, I heard them talking about me. They said, Gulunga’s hinnana is BIG. Everyone was agreeing – yes, they said, it is really big. Okay, I admit I was a little self-conscious. I had NO idea what a hinnana was – but I wasn’t sure it was a compliment. I finally got the courage to ask a more experienced missionary.

So, I said, I have this friend with a big hinnana – what do you think about that? Okay, actually, I didn’t. I said, So, I heard a new word the other day and I don’t know what it means. Then I confessed that people had been using it in reference to me. I waited in fear….. Turns out it is okay. Hinnana is compassion – so it is okay to have a big one. :^)

Yesterday, my eavesdropping netted me a huge smile. I was seeing a patient from another village – a girl who is around 10 years old and has been sick for several weeks. As I questioned the mom, I asked why she had waited so long to seek treatment. She informed me that she had bought medicine from the market but that it didn’t help. My friend was sitting beside her and looked at me as soon as the mom said that – knowing what was coming……. I took a deep breath and started in on my speech… here is the gist of it:

You know, those people who sell medicine in the market are SUCH nice people and they have good hearts, but they are NOT doctors (here I jump over the fact that I am also not a doctor – a fact that seems lost on everyone here….). Many of them can’t read and when you get medicine from them, you will probably just waste your money and your child won’t get better, or worse, your child could die because they gave the wrong medicine or too much of it. So, the next time your child is sick, please save your money and go to a clinic or come here to see me.

I finished my speech and continued assessing the little girl. I headed inside to get the medicine she needed. And I heard my friend on the porch start in on the mom. What Gulunga (me) said was true. You should never go to the market to get medicine for your child. It is a waste of money. All of the moms here in this village know that now. Even if you have an adult and you go and get medicine at the hospital, you should bring the medicine here to Gulunga to look at for you.

At this point, another lady jumped in – Yes, what Sayon (my friend) said about Gulunga is true. And we do bring our medicine here. Why, just last week the chief got sick and went to the hospital and got medicine and then he brought it here to Gulunga and she even took some of it away from him. (She was telling the truth about that. The chief had returned from the hospital with about 15 different medicines, most of which he was not taking properly. So I helped him sort it all out and took a few duplicate medicines away from him until he finished the first round. Apparently word was spreading about that.)

Later, at the end of my work day, I had already said I was done seeing patients when a family drove up from about an hour away. Sayon, one of our believers who often helps me on the porch, BEGGED me to see the kid. I was exhausted and on the verge of getting fussy (okay, perhaps I was a little past being on the verge). Finally I consented, though I was NOT happy about it. I saw the baby, asked all about symptoms, weighed him, and went inside to get medicine.

It sounded like a simple case of malaria – Fever at night with no other major symptoms. I could hear them talking on the porch, and Sayon didn’t seem happy. He was giving the dad a lecture about something he had said or done and I had the feeling I was about to get involved. I went back out to give dad the medicine and explain how to take it. I got finished and the dad spoke up. By the way, I forgot to tell you that the baby also has breasts coming out of his ears. (This is people’s way of explaining that the baby has an ear infection – because most kids are nursing when they get them, they have the idea that breast milk or some part of the breast has fallen into the baby’s ear – and then leaks out – because often there is pus draining from the ear.)

Sayon was looking at me. I was getting fussier. I asked why he didn’t say that at the beginning. He didn’t have an answer. Sayon said, I told him, when you go to the doctor, tell them everything all at once – don’t hide things. At least someone was listening to me. That happens to me all the time. I will dress a wound, and get all finished and then the patient will say Oh, I have another place where pus is coming out too. Or I will put a Band-Aid on a kid’s leg and then the mom will say, did I mentioned that he has been vomiting for 3 days? It makes me insane sometimes – something that the guys well know.

Some days, I tell Jim that I would like to be a fly on the wall and hear what people think about us. Actually, I probably wouldn’t. For now, I shall just content myself with being thankful when I hear my medical instructions being repeated over and over, knowing that those seeds have taken root. And try not to take it to heart when people say less than pleasant things – knowing that they are probably not trying to be mean, just trying to understand the confusing ways of the tubabus.