The last 2 days have been a harsh reminder, that while I am away, life at home goes on. Diana, Jon's sister died suddenly at her home, near Independence, MO. She was loved and will be missed as a wife, mother, grandmother, sister, daughter, and friend. And an incredible genealogist. I am so sorry I am unable to be there with you, Jon. I have tried, but as Christmas is quickly approaching, all the aide workers must be going home for a holiday, as all the flights are full. I can't help but think of a line from a song about Africa...."Do they know it's Christmas time at all?"
We continue our work in the clinic, this Saturday will e our last day, and we will finish in the prison Monday. I have so much respect and admiration for the nurses and Dr. Albert. They work with so few resources. No gloves, except for surgery. Not electricity, so no lights even for surgery because their generator is beyond repair, no latest technology or even "old technology". Just compassion, skill and love for their neighbors. Before we came, the doctor had not been paid for 2 months, and his salary is only a tiny fraction of what you might expect, yet they persevere. It is the Congolese way.
Each day, as we bounce down the road towards the clinic, (Goma is under the shadow of an active volcano which last erupted in 2002) the roads are rough due to the "lava rock". I try to take in the scene before me. Women with dark skin offset by beautiful brightly colored wraps, sitting along the side of the road. babies snuggly wrapped on their mama's backs, while she tried to sell bananas, peanuts, or mangoes. Children walking, playing with a hoop and stick, cheerfully shouting "Muzungu!". Shelters made of old wood, tin metal and plastic sheeting, dot the roadside, nut cannot keep our the daily evening storms of the rainy season. We drive through the gates of the clinic to a sea of dark, beautiful faces, with soulful eyes. "Jambo!" we say, and always there are smiles. For hours they will wait to see the muzungus. Some will be told to come back tomorrow. The babies and small children take priority. We try our best to triage so the sickest have their needs met.
Each day we work through lunch, and we are hungry by the time we eat dinner at 7pm, but we have a wonderful, carb-filled meal waiting for us. The women I see each day are hungry. They ask for food for their children. They are diagnosed with illnesses and prescribed medications, and instructed to "take with food and drink plenty of water", yet most have very little of both. It is my hope that I never forget what it feels like to be hungry for a day, or thirsty because there was no water. As I try to prepare myself for "re-entry" next week, I pray for the people who have too little, and for those of us that have too much.
Mungu adubariki!!
Lisa
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2 comments:
Lisa,
I am so sorry for your loss of Jon's sister. But I am happy to hear from you, I was worrying and you know that is not my nature. I have been praying for you and all that you serve there. I am sure that they will not soon forget the "tall white woman with the big heart".
Lisa,
I, too, was getting a little worried since we hadn't heard from you for a while. I understand it is hard to get to use the internet and very slow going when you do. Jon knows how much you wished to be here with him. All things serve a purpose, don't we know.
It is amazing you quoted a line from that song. I just heard it on a cd yesterday and, of course, thought of you and all the people you have written about. I pray for God's spirit to be with them all. I hope we all here, following your blog, can remember to lift them up in prayer on Christmas Day.
Can't wait to see you next week and hear your stories!
Love you so much, Marcia
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