From soccer to sewing

It was just another day on the soccer field. The boys were all full of energy, gathering around me and my soccer ball to form teams, when I turned and saw a teenage girl walking over. She told me her name was Anna and she would like to join us. Anna proved to be a great soccer player and gave the boys some good competition. She began to come and play with us regularly and taught me a lot. But, a relationship started to form that went far beyond soccer. I could've never imagined all that would unfold after that first soccer game with Anna.


Anna and I first became friends sometime in April. After that first soccer game, she would often see me walking up Savage Square (the street leading to the port where she also happened to live) and would greet me and ask when we were going to play soccer. Initially, our relationship was fairly superficial. We would say hi and chat a little, play our game of soccer, and go home. But, over time, I was able to meet her sister and her niece, learn more of her story, and talk to her about God.

Anna and I in April (on my left)



It wasn't until one of the last weeks in Sierra Leone that Anna and I finally got to have a deep talk about God. We sat down at the end of the dock with our Coke and fried plantains, watching the boats pass by on  the water. We chatted about life for awhile and I finally started asking her questions about her faith. I got to share my story with her, how Jesus had changed my life, and the hope that we can have if we receive him into our lives. I went on to share with her and she agreed that she wanted to pray to receive Christ into her life. It was a really sweet moment and when we said "Amen," there was a big smile across her face. "Anna, you're my sister in Christ now," I told her. "So even if I don't see you again in Sierra Leone, I know I'll see you in heaven."


Anna had gone to a Christian church before, so it wasn't the first time that she had heard the good news about the cross and what Jesus had done to bring her hope....But, I'm not sure that she understood completely up until then that in order to have a personal relationship with Jesus, she had to take the step to receive him into her life. Either way, I was certain that she had prayed sincerely to receive Christ and it made me so happy to see her make that step. I was able to give her a Bible and talk to her a little more and we parted ways.


Not long after, Anna and I were talking and she said "Rebecca, I need you to help me. I don't have any opportunity." It was the first time she had ever asked me for anything. I knew that she had finished high school, but now she was at a place in her life where she was stuck. Both of her parents had died in the war and she was living in a small little shack sleeping on a few pieces of cardboard. She and her sister were sharing the small little space, along with her little niece, just barely scraping by. Anna wanted to start working, but didn't have any additional education or special skills that she could use professionally. I wanted to help her, but I knew I couldn't just give her money. I told her I would talk try to help, but I needed to talk to some friends first. I thought that maybe one of the older day volunteers that I worked with could help her to learn a skill or help her find employment somewhere. I was able to give her some clothes, including a Sierra Leone soccer jersey, which she was really excited about. But, I knew that I could do more to help her. I just prayed that God would show me how.


About a week later, a few friends and I met up with some of the day volunteers for one last trip to the beach. I began to talk to my friend Harry about Anna. He had met her before and I knew he would be a good resource. "Harry, I want to help Anna. She wants to work, but I don't know what she can do." As the words left my mouth, the thought came into my head "Maybe she could become a tailor." A few seconds later, Harry said "What if she learned how to sew and became a tailor." I knew it wasn't a coincidence that we both had the same thought at that moment...God was showing us how to help her. "You have to make sure that it's something she really wants to do first," Harry told me. I agreed and prayed it would all work out.


A few days later, I found Anna and asked her if she would be interested in going to school to be a tailor. She was very excited about the idea and even went with me to visit the tailor where I was having some clothes sewn. They showed her their machines and told her a little bit about the schooling process. I wanted to find a school close by where we could register Anna and she told me that they had a program at BJ, the school down the street where we played soccer.


The next day, Harry met Anna and I at the school and we were able to register her for the tailoring program. The school fees for the program, materials, and uniform for the entire year totaled to a whopping $120. I couldn't believe it! The school officials processed the paperwork and gave me a receipt. Anna's face lit up with a smile from ear to ear. She was going to be a tailor! "So,  she starts in January?" I asked. "Oh no, she'll start next week," the teacher told me. I couldn't believe how smoothly everything had just fallen into place. One day Anna was a 17-year old soccer player feeling that her future looked dim and the next she was on her way to being a tailor.


As we left the school, we stopped to say a prayer for Anna and her future. We walked back to the port and Harry gave Anna his number. "Anna, you have to study hard and do your best because Becca is doing a lot to help you. And if you need anything, just call me. Think of me as your big brother!" I started to tear up a bit. I was so amazed that God had used me to impact Anna's life in such a big way! "Rebecca, I want to bless you," she told me. "Ok, then, you can make me a dress when you finish school," I told her.


It's amazing how God can use us when we open our eyes to see the need around us and step out to do something about it. I look forward to seeing Anna again someday and hearing how God uses her profession to bless others...I know that He has big plans for her life and I'm thankful that I could play one small part in the unfolding of those plans!

Anna and I on the dock during our last week in Freetown



Riding down the river

As the outreach has been winding down, I have began to evaluate the things on my "Sierra Leone Bucket List" that I have yet to do....A few friends had traveled around riding the local boats up the river and had great experiences, so I had made up my mind that I would add that to my list of things to do before I leave the country until I had my own boat adventure.


It was my last night working on the ward and several of my patients were going to be discharged the following day, so I was giving lots of hugs and saying my goodbyes. Then, it dawned on me that Abas, one of our long-term plastics patients who happens to be a fisherman, was heading to his village back up the river the following day. I asked if he would mind bringing me along with him to ride up the river and see his village. "Of course you can come," he responded excitedly. We talked about the details of the trip and made a plan for the following day. I was happy to take the journey with just Abas, but knew it would be more fun to bring some friends along. I told my roommate Mekenzie about my plans for the boat adventure and her face lit up. Kenzie is always up for a good adventure and she has a great appreciation for African culture, so I knew she'd be a great person to have along. I would've been completely satisfied to have just one friend along, but I was pleasantly surprised when my friends Karin and Lindsay asked if they could also join us.

The next day, Abas' son arrived at the ship in the late morning and we all set off for our adventure, not sure what to expect, but certain that it would be a great African adventure. We jumped into a poda-poda and were happily on our way. After about ten minutes, we stopped at the police station. Apparently, the driver of the poda didn't have a license. "That's why we like traveling in boats. We will not have problems with police on the river," Abas muttered with irriation in his voice.

We found a taxi and made our way to the ferry dock. It was much more run down than the dock where we usually take the ferry across to the airport. We passed through the rubble and tried to avoid the calls of the men hanging out on the dock, holding tightly to our belongings as we passed. We paid our fees, took our life jackets (which we were surprised to receive) and found a place among the many passengers that were already inside the boat. We had a fairly comfortable ride sitting on the edge of the boat as we traveled across the water to Lungi, our first stop. When we got to Lungi, we were greeted by several of Abas' family members. Abas and his sister broke out into tears over their joy in being reunited after many months. He made sure that we met his family members and lots of other friends that he had there. We were eager to get on the next boat, as four white girls was attracting a lot of attention. We finally were told that our boat had arrived as Mekenzie was turning down a marriage proposal. Relieved, we started walking towards the boat.

Next thing we knew, we were all being picked up off the ground by the passenger-carrying men. Since there was no dock, these men are hired to carry the passengers to the boats. But, instead of asking if we wanted to be carried across the water, they literally swept us off our feet (though we still weren't agreeing to any marriage proposals!) and carried us to the boat. We managed to find space amidst the people and luggage in the crowded boat and attempted to get comfortable for the ride up the river.

Kenzie being carried to the boat

The ride was long, but beautiful and peaceful. Along the way to Abas' village, we made multiple stops. Sometimes it was to drop off passengers and other times it was to get something to eat. We were all very entertained by the African version of a fast food "drive-in window." They would pull the boat up along the side of the village dock, as a bunch of people rushed out, carrying platters of fish, fried plantains, and other African foods. Passengers would quickly hand their money out the side of the boat in exchange for the African delicacies and a few minutes later we would be back on our way.

Karin & Kenzie in our crowded boat

Lindsay and I on the other side of the boat

It seemed that Abas had a friend in every single village we visited along the way. He would point to the person and wave, then point to us and say "Mercy Ships" and show off his new shoulder with a smile from ear to ear. There were A LOT of stops along the way, but it was really nice seeing other parts of Sierra Leone that I'd never seen before.

Abas was very excited for the trip home

By the time we were nearing the village next to Port Loco where Abas lives, it was dark and the only light that remained was the light coming from a nearby mine. We made it to the village and were taken to Abas' home. He had not told his family that he was coming home, so they were all very surprised and excited to see him! They sat the four of us down on benches and for several long moments, they all just stared at us. Later we learned that most of the children had never seen white people. Instead of pointing and shouting "apoto, apoto" like most of the kids in Sierra Leone tend to do, they just sat and stared at us with wide eyes.

We struggled to communicate with the people, as most of them spoke Temne instead of Krio. Abas was walking around the village with other long-lost friends and we sat there awkwardly, not sure what to do next. Then a woman came along named Kadiatu. She was a pregnant momma, very lively, and our saving grace. She was able to speak Krio and Temne, so we were able to communicate with her quite well. Kadiatu decided to sing a Temne song for us and all the people standing there joined in. Next thing we knew, we were singing a Krio song for them! The songs continued back and forth for about twenty minutes and the awkwardness was broken. The children were smiling and laughing and we were enjoying every minute of it. Music always has a way of bringing people together! That night, the four of us snuggled into one small bed and I said a prayer that the giant spider on the wall wouldn't attack us in the middle of the night! Thankfully, it was gone in the morning and we were all ok!

Kadiatu and myself in the village

The next morning, we were happy to see that the first thing that Abas did was get out his supplemental Promod drink for his wound healing. But, he decided he needed to let his friends try the drink as well....Next thing you know, they were all taking shots of Promod from his medicine cup. TIA. We all got a good laugh at that sight. 

We were given a tour of the village and they showed us how they make palm oil using small boat for the process. One of the women also showed us a plant that they use to treat malaria. It's kind of amazing how much they do with all of the natural resources that God has provided!

Later that morning, our okadas (motorcycle taxis) arrived and we started our journey back to the ship. It was supposed to be a shorter journey by land, but it turned out to be almost 6 hours (nearly as long as the boat ride)...the trip started on some narrow roads winding through tall grass...definitely more exciting than riding through the city! We made it to the open roads and drove through the beautiful countryside. It reminded me a lot of the trips we had taken upcountry in Togo.

At one point, we had to cross the river in a small boat. There weren't enough seats, so they cut down a palm branch and measured out a new seat for Lindsay right there. It was pretty cool to watch how innovative they are here.

Once we got across, we got into a taxi, which broke down about five minutes into the trip. We got out some cards and started playing a game on the side of the road while we waited for the taxi problems to be resolved. Soon enough, we were back on our way and made it into Waterloo. From there, we took a Poda Poda and finally reached the ship after about six hours of traveling! In spite of all the craziness of our travels, I have to say that it was one of my favorite trips of my time in Sierra Leone and I was thankful I could share it with such great friends!

Making a difference one turtle at a time

It was the day before my birthday and I was thankful for an end to a long stretch of night shifts. I had a couple days off, so I rounded up a few friends and we headed off to Bureh, one of the most beautiful beaches I have visited in Sierra Leone. We were all ready for a fun and relaxing time by the sea. The tents were set up and the hammocks were swaying in the wind. Our dinner of fresh rice and fish lay on the table in front of us as the sun was setting over the horizon. I could already tell it was going to be a great birthday. But, I never could have expected the adventure that was ahead of us that night.

As we were finishing our quiet dinner, one of the guys from the beach rushed over to us and told us they had just caught a turtle in their fishing nets and that we needed to come and see it. We rushed down to the other side of the beach to see what all the excitement was about and were stunned to see a large, nearly 100-kilo Leatherback turtle. The turtle was lying on its back and had blood on its face from where it had been kicked. Most of the villagers didn't seem to have any interest in releasing the turtle. The men were rough with it and some of the older kids were kicking its flippers as it lay helplessly on its back. This was not Sea World. If we wanted to set the turtle free, we were going to have to do more than tell the people that it was a type of turtle that is critically endangered.  One of the friends with me had recently spent time on a place called "Turtle Island" and had learned about some of the endangered turtles. He called a friend who works with a local group to release captured turtles and educate people about endangered species. One of the men took the phone and listened to this man explain that it is illegal to keep this type of turtle. The phone call ended and all the villagers began to discuss.

As we all stood around the turtle, waiting and wondering what the villagers would do, my friend Jess lovingly named the turtle "Nelson" after Nelson Mandela, who fought for his freedom (it turns out the turtle was a female, but we decided to keep the name)...Jess leaned down and tried to sneakily remove the ropes that were holding the turtle's flippers. She pointed to show me what she was doing and put her finger to her lips. I couldn't help but smile at her genuine efforts, knowing that even if we got the ropes off, it wouldn't immediately be free. There was a crowd of at least fifty people surrounding the turtle and it still needed to be flipped over (which would be impossible to do without anyone noticing, seeing as the turtle was so large). And then there was also the slowness factor. Turtles are called turtles for a reason. It was obvious that we wouldn't be able to free Nelson without the consent of the villagers. 

 

After a long discussion and another phone call to the turtle-advocating people, we finally convinced the villagers that it would be best for them to release Nelson, as they could receive very heavy fines for keeping the turtle captive. They agreed to release the turtle, but didn't show a whole lot of enthusiasm about it. Once the decision had been made to set Nelson free, the spectacle that unfolded was a few white people trying to get a very large turtle back to the water with a big crowd of Africans standing around watching. 

Flipping Nelson over



 

It took a couple of attempts to flip Nelson over...after all, the Leatherbacks are the largest turtles in the world! Once Nelson was flipped over, it became even more apparent just how exhausted she was...there was very little motivation to scoot out to sea after all that she had been through. Jess and I decided that she needed a little bit of encouragement, so we started helping to push her to the water from the back. "Come on, Nelson, you can do it!" we yelled (I can just imagine what the Africans were thinking watching two girls trying to push a turtle out to sea and cheering it on like small children ha ha).

A few of the guys joined us and helped us push Nelson along....there was probably about 100 meters that she had to travel to get to the edge of the water. We could feel the muscles under Nelson's shell as she pressed on toward the water. She was tired, but now a little more determined. I think she could sense that we wanted to help her (I'm sure that's just the animal lover in me)...We were all relieved when we finally saw her swim away into the ocean.

I know some of the women were upset that we let the "fine meat" go back to the sea, but in the end, I think the villagers were content with their decision. It is also a relief to know that they have very successful fishing there and that the people there seem to be well-fed. I'm sure they felt that they could've made a good profit off the tourists from the turtle meat, but I can guarantee that none of us would've been buying it! 

I'm sure it seems a little bit silly, but the whole experience of setting Nelson free was somehow exhilarating....I told Jess that I felt like I was in a sequel to the "Free Willy" movies and she agreed that this was better than National Geographic...During all my trips to Bureh Beach this year, I had never once seen a turtle, much less a Leatherback. Our little adventure with Nelson was very special and certainly made it a birthday to remember!

Journey to the far away land of Kono

It was the last day of Tamba Komba's time with Mercy Ships and tears filled his eyes as we said our goodbyes. "We'll try to come visit you in Kono," I reassured him. But I don't think Tamba was very hopeful that we'd actually end up coming all the way to his hometown miles away from the city.


However, I felt determined to do all that I could to make the trip to see Tamba and wanted to stay true to my word...I made plans with a few of our day workers to take a 3-day trip up to Kono, but I had no idea at the time what I was getting myself into. The trip was supposedly an 8-hour drive away, but I was warned that the road was bad. Harry, the only day volunteer who ended up getting the time off work to come along for the adventure, had reassured me it wouldn't be that long of a trip...I told him that my guess was 10 hours. "No, no it will not take 10 hours," he argued. "Well, this is Africa and I am just being realistic," I told him.


The bus to Kono was supposed to leave at 6am on Saturday morning. We met the bus at the junction right at 6 and were taken to the main bus stop to load the remaining passengers. I was amazed that the bus came on time and that it was a nice, big, comfortable tour bus. It looked like something you would see in America...and it only cost 35,000 Leones for the journey (approximately $8.25). But, apparently the price had gone up 5,000 Leones (about $1.25) within a couple of days. The passengers became upset when they heard the quoted price. An argument broke out and there was murmuring among many of the passengers. Most of them got off the bus and the argument continued outside. I sat comfortably in my window seat with my pillow tucked under my head, doing my best to sleep through it all. It was far too early to be awake on a Saturday morning and I had no intention of getting involved in the drama.


We sat for another hour while the discussion continued. Apparently the passengers agreed to pay the extra 5,000 Leones, but several union workers were present and would not allow the bus to leave because "the change in price had not been confirmed." Instead, they loaded us onto smaller, less comfortable "buses" which were more like poda-podas...they had hard, uncomfortable seats, no room for luggage, and very little space to move. The workers saw me, the only white person in sight, and offered me a seat near the front (This is pretty typical hospitality among the Africans for white people). It was a nice gesture, but no more comfortable than the other seats...it pretty much felt like I was sitting on a slab of wood. We sat in the bus all loaded up and ready to go for about an hour...and then another hour...and another. I know that patience is not my strong point, but I was really frustrated that it had been a total of four hours since we first arrived at the bus...and we had not gone anywhere! I decided to keep my mouth shut despite the frustration I was having. I have traveled enough in Africa to know that half the time you spend on the journey ends up being spent in the waiting process. Harry turned to me and said "I'm glad that it doesn't come as a surprise to you and that you understand how it is in Africa."


We continued to sit and wait, but both of us were still annoyed. Apparently we weren't the only ones. After four hours had passed, several of the passengers started arguing with the driver. "Why didn't you just let us take the other bus and leave if you were going to just make us sit here for hours," one woman demanded. "We could've been halfway around the world by now," another man said as he pointed to his watch. The passengers' voices started to grow louder as they expressed their frustration and anger. I wanted to introduce them to the American expression "Time is money." They had just wasted our time, so the 5,000 Leones they had saved us meant nothing to us now. I decided that probably wouldn't be the best testimony, though, so I just kept it to myself. I didn't actually need to say anything though. The driver (who was one of the union workers) realized that the passengers were upset and things were going downhill. Within five minutes of all the complaints, he started up the bus and we were on our way. If we had known that was all it took to get us moving, I'm pretty sure we would've said something much sooner. TIA.


I do have to say that there was one positive thing that came out of the long wait. A woman saw me when I was waiting outside and asked if I was with Mercy Ships. She went on to tell me that her granddaughter was having eye problems. She wanted to take her to our eye screening, but she didn't know where to go to take her. I was able to give her the information for the eye clinic and she was very grateful. "Thank you for the good work you are doing," she said warmly. It was a good reminder that you can always find something positive in every situation.


The trip to Kono wasn't too eventful. The road was pretty smooth for the first few hours, but it started getting progressively worse and worse. They weren't kidding when they said the road was bad. The rain had provided some huge pot holes and large puddles to make the ride a little more exciting. I wouldn't have minded if we were in one of the ship Landrovers...but my bum was already starting to go numb, so the bumpy ride didn't help. I have to say, I was amazed at the small children riding along with us. There was one little girl sitting near me who looked like she was about two years old. She didn't cry once the entire time we were driving along. I kept both of us entertained for awhile by making fishy faces. But, eventually that got old and she dozed off....as did I.

We finally arrived in the district of Kono at 8pm. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. At least we were in the right district. But, we still had to get to the city of Kono. We stopped at least 10 times to drop people off who lived outside of the city. Finally, at 9pm, we arrived at our destination. It had been 15 hours since we had gotten on the first bus and I was more than ready to be off the bus! We were greeted by Tamba's father and drove to their house in his "ambulance" that they use at the local hospital where he works.


I knew that the second I saw Tamba's big smile, the long journey would all be worth it! He wore a grin that reached ear to ear and gave me a big hug. "I started to think you weren't coming," he said. We met his brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts. They were all huddled together under the dimly-lit porch. Soon the rain started and we said goodbye to all the relatives while Harry, Tamba, myself, and Tamba's sister all went inside to talk for a bit. That night, I went to bed with the sound of the rain gently pattering on the tin roof above me. Needless to say, I had no problem sleeping after the long journey!

The next morning, we had breakfast and started getting ready for church. I had completely forgot to pack any "church clothes" and knew that I would be completely out of place in jean capris and a tank top. Kadiatu, Tamba's sister, realized my dilemma and came to the rescue. "Don't worry...I'm going to dress you," she said proudly. She pulled out one of her nicest African outfits and put it on me, finishing it off with a head wrap and baby blue high heels (which definitely did not match!)...As she finished, she took one look at me and said "Beyonce, you look like an African queen!" It was very sweet.

The church was a Roman Catholic Church, which was very different from any other churches I have attended here. Most of the African churches have lots of singing and dancing, but this one was much more conservative and traditional. The service ended about 30 minutes after we got there. I was a bit confused Kadiatu had told us that church was from 10am-12. We had arrived at 9:30. Turns out that the last service ends at 10. "That was even shorter than an Amerian service," Henry joked. Oh well. I can't say I was really in my comfort zone with all the liturgies anyway.

After the service, we went on a long walk to go visit Tamba's uncle who worked at the diamond mines. Kono is a well-known area for diamond mining and I had yet to see any of the mines, so I was really excited about it. We took a long walk out to the mines and then watched the men working in the mud. I was struck by how long and dirty the work actually is. They told us that sometimes they'll work all day and won't find any diamonds at all!

Later on, I was thinking about the lyrics of a worship song called "All in all." The line that hit me says: "Seeking you as a precious jewel, Lord to give up I'd be a fool." I thought of the diamond mines and the long hours of sifting mud and water just to find one small precious stone. And I realized that my relationship with God is supposed to be like that...striving for the precious treasure of knowing Him, no matter what it takes.

As we wrapped up our time with Tamba's uncle, he offered me a diamond he had found in the place pictured above. I thanked him for the offer, but graciously declined. It would be a nice gift, but I'm not going to be another white person who is known for coming to Kono for my own financial gain.

After our visit to the diamond mines, we came back to Tamba's house to relax for a bit. The kids from the village all swarmed around me, interested in the white girl who had shown up at their friend's house. I'm not sure how often white people actually come all the way up to Kono, but they all seemed very intrigued as they stroked the white skin on my arm and stared at my blue eyes. I had brought Tamba's favorite Curious George book with me, so I pulled it out and began to read stories to the kids. They all gathered around me to see the pictures and hear the stories. Even some of the grown ladies from the neighboring houses came over to see the pictures and hear about Curious George.

Later, Tamba's father took us to the Kono Hospital where he works as a family doctor. The conditions of the hospital and patients was sad and overwhelming.  A few nurses came and asked Tamba's dad to have me come to see a few specific patients (seeing as I would have all the answers since I am a white nurse of course!)...the level of care was all very heart-breaking to me.  The one positive thing out of the experience was that I was able to connect with one of the directors who helps with the feeding program and offer her some helpful information and ideas for their babies who are not growing as they should be.

Post-partum ward at the Kono Hospital

                                One month old preemie baby still only weighing in at one kilo

That night, Tamba's family decided that we needed to watch a "Beyonce film" to prove to me that I look like the Ghanaian actress Naria Buari, who plays Beyonce in several famous African films. They set up their tv, dvd players, and speakers on the front porch and then rigged it up in true African-style to the generator in the dirt. Several neighbors came over for the excitement and found a place on the porch as the sound blasted through the speakers. I was less than impressed with the film, but thanked them for showing it to me and told them I was glad I finally got to see one of Beyonce's films (although I still don't see why they think I look like her).

The next morning as we were getting ready to head out for the long journey home, Kadiatu asked me if I liked chicken. I didn't think much of it and told her that I did. Before I knew it, she had a small chicken all wrapped up and ready to go with us on our journey. I was hoping he would be a quiet passenger because I wasn't about to listen to a noisy chicken all the way home! Thankfully, he proved to be a good little chicken and kept quiet the whole way back. Harry told me that I needed to give the chicken a name, so I endearingly decided to call him Eli.

The ride home was much more comfortable and pleasant than the trip to Kono. But, even with the nice big bus, there were a few times we hit some rough spots in the road and started rocking back and forth. At one point, the bus was rocking so much that it was almost worse than sailing! They ended up having us all get out of the bus and walk through a village while the bus passed through the huge water-filled craters in the road. I was able to snap one picture during the ordeal, but wasn't able to capture the full effect.

The trip back to Freetown took ten hours, which seemed short compared to the fifteen hours we had spent getting up there. When I arrived in the port, the big white ship I call my home was looking more inviting than ever. Needless to say, I was thankful to be off the bus after so many hours of traveling! At the same time, I know that my experience in Sierra Leone would not have been complete without at least one up-country trip in a public bus. I am thankful that I did it and I know that it meant so much to Tamba that we came up to visit. Seeing his big bright smile again and watching him walk proudly through town with his new straight feet made it so worth it!

The living blood bank

On the Africa Mercy, we have quite a unique system to provide blood for patients who need blood transfusions...WE, the crew are the blood bank. The lab keeps a list of crew who have provided recent samples and are fit to donate. They cross-match the donors with patients who are identified as highly likely to need a blood transfusion the following day (there are always emergencies, but most of the transfusions can be predicted based on the type of surgery the patient will have). The donor will receive a notice on their door the night before they are needed to give blood to remind them to drink lots of fluids and be prepared to come down to donate.


Last year, I made every effort to donate blood during the Togo outreach...but, unfortunately I was never able to. The problem is that my blood type is common among Americans and not so common among Africans...so we have an abundance of donors on the ship, but not so many transfusions of that type are needed. I decided to give it a shot again this year and provide regular samples to the lab just in case it was needed. I even received a couple of notices on my door, but the patients never ended up needing transfusions....until last week.


I received another notice to drink lots of fluids and be prepared to donate, but I didn't get my hopes up this time. Then, around 10am, one of the lab techs found me and said, "Ok, come down. We need your blood!"

All the areas where they usually take people to donate were occupied, so we ended up going to the recovery room. I hopped up on a stretcher and happily held out my arm...I think I was abnormally excited about having them stick a needle in my arm, but I had been waiting for this opportunity for over a year. Needless to say, there was quite a bit of pent-up excitement now that it was finally happening :)

After giving the blood, the lab tech handed me a can of Coke and some cookies and told me I couldn't leave until I drank all of it...I willingly obeyed :) Then, with my excessively large bandage wrapped around my arm, I headed over to the OR office and met a friend there who is able to escort non-OR staff to observe the operations. He graciously agreed to let me go down and visit the OR where the patient was receiving my blood.


We walked into the OR and Dr. Gary looked up from the scalpel. He asked if I was the blood donor and then thanked me for donating. He pointed toward the suction canister to show me all the blood the man had lost. It was quite a bit.

A few days later, I met the man who had received my blood. Mohamed is 58 years old and has had a maxillary tumor growing for the last twenty years. It had become very large and painful, so he was excited when he received his patient card to have the tumor removed.

Despite Mohamed's large blood loss during surgery, he did not have any further complications and was able to make a good recovery. I had the chance to visit him in D Ward a few days after he had his surgery. I approached him and shook his hand, explaining why I had wanted to meet him. A big grin appeared on his face when he realized I was his blood donor. He shook my hand again and thanked me for helping him. It was a really special moment.

I have to say, it's so different actually meeting the person who receives your blood instead of just giving a bag of blood to be put in a refrigerator at a blood bank. It was a bit strange thinking about my blood pumping through Mohamed's heart and veins...but amazing at the same time...

With open arms

It happened when she was only four years old. Her family loved her and took good care of her, but there was an accident while she was sleeping in the kitchen and little Alberta fell into a boiling pot of cooking oil. The burns covered her back, shoulders, and parts of her arms. Her grandmother took her to a clinic in their Liberian village, but they couldn't even give her pain medicine. She laid there in pain through the night and was taken to another clinic the next day. Alberta spent the next month and a half in a clinic getting treatment for her extensive burns. Her mother wasn't able to go with her, so her grandmother Mariah stayed by her side through the whole process.

But, even after all that time in the clinic, Alberta's care was far from everything she needed. The clinic was lacking the physical therapy she needed and after a short time, her arms had contracted and she had lost her ability to lift her arms up. The kids at school began to tease her and she would come home crying. She couldn't even wrap her arms around her grandma for a big hug because they no longer reached the way they did before.

"It was too much for us," her grandma told me. "She was crying all the time and she was not happy anymore." They sought out more help and found a place to get the surgery to repair Alberta's contracture, but it would cost $1000 USD, an overwhelming amount for the average Sierra Leonean. But,  Alberta's grandmother didn't give up. She found a group of American surgeons who had come to Sierra Leone to volunteer and provide free surgeries. But since they had only come for a few weeks, they had to break the bad news "We have a surgeon who knows how to do the surgery for you, but the follow-up time is too long, so we can't do it." Mariah and Alberta had arrived at another dead end, but they didn't lose hope.

"I knew that if God had saved her that night from dying, then he could help us," Mariah reminisced. So, she continued to pray and hope. It had been over a year since the accident and Alberta was still struggling with the ridicule and teasing of others, but her grandmother held onto her faith in the God who sees everything and loves us more than we will ever understand.

A few months later, Mariah was volunteering as a soccer coach with LACES, an organization in West Africa that uses soccer as a therapeutic method to help children who have been affected by civil war. An American girl named Laura came out for a special event going on with the LACES group and noticed Alberta and her scars. She began asking questions and asked Mariah if it she could take photos of her granddaughter. "My friends told me not to let her take pictures," Mariah recalls. They thought Americans just wanted pictures of children like Alberta so they could use them to make money. "But, I didn't mind her taking pictures, so I said it was fine."

Laura was able to send the pictures to a friend who she thought would be able to help.  In God's providential plan and timing, it turned out that he had previously worked with Mercy Ships and was back on the ship for a visit when she contacted him. He was able to show the pictures to the doctors and not long after, Alberta was on the surgery schedule.

Less than a month later, Alberta and Mariah packed up their stuff and set off for the journey of a lifetime to Sierra Leone. After a fourteen hour car ride to Freetown, Alberta and her Grandma arrived at our "Hope Center," where they would stay until Alberta had surgery.

Alberta pre-operatively on the ship

Three months have passed now since Alberta had her surgery. It has been a long process with a lot of therapies, dressing changes, and even some pain. But, not a day has gone by that I have not seen a smile on that little girl's face.

Alberta in her splint after surgery



There have been many, many dressing changes to her graft and donor sites. But, she is our little all-star. It still amazes me that she sings songs, reads books, and occasionally falls asleep during her dressing changes (some of the other kids still scream!)...One day, we finished reading "Green Eggs and Ham" (which is now her favorite book thanks to her favorite storyteller Beyonce :) and she got down from her dressing change saying "Thank you, thank you Sam I am" to Todd, one of our wound care nurses. It warmed my heart and brought a smile to my face.

While Alberta's wound healing has been slow and her hospital stay has been one of the longest out of our last group of plastics patients, she is finally on the verge of finishing her treatment! Her arms and shoulders are all healed up and she can finally move her arms in all directions. Every time she stretches out those little arms to wrap them around me with a big hug, I can't help but smile and thank God for bringing Alberta to us. He had a plan for her all along and I know He still has amazing things in store for her life!

Free from fever

Over the last week, fever has been an ongoing theme on the ward. One particular patient, Alpha, has had fevers for that entire week. Yesterday when I took care of him, it was as though he were holding his breath every single time he was waiting to hear me tell him the thermometer reading. He was so discouraged and beginning to seem a bit hopeless.

So, tonight, as we were having handover, I felt like God was promting me to pray for Alpha, but I just prayed in my heart instead of praying out loud in the group. When I opened my eyes, Alpha was standing there next to our little circle of nurses, listening to us pray. At that point, I realized that I needed to be obedient and take some time to pray for him. So, I had Alpha come to the middle of the circle and we laid hands on him and said a prayer of healing over his body and against the fevers.

All through the night, I said a prayer each time I had to check Alpha's temperature. The tylenol and ibuprofen had worn off, but each time, his temperature was normal. I began to see the hope in his eyes once again. It had been a long week for him and finally he was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It's amazing how much we miss out on when we forget to pray. I was reminded of the promise that Jesus gave us: "Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you" (Matthew 7:7)....He wants to answer us...we just have to do our part and ask.

Angel in disguise

His ever-present smile lights up the entire ward and his eyes shine bright as everyone gathers into the crowded room for the hospital church service. Patients crowd together with their bandages and IV lines, surrounded by nurses and crew members who have come to join in the service. The music starts and the drums begin to beat....the sound of African voices fills the air like a beautiful choir. But one voice in particular stands out a few decibals higher than the others...I turn toward the sound and see those bright eyes and big smile...and with no surprise, I see that it is Osman.

The first time I met Osman, he was getting ready to have surgery for a gaping wound on his leg. We got him ready for the operating room with his pre-op surgical scrub. As he waited for me to finish, there was a look of discomfort in his eyes, but he didn't say a word. When it was all finished, he proceeded to thank me and headed back to his little corner of the room with a big smile on his face. It was obvious that he was not the typical 9-year old boy. There was something deeper within him that gave him peace and joy in the midst of his circumstances. It was this same joy that would carry him through the next few months of a very long journey.


The following week was a difficult one for Osman. He had several complications, one being an arterial bleed, which led him back to the operating room. Eventually, the blood flow was so diminished that there was nothing to be done except to amputate the leg. It was devastating for all of us to find out, but amazingly enough, Osman never lost his smile or cheerful spirit. After spending a few days in intensive care, he returned to A Ward and continued to amaze us with his positive attitude.


It has been over three months now since my first encounter with Osman and he continues to challenge and encourage me. I was relocated to B Ward for about a month to help with staffing needs there, but every time I came back to visit the kids, I was greeted by my sweet Osman who always had a smile and a big hug for me. Sometimes I walk in at the right momen and catch him strumming away at his "guitar," which happens to be one of the crutches that he uses to cruise around the ward. Other times, I find him laying in bed doing his physical therapy exercises with a strained look on his face. Those are the moments that I get the opportunity to cheer him up...we count to 10 in every language we can think of until he is finally finished.


It's interesting how God works. When I first came to the ship, I set out to really "change the world" and make a difference in the lives of my patients. But in the end, I've discovered that the one who has been changed the most is me. The perseverance and optimism of these children is so inspiring that I can't leave a day of work without encountering God and His amazing work in this place.

Every now and then, I have one of those days when I am feeling completely overwhelmed and discouraged....without fail, those are the days that God brings Osman my way. He hobbles over on his crutches to snuggle up close to me with a hug and smile...and it's in those sweet moments that I realize God has blessed me with a little angel in disguise.

Surprise, I'm home!

The last few weeks have been a bit of a whirlwind, but so full of great memories. I was blessed to have my mom come out to the ship to visit. I have always thought it would be cool to have someone from my family come to the ship and experience it firsthand. When my mom first mentioned it, I didn't really think it was going to happen. But, it all worked out for her to come and she was able to spend time with me on the ship for about a week before heading into Freetown to work with an American teacher who was doing a teaching conference for local teachers.



There's something about experiencing the ship for yourself. You can explain to someone what it's like and show pictures and all, but actually meeting the patients, observing surgery, working on the ship, and meeting the people is another story. Needless to say, the days my mom spent on the ship doing all of those things was the big highlight for her.  I really enjoyed seeing her interact with the patients in A Ward and the Hope Center, experiencing "African church" for the first time, and singing on worship team with me. The kids called her "Beyonce's mom," which she thought was funny. Many of the patients also didn't believe she was old enough to be my mom, which we laughed about since I'm the fourth of five kids.

Enjoying the sunset from Deck 8



So, the whole trip was quite an experience for her and I was so thankful that she could be there to experience it all with me. But, what she didn't know was that I was going to surprise her by coming home with her! I had decided a couple months ago that I wanted to fly home for my cousin's wedding, but had debated whether or not to disclose the secret to my mom. In the end, my cousin and I decided that it would be best to keep it all a secret and surprise everyone when I showed up (I really like surprises and he's really good at keeping secrets). I had told quite a few people on the ship that I was going home with my mom, but that it was a surprise and everyone kept saying "Really, Becca...How are you gonna keep it a secret when so many people on the ship know!"...But, I prayed that my plan would work and threatened (well, strongly warned) my friends not to tell (or "I go beat you"). There were several times that friends slipped, but their words were vague enough that my mom didn't catch on.


There was quite a bit of planning that went into the surprise. I had to cover all my bases and yes, I even had to lie (sorry mom!)...The day that I left, one of my friends picked up my luggage from my cabin and carried it out to the Landrover for me (of course, it had to be one of the ones I wasn't riding in so that my mom wouldn't notice). I had also bought a bag "for my roommate" when my mom and I were in the market since my roommate was leaving on the same flight to head out for vacation. Being the good friend that I am, I even offered to carry her bag for her (of course my mom didn't know it was actually MY bag, not Mekenzie's...once again completely clueless!)...I also had to get around checking out at reception and turning in my key without my mom seeing. So, I had my friend conveniently "call me down to the ward to start an IV" right at lunch time (which was right before we were supposed to leave)...Needless to say, I checked out and had my packed bags waiting in the car for me without my mother blinking an eye.

Since my mom's never been to the ship before, she didn't realize that no one takes the hour-long ferry ride across to Lungi unless they are going to the airport and actually flying out...she thought I just wanted to come along for the ride...at this point, I was pretty amazed that she still hadn't figured anything out. In fact, there was a part of me that thought she knew and was playing along and pretending that she didn't know anything.

Riding past the ship on our way to the airport



So, we made it across to Lungi with all our bags. My mom started getting sentimental and saying goodbyes...which was when I finally said to her "Mom, I have a confession to make. I lied to you." She was a little shocked and said "You did?" with confusion. "Ya Mom, I didn't ride the ferry for nothing. I'm coming home with you," I told her. She was laughing and crying at the same time and I finally felt a sense of relief that I could let out the secret and stop lying.

The truth comes out...

She was so happy that she cried :)

Ok, so I just want to say that I do not endorse lying and yes, my mother was a little surprised that I could lie to her so well (I attributed that to all the games of Mafia that I've played)...But, in the end we were all happy because it meant that I got to surprise my Mom and the rest of my family and friends.

The trip home was great and I even got to spend my 6-hour layover in Chicago with one of my best friends who was on the ship last year. Surprisingly enough, I didn't even experience culture shock when she took me to the mall...I guess you just get used to switching between Africa and the states after a few times :)

We even got free gift cards for doing a survey



The last two weeks have been great and I am so thankful that I was able to go home for Jared's wedding and for a little vacation. I was also really grateful to be able to spend some time with my nieces and nephews, who are all growing up fast! I was bummed that I couldn't be home longer, but prayed that God would multiply the time that I was there and help me make the most of my time...He definitely answered that prayer by giving me quality time with so many people that I love!

I had lots of pool days with the kids

I knew I wouldn't get to spend much time with Jared at the wedding,

so I visited him at the station and even got to do a ride-along with him

The wedding was beautiful and I was so grateful that I was able to be home for such a special day in Jared and Julie's lives. It was also a great reunion with lots of extended family that I hadn't seen in a long time.

Me and my cousin with his beautiful bride





A couple of days before I left, my 2-year old nephew asked my sister, "Is Aunt Becca taking her car to Africa?" to which she said no. He responded in surprise and said, "So she's walking to Africa!" She had to explain that I have to fly in an airplane to get back to Africa. So later on, we found Africa on a map and showed him where I live now. It's always hard explaining to the little ones where exactly I'm going and why I won't be back until after Christmas (I had to tell my niece that I'd bring her back cool toys so that she didn't burst into tears)...But, by now they have learned that Aunt Becca always comes home...and it's not so bad saying goodbye as it was the first time I left.

Together with all my nieces & nephews at the wedding



 My visit home was a great surprise for everyone and even though it's always a little bittersweet saying goodbye, my heart is in Africa and I'm excited to see all that God has in store for the rest of this year!

Back to Africa I go