Back to Ghana

This weekend, I had the opportunity to head back to Ghana! But this time, I was not with a van full of 'yovos'...actually I was the only yovo! I went up north to a town called Hoe with Victoria and Bright Gabla, two friends who work with me as translators on the ward.

The drive up north was uneventful (for once!) and I absolutely fell in love with their little village up in the mountains! It was so beautiful and peaceful..very few cars passing by on the dirt road that ran down the middle of the village. It was a nice change of pace from the fast, busy culture of Lome.

Victoria standing in the kitchen..notice the goats

are warming themselves by the fire :)

This weekend was a great opportunity to get away, relax, and experience 'real African culture.' I enjoyed making 'fufu' (a popular African food) with Bright and Victoria's mom, walking down the paths through the village with random goats and chickens roaming around, and meeting all the 'brothers' and 'aunties' that Bright wanted to introduce me to. This was especially funny to me because very few of them were actually related..they just all call each other that...at first, when he made the introductions, I would say 'Oh, that's your auntie' to which he responded 'Yes, of course.' Then I asked 'But is she really your auntie' to which he responded 'Well, we're not related by blood, but that's what we call each other...By the end of all the visits to all the different people in the town, I would jokingly look at Bright and say 'Let me guess...she's your auntie?' and he would just laugh and tell me I was right....I just love the culture in Africa and the way everyone is family!

Pounding the fufu

The final product...best fufu I've had yet!

(I can't take credit though..I barely did anything)

One of the highlights of this weekend was going to church with the Gablas. On sunday morning, I started to unpack my church clothes and Victoria looked at me and said 'I don't think you'll need those'...'What do you mean,' I asked. 'Well, mom has a surprise for you today,' Victoria exclaimed with childlike excitement. She was so excited for me to open the 'surprise.' A few minutes later, their mom came in and laid out a beautiful pink African skirt and top that they had made for me! I was so touched by their generosity and thoughtfulness in having an entire African outfit made for me! It is actually very common in the African culture to make an outfit for a friend who is visiting, so when Bright and Victoria found out I was going to come with them to their village, they called their mom so she could have the tailor make something for me!

My pink African outfit (with Victoria)

Church was absolutely amazing! I'm sad to say that I didn't bring my camera with me because I would've loved to show you pictures of the amazing choir all decked out in their black and white robes, accompanied by their matching caps. They looked like college graduates with their tassles dangling from their caps. The music was amazing and the choir sounded amazing! I am always so blown away by how beautiful and loud African voices sound! I just love watching them sing their hearts out to the Lord!

The church service wouldn't have been complete if there wasn't some dancing to go along with the music! I just love dancing in church! There are occasionally conga lines and what we like to call 'the chicken move', which involves a lot of movement of the arms and shoulders, making a person look very similar to a chicken. It's always a little bit amusing doing it but the Africans just love seeing 'yovos' doing their moves! I can't help but laugh every time I dance 'African style.' The whole church was full of joy as the songs were sung and men, women, and children all danced before the Lord....such a beautiful picture of what I think it will be like in heaven...sheer unashamed worship and rejoicing!

Sunday afternoon, we visited the 'village chief' who somehow, ironically were also related to Bright and Victoria :) It was interesting to see the accomodations for the village chief and to get to know him and his wife a bit. Thankfully, the chief spoke some English, which was nice for me, since I speak very little Ewe (I'm working on my French first, then maybe I'll move to local dialects!)

Victoria & I with the "chief" and his wife

After our visit to the chief's house, we had to head back to the ship (Lome is about a 4 hour ride from Hoe). I was sad to say goodbye to the Gabla family, but was warmly invited to come back again...hopefully I will get to visit one more time before we sail in August!

The Gabla Family

What lies beneath the surface

There's one story in particular that has really touched my heart in the last few weeks...it's about a little girl who came to the ship all the way from Cameroon...this is Aissa's story:

Aissa was abandoned by both of her parents as a child. She grew up with her grandmother and at the age of 6, developed a disease called NOMA. Her disease resulted in degeneration of the tissue in her face. She was very malnourished and there was a huge portion of flesh missing in the side of her right cheek. At the tender age of six, Aissa had lost not only her parents, but she had also lost the gift of being seen as 'normal.' Because of the circumstances she found herself in, she became an outcast in her society.

But, Aissa's story doesn't end that way. Aissa found help at a local hospital in Cameroon and improved significantly after receiving treatment. But even with the best treatment they could give her at the hospital, she still needed surgery to remove a portion of her cheek and replace it with a skin flap. So, a non-profit organization called Willing and Able funded Aissa's plane ticket to Togo so that she would be able to get her surgery.

A few weeks ago, I had my first encounter with Aissa. I didn't know anything about Aissa's story. The first thing I was told about Aissa was that she had lots of behavioral problems and frequent tantrums. As I listened to the nurse's report during handover, I prepared myself for the worst and prayed for patience, expecting to have a really challenging day with this little girl.

But when I went over to Aissa's bedside to meet her, I didn't see the stubborn, rebellious child I had expected. Instead, there, beneath the bandages and guarded expressions, I saw a fragile little spirit. It was apparent that she had become hardened by the ridicule she had received for her condition, but the little sweetheart inside was still shining through. I know it was only the grace of God that I could see the true Aissa that first day.

The day passed with its share of challenges. Aissa was very hesitant to have any medicine placed in her feeding tube due to the nausea she had been feeling for the past few days. I slowly pushed each medicine through, waiting for Aissa's nod of approval. The entire process took nearly half an hour. But, I knew that somehow I had connected with Aissa and won over some of her trust. I tried to show her in every way possible that I loved her. And, somehow, that message seemed to get across to her.

A few hours into the shift, Aissa's uncle helped her with her bath and accidentally got her dressing wet. The dressing was covering her skin graft on her thigh, which had just been operated on a few days before. I started to take off the layers of gauze and waited for Alanie, our wound care nurse to come to assess the wound. Alanie walked in the room and watched as I finished removing the gauze. She looked at me, then looked at Aissa. 'Wow, Becca! She really trusts you!' she said. And then it hit me, 'She really does trust me.' It hadn't even dawned on me up until that point that this behavior was out of the ordinary for a little girl who refused her medicine and threw frequent tantrums. She really should've been squirming and fighting. That would be expected behavior for a six year old 'uncompliant' child who was having a bandage changed. But, she didn't fight. She barely even moved. Instead, she sat perfectly still as I worked away and obediently kept her hands off the wound. As I realized the breakthrough I'd just experienced, I silently thanked God for his favor and finished up the dressing change.

Looking back on that situation, I see an ironic representation of something that was happening below the surface. No one could see Aissa's wound until all the layers of gauze were taken off. It was obvious that there was a source of pain, but it was all covered up. At the same time, she had deeper wounds that were not just physical. There were emotional wounds from the ridicule, abandonment, and neglect she had experienced. But, as the layers of her anger and bitterness were peeled away through the love she received from the staff, the hurting little heart beneath it all could finally be seen.

Aissa looking in the mirror to see her new face

In the last few weeks that Aissa has been on the ward, she has completely transformed into a different little girl. She is playful, social, and has become our favorite little helper. She even occasionally picks up the babies on the ward (there are lots of siblings of patients on the ward) and plays 'mama,' hugging them and giving them kisses. I love seeing Aissa's nurturing little spirit. She loves to climb on me like a little monkey and gives lots of hugs. Some days, Aissa's fireball spirit and endless energy wears me out, but I can't help but smile and love her for every minute of it. Every time she comes up and wraps her little arms around me, my heart is filled with gratitude to God for the miracle He's done in our little Aissa. She's had a long journey, not just from Cameroon. She came from a place in her life that was dark and gloomy to a place where she can experience and give love...it's children like her that remind me that this ministry is not just about physical healing...it's about a deeper healing and tranformation that only God can do. It has been amazing to be a part of Aissa's journey. I know that she will go home changed. She will have a new face, but more importantly, she'll have a new heart.

'Mamma Aissa'

Our little helper

Kisses from Aissa

Aissa's new face is healing up nicely

The smiles behind the stories

Well, I know sometimes it's hard to imagine the stories I tell when there are no pictures to go along with them. But, unfortunately I don't always have pictures of the patients since only our ship photographers are allowed to take photos of us with the patients. Thankfully, though, we got a lot of good shots over the last couple of weeks...Here are some of the cute kiddos I have enjoyed taking care of in the last few weeks:

Me & Maurius, my little cuddle bug

Isn't he a cutie pie!

My friend Tricia and  I with Gloria

                                        Me & Lovelace

I had the opportunity to go to the hospitality center this past week, which is where the patients go after they are discharged  if they are not from the port city and need to stay closeby for dressing changes or follow-up appointments. It was great having a little reunion with some of the patients I have been able to take care of in the hospital and seeing them all happy and pain free!

Reunion with Bobo!

Me & my candy-cane princess (Mako)

Check out their new straight legs!

On the other side of heaven

Last week, we experienced a tragedy that no one seems to really understand. I was coming back to the ship with my friend Jen when a Mercy Shipper drove by and told us that we needed to get back to the ship right away and go straight to the ICU! They didn't say why but both of us knew it was O'Brien. He had been struggling since he came into the hospital, even before surgery. But, he had been our little miracle baby, so none of us were prepared for what would happen. Jen had taken care of O'Brien more than I had since she's a PICU nurse and he had most recently been in our ICU. My first thought when our friends frantically told us to get back to the ship was that O'Brien needed a new IV because his old one had gone bad. He was a hard stick and they had struggled to get the last one in. But, we were met with the bad news when we arrived back at the ship...I'll let you read Jen's words on this account since I was more of a bystander in this story:

"Sometimes I just really don’t understand God and how He chooses to work on this earth!

If you look a few blog entries back, you’ll notice one about a beautiful little boy named O’Brien. He was named after an American tennis player that his dad saw play on TV. He had become somewhat of a poster child for those of us here on the ship. We called him our “wonder boy”. And he was! God performed a miracle in his life and no one can take that away.

Last Friday afternoon O’Brien left his tiny diseased body behind and was welcomed home to the loving arms of Jesus! When I first heard, I felt angry and confused! Why would the God that I know to be kind and loving and compassionate take this little one?? And why would God go to the trouble of miraculously saving O’Brien’s life just to let him die a few weeks later? And what about his mama, a beautiful kind-hearted and quiet-spirited young woman; how was she supposed to return home with the lifeless body of her only child in her arms?

I was off-ship when he died. I was walking back to the ship when a Mercy Ships vehicle on it’s way out stopped alongside the road and a fellow nurse told me that I needed to get back to the ICU as soon as possible! No other explanations! I felt a pit form in my stomach and I suddenly had an urgency in my step to get back to the ship as soon as possible!

I walked into the little room where a handful of nurses were gathered around O’Brien and his mom. She was holding him in her arms. Someone had dressed him in a cute little white onezie with yellow chicks on the front and had put a light blue hat on his head. He looked the best I’d ever seen him look! She looked up at me with big, red, tear-filled eyes and I hugged her. I kissed O’Brien’s cold little forehead and cheeks and hugged his mama again, saying a silent prayer as I did. Really, what do you do in a situation like that? There is absolutely nothing natural about a mother watching her baby die. Language barrier or not, there really are no words!

We all spent a few minutes together and then I watched as O’Brien’s mama tenderly wrapped his tiny lifeless body in a cozy blanket. Her eyes were puffy and red and tear-filled. She remained so stoic and steadfast. O’Brien looked so peaceful. Only his tiny brown face was visible, with the imperfections of his bilateral cleft lip still present. She asked if we could all take a photo with O’Brien, something for her to remember us all by. Finally, we made the long walk up and out of the ship, down the gangway to a car awaiting to take O’Brien’s mama and his body back to their home in Benin. I gave O’Brien one last kiss on the forehead and hugged his mama, again silently praying for God’s grace to be sufficient for her! As they drove away, she waved, and I waved back. It felt like a part of my heart had been ripped away.

I still don’t fully understand why God chose to work in the manner He did; I don’t think I ever will and I’m not sure that I’m supposed to. What I do know is this: God gave us O’Brien as a gift for a short while! I am inclined to think that God chose to heal O’Brien the first time for the sake of those of us who would be left here on this earth, not for O’Brien’s sake. We were all witness to the miracle and I know my faith was strengthened! God chose to answer our prayers of healing for O’Brien the second time by taking him home to heaven where he is now perfect and whole, playing happily at the feet of Jesus!

Still, my heart hurts for his mama, at home, mourning the loss of her firstborn son. I continue to wrestle with why this had to happen, but I don't have the answers. I hold onto the truth that all the care and love that O'Brien and his mama received while they were a part of our ship community was not wasted on his mama. That love was not of ourselves, but rather the tangible expression of Christ's love through the hands of doctors and nurses (and many others). My prayer is that this same love will sustain each of us through the incomprehensible and heart-wrenching situations that come our way in this life!

We will miss you O'Brien! We will miss your little grunty cry and we will miss how we had to hold you nearly every minute to keep you from crying. We will miss how your NG tube always turned into an OG tube and your little discolored patches of skin. But most of all, we are glad you are now happy and healthy and loved beyond measure!"

Even though I only had taken care of O'Brien a few times myself, I know that my faith was also strengthened by his story. And while I, like Jen, don't understand why things turned out the way they did, I know that there are answers on the other side of heaven and I choose to trust that our loving Father knows best and is holding little O'Brien in his arms.

The long journey home

Well, I promised to finish the stories of my adventures in Ghana, so I'll pick up where I left off the last time...

After Jen and I said our goodbyes to our friends in Accra, we jumped into a bus at the bus station and then sat....for two hours! Here in Africa, the public transportation is slightly different than America (ok, maybe that's a bit of an understatement)! There are no set times that the buses leave. You just show up, find the bus that's going to the city where you're headed and then wait for the bus to fill up. These 'buses' are more like large vans...not the nice big buses with air conditioning in the states with lots of walking room in the aisle...the buses where they pack you in like sardines! So, after two and a half hours had passed, the last person finally climbed onboard and we started off on our journey to Ho Hoe.

Jen and I didn't really know much about our trip up north, except that we wanted to see the waterfall and have fun in the meantime. We didn't have any idea where we'd be staying when we got there, we just decided we'd see what happened and figure things out as we went along....and that's exactly what we did....we made a friend on the bus ride who was from Ho Hoe and was able to give us a list of recommendations for places to stay. We agreed on 'The Grand Hotel'...sounded pretty promising and turned out to be a decent place...aside from the spider in the bathroom...I took care of that problem quickly and Jen thanked me for killing the scary little critter.

Ho Hoe turned out to be a cute little town pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Jen and I ventured out to find some snacks for dinner (you have to be a little creative when you're traveling in Africa!) and met a few friendly people. The man who worked at the front desk at the hotel was a friendly guy. When we asked him his name, he said 'God's Will' and I looked at Jen and said 'Wow, I finally know God's will!'...we both had a laugh over my corny humor. I think it's really interesting how so many names and titles of stores are so religious in Ghana. It was noticeable even in the first few minutes we entered Ghana. Many of the cars and stores have references to God and the Bible. It kind of reminded me of Texas :)

So, Jen and I had a nice stay at the Grand Hotel and headed to Wli Falls the following day. We had to take a taxi up the road to the waterfall, which turned out to be a very bumpy ride down a dirt road. The waterfalls were located in another small town north of Ho Hoe. We got to the hiking office, met our 'mandatory guide' and started off on the hike. We opted to take the road less traveled and hike to the lower AND upper falls...which turned out to be a very dramatic incline...I don't know if it was the heat, the altitude, or just not enough fluid intake, but as we were hiking, I suddenly started to feel like I was spinning...apparently my color was changing too, because Jen took one look at me and encouraged me to sit down, which I willingly did and was grateful for. It was a strange feeling being so dizzy. I've never passed out before, but I really felt like I was going to. It was nice to have a nurse with me. Jen gave me some gatorade and a lollipop and I was back on my feet in no time. The rest of the hike was peaceful and uneventful. The waterfalls were beautiful and for awhile, we were the only ones in sight. It was a nice change in pace from the busy life of the ship!

 Our incredible view on the hike

 

The upper falls

Jen & I after our hike to the upper falls

Enjoying the showers of the lower falls

After awhile, some other tourists showed up and we met some nice people from Pennsylvania who were working with their church group in Ghana. Later, we were befriended by two people from Togo who had come across the border to enjoy the waterfall. When I told them (in my broken French) that we lived in Togo and were heading back that day, they offered to escort us across the border and show us the road to Kpalime since we hadn't crossed the border up north before. So, we started the long journey home...

The border crossing itself was quite amusing. The "official" border was a small, run-down blue building. We walked inside and saw one official with her feet propped up on the table and the other official with his radio stationed to the latest soccer match. The woman didn't like the letters we presented (our official letters from Mercy Ships stating that the government of Togo has granted us free visas) since she knew we wouldn't have to pay and kept saying "This is not good." The guy was a little less worried about it and asked about what he had to do to come visit the ship.

After getting through all the paperwork, we started back on the narrow dirt road. There was a stretch of road that seemed to go through 'no-man's land' between the borders of Ghana and Togo. After a few minutes of walking, we approached another blue building that said 'Police'...It was apparently immigration services for Togo. The only problem was that there were no officials to be found. 'Where are the police?' I asked our friend. "They must be sleeping," he answered nonchalantly. He continued walking and we followed along, slightly bewildered by the fact that we had just crossed back into the country without talking to any officials...I looked at Jen and we both just shrugged..."Well,  TIA" (This is Africa), we said and went on...some things just don't surprise you anymore after awhile.

One thing that I've learned being here is that you have to just go with the flow. Another thing I've learned is that you can never take people literally when they give you a time estimate. We passed through a small village at the border and then came upon a paved road with no taxis in sight. I asked how far the next village was "Thirty minutes," he answered. About two hours later, Jen and I realized we'd run out of water. I was starting to get a headache. My feet hurt from all the hiking and walking we had done in flip flops. No taxis in sight. It was one of those moments that I couldn't see the end in sight. Jen and I were both tired and ready to be off our feet....Not to mention, the long road we'd been walking on was uphill...we even hit some switchbacks at one point. I tried to stay distracted by working on my French with our Togolese friend. I could tell Jen was enjoying herself even less than I was. "Just think, we're gonna laugh about this later," I told her. That didn't make her feel any better. In fact, I think I may have even gotten a dirty look for that comment. Every time we asked how much farther the next village was, our 'guide' told us "Thirty minutes"...Of course it was thirty minutes...that response didn't give either one of us very much hope.

Finally, we were met by a little boy who told us he lived in the next village and it was only a few more minutes up ahead. We got to the village and found....no taxis, no water. So, we kept going. Not far from there, we came to another little village. There was a marker on the road that said we were 10 kilometers from the border (I think that's about 6 1/2 miles)...So by this point, we had cumulatively walked close to 9 or 10 miles. I was ready to drink some water, but the village only had water from the tap (and we all know that kind of water doesn't get along with our stomachs)....So, we just kept walking. Before we got out of that village, our friend saw a friend on a motorcycle. We only had a little bit of cepha (the Togolese currency) since there had been no place to change over our Ghanian money at the border. So, we had to pay partly in cedi (the Ghanian currency) and partly in cepha. We were just happy that we finally had a ride! We thanked our friend and rode away.

After passing a few more small villages, we arrived in a slightly larger village where our motorcycle driver decided to stop. We stopped right in the middle of a bunch of other motorcycles and drivers. Everyone was speaking French and pointing. The driver told Jen she needed to get off and get on one of the other motorcycles and I told him "No, she is my sister, she's going with me" (Yes, I can actually say that in French and yes I know she's not actually my sister, but she's my sister-in-Christ and multiple people have told me we're like twins, so it was close enough!)...But the driver wouldn't budge. He kept telling her to get off and I kept insisting that he stop trying to move her off and get back on the road. Pretty soon, we became the entertainment of the town. People were coming out to watch what was going on and  most of them were laughing. "I really do love Africa, but this is one of those moments that I'm really just trying not to hate it," Jen moaned. We were both on the verge of giving up. Si vous plait, I whined to the driver. Finally, he started up the motorcycle and began to move! Wow, it worked! I said proudly. But, we had only gone about five feet when he made a circle and turned around back to where all the other motorcycle drivers remained, laughing at us. "Ok, maybe not," I said defeatedly. Jen and I sat for another few minutes, as the drivers carried on back and forth. I wasn't even trying to understand what they were saying anymore.

But, finally, a woman stepped in. She was an older lady and had a gentle face, which automatically won our trust. "The law only lets you have two people on a motorcyle," she explained. "Oh, well, in that case, I'll get on the other motorcycle and we can be on our way," Jen agreed. So, both of us went from a state of being stubborn and frustrated to agreeable and obedient in one minute simply because the kind woman stepped in. I hope the men of the town learned a lesson from that one :)

As Jen and I rode away down the mountain, I breathed a big sigh of relief and regained hope that we might actually make it home that night. We had a short ride to Adeta, where we were finally able to buy drinking water. We sucked down a few bags of water and hopped on another two motor taxis to take us to Kpalime. This time, getting on the road was much less complicated. We were thankful for that because to be honest, neither one of us had the energy or patience for any more African antics.

The ride from Adeta to Kpalime was exactly what I needed. The sun was getting low, the breeze felt amazing, and the scenery was beautiful. I watched the sun set over the mountains as we rode through a small village. Every time we rode past a child, I would wave and their black little faces immediately turned white with a big smile that went from one ear to the other. Occasionally the little ones would giggle and point to the "yovo" riding on the motor taxi. I sat there taking in the sights of the children smiling and waving, men walking home from work with their machetes and tools in hand, the women taking a stroll with their friends, and the kids playing in their school uniforms, and I was reminded of why I love living in Africa. It may have it's share of frustrating moments, but it is a beautiful place filled with beautiful people.

Jen and I reached the bus station in Kpalime right as it was getting dark. We bought our bus tickets and were happy to see that we were the last couple people to pile into the van....which meant we didn't really have to wait at all! We loaded up and headed back to Lome. It was a tight squeeze with all the people they had managed to fit inside, but we were happy as long as we were moving! The little boy beside me fell asleep in his mamma's arms and occasionally his little hand would fall on my arm. It was precious. I was getting a little bit sleepy myself....it had been one long day!

We made it back to Lome at last and bartered one last taxi to get us to the port. As we walked into the port, we were greeted by a friend from our group in Ghana who was out jogging. "We were so worried about you girls," he said with a big hug. Apparently they expected us back sooner and had wondered what had become of us.

Finally, we reached the dock. As we rounded the corner, we took in the sight of our big white piece of steel floating on the water. The lights were shining bright, reflecting off the water, the dock was quiet, and the ship looked more inviting than ever before. We both breathed a sigh of relief. The never-ending journey had finally come to an end. "I never thought I'd be so excited to be back at the ship," Jen exclaimed. I couldn't have agreed more. It had been a very, very long journey, but we had finally made it home.

Our little Ghana Getaway

Well, this past weekend, I had the opportunity to go to the next country over: Ghana (aka 'The Promise Land' as some of my friends like to call it). Our trip to Ghana was both ordinary and monumental at the same time for me. Ghana is not far from Togo, but it was only the third African country I've been to, so I was really excited to experience a new place!

It was an extra special trip because one of my friends from the ship is from Ghana, so he took us on the grand tour of Ghana. I think he knew that we'd prefer a little nicer ride than the cars that look like they'll fall over if the wind blows too hard (like that last van we had on our trip up to the waterfall), so he made connections with someone over in Ghana and we had the same guy drive us for the whole weekend! We were all in shock to find it even had air conditioning! We were especially thankful for the good ride down to Takradi, especially since it was almost 8 hours from Lome.

Our wonderful van & driver, Victor

There was a group of about 12 of us from the ship, so it was nice to get to know people better that I don't get to interact with as often (it was on of the first trips I've been on where there were only a few nurses). We all enjoyed getting to know Gray's family and seeing him in his element back in his hometown.

One of the most meaningful experiences I had on the trip was our tours of the castles where the slaves were kept before being shipped to America and a few places in Europe. It was a very eye-opening experience seeing the dungeons that they were packed into and the tiny little air spaces they had. Some were kept in these small, dark, dirty spaces for weeks to months at a time. It was a very humbling time walking through the dungeons and seeing the underground tunnel that the slaves had to walk through to get to the place where they loaded the ships.

The tunnel the slaves had to pass through

While it made me really sad to think about what happened in the past, it was encouraging to see the forgiveness of the people we spoke with at the different castles. They emphasized the importance of learning from our mistakes and the importance of forgiving as God has forgiven us.

As we were coming down from our tour of the castle, I noticed that there was a fishing boat out on the bay and had the brilliant idea that we should all take a boat ride! I didn't think anyone would actually go along with my idea, but everyone seemed to like my idea and our wonderful tour guide, Gray, said it would be no problem! So, we headed to the fishing village and took a ride across the water.

Our boat didn't turn out to be exactly what I had pictured. It was a tiny little fishing boat and started to fill up with water a few minutes after we had started off. It didn't fill up enough to make us sink, but it did make for a little bit of a wet ride...kind of like the water rides at Disneyland :)

In the afternoon, we visited Gray's aunt at her restaraunt and she made us fufu, one of the common foods in West Africa. Then, we headed over to the naval base for a tour.

That evening, we went to a place where Gray used to visit when he was a kid. There was a big lagoon with a few boards nailed and stacked together to make what they apparently call a bridge. It was a little scary going across, especially when some of the boards looked like they would tip over if you stepped on them at the wrong angle. But, it was so much fun going across...I must not have appeared to be intimidated by the bridge at all because, as we were crossing the last few boards, my friend Lindsay said 'Becca, I could see you being on a show like Survivor'....I don't know about that, but it was definitely a fun little obstacle course.

After our fun little adventure across the lagoon, we hung out on the beach and enjoyed the sunset

The next day was a very exciting day...we headed to Cape Coast to meet up with some more friends who had a much longer, scarier, and more interesting drive down to Ghana (they had lots of stories to tell which were very amusing). Once we were all together again, we headed out to Kakum National Park to go through the famous canopy walk. The canopy walk is a series of seven rope bridges that are strung together through the trees, suspended 100 feet above the forest floor.

 

Despite the fact that we were really high up, the trees are so thick that you can't actually see the ground most of the time. So, walking across these bridges was less nerve-racking for me than our adventure across the lagoon. In fact, when I started off on the first bridge, I waited til the people in front of me crossed and began my adventure by excitingly "bouncing" across the bridge (you know, the way you do on those bridges on the playground with little kids). But I was quickly reprimanded by the officials and decided I better supress the child inside me until we were on level ground again. What can I say? Sometimes it just comes out!

                              

 

       Checking out all the trees and greenery below

After the canopy walk, we headed to the Cape Coast Castle, a major site for slave trade across the Atlantic starting in the late 18th century. It was another humbling site to see after the castle we had visited the day before.

Cape Coast Castle

Enjoying the cannons...you don't see these

every day!

After our tour of the castle, we headed to Hans Cottage for dinner. The restaraunt is above a lagoon where crocodiles swim around. It's a little strange walking on a path right above the crocodiles, but I enjoyed the change in scenery. After all, it's not every day you get to eat dinner with crocodiles!

The next day, we ventured into the big city of Accra. There, we visited the national monument and did some shopping in the market. After that,, my friend Jen and I decided that since we had one more day off, we should make the most of it and take a little trip together up north to Wli Falls. So, the group dropped us off at the waterfall and we headed off for another little adventure. The trip to the waterfall was very interesting and deserves a blog of it's own, so I'm going to have to leave you hanging for now..stay tuned for more adventures in Ghana!

Little miracles

Little O'Brian had been struggling for several days. He had come to the ship for our feeding program so that he could gain enough weight to be able to handle surgery. I took care of him two nights in a row and watched his little body struggle to breathe. The next day, I came in to work to find out that he had been moved to the ICU because his breathing had deteriorated. He had developed something called aspiration pneumonia and needed more than just oxygen...he had been placed on a CPAP machine to help his little lungs.

Fast forward to the next day. I'm upstairs getting my coffee and I see Ali, one of our ward supervisors. 'Did you hear about our little miracle,' she shrieked, barely able to contain her excitement. She was like a little kid on Christmas morning, ready to open presents. I could see by the look on her face that she had some great news...She went on to tell me this story:

Around midnight, our dear little O'Brian started to go downhill with a racing heart rate and falling oxygen saturations. His little lungs just couldn't make it on their own anymore. His nurse, Natalie did everything she could think of to help him recover, but nothing seemed to work. She called anesthesia and Dr. Gary (our maxillo-facial surgeon...not to mention, one of my personal heros). They came down to see little O'Brian and quickly decided they would have to intubate him and put him on a ventilator. There seemed to be no other option. He wouldn't make it if they didn't intervene quickly. Natalie and another ICU nurse, Jenny, rushed to get all of their supplies and draw up medications, preparing to intubate. As they rushed around, they glanced over to see Dr. Gary, head bowed and hands on little O'Brian's body. He was seeking help from the Lord, our healer. It was 12:20.

At 12:25, O'Brian's oxygen saturations jumped from sixty to a hundred percent. His racing heart slowed to normal, and the bewildered nurses put down their supplies. The surgeon and anesthetist thanked the Lord for his work as the Great Physician and headed to bed. And there lay little O'Brian, no longer needing his CPAP machine, no ventilators, or mask. The nurses were stunned in amazement and his miraculous recovery and had the amazing gift of witnessing a little miracle on D Ward.

After hearing Ali's story, I could see why she was so excited that she was nearly jumping up and down. Miracles do still happen....and I know that little O'Brian's story has increased all of our faith and reminded us of the power of prayer!