Benin 2009 (photos at the bottom of page)
Lots of people have mentioned that they enjoyed my blog last year from Liberia, thank you all for reading, thank you even more if you posted a message in my guest book.
I’m hoping to reach more people with this blog this year, so if you know anyone who might be interested please send them the link.
Cheers
Ali
Day -1
Well folks it’s that time again. Time to pack sun cream, time to buy as many one dollar bills as Kingston Park Tesco’s can provide, time to get my passport out, time to head off back to Africa. Why does this feel like it’s just one trip in a series when I have no idea whether it’ll be trip number two of many or trip number two of just two? Maybe it’s because I found such good friends in Liberia last year. Maybe it’s because I fitted in so well. Maybe it’s just because the idea routine is comfortable and appealing. Maybe it’s because it saves me having to think of a new thing.
Like last year life immediately before heading off has become more hectic than ever. Somehow it seems that the people who need our time and love most end up getting least and those who just come along and shout loudest get the greater part of our attention. Maybe I am one of the ones who ends up shouting loudly in other people’s lives, taking undue attention from them, hmmm...I hope not. I guess that’s up to you and Him to decide.
One of the joys of being on the ship last year was the rest from responsibility. Don’t get me wrong, I like running the practices, get a kick from teaching dental nurses, love what I do in church, scouts & D of E. And the sheer joy I can find in the pulp chamber of a good twisty upper molar is close to illegal. But to have two weeks where food & shelter are provided, someone else tells you when to get up, when to go to bed, where and when to work and where and when to stop gives a level of rest that I don’t get very often here. Who ever said institutionalisation was a bad thing!
So how do I feel as I prepare to head off again? Well I have a mixed set of emotions, excitement, anxiety, anticipation, trepidation. Mostly I think I am worried that it’ll be a let down. I had such a good time last year that I don’t really believe this trip will be as good. It certainly won’t be as new. On the other hand I going hand in hand with the same God and my understanding of Him this year is that little bit better and I feel that little bit more reliant on Him and that’s got to be a good thing.
I guess I’m a little worried I’ll have too much time on me Bill (alone), not quite fitting in with the twenty something year out volunteers nor the sixty something newly retired volunteers who between them make up the greater part of the ship’s crew. I’ve downloaded a good couple off Gigs worth of BBC iplayer just in case but would rather come home having not watched any.
Mind you as I type now I realise I’m now only putting off the inevitable last bit of packing. I need to put this laptop down (which will be difficult since Teresa is convinced it’s been surgically attached), sort out the last bit of washing and should really go to bed. I’ve got to be up at 4.00am tomorrow morning and I really don’t think that suddenly realising my passport has run out would be a good idea at that time of the morning.
Now’s the time to shut my eyes, hold my breath and take the plunge. Here goes...
Day zero – part one
Wide wide as the ocean
High as the heavens above
Deep deep as the deepest sea
Is my saviour’s love.
.
Wide wide as The Sahara
High as the plane flies above
Hot hot as the weather here
Is my life on the ship.
Narrow as a airline seat
Deep as the bowels of the ship
Sore sore as my head can be
Is my life on the ship.
.
Dull dull as an airport
Scary as squirrel in sauce
Useless as my dollars are
Is my life on the ship.
.
Great great to meet people I know
Hard work as all the hello’s
Fed up of asking “Where do you come from?”
Is my life on the ship.
.
I, though, so unworthy
Still am a child of His care
For His word teaches me that His love reaches me
Everywhere.
Hey Al, you’re a missionary now. Tough it out.
Day Zero – part two.
Sorry for the very short blog yesterday but with more than 20 hours of travelling between getting up and getting back to bed I wasn’t really up for saying much.
The journey here was easy enough, if rather tedious. Airports, which as a child were places of excitement and opportunity, are definitely way down on my list of interesting things to do & see. Having said that I never ceased to be amazed at the stuff they have on sale. Who gets passed security and suddenly realises that the one thing they need in life is a two thousand euro glass statue of a Can Can dancer, which will probably get broken as it get stuffed into an overhead locker!
Once again the Sahara was an amazing sight. The contrast is immense. We flew over the green landscape of France, dotted with settlements and criss crossed with roads, before nipping over the snow of the mountains, slicing the eastern edge of Spain and a short hop over the Mediterranean before continuing on to Africa. The first few seconds of coastline were inhabited but after that there were three hours of un-interrupted nothingness. The scale is impossible to judge from 30,000ft but I’m guessing a feature would need to be fairly big for me to see it, and many of them looked pretty big even from that height. Dune ranges with mesodunes (& I guess microdunes too) superimposed on top of them. Valley systems and changes in the colour of the sand covering areas I would guess to be city size seemed to be common place. It’s got to be a place to visit sometime, maybe when it’s cold & horrible back home!
The edge of the desert marked the edge of my viewing, cloud came in over what I know from the map to be rain forest. Well, I guess it needs the cloud to rain! By the time we landed in Cotonou it was dark. Very dark.
Unlike Liberia last year my little Mercy Ships logo didn’t act as a “pass all security” scheme. So I waited in line after line having the same documents checked by different people, all of whom seemed intent of giving me a more quizzical look than the last one. Maybe if there was only one person from the ship doing this journey I would understand how arriving with unusual documentation might confuse people. But since the girl in front and the guy in front of her were presenting the same documents you might expect them to be less surprising after a while. Apparently not. Still my bags got though, my passport got stamped and I got into Benin.
The big white jeeps were there again, but this time they we accompanied not just by “a nice man with a Mercy Ships cap on” but also by old friends. Robbie the American hygienist, Reily the South African filmographer, Tom the American plumber / driver. And this time I’m not the newbie. That honour, for today at least, goes to a Canadian nurse and a Dutch operating room attendant. First time in Benin, first time in Africa, which makes it my first time to be the reassuring “you’ll be OK” guy; that’s cool.
Day One. Saturday 21st Feb 2009
Hmmm. I think I owe you all an apology.
The end of my first blog suggested I might need to tough it out. Well here’s where I been toughing it out today!
see photo album for pictures
30 degrees, slightly hazy sunshine, a little bit of a cooling breeze and a dip in the pool whenever I get too hot. But I do have t rub my own sun cream on and after wearing a wet Buff (trendy walkers cloth hat) to cool my head down I end up with a bit of a bad hair day. But like I said, I’m toughing it out!
Actually there is a downside to this pool. They have a “no shorts” rule for men’s swim suits. That means Speedo’s only, and boy does that look not suit me. Maybe they have in mind there’ll be lots of hunky Daniel Craig types but I don’t think I fit that model. Actually I don’t think I look like any sort of model. Just be glad I’m behind the camera not in front of it!
When we were in Liberia I shared a cabin with two fantastic room mates and had nearly a week of the time with no room mate at all. That was one of my greatest comforts last year. To be able to come back from the clinic, strip off, jump in the shower and have an hour of peace & quite to myself. This year it’s all a bit different. I’m sharing with three other guys in a room which, although it does have a window, has not seen daylight for three weeks now. Between the four of us we work and sleep shifts that cover the whole twenty four hours so there’s always someone sleeping in the cabin. My space is an upper bunk, a little under three feet from the ceiling, so I’ve unpacked, slept, washed, showered and bumped my head all in silence and in the dark. I’d tell you about my room mates but so far all I’ve seen of them is a foot or a bit of hair sticking out from under a duvet, so I don’t know how old they are, what they do or where they come from. It also means I have nowhere private to go. I’m currently in the “wireless area” just above the currently closed Starbucks cafe, though I’ll need to save this onto a stick to take it to one of the public computers to upload it. I’m looking out of a starboard window at open ocean and behind me is the fishing harbour of Cotonou. The ships engines are a constant drone, a little bit louder at the moment as we are moving a few feet along the dock for some reason. There are a group of five people playing Settlers of Catan and some kids watching cartoons. If you have in mind the sort of level of noise & hubbub you get in an airport lounge (and I spent plenty of time in them yesterday) you’ll get the picture. Nobody is doing anything unreasonable, no one is being unduly noisy, there’s nobody harassing, talking to, or even paying attention to me, but it’s not private, it’s not MY space.
Day 2 – Sunday 22nd February 2009
Google Earth fans might want to know where I am. So here's my location:
N 06 deg 20.819 min
E 02 deg 25.954 min
We are moored on the inshore side of the eastern harbour wall of Cotonou harbour. Our bow is pointing at the fishing port and our stern out to sea. My cabin is port side so my view is (or would be if the curtains were ever open) of a very rusty looking car transporter and an even rustier container ship, both registered in Palermo.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Tolerance.
That sounds like a good word. I wonder what it means.
We’re in Africa on a ship with a dual purpose of medicine and mission. We have no doubt that our motivation comes from our faith and that to share our faith is an equally important part of our purpose as to share our skills.
The mercy ships four core values are
1. We love God
2. We love and serve others
3. We are people of integrity
4. We are committed to excellence in all we say and do
You cannot avoid the fact that sharing our faith is as key to our purpose here as sticking needles in people’s gums.
But what about tolerance? How can I travel half way across the world, to a culture I do not know, to a people I do not understand, and tell them that what they have believed for generations is wrong? What gives me the right to say “Your gods are not God. My God is God. My God is the only God”?
Do my skilled hands (wearing the nice non-latex gloves I brought with me this time!) give me that right?
Does my presence here, having left my business, my friends, my family, give me that right?
What about my money? The lost income, the cost of a plane ticket and crew fees, does that gift to the people of Africa give me the right to share my faith?
Or maybe my association with the Mercy Ships. An organisation that has released thousands of people from blindness, pain, disability and stigma. Does their endorsement of my service give me the right?
The answer must be an emphatic no. It does not.
What about the history of my country? Do the actions of empire building Britons affect my right to share my faith?
What about slave traders, slavery abolitionists, road builders, educationists, feminists, misogynists, cotton barons, oil barons, arms traders, debt lenders, debt collectors or debt cancellers? Do their actions give me the right to say to an African that his traditional beliefs are wrong? Or to an American that his view of God and Nation is distorted? Or, more closely to my heart to my countrymen that their passive agnosticism, is a poor excuse for a faith?
Can I say to my family, my friends, to my staff, my patients or to a stranger that I know a thing that they do not? Can I say that I believe that I am right and they are wrong? Can I say to them that there is objective truth and that their opinion is, quite frankly, wrong?
Well, yes I believe I can.
And that’s what I tolerance is. My right to tell you what I believe. My right to offend you with my ideas. My right to disagree.
Of course the opposite argument must also be true. You have the right to tell me I wrong, I’m stupid, I’m delusional.
You have the right to say “I don’t believe you”, “I believe you but I will not follow you”, or even “I believe you but I will try to persuade others not to listen to you.”
You have the right to label me as week, misguided, a bigot, old fashioned or a quaint anomaly.
You have the right to say “Hey, whatever works for you!”, and in that statement, usually made without thinking too hard, insult all I stand for and believe in.
You have the right to not to think about faith at all.
You have the right to believe whatever you like.
I, and many of you, live in a country where the concept of tolerance has become distorted. I am hailed as tolerant if I use the right words to describe groups to whom people belong. If I know how many people in my city have one geographical, religious, sexual background or another. If I can find twenty ways to help someone in a wheel chair use the toilet, and if I am careful not to say anything that you might disagree with.
That is not tolerance. It is fear. Fear of being labelled racist, sexist or homophobic. Fear of being sued. Fear of losing my job if I dare to express an opinion that goes against what has become accepted this year as “normal”.
Tolerance is seeing a person who I am required to love despite their history. I will be tolerant of the man who has beaten his wife or who has sold drugs to kids. I will be tolerant to the person who has cut me up on the motorway, to the boy racer who drives past my kid’s school. I will be tolerant of the bloke next door who’s engines rev loudly till past midnight, who’s bass is turned way up and who’s disregard for building site safety keeps cutting my electricity supply. I will be tolerant to the friend who has betrayed me, to the person who dumps rubbish in my hedge, who puts graffiti on my buildings or who spreads lies, rumour and hatred about me among those I rely on.
I will not excuse these people. I will not say it doesn’t matter. I will not say it does not hurt or that it’s not their fault. I will not remove their responsibility for their actions. I will not say they are welcome do it again. Rather I will accept their behaviour for what it is, wrong. And I will forgive it.
Tolerance costs. Tolerance costs a lot.
Tolerance demands my ideas are challenged. It demands that I act kindly towards people who have only themselves to blame for their own mess. Because I am the head of a family it also demands a price from my family. If I reach out to help others Teresa, Zoe & Robyn are obliged to reach out with me. Tolerance may mean they see less of me than they would like. It might mean they have less stuff than they would like. It might mean no foreign holiday this year. It might mean welcoming people they would rather not into our home. Tolerance often seems to require me to sacrifice my cosy place. It wants me to turn off the TV and make a phone call I’d rather not bother with.
Tolerance might mean I have to reach out for a world that doesn’t want me. Tolerance means I might have to accept insults when what I deserve is thanks. Tolerance might mean I have to watch my Son receive the same treatment.
It might mean my Son has to leave me for a while.
It might mean He also is betrayed.
It might mean He is rejected when all He brought was acceptance.
It might mean I have to watch my Son die to save a people who have no desire to be saved and only themselves to blame for their own mess.
It might mean I pay a price beyond comprehension.
I am the recipient of such tolerance and I WILL pass it on. I WILL accept such tolerance for what it is. Not deserved, not dependant on any condition, not cheap, not to be accepted lightly.
I am here to do teeth and do faith. You may not agree with that. You may not want me to be involved either your teeth or your faith, but that doesn’t alter the facts.
Tolerate it.
Day 3 - Monday 23rd February 2009
Yesterday’s blog reflected my rather ruminative mood. Today I am mostly exhausted so I have set myself an easier task than changing the entire world with one little blog
Hold tight...
Here goes...
A – Africa
B – Benin
C – Cotonou
D – Dental team
E – Evacuation plan. (I’ve just done a long health & safety lecture)
F – French speaking
G – Gerkas (they guard the ship from the pirates around here)
H – Hospital ship
I – Internet cafe (that’s where I am now)
J – Jesus
K – Knight in Shining Armour (who didn’t exist)
L – Liberia (well that’s a bit of a cheat but I’m tired)
M – Missing home
N – New experiences (lots of them)
O – Oral disease
P – Patients (that’s why I’m here)
Q – Queen’s Loung (the ship used to be Danish and the queen of Denmark had her own suite)
R – Rip tides (means that we can’t swim in the sea safely )
S – Starbucks (there’s one on board. I had a Frappe, hazelnut, coconut, single shot. Very American)
T – Teeth
U – Umbrella ( no one will need one in Benin until the rainy season in August)
V – VVF surgery. (helps women left incontinent after childbirth)
W – Waves. (we’re in port but the ship moves enough to make me sea sick every now and then)
X – x-ray machine. (a hand held nomad in the clinic, an OPG & CT scanner on board)
Y – youth. (there are 65 people under 18 years old on board. All serving for 6mths or more)
Z – Zimi Jon (the motorbikes everyone rides at 90MPH, no helmet, no highway code, little chance of survival)
This blog challenge was set by ZB. If you would like to suggest a blog challenge just post it in a guest book message
Day 4 - Tuesday 24th February 2009
Well it’s official. I am old.
I know that I am old because I am stuck in my ways.
I know that I am stuck in my ways because I do the same things in Africa as I do back at home.
I know that I do the same things in Africa as I do back at home because I spent most of today teaching dental nurses and telling stories!
I’ve posted some more pics to the photo album. Not too many as the band width here is very poor at the moment and we restricted to 10MB use per day -so no high graphics surfing for me.
For those of you who are interested in such things, we discussed the difference between vacuum & non-vacuum autoclaves amongst other cross infection issues, the use of PDL injections, care of handpieces, use of adrenaline / adrenaline free drugs, prescribing, rubber dam...all my old favourites really!
What of course is interesting from a teacher’s point of view is the compromises we are forced to make and deciding which ones we will accept (cold disinfection of aspirator tubes) and which ones we won’t (running the autoclave at 121 deg). I’ve yet to get into the delights of molar endo and since last year my treatments were about one simple filling for every 100 teeth extracted, I’m not expecting to do any either. I’ll just have to save it up for when I get back. Still Rebecca &Kelly, though not Kathryn or Donna anymore should send messages of sympathy to RoseAnn & Karen (if you post them in the guestbook I’ll pass them on. He he he)
I think tomorrow I might get to play with the hygienists about LA, the new dentists about surgical extractions and I’m up for some training on the use of through & through drains. That’ll be interesting as I’ve not placed one yet.
As for stories “Go Eve” came back at request & I think we’ll go with “The three little Christian’s” tomorrow.
This evening I have been celebrating Pancake Day with the rest of the Brits before heading up onto the top deck for tea and scones and a chance to talk about Dr Who and enjoy not having to explain every joke.
That’s it for today, I might try for a less diarising & more personal upload tomorrow. Or then again if I’m too tired I might not.
Day 5 - Wednesday 25th February 2009
Jealousy and Servanthood
Today I am struggling.
We spent yet another day setting up the clinic today. I know, only too well that dental surgeries don’t just pop up by magic. I know because over the years I have built several, and overseen while stressed members of my staff have built a few too. – Thanks especially to Amanda, Katie and most recently Lisa.
I know that they need water, compressed air and electricity. I know that they need instruments, disposables, and all the paraphernalia of office life. I know that autoclaves are temperamental things and that it takes weeks of planning & thought.
I know that because I have built more dental surgeries than anyone in the dental team here. I know that my schoolboy French is better than most people’s on the ship. I know that it was perfectly fair for other members of the dental team to get to spend a day doing exciting reconstructive facial surgery on the ship while I had my head down a sewer and my arms in, well you can guess!
But I have to say I’m suffering from a bit of disappointment. Last year I was doing teeth within just a few hours of landing in Africa, whereas this year nearly a third of my time has gone and I still haven’t pulled anything out! I’m sure I’ve been useful, fixing stuff, teaching stuff, translating stuff etc. but it would be nice to do some teeth.
Anyway, before this all gets too heavy I am quite willing to accept that I came to the Africa Mercy to serve and not getting to choose what you do is part of being a servant. Actually, for a great deal of my life I have huge freedom of choice I’d I’m very grateful for that. It’s good for me to just have to shut up & put up, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a grumble about it.
Having moaned about that we are due to see pt’s tomorrow & I did spend a chunk of today teaching. I also had some really good avocado with my tea (along with something very green and very strange and very bitter that I WON’T be eating again)
Oh well, that’s all really. See ya later – keep those guest book messages coming.
One more thing for the nerds:
The clinic location is:
N 06 deg 23.195 min
E 02 deg 28.245 min
Day 6 Thursday 26thFebruary 2009
We finally got to do teeth today. We arrived at the clinic this morning to a crowd of around three hundred people! (And I usually get stressed if I have two or three people waiting!). It all descended fairly quickly into a typical west African melee of arms, open mouths and pointing fingers as people tried to convince us that theirs was the worst problem.
In the end we let the first thirty or so people through and then selected “les enfants moins douze ans!”(kids) and a few of the worst swellings. That left us with about two days worth of patients so everyone else got sent away while the people selected waited in our yard. Those who made it into the yard but didn’t get seen today will come back tomorrow & wait again. In reality this was a hopelessly inadequate way of screening and triaging the patients and we need to come up with a much better plan by Monday. Tomorrow we will share our work space with the ophthalmologists, so with a bit of luck I’ll be able to watch something interesting.
The patients were suffering from the same mix of caries (decay), periodontal (gum) disease and infection that they will be when I get back to Hadrian Park and Ashington. The difference is the advanced nature of the disease and the complications associated with that advanced stage [see the case report] and the enormous number of people we need to make things happen. We currently have four dentists, two hygienists and two dental nurses in our clinical team. We also have two coordinators, a dental steriliser, a receptionist, a councillor / evangelist, five translators, two electricians / handy men, a plumber / welder, two pastors / comforters, eight security guards / bouncers and a representative from the local ministry of ...er, I’m not quite sure what department he’s from but he makes sure the power cuts don’t last two long. That’s a total of thirty one people just to take a tooth out. I’ve not even counted the others left back on the ship. How many would it take to change a light bulb I wonder!
Still we did eventually get going and start to rattle through the patients. Most Beninese people have never seen a dentist before so coming into a large (10m square) room with eight dental chairs running is a pretty daunting experience, especially for the young ones, who can’t even ask their parents what is happening as they don’t know either.
Just to add to the fun of it all, because the man from the ministry (and yes he does have a pinstripe suit on!) can’t guarantee the power is always on we run off 2 large petrol driven generators and three medium size compressors. These, of course, have their cables and compressed airlines running to each chair and make a noise similar to a pair of pneumatic road drills. These are housed just outside our window so the air lines can be poked though!
Fortunately the history taking, initial diagnosis and post op. instructions are done by our dental nurses so all I have to do is calm the patient down, explain the treatment , get consent for the treatment and carry out the treatment, oh and do it with two chairs at a time and all in French!
Bonjour mademoiselle. Je m’appelle docteur Ali. Tu et très jolie. Qu’elle âge a tu? Ma fille, elle s’appelle Robyn, elle a onze ans. Ou et la dent qui et mal?
And so on!
The fact that we are able to treat anybody and even manage to send most patients out with a smile, all be it a bit lopsided and with a bit of dribble is testament to the skill, flexibility and tenacity of the team. Of course the single member of the team who makes the greatest difference is the team leader, and this year we have the enormous privilege to be led by someone who seems to know each of our individual strengths and weaknesses. They have been for us, at various times, a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on and a swift kick up the backside as and when each is needed. They constantly encourage, support and help. He is a wonderful councillor and a great physician. He has a real Lionheart but has such humility that most people think of him as a lamb. Each morning before we start work we have a team meeting where he speaks to us and his words make us feel more alive. He has provided for us everything we have needed, every day. In the middle of day, in the storm that is the dental clinic he has a still, small voice, that brings peace. I have heard him singing songs of delight over us as we work, he looks at what he has accomplished and he not only knows that it is good, he tells us too. I know he cares about the Beninese patients and us in equal amounts, he treats us all as though we were his own children. I have seen him cry over the plight of the poor, it’s as though he just wants to gather them under his wings and cluck over and mother them. And yet at the same time he is an unstoppable force. Woe betide anyone who gets on the wrong side of him! Once he has set his mind on a thing nothing can stop him. He knows more than any of us about dentistry in Benin. He’s been around, steady as a rock for ages, but for someone as old as he is he is still fresh every morning. Over the years I have worked in many teams, in many organisations and for many leaders. But I can honestly say that our leader here is a leader of leaders, a boss of bosses. I am sure that his time in charge here will NEVER end. It is because he is in charge that the blind can be given their sight, that those who could not walk are given mobility, that people imprisoned by disability, shame or stigma are set free and that, for a change, good news is spreading amongst the poor. I have spoken to him personally on this trip and I believe it when he tells me he loves me. He knows how I am put together, he understands that I have my limitations but although he still sets standards higher than I can even dream of achieving, as long as I am honest with him, he doesn’t hold my failures against me. It amazes me that he has time enough to spend with each of us. I wish you all could meet him. I think some of you already have.
Case report – Beninese style!
We saw a 40(ish) year old lady today, with a large (10cm x 6cm) skin ulcer on the lower border of the mandible (lower jaw) [see photo album]. In the centre of this ulcer was a fistula (hole) about 5mm in diameter leading from the outside right into her mouth such that if she drank anything the liquid would come out of the hole and dribble down her neck. She also had a severe case of Candidiasis (thrush / athlete’s foot in the mouth) and very smelly (and therefore presumably anaerobic bacterial) infection from her right eye, down through her cheek and neck and into her chest. Her case reminded me of the first man I saw in Liberia last year who we were able to send into the ship for intensive care. Unfortunately the ship’s isolation unit was full and she ought not be allowed into a standard ward for fear of infecting the other patient’s recovering surgical wounds.
So our options were pretty limited:
a) Do nothing, and accept that she will die of this infection with a few days
b) Attempt to bring her on to the ship anyway accepting the risk of hospital borne infection
c) Attempt to remove the cause of the infection (a decayed lower right first molar) and hope that her body can fight off the infection with a standard antibiotic regime (500mg amoxyl, 400mg metronidazole), accepting that there is a chance that our intervention spreads her infection and brings her death sooner than otherwise.
I can tell you now that Dag (our long term serving Norwegian dentist) and I debated each option carefully but did not agree on which course of action was best. This was a matter of clinical opinion. Neither of us were knowledgeable enough about this sort of treatment, in these sort of conditions, with this lack of information (no xrays, no culture, no proper diagnosis, no reliable medical history, no specialist to refer on to) to be sure of the correct course of action. Both of us knew we had to balance the needs of the many against the needs of the individual. Both of us wanted this lady to have a long and fulfilling life. Both of us were prepared to go out on a limb to help her achieve this.
What did we do?
Oh come on, I can’t tell you that until you tell me what you would have done!
Post your descision to the guest book or email & I’ll email you back and let you know.
Day 7 Friday 27thFebruary 2009
Today I have mostly been pulling teeth. We did manage one restoration of a chipped upper central tooth while we waited for some other bits to go numb, but we weren’t able to prep the cavity properly so it’ll probably fall off!
The big news on the ship today was a visit by the president of Benin. He came to the ship to express his gratitude, to invite us [though I suspect he didn’t mean all 450 of us] to a dinner at his palace, and to award us the “Order of Merit of Benin”. I think that probably entitles me to use some more letters after my name, hmmm, that’ll be handy then!
I was struck by how difficult it must be for the president of an ancient nation like this one to have to admit he needs help from charities and volunteers. He came across as both confident and humble, gracious and strong. I don’t know really, I know nothing about his background, his policies or his achievements, but it was kind of fun watching his secret service men jogging along beside his car and then standing around the ship with bulges under their jackets where their guns were purposely barely concealed.
Dinner was up a notch or two tonight in case he decided to stay so we had mussels in tomato sauce with rice & broccoli. Yum.
After the visit, and the crew were allowed to change out of uniform / posh frocks, back into shorts & t shirts, I spent the evening playing The Great Delmuti. No hats though
Tomorrow I hope to go exploring Benin.
Day 8 - Saturday 28th February 2009
Today I have prooved myself worthy of my nationality. I now not only sound like but also look like Sebastian the French lobster from The Little Mermaid so I'm gonna stop blogging and go and bathe in aftersun.
Ow!
Day 9 Sunday 1stMarch 2009
Sunburn & Diarrhoea
Africa has hit me hard today. It has hit me with a sledge hammer and it continues to do so every fifteen minutes on the dot.
I’m typing this during a fourteen minute period of relief, but don’t worry, I’ll not let on how long it takes me to write a blog, sparing you at least the numerical details of Africa’s mission to turn me inside out.
Of course what is interesting is that of my two major ailments, one is entirely self inflicted whilst the other is the result of external influence. One is my own doing whereas one is someone else’s fault. So whilst I would like you all to feel sorry for me as you picture me on the toilet for the umpteenth time today can I expect sympathy for my sunburn? Well I don’t really think so. I didn’t deliberately set out to burn myself but it was my own miscalculations, my own lack of care, my own failure to ensure that the sunshade I was snoozing under would be big enough to keep me covered when the sun moved round.
I’m reminded of the story in the news just a week or so ago about a young girl who was burned in an unstaffed sun bed salon. The question that inevitably arose was whose fault was it? Was the sun bed owner to blame or was it up to the girl to take her own sensible precautions? Well, no doubt expensive lawyers will argue that one out in court and my bet is on the salon owner paying up. But of course there are many situations we find ourselves in where things have gone wrong and it’s entirely our own fault. From the simple missing of the bus because I wanted that extra snooze, to a hangover, all the way to marriages breaking down because someone failed to walk away from a smile that lingered a little too long or a touch that just and just crossed a boundary.
But just because a thing is my own fault does that mean I have to get out of it myself? Well, if my sunburn is enough to make me a bit sore for a few days I don’t really expect anyone to go out of their way to help me. In fact I’m just glad when they refrain from slapping me on the shoulders! If on the other hand I had, as I thought I was getting last night, sunstroke and begun vomiting and dehydrating then I would expect someone to take care of me.
I said before that my diarrhoea was not my fault. Well, maybe even that is. I chose to come to Africa, and it’s the kind of thing that happens here. The thing is, we often dress up our problems to try to make it sound like they weren’t our own silly fault and therefore elicit more sympathy. I see it all the time in the surgery. The answer, madam, to your rotten teeth is sugar and oral hygiene. You can talk till you are blue in the face about your great Auntie Maud’s lack of milk during the war, but if you eat too much sugar, too often, you’ll get rotten teeth. It is, to all intents and purposes your own fault.
So does that mean I deserve no sympathy? I hope not.
Many things in my life are my own fault. Many things in my friend’s lives are their own fault. Many of the things that appear to be external harms are only a result of clinging onto a false idea or a false hope. Over the years I have known people who stay in harmful relationships when they should take responsibility, bite the bullet and leave. I have known people who stay up night after night doing who knows what on their computer and seem to be surprised when they lose their Va Va Voom, their job and even their friends. I know there are things that God has told me to do that I have not done, and then I wonder why I find it hard to connect to his blessings. But fault is not the issue here.
Sure there are times when we are hurt by people or circumstances where there is no fault or the fault lies firmly in someone else’s camp, but deciding who is to blame has little to do with getting over it.
Those of us who are Christians have accepted that many of the things that are wrong in our lives are our own fault. We have accepted that providing excuses is not an acceptable substitute for confession. Until I confess to the ship nurse that I didn’t take enough care of my skin to stop it from burning I cannot receive her help. Until I confess to God that my life is less than perfect I cannot receive his forgiveness. Until I accept responsibility for my own actions I cannot be forgiven. And that perhaps is one of the greatest hurdles to forming a relationship with God.
I understand when my non-Christian, mostly agnostic (of no certain belief), friends say they don’t know if God is there or not. I get that. He doesn’t provide the sort of scientific proof that they would like. I understand when they get a poor impression of God as a result of all the atrocious acts committed in the name of religion. I completely understand when they say they could relate to God, just not to the church. What I cannot accept, however, is the excusing of our failures by denial of the blame or the standard.
“Well, I’m not the worst bloke in the world.”
“I try to live a good life. I think I’m pretty good.”
“Yeah but I was provoked.”
“I’m afraid.”
All of these may be reasons for our failure to be perfect, they are just not excuses. Jesus summed up the standards we need to live by in just two sentences, “Love God with all your strength. Love others as yourself.” It’s not difficult to understand. It is difficult to do.
If I am going to love God with all my strength that will cost me. I will need to surrender my autonomy to Him, there is no place for pride or selfish ambition. I will have to sacrifice the plans I have for my life and my family and follow his plans.
If I am going to love other people as much as I love myself, I will have to go out of my way to help them. The odd £5 to comic relief is not going to cut it. Dropping off a few clothes at the charity shop is not how much I love myself. I clothe myself every day. I spend money on myself every day. I care about my own feelings every day. That’s what Jesus calls us to.
So where does that leave me? Two pages in from an opening about sunburn and diarrhoea and all I know so far is that Ali judges me by a standard I cannot hope to reach, and he doesn’t even claim to reach.
But that’s where Jesus steps in. We find Jesus in our rock bottom moment. Sure we find him in our celebrations too, but when my world has gone wrong, and it’s my own fault, that when Jesus steps in. You see, He knows whose fault it is and, I suspect, He doesn’t care. What he wants is to offer us hope. To offer us a way out. Do I send the patient who eats too much sugar away? No. I want her to admit fault so that she can avoid further problems, but even if she doesn’t I still treat her tooth with as much care and skill as I can. Does Jesus say to us, “It’s your fault. You got yourself into this mess, you can get yourself out of it!”. No. If we admit our fault He is faithful and just and forgives us from all our wrongdoing.
As I write I have in mind one particular friend who has suffered from fear of harm coming to her children. Her fear is, at times, all consuming. It invades her dreams and keeps her awake. Can I take away that fear? Can I convince her that it’ll be alright? No
What she needs is a relationship with a God who knows what will happen to her children. Who is in charge of the universe. She needs a relationship with a God who will forgive her, accept her. Who is probably not interested in all the whys and the wherefores, who doesn’t demand that we understand Him, or that we muster up some kind of belief. She needs a relationship with a God who is just desperate to climb down into whatever pit she has got herself into to be with her and help her out. So how does she start that relationship? By just calling out to him. By accepting that some stuff is her own fault. By asking for forgiveness.
It’s a hard lesson to learn, that our guilt is both one and the same time enormous and removed. But that is the crux of Christianity. And the result is freedom. So often it appears that following Jesus is a set of rules, but it really is not. The result of accepting both my guilt and Jesus forgiveness is freedom. Accepting my guilt without his forgiveness will lead me into a life of religion (organised or otherwise), forever trying to absolve myself by working harder and harder to attain an unreachable release. Trying to behave as though I have no guilt will always lead me down a path of self destruction, of broken relationships and unfulfilled dreams. It tends to lead to hollow and unsatisfying behaviour patterns and somehow the freedom I thought I’d find by denying my guilt just melts away.
So what of sunburn and diarrhoea? They’ll both pass (hmm, poor choice of words for the diarrhoea!) but if they help to remember just how good it is to be a follower of Jesus then that’s a fair price to pay. I may not have bodily freedom right now. I may only be able to go a very short distance from my cabin but I have all the freedom in the world. I have life, life in all it’s abundance. And I know who to blame for that!
Day 10 Monday 2nd March 2009
New photos in the photo gallery today. Some of the dental clinic up and running, we now have six chairs, four dentists, two hygienists and three nurses. Only one of the chairs as both air and water to it, one has just air and the others are about as useful as the sun lounger in your back garden.
My tally today was thirty teeth extracted inluding four surgicals (kinda tricky with no water or suction, but hey you can't have it all!). No fillings. For those of you who are into these things I am using about twice as much LA as I would need to at home. We use standard 2% lignoacaine / 1:80,000 adrenaline. I'd rather use articaine but we've run out. We have no Citanest but since the medical histories are wildly inaccurate we'd probably use it on all the wrong patients anyway.) We regularly give bilateral IDB's and often extract in all four quadrants. Most common are molar roots, usually lower 6,7,8 and upper 6,7's. Upper 8's for some reason seem to be more intact. Perhaps it's luck, or perhaps there's something different about the occlusion. We also saw another osteomylitis, a left palate and a probable ameloblastoma though I didn't get to play with them as neither of my chairs have water or suction. We also had several people attend the worng clinic, mostly for goitres or opthamology. I didn't do them either!Today's teaching has been on flap design and bone removal.
The other set of pictures are of Ganvie. A town of about 20,000 people in the middle of a lake about 10km north of Cotonou. The story goes that the villiagers who lived there were being taken and sold as slaves by the local Dahomey kings. Dahomey warriors however were afraid of the spirits who lived in water, so the Ganvie people decided to live in the water to protect themselves from being taken as slaves. The water is about six to eight feet deep. You'll also see the trees and shrubs they embed into the lake to cultivate the fish they live on.
At while I'm at it here's one more for the nerds:
Ganvie
N 06 deg 27.815 min
E 02 deg 23.646 min
Day 11. Tuesday 3rdMarch 2009
“Time is an illusion, lunchtime doubly so”
Time does funny things. It distorts my view of other people, especially when I been on a plane and had to reset my watch! When I am busy, I expect other people to be busy. When I am relaxing, I assume the same of other people. When it’s time for me to chat or play or relax I expect it to be that time for other people too.
In the UK that mostly works for me, with my friend overseas who I don’t speak to that often I probably use an untimed method of communication like a letter or a postcard. But on this ship, where technology rules large, I use email and MSN and my conversations cross thousands of miles and several time zones in a moment. But because I’m not in the time zone as you I don’t pick up on how hungry, or tired, or busy you are, and I often misread the cues.
For example, today I was trying to communicate by email with the practices. Normally during my working day I check my emails two or three times a day at most, so when a reply takes three or four hours I consider it quick. On the ship, in the evenings, I tend to sit with my laptop either alone in my cabin (when I am being enthroned by Africa’s gastrointestinal finest) or with the rest of the crew upstairs (when I am being entertained by the world’s finest). So of course an answer to an email coming even just a few minutes later seems to be a long wait. This happened to me this evening and within just a few lines of conversation this mismatch of expectation of time had led to misinterpretation of another person’s responses – now would be the right time for me to say sorry to Amanda so here it is – “sorry”.
This gets me to thinking about how we interpret each other’s actions and reactions. We’ve had for a long time now a ban on SMS text communication in the practice, mostly because it is such an easy medium to misinterpret another person’s responses. I am told often by my Mum & Dad “it’s been a long time since you phoned.” “Is it?” is my genuine reaction. It seemed like a short time to me. Different time zones, different stages of life, different periods of activity and calm can make us interpret the interval between conversations very differently from the person we are talking to.
Maybe the dental nurse who is getting a dressing down at work feels as though I am moaning on and on yet again, whereas I, being party to exactly the same conversation, feel as though I’ve waited ages and given her chance after chance before bringing the subject up again.
Maybe the parent who asks their teenager what homework they have thinks they are being interested in their child’s development but that teenager, who again is party to the same conversation, feels as though they are being nagged incessantly.
A few of us noted, on memorable Trumpton evening, that wives often complain that they don’t see enough of their husbands, but that their husbands don’t often have the same complaint. Despite the fact that a wife and a husband must see each other for exactly the same length of time as the other one does!
If you have begun to think that this blog is just an excuse for me to go sermonising you’ll be pleased to know that I have no idea what the point of this observation is. Maybe it’s just to be aware that someone else may well have a very different view of the communication we share. Maybe it means I should phone my mum and dad more (I’ll try!), maybe it means we should be more aware of the limitations of the media we use (so full and frank discussions of differences of opinion by text message are off the menu!).
While I have been in Africa , both this year and last, I have found your emails, your guestbook comments, and the MSN conversations I have had a wonderful connection with home. Maybe my point then, is to encourage us all, to get round to writing that email, text, post card, letter to someone we have been meaning to for ages. Especially if they are alone, afraid or may not have much going on. Even the one liners from you have been great, so I’m guessing even a one liner to that friend / relative / missionary / neighbour would be welcome too. And maybe, if you get a bit of tongue lashing in return for not calling sooner, maybe it’s just time doing weird things to their head again.
Oh, and in case you’re counting the tally was a mere 15 teeth, two flaps, four supervised IDBs and three supervised XLA’s today. I spent all day on the unpowered, unwatered and mostly unlit chairs today. I did get to pick the music though so we injected, drained, lanced and pulled to Mambo No 5 for most of the day!
Day 12 Wednesday 4th March 2009
Here's a quick quiz for you tonight. I don't think it's very difficult.
Q1 Who is very tired today?
Q2 Who's shoulders, though they are now more brown than red, are covered in about 500 little blisters that are going to be really icky when they burst?
Q3 Whose not up to writing much blog tonight?
clue: he's in Africa and isn't Bli Aartlett!
Oh, I am back in charge of the music tomorrow so will be teaching the crew "touch a finger" again. Any other suggestions for music to extract to would be welcome in the guestbook. BUT I must warn you that anyone suggesting Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" will not be if they ever get in my chair!
Day 13 Thursday 5th March 2009
Blessing
Words are funny things. I want to think about the word “Bless”.
Most of my friends who don’t go to church would rarely use the word bless. They might mutter “Aw, bless” as sort of non-descript expression of positive emotion, usually when talking about something cute. Or they might talk about a priest “saying a blessing”. By that they usually mean some sort of magic words that will make or keep a room or an object or a person safe.
“Bless” however, is a word that people who go to church use a lot.
“God Bless” , as a greeting or parting.
or
“I was really blessed by... ”, meaning that they found something or someone helpful or uplifting
Before I came away several people prayed for me, often using words like, “Heavenly Father, I just want to ask you to bless Ali as he goes off to Africa” meaning that they were praying that I would find my time in Africa helpful and uplifting. (thanks, I have!)
In our dedication services where we acknowledge God’s role in bringing new babies into the world we often use a rather old fashioned sounding set of words that are often called “The Aaronic Blessing”
“The Lord bless you and keep you
The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you
The Lord turn his face towards you and give you peace”
Over the years I have tried to understand what this means. How can a God, who has no bodily form, and therefore can’t possibly have a face, turn it towards me?
Perhaps if we think about the alternative for a bit. What would it be like for me if God decided to turn his back on me? What if He ignored me? What if He walked away and took no notice? What if He just left me to my own devices? Well, we saw just a couple of days ago how much of our life’s trouble is brought on ourselves, and how great it is that God doesn’t turn his back on us.
But there is more to a relationship with God than just hoping that somehow He might do good things for us. That places Him in a category of vague hope, along with the lottery, vitamin pills and Father Christmas and I don’t intend to form a relationship with any of those things!
No, Jesus teaches us to talk to God as “Abba, Father”. You’ll be pleased to know this has nothing to do with Swedish pop groups, rather that “Abba” is the word Jesus would have used for “Daddy”. It is almost babyish in its tone. More “Daddy” than “Dad”. Used by people who have complete and utter faith, trust and reliance on their Daddy. When Zoe & Robyn fell over as kids and grazed their knee or when that Duplo model they were building just wouldn’t work, that’s when they would run though to me, with tears streaming down their cheeks and cry “Abba, Father” [well obviously they actually said “Daddy” because we live in Newcastle not the middle east but you know what I mean!]
So here’s what I think blessing is.
Imagine it’s early morning. You’re up early, and it’s still dark. You’re young, still young enough to say “Daddy” not “Dad” and you are a little bit afraid of wandering though your house alone and you’re not tall enough to reach the light switches.
You potter through into the kitchen, but instead of it being empty as you expect there’s your Daddy. He’s just minding his own business, standing at the counter, making himself some breakfast. He doesn’t seem to hear you come into the room so you wander over towards him. He’s so much taller than you and you wish you could see what he was doing, but the work top is too high for you to see. You reach up and, with a rather chubby little hand, tug on the corner of the dressing gown [bath robe] he’s wearing over his pyjamas.
He stops what he’s doing. He looks down at you, smiles and then reaches down, picks you up by your outstretched arms and sits you on the work top so you can chat while he makes breakfast for both of you.
As you sit there, you know that you’ve just been blessed.
So here’s a passage of the Bible you may, or may not be familiar with, using that same analogy.
Blessed are the poor in sprit, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.
Do you find it hard to be a Christian? Do wish you could follow Jesus? Do you like the sound of having an Abba Father but no-one has ever shown you how? Then wander into the kitchen, tug on God’s dressing gown, and He’ll look round and pick you up, and you’ll be able to chat with Him and He’ll talk with you.
Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.
Are you sad because someone has died? Or because you’ve lost something or someone you once had? Have you realised that a dream you had long held dear will never come true? Then tug on God’s dressing gown, He’ll look round, pick you up and give you hug.
Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth.
Are you gentle? Do you let other people win an argument, even when you know you are right? What about when you miss your turn because someone pushes in? Do you choose not to get angry? Then tug on God’s dressing gown, He’ll look round, pick you up, and remind you that everything He made, He made for you.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they will be filled.
Do you care about doing what is right? Do you get upset when you see things that aren’t fair happening to other people? Would you be prepared to miss a meal rather than going out to your favourite restaurant if it meant pleasing God? Then tug on God’s dressing gown, He’ll look round, pick you up, and you’ll find all your cravings have been satisfied.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Do you let people off when they hurt you? When someone shakes their fist at you do you respond with a helping hand? Or even just a smile? Then tug on God’s dressing gown, He’ll look round, pick you up and let you off the wrong things you have done too.
Blessed are the pure in heart for they will see God.
Some people do the right thing in order to be seen doing the right thing! Others do good to try to balance out the bad things they have done. But if you do good when no one is looking, if you do good without expecting reward, if you do good just because it’s good, then tug on God’s dressing gown, He’ll look round, pick you up and you and the creator of the universe will look right into each other eyes.
Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the sons of God.
Do you help people to make friends? To you prefer to co-operate rather than compete? Are you willing to be the one who says “sorry” first? Then tug on God’s dressing gown, He’ll look round, pick you up and everyone will know that He is your Daddy.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Do people laugh at you when you tell them you trust Jesus? Do they tell lies about you? Or do you find yourself left out of a group because you won’t go along with their plans? Then tug on God’s dressing gown, He’ll look round, pick you up and remind you that Heaven is waiting for you.
As I get ready to leave Africa and return home I want to bless my colleagues. Tomorrow is my last day when I’ll be working with the dental team, pulling teeth. So my prayer for them tonight is that for one day at least, having me there to work with them will be like tugging on God’s dressing gown and having Him smile.
Day 14 Friday 6th March 2009
new gory pictures today. If you are a medical / dental type I'll give you the diagnosis in response to your posted guess. The photos are all of the same lady, the xrays are each of different patients.
Day 15. Saturday 6th March 2009
I’ve been to Ouidah today, the exit point for the slave trade. I probably should be full of thoughts about man’s inhumanity to man, brutality or modern day slavery but what is uppermost in my mind right now is the generosity and selflessness of the people I have met on the ship.
Whether the discussion has been about money and who has enough dollars or CFA’s [the local currency] to pay for something, or about jobs to be done, or welcoming new crew members the crew of the Africa Mercy and behaved towards me in a way one would only expect from close family.
Literally From the moment I was first spotted getting coming through customs until, I suspect, the last moment before I leave (and that’s just 23 ½ hours away now) people have looked after me. They have asked if I was OK, and genuinely meant it. They have cared that I could find my way around the ship and that I could get my internet connection working. They have cared about my contact with you guys, and whether I have had enough to eat. It mattered to people that I felt comfortable with the rhythm of crew life, daily & weekly meetings, times to get up, go to bed, times to play etc. On a regular basis people come up to me and say Hi. They let me know that they are glad I am here and that they welcome me.
But this is not done in some over the top oppressive, controlling way. It’s done through genuine conversation and truly kind thoughts, actions and words. I’m not an honoured guest while a nervous host fusses around me, there is no ceremony or show, no unwritten hierarchy. There is just family. I am a member of this family. My differences are celebrated, my similarities are welcomed. I am given space to be myself and support to be out on a limb.
Whilst no doubt it goes on from time to time, I have not witnessed any selfishness or bitching, no one-upmanship, and in all honesty, I can say that in my two weeks here I have not heard a single cross word or raised voice.
Shortly several of us are going out to celebrate my last night in Benin. We’re only going a short way to a local restaurant and I don’t suppose it’ll be exceptionally good food, but the fact that people who have only known me for such a short time are willing to give up their evening to say goodbye to me really means a lot. I know I was worried that this trip to the Africa Mercy would be a let down, a disappointment after the last time. I had such a good time in Liberia in 2008 that I was worried I would be lonely or bored this time. I can honestly say that, while this trip has been different, it has been another wonderful experience.
If you are wondering if you could do a Mercy Ships trip, if maybe God is calling you to come here, but you are anxious or doubts are creeping in. If you are worried that you may not fit in, may not be useful or may not be welcome, then let me put your mind at rest. If you are Christian or not, medical or not, confident or not, if you are willing to serve the people of West Africa, here is a great place to do it.
UPDATE
I’ve just got back from our meal of “Chicken on a Bicycle, Plaintains, Yam chips, Kassava Couscous and hot hot hot chilli sauce followed by pineapple boats. I’m still not sure what “Chicken on a bicycle” actually was but it tasted good. Now all I have to hope for is that I can stay friends with that meal on the plane home tomorrow. If not Mr Imodium and I will be making yet another close acquaintance!
Day 16. Sunday 7th March 2009
Final thoughts
Well that the trip over, maybe for another year, maybe for good, who knows? I can honestly say I’ve had a great time and that I’ve learned a lot, both clinically, emotionally and spiritually. I have been a help to the people of Benin and they have been a help to me. I have been sung to and danced for, welcomed and needed. I have taken out teeth, told stories, taught oral surgery, simple extractions, complex extraction, cross infection control, local anaesthesia and silly games. I have lifted the mood in the clinic and on the ship and even placed one filling!
As I get ready to sign off I thought I’d leave you with a 1 to 10 of Benin, things I will miss and things I will not.
Things I will miss
1. The people of Benin, their lust for life and their irrepressible spirit in the face of desperate circumstances.
2. The people of The Africa Mercy, their gentleness, humility, patience and kindness.
3. Laura, Morna, Annette and Linda, my harem of naughtiness, thanks for the card games, jokes, stories, pictures of children and grandchildren and tips on buying dress material.
4. The Dental team, for accepting me and my changes, for giving me support and putting up with my dancing.
5. Warm weather
6. Fresh pineapple to die for
7. The sea view
8. Haggling for goods at the market. I know that I have been given the very best price because the man has told me so. It’s funny how many African shop keepers are supporters of Newcastle Utd, or Manchester Utd, or Chelsea depending on where I have decided to come from today!
9. Fresh scrubs provided every day, no need to think about doing the laundry
10.Knowledge that, for two weeks at least, I was in the right place at the right time to do just the right thing.
Things I will not miss
1. The smell of fresh sewage in the morning, either as the ships toilet system fails (which it did occasionally) or as Cotonou wakes up and drains it bodily contents into the harbour where we are moored (which it does daily)
2. Sharing the back of a Land Rover with three other people and 2 leaking 20litre petrol cans for 20 mins over dirt road on my way to work
3. Stale taste-free cheese sandwiches for lunch. (no nice lady bringing interesting African food this year)
4. Hitting my head on the ceiling above my bunk. We did manage to get the curtains open after a few days, though judging by the mess I think that may have been a mistake! But I never did get used to only having 18inches head room in bed.
5. My African tummy trouble. It has been my constant companion since it started and I will be very pleased if I can leave it here.
6. Drinking lukewarm water. I put ice in my water bottle every morning but by the time I’ve got down the gangway it’s melted, by the time I’m at work it’s only cool and by the time I’m down to the bottom of my litre it’s the temperature of a cool cup of tea. Yuk!
7. The blank look on my patients face’s as my very best French turns out to be completely incomprehensible.
8. The blank look on my face as, if by some amazing chance my patient did understand my question, they answer with words other than those spoken by Jean-Paul, Claudette and Marie-France in Longman’s Audio Visual French text book from Bishop Wordsworth’s School circa 1985.
9. The evil tease that is an American coffee bar. It gets so close to producing a good cup of coffee then they add all sorts of contaminants like flavourings, ice, milk, sugar and more sugar. I just need a proper cup of tea and a proper cup of coffee, neither with UHT milk, neither poked prodded or messed about!
10.Jesus. He’s coming with me on the next part of my journey.
On this trip I have been plumber, electrician, foreman, translator, roadie, bouncer, body guard, deck hand, dentist, sewage worker and mischief maker. Last year’s take home message was very clearly defined and was that God was waiting here for me like a child hiding behind a wall, ready to jump out and surprise me, whereas this year has been more nebulous. He has shown me again that I am too proud, reminded me that it is up to Him who He gives what to and that He gives and takes away as He sees fit. I am coming home with a renewed desire to follow Him more closely. Like a walk with a friend when you take the long way home, just to keep talking. I hope that He and I will become more relational and less directional.
I am sad to be leaving, but I am of course glad to be going home. I shall look forward to seeing Teresa, Zoe & Robyn again but part of me will remain on the ship. It’s the kind of place that get’s in your blood, that pulls you back. The people are pleased to see me here, there is no constant threat of litigation. I do what I can, then I stop, and that’s OK. There have been many analogies as to how we each take our place but whether you prefer jigsaw pieces, ingredients in a cake or actors on a stage the principle is that our whole is greater than the sum of our parts. The Bible uses the analogy of a body, and, with my biological mind that works well. We are all parts of one body with Jesus as our head; just because I am not the same as you does not make me any less or more important. Even our differences are necessary. Many body systems have agonists and antagonists that work in apparent opposition to each other yet their conflict is necessary for purposeful movement. Of course all of us as humans could be considered as part of one body too but the common link of our voluntary submission to Jesus bonds that body more tightly together and gives it purpose and direction.
I have talked a lot in this blog about my faith and my relationship with Jesus. I talk about him as though he were real, and alive and dynamic. I talk about him as though he were as real to me as Teresa or the girls or myself, and that is not without reason. It is my genuine belief that life for all of us is better when it is lived when we are by His side. I know that some people will argue that there are many roads to God, I know that many people will argue that there is no God. I have in the past engaged in many hours of debate, some cleaver, much puerile with many people of these types of questions. I’m not expecting many of you to suddenly say, “Hey Al, I’ve been wrong all these years! Show me how to find Jesus.” But I would hope that if you have got this far through my ramblings you would be sufficiently interested to try to find out if Jesus is real. If you know me well enough and want to talk about it that’s great, if you prefer to email me I’ll try to answer, but if either of those will be difficult I guess the question you need to answer is “Am I keen enough to find God that I am prepared to live as though I love others as much as myself?” If you are then I think you’ll find you’re over half way there already.
Will I be back next year? Will I be doing teeth in West Africa, talking about Jesus and writing my blog about whatever seems interesting at the time? Will I see you all again in cyberspace next year?
Well, I can’t tell you that, because that, is another story.
THE END