here!

Last night I woke up and realized that something was not right.  It took a minute for my sleep-fogged mind to realize what the problem was...my bed is no longer in a constant state of motion, and the comforting hum of the big engines is stopped.  We are anchored!!

We arrived yesterday, in a flurry of bright african dress, waving hands and smiling faces, and the triumphant rise of our voices - everyone on shore and on ship - singing the proud Sierra Leone national anthem.  We were greeted by new crew, old friends, a marching band, and the Minister of Health: a mixed crowd but an excited one, and one we were excited to finally meet as well.

We've started unpacking pretty much immediately, and it is exhilirating to see the hospital unfold and unpack and start to look like a hospital today.  I celebrated my first time on Sierra Leone soil by riding African-style over to the Hospitality center, on top of a large truckload of dental supplies (picture to come, I hope).

It seems like only yesterday that we crossed the equator and celebrated our shellback seaman status, that we competed in the sail olympics for a prize of a soda can replica of the Africa Mercy, that we put on eyepatches and earrings and danced the night away, and that we prayed for the arrival and ensuing field service.
Well, that day is here at last.  Watch out, Sierra Leone...mercy's on its way!



Can you see it??  Do you see the equator!!



Ah biliv em

In preparation for our entry into Sierra Leone we've been having classes and discussions on everything from local culture to history to language.  While I am really enjoying the Krio language lessons with the Sierra Leone crew members, one of my favorite parts of these mornings is the West African-style worship.

They are practical songs, uncomplicated delight in trust.  I will try and post another few with lyrics as I get spellings/meanings/Krio words down.  One of the simpler ones from this morning goes

I go do am                                                 (He will do it)
Yes, I go do am                                         (Yes, He will do it)
God don tak am                                         (God has said it)
Ah biliv em                                                (I will believe/trust in Him)

Just like that.  God has said it, and I believe Him.  No demands for tangible blessings, further confirmation, or a need for instant vending-machine style gratification.

So as we get closer to the wire and I wonder if we will be set up in time, pray for strength in taking on new job responsibilities and challenges, ask for guidance for the days ahead and wonder at how God would choose to use me in all of my flawed frailty, I will claim His promises and say:
God don tak am, Ah biliv em!

Life at sea

Hundreds of seals swam along with us as we rounded the Cape of Good Hope and sailed into the beautiful port of Cape Town.

Cape of Good Hope

Cape Town is ringed by tall mountains on every side, with Table Mountain an imposing challenge in the backdrop...a challenge we could not refuse.


 Our brief stop did allow enough time for several of us to get off ship, and Monday morning my friend Becca and I braved the baking sun to climb what seemed an unending stone staircase with a dreamy view behind and near impassible cliff up ahead.  We reached the top parched, thankful, and exhilarated...and resolving to never mountain climb in Africa again without an entire backpack full of water.  That night we sailed out again under an orange and pink sky.

View from the trail up Table Mountain

Sunset over Cape Town

We have been sailing since then for almost a week, and all I can see is ocean in every direction...a deep cheerful blue that seems laced with sunlit smiles.  It is incredible to think that the love of God is even wider and deeper than this.  Knowing that makes it easy to trust that His plan for me is crazy and glorious and unimaginably delightful.


It's an adventure to live at sea.  It would have never occurred to me in the past that while cooking I would need to guard the frying pan so it would not come off the stove.  Or that it would be smart to bungee cord my sewing machine to the table (hopefully the table is a sturdy one!).  Nights "out" are conveniently close to home, sometimes with community organized activities like sock golf tournaments or karaoke.  We've sailed out well ahead of an expected storm, and smooth sailing has been a blessing.  I'm looking forward to sleeping soundly in my little cabin cave tonight, a bit startled to realize that it will be strange when my bunk no longer rocks me to sleep.  One more week-ish till go time!

sailing at last!

"Attention all crew:  This is a drill, this is a drill, this is a drill."  The captain's voice sounds out over the loudspeaker as emergency teams rush to their muster stations and gear up.  Our team assembles as well, ready to respond to a medical emergency should the need arise.  It's a familiar sound, and a familiar action.  We've been drilling on and off since our arrival back on ship, preparing for the sail.

Except finally, we're done with preparation...it's time to sail!  After a muster with head-count, crew paused their jobs to line the rails on deck 7 and 8, and wave goodbye  to a city that has sheltered our ship for the last few months.  With the rest of the medical team, I also got to watch as our South African pilot was picked up by helicopter.

Our sail has been frequently joined by large pods of dolphins, and pilot whales, who seem very talkative and more than happy to show off and entertain the children (and adults) on board.  I'm looking forward to seeing some larger whales and flying fish as well :-)

First stop...Cape Town, South Africa!

Swab the decks

I've broadened my job description since coming to South Africa.    Pretty extensively broadened, in fact.  Last year I had varied jobs as well, but mostly within nursing.  Pediatric nurse turned into hospital floor-waxer, expert ward bleacher and bedmaker, pre-surgical screener, adult care, ICU, PICU, and IV team depending on the need.  But I'm used to that.  It makes me feel right at home.

It's been a bit different this time, with my job description extended now far beyond "being a nurse".  I've joined what is the not-so-secret society of incognito nurses...(nurse by day, deadly ninja by night!).  Except in this case we're not ninjas exactly.

Since the hospital isn't open yet, most of the nurses have been assigned to jobs in other departments for now.  Along with a few housekeepers and several other hospital staff, I'm swabbing the decks...and the bulkheads, and the deckheads, and quite a few just plain heads.  (Translation for the non-sailors - we clean and mop the floors, clean walls and ceilings and bathrooms...but it sounds much more fun using sailor lingo :-) 

All it takes though is the loud ring of the emergency alarm or an overhead or beeper page to send me into the nearest phone booth to magically and instantly transform back into an emergency nurse.  While I'm eager to get to Sierra Leone, I'll enjoy the more relaxed role while I have it.  After all, this is my first 8-5 job (unless you count the on-call bits)!

Because where else can I watch from my softly rocking hammock as the sun drowns in the sea, join my fellow sailors for worship on the bow, catch my food flying off the table, stand pirate watch at midnight with a friend, dream of roller coasters and wake up still believing that I'm on one, swab the decks and the heads not out of duty but because this too is worship for my God, and still be a nurse at the drop of a hat?

I'm telling you, this is gonna be quite a cruise :-D

11 cows

It’s a confusing thing when two men are asking you questions in a language you don’t understand – especially when one of them is dressed only in animal skins and carrying a large war shield and stabbing spear.

I was proud of myself for getting it on the second try, albeit a little startled with the translation and their excited confirmation. “He has six wives, you have two, and you want me to be number three?” I asked. From the hand clapping and smiles I realized that I had gotten it right, and jumped in quickly with a polite refusal. There was a slight hitch in the wedding plans as they realized that my father wasn’t there to accept the bride price of 11 cows.

We toured the village, watched the men making spears and shields and the women pots and beaded ornaments. We got to smell the medicine man’s herbs, and watch the tribal dances. We even tried a sip of the local beer offered in hospitality – a rather gritty beverage we learned had been strained through a reed basket.

How can I turn down the offer? I would get my own hut, my own wooden pillow, and join a culture rich in tradition. And I’m already learning the language, even though the clicks have been a bit difficult. And dad, I forgot to tell them where to send the cows.

So I think I’m going to hold out for a proposal to be a first wife, or maybe a few more cows.