Christmas adventures in Accra

Noel and Justin point out the goudge our tro-tro
left in the road

 We had initially planned to go somewhere else entirely.  It was meant to be a leisurely lunch with friends, followed up with a traipsing adventure through downtown Accra, hitting up all the interesting cultural and historical landmarks we could manage in an afternoon. 

Instead of following the original plan, we ended up skipping lunch at the mall and embarking instead on a lively outing involving a palace, a broken axel, plenty of yummy Ghanian snacks, and Colin Powell. 

I started out with a rather large group of Mercyshippers, enjoying the fresh(er) air and relative cleanliness of Tema port as we hiked out from our slip to the nearest taxi station.  It was my first time in Ghana, and I felt like I had walked out into my own world.  The architecture, traffic patterns and weather...everything down to the painted curbs along the sidewalk and brightly lit advertisements for Indomie...it all reminded me of Indonesia in a rather African way. 

 

Our tro-tro, shortly before we started walking


Surreal...to the point I almost started speaking Indonesian multiple times.  But it also meant I felt totally at home when our taxi went a different way from the other taxis and left five of us on the brink of adventure.  We flagged down a tro-tro (strangely reminiscent of the angkots and tok-toks of my childhood, and the bush taxis and poda-podas of more recent African adventures) and crammed in with twenty strangers, only to find ourselves on the curb two hours later after a loud noise and grinding sideways halt.  Thankfully, the wheel and axel decided to come off while we were turning rather than while driving fast.



Jamestown Palace



When we found out we had gone well past the intended stop because our tro-tro had taken an entirely different route, we set off walking instead, following a rather battered and damp sketch of the Accra waterfront.  We passed Independence Arch and Kwame Nkrumah's grave, two forts and a palace on our way down to the Jamestown lighthouse.  Lively haggling got us a tour of the "palace" - a concrete building with cultural murals along the walls - and a trip to the top of the lighthouse.  Through the haze we could see an old slave castle a few miles away (to be visited another time).  The view was also filled with fishing boats along the waterline and anchored just off shore; inland there were concrete offices and tiny huts and children playing in the streets.

 

Fishing boats, with Osu castle in the
distance



Heather, Noel, Michelle and I...with Colin Powell



Later that afternoon we stopped at a local craft market (mainly to look at fabric), and as we were waiting for one last friend to finish, we met a man who proudly named the capitols of our respective countries and states, and then delivered quite a lot of commentary on the development of Canadian territories.  I'm not sure if Colin Powell was his real name or just one he's chosen to adopt, but along with significant potential as a future geography teacher, Colin does some excellent woodcarving.

We made it back to ship just after dark - tired, dirty, and full of fun, and were greeted at the gangway by lights and wreaths and a ship-style Christmas decor.  It's not snow and hot chocolate and pepperment and pine, but somehow it's starting to feel a lot like Christmas. :-)





A go se yu bak

From the inside, my home looks the same.  Sparse crew members are scattered around the couches this afternoon, checking email and napping.  There are Christmas trees up around the ship, a Nativity scene is starting to take shape, and it's been a little while now since the hospital closed so we could pack it all away.

It's the little things that hint at the fact that life is slightly different today.  The bins to sort out biodegradable trash. The view of sparkling deep blue water stretching out as far as the eye can see...where there used to just be containers and concrete.  The deck isn't quite always where your foot expects it to be, and a constant rumble fills the air.  A walk in town is no longer a viable option.  Instead, we practice our life jacket technique just in case.

As the field service came to a close our leaders discussed all that had been accomplished in Sierra Leone.  Almost 3,000 surgeries of various types, 34,000 dental procedures, health and agricultural education and eye care and mental health and all kinds of different methods of outreach that have touched thousands on thousands of West Africans here over the last 10 months.  Reflecting back over what God has done and claiming promises of what He will continue to do, I saw so much more than numbers there.

Instead of numbers and lists my mind is filled with faces and snapshots of moments.  Sierra Leone is Naamah and Ismael and Finda and Mariama and Hardy and Christophe...all the individuals you've met through my blog and more besides.  It is the incredulous smile on the face of Josi's papa and his wholehearted declarations of praise to God.  It is Jon and Tambo demanding a dance party to the tune of "Jizos go do am for me" (Jesus has done it for me).  It is the heavy weight of Joseph in my lap during a water break at Yams Farm, as he drowsily declares dis na me mama (here is my mother).   It is the look on Isata's face reflecting back out of the mirror during her first dressing change, as she realizes that the tumor truly is gone.  It is getting mobbed by piles of orthopedic kids that remembered me from 6 months ago, scrubs covered in warm drool, roads that look like riverbeds, beaches straight out of a Caribbean postcard.  It is the Krio phrases and songs and humorous comments still here with me, tucked away in the nooks and crannies and corners of my heart.

I didn't save my goodbyes for when we pulled out of the dock.  It was earlier, in the soft haze of a sunrise, and with the insistent call to prayer from the minarets drowned out by the overwhelming Krio praise songs in my heart.  I think back over my time here and realize that I have given months of my life and poured out my heart here, and I have been given back so much more than I ever gave.


I learned early on in my childhood overseas that saying goodbye is just too hard.  People and friends, homes and countries will all come and go...some more quickly than others.  Who is to say when I may see a person or place again, where I will be next year, or who I will see in the multitudes of worship at the heavenly throne.  It is easier just to say A go se yu bak (I will see you later) - not a promise, necessarily, but as a sincere hope.

Only God can know what the true impact is from the ship's field service here and my own time in Sierra Leone.  I can't bring myself to tally numbers or count the years until I may be back again.  All I can say is that God has done amazing things this year in Sierra Leone, and I look forward to seeing what God will do there in the future.  Until then, I'll continue to pray for God to glorify Himself in the hearts and lives of my people there, and that they will continue to proclaim with exuberant joy in celebration of what He has done for them.

Packing the PACU

Post-Anesthesia Care Unit

Walking by our PACU on ship, you might think that this is not only the name of the unit, it's also a strong suggestion for events that should go on inside.  Because quite a lot of the hospital is now stowed away in PACU; packed in a three-dimensional spatial relations tetris challenge held together with rope and ratchet straps.  The patients have left, the nurses are leaving, and those of us who are still here bleach and pack, strip and wax, and attempt to fit into very small spaces.

My pager went off, and I answered the phone only to hear "do you want to be a monkey?"  Apparently I have been making a name for myself in the last week by clambering around the top of carts and pallets, army-crawling across packed stretchers, and diving through large piles of bed frames and hospital equipment to find secure points to hook more little straps to so that things will stay put when we sail.  Later this week I'll get to climb back over it all again, searching for anything out of place, as we finish preparing the ship to sail.  My truckers hitch knot I remember from a backcountry medicine class in school has served me well, as we rope chairs and chairs and more chairs together in some semblance of stability.

It was standing on top of the beginnings of our pile when it hit me.  Stowing away the hospital isn't like boxing up your winter clothes in a garage, or even like packing a moving van.  Generally (we hope), both the garage and van will remain upright for as long as your items stay there.  The same is not really true here.  It's a bigger playing field, with bigger consequences; our storage place moves.  A bad packing job could mean broken equipment or a hole in the wall.  A bad cleaning job could mean infection for future patients.  


And yet, even in the seriousness of the tasks there is still plenty of opportunity to have fun with it.  

I've done things this week I honestly never thought I would say.  I mean, let's be honest, how many of you have saran-wrapped an ICU bed full of orthopedic equipment?  Danced to Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies" to the rhythm of a panic strobe light while bleaching?  Tied mattresses to laundry room shelves?  Accidentally attempted to be a stowaway?  Ice skated in socks to "The Sound of Music?"  Rearranged cupboards while standing on your head?  All this and more have brought the idea of "secure for sail" to a whole new level for me.  

As we met for praise and prayer each morning, we found the acoustics of an empty ward could make 30 nurses worshipping sound like a beautiful choir performance.  We've discovered hidden talents, and who we are as a team when we're not actively taking care of patients.  We went crazy this week in worshipping our King, even through the small and lowly jobs in life.


Who knew the incense of worship could smell like bleach and floor stripper and sweat?!

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