deeper

There is something about working in the wee hours of the night that makes me look a little deeper or more carefully perhaps. When all the lights are off (except for the one covered with African fabric) and the curtains are pulled as a make-shift  wall between those awake and those asleep and my  work is complete, I start to notice the humans beings that are occupying the beds of D ward. It is easy to just see the bandages that need to be changed, or tubes that need to be filled, or drains that need to be emptied. On the flip side it is also easy to see only the personalities of our patients and forget they are here because they need medical care that their country can not provide them.

I worked the past three nights and it was actually wonderful. Yes, I hate night shift, we all do but I had the most beautiful patient and they made it worth it.

Kelvin is in his 30's and is completely blind. His brother slept on a mattress under his bed and did his best to care for him. However, Kelvin's brother has very little sight himself. At one point I saw him trying to help the patient next to Kelvin tie her gown closed. His face was about 4 inches from her gown and after a while the task was done and the ladies backside was covered.

Kelvin has a sweet and gentle nature and anytime he needed my help I would hear him say "Sister Miatta." I learned quickly that when I approached him to say "Kelvin, it is Miatta. I am here. What do you need." When it was time for me to leave this morning he called me over and said " SIster Miatta, Thank you for your kindness and help. I will not forget you. I will pray that God will reward you for helping me"

Gifts

I always thought everyone was a gift-giver. I feel a need to express my love and/or appreciation from the depths within me. It usually is something small, maybe some cookies, a card, pictures, etc...It was quite a surprise when I realized not everyone had this same need. When I got married I quickly realized that this was not universal. I read the popular book about the five love languages and gifts are one of them and I identified immediately.

My first experience with Mercy Ships was on the Caribbean Mercy in Honduras and I worked in village Guadalupe Carne as much as I could. The week before the ship left, one of the ladies in the village wanted to bring me a gift. She brought me a live chicken. My first thought "Why in the world would she bring me a chicken.". My second thought was " Oh man she only had 5 chickens and she gave me one." So of course, I killed, plucked, cleaned, and cooked this chicken. Not this city girl's idea of fun, but to honor the gifter I did it.

Today my friend Bendu came to the ship to bring Becky a going-a-way gift. It seems sort of weird that since last week she came to the ship and took us to her house but would not let us inside. So we sat outside on her porch for 2 hours. Don't get me wrong, we still had fun. We chatted, she showed us pictures, told us about the night she got burned and talked about our future plans. At one point we asked her if we could see her room, but she just laughed and changed the subject.

Bendu presented Becky with a neatly wrapped package that held a dress and she gave her a black plastic bag for me. My present was a bag full of cucumbers. What? Why in the world? Becky got a dress and I got a bag of produce. But who am I to second the gifter? The whole situation is just so funny. How many people can say they have received a bag of cucumbers as a gift?

A new name.

Last week I returned to the ward after working in the recovery room for 7 weeks. I enjoyed a normal schedule more than I can express in words, but I missed building relationships with my patients (especially the long-term ones).

Thursday, I was working in A ward on day shift. One of my patients needed blood so that kept me close to his bedside most of the shift. He and his 3 neighbors were very chatty and friendly.

One of the other patient's mothers was not feeling well and wanted to take a nap, so I put her 5-month-old grandson, Godgive (yes that is his real name) on my back (by myself, quite the task). Oh man, all my patients went crazy. "African Lady, African lady. You an African Lady. You name Miatta (meaning firstborn female child) from the Bandi Tribe in Lofa County." So, of course, I put a basket on my head and pretended to sell cold water and plums and they all yell "Auntie Miatta I buy you col wata cuz you an African lady!"

Now when I introduce myself to my patients I say my name is Stephanie but you can call me Miatta.

This is Larry, one of the chubbies babies in Liberia, he too likes to be in a lappa.

Albert the Baker

From time to time Albert (a retired baker from Germany) comes to the ship -  the Anastasis but now the on the Africa Mercy - to grace us with his presence for about 3 months at a time.  No, I am not making fun.  He can put out crescents, rolls, bread, specialty baked items like nobody's business...he's THE MAN!

The last time he left he really had a passion to have some equipment items he deemed necessary for our small bakery on board.  So he directly went home, raised the money, bought the equipment...and had it delivered to the Dutch office before we even knew what was going on!!!

And we're not talking about a couple of pizza cutters, we're talking about thousands of Euros in money and hundreds of kilos in weight.

[Click picture to make larger]

This mixer is specifically made for mixing dough.  Our other mixer was moved further down and has multiple attachments to do a myriad of other things...So now it is nice to be able to use the older mixer for everyday bulk prep & use in the kitchen without 'bumping' heads with the baker. 

This is a semi-automatic bun roller.  You slide a weight of dough in the machine on one of the 'trays' you see hanging on the side of the machine.  You pull the big handle down for it to cut the dough into equal proportions.  Then you slide over another lever to lock it into gear,

and pull another for it to start gyrating...It's kind of like doing the twist.  Mechanically it gyrates/vibrates (in a circular pattern) the 'tray' under the cut dough until they form separate balls trapped within the cutter.  Stop the machine lift the big handle and pull out the tray for your precise made dough balls for rolls or small breads.

Thanks, Albert!  And all who contributed to these purchases...They are both installed and ready for action when you come back to visit us!  But don't worry the current baker is using them now...the only dust they'll collect is from the flour.

Perfection

In Liberia, there are not a whole lot of options for weekend get-a-ways. One of the Mercy Ships' favorites is Robert's Port. It is about a 3-hour drive and is a beautiful beach. Up until a couple of months ago, camping was the only lodging there, and anyone who knows me would just laugh at me even considering sleeping in a tent as fun. But now there are these luxurious "tents" that are built on a wood platform. The tent I stayed in had 3 double beds, a fridge, a fan, light, and 2 big comfy chairs, hardly camping... Praise Jesus.

It sounds quite easy, jumping in a car and driving 3 hours to stay right on the beach, but in Liberia, the transportation can be horrible. I had been keeping my ears open when each group would come home from a Robert's Port trip to find a reliable taxi and Abu and his Mazda Minivan kept coming up. So I called him and he came to pick up the 6 of us girls. Usually, at least one disaster happens on a trip in Liberia, but everything went wonderfully as planned.

We played in the clean, beautiful ocean, walked on the beach, laid out in the sun, took naps, body boarded some perfect waves, ate some delicious food, and enjoyed each other's company. The group of girls included my dear friend Becky, actually, the trip was sort of Becky's goodbye party. She will leave in 10 days so it was precious to spend the weekend with her.

This weekend had the potential to turn out disastrous but was actually quite perfect.