Aissa update

Below is Andy's most recent email update on Aissa;

"Kari and I took Aissa and her sister to the Bethlehem Foundation today. As we walked up to her house in her village she ran to greet us. Both her sister and her seemed very happy to leave - Aissa had lost some more weight but was otherwise in good health. They were warmly greeted at Mouda and we left them without any tears, looking a little apprehensive but glad to be there. They will live at Mouda now, Jean will visit them there and then they will go back to the village during school holidays.

Andy"

Aissa update

Below is the email message I received from Andy, one of our MCWA missionaries after his visit to Aissa's village this afternoon. Emmanuel is the social worker from the Bethlehem Foundation where we hope to send Aissa to school.

"I went to Aissa's village today. Aissa is doing well, her ear infection has cleared up on its own and her face is healing really well but she is looking a lot thinner and her arm circumference measurement is down by 1 cm (now 16cm). After Yanga (the nurse) had done his checks she went and got a couple of games and sat there with him happily playing while Emanuel talked with Jean.

Emanuel was very good about finding out information and he could tell some things were not adding up. Then a family member came in. He revealed that Jean was in fact the true biological father of Aissa and her sister.

Yanga remembers some confusion when Aissa was first brought to the hospital and the doctors and nurses being forceful about who was the father and so maybe Jean got scared and decided being the Uncle was a safer bet. Anyway all is now in the open ..... Jean's wife left a few years ago and Jean has been bringing up the two ever since with the help of his mother. In the past he has been away at times in search of work leaving the two girls with his mother.

Emanuel still agrees that the Bethlehem Foundation is the best place for Aissa and her sister and Jean and the grandmother have both given their consent too. Jean actually worked at the Foundation a few years ago, helping with the harvest so he knows of the place. He is keen to accompany the 2 girls there when we take them and is on board with the holiday visits and keeping up the contact with them.

Emanuel thought it would be good for Aissa and her sister to go at the end of the month. August is traditionally a hard time with little food and access to the village can be harder so we settled on Friday 30th of July. I will go and collect Jean and the girls and take them to Mouda and then bring Jean back to the Mokolo Carrefour and put him on a clando for home. The girls will then start living at Mouda and return for visits to the village in the holidays.

It was really good to have Emanuel go with us, he has so much experience in these kinds of cases and now knows where Aissa's village is located so will be able to organize the future contact with the family.

All for now

Andy"

Update

Hello friends and family,

I received an email this week from Andy and Kari, fellow missionaries in Meskine. Apparently the nurse who was hired to visit Aissa's village found that her skin infection had cleared nicely and her arm circumference had remained stable. This means that she has not lost any more weight in the past two weeks.

This news is so encouraging, thank you for your prayers. Soon, Andy and Emmanuel will visit Aissa's village to see if the family is willing to send Aissa and her sister to school. I will update you as soon as I hear from the team.

Blessings, Sarah

Update

Hello friends and family.

I know you are all waiting to hear the final plan for Aissa’s future. Thank you for your patience. Our team is making this decision carefully, understanding the full impact it will have on her entire life. We are praying to know the will of God and are looking at this situation from all possible angles. It has not been easy, but this process is necessary.

After our meeting today we have stated as a team that we are ‘heading towards’ placing both Aissa and her sister at the Bethlehem Foundation for the school year. Many important questions are still left to be answered however, and Andy and I will make one more visit to the orphanage tomorrow.

In addition, the orphanage’s social worker will be invited to visit Aissa’s village in the coming weeks to ask the family if they are willing to send the girls away for their schooling. This meeting will be very important.

So please, please pray. Thank you.

Thank you CCBC!

Thank you Calvary Chapel of Battle Creek!

Your boxes arrived right on time and I was able to assemble and distribute your goodies to the pediatrics ward before leaving Cameroon!

Thanks to your generosity, each package consisted of crayons, color pages, candy, a toy, hair pretties and an additional item such as a toothbrush or stickers:-)

Aboubakar is 5 years old. Last year, he swallowed lye, an ingredient used for making soap. This chemical burned his esophagus (the pathway between the mouth and stomach) so badly that he can no longer swallow. The hospital has placed a tube directly into his stomach so that he can be fed. Missionaries on our team are currently mixing enriched porridge to be given him through this tube and surgery to open his esophagus is being investigated. Please pray.

She was all smiles...

...so was he:-)

This baby doll liked his stuffed monkey.

Demonstrating proper Pixie Stick technique...

The many precious stuffed animals you sent were delivered to a grateful vaccination team who will use them to entice the village mamas to bring their children in for regular immunizations! In addition, the beautifully knitted baby bonnets and receiving blankets are being kept in the maternity ward. Once a mother has completed all of her prenatal visits, and after delivery in the hospital, she will be given her gift.

Once again, thank you for your generosity and kindness. We are so blessed by your efforts. I look forward to seeing you soon!

Goodbyes

To bike or not to bike, that was the question…

I had recruited Kerri one of our missionaries who speaks fluent Fulfulde to help me say goodbye to my language tutors who live in the village. Now, how to get to her house? The roads were likely to be muddy from rain the night previous and I was way out of practice with this particular mode of transportation!

In the end I decided to be brave. I dusted off the community bike used here on the compound and walked it to the ‘repair shop’ just outside the hospital gate. The ‘shop’ consists of a few guys working on motorcycles under trees which give shade to the oil-stained sand around them, but they have the all-important tire pump, and that was just what I was after. Tires re-inflated I was ready to go, dodging puddles, lizards and chickens on my way to Kerri’s house.

The visits went well. After ducking into two compounds and seeing a total of four women, the conversation often ended in the same way;

“You’re leaving us so soon Sadatou, (that's me) are you tired of us?”

“No, I’m not tired of you at all, I will miss you, but I am ready to see my baaba (father) and daada (mother).”

“Will you come back?”

“I hope to come back to visit friends, but I am not sure if I will work at the hospital. I am still praying to know God’s will”

“You must come back! Do not forget us Sadatou and practice your Fulfude…”

The visits were lovely, the weather was beautiful and as I rode home, mothers greeted me and their children ran waving into the street. Kingfishers flashed from branch to branch in all of their turquoise splendor and the hills in the distance sported a sprinkling of green thanks to the recent rains. A cool breeze blew over the village and I wondered again why I would ever want to leave this place.

It is part of me now.

Will anyone understand this? Will they understand how certain sights and sounds suddenly bring me back to a village in Africa? Will they see how this experience has changed the very person that I am, how I think and react, how I live my life?

There is One who was with me the entire time. He is a constant which never changes, His is a presence that will never leave me, even after I return to my ‘other’ life. I remember this and am comforted. This is all a part of the missionary deal, this paradox of emotions. Soon I will be home to hug my baaba and daada and as difficult as it will be to leave, that will be so, so good.

Zoe!

I got a package in the mail today.

In that package was an envelope marked "for Sarah Root"...

And in that envelope was a lovely necklace made for me by one of my favorite cutie pies:-)

Thanks sweet Zoe, you made my day. I'll be home to hug you and your little blondie sisters soon...

The blondies, clockwise from Zoe in the pink is Cari, Sarah and Emma.

Bethlehem Foundation

This morning I took a trip to the "Bethlehem Foundation", a local Catholic orphanage. I spoke with Sister Rosa, the director of the facility as well as their social worker and one of the nurses who works on site.

I shared with them Aissa’s story, from her arrival at our hospital in May, 2009 to her reconstructive surgery in Togo. I showed them my photos of her miraculous recovery and asked if they might be willing to house Aissa and her sister for the school year. They readily agreed.

We discussed the particulars such as cost of room and board. The monthly amount of approximately 50$ includes not only food and housing, but all medical care, schooling fees, clothing and incidentals. The older children usually attend the village elementary school which is just around the corner from the orphanage, and has a student to teacher ratio of <40:1. The younger children attend kindergarten classes on site.

We will gather as a team next week to make a decision about where to place Aissa for the school year. Please pray that we would all be at peace and that God would give us his wisdom.

Thank you.



Front entrance to the center.

Chapel at the orphanage.

Medical offices on site used for evaluation of sick residents.

"Home of Joy" If she goes to the orphanage, this will be Aissa's home.



Kitchen.

Bathrooms:-)

Please pray

We visited Aissa today.

After driving over an hour on serpentine roads and crossing many dry riverbeds, the scenery began to look the same and I was thoroughly lost. Fortunately Andy who was driving had his bearings and we finally parked and walked to Aissa’s home. The area where she lives is quite pretty, the huts are all huddled together and constructed of smooth earth and stones, and the village is bordered on all sides by rocky hills.

We crested a large boulder and saw Jean. He went into a nearby hut and called the little bird who came running. She was more subdued that I expected. She immediately held up her arms and I picked her up off the ground, noting that she seemed lighter.

We were greeted and invited inside to sit down. Aissa immediately settled herself on my lap. We made small talk and I gave the bird the coloring pages and crayons I had saved for her. She was pleased and began on them right away.

Aissa’s face is healing well, the stitches have wiggled their way out from around the graft as expected and the small wound under her right eye is clean and almost closed. However, she has developed a bacterial skin infection due to poor hygiene, was struggling with a bad cold and had lost weight.

We trimmed her nails and measured her arm circumference as a way to monitor her growth. She has had chronic ear infections in the past, so I took a look today. I could not see much through the wax and was concerned she may develop another infection with her current cold.

We were given permission to take photos of the family compound and as I walked around with my camera, Aissa followed, arms outstretched. This clingy behavior usually means she is feeling a bit insecure and is not really sure of what is happening.

As I was leaving the compound, Aissa asked me for something to eat.

We gathered together and prayed over the little bird. She sat in my lap again and I held her close, asking God in his mercy to protect her, knowing this may be the last time I see her for years. As we left, we assured the family that one of our pediatric nurses would be back in two weeks to check on her and reiterated that if Aissa became ill, we had an agreement with their neighbor to drive them to the hospital on his motorcycle. Upon arriving, their transport would be paid and her care would be free.

Jean walked us out and on the way asked if we could give them food. He is a farmer, and because he was in the hospital during the last rainy season with Aissa, he was unable to plant his fields. No crop means no food and now, whatever stores the family may have had are completely gone.

They are hungry.

We told him we would discuss the problem and he was displeased. He stated that if he was not given food, he would have to leave Aissa ‘like her father did’ and go to Garoua. We perceived this to be a threat, as there is no way he could find the funds to make the trip. We left, agonizing over the tension encountered so often here in West Africa between desiring to meet basic human needs, yet not create dependence. We cannot fully trust Jean, while he has done extraordinary things for Aissa, this is not the first time he has made threats in order to get his own way and he is a known alcoholic. I prayed that God would give us wisdom as we made our way along the path.

Before reaching the car, we passed the local Lutheran church, a mud building with a tin roof. The pastor was sitting outside under a tree and as we walked up to greet them, his wife spread out a clean mat, gave us a fresh bowl of peanuts and invited us to sit.

We talked for a while and found that the church has bags of millet grain the staple food in this area, for sale. We paid Pastor Andre, and arranged for him to help Jean purchase a sack of grain within the next couple of days. God answered my prayer for wisdom and immediately provided for Aissa and her family. They will have food soon. The agreement is one bag a month for 3 months, until the harvest. If the bag runs out before the end of the month, in case they feel pressure to share with neighbors or to sell the grain for money to buy alcohol, we cannot purchase them another.

Pastor Andre then pointed out the local school and shook our hands before we piled into the car. At the school we met the director and took photos of the classrooms. We talked about cost and learned that the local student to teacher ratio is 50:1, which is not bad for this area.

I hope to visit the local Catholic orphanage this Friday where I will be asking about placing Aissa and her sister in their facility during the school year.

How can I summarize? The little bird is healing well after her operation, despite a minor respiratory and skin infection. She has lost weight because the family doesn’t have enough to eat, but God showed us the way to temporarily care for this need. We have a pediatric nurse visiting regularly for the coming few months and have secured transportation for her to get to the hospital if needed. School is in Aissa’s future, although we are still deciding as a team where to place the little bird and her sister this fall.

However, my heart’s cry is that Aissa be loved. We can put food in her stomach, treat her for malaria, enroll her in school but who will love her? Who will pick her up when she desires to be held? During our time on the ship, I saw how she blossomed under such love and affection, how she transformed into a radiant, joyful, exuberant child.

This was not the child I saw today.

We desperately need your prayers. I will keep you updated.

Village school

Carrying Aissa back to her home.





Aissa's sister.



Wanting to be held.

Finale

Aissa went home.

Saturday morning, one day after our arrival from Togo, Aissa came bounding into the compound, proudly wearing the new granny-apple green dress that had been made for this very occasion. She was excited to return to her village, and while the adults talked, she rode on the swing, asking to be pushed higher and higher still.

Jean was given instructions on Aissa’s mouth hygiene and how to care for her skin graft while it healed. We hope to visit soon to talk with the family about Aissa's future. She may be placed in a local orphanage during the school year where she will attend classes, have regular access to health care and continued discipline and structure.

Then we packed them into the truck for their return trip home.

Just one year previous, a miserable, skeletal, half-dead child was brought to the hospital. Just one year ago I sat on my living room floor begging God to save her life. Now exuberantly joyful, wonderfully affectionate, stubbornly courageous and chubbier than when we left for Togo, I can’t imagine life without her in it.

Praise God.

Saying goodbye.

Hambone...

New dress!

Home to Gargala.

Aissa and her sister!

Thank you

How can I thank you? What can I say that would express the love I have for all of you, my brothers and sisters? Your prayers were a tangible presence every step of the journey this past month. God honored them all. What a blessing you are to me.

Thank you for being my Aaron and my Hur, for holding my arms up when I didn’t have the strength to do it on my own. Together, we have brought the little bird home. Through you God has been glorified.

So here you go…the fruits of your prayers. Please continue to pray for sweet Aissa, she needs it now perhaps more than ever.

(*Warning, some of these photos are medically graphic, but they give a realistic picture of the amazing work done by the team of the Africa Mercy.)

Homecoming

Well the little bird made it home safely. Hallelujah.

After spending Thursday saying goodbye to precious friends, we loaded my duffel into the Land Rover and headed to the hospitality center to fetch the baby girl. Turns out, the chauffer who works at the center didn’t quite understand and drove Jean and Aissa to the airport alone while we were on our way to pick them up! Oops, they wouldn’t have made it very far…

So, the error was hastily rectified and we three made the journey to the airport together. A porter settled us and our luggage in the seating area and promised to come back once it was time to check in for our flight. He was wonderfully kind, a real answer to prayer.

However, sitting in the dark airport, surrounded by suffocating humidity and a cloud of mosquitoes, right in the center of a new and strange West African port city, I struggled. My heart began to race, I felt I couldn’t breathe, and I wondered if I would be able to get us home. The thought of having to make it through the next 24 hours was almost too much, and I wanted desperately to run away.

God was there. He saw my struggle.

I began to pray, took a few deep breaths and God gave me what I needed for the next step. So little by little we made our way home. I navigated airport check-in, customs and security with Jean and Aissa in tow. God gave me strength to handle corrupt porters, questionable policemen, crowds on the plane and 28 hours of sleeplessness. He blessed us along the way with kind people, like the man at the metal detector who told me to have “courage”, that he appreciated what had been done for Aissa, or the woman at the ticket counter, who overheard Aissa’s story and personally led me to the front of the line, or the flight attendant who remembered us from a month ago when we were on his flight to Togo. God was so faithful.

So we landed in the familiar brownness of sub-Saharan Africa, it’s beloved mud huts and scrub bushes a comforting sight to tired travelers as we stepped off the plane into the shimmering, dry waves of heat. Sweet Aissa was swaying on her feet from fatigue, and rode quietly to the village but flashed me a huge grin when I glanced back at her from the front seat of the car. I assume from this that she was happy to be home.

Upon pulling into the compound, Aissa was an instant celebrity. All of the staff ran up to greet her and exclaim how wonderful she looked. They received us with such love and warmth, it was good to see them all. There will be more to come, I’m sure.

So, after resting, unpacking my suitcases, and chasing the welcoming committee of two cockroaches, one lizard and an enormous spider out of my house, tomorrow begins anew. We are still praying to know God’s will for Aissa, and it looks at this time as if she will be returning to her village. Please continue to pray with us over her future and continued physical healing.

Thank you.

Goodbye

The little bird was scheduled for her last post-op appointment this Monday. So, Monday morning I made my way to the hospital to find out when she would arrive. I bumped into a nurse who informed me that Aissa was in fact standing outside the ship, on the dock that very moment, throwing a fit.

Oh boy.

So I hurried to the dock and sure enough the little madam was so upset that she couldn’t board and play with all her old friends on A ward that she stood howling in desolation while the crowd looked on. She quieted soon enough when I walked up and hugged her, but was none too happy to wait outdoors under the tent for the next 2 hours while waiting for her turn in the post-op clinic. We plied her with crayons, color pages and songs until finally they called her name.

So we tiptoed up the gangway, Aissa staring at the water under our feet the entire time, and once in the air-conditioned ship, she was a girl transformed. She smiled, she flirted, we sat in the hallway outside the clinic where she beat me soundly at a game of Memory and every time one of her beloved nurses came to say hello, she threw herself at them, wrapping herself around their waist.

She visited A ward once more. As soon as she walked in, the room erupted in a chorus of “Aissa!” at which point she threw her hands out into the air as if to say, “taadaa!” Truly in her element, she was more than happy to comply during her post-op appointment. The paperwork finished, it was time to take the ‘after’ photos and she rounded up all her friends to sit in the picture with her.

As Aissa left the ship, perhaps for the last time, she waved goodbye to the men and women of the Africa Mercy who have loved her so well this past month. She has been the topic of their blog posts and emails home, their conversations and prayers. They visit her at the hospitality center and rejoice over her recovery. Finally, they have wished us safe travels for our return to Cameroon.

Our little bird has made quite an impression.

She is one of God’s love stories.

Mama

I’ve been thinking of my mama this week.

This portion of Mercy Ships outreach to Togo has been focused on maxillofacial and plastic surgery. Since Monday, I have been working in the admissions tent, welcoming those patients who are scheduled to receive an operation. Each morning they arrive with their physical and emotional scars, the grown woman who lost her lips to childhood NOMA, the teenage boy whose jaw, mouth and nose were ripped off by a bullet, the skeletal infant unable to suckle because of her cleft palate.

Some of the kids sashay into the tent without a care in the world, grinning wildly around their split lips and noses as we hand them stuffed animals or a balloon. Others, usually the adults are more timid, speaking in hushed tones, most with towels or rags held up as a shield to hide their deformity.

I have learned during my time here that children with cleft lips are often believed to be cursed. In some countries, the parents are urged to bury the child alive to be rid of the spirits that made them ill.

May 27th, 1948 Janice Lynn Pettengill came into the world. She was born with a cleft lip and palate and, I can imagine, beautiful blue eyes. Not yet one month old, she received her first surgery to close the opening in her lip. With great care and dedication, her mama fought for her, trying new tricks to get her to suckle, eat and gain weight. She succeeded and at ten months old, Janice had her second operation to close the hole in the roof of her mouth.

Later in life, her tonsils and adenoids were removed to help relieve the chronic ear infections that threaten the hearing of so many cleft lip and palate children. As a result, she was required to undergo intensive inpatient speech therapy, separated from her family for months. During her time in the hospital, she felt fortunate to be so well while surrounded by truly ill children and played piano for the other patients. Her mama visited her faithfully.

Janice had to brave the gauntlet of childhood and adolescence with facial scars. However in high school, others were drawn to her tender heart and evident beauty and she became a woman known for her ability to love.

At the age of 30, on February 15th, 1979 Janice gave birth to me, Sarah Lynn Root.

The first thing she wrote about in my baby book was my ‘perfect’ nose.

I don’t know why my mama was spared the ridicule of a village, the threats of the local witchdoctor, the murmured rumors of the secret fears of curses and evil spirits. I don’t know why being born on our side of the Atlantic ensured her access to care so early, the attention of specialists, or the ability to live a ‘normal’ life. Her road to healing has not been without difficult days, but I am so grateful for the hurt that she has been spared.

And since I know that every good and perfect gift comes down from the Father of heavenly lights, I will praise Him for taking care of my precious mama. He saved the life of the little baby girl with the open lip and the blue eyes, the one he knew from her mother’s womb. Hallelujah.

The big move!

Bed 6 of A ward is now empty.

This Saturday, Aissa’s medical team decided to release her to the hospitality center, a transitional unit in town for post operative patients. So after one full month on the Africa Mercy she slipped into her best dress and plastic bead necklace and we packed her bags.

She was a bit insecure, running to me and hugging my waist, lingering there for a moment, her backpack slung over her shoulders. However, once it came time for us to make our exit, she marched to the door. Everyone in the ward, patients and caregivers alike chorused “bye bye!” as she waved and nurses came out of doorways and stopped in the halls to see her off.

We piled into the Land Rover that would take us to our destination and she watched with wide eyes as the city moved past her window. Upon pulling in the compound, we entered the main building. While waiting to receive their room assignment, I asked Aissa if she wanted to play outside.

“Outside?” she replied, hope lighting her face. For the past month her outside playtime has been restricted to 1-2 hours daily on deck 7 of the ship, so the thought of having unrestricted access to play ‘outside’ was a very exciting prospect indeed. She tentatively went out and returned with a red balloon and a new friend.

We then found her room and carefully pasted all of her arts and crafts pages to the walls around her bed. After a tour of the bathrooms, showers and drinking fountains, we were greeted by another of the patients who had stayed with her on the ship.

Ever attentive, Aissa then asked me where was my room? I explained that I was staying at the ‘other hospital’ and that I would come to visit often. Her bottom lip immediately flew out as she expressed her displeasure. She promptly replied “ mi yidaa”, “I don’t like that.”

I decided the best course of action was to ignore the comment and hope it didn’t come up again. I left her playing and slipped away to return to the ship. The following day I was told that Aissa hadn’t shed a tear at my departure, and that she was relishing her playtime outside, coloring in the shade with another little girl.

Aissa has an appointment with the ENT specialist to examine her ears on Saturday and one final post-operative visit to the ship on Monday. Everyone is so pleased at how her graft healed. The small wound under her eye is being cleaned daily and Lord willing we should be ready to return to Meskine next week.

Everything is going so well, thank you for your prayers. Yesterday was more than just Aissa’s release from the hospital. For the first time in over a year, she didn’t have to wear a bandage on her face.

Hallelujah.

Update

Last week, during the little bird’s dressing change the ophthalmologist/eye surgeon came to examine the remaining small opening in her skin graft, just under her eye. He believes that rather than try to close this area with a stitch, it should be left to close on its own, thereby decreasing the scar tissue formation and the pull on the lower eyelid.

In addition, he thinks that her cornea is out of danger. While her eye still does not fully close, the lid does cover the cornea and he states that the small cloudy spot currently present is old, and not actively threatening her vision.

This week I will attempt to speak with Aissa’s medical team to decide when we might return to Cameroon. We may need to make arrangements to continue wound care after arriving home, please pray that we have God’s wisdom.

Suzanne

My heart is breaking for Suzanne.

Suzanne was admitted to our hospital approximately one year ago with a mysterious skin disease. The medications in our limited arsenal did nothing as the lesions ravaged her body. Within a period of months, her arms and legs were covered with stubborn open ulcers that refused to heal and her face erupted with thickened patches of blackened crusts.

She has been forced to use a wheelchair because the ulcers cause her so much pain that she can no longer walk. Wrapping herself in a scrap of mosquito netting to keep the flies from her face, she can occasionally escape her hospital room and go outside.

She has been away from her young children for this entire time. They visit her at the hospital but howl when the time comes to return home and leave their mama.

We have conducted two separate biopsies which have stumped the pathologists in the U.S., the results are always returned inconclusive. Finally, were put in contact with a talented dermatologist Dr. Dan Wikland who has worked in Cameroon. After contemplating Suzanne's symptoms and looking at her photos, she was diagnosed with chromoblastomycosis, a fungal infection.

We attempted treatment with the only antifungal medication available to us. It failed, so we searched for another more potent alternative. It was not to be found in Cameroon.

Finally the Dr. Dan found and purchased the medication online and shipped it to our hospital. Suzanne is one month into her treatment. Progress is slow, it can take 3-6 months to see any change, and there is a high likelihood of relapse after the treatment is finished.

And just today, I found that her husband is divorcing her, his marriage to another woman already in the works.

So while my body is in Togo on a ship overlooking the ocean, my heart is in sub-Saharan Cameroon, in box 6 of pavilion 3 with Suzanne as she fights. She wavers between stunning optimism and overwhelming despair and I am praying for her today.

Please pray with me.

Update

Hello everyone,

Aissa is doing very well. There is a huge crowd of kiddos in her ward and just this morning she was singing songs and playing kickball with the whole gang.

The wound care specialists currently caring for her tell me that she is healing well. There is one small corner of her skin graft that has pulled loose, leaving a bit of exposed muscle, but they are optimistic that this will close up within the next two weeks.

In addition to the muscle flap and skin grafting, Aissa's medical team attempted to stitch the outer corner of her affected eye closed. The scar tissue was pulling the eyelid down, exposing her cornea, leaving her vulnerable to blindness on that side. However, the stitches pulled through and the eye opened again.

So this Tuesday the surgeon closed the eye once more and we are attempting to keep the little bird from picking at her sutures.

Thank you all so much for your prayers, both Aissa and Jean seem to be at peace.

Blessings, Sarah

I love you

Aissa is learning English.

Most afternoons on my way around the ship, people stop me to tell me about the activities of our little bird. Everyone seems to have a story about her joy, her courage, some new phrase she learned, how smart and clever she is and they take the time to share.

Today, Aissa learned to say ‘I love you’. She exuberantly exclaimed this to all within hearing distance as she basked in the nurses’ praise and attention. She accepts hugs and kisses readily, runs to the staff she knows, wrapping her arms around them and sits in any lap that might happen to be available. She affectionately acts as mother hen to all the younger children that toddle around the ward, bandages on their faces and tubes in their noses, gently trying to pick them up, gently placing them on the floor again if they cry.

Tonight I went for my evening visit and the little bird sat on my lap while she munched an egg. I then chased her around the ward while she squealed and tried to hide from my tickles. After a rousing game of soccer with another sweetpea who had just undergone a cleft palate repair, we sang the hokey pokey which, by the way, is guaranteed to attract kiddos like flies to honey.

In the meantime, her skilled nurses flowed around us, patiently accomplishing their tasks while stepping over our kicked soccer ball or dodging our flailing limbs as we danced, making way for Aissa as she ran, screaming with robust laughter, through their already crowded workspace.

One of the nurses remarked to me that Aissa was like a different child, so much more at peace than when she first arrived, so much more joyful and affectionate.

Indeed.

I believe that God answered our prayers and blessed Aissa with peace during our time on the ship. I also firmly believe that he used the lovely nurses of the Africa Mercy to accomplish this. How beautiful they are.

Love. The love of God reaches through them to bless Aissa with a sense of security, stability and acceptance. Do they know how much they have already meant to a little girl who just one year ago almost lost her life to neglect and poverty? Do they realize that their hard work and patience, their extra efforts and their love has impacted her soul?

So Aissa learned to say ‘I love you’? How appropriate.

Good things

Hello everyone,

I am sure you can't wait to see Aissa's sweet new face. I can't wait to show it to you.

However, she is now in the initial stages of healing, and while all is going very well, I won't be sharing the images of her new cheek just yet.

It will only get better and better. Remember what is promised to those who wait...

Please pray

Day 5 post op had finally arrived. The time had come to unwind the long bandage wrapped around Aissa’s head to get a glimpse of what lie beneath.

Given her fiery personality and strong will, the original plan was to sedate the little madam in order to keep her and her wound safe. However, the team decided to attempt the dressing change without medicating her, and she was amazing.

Decked out in one of her finest dresses, sporting a pair of hot pink plastic glasses, green flower taped to her head, she hobbled her way down the hallway, moving gingerly along because of the pain from the skin graft donor site on her thigh. We were escorted into the ICU, where the wound care nurses were setting up. She slipped off her shoes and held up her arms to be placed on the bed. Catching a glimpse of the TV, she pointed for it to be turned on and sat watching the program while occasionally sneaking a peak at the hustle and bustle around her.

Then it was time. She was wary as the nurse began to clip away at the gauze, and held her nasogastric tube tenderly, lest we bump it and cause her pain. However, she held up her mirror and watched our every move. With this measure of control she was so courageous and sat very still, not making a single protest until the many layers had been removed, stitches clipped, her new face revealed.

Her uncle smiled. She stared.

Was she in shock? Was she frightened? Confused? The little bird didn’t make a single peep, just stared, then put down her mirror and watched the TV.

And so she is absorbing it all, the love of the nurses, the discipline and boundaries of the ward, the pain and medications, all part of being put back together again.

We’ll give our girl some time. Please pray.

What a nut...

Watching everything in her mirror

Listening carefully

The gang

Maison Bethel

As soon as the girls saw me, their faces lit up in recognition. They ran, tackling me around the waist and didn’t let go for the next hour. Despite the heat, they lounged on my lap, tucked themselves into the curve of my arm, rested their heads on my shoulder or knee. They occupied every inch of my free space.

Maison Bethel is a Catholic orphanage here in Lome. Bathed in sunlight, murals painted on the walls, the main room is covered in last week’s art project, paper butterflies. The wardrobe stands ready in the corner with clothing for kiddos of all sizes, toothbrushes lined up in the bathroom. Outside is a large garden, each plot has been placed in the care of a specific child responsible for tending the life that grows in his or her domain.

I visited last Saturday and had a great time. I befriended the older girls, ages 9-14 and they practically suffocated me as we crowded together in the humid coastal heat, singing songs in French and English, me listening to their rapid-fire conversations in Ewe while we finished our butterflies. They asked me many questions, and this week they remembered everything I had told them.

Mercy Ships visits each Saturday for a few hours, bringing along a Bible story and the ever popular activity box. I imagine they are used to goodbyes, but still they joyfully carried our supplies out to the car on their heads, standing in a big crowd on the road to wave as we pulled away. I hadn’t planned on going each weekend during my time here, but as Saturday drew near, God placed them on my heart.

They were so excited that I had come back.

Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of the orphanage and they begged me to come. There will be dancing, singing and the most exciting, new clothes! I can think of few places I would rather be.

A few of the sweetpeas with their new teddy bears.

Happy Independence Day!

Meltdown, yikes.

Aissa’s screams rang through the corridor of the hospital, clearly heard even though the doors to her ward were shut. It appears that after 48 straight hours of vomiting, our girl’s appetite had returned and she was ready to eat. However, orders are that she have nothing by mouth at least until tomorrow…and she was not pleased.

After spending the past 3 days curled into a ball under a ladybug quilt, feeling pretty awful, I was so pleased to see her stronger, active, fighting. Physically restraining her while Jean ate so that she wouldn’t steal his food was not so pleasant, but we went on a little walk and she calmed down.

Today is Independence Day for Togo, and the nurses had cleverly spread out an arts and crafts project to tempt the little bird during her time of captivity on the ward. Settling herself into a chair just her size, she began the very serious process of pasting together flags to decorate for the event. During this time, she insisted that her balloon flower be taped to the top of her head, stuck right on top of the huge swath of bandage that won’t be removed until tomorrow. Properly perched, setting about her business, she truly looked the part of the ‘little madam’ a nickname given her by the loving nurses of A ward.

Independence day. The nurse approached Aissa for the daily mouth and nasal cleaning. Aissa promptly grabbed up the swabs and studying herself in the mirror, did an expert job of removing crusted blood from around her nasogastric tube, all the while flinching with the pain. We stood amazed as she did it herself, determined to get it right, not afraid of the discomfort, so brave.

She beamed at our praise, which was rightly heaped upon her, and smiled for the photographer who had come down to capture the flag-making festivities. She flirted with the camera, smiling, waving, holding up her flag…covered in dressings, tube in her nose, wound on her thigh from the skin graft, forgetting the past 48 hours of pain, nausea, vomiting, hunger.

That’s our little madam, extraordinary, independent, Aissa.

Aissa with her friends Liz and Ali.

Operation day

Aissa’s surgery was scheduled for this morning.

I arrived in her ward early. She had just woken up and was chatting with the nurses while dressed in her children’s gown and the plastic bead necklace she made in arts and crafts. We convinced her to change into something that fit her a little better, and she began to happily show me the pages she had finished in her coloring book.

Then it came time for her to take a sedating agent to calm her before heading to the OR. She wasn't in the mood to take meds and we had to hold her down while she kicked and screamed. She spit most of the medication out, making us wonder if she had swallowed anything at all. However, not 10 minutes later, her head dropped groggily to my shoulder.

The surgical team didn’t come for us quite as soon as we anticipated, so it became a bit of a struggle to corral our little drunken, staggering wildcat as she made her demands for food, water and a trip outside to play. Finally, I hefted all 40 plus pounds of her onto my back and with the help of one of the lovely mamas staying on the ward, firmly tied her there and began to walk the hallways, singing every lullaby I could think of with a few hymns thrown in for good measure.

No sooner had she fallen asleep than the team came to shuttle us over to the OR. She was completely calm and lay docile as a lamb on the table while the anesthesia team began their work. Suddenly the room was alive as everyone ran around, completing their tasks before the arrival of the surgeon.

When all was in place, Dr. Gary, world renowned for his work in NOMA repair (Aissa’s illness is called NOMA) came in and prayed over her before making the first incision. He prayed that God would grant them creativity and success during the operation, and that Aissa would grow up to love Jesus and impact others for him.

What proceeded can only be described as miraculous.

With precision and skill the team peeled back the scalp to harvest the fan shaped temporalis muscle that lies just over the ear, twisting it downward to cover the defect, or hole in Aissa’s face. Next, Dr. Tertius a visiting plastic surgeon who specializes in skin grafts, took a portion of skin from Aissa’s thigh to place it on her face. This particular technique elicited a ‘holy crap’ comment from the visiting photojournalist who was snapping photos for an article being written about Aissa:-)

The team was excited. We were all aware that what we were witnessing was special, and everyone was taking pictures with their personal cameras in order to capture the moment when Aissa’s face was restored.

And then there it was.

This little baby girl from a village in the middle of the bush, who came to us stubbornly clinging to life, had a cheek. For the first time since I have known her, the grotesque hole, exposing teeth and tongue was gone, covered over and blanketed by a protective layer of muscle and beautiful, beautiful skin.

It struck me then, the extravagance of God’s love. Who could have imagined that this little girl, who almost slipped away to die in obscurity would now be the recipient of the attention of a team of professionals, specialists in their fields? That all the excitement, effort, skill and precision would be for her restoration?

Extravagant love, should I have expected anything different?

Then, using someone's camera, I indulged in a little instant gratification and slipped back to the ward to show Jean Aissa’s new face. He stared, then asked me “So, there’s no more wound?” “Timi” I replied, finished. I then shared the joy with the nurses, who were thrilled to get a glimpse of the miracle under the bandages. We prayed together, thanking God for what he had done, and I returned to the OR.

Aissa woke with difficulty, bucking and straining as she attempted to clear her head and get control. But with another dose of pain meds, she quieted and was sleeping soundly when I left her. Thank you all for your prayers, God has honored them, please continue to pray as the next week will be filled with medications, wound care, tube feedings, and pain control. I will keep you updated.

Loved

Poor baby.

Our courageous little bird is struggling to acclimate to life in a hospital ward. After months of having the run of the village with little or no supervision or discipline, being corralled in a hospital unit day after day is excruciating. In his new and strange environment, surrounded by new people, a new language and patients with frightening facial disfigurements, her wings are clipped and she is having a hard time.

When I visit her, she insists on leaving with me. She waits by the door and would follow me down the hallway if someone didn’t stop her. This is when she cries and wails and my heart feels as if it’s being ripped out.

Does she feel abandoned once again? Does she feel I don’t love her? Is what I am doing hurting her? Will she grow up to think she is unworthy of love because all of the many times she has been left behind? I pray not.

This past Sunday I was able to participate in church on the ward. The double doors to the unit were swung wide open and chairs lined the hallway. The drums were placed front and center, and patients and caretakers sat on beds and stools as the worship began. The music was loud, rhythmic and contagious as we praised the God who loves us.

Next came the message. It could not have been more perfect. The scripture came from Isaiah 49:14-15 “But Zion said, ‘ The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.’ Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!”

Abandoned by her father as a baby, left by her mama at the tender age of four, neglected, abused, malnourished, the flame of her life nearly extinguished, Aissa was never forgotten by God. That is a tie too intimate to ever be broken. She is safe in his arms.

At the end of the service Aissa held up her arms, meaning she wanted to ride on my back. She wanted to be carried as her mama had carried her. I obliged and we swayed together as we praised her Father.

The One who will never forget her.

Battle of the wills

It began with breakfast. Aissa wanted chocolate and only chocolate on her bread. She pushed and whined and reached and grabbed until I got her what she wanted. Immediately afterward, she began to pull off her dress, saying it was dirty. I tried to get her to wait until we were in the room rather than stripping down in the middle of the dining room, but nothing doing. She was naked in less than a few seconds.

I walked away from her, leaving her in the dining room. She had already begun to cry and then refused to return upstairs to our rooms. We couldn't leave her naked in the middle of the lobby, so I took her by the arm and pulled her to the stairs. At which point she collapsed into a heap, forcing me to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way. I took her into my room, but she wanted to go outside. I let her go outside, but she kept trying to run away. When we tried to restrain her she began to scream. A guest at the mission walked up to her to tell her “not to cry”… it didn’t help.

I then convinced her to go to the pool. She was so sleepy she almost slipped off my back and into the water. She didn’t make a sound, unlike yesterday when she wouldn’t stop chatting while splashing around.

After the pool, she felt somewhat better and after putting on dry clothes, we watched a video in my room. I tried every trick in the book to get her to take a nap, but she was having none of it. I even went so far as to put her on my back like the African mamas and try to rock her, but she absolutely would not snooze. My prayer went something like this “Please God, just 30 minutes, if she could sleep for just 30 minutes.” Over and over and over again…

However by this point she was happier. I let her go to play with her uncle for a while and she tolerated this well enough. She then came to me and asked to swim again. So for the second time that day, we headed to the pool. Halfway through our swim, she got hungry, and began to demand food.

We headed to lunch, but things went quickly downhill from there… She began to dip her bread in her orange juice, then stuff whole loaves into her glass. She wanted to drink the wine that was on the table. She demanded a sauce I didn’t think she would like and when I gave her some to taste-test threw a fit that I hadn’t covered her rice and got up from the table. She then ran away outside, and Jean went after her. He dragged her back into the dining room crying and screaming. As soon as he let her go, she slunk away again, sniffling and crying, heading for the parking lot. I followed with a plate of rice and her drink. The kitchen staff was wonderful. As soon as they saw what a difficult time we were having, they tried to ply her into the TV room for cartoons. It worked, and soon one of the ladies had Aissa propped on her lap, eating rice obediently from a spoon. Soon thereafter, Aissa transferred herself to my lap and continued to eat.

Aissa then proceeded to down a plate of rice, a loaf of bread, a potato, half a papaya and two glasses of orange juice. I had to run an errand and when I came back, I made my way to the TV room. Aissa fell out of the doorway, onto her hands and knees and began to cry. The girl was a mess, she was exhausted.

So I took her to my room and gave her a shower. We changed her dressing and rubbed her down with lotion. I turned on the air conditioning, hoping she might sleep…thus began World War III. I was determined she needed to rest, she was determined she was going outside to play. Every time she got out of bed, I put her back in, without a word. Perhaps she might get tired and give up? Nope. When I finally gave in and let her go outside, she promptly laid down on the cement walkway (naked I might add, because she refused to put on clothing) and fell fast asleep.

Sheesh.

I scream you scream...

Journal entry 14th April, 2010

Today it was time for a little adventure.

After almost two full days in the Catholic mission, I was afraid the troops were getting restless, so I packed us up and we forayed out into the wild world to find the ice cream shop! Aissa put on her best dress, at which point everyone exclaimed “Oh, she’s a girl!?”. With her shaved head and lack of earrings, the clothes make all the difference. When I asked Jean if he wanted to go “out” he looked up with excitement “Out?” he asked, and promptly changed into his good clothes as well.

We then set off, weaving between scores of parked cars, dodging traffic as I breathed prayers for God’s protection. We had to cross four busy streets, but the traffic seemed to open up for us, and Aissa allowed me to hold her hand. I ushered them into the air-conditioned, sleek black and silver interior of the ice cream parlor and we marched up to the counter.

So many choices! For someone who had never even tasted ice cream, deciding between tiramisu or pistachio was a little tough. We went with an old standby, chocolate and sat down to enjoy. The staff was aware that it was the first time for Jean and Aissa to taste ice cream, so they gave us a discount.

The flat screen TV on the wall was playing Charlie Chaplain. Apparently Aissa is a huge fan, she was so enthralled with his antics that she forgot to eat her ice cream! Charlie beat out ice cream, imagine that… Jean and I both laughed at her open-mouthed stare as she sat, enraptured by the show. We hit a little rough spot when the princess was asked to share her water, but after polishing off our scoops, we cleaned up to return to the mission.

The traffic on the way back was thicker, and it was quite difficult to cross the street. I made it with Aissa in tow, but Jean had to wait on the other side for an opportunity. Aissa then became antsy and pulled away from my hand, leaning toward the traffic. I grabbed her dress and held on, she squirmed and whined, but she had met her match with me. After all, God didn’t save her life to let her get hit by a car!

Jean finally made his way over and she allowed me to pick her up. I carried her bulk and Jean carried her shoes, my camera and water bottle and we arrived safely at our destination.

That’s enough adventure for one day, I’m ready for a nap.

What, me worry?

Dinnertime and I was so worried. We were eating in a big group, what if Aissa misbehaved? What if she couldn’t eat the food? What if she didn’t like it? What if she began to reach out and grab what she wanted instead of being patient? What if she screamed and threw a fit? Would she and Jean know how to eat with silverware?

Then, to my horror, the meal was served in courses, with the soup and salad first. Not fast enough! If we didn’t get food into Aissa right away she would turn into a monster! And what did Jean know about the soup bowl, the salad plate, the silverware, the serve-yourself table of food?

I needn’t have worried. Aissa made a face at the salad, but ate a piece of bread happily enough, and Jean handled his soup and bread like a pro, with all the delicacy of the king of England. The entrée was served soon thereafter, and Aissa dug in to the rice and meat, which is something she LOVES, with her spoon. She cautiously scooped into her mouth, which opens only partially due to her wound, losing almost not a single grain of rice and waving me over to clean away those strays that dared to land on the tablecloth in front of her…

The Catholic sisters, having heard Aissa’s story called her ‘beautiful’, cooed and smiled at her while she obligingly acted cute. We had a nice table conversation and as they finished their meal they wished us well on our journey.

What, me worry? Never.

Takeoff!

Journal entry April 12th, 2010;

Well today was the big day. I woke early and went about finishing up the last minute projects that are inherent to a big trip.

All our bags packed, I headed over to the hospital to find Aissa. Many of my colleagues approached me, wishing me blessed travels, excited that the time had finally come for us to go. We shook hands and exchanged smiles, Aissa was the star of the moment.

After Aissa had enjoyed a nice long bath and had changed into clean clothes, we packed the car and made our way to the airport. Our time waiting for our flight was pleasant, Aissa thoroughly enjoyed her new crayons and coloring book and played with Josiah, Andy’s son who came along to keep her company.

Checking in and securing boarding passes, going through passport control and paying airport tax was effortless, a major answer to prayer. We ate a leisurely lunch and actually saw our plane land! Aissa was all excitement and we hastily swept away crumbs and shuffled our bags to the boarding area.

Jean was stopped by officials at the door of the boarding area, at the door heading to the tarmac as well as an attendant on the plane! Apparently he didn’t quite look like he belonged! I simply showed them his boarding pass and we sailed through. We found three seats together, buckled in and waited for takeoff! I will not lie, the flight was rough. Our first leg from Maroua to Garoua was especially rough with much turbulence. I think Aissa panicked a bit and began to strain against her seatbelt. We tried to encourage her to keep it on, but she was having none of it. She began to cry and yell until an attendant came by to say I could hold her in my lap. Thus began approximately 2 hours of Aissa the tornado.

This little girl hasn’t had to sit still more than 5 mintues in the past year, perhaps longer. Trying to keep her occupied was a real struggle, and I do not look forward to the upcoming flight. She was all over those three seats, she new every inch of them, she climbed, she jumped, she turned, she cried, she whined…

I had prayed the evening previous that God would provide us with kind people on our journey. He absolutely answered my prayer. On the first leg of the flight, the ladies in front of us complimented my Fulfulde, on the second leg, another set of ladies gave Aissa candy when she cried. We were seated next to a young mother with a lovely baby and they both smiled and cooed at Aissa. The attendant couldn’t have been more kind, waving to us on her way past with drinks, allowing me to hold Aissa on my lap to prevent a meltdown.

Upon landing, Aissa pushed and shoved to get to the front of the plane, but the other passengers were patient with her. Our luggage arrived safely and we found our taxi chauffer with no trouble. Douala is nothing like the north, where the weather is hot, brown and dry. Here, everything is lush and green, but with the high humidity, the sweat just pours off. I think Aissa was quite uncomfortable, which only increased the whining, demanding behavoir.

However, once we checked into our rooms, we found that the Catholic mission where we are staying has a pool! Praise be to God:-) After a bit of splashing about, a change a clothes and a cool night breeze, she was in a much better mood. And so now we wait for dinner, this girl can pack away more than me! God was so faithful today, so many things went very well, he is good and we are safe.

Hallelujah. A photo with Aissa and Jean before heading to the airport.

A fragrant incense

After our devotional time together this morning, the team gathered around me and prayed. They thanked the Lord for the time that we have been together, for all that God has taught me, for the way he is setting me free. We praised that Lord that while the work has been difficult, he has been faithful, we praised him that I have never been alone.

Placing the trip into God’s hands, we asked him to bless it, we prayed that he would be near and we would see his intervention in even the smallest details. We prayed that Jean and Aissa might be calm and at peace.

We asked that Jean and Aissa would be open to Jesus and that God would provide a translator on the ship who speaks their heart language. Our longing to see them whole, both physically and spiritually was laid out before the God who loves them.

Finally, we prayed over Aissa’s surgery. We prayed that all would go well, that her medical team would be blessed and that this little girl who came to us so near death, would be finally free of her bandages, that we would be able to see her beautiful face.

They committed me with their blessing to Mercy Ships, my new home for the next month, stating they were proud of me, affirming to me their love.

Amen.

Adventure!

Today Andy went to Aissa’s village to pick up her Uncle Jean. They found him with no trouble at all and he willingly packed his bags to return to the hospital. He and Aissa will stay there together until we leave Monday morning.

Aissa was over the moon to see him! I haven’t seen her smile this much in a long time. She kept pulling everyone into their room to show them that her uncle had returned. It was great to see her happy.

She and I then went to the house where she has been staying these past months. She sang, and skipped, and shook a little bag of peanuts like a maraca as we walked. We collected her things to bring them to the hospital and on our way home, many people greeted her. It seems they all know little Aissa, star of the neighborhood and she waved and smiled.

I wondered how she would handle the changes in that were coming? She has been here in Meskine for the past year and the hospital, market and it’s surrounding houses have been the center of her universe. Now we prepare for a cross-country adventure! Will she be scared? Excited? When we return and she goes home to her village in the remote bush of Cameroon, will she be happy to be reunited with her sister and grandma? Will she miss her friends and neighbors?

Thank you all for your prayers, I will keep you updated.

Little bird

I saw Aissa in the market today. She was walking toward me, her bottom lip sticking out, her chin lowered just a little. She tends to pout when she doesn’t get her own way, she has become a bit spoiled during her time with us, perhaps someone didn’t give her something she wanted?

She had sand on the side of her face, and I brushed it away and stood with her for a moment. Were the other kids unkind to her? Did they push her down? She doesn’t understand my Fulfulde and I don’t understand her Mufu so actually verbalizing my thoughts was not possible. I simply took her hand and led her with me into the market. I stroked her now wooly head of hair, growing back after it was last shaved, and bought a sprite for me and a cookie for her.

We then walked to my office, she knows the way well. As I followed her down the crowded hallway to the door with my name on it, I wondered how much of this she would remember when she grew up? Would she remember the nice white woman who smiled at her and stroked her neck and bought her a treat? Would she remember calling out my name “Sadatou!” and cheerfully skipping up to me? Would she remember how we loved her? I hope so.

We entered my office, she slipped off her Mickey Mouse sandals and I lifted her onto the table. Hefted is more like it, this girl is solid! She has had no trouble packing on the pounds since arriving! I checked her ears and she watched my face, gauging my reaction. She has a habit of doing this, reading faces when she is being examined or having her dressing changed. She peeks at you out of the corner of her eye with a slightly worried expression, at least until you look straight at her and smile, then her face lights up, she knows all is well.

My exam finished, she hops off the table, mon petit oiseau (my little bird) as I have nicknamed her. Always chirping and singing the visit seems to have lifted her spirits and she walks to the door, smiling.

And I close it after her, with a smile.

Child of my own womb

Jacqueline and I went to visit Mama Bello this afternoon.

Recently her sister Didja was hospitalized. Didja’s chest xray shows severe disease, with an ominous shadow taking over her entire left lung. Our diagnostic capabilities exhausted, we aren’t sure what to do but pray.

I helped to care for Mama's daughter Djanatou during Djanatou's hysterectomy in 2008. Mama refers to me as a “bingel jey reedu am” or child of her own womb. So in her time of need, fearful that her sister would die, she came to me.

Didja has since been sent home, and Jacqueline and I made a visit to Mama’s house today. Mama is a widow who lives with her three co-wives, their husband dead now for the past 6 years. They have a combined total of more than 30 children and their compound is a whirlwind of activity. Half-naked babies, wearing only t-shirts, their little bottoms hanging out, run amongst mothers putting laundry on the line, washing their faces with water from the big clay jug in the garden or preparing food on mats in the courtyard. A flock of preteen girls, all dressed in their finest on their way home from Koranic school, greeted us in turn.

We waded through the crowd while calling out a chorus of hellos and found our way to Mama’s room. We sat with her and Jacqueline who speaks flawless Fulfulde, asked questions about Didja. The situation has worsened, Mama is quite worried, and keeps asking us what can be done. We both know the answer, so Jacqueline turns the conversation back to God, reminding Mama that ultimately, He is in control.

After deciding that Mama would bring Didja to the hospital to see us the following week, I shared with Mama that I will be leaving soon. She hid her face in her hands for a few moments, and when she emerged, asked if I would be back to work again. I told her I would like to return to visit friends, but I was still praying to know God’s will.

She then took my hand and thanked me. I wondered at that moment why I would ever leave this place, leave the people I care for and have cared for during their times of pain and illness. I have been so blessed by their kindness and friendship. My time here has been precious.

I would do it all over again.

Samuel

Samuel has AIDS.

He was hospitalized from November of 2009 to January of 2010 with a collapsed lung due to TB. Despite continuous efforts to drain the fluid that fills up his chest, it collects again, the lung will not reinflate and the TB meds don’t seem to be helping.

In addition, he has a connective tissue cancer common to patients with AIDS that has started to cause his face and lips to swell. He is growing large tumors on his tongue and soon swallowing could become quite difficult.

Here in Cameroon, where your family is your health insurance, savings and retirement plan, he spent his entire hospitalization completely alone. Not one single visitor came.

He had a friend or “patron” who paid for his care during his time with us, and a work acquaintance in the village who brought him food occasionally, but otherwise he was on his own.

Despite his protests that he was not yet “healed” we had to send him home. I believe he is still coming to terms with his illness and came in to see me last week for a follow-up visit.

A new doctor who recently started working in Meskine examined Samuel’s mouth and suggested immediately that he go to Yaounde, the capital city in the south. But as we discussed this option the weight of poverty, fatigue and hopelessness settled over Samuel’s countenance and his face simply fell.

Treatment in the capital city is an unrealistic option for many of our patients. The cost of transport alone exceeds their meager means and for a man like Samuel, estranged from his family and already a burden to his patron, there was little hope of travelling south.

In that moment I understood that while treatment for Samuel’s body was important, care of his soul was critical.

So I locked the doors to my office, sat down and asked Samuel if he knew God. He told me yes, obediently reciting what he had probably been taught as a child. When I told him that Jesus came to die for him, because he, Samuel, was loved by God, he began to cry.

We talked briefly about the hope God gives for a future in heaven, the assurance we have of His presence in the midst of our pain, and His forgiveness of our sins. We then prayed together.

My prayer this week is that God, in His faithfulness and mercy would pursue Samuel.

I pray that God would set him free.

Ousmane

I’m doing research tonight.

One of my patients Ousmane, a tired teenage boy who is hospitalized for the second time since the beginning of the year has had to undergo approximately 7 blood transfusions. Apparently his bone marrow is tired too, and has stopped making red and white blood cells and platelets. The result is profound anemia, fevers due to the attack on his immune system, and regular nosebleeds due to his inability to clot.

He’s dangling on the edge, and so I’m reading about his condition.

He and his father have put their faith in us, and we are truly the end of the road. No hematology consult here, specialists are simply not available in our part of Cameroon, and travelling down south and paying to see a hematologist is out of their reach. We have conducted a bone marrow biopsy, but it will take 2 months to receive the results and having a diagnosis doesn’t guarantee that we will be able to treat him.

The prognosis isn’t good. Yet they look at me with hope in their eyes each morning as I enter the room.

As I read an article on his illness, the gardener outside my window sings a song while watering the plants and I am struck by the needs of the people who place their trust in us. We are the end of the road, if we can’t heal them, there is no other option. They rely on us.

The hopelessness is overwhelming, our impotence frustrating. I know that God is in control, but truth is not always felt and I am struggling this evening. I want this boy to be well, and I cannot make it so.

Aissa update!

Aissa's tentative operation date is April 19-21st. At this time we will be traveling to Lome, Togo where the ship is currently located.

The Africa Mercy, our home for the months of April/May!

A cool bath on a hot day! Not much longer and she won't fit in this tub!

Thanks for all your prayers! I will keep you updated! God bless, Sarah