We just had the 2012 Africa Mercy International Film Festival on board tonight, and it was a smash hit. It’s hard to miss when you’ve got everyone in the community making videos and/or simply rooting each other on.

Josh Callow was my “co-chair” (as it has been put) in organizing the event. I can only best describe him as an Administration Angel, the guy knows how to get stuff done. Here we are with the winners of the Grand Prize, with their musical entry “On a Mercy Ship.”

Hunting for prizes was definitely a highlight. I forgot to get any photos, of course, but the belt buckle collection we found was priceless. Most had moving parts, including a spinning dollar sign being fought over by two cobras. But the Transformers brass knuckles buckles may have been the best. I’ll need to hunt those down.

The AMIFF is a black tie event, or at least we try to get as close as we can with our limited resources. If nothing else it’s the best looking night of the outreach. Some of the girls were even able to create dresses out of bed sheets tonight. You honestly would have had no idea, at least none of us did until they told us.

We had 11 entries that made it past the judges, everything from a silent film to a Bollywood special involving dancing Gurkhas. I can honestly say that the judging process is as fun as any other part of the event if you get the right mix of people. It’s hilarious to see their reactions in close quarters. Putting this thing on for the second time was well worth the effort and ridiculously late hours.

Obviously, we had a blast, and thanks to Ken lots of tasty food. I’ve posted the two videos that Josh and I made to promote the event. You can check them out on my Google+ profile. I’ll post a few more pictures of the evening after I snag them from my fellow crewmates.

At least, if you’re doing well in the luck department.

So here’s a little anecdote for you, since blogging has been my weak point of late. Airports. They’re not a novel concept. In fact, if you’ve traveled much you’re probably already questioning whether or not you want to continue reading this simply based on the unwelcome nature of the subject.

The thing is, airports in Africa are generally different. From broken windows in the terminals to rocks getting sucked into engines on the runway, you’ve got a pretty diverse experience as compared to what most of us would consider usual. Bribes and shakedowns aside.

Last night I was prepared to get up and take my buddy Matt to the airport at 10am for his 1PM flight. It’s an unusual time for us, because he was flying with Royal Air Moroc instead of the usual suspects to Europe. But when I got back from a late-night motorcycle ride I found out his flight had been moved to an earlier time. 7am. Not only that, but they wanted him to get there by 4am.

We’d heard all of this through his mother, who had been told by his travel agency.

This presents a number of problems. The first is that we have an 11:30PM curfew, which was about the time we were finding all of this out. This requires getting curfew release forms, waking all sorts of people up, anger, the works. The next problem is staying awake until 3am to leave. Finally we have to leave little Matt in the Lome airport by himself (presumably) for 2-3 hours. That’s when you’re hoping to be more lonely than well attended to.

We managed it all alright after a number of phone calls. I got a hold of his travel agent to verify that the flight had been moved. We stayed up until 3am, packed up a land rover, and got him to the airport in record time. It really helps your land-speed capabilities to have clear roads instead of swarms of motorcycle taxis.

We dropped him off, said goodbye, and came back. After a good night’s sleep (I didn’t work until 2PM) I got up for lunch to discover that Matt had never left. In fact, he was still waiting at the airport, 9 hours later, because his flight had gotten pushed back to its original time.

As far as we know he made it ok. I’m more concerned that he might have burned something down out of boredom (country kid and all). Just let this stand as a warning to you if you’re ever traveling in Africa: bring snacks and good reading material.

Here’s a piece put together by our Marketing Department on Reception, my department. Enjoy!

Jim Twining, who works in the Reception Department on the Africa Mercy, is on the phone when an alarm sounds from the opposite end of the reception desk. Instantly, he springs into action, silencing the alarm and sending pages out to the appropriate personnel. The fire panel is the cause of this rush into action. Somewhere on the ship, the temperature spiked to above-normal levels, and the reception personnel are the first alerted to a possible fire onboard. Luckily, this time it was a false alarm, but Reception must always be on alert in case the threat becomes real.

Reception’s responsibilities include much more than watching the fire panel. The volunteers who serve in this department monitor an array of computer screens, each with a primary focus. These functions consist of vehicle tracking and the emergency response system, as well as the fire procedures, equipment (including the fire panel), and contacts. They make badges for all crew and 911 emergency responses on the ship. They provide a multitude of forms and information for the crew. They are also responsible for answering incoming phone calls to the ship and processing new crew.

The list of their responsibilities is long, but they find time to greet everyone with a smile and a helpful attitude. Not only are they the first people you see when boarding the vessel, but they are also seen every day by the crew and visitors. Sara Rucker loves this aspect of her job in Reception. She says, “I get to greet everyone with a smile. It makes their day, and that in itself is very satisfying.”

While they make everyone’s day a little happier, they are also quite essential to the flow of information. Most crew members know that if they have a question, they can ask Reception. If Reception does not know the answer, they will direct you to the right resource to find an answer. “This is the essential and central plug-in for anyone on the ship. It is a focal point for help and information,” Jim explains. The Reception Department’s desk is manned at all times. Night or day, receptionists are there to help the crew.

Story by Nicole Pribbernow
Edited by Nancy Predaina
Photos by Jacques-Jean Tiziou

We went to Wili Falls in Ghana this last weekend, and while the trip is worthy of a Benin-style post, I just want to share one moment I had while at the falls.

We spent the morning hiking to the upper falls, a fairly brutal trek that took us about an hour and a half. After playing a bit, and having some Easter eggs we bought off the street (boiled eggs in plastic bags) we hiked back down to the lower falls.

While we were there I felt like I could really let go. It was easy to lose yourself watching the water fall for 1,600 feet to the pool below. The simple magnitude and mechanics of it were mesmerizing. Standing under the water as it finally reached the ground was painful. It stung. But it wasn’t something I wanted to walk away from quickly.

I immersed myself, listening to the sound of thousands of gallons pound the surface of the pool. And then I simply sat a few feet away and watched.

That much water falling that far creates its own small windstorm, and it was in that storm that I placed myself for a bit. I wanted to feel the mists and the wind rush past me, to feel the sting, the cold, the collateral force created by the vertical flood.

This might sound a bit cheesy or off to some of you, but I found myself praying. I got on my knees and let my arms rest out to the sides above the water as I the wind rushed past. The stings of the mist pricked my skin. And I prayed.

I reasoned that this waterfall was powerful, but Whoever made it must be stronger still. That it could make me feel alive, so how much more could its Maker? He must laugh to think that I might compare Him to a waterfall. But perhaps it only helps me to better understand.

I know you are greater than this. That you made this. That you are in this but you are not this. I know that the power you exert to maintain its existence is the same that powers the universe, and yet you see me. Small as I am. You love me enough to maintain my existence. By the very power of your will I remain. I continue.

I am sorry I don’t listen to the Word that resonates throughout creation. That I don’t listen though you ever speak. Your power is great, your forgiveness freely given. I want to take it.

More than that, I want to step into your power.

I got up off my knees and walked into the waterfall. The endless streams pounded down on my head, arms and shoulders as I turned and let it come. The freezing cold burned in a thousand stings. The rush came with the beating.

I want your redemptive grace. I accept the scourge, the cleansing fire and molding hands. Cleanse all that needs be removed. Claim all that might be saved. Restore and redeem me. Make me the man you want me to be. Make me the person you created me to be. Exude in me your spirit, and form in me the heart of your Son.

Do to me what you must, for to you I submit myself. My life is not my own. I am yours to command. Yours to prune. Yours to undo and recreate. Purify me. Do what you will. I trust you.

Do what you will.

A story by our marketing department from our time here in Togo. Enjoy!

Her voice resonates in the hospital ward on the Africa Mercy. Her song was one of joy and praise. Everyone pauses as they hear her voice ring out – the medical staff looked overjoyed. For Modi Assenou, her prayers have been answered. For the medical staff, there is amazement over Modi’s ability to sing so soon after surgery. For all, Modi’s joy spreads throughout the ward.

Four years ago, Modi started having pain in her neck. Gradually, a lump started to form below her chin. Before long, it was clear that Modi had a big problem. Modi suffered from an enlarged thyroid gland; also know as a goiter. While the goiter did not cause her any pain or breathing problems, the affect it made on her appearance was clear.

Neighbors would mock her and constantly give her a hard time. While life was becoming difficult, Modi was surrounded by a good support system. Her close friends would give encouragement and help her out. They would say to her, “One day, by God’s will, you will be healed.” Not only did this encouragement give her the resolution to face each day, so did her husbands loyalty and support. Every step of the way, he has supported Modi, giving her love and care. He even traveled with her to Mercy Ships to act as her caregiver so that she would not have to face it alone.

After waiting in line for several hours, Modi was finally seen by the doctors at the mass medical screening in Lomé, Togo.  When it was decided that she would receive surgery, Modi was overjoyed with the answer to her prayers. Even though she would be experiencing so many new things, none of this scared her. “No matter what is going on around me, I am so happy now, nothing can take that away!”

After receiving surgery, Modi began to heal very quickly. After the removal of the thyroid, it may take a little time for the patient to start talking again. For Modi, this was not the case. Within a day of her surgery, she could be found singing in the ward. Her song echoed in the hearts of many patients as she sang, “I will thank the Lord; I will thank the Lord forever!”

Modi is happy to sing for the patients and to share her joy with those around her. She walks away with the parting words, “I am so thankful and grateful for the surgeons and everyone else on the Africa Mercy. It is my prayer that the Lord blesses Mercy Ships to be able to do more and more surgeries.”

Written by: Nicole Pribbernow
Edited by: Nancy Predaina
Photos by: Deb Bell

While I was visiting the States this month I was asked a series of questions with few variations. Well, that’s not true, someone asked me where my hair was going and that was a variant to the norm. But I realized that there are a lot of questions floating around in the heads of my friends and apparently I’m not doing a good job of communicating the answers. So let’s give it a shot and get you up to speed on my life, the future, and what’s going on with Jay (that’s me!).

1. How long have you been with Mercy Ships again?

Contrary to what Kevin has been telling people, I’ve been on the ship for 16 months as of tomorrow. And that’s no April fools. I’ve actually been “with” Mercy Ships for almost two years, but they don’t count fundraising or training in your commitment. If you like dates, I got to the ship December 1st, 2010, which means I spent all but 3 weeks of 2011 in Africa.

2. When are you done with your commitment in Africa?

That’s the tricky question, but it’s looking like September of this year. Technically my commitment is up at the end of November, but I have permission to leave in September if the job in France I’ve applied for comes through.

3. What’s been the most difficult part?

This, among many of the following questions, can be hard to answer. But I think the most challenging part has to be the turnover. In Sierra Leone we saw something like 1,600 people come to the ship and leave on a short term basis. That’s a lot of new faces, all the time. It gets difficult when the friends you make start to leave, and others that were supposed to stay have to go because of medical or family problems. You say goodbye a lot on the ship, and it becomes difficult to remain open to people.

4. What’s been the biggest highlight?

This is hard to pin down, but the people are probably the highlight as well. In spite of the inherent challenges in living with 400 people in a metal box, I’ve made some amazing friends and shared some experiences I’ll never forget (or be allowed to forget). You also get to see a lot of lives changed. It’s a unique place to be and years of experience packed into months.

5. What has God been teaching you?

The answer I gave the most consistently to this was “Grace.” I don’t mean to be pat, because every good Christian will answer like that at some point, but I really have. It’s a long story, but God’s been changing his relationship with me in some fundamental ways that have undermined my self righteousness. Self righteousness I wouldn’t have even labeled as such until I saw it crumbling away to the side. Without the crutches of the things I thought I was doing for God, I’ve realized I was relying on them subconsciously to provide for my salvation in some small way. The truth is that if God is going to save me, He’s doing it simply because He wants to. It can’t be me, because I’ve been shown just how ridiculously debased I can be even when I think I’m being a good little Christian. It’s also incredibly freeing to realize that God loves me so much that He’ll save me in spite of myself. That’s a relief, and it brings some massive joy with it.

6. Are there any girls on the ship?

I generally took this literally, answering that there’s something like 3 girls to every guy on the ship. It’s not like the maritime culture of old, in the new model we welcome women on board en masse. This elicited groans and slaps and other forms of disapproval. Lesson learned. I’ll say this: yes, and she’s really cute.

7. When is your next book coming out?

Not soon enough, apparently. I just finished the biggest portion of the editing process and am hoping the whole thing will be done and ready to release next month (April, 2012). Don’t hold me to that too closely. I’m still waiting on my cover art to be finished.

8. Will you move back to Spokane when you’re done?

Odds are against it. I can’t speak too firmly to the future, Lord willing I’ll still be alive to see it, but I don’t currently feel pulled to Spokane, and there’s nothing in the way of real work for me there. There are amazing people in Spokane, which is the main draw for me, but I’m hoping to pursue a career in writing and Spokane isn’t conducive to that for me. We’ll have to see what happens.

9. OK Mr. Suckypants, you aren’t coming back to Spokane, we don’t want you anyways. Where will you end up next?

Not everyone phrased it that way but some people were displeased with my answer to #8. I do appreciate that they care enough to beat me about the head for it. The answer to this is also uncertain, but as I mentioned above I’ve applied to teach English in France again. This would be perfect for me for a number of reasons:

1. It’s France, the place where my heart lives. It’s hard to live without organs.

2. France, Paris in particular, is an incredibly stimulating place for me to be. I love the language, the culture, food, architecture, everything. When I wrote my second book it took me 8 months (Jan-Aug) to write 15 chapters on the ship. During the 3 weeks I was in France on vacation I wrote 18 chapters. There’s a distinct difference there (in quality as well as quantity – just ask R.H. Culp, who literally picked out the chapters I wrote in France as being superior without realizing it).

3. Teaching English is easy, it’s not demanding and it’s low hours. This is perfect because the only reason I’m doing it (or would do any job at this point) is to pay the bills and get into the country legally. This leaves lots of time for thinking, dreaming, pre-writing, writing, and staring at frogs.

4. Did I mention the food?

10. Are you glad you’ve spent the last two years of your life with Mercy Ships?

Holy crap, two years? Wow. At first glance I didn’t realize that it had been that long. But the answer is yes, I’m really glad for it. I’ve grown so much through my experiences here. It hasn’t been easy, in fact I’d say that most of it has been really difficult for me. But what’s life without struggle? Seriously, that’s where we grow the most and I’ve grown and learned so much about myself that, to me, it’s no wonder God brought me here. I hope I’ve been of help, and I hope that being here has made a difference, but in reality I’m just a drop in a much larger bucket. I think I’ll walk away having been changed more than having changed anything.

If you have any questions of your own, feel free to fire away in the comments below.

This weekend I traveled over 300 miles on my motorcycle. This might not sound like a huge distance if you’re using the interstate as your point of reference, but realize that it took us over 16 hours to cover that amount of distance. That’s over 16 hours to get from Spokane to Seattle.

So there’s some context. The point of the trip was twofold, one was to see my dad all the way up in Abomey, Benin. The second was to relax. We saw my dad at least.

We started out a bit late Friday afternoon, two bikes and four people. Everything went smoothly to the border with Benin, we got our stamps to leave the country without much difficulty and didn’t even have to bother getting passes for our bikes. As we sped off into Benin we felt pretty excited, we’d been allowed to cross for free and it hadn’t taken any time at all.

It was smooth riding to Ouidah, where we filled our bikes up and turned north to head for Abomey. That’s when the road turned to dirt. We got so covered in red dust we looked camoflauged. The hope had been to make it to Abomey in roughly four hours, just after dark. Dark fell long before we made it.

Up until the end of the dirt road things remained fairly uneventful, aside from a truck that almost ran me off the road. But we were getting sore and nightfall was having its effect, namely in that my headlight had tilted up and I couldn’t really see.

We got back onto pavement as our road crossed paths with the highway to Cotonou, and we thought we were scott-free. Unfortunately the paved road was worse in that it was littered with potholes. I don’t mean little bumps and dips in the asphalt. I’m talking 6-8″ pits that could span the entire breadth of the road and that, if hit right, could flip your bike.

I hit two of those, in quick succession. This was partially due to the fact that I couldn’t use my high beam to see farther as it just shot off into the sky. The other reason was that an oncoming truck decided it was a good time to turn on his high beams and effectively blind me. Cyle swerved ahead of me, but I didn’t know why until I almost went over my handlebars. Kris slid into me as we slammed into one pothole at 60km/h, the second after it was even more jarring. Each impact somehow caused my bike to drop a gear, so I found myself in third gear at a speed that third gear was never intended to handle.

Dragging the tops of my feet on the ground in an effort to stabilize us, I fought with my bike to bring it to a halt in utter blindness. Why am I blind? I wondered as I struggled to find the shoulder without going into the nearby ditch. A quick inspection revealed that the impacts had popped my light completely out of its housing. It was no longer tilted towards the sky in a semi-useless fashion but was now pointed directly down at the ground in a completely-useless fashion.

Some little old guy on a scooter came over and led me to a nearby village where we got a new screw and weaseled the light back into place. It stayed for a glorious 20km, during which I could use my high beam and actually SEE things. Then we hit a bump that dislodged the light again.

Thanks to Kris’ ingenuity and Cyle’s supplies the light was put back in place with pink zip ties. This worked decently until we made it all the way to Abomey, but not before Cyle’s gear shifter fell off on the side of the road.

We saw my dad, had dinner, and went to bed. In the morning we got our bikes worked on, and for a delightfully cheap $10 were back in business. My precious light was fixed. We went to a local museum housed in the palaces of the former kings of the region and I learned more about voodoo in the course of two hours than I had in weeks of living here.

We parted ways with my dad and headed south along the road we had taken to get to Abomey. This time we had a lot more fun with the road. The potholes were even worse than I had thought, but in daylight I could navigate through them at speed most of the way. The real danger was the cars, and especially trucks, that would swerve across the entire road to miss any and all potholes. They generally sped up enough that I couldn’t get past them only to slam on the brakes at the last minute and swerve in whichever direction I had decided to navigate the potholes on.

Otherwise things were relatively uneventful. I was sore and a bit tired of the attempts to kill me, but otherwise was faring decently. We stopped for a brief stretch break at the crossroads at Allada again, then headed back down the dirt road. At this point my main apprehension was the sheer nastiness of the bumps awaiting us. Then the goats struck.

Goats, when you think about them, don’t necessarily come across as nefarious or conniving, and there’s a reason for that: they aren’t. They’re simply, well… stupid. Cyle and some other guy were speeding on ahead down the road as we passed through a small village. The majority of a herd of about 15 goats crossed right behind them, which caused me to slow down as I approached. It was the stragglers that were the problem.

They looked hesitant, anxious even, and at just the right moment decided to bolt across the road with such perfect timing that I’m convinced they were suicidal, bribed to undo me, or both. I had already slowed some, and hit the brakes but could do little more than put the bike down. Hitting a fat goat and flipping my bike was bound to lead to greater injury. We slid to a halt and as I realized my leg was pinned under the bike, so did Kris.

It’s kind of difficult to lift a bike off of someone else when you’re still under it yourself, especially when it directly affects wounds you have yet to take inventory of, but I somehow managed to pick it up behind me long enough for her to crawl out. I wriggled my way free as well and went to check on her. She was in a bit of shock, processing what had just happened as best as she could, but thankfully she was alright.

I got up to check on my bike as two guys helped me pick it up. The only injury that it suffered was that the light had been shattered on the ground. By this point I’m thinking I’m not meant to have a light on my bike. It just isn’t in the proverbial cards.

We got back on the road only to have a herd of cows try to take us out a few kilometers later. Not joking, a giant cow got out of formation on the road and charged us for a moment before the guy herding them started hooping and hollering at it.

I didn’t bother checking my injuries. My pant leg was torn and my arm was on fire but all I could think about was making the last 80km south before night fell again.

We got back to Ouida and found our way to the Gate of No Return on the coast – the point at which people sold into slavery were considered beyond hope. The beach road that led to it wound up being more beach than road, and I put the bike down again. Kris hopped off and was fine, but in my haste to check on her I put my foot down too close to the engine and burned my ankle.

It was not a fun moment. We decided to find a taxi for the girls when we discovered that the hotel we were headed to wasn’ t 5km down this beach they called a road but 12km. Thankfully the taxi driver that we managed to find (through two local motorcycle taxi drivers) was greedy and he asked for the equivalent of $40 to drive us down the road.

The reason I say thankfully is twofold. One is that driving in sand sucks, and though by the end of the night I was closing in on competency it was incredibly stressful. After 3km in utter darkness we decided to turn back simply because of how difficult the trip was turning out to be, and because we would have to do it all again the next day. The second reason I’m thankful for the taxi driver’s greed is that in order to get to the hotel we were going to  have to take a boat that stopped running at dusk. We didn’t know that until after returning to the ship, however. We would have spent another hour or so getting there only to have to turn back anyways.

Thankfully there was a hotel near the Gate, and we crashed there for the night. Cyle managed to burn himself as well when he put his bike down in the sand, one of which was so bad that he couldn’t actually feel it. We got two little bungalows near the beach, and after a painfully long check-in process had a chance to lick our wounds.

And by lick I mean place in the scorching pain of cold running water. I had road rash on my right arm and knee, which had been eclipsed by the pain of the burn on my ankle, which had instantly blistered. The running water, however, felt great on the burn which I promptly forgot about in the flare of torture that erupted along my limbs. I forgot my burn so well in that moment that I accidentally rubbed the skin right off of it. I told Cyle not to worry about his burns, that mine felt great in the shower.

I didn’t realize that was solely because of my other wounds. I went off to try and find some first aid (no, we didn’t have any with us – yes, we realize we are idiots). Thankfully there was a massive group of Belgian high school students at the resort with a handful of teachers and, as we all know, teachers are not idiots. They had burn cream and said they would bring it to us. I went back to my bungalow to find that Cyle had passed out from pain in the shower. Apparently his burns hurt plenty without the distraction of any cuts.

I monitored him as I waited for the Belgian teachers to show up, and when they did Cyle bandaged up his legs. I took the opportunity to show them my own wounds, and after they stopped gasping at me I asked if they had anything that I could use to clean them out. They did. I don’t know what it was exactly, though Isopropyl made up something like 10% of it. I refer to it now as liquid fire. It was like someone invented molten hydrogen-peroxide and poured it on my arm.

After assisting Cyle to dinner, so he didn’t pass out and fall over, we had a great evening. We watched a storm come in (which actually sent me into shock when the temperature dropped suddenly – I hope my mom doesn’t read this…) and had a decent night’s sleep.

The next day we ate breakfast, packed up, bandaged ourselves with napkins, and rode our bikes back to Lome without any further incidents. Except for the fact that we hadn’t gotten visas to enter Benin. When we had entered the country for free it turned out that it was free because we hadn’t actually gotten visas. We had exit stamps from Togo. Those are very different things. Normally they arrest people for that, cart them to Cotonou (hours away) and charge them fines out the ying-yang for their belated entry visa. Thankfully they didn’t do that to us.

We got back to the ship, called the duty nurse, scrubbed our wounds with surgery scrub brushes (which hurt a lot as well), and resumed life as usual. Except that I found out that I got scheduled to work nights starting the next day. 6 day work week here I come!

Oh yeah, don’t worry: the goats were fine.

So as you may have heard by now, we held our national medical screening this week here in Lome, Togo. These screenings are usually done only once per field service, and are where we hope to fill our surgical schedules for the time spent in each country. In this screening we were looking for cleft lips and pallets, facial tumors, burn contractures, and noma along with some general surgeries.

I was selected to be a team leader for the overnight advance security team. We left the ship at 2PM on the 31st and stayed overnight to ensure that things got started on the right foot the next day. I didn’t leave the stadium until about 9:30am the following morning.

For those of you on my newsletter, none of this is a surprise, and thank you for your prayers. We had such a successful night that the following day was boring for the main body of the security team. That’s about as good of a mark of success as you can hope to hit.

My French was a good help in liaising with the police we had on site. They actually showed up the night before, and even though they didn’t fulfill many other promises they were much more helpful than our previous experience in Sierra Leone. We only had about 170 potential patients show up the day before, which is a major contrast to the roughly 800 we had at our second screening in Freetown. We were a bit worried that night that we wouldn’t have enough show up to fill our schedules, but by 4am they started to trickle in and by 5am we were over 1,000 people. All in all we had nearly 4,000 people show up.

That number would be larger if the ship hadn’t just been here in 2010. The line we had stretched far beyond the stadium and into an adjacent field. In the end it was delightfully uneventful, allowing our Security Officer, the other team leader, and I to pack up and leave. We chalked it up to our inflated sense of self-importance, but we didn’t want to leave before we were sure things were going to go smoothly. Having experienced the events at the first screening day in Freetown, Peter and I in particular didn’t want to move on before we knew everything would be alright.

But of course, everything was perfectly fine. God has been good, and we can’t wait to see how the surgeries here in Togo go!

I never got this posted in December as originally planned. We’ll blame sailing and movie theaters in Accra. But now it’s time for some followup on the beards. Some of the guys left without getting their final photos taken, others didn’t even make it to the end of the month without shaving. These are the few who did, along with some photos of the craziness that happened post-Movember.

Murray Crawford

 Marty Schwebel

Josh Young

Ezra Hong

Sethelroy

Jeff Locke

Rachel Jones

Me – and Marty (because I aspire to his beard-growing abilities)

And now for some other… things

Supposedly there are photos of Rob McLeod floating around, and I could have sworn I had one of Dan before he copped out early. If I find them I’ll be sure to add them. In any case, I hope you’ve enjoyed our experiments and foray into the wonderful world of facial hair.

We’ve just arrived in Lome, Togo two days ago. We are about to begin setting up for our next field service, which will last the next 6 months. I haven’t blogged in over a month now as I’ve been pretty consumed with the sail down from Freetown and trying to get a little R&R during our stop in Ghana.

I thought this would be a good time to review what we accomplished this last year in Freetown. The following are photos and statistics taken from the presentations we made to the government officials and our partners in Sierra Leone. It’s by no means an exhaustive list, but you’ll get a good idea of what we accomplished in the last year with the help of our partners in Freetown and around the world.

MERCY SHIPS

SIERRA LEONE 2011

Ophthalmic Surgeries & Training
1,242 Cataract Surgeries
179 Pterygium Surgeries
8,502 Eye Evaluations
Trained 22 Sierra Leoneans

Maxillofacial Surgeries & Training
111 Cleft Lip & Palate Surgeries
516 Maxillofacial Surgeries – Head & Neck Tumors
Training for Chief Dental Officer

Cleft lip and palate before:

After:

Facial tumor patient before surgery:

After:

A facial tumor patient before surgery on the AFM:

After:

Plastic Reconstructive Surgeries
159 Released Burn Contractures, Combined Fingers (Syndactyly) & Other Procedures
1,211 Occupational Therapy Services

A burn contracture victim before surgery:

Range of motion returns after her burn contracture is released:

Another victim of burns is unable to use their hand:

After the burn contracture is released the hand regains its ability to function:

General Surgeries
728 Surgeries including:
Hernia & Hydrocele Repairs
Tumor/Lesion/Lipoma Excision

Orthopaedic Surgeries & Training
185 Surgeries including:
Club Foot Corrections
Tendon Lengthening
Osteotomy

After surgery he’s able to stand on straight legs:

This guy had an amazing attitude despite his health, I got to visit him in physical therapy a few times. He came to us relying on his staff to stand upright:

After surgery, his life has changed forever:

1,742 Physical Therapy Services
Trained 3 in the Operating Room
Trained 40 Sierra Leonean Health Care Workers in Ponseti
Ponseti Casting – 103 Corrections for 66 Patients
84 Braces Fabricated

HOPE Center (Hospital Out Patient Extension)
10,495 Patient Bed Nights over 35 weeks
67 Community Health Education Sessions

Dental Clinic & Training
34,251 Procedures
10,489 Patient Encounters
933 Dental Hygiene Patients
531 Dentures
Oral Health Education 8,984 Patients & 1,025 Students
Dental Practicum – 4 weeks

Mental Health
Trained 16 Staff from City of Rest
Trained 163 Primary Health Care Workers
Trained 68 Church Leaders
Conducted Children’s Camp for 30
More Training Scheduled for February & March 2012

Palliative Care
Provided Homecare for 26 Terminally Ill
Trained 26 & Assisted Families in Wound Care
5 Income Generation Projects

Burkitt’s Lymphoma
13 Patients in Partnership with Ola During Children’s Hospital

Church Leaders’ Conferences
Facilitated training for 580 church leaders in Freetown, Bo & Makeni
In partnership with Samaritan’s Strategy & Community Health Evangelism (CHE)

Anesthesiology Conference & Midwifery Conference
79 Anesthesiology Conference Participants
28 Midwifery Conference Participants

Agriculture Program

Holistic Agriculture Concepts
4 Organizations
Trained 16 to be Trainers
Trainers Continue to Train Others

Mercy Ministries
Crew Visited 10 Sites Working with National Partners

Donations
Modular Buildings
Medical Supplies/Equipment
Pharmaceutical Supplies
Computers
Well Drilling Equipment
School Supplies

Thank you for hosting us, Sierra Leone! We’ll miss you!