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!

I arrived in Durban, South Africa on December 1st, 2010. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year already. Of course, a few months ago it was difficult to believe it hadn’t been a year already. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective. I’m going to do my best to review the year here, and a little more. Feel free to follow along as I do so. Or you can just scan the pretty pictures and click out (I chose over 100, I’ve tried to settle on 20). It’s up to you.

I’ll go with the greeting card format. This is basically how I summed up the year to my Grandma, in terms that she can both relate to and in language that I thought she would best appreciate. In the end this blog post will be a lot longer than the greeting card, but I’ve got more space to write here and my hands are less likely to cramp up.

In the last year (if you include a few weeks before a year ago and the coming few weeks) I’ve been in Texas, Louisiana, Haiti, Washington State, Idaho, Oregon, South Africa, Sierra Leone, France, Switzerland, Italy, Holland, and will travel to Ghana, and Togo. That’s ten countries and five states (if you don’t count the road trip from WA to TX). I’ve traveled by bus, train, ship, airplane, ferry, land rover, taxi, poda poda (rust-bucket half-buses), motorcycle taxi, tram, helicopter, metro, car, and canoe. I even got thrown off of deck 8 on the Africa Mercy and survived.

I’ve lived in the opposite hemisphere of my birth, traversed the equator by ship (thus transforming from a pollywog to a shellback), lived in Zulu country, swam in two oceans that I had never seen before (Atlantic and Indian), pierced someone’s ear, drew blood in a hospital, donated my own blood directly to two surgeries, assisted in oral surgery, trained for and joined a maritime fire team, DJed events in three countries, survived Freetown traffic for 10 months with ZERO accidents (massive accomplishment), and ran sound for the President of Sierra Leone. I met a member of the House of Lords, a UN General Secretary Special Appointee, a handful of random millionaires, and both a Miss Hawaii and a Miss Belgium.

I lived on a hospital ship, which is weird enough in itself, but with over 400 people from roughly 35 nations (depending on the week). That’s 400+ at a time; over 1,600 came through and left on a short-term commitment. I work on a daily basis with people from the UK, Switzerland, Germany, Holland, Benin, Canada, South Africa, and this mystical place called Colorado (just to name a few). I published my first book and finished writing my second. I’ve caught a pickpocket and just this week tried to chase down another thief in the port. Yesterday I witnessed about 150 police officers raid a slum to catch pot dealers and a cop killer. I’ve dragged an unconscious man out from under a pile of bodies and done advance overnight security for a major screening event. I was even in country for the cholera outbreak in Haiti. While I was there I managed to drive an ATV and an AMBULANCE.

I carry a pager. A real, honest to God, archaic, one-way pager. Well, when they can convince me to carry it I do. I even caulked computer monitors to desks to prepare for sailing.

I’ve learned how to hook up and align a satellite dish, how to terminate all sorts of random cables, how to say “no” in a dozen different ways to a dozen different things. I’ve learned how to drive stick, and I mean really LEARNED how to drive stick. I’ve learned that you can gain access to and climb just about anything you want with a smile and a nod; from lighting towers to abandoned Chinese buildings. I’ve learned that the asking price is usually about 150% what you should actually be paying. I’ve learned that it’s ok to eat street meat, but you should probably avoid pre-constructed cheeseburgers in glass cases on the corner. I got certified in First Aid. I’ve learned a lot through briefly dating a Swedish nurse and a South African optometrist (not at the same time, before you ask – I already know not to risk that). I learned that you only capitalize someone’s rank when used as their name and I learned about a million other things about the English language in the editing process. I even learned that XXX is the official emblem for Amsterdam – the irony of which had escaped my Dutch friends.

I helped my sister move to Portland and my parents move to Texas. They then sold my childhood home. I got to hang out with my dad in Haiti and Sierra Leone. I watched my sister persevere like a hero and make it on her own. My best friends have scattered thousands of miles apart. I haven’t taken my mom on a date in over a year, which makes me sad. I’ve discovered that true stability only comes from God, the great Unchanging One. I’ve learned that money won’t make you happy, and that in any case I have more than most. I’ve fallen in love and been subsequently crushed. I’ve said literally hundreds of goodbyes to awesome people that stole small chunks of my heart in parting.

I have never met so many people who were so much more wealthy or so much more poor than I am, let alone live next door to them.

I have discovered so much about the world. The primary thing being that I know hardly anything about it.

I’ve found that if I were to pursue medicine, I would want to become a paramedic so I could deal effectively with trauma and save lives in the field. I’ve figured that if I can make it as an author I want to move back to France to really focus on it someday in the future. I’ve discovered that God can and does provide. I have wanted for nothing. I’m not rich, but I’m not poor, and I have no concerns so long as I trust in Jesus. Worries are the faulty construct of my inability to see beyond myself.

I had a caddy and broke 100 for the first time I can remember. Though having a caddy was awkward, my improvement in score is largely due to him. How many people have played golf with their dad in Freetown? According to our caddies, it was weird that a father would want to spend time with his son. My dad is pretty great on an international scale.

I’ve thrown up out the window while driving a manual Land Rover with a migraine in stop-and-go traffic without missing a beat. I’ve slept in the mansion of some mysterious family in South Africa I never even met. I got attacked by a monkey who, when he couldn’t get at me, mooned me instead. I’ve pulled someone’s tooth and I’ve officially been the ship’s executive body guard (and caught a lot of flack for it in the process). I was even a voice actor in Florence for an audio series of English language lessons.

I’ve lived in three different cabins on the ship, been offered a handful of random jobs including a management position, and observed every kind of surgery from hernia repair to maxillofacial. I have a signed, laminated, limited edition photo of the one and only Dr. Gary Parker. I caught our forklift driving off the dock on film and got punched in the neck by Tony Blair. That last part about Blair wasn’t true but I just wanted to see if you were still paying attention. One of our galley teams did get to meet him here in Freetown though. And Princess Anne even visited the ship.

Needless to say, it’s been a crazy year. And I’ve got another one on the way. From here (Freetown, Sierra Leone) we sail to Ghana for a few weeks and then to Lome, Togo. From Togo we’ll head to the Canary Islands for a much needed dry dock in June. Then we head to Guinea for another 10-month field service. I’m hoping to release my second book early next year and praying that I’ll be able to make a trip home to see everyone there.

Who knows where else I’ll end up, who I’ll meet, what I’ll ride to get there, or what random illnesses I’ll acquire in the process. All I know is that I’m ready for it to come. I’m grateful for the friends I’ve made. For the experiences I’ve had. And for the lessons learned. I’m entering my second year with Mercy Ships with open hands. I expect great things.

We’re finally coming to the end of our time in Freetown. Eye screenings are done, as are all surgeries. And this week brought the dental clinic to a close as well. I joined the dental team on Monday to help with security at the last screening. People understandably get aggravated as we begin to wind down. The need greatly outweighs what we can accomidate in a year. And unlike many of the major surgeries we do, dental work is never-ending.

This screening wasn’t exceptionally large, but you can see just how many people need help when they’re lined up like this. It can be overwhelming to think about. But it provides some awesome opportunities to talk and pray with people as they wait to be seen by the dental team. Unfortunately we can only take the worst cases from the crowd, and there are some pretty rough ones.

My friend Gini runs the show and has been after me to come out and visit all year. Of course, I waited until the very last possible opportunity and came on their last day of operation on Thursday. I knew I should have come out sooner, and I was right. Why I don’t listen to myself when I’m right could be the subject of another blog post altogether.

You’d rarely think of dental work as life-saving back home, but here it really is. People come in with the most advanced infections many of our dentists have ever seen. I asked Ali (the English dentist I shadowed on Thursday) how things compare, if he sees as much infection in the UK as he does here. He said that he sees more puss in a day here than in a year at home. And it’s easy to believe after following him around for a morning.

For the most part we just pulled teeth. There’s not much more you can do for 200 people per week. But as Ali put it, we’re replacing rotton, painful, non-functioning teeth with non-functioning gums.

I got to assist on most of his work for the morning, and learned a lot. I’ve never run suction for oral surgery before, nor had I aided in suturing or pulled a tooth (pictured below – I bet you can’t guess which one I pulled). One lady came in who I got no photos of because I was quite literally too busy helping to do so. She had a massive infection in her jaw that had caused it to clamp nearly shut. You should be able to get three fingers in your mouth when your jaw is healthy. She couldn’t get one in.

It took about 20 minutes with two different wedges to loosen the muscles up enough to open her mouth. As Ali went in to see if he could release some pressure and get the puss to drain, we were told she was 6 months pregnant. From the perspective of my limited medical experience it was fascinating to watch and help as he pulled teeth and worked his way down into the jaw bone to seek out the infection. From a personal standpoint it was really, really heavy to watch as we essentially found ourselves unable to effectively help her as we wanted. The swelling never drained, and Ali was forced to leave tubes in her jaw to try and drain it over the coming week. Thankfully there’s a clinic just outside of town she can follow up with.

The danger is that the infection will get into her bloodstream, and things will go south quickly from there. What I think may be the most difficult part is when we admit people, can help them, and in the end they refuse our help. That happened with one lady who stopped Ali mid-pull. And it’s a bit shaking to think she has a chance of ending up like the other lady with the massive infection. But it’s her right to refuse the help.

What impacted me the most from the day was simply being with the patients as they underwent their procedures. It was an incredible educational experience following a dentist like Ali around and listening to him explain every little thing to me. But holding the hands of patients who had never been to a dentist before and trying to comfort them in the midst of it all stuck with me the most. It’s an incredible amount of trust that’s place in our dental team, and an overwhelming need that the they face. But it’s the individual that matters, and the fact that we can affect some change really does mean something at the end of the day.

My parents definitely rank at the top of the many blessings God has given me. If you know them you’re aware of how amazing they are, and if you don’t know them… I pity you. What’s more, I have the rare privilege of having my dad visit me a few times a year in Africa as part of his job. He works with Mercy Ships training long-term staff in the Gateway program, and then brings them to the ship through a two to three week field service in country.

Growing up I don’t think I ever fully appreciated how much my dad did for me. I probably still don’t (sorry dad), but ever since I left home there’s been a dad-shaped hole in my life. I’m really really glad that even though I’ve moved half-way around the world I still get to see him from time to time.

We got to spend some good time together in the field too. He was building a school out near Yam’s Farm with his Gateway class, and I accompanied the Eye Team out there to do a screening. We also left the city to visit one of the agricultural school’s sites.

I miss our regular times together studying scripture and talking about life. My dad is one of those wise people who gently sets you straight before you realize you were wandering in the first place. While he was here we had some good time together. It was fun to visit Yam’s Farm, the Tacugama Chimpanzee Reserve and the play the national golf course together. Granted I had a migraine driving the land rover back and threw up in the middle of traffic. But that’s half of the… fun… right?

In any case, not only do I get to experience a bit of the madness of life in Africa but I get to share some of those experiences with my dad.

I really do have a lot when you think about it. Especially with a family like mine. The world may not think I’ve got much, but I’m pretty happy with it. And I’m truly grateful for the time I got with my dad while he was here. Until February!

I’m losing yet another friend from the ship this week. It’s not an uncommon experience, but the truly good ones only go every once in a while. And it sucks, regardless of the circumstances.

But the emotions and experience surrounding friends leaving the ship are very similar to those surrounding a death. The gravity isn’t entirely the same, but there’s always a feeling, if not only a fear, that you’ll never be reconnected. Especially when a friend has to leave suddenly.

I went through a bit of a whirlwind of emotion today following the news that one of my best friends here is leaving within days. I started out pretty solid, much the way that I did when I found out my grandfather was dying a year ago. I didn’t really feel much beyond the certainty that this was right in the natural order of things. But given the chance to dwell on it, and the following implications, my emotions moved in pretty quickly.

I won’t go on and on about it. It’s still very surreal and I don’t think I need to/can truly put everything into writing. But friends are important, and the ones you really click with can be so rare. This changes the next six months of my life pretty significantly, and it blows. I think it will be best for them in the end, but selfishly I’m not as satisfied with that response as I was when the news first broke.

Like a death this is going to take time to mourn. Like a wake, we sat around tonight reminiscing and laughing to break the sadness. But unlike any funeral, thankfully, this won’t be goodbye. And hopefully, just hopefully, there will be a “Hey friend!” over some fantastic Mexican food in the not-too-distant future.

I’m gonna miss you Friend. Thanks for making Sierra Leone so much better than it could have otherwise been.

It’s time for No Shave November to go into effect, and a number of the guys around the ship are kicking it into gear. These are the before pictures, starting with yours truly. We’ll do a roundup half-way through (possibly) and one at the end (certainly) plus a round of photos highlighting what ridiculousness results from the first shave of the fresh canvas (most definitely). I hope this gets you excited for beards!

Jay Swanson

Rob McLeod

Dan Bergman

Justin Grant

Marty Schwebel

Jeff Locke

Ezra Hong

Josh Young

Rachel Jones

HEAD START (a.k.a. The Cheaters)

Cyle Davenport

Jeff Howard

Sethelroy

This could possibly be the most amazing month of all time. We’re only one person short of making a calendar.

EDIT: Josh Young picked up the challenge – we’re at a full dozen.

So among the top requests were more patient stories. These are covered and created by our delightful marketing team on the ship, so they deserve full credit (their names at the bottom of the post). I’ll leave their story to you, I hope you enjoy it!

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It was a long, traumatic labor. But, when Abu was born, his delicate frame seemed perfect. His miniature features complemented his dark, curious eyes. Unfortunately, as he grew, a physical deformity became obvious. His legs bent backward in the same way as a chicken’s legs. This was caused by dislocated knees and tight muscles, which prevented the knee bending forward or straightening. This condition usually occurs during a breech birth.

His mother, Fatmata, fell into a deep depression when she realized Abu had a deformity. To make matters worse, the neighbors tormented her. They believed Abu was a “devil child.” They also concluded that Fatmata could not be human if she gave birth to such a creature. When the verbal abuse became overwhelming, she was tempted to throw the baby in the dustbin. Yet, she felt a deep maternal love stirring inside her. So, she hid the baby inside the house and tried to regain acceptance in the neighborhood. Her plan worked because her neighbors assumed the child was dead. Sadly, Fatmata also suffered daily floggings from Abu’s father. The neighbors often tried to stop the beatings, but their intervention only served to fuel his anger. Fatmata became anxious that he would turn against Abu because of the child’s deformed legs.

Then the situation worsened when the neighbors discovered the baby was still alive. From that moment onward, Fatmata was shunned by everyone except her mother. One day, Fatmata was busy with the normal task of scrubbing the laundry in the yard when she heard a radio jingle that changed her life. It announced a Mercy Ships medical assessment day. On the day of the event, she wrapped Abu to her back and went to meet the doctors. Abu was accepted for treatment – a decision that would change their lives forever. Abu was eight months old when he arrived at the ship. With a perfectly formed petite body, he perched like a sparrow on the back of his lower legs while observing the nurses with curious, soulful eyes. His condition made it impossible for him to sit on his bottom. After being hidden in the house for so long, it was a frightening experience to be in a strange environment with many people. His tears flowed all day, and he responded only to his mother’s endearing nickname for him – “BuBu.”

At the hospital, Abu had a successful surgery to allow his knees to bend forward. The onboard hospital was a safe haven for the little boy and his mother. It provided a welcome respite from their daily worries and torments.

Prior to visiting the Mercy Ships hospital, Abu had interacted only with his mother and grandmother. This limited social exposure had produced a very solemn, introverted nature. However, Mercy Ships physiotherapists wrapped him in loving kindness and encouraged his smiles by tickling his feet as they examined his legs. Well-fed, nurtured, and rested from peaceful slumber, Abu grew in height. His constant, worried expression began to relax. Happiness was seeping into his life. Fatmata noticed a huge difference in her son, saying, “Before he was very dull. There is lots of change. After the operation, now he can move and explore places.”

Soon it was time to return home. Abu went to live with his mother at his grandmother’s house, which was next-door to the father. The floggings stopped. The torments calmed. Daily life transformed into happiness. An even closer bond formed between Fatmata and “BuBu.”

Abu and his mother regularly attended the clinic for dressing changes. This was necessary in case Abu scratched his surgical scars, opening the wound. Soon, Abu was ready for a series of leg casts to correctly position and strengthen his legs.

When Fatmata first returned home with Abu, with his newly straightened legs in casts, the neighborhood people felt ashamed for taunting them for so long. They realized Abu was not a “devil child.” Amazingly, Fatmata and Abu were accepted back into the community. As time went by, Abu received regular leg cast changes. He became frustrated by toppling over during numerous daily attempts to sit up with his corrected legs and posture. There were frequent visits to the ship to monitor and assess his progress to straighten his legs.  With every visit, his confidence grew, supported by his relationship with the physiotherapy team. One team member in particular, Joseph, had the special touch to calm the little boy’s quivering cries when he was tired. Also, physiotherapist Jana worked her magic to evoke smiles during the challenging leg exercise sessions. Under the kind care of Mercy Ships, Abu developed by leaps and bounds. For instance, his appetite increased, so Fatmata excitedly introduced porridge into his diet and delighted in his interest to suck on pieces of mango. He also formed a new friendship with the neighbor’s baby girl, Yeama. This encouraged Abu to learn how to sit up straight and try to reach toys outside his grasp. His adoration for Yeama was clear as he often threw his arms around her, chuckling with excitement.

After five months of treatment, Abu could finally sit up, crawl, and start to stand up while holding onto a chair. His first birthday was a wonderful celebration because he now had a bright life ahead. With his straight legs he would be able to run and play football with the other children. His delighted mother said, “Thanks to God, I appreciate Mercy Ships work from my heart. Now the people who provoked my child are ashamed and give me help. Abu will become a president or a doctor because he is healthier and happier now.”

Story by Claire Ross

Edited by Nancy Predaina

Photos by Debra Bell and Liz Cantu