What is Good...

I had a wonderful birthday today. After getting up at 6 and taking a jog on the airstrip, I had a bucket shower, then headed for devotions. To my surprise, the screened-in cafeteria had been transformed into a breakfast party, complete with streamers and balloons! We celebrated Amy’s and my birthday with pancakes dressed with strawberries and/or Nutella. After cleaning dishes, we dispersed to our respective jobs, some with the water project, some maintenance, some teaching health students, and the nurses to the clinic. I spent my 7-hour day diagnosing, studying, and working with the Mabaan community health workers (CHWs) at the clinic. There were many good things today; one highlight was untangling a difficult diagnosis and giving the suffering man antibiotics to fight an H. pylori infection. The other highlight was playing with little Doman who had been discharged from the Nutrition village. The toddler was grinning and running in the clinic as his parents consulted with a CHW. How wonderful to see him healthy and happy!

The small villages of Tukuls gathered along the path to the compound were busy with activity as usual this afternoon. Mabaan men, women, and children were cooking, patching walls, herding, planting and playing. They called out greetings or stopped to chat. Afternoon sunlight bathed the world in golden light; the red dirt path appeared bright against the dense green foliage. Although spectacular, the people who live here are what give this land its beauty.

A DC-3 landed on our red dirt airstrip today. The huge plane brought Dr Rob (my uncle), and my cousin Tim, a team from Scotland, and several tons of building supplies. Several of the nurses left on the flight for rest-time in Nairobi. It seems like a holiday here when a plane arrives, because it brings people, yummy foods that we can’t get here (chocolate), and letters from home. Additionally, the local people stop their work and line the runway to watch the gigantic metal bird lift off the ground to disappear into the horizon.

Four of us nurse gals traveled to Boonje in the afternoon. The Arabic market town is only 3 km from Doro, and the open-air booths offer fresh produce, clothing, and an unpredictable conglomeration of other supplies from Khartoum. We stopped for Coca-Cola in the shade of a bamboo stall, chatted with Mabaan and Arabic friends, bought nail-polish for the moms in the nutrition village (a fun way to connect with the ladies), and selected vegetables for dinner.

We had a large outdoor pot-luck tonight with the new team-members. Although the day was a steamy 100-degrees, the evening cooled off with thunder clouds in the distance. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the huge baobab tree; wind brought down the humidity with the temperature. We sat outside at a long table and enjoyed a refreshing time of fellowship and delicious food.

After reading the devotion from “Jesus Calling” this morning, the verse Micah 6:8 was filling my thoughts all day; “He has shown you, oh man, what is good and what the Lord requires of you. But to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.” He has shown me what He has created me to do; His faithfulness never ceases! Indeed, it is more evident with every passing year.

Living Water

This afternoon, I sat with a group of Mabaan ladies under a tree at the nutrition village. Amy, another SIM nurse, was leading a Bible study with the people who live at "Ban Keeyin" as their children gain nourishment. I considered the story of the Samaritan woman as our interpreter read from John 4. The Samaritan, like so many of the Mabaan, had lived a difficult life. But when she met Jesus, the Son of God, on her way to draw water, her life was changed. Instead of getting a simple drink that can only temporarily quench thirst, she received living water. Jesus sacrificed His perfect life so that all people can live forever if they accept Him. As I care for patient’s physical health at the clinic, I need to keep foremost the need for spiritual life, for living water.

Mary, the child I held on my lap, was paralyzed with tuberculosis of the spine. Her mother, Sadiah, had been near death last week, but revived with IV fluids and medications. The tall Sudanese woman had been only 32kg, but she has gained 12kg since and is caring for her children again. They need meds to treat TB, but mostly, they need the Lord Jesus. During the Bible study, Mary rubbed my hand. She was looking to see if the white came off.

I watched the ladies’ faces as they listened to the truth of Jesus’ love for them. I thought about Una’s story, and how she recognized God’s saving love for her. Una came to the clinic last week with a severe bite to her hand. Dr Rob evaluated the hand and saw that the infection would kill Una if he didn’t amputate the finger. He only had one hour to perform the operation before his plane arrived to take him to Kenya. Una was given IV antibiotics, placed under sedation, and the surgery ensued. I monitored Una’s oxygen level and administered meds during the procedure. Nurse Amy assisted Dr Rob in removing the necrotic finger. Since the procedure, Una has been living at the clinic so her progress can be monitored. Her hand healed enough to be sutured, and she has been receiving daily dressing changes. We gave pain medications before yesterday’s dressing change, and we chatted while waiting for the analgesic to take effect. Una said, “Before the surgery, I knew that I might die, and I know that God cares for me because the doctor was there. I told God that I would trust Him with my life.”

Yesterday was very busy at the clinic; another nurse and I saw about 60 patients. We were at the clinic for about 12 hours and admitted two very sick children. One was a malnourished 6-mo old infant who only weighs 4 kg; his mother brought him to the clinic because he has always been sickly. It was a difficult day diagnosing the many conditions that the child suffers from. He was badly de-conditioned and had difficulty breathing, so we placed him on oxygen. After evaluating symptoms, we discovered that the infant has meningitis that may have resulted from badly infected eyes. The infection is so severe that his eyes are opaque with ulcers. He also has bowel disease due to receiving contaminated water. I was unable to find IV access, so I placed the feeding tube so he could get fluids. Today, his eye infection is clearing up and he is receiving strong antibiotics. His mother is so sweet; unlike the other long-term patients, she has no one to support her or help her care for the child. The other child is severely malnourished as well, but with fewer complications. I started IV fluids and he is strong enough now to drink a rehydrating formula.

In the midst of a busy day dispersing meds and performing tasks, it was a welcome rest to study God’s Word with the Mabaan ladies. The Samaritan woman, like Una, realized her need for Living Water. I needed the reminder to provide the opportunity for people to receive the Living Water, Spiritual Life in Jesus, rather than mere physical healing. Please pray for the families at the clinic who need the Lord Jesus so desperately. Thank you also for praying for me and the Doro team!

First Day in a New World

Writhing and screaming, the toddler recoiled in fear from the needle that the “khawaja” (white foreigner) held. He couldn’t know that the medication would relieve the pain radiating from the infection in his hand. He was too young to understand what would happen while the anesthetic was in effect. The child’s mother sat beside the procedure bed, her hands knotted in her lap. An interpreter conveyed to her that Dr Rob would make a cut to drain the pus, and I hoped my smile offered some reassurance. As the Ketamine took effect and the boy’s cries subsided, my mind drifted twenty-four hours earlier. Could it be that I had only been here for a day?

One-hundred degree heat enveloped me as I stepped off the plane onto the red dirt of Doro’s airstrip. A group of local people had gathered to witness the arrival of the aircraft; their broad smiles, hand-shakes, and evening greetings helped me feel like I was among old friends. SIM missionaries showed me around the compound that I would call home for the next six months. After an evening meal shared with everyone on the base, I settled into my tukul (hut with mud walls and grass roof) that I shared with another nurse. My first night in Doro was spent mostly awake; the lizards rustling the grass roof, the humidity, and the mosquito net all were new distractions. It was excitement, however, that made every sense electric; the excitement to finally be in Sudan.

May 28 dawned overcast with rumbles of thunder. The plane that had carried me from Nairobi left early that morning, and as I watched it angle South, I felt very small in an alien land. I wanted to get acquainted with the people and customs in this new world as soon as possible. A wise nurse instructed that “to truly know a people, one must speak their language”. Back at the compound, I pulled up a chair to Tabitha, a Mabaan lady who was making lunch, and asked her how to say things in the local language. Our laughter at my pronunciations brought some attention, and a missionary gave me a book on learning Mabaan. I was relieved to have a foundation for learning the language, and a new friend.

I joined my tukul-mate, Amy, for a visit to the nutrition village later in the morning. She had nine malnourished children living there with their mothers, and they remained in the village as long as they required care. Amy’s responsibility was to ensure the health of the children. She oversaw the diets, medications, and daily weights of the children. We communicated with the mothers and children with the aid of Community Health Workers, (Mabaan men who went through health education training). As we were evaluating a mother with twins, one of the kwashiorkor toddlers walked up to us and held up a pitcher for his milk. Doman’s swollen face and large brown eyes gave him the appearance of a Cabbage Patch Doll, and he was adorable.

After lunch on the compound, I was eager to see the clinic where I would be working. I followed the path there with the SIM nurses that ran the clinic: Amy, Sandy, and Christiane. We passed the church, the nutrition village, and groups of tukuls along the way. Pigs, goats, dogs, and chickens wandered as they pleased and grazed in the open spaces between palm plants and wide Baobab trees.

The clinic consisted of a one-room building with a door on each end; the room was divided into five examining areas with one procedure bed, or “Emergency Area”. The room was alive with activity. Community Health Workers (CHWs) were seeing patients in all the stations; the nurses oversaw the CHWs, diagnosed, evaluated treatments and administered medications. Dr Rob examined more critical cases and taught the staff about how to diagnose certain conditions. Meanwhile, a crowd of people rested in the shade of trees as they waited patiently to be called to the clinic. There were over a hundred Mabaan and Falatta people to be seen that day.

I listened, asked questions, and absorbed as much as possible. Observing the assessment and diagnosis process was facilitated by the Mabaan language-learning book and a manual on tropical disease. One family in particular touched my heart. Sahdia was a skeleton curled up in one of the examining stations; she was too weak to lift her head or speak. Her malnourished daughter, Mary, sat listlessly beside her. Sahdia’s sister had journeyed to their village and brought them ten miles to the clinic. Sahdia was ill likely with tuberculosis, so she had seen the village witch doctor, Yaya. Yaya told her patients not to eat, so the emaciated people eventually came to the clinic with complications. Sahdia and her daughter were admitted to the nutrition village as inpatients for care. I reminded myself to check on the pair’s progress in the morning as a commotion from the emergency area drew my attention.

Dr Rob was evaluating the toddler’s hand that had swollen with infection after being poked by a wire. I held the toddler still as he received an antibiotic injection, Tetanus Toxoid, and the Ketamine. The boy drifted to sleep swiftly and Dr Rob, my uncle, made a small incision in the palm. As the doctor explored the wound and drained the infection, he explained how to avoid cutting nerves. I was fascinated by the process, and so thankful that the clinic had a fresh supply of Tetanus prophylaxis, which was not usually available. The procedure was over in a few minutes and the boy awoke soon thereafter. With the child in his mother’s arms, the family was prayed with, and my prayer was that they would know the love of Jesus. The body only lasts for so long, but the spirit is forever.

What a joy nursing is, and how wonderful to care for people with no other opportunity for medicine. But what a tragedy it would be if that’s where the care stopped! The greatest joy of all is a relationship with Jesus, and I left my first day at the clinic determined to keep His saving love as my priority. A physical cure is temporary, but only Jesus saves the soul and gives eternal life.

Pictured is a brother of a child being treated at the nutrition village. After seeing the picture of himself, the little boy laughed and laughed.