One of my IB2 students, in her graduating year, is quite sick and will need to take the year off. It's tough, but she will get stronger and come back next year and do very well. She's bright and a very promising student.
Over the past weeks I've made a couple of trips to visit her, taking a couple of students along each time.
Earlier this week another of my IB students came to me…
“Some of the guys are thinking of going to visit Cec…”
“That’s a great idea. How are you thinking of getting there? Taxi?”
“We were thinking of the school mini-bus…”
“Hmmm…How many guys want to go?”
“Here’s a list. (10 names!) Mrs. Fath, could you ask Mr. Philip if we could use the bus?”
“Hmmm…and who will drive?”
“We were thinking you might, Mrs. Fath.” (Do they know me well, or what? ;-)
“Okay. I could do that. Have you checked with Cc’s mom; that’s a lot of you to come all at once? It might be a bit too many…”
So, I tried phoning Cc’s mom and could get no answer, but the guys did not give up. They got in touch with her, but by the time they did, it was too late to get the mini-bus, so four guys piled into my car and the other six went by taxi. We decided to see who would get there first and since I’m such a SLOW driver, bets were NOT on me!
It’s always fun driving with my students along. I love to tease them and enjoy their laughter. Today the guy in charge of the whole plan sat in the passenger seat across from me and was giggling away in anticipation.
“Eeish, you sound like a girl when you giggle!” He does! Deep, rich baritone when he talks, but when he laughs! Ah!
Then there was Pitso in the back whistling…”How DO you do that?” What talent, I say ;-)
Getting there, piling into Cc’s room, seeing her lovely smiles, and watching her and the guys just sitting around and chatting, chatting, chatting—the whole thing in Sesotho, of course! It was great. I was just basking in this act of kindness, concern and love that they would show for their classmate. It makes me realize what compassionate people they are, that they understand how hard it will be for her to be missing school.
I love my students ;-)
Friday, 26 September 2008
Sunday, 21 September 2008
24 Hours - Life is Full
6:00 a.m. Up early on a Saturday. Today it is traveling out into the mountains, taking 10 of Wendy’ students on a hike. Mine is the back-up role, help route find and just another adult along in the event something unexpected comes up. Though on this trip we have the two nurses from Beautiful Gate also along, so any medical emergencies should be well covered.
7:30 a.m. Sort out with Wendy some final traveling logistics. Have breakfast and get lunches packed. Then sort out some details to see our friend from next door off to a medical appointment.
8:00 a.m. We make a quick trip over to the school. Wendy also has two of her students over for the weekend—a couple of days away from the boarding school to focus on some of their school projects. This morning it is off to the school to pick up some additional resources for them.
9:00 a.m. The school van is in less than ready to go, so the departure is delayed, but finally at 9:30 we are off. Wendy, driving the school van with her students, and me following in our car. The weather is threatening. Will it rain?
10:45 a.m. We arrive at the starting point of the trail. Oooh, it is cold in the mountains. By 11:00 we are on the trail. The weather was still threatening and we leave in some light showers.
11:30 The first part of the trail is a sustained steep climb up to a ridge. We have all made it to the top where we find ourselves on the edge of a SNOW squall. Down in the valley we had recently driven through and on a nearby ridge there was a light dusting of snow. To the east the peaks are also dusted in snow.
Snow dusting on the valley below and ridge opposite.
The peaks to the east.
11:40 The sun came out as we walked along the ridge and we had a beautiful hike, with mist rising from and warming earth.
Meandering in the mist.
The string of hikers approaching the summit ridge.
12:00 noon: For the first hike Wendy prudently chose a short one, and by noon the first guys made the summit and we were all up within 10 minutes of them. We spent an hour there, had some snacks, the students visited, and we took pictures. It was a perfect first hike; everyone made it comfortably. About 1:00 the weather started to close in, and a cool wind came up so we headed back down.
2:10 Back at the vehicles. Visiting between the students and local children who showed up to see who it was that was hiking on the mountain. Then load up and on the road. We were back in Maseru before 4:00.
4:30 We are back home. The students at home have been working. It is a cool day. Wendy asks for a fire, so get that started and soon the living room is toasty warm.
7:00 I had a planned trip out to Beautiful Gate to visit with the night shift bo-‘m’e, so off I went. I always find it rewarding to once a month visit the night shift staff. The children are most always sleeping, and it is a time for visiting with staff I have not seen for a while. They are on night shift for a full month before reverting back to day shift for a month.
8:15 Back home. And spend some time chatting via Internet before heading off to bed shortly after 9:00
10:20 The phone rings. It is a friend. Her sister, expecting her first child, is in labour and needs a ride to the hospital. Off I go.
11:00 Sitting at the hospital. The sister is in the examination room. Wendy and Sarah, one of the Beautiful Gate nurses who is also a mid-wife, are on their way. I watch the mice running about, under beds, down the halls, and slipping in and out under doors.
11:45 Wendy and Sarah arrive. The examination results indicate that the sister is dilated 6 cms. Sarah, who volunteers one day a week at the hospital as a mid-wife, had previously obtained permission for Wendy to be present for the birth
12:05 a.m. Family cannot be present for the birth, so I drive our friend back to her home. Wendy ramains with Sarah at the hospital.
12:25 I arrive back home. One of Wendy’s students is still up, working on her extended essay. She had asked Wendy to be her supervisor for the extended essay, and Wendy had given her an ultimatum to have her first draft ready by the end of the weekend or Wendy would ‘dump her’. Most students had completed most of their work on this project during their winter vacation, but this student was just starting.
12:55 I receive a text message from Wendy. At 12:30, a healthy little girl was born. The delivery was almost perfect, except for Wendy. But that is her story to tell.
1:35 Wendy arrives back home.
6:00 a.m. Is it morning already??
Sunday turned out to be just about as hectic a day. We had invited Thabiso's family over. But after church we decided to visit the hospital. We arrived just as our friend's sister and her baby were about to be discharged. It was 1:00 p.m. By about 1:45 all the paper work was done. Less than 13 1/2 hours after delivering her baby, we were driving mom and baby to their home.
Baby Bohlokoa - aged 13 1/2 hrs.
That was time not anticipated in our planning for the day so the rest of the day was pretty hectic, but at the end of it all we both said, "Life is full. But it is also rich. We are so blessed."
~ Benno ~
7:30 a.m. Sort out with Wendy some final traveling logistics. Have breakfast and get lunches packed. Then sort out some details to see our friend from next door off to a medical appointment.
8:00 a.m. We make a quick trip over to the school. Wendy also has two of her students over for the weekend—a couple of days away from the boarding school to focus on some of their school projects. This morning it is off to the school to pick up some additional resources for them.
9:00 a.m. The school van is in less than ready to go, so the departure is delayed, but finally at 9:30 we are off. Wendy, driving the school van with her students, and me following in our car. The weather is threatening. Will it rain?
10:45 a.m. We arrive at the starting point of the trail. Oooh, it is cold in the mountains. By 11:00 we are on the trail. The weather was still threatening and we leave in some light showers.
11:30 The first part of the trail is a sustained steep climb up to a ridge. We have all made it to the top where we find ourselves on the edge of a SNOW squall. Down in the valley we had recently driven through and on a nearby ridge there was a light dusting of snow. To the east the peaks are also dusted in snow.
Snow dusting on the valley below and ridge opposite.
The peaks to the east.
Meandering in the mist.
The string of hikers approaching the summit ridge.2:10 Back at the vehicles. Visiting between the students and local children who showed up to see who it was that was hiking on the mountain. Then load up and on the road. We were back in Maseru before 4:00.
4:30 We are back home. The students at home have been working. It is a cool day. Wendy asks for a fire, so get that started and soon the living room is toasty warm.
7:00 I had a planned trip out to Beautiful Gate to visit with the night shift bo-‘m’e, so off I went. I always find it rewarding to once a month visit the night shift staff. The children are most always sleeping, and it is a time for visiting with staff I have not seen for a while. They are on night shift for a full month before reverting back to day shift for a month.
8:15 Back home. And spend some time chatting via Internet before heading off to bed shortly after 9:00
10:20 The phone rings. It is a friend. Her sister, expecting her first child, is in labour and needs a ride to the hospital. Off I go.
11:00 Sitting at the hospital. The sister is in the examination room. Wendy and Sarah, one of the Beautiful Gate nurses who is also a mid-wife, are on their way. I watch the mice running about, under beds, down the halls, and slipping in and out under doors.
11:45 Wendy and Sarah arrive. The examination results indicate that the sister is dilated 6 cms. Sarah, who volunteers one day a week at the hospital as a mid-wife, had previously obtained permission for Wendy to be present for the birth
12:05 a.m. Family cannot be present for the birth, so I drive our friend back to her home. Wendy ramains with Sarah at the hospital.
12:25 I arrive back home. One of Wendy’s students is still up, working on her extended essay. She had asked Wendy to be her supervisor for the extended essay, and Wendy had given her an ultimatum to have her first draft ready by the end of the weekend or Wendy would ‘dump her’. Most students had completed most of their work on this project during their winter vacation, but this student was just starting.
12:55 I receive a text message from Wendy. At 12:30, a healthy little girl was born. The delivery was almost perfect, except for Wendy. But that is her story to tell.
6:00 a.m. Is it morning already??
Sunday turned out to be just about as hectic a day. We had invited Thabiso's family over. But after church we decided to visit the hospital. We arrived just as our friend's sister and her baby were about to be discharged. It was 1:00 p.m. By about 1:45 all the paper work was done. Less than 13 1/2 hours after delivering her baby, we were driving mom and baby to their home.
Baby Bohlokoa - aged 13 1/2 hrs.~ Benno ~
Thursday, 18 September 2008
Catching Up ... a Bit
I started this piece in May, and have been back to add to it once or twice. I just never got it finished. So after a few attempts to complete, this entry is somewhat of a jumble of unrelated and disparate information.
It has been a year that we have been in Africa, almost 14 months. It has gone so quickly. It has been challenging, but also rewarding. The immensity of the needs here has sometimes been overwhelming. The challenge not to become callous and uncaring is always there. I am white, “makhooa”. As such, it is assumed I have, therefore people ask. Most often they ask because they truly need, but many also ask because I am white, and maybe a bit gullible. Yet the risk of not giving and not caring, not walking alongside is to miss opportunities to bring a moment of joy to another or to be enriched by who they are.
Today is one of those days where I was reminded of the blessings of our friendships here. There was the joy of supporting the young woman next door as she went through a small but painful medical procedure. And the simple pleasure of working alongside one small work team at Beautiful Gate who every day bring an infectious joy and cheer to their work. Truly amidst the challenges and need, I feel so blessed by the people I have come to know and treasure.
There are many other things that bring pleasure to each day, not the least is living in a chaotic place where people sometimes just do what needs to be done to add to their lives. There are not a plethora of laws telling people how to live or, if there are, folks don’t seem to pay a lot of attention. In many ways people take things into their own hands or just make do with what life offers.
Like the fellow who wanted some trees in front of his house. The sidewalk outside his home is made of paving stones. So he just dug out a few paving stones and planted a tree. Actually he planted three trees in the sidewalk in front of his home. (More recently I have noticed that this is a rather common practice.)
Another fellow has a house above and bordering a natural area. He seemed to want a bigger back yard. So whenever someone is preparing a lot for building and needs to dispose of rubble his back yard is available. Now the natural area has a huge slag heap jutting out into it, … but the guy has a much bigger back yard.
Or potholes. There are some wicked ones in the roads here. Folks don’t just complain about the potholes in the roads. They actually get out and fill them in. Many potholes would be far worse if citizens hadn't gotten out and made road repairs, after a fashion.
Another day I was passing children walking to school. A pick up truck stops and the kids pile into the open back for a quick ride to school. I think there are seat belt laws here, but as Wendy has noted, even the policemen ride around in the backs of open pick-ups.
On other occasions I just smile at the absurdity of situations. Like the fellow I helped push his taxi to jump-start it. This was not the taxi owner I was helping, it was the customer.
It isn’t always taxis, but when driving it is common to see a couple of guys pushing a car to jump-start it, or a car broken down in the middle of a traffic lane, often with someone underneath making repairs.
Another positive to living in Lesotho, it is not Johannesburg. In June we were up in Jo’burg to visit our son Dylan. Dylan had given us excellent directions and we our way through this huge city to Joseph Project and nonchalantly parked out front of the Joseph Project site - we could actually see our car from within. But Jo’burg is not Maseru, Lesotho. One of Dylan’s colleagues quickly invited us to move our car off the street before the tsotsis caught sight of it. So it was off to park it behind a locked gate in a yard equipped with motion detectors, and an alarm system linked directly to the security company. To get at our car now, any tsotsi would have to climb over a six foot high wall topped with sharp metal spikes, race past the motion sensors, take what they wanted, avoid impaling themselves on the way back over the fence, and all before the security guards arrived with their guns. In Maseru we have occasionally been known to forget to lock the gate and the doors of our house at night. (This is not recommended practice, however.)
The drive to Jo’burg, included looking back at the snow crested mountains of Lesotho. It was winter then and in early July it was 3-4 degrees below freezing most every night. One thing I did not expect in Africa was frozen water lines, but we were having such problems at Beautiful Gate and other folks also reported experiencing frozen water lines. We have been okay at our house though our little coal heater was working hard to keep the chill off. Winter in Lesotho also means layering up to stay warm INSIDE.
I had brought a couple pairs of light MEC underwear to Lesotho in the event we were to do some hiking in the mountains in the fall or winter. Forget the hiking, I was wearing them to work everyday to stay warm - inside. I continue to marvel at how the buildings hold the night cold and during the day it is often warmer outside than inside. On winter mornings I often saw folks standing on the sunny side of their homes, soaking up the warm morning sun after a cold night inside. We do that at work too, when we start feeling chilled inside we head outside to a sunny spot. I have a big window behind my desk that catches the morning sun, so I don’t have to go looking for a warm sunny spot outside until the afternoon.
And now it is spring. Cool evenings but beautiful, warm days. On the horizon is the rainy season, with the rains of late spring, early summer anticipated in the next few weeks. Ah, life has its challenges, but overall it is good.
Tsalleng hantle,
~ Benno ~
It has been a year that we have been in Africa, almost 14 months. It has gone so quickly. It has been challenging, but also rewarding. The immensity of the needs here has sometimes been overwhelming. The challenge not to become callous and uncaring is always there. I am white, “makhooa”. As such, it is assumed I have, therefore people ask. Most often they ask because they truly need, but many also ask because I am white, and maybe a bit gullible. Yet the risk of not giving and not caring, not walking alongside is to miss opportunities to bring a moment of joy to another or to be enriched by who they are.
Today is one of those days where I was reminded of the blessings of our friendships here. There was the joy of supporting the young woman next door as she went through a small but painful medical procedure. And the simple pleasure of working alongside one small work team at Beautiful Gate who every day bring an infectious joy and cheer to their work. Truly amidst the challenges and need, I feel so blessed by the people I have come to know and treasure.
There are many other things that bring pleasure to each day, not the least is living in a chaotic place where people sometimes just do what needs to be done to add to their lives. There are not a plethora of laws telling people how to live or, if there are, folks don’t seem to pay a lot of attention. In many ways people take things into their own hands or just make do with what life offers.
Like the fellow who wanted some trees in front of his house. The sidewalk outside his home is made of paving stones. So he just dug out a few paving stones and planted a tree. Actually he planted three trees in the sidewalk in front of his home. (More recently I have noticed that this is a rather common practice.)
Another fellow has a house above and bordering a natural area. He seemed to want a bigger back yard. So whenever someone is preparing a lot for building and needs to dispose of rubble his back yard is available. Now the natural area has a huge slag heap jutting out into it, … but the guy has a much bigger back yard.
Or potholes. There are some wicked ones in the roads here. Folks don’t just complain about the potholes in the roads. They actually get out and fill them in. Many potholes would be far worse if citizens hadn't gotten out and made road repairs, after a fashion.
Another day I was passing children walking to school. A pick up truck stops and the kids pile into the open back for a quick ride to school. I think there are seat belt laws here, but as Wendy has noted, even the policemen ride around in the backs of open pick-ups.
On other occasions I just smile at the absurdity of situations. Like the fellow I helped push his taxi to jump-start it. This was not the taxi owner I was helping, it was the customer.
It isn’t always taxis, but when driving it is common to see a couple of guys pushing a car to jump-start it, or a car broken down in the middle of a traffic lane, often with someone underneath making repairs.
Another positive to living in Lesotho, it is not Johannesburg. In June we were up in Jo’burg to visit our son Dylan. Dylan had given us excellent directions and we our way through this huge city to Joseph Project and nonchalantly parked out front of the Joseph Project site - we could actually see our car from within. But Jo’burg is not Maseru, Lesotho. One of Dylan’s colleagues quickly invited us to move our car off the street before the tsotsis caught sight of it. So it was off to park it behind a locked gate in a yard equipped with motion detectors, and an alarm system linked directly to the security company. To get at our car now, any tsotsi would have to climb over a six foot high wall topped with sharp metal spikes, race past the motion sensors, take what they wanted, avoid impaling themselves on the way back over the fence, and all before the security guards arrived with their guns. In Maseru we have occasionally been known to forget to lock the gate and the doors of our house at night. (This is not recommended practice, however.)
The drive to Jo’burg, included looking back at the snow crested mountains of Lesotho. It was winter then and in early July it was 3-4 degrees below freezing most every night. One thing I did not expect in Africa was frozen water lines, but we were having such problems at Beautiful Gate and other folks also reported experiencing frozen water lines. We have been okay at our house though our little coal heater was working hard to keep the chill off. Winter in Lesotho also means layering up to stay warm INSIDE.
I had brought a couple pairs of light MEC underwear to Lesotho in the event we were to do some hiking in the mountains in the fall or winter. Forget the hiking, I was wearing them to work everyday to stay warm - inside. I continue to marvel at how the buildings hold the night cold and during the day it is often warmer outside than inside. On winter mornings I often saw folks standing on the sunny side of their homes, soaking up the warm morning sun after a cold night inside. We do that at work too, when we start feeling chilled inside we head outside to a sunny spot. I have a big window behind my desk that catches the morning sun, so I don’t have to go looking for a warm sunny spot outside until the afternoon.
And now it is spring. Cool evenings but beautiful, warm days. On the horizon is the rainy season, with the rains of late spring, early summer anticipated in the next few weeks. Ah, life has its challenges, but overall it is good.
Tsalleng hantle,
~ Benno ~
Wednesday, 17 September 2008
I'm so glad I have arms
I'm so glad I have arms
to reach out and hug you
when your eyes are pouring tears
as you tell me
that your life is falling apart
and you must hold yourself together
You seemed like the strong one
the one with life together
but I see you shattered
and I want to weep
with you
but if I hug you tight enough
maybe I can help you hold yourself together
just to make it through
Whatever else you do
reach toward me and I will hug you
Just to help you make it through
(My students who work so hard just to get through their grueling IB program, just to make a future for themselves, often have so many other things they are dealing with--so many stresses in their lives. I am wondering how I would cope...)
to reach out and hug you
when your eyes are pouring tears
as you tell me
that your life is falling apart
and you must hold yourself together
You seemed like the strong one
the one with life together
but I see you shattered
and I want to weep
with you
but if I hug you tight enough
maybe I can help you hold yourself together
just to make it through
Whatever else you do
reach toward me and I will hug you
Just to help you make it through
(My students who work so hard just to get through their grueling IB program, just to make a future for themselves, often have so many other things they are dealing with--so many stresses in their lives. I am wondering how I would cope...)
Babies and QII -- Saturday, September 13
It’s Saturday morning and our plans to go hiking quickly change when I look out the window and see a rare cloudy sky. Then Benno checks his phone messages to discover that a friend has SMSed to let us know her sister is in the hospital.
The younger sister of our good friend is having a baby; she is sixteen and we are trying to provide some support. We have asked Sarah, our midwife friend and Benno’s colleague at Beautiful Gate, if she will assist this young gal in the delivery since there’s a good chance she’d be doing it all by herself—unassisted and with no experience or training—otherwise.
So I phone Sarah to let her know the hike is off and that she’ll be needed at the hospital. A short while later we head into QII. I’ve been there before, but the stark—indeed stark—contrast between this hospital and anything I have seen in North America just hits me every time, right between the eyes and lower, in the region of my heart…
We walk through a crowded waiting room, down a rabbit’s warren of hallways, in doors, out of doors, down sidewalks, around corners, in other doors…all marked with poverty--disrepair, peeling paint, scarred linoleum, dingy, drab…until we are at the maternity ward lined with old, worn iron beds upon beds. Finally we find our young friend and her sister. As we chat, I look around to see many women all in various stages of labour or simply waiting—restless.
Our young friend is having what seems to be no more than the occasional Braxton Hicks contraction. She is not in active labour, and I wonder…this could be a long weekend.
As it turns out, it is, and I spend a fair bit of it back and forth to the hospital checking to see how things are going. Each time I am confronted with the realities for most pregnant women in this country:
They receive no prenatal education (unless a friend of relative gives them some advice) so they are exceedingly ill prepared. In this case, our young friend has come to the hospital far too early and ends up having a horrible weekend there, with little sleep and lots of emotional trauma…
At one stage, in the bed right across from her a woman goes through labour and delivery. Our young friend watches and her stress increases…
In the labour room just across the hallway from her bed, a woman screams in pain to be followed shortly after by a baby's cry. I sigh relief, Sarah sings, “Happy Birthday…” our young friend’s eyes become more anxious...
Perhaps anxious about many, many things. And I am thinking, reflecting on what Sarah had read on our young friend's chart: she confirmed that not only will this 16 year soon be a mom but already she is contending with HIV Aids.
At another of our visits over the weekend, Sarah asks her if she has any concern. Her response is instantaneous: “Three babies were born dead last night…”
We hear another woman screaming in Sesotho. Sarah understands and dashes into the delivery room. She’s a midwife. She has a midwife’s heart. She is not on duty. Her day at QII is Thursday and this is Saturday, but she dashes in. We hear a baby’s cry. I sigh relief.
About five minutes later Sarah comes out. She’s delivered the baby. The young mom was panicking. No wonder. The baby’s head was stuck and needed help. If Sarah hadn’t helped her—the other nurses were…obviously busy in one of the two other labour rooms—I wonder, would this baby have ended up with CP due to lack of oxygen, or would this baby also have been born dead. Thanks to Sarah, this baby will be okay—a bit blue, but quickly recovering before Sarah left the delivery room. Sarah was shaking her head in frustration. The mom was torn terribly. Had she received proper assistance, this would not likely have been the case.
All weekend, the litany goes on, and our young friend still waits for a baby that has no intention of entering the world quite yet. We encourage her: “Go home where you can relax. The baby will come at the right time. It is not time yet. Your labour pains need to be much stronger, much closer together…" . When she does go home, I leave my cell phone with her so she can contact her sister and us when her labour starts in earnest (It's now Wednesday and we are still waiting).
Meanwhile, what I have discovered is that so many women here, especially the young ones, likely especially the unwed ones, receive no prenatal education so they have no idea what to expect, and the birthing process is brutal here at QII. Can you imagine giving birth to a baby totally unassisted, and you know nothing about giving birth. Ah, these women are so strong! I guess they don’t have much choice. (Not unless they have 5,000 Maluti to deliver in a private hospital. That's about $850.00 Canadian and past the wildest imaginations of people who might be lucky to earn 40 Maluti a day!)
What to do? Benno and I are not sure, but we begin to wonder if God is calling us towards a ministry to young women here. More and more of them are entering our lives. More and more we see a huge need for this group, the girl child.
The younger sister of our good friend is having a baby; she is sixteen and we are trying to provide some support. We have asked Sarah, our midwife friend and Benno’s colleague at Beautiful Gate, if she will assist this young gal in the delivery since there’s a good chance she’d be doing it all by herself—unassisted and with no experience or training—otherwise.
So I phone Sarah to let her know the hike is off and that she’ll be needed at the hospital. A short while later we head into QII. I’ve been there before, but the stark—indeed stark—contrast between this hospital and anything I have seen in North America just hits me every time, right between the eyes and lower, in the region of my heart…
We walk through a crowded waiting room, down a rabbit’s warren of hallways, in doors, out of doors, down sidewalks, around corners, in other doors…all marked with poverty--disrepair, peeling paint, scarred linoleum, dingy, drab…until we are at the maternity ward lined with old, worn iron beds upon beds. Finally we find our young friend and her sister. As we chat, I look around to see many women all in various stages of labour or simply waiting—restless.
Our young friend is having what seems to be no more than the occasional Braxton Hicks contraction. She is not in active labour, and I wonder…this could be a long weekend.
As it turns out, it is, and I spend a fair bit of it back and forth to the hospital checking to see how things are going. Each time I am confronted with the realities for most pregnant women in this country:
They receive no prenatal education (unless a friend of relative gives them some advice) so they are exceedingly ill prepared. In this case, our young friend has come to the hospital far too early and ends up having a horrible weekend there, with little sleep and lots of emotional trauma…
At one stage, in the bed right across from her a woman goes through labour and delivery. Our young friend watches and her stress increases…
In the labour room just across the hallway from her bed, a woman screams in pain to be followed shortly after by a baby's cry. I sigh relief, Sarah sings, “Happy Birthday…” our young friend’s eyes become more anxious...
Perhaps anxious about many, many things. And I am thinking, reflecting on what Sarah had read on our young friend's chart: she confirmed that not only will this 16 year soon be a mom but already she is contending with HIV Aids.
At another of our visits over the weekend, Sarah asks her if she has any concern. Her response is instantaneous: “Three babies were born dead last night…”
We hear another woman screaming in Sesotho. Sarah understands and dashes into the delivery room. She’s a midwife. She has a midwife’s heart. She is not on duty. Her day at QII is Thursday and this is Saturday, but she dashes in. We hear a baby’s cry. I sigh relief.
About five minutes later Sarah comes out. She’s delivered the baby. The young mom was panicking. No wonder. The baby’s head was stuck and needed help. If Sarah hadn’t helped her—the other nurses were…obviously busy in one of the two other labour rooms—I wonder, would this baby have ended up with CP due to lack of oxygen, or would this baby also have been born dead. Thanks to Sarah, this baby will be okay—a bit blue, but quickly recovering before Sarah left the delivery room. Sarah was shaking her head in frustration. The mom was torn terribly. Had she received proper assistance, this would not likely have been the case.
All weekend, the litany goes on, and our young friend still waits for a baby that has no intention of entering the world quite yet. We encourage her: “Go home where you can relax. The baby will come at the right time. It is not time yet. Your labour pains need to be much stronger, much closer together…" . When she does go home, I leave my cell phone with her so she can contact her sister and us when her labour starts in earnest (It's now Wednesday and we are still waiting).
Meanwhile, what I have discovered is that so many women here, especially the young ones, likely especially the unwed ones, receive no prenatal education so they have no idea what to expect, and the birthing process is brutal here at QII. Can you imagine giving birth to a baby totally unassisted, and you know nothing about giving birth. Ah, these women are so strong! I guess they don’t have much choice. (Not unless they have 5,000 Maluti to deliver in a private hospital. That's about $850.00 Canadian and past the wildest imaginations of people who might be lucky to earn 40 Maluti a day!)
What to do? Benno and I are not sure, but we begin to wonder if God is calling us towards a ministry to young women here. More and more of them are entering our lives. More and more we see a huge need for this group, the girl child.
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Lessons in Faith
"Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you, then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good gifts to those who ask him!” Matthew 7:9-11
Faith. Our friend Thabiso provided me with an example of faith the other day.
The older of Thabiso’s two sister’s was experiencing a medical issue that was causing her a lot of pain, and causing her to miss school weeks before her major exams start. On Sunday Thabiso had walked his sister to the public hospital for assessment and treatment. Walked meant about six kilometers each way. The treatment did nothing to alleviate her pain or her symptoms. So two days later Thabiso walks his sister, still in considerable pain, about 16 kilometers (one way) to a private hospital. He has no money to pay, but he is doing what he can for his sister.
The private hospital agreed to see the sister, and diagnosed a cyst (?) that had become infected. The hospital even agreed to operate late in the afternoon. Thabiso had other responsibilities and could not stay. He had to leave his sister. We live only 5-6 kilometers from the private hospital. Thabiso’s words to his sister before he left were that when her operation was over, she should walk to our house.
She arrived at about 7:00 p.m. She was in pain and she was exhausted, and she likely hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I marvel at how tough folks are here. She had walked close to 20 kilometres (closer to 35 counting her walk on Sunday) all the while in pain - just seeking diagnosis and relief for her medical need. And she needed to return to the hospital the next day for post-op follow-up.
We fed her. Then I drove with her to her home even though it made better sense to just have her spend the night with us, and take her back to the hospital the next day on my way to work. But this family has no phone, no way to contact them. So off we went. When we arrived I asked Thabiso is he would have worried if his sister had not returned that night. He simply said, “No.” Thabiso appeared almost unconcerned.
What an interesting picture I thought. Thabiso had done everything he was capable of doing for his sister. When there was nothing more he could do, he let go and committed her to us. He was confident in our concern and in our ability to take care of his sister’s needs, believing we would not let him nor her down.
What a lesson for me. When faced with a challenge bigger than me, oh how often I lay awake and fret and worry and stew. All the while I have a God, so much more reliable, so much more concerned, so much more able to respond than I, who Thabiso trusted. Oh that I might have the simple faith in my great and awesome God that Thabiso had in me. A faith that lets go, and lets God, when I am not able.
~ Benno ~
Post-Script: I did bring the sister back home with me. She went straight to bed and crashed. She rested well, for a change having a single bed all to herself, and the next morning she had likely her first ever bath in a tub with running water. She said she felt much better, and she looked much recovered from the night before. I dropped her off at the hospital, making sure she had enough money to take a taxi (public transport) back to her home.
Sunday, 7 September 2008
Goodbyes…
Basotho do funerals very well. Unlike in North America where the process has become very ‘sanitized’ so that we have less and less connection with the person who has died, here people are given time to grieve. Time is taken to prepare for the funeral. And time is spent AT the funeral. No North American half to three-quarter hour service and off to the grave site. Here funerals go on for a long time, giving many of those who would like to say their last goodbyes the opportunity to do so, giving people permission to grieve their loss and giving them time to reflect…
So it was today as I sat from 9:00 a.m. to approximately noon while goodbyes were said, tributes were paid, and supportive comments were made to the family of our student who died so tragically in a car accident on August 23. It was hard, but it was good to have the time to reflect, to think about the gift of life--for me also to think about all my students and realize, once again, how precious they are—how their lives are so full of promise.
As the voices of the large crowd flowed together with the rich baritone of the lead singer in the eternal African rhythm, I was baptized in sound, comforted and blessed. The rhythm of life here will continue. This is the rhythm of Africa.
So it was today as I sat from 9:00 a.m. to approximately noon while goodbyes were said, tributes were paid, and supportive comments were made to the family of our student who died so tragically in a car accident on August 23. It was hard, but it was good to have the time to reflect, to think about the gift of life--for me also to think about all my students and realize, once again, how precious they are—how their lives are so full of promise.
As the voices of the large crowd flowed together with the rich baritone of the lead singer in the eternal African rhythm, I was baptized in sound, comforted and blessed. The rhythm of life here will continue. This is the rhythm of Africa.
Friday, 5 September 2008
Missing…
…the guys. I am indeed! The house feels so empty on the evenings when it’s just Benno and I. You see, over August we had a couple of my students staying here, looking after the house while we were on holidays, and then just staying on so they could use Internet and get some work done here in the city, close to the college instead of way out in the village as was the case for one of the fellows. It was like having our sons back home and I realized that I AM suffering from the empty nest syndrome when I’m not at school teaching. I miss the laughter, life and energy that young people bring to a home. Like I missed Annie and Michelle, so I am missing the guys. I loved teasing them, spoiling them, having some good chats with them and just getting to know them better.
Ah, but life goes on. We discovered that we will have to move from the house here, after all, since our landlady is moving in, so the next few months will bring lots of uncertainty then changes for us, so the guys went to boarding where they’d have some security. It would have been fun to have them stay, but I sure was blessed by their company for three weeks.
AND back at it!
Yes! I’ve just survived my first week back at school. The first day I felt so unprepared, like I’d just woken up in the middle of the night to discover that it was actually 8:00 a.m. and time to be at work. Then, on top of that scattered feeling it was announced on Monday morning that I was one of the teachers who would be on supervision duty all week long. Arggg! That meant no breaks from the beginning to the end of the day. What a week! You know, though, I survived, and it’s so good to be back. I DO love teaching. I do love my students. I do love interacting with them—bugging them, hassling them, teasing them, just sitting down and visiting with them, sharing ideas with them, challenging them… At points in my life I NEVER imagined that I’d feel this way—at times when I just wanted to quit teaching, but here I love it. My students are the greatest!
It’s good to be back.
Ah, but life goes on. We discovered that we will have to move from the house here, after all, since our landlady is moving in, so the next few months will bring lots of uncertainty then changes for us, so the guys went to boarding where they’d have some security. It would have been fun to have them stay, but I sure was blessed by their company for three weeks.
AND back at it!
Yes! I’ve just survived my first week back at school. The first day I felt so unprepared, like I’d just woken up in the middle of the night to discover that it was actually 8:00 a.m. and time to be at work. Then, on top of that scattered feeling it was announced on Monday morning that I was one of the teachers who would be on supervision duty all week long. Arggg! That meant no breaks from the beginning to the end of the day. What a week! You know, though, I survived, and it’s so good to be back. I DO love teaching. I do love my students. I do love interacting with them—bugging them, hassling them, teasing them, just sitting down and visiting with them, sharing ideas with them, challenging them… At points in my life I NEVER imagined that I’d feel this way—at times when I just wanted to quit teaching, but here I love it. My students are the greatest!
It’s good to be back.
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