A Lesson from Africa and Memories of Benin

I never imagined that Africa would prepare me for driving in Boston and New England, especially in winter. As I dodged the potholes and frost heaves during my drive around towns this weekend, however, it dawned on me that I honed my skill of pothole dodging on the city and country roads of West Africa. Likewise, driving through a market area with people crossing the street in various directions provided ample practice at pedestrian dodging, a talent that now benefits the jaywalkers in Boston.

I traveled the tunnels under the medical center today and saw a reminder of Anastasis life: a ceiling leak above a pipe created numerous small-scale stalactites. It even felt like walking down B-deck, with overhead pipes exposed.

Can't believe the Africa Mercy is waiting off-shore, sailing into Cotonou, Benin tomorrow (according to a friend's Facebook status update). Benin was the first West African country I visited with Mercy Ships and remains my second favorite West African nation. Sierra Leone will always be first because I've spend to much time there, but there are fun memories, adventures and patients from several trips to Benin. Here are a few:

• Justine, who came after she learned that a man with a tumor had survived surgery and returned home;
• Hugues, whose pre-op photo caused a translator to exclaim three years later, "This is bringing hope and healing!"
• Cavilla, who didn't survive, but whose story and experience brought transformation to a village and touched the hearts of hundreds;
• Riding my motorcycle through the villages with a friend on the back and stopping to play with the group of children who called out to greet us. Yes, I know motorcycles are dangerous, but they are so much FUN!;

• The man in northern Benin who refused to come to the ship for his cleft lip repair because his parents had already died and he was afraid they wouldn't recognize him when he died if he had it repaired. If Sonja had accepted his proposal, she'd be married by now!
• Touring a 'castle' style barn on the same trip to northern Benin;

• I LOVE screening days...lots of babies begging to be held and a chance to wear the uniform :) Oh, and the fact that for years I always said "Yes" to potential patients and rarely or never said "No." Though in recent years I usually said, "No," I still loved screening days.

• Worou (above with Jean Browne) and Sidoine (below with Jean C), infants with cleft lips;

• Symplice seeing for the first time after his cataract surgery.

• Brigette (above with Dr Gary) & Houeyi, little girls with horrific tumors. When I tell people why we had a CT scanner on the ship, I tend to tell Brigette's story and how we agonized over whether or not to operate, because we didn't know how deep the tumor went. Houeyi went to the US for surgery.

Back to Sierra Leone

I flew back to Sierra Leone yesterday morning. Fayah, a Mercy Ships driver from the fistula center picked me up and took me across Freetown via the hillside route in order to avoid traffic. The road travels through villages whose names recall the British connections: Bathurst, Charlotte, Leicester, Regent.

I noticed things as though seeing them for the first time because I realize it could be the last time. In two weeks I'll leave West Africa.

Twenty years ago, when I first landed it Sierra Leone, it was also rainy season. Coming down the steps from the plane, the humidity assaulted me. Rain often made conversations difficult if not impossible...nothing like trying to chat when a downpour plays kettle drum with the corrugated zinc roof over your head. On the road I remember the kids filling potholes with rocks and asking for a dash to reward them for their work before allowing us to pass. I remember sitting at the bottom of a hill contemplating whether it was better to stay to the right or left of the rut or straddle it and cross where it turned at the top. And I remember my first trip to Mattru with Michelle, when a rock struck our windshield, shattering it...and THEN the afternoon rains began. We ended up replacing the windshield with a sheet of plastic, on which the windshield wipers were of course useless, and she drove much of the way with her head out the window while I shifted according to her instructions. A friendship was born on that trip.

Yesterday I found myself wishing I had learned a lesson from my friend Ann and carried a notebook for recording observations and thoughts. Would I remember the zinc roofs covered with tarps and held down with rocks so the tarps would help keep out the rain and the rocks would keep the tarps from blowing away? Brooks that were often invisible from the road during dry season, now waterfalls and rapidly rushing streams visible from a distance? The sight of kids and parents washing laundry and themselves as the water dashed over rocks beside the road? Red clay rutted roads? Men, women, and children carrying usual and unusual loads on their heads (15' pipes, baskets of cassava leaf, bundles of charcoal or yams)? Men and women sitting beside a rock pile, hammering rocks into gravel to sell?

Fayah stopped at one point and backed up a bit, looking to the stream beside the road before continuing. When I asked what he was looking at, "there's a crocodile down there," he replied. That was a a little ways after the entrance to the chimp sanctuary. "It's open again; the chimps are under control for now." A few years ago there had been an attack on people and a massive chimp escape. These chimps were ones that had been kept illegally as pets.

Will share more thoughts and observations later.