Some bless you and others slap you

 “You step into people’s lives and make a difference. Some bless you and others curse you. You see people at their worst and best. You see life begin and end. You see people’s capacity for love, courage and endurance.”

I have only been in Kenya about two months. The above quote is from a sign that hangs in the nurse’s station. Every day I read it and think about its truth. Work has had many ups and many downs. When I came to Kenya I started working as a maternity nurse. Finally, after starting to get the hang of things, I was transferred to the female surgical ward because of a ”nursing shortage”. I laugh at the term nursing shortage because it implies that the other wards are adequately staffed.  Now, I am working on the female surgical ward.

Everyone is probably wondering how I am adjusting to being a nurse, since this is technically my first nursing job. It’s still so weird calling myself a nurse but slowly I’m getting used to it.  The adjustment is going surprisingly smooth. Of course there is a lot I don’t know, but, I try to ask a questions and look up things I don’t understand. The biggest set back to my learning is the language barrier. Rounds are usually in Kiswahili, broken English, one of the 42 tribal languages or all of the above. Most of my patients don’t speak any English and some don’t even speak Kiswahili. However, it’s amazing what a smile and a handshake can do to build a rapport with patients.

There is so much to say about work, I couldn’t possible blog it all. Below is a collection of times I loved, hated, and times I will surly never forget. If I have learned one thing working in Kenya, it’s to keep a sense of humor. Without one I wouldn’t last a day.

·         One of the first days working on the surgical ward I completed morning rounds with the doctor. I am aware of ever patient’s condition, including bed 113. Chronic septic ulcer of the left lower limb that is now malignant. Patient is scheduled for an above the knee amputation this week. Plan for today blood transfusion, clean, soak in precept and dress in the ward.

Day continues, I begin to give IV mediations. I then hear “sister sister (something in kiswhali) tembea”. I can only understand the word tembea, meaning to walk. I assume a patient that should not be up is walking by the urgency in their voice. They drag me over to the other side of the ward and point to the ground. There are maggots crawling on the ground. Tembea… maggots are walking. I look at bed 113 and the patient is pulling maggots out of her septic wound. My poker face completely failed me, all I could say was “oh no…. Let’s not do that”. 

I cleaned her wound which included pulling maggots out of a very septic leg. Since then her leg has been amputated. I asked the mama if she was sad her leg was gone. She responded hapana (no), she said she was happy because now the bugs are gone. That makes two of us.

·         Another old mama, bed 115. Age 70 (her granddaughter thinks) and very very confused. Admitted for a wound on the abdomen, and possible bowl proliferation. Plan for the day, clean and dress wound. Place colostomy bag, measure output and type of output, continue antibiotic treatment. First day working with her I introduced myself. She forgets me within seconds. I go to dress her wound and she screams. Squirming she screams “the mzungu is trying to kill me, the mzungu is trying to kill me.”  The ward is full of patients so everyone can clearly hear the only white person on the ward is trying to kill people.

Second day, greet her, this time her eyes squint and lips pucker. The colostomy bag I placed yesterday is ripped off and thrown across the ward. Ok mama, I get the point, you don’t want to be friends. Start to clean her wound and she slaps me. Thanks mama. I then proceed to try to hold her hand down and do a dressing at the same time. Replace the colostomy bag and tape the edges against her stomach.

Day three, I think I am smart. I find a caretaker to hold her down. I get the same look as day two. However, this time she looks at me and tells me she would slap me if she could. Colostomy bag nowhere to be found.

Although this patient hates me there is something about her I love. I hope I’m half as feisty when I’m old.

·         My first month here I worked in maternity. Many days were spent in nursery. Charles is admitted to Tabaka as a result of the health care strike. Charles is born 28week and is tiny! I have never seen something so small. 2 pounds, not feeding and difficulty breathing, odds are not in his favor. NG tube inserted, feedings started, and oxygen given. Sadly that’s about all I can do with limited resources. Amazingly, he makes it a week. One week becomes two and two becomes a month, he’s a little miracle. I become close to both Charles and his mother, when you spend a month caring for something so precious it’s hard not to.

Today Charles is still alive. He’s not out of the woods yet, weighing in at about 4 pounds, but he is making considerable improvement. I’m watching a miracle happen before my eyes, Although I’m not in maternity anymore I go every day during my lunch break to monitor his progress. His mother calls him her miracle baby.

·         New Patient admitted on Saturday, the day I’m off. Bed 101, female admitted for snake bike to the right foot. I work with her throughout the week. She is in no need of surgery and fortunately did not suffer any systemic affects… very lucky. Tuesday, I finally get the full story about what happened. She was in her house barefoot and a snake bit her. She tourniqueted the foot twice, once at the ankle, another a little further up. Smart thinking. We continue to talk and suddenly this smells comes over me. Being in a surgical ward I have become very in tune to the smell of necrotic tissue. I then ask what is that smell? She then replies the snake. Once again my poker face fails. All I can say is where is it? She points under the bed. Literally I jump half way across the ward in my Tinkerbelle scrubs… very impressive, I’m sure I lost all creditability! A few translations later I find out she killed the snake and brought it to the hospital in the event she needed to be treated for systemic affects. Also smart thinking. But, four days post bite she still has the snake... rotting under her bed. Tabakas female surgical ward is not the place to be if you are sensitive to smells.

Like the quote said, you walk in to people’s lives, some patients bless you while others slap you. Maternity brings life and unfortunately death. Finally, we have  a mother whose capacity for love, courage and endurance for her baby is a miracle in its self.

 Welcome to Tabaka

Conducting official nursing business. Just kidding.

 

One of my little preemies.

 

Baby Charles, this pic speaks for itself.

 

One of my favorite mamas on the surgical ward.

She has been through so much but continues to smile.

 

In other news, if you have been following my others posts you might be interested to know contact information has been exchanged between CMMB and Maisha. Also, Lawrence’s brother Sunior has been sponsored to go to school.

 

 

Lawrence

So there was one more reason why I went to Maisha, but I felt like it deserved a separate post. My parents reached out to Maisha a couple months before I arrived in Kenya. They decided to sponsor a child to go to school. Ironically it happens to be close to where I live in Tabaka.

The child they sponsor is a five year old boy named Lawrence. The idea of sponsoring a child sounded great but never in a million years did I think I would be able to actually meet him and see how much his sponsorship really affects his family.

Meeting Lawrence I can safely say was the best day of my life. Beatrice was able to arrange a ride for Lawrence and one of his older brothers, Sunior, to meet me at the orphanage. The day I met him I arrived at the orphanage not knowing he would be there. When I arrived the director told me that Lawrence was in the health clinic waiting for me. Excited and nervous I hurried over to the health clinic to meet what my family calls “my new brother”. I walked into the health clinic and there they were, two little boys staring wide eyed at what might have been the first Muzungu they had ever seen. Immediately I hugged them, but in retrospect that was a terrible idea. Sunior was shaking and Lawrence was about to cry. Being the overly emotional person that I am I started to cry, I was so happy to meet them. I really wish I could have known what was going through their heads. If I had to guess it probably would be what’s wrong with this weird ladies skin.

I really had no expectations as to how Lawrence would be. But very quickly I realized these two boys were incredibly scared making them incredibly shy. I just wanted them to like me as much as I already liked them. Looking for anything to make us friends I found bubble gum and a plastic recorder in my backpack. They were too scared to touch the recorder so I resorted to the bubble gum. I gave them each a piece. They looked at it timidly and put it in their mouths. Finally, the ice was broken. I tried explaining who I was but I feel a lot of it got lost in translation.  However, Sunior did understand the word sponsor. The word made him break out into the biggest smile I had ever seen. Unfortunately, later that day I came to find out Sunior does not have a sponsor to go to school.

We spent the reminder of the day hanging out. At lunch time they got to join the children at the Maisha Academy for lunch. For many of these children the lunch they receive at school is the only meal they get all day. It was great to see Lawrence and Sunior eat, but, I noticed before lunch they stuck their gum in their pockets to save for later. So gross but so adorable.  

Finally, it was time for them to go home. I had the opportunity to ride the motor bike home with them. They live in a small village about 20 minutes by bike from Maisha. I arrived at their house to find a couple of chickens running around and a home made out of mud. I also arrived to meet Lawrence’s three other brothers, mother and father. They invited me into their house and made me sit down. Their father immediately started the conversation, good thing too because I have a tendency to be awkward. They started by thanking me for everything I had done. Eric, Lawrence’s father went on and on about how much it will help their family. He said his boys have been chased out of school because he is unable to pay their school fees on a bicycle repair mans salary. Overly emotional I began to cry again. I had so many mixed emotions, first, it’s not me, it’s my parents paying for Lawrence to go to school, second, it’s really not that much money for an American family, and lastly, there are still four other boys that do not have sponsors to go to school. The meeting ended with Eric, standing up, looking me in the eyes and shaking my hand. He then told me how much he appreciates it and how it will change his family. This meant the world to me. All I could tell him was it’s my pleasure to help his family out, and I will try my best to help find his other children sponsors to go to school.

Meeting Lawrence’s family was such a humbling experience. To be able to sponsor a child and have the money actually go toward the child is incredible. I knew it would mean a lot to his family but I never realized the significance of it until I was sitting in their mud house talking to them. Education is your ticket out of poverty. I intend to keep my word to Eric about helping find sponsors for his children. If any of my readers are interested in becoming a sponsor to any of Lawrence’s older brothers it would mean the world to them. Email me at bmckinnon90@mail.com and I will help you with sponsorship. Also if you like my work and want to help please donate at http://support.cmmb.org/site/TR?pg=fund&fr_id=1010&pxfid=2060

I forgot to add, as I was leaving Lawrence’s house in the distance I heard the sound of the plastic recorder. Sorry Eric and Rosemary…. I guess a loud annoying instrument is not the best gift for a small child.

Lawrence, Sunior and I

Eating

Lawrence and Sunior

Lawrence's Family

 

Lawrence's house. The mud is painted to look like bricks.

Maisha

I wish I could say I love the village of Tabaka but it is so incredibly boring. I really have to plan ahead if I am going to leave the gates of the hospital. It’s hard to adjust to this simple and slow lifestyle when I love adventure.  Because I was getting cabin fever I decided to visit Kisumu over Christmas.

I was attracted to Kisumu for several reasons. First, it’s relatively close to Tabaka. Second, the city is on Lake Victoria. Lastly, I went to work at Maisha (an Orphanage and community center). My family in Oklahoma City has recently connected with the founder of this organization and suggested I go for a visit. Maisha is a nonprofit organization established by a Kenyan, but ironically it’s based out of Oklahoma City. Maisha’s mission is to inspire people to help people and strengthen the community by finding lasting solutions to stop poverty, hunger, and disease.

Before going I did a little bit of research on Maisha, the mission sounded great, but, I’m always skeptical with organizations such as this given my past volunteer experiences. Based off of my previous experience with orphanages in Africa I was expecting complete chaos. I was expecting a dirty facility with kids everywhere craving attention. I was expecting a place that’s main goal was to keep their children fed and anything else such as education, cleanliness or health care would be extra. Once I arrived and met Beatrice, the founder, I was pleasantly surprised. I found a clean facility that only houses about 25 children. I found a place that works closely with the community and stressed helping your fellow Kenyan, and a place that sponsors hundreds of children to go to school. Lastly, I found a place of joy that I genuinely felt had the best interest of the children, and had not been effected by corruption, a rare find in Kenya.

While at Maisha, I met many of the children being sponsored to go to school. I saw the farm they use to feed their children, and the sewing machines they use to produce products to create income.   I also saw the Maisha Academy (their school) and the soon to be health clinic. Like I said before, I really feel like this organization has the best interest of the community. So many children are fed and go to school as a result of Maisha.

Learning about Maisha mission, as well as their hopes to establish an outpatient health clinic really makes me want to get involved.  After learning a little bit more it’s clear they have the infrastructure but not the resources. My goal is to get Maisha in contact with CMMB to discuss the idea of sending a medical volunteer or at minimum donating medical supplies. I know it’s going to be a process, but, I think it would really be amazing if I can bring two organizations together to help educate, empower and provide health care in a rural area in Kenya. I have so much faith in both organizations, I would love to bring them together. I’m still brainstorming ideas on how to help establish and outpatient health clinic but I will keep my readers updated.

 I also managed to have a lot of fun while I was Kisumu. For the first time in a month I slept in an amazingly comfortable bed and ate amazing food. Maisha had a Christmas Party for everyone in the Maisha program. They slathered a cow for the occasion and every part of it was used. Over 600 people were fed on Christmas day. In addition, everyone got soda that day. I was told this is a big deal since they only get soda once a year. I could tell the children were excited when they refused to play and just watched the cases of soda until they all received one at meal time. The party also had a dj, Santa and face painting. Usually I don’t enjoy Christmas (you may call me the Grinch) because it’s so commercialized in the U.S., but this Christmas was absolutely amazing.  I was met amazing people and helped serve a population in need. This is what Christmas should be about, enjoying peoples company, serving others, being thankful for what you do have, and appreciating the little things… such as one bottle of soda.

Throughout the week I was able to meet so many inspirational people. Hearing the orphans stories about who they are and where they came from makes me want to be a better person. So many of them have lost both their parents. Many of them came from living on the streets forced to raise themselves. They told me about their sad pasts and their dreams of a happy future. It amazed me how every single one of them wanted to go to school because “education is power”. Education is your ticket out of poverty. I fell in love with each and every one of them. Their strength amazed me. However, seeing these children working so hard against all odds made me angry. Not angry with them but angry with my country. We are blessed with a free education, why do some people fail to take advantage of it? Why are so many people inherently lazy? I can’t stop thinking “education is power”. It’s not just specific to Kenya, education can make or break someone, regardless where you are located in the world.

Lastly, in Kisumu I was able to do some sightseeing with the older orphaned boy. I was excited but they were REALLY excited. We went to Lake Victoria, saw some hippos, and went on a boat ride. The boat ride was beautiful but scary. First, it was windy when we took the boat out. Second, the boat was made of wood, and lastly it was in hippo invested water. Throughout the ride I kept thinking if this boat sinks what will I do? Will I try to save myself and swim to shore, or, will I try to save an orphan. Then I thought if I had to save someone who would it be? Next, I wondered would it even be worth it because I’m sure the hippos would kill me and then crocodiles would eat my body. I'm so ashamed of myself. Good thing it didn’t have to come down making those decisions.

So blessed to have an amazing Christmas and spend it with amazing people.

The cow

 

Maisha (Maisha means life in Kiswahili)

Face painting

 

Soon to be health clinic

Cases of soda

 

Boys and I at Lake Victoria

 

Enjoying Soda