Life, Love and War

 "There were all kinds of stories about war that made it sound as if it was happening in a faraway place and different land. It wasn't until the refugees started passing through our town that we began to see that it was actually taking place in our country. The children of these families wouldn't look at us, and they jumped at the sound of chopping wood or as stones landed on the tin roofs flung by children hunting birds with slingshots. The adults among these children from the war zones would be lost in their thoughts during conversations with the elders of my town. Apart from the fatigue and malnourishment it was evident they had seen something that plagued their minds, something that we would refuse to accept if they told us all of it." -Ishmael Beah

To think I have been here almost a year and I am no closer to making sense of this place; especially when it comes to topics such as life, love and war.

My work in the hospital continues, our pediatric charge nurse just recently returned from annual leave. With time and now adequate staffing on my side I requested to transfer wards to seek out an area of nursing I typically would not have the opportunity to pursue… theater. Needless to say, working in an operating room in a resource constrained community poses some difficulties. However, the conditions most patients present with are equally if not more challenging. It almost always makes for an interesting day.

Being here so long I have found a common theme among the wards. We have patients who suffer from needless tragedies as well as patients who make improbable recoveries, theater is no exception. For example a couple weeks ago I had a man admitted with urinary retention due to Benign prostatic hyperplasia, or, an enlarged prostate.  The man was in his fifties, strong and healthy, definitely not a patient you would expect to die. The next day on doctor rounds, I learned this man had literally dropped dead the evening before. As a nurse you ask yourself, “What the heck?!”. When talking to the family and clearing his bed it was discovery that five liters, yes five liters, of a local herbs was being stored under his bed. He was taking it in addition to the medicine being prescribed in the hospital. These local herbs are literally toxic to the body causing loss of consciousness, kidney and liver failure. For some reason unbeknownst to me, the people here believe it can cure anything!! There is a continuous struggle of traditional medicine verses modern medicine. Again, I have another patient die a preventable and tragic death. Although there are tragedies that cannot be foreseen there are also miracles that cannot be foreseen as well. In the same week I had a patient who was literally gutted like a fish with a “panga” (machete). The young man suffered from a collapsed lung, fractured ribs, a rupture spleen, and a fractured arm. Did I mention this injury happened about 24 hours prior to admission? I hate to say it, but I wasn’t too optimistic about his prognosis. However, a couple chest tubes, and three surgeries later he walked out of my hospital as good as you can be after an ordeal like that. Miracles and improbable recoveries are literally happening before my eyes.

Theater

 

In addition to the work I’ve been doing in Tabaka, I recently had the opportunity to travel to Rwanda for a wedding. It has been two years since I have been to Rwanda and I was so excited to go back. It was a very special trip for me for several reasons. One, because my good friend Angel was getting married, and two, because this was the country that not only solidified my love for volunteer work, but was also the country that made me fall in LOVE with the East African community. So away I went, but, like always not without trouble from immigrations. I won’t dwell too much on my immigrations issues, I’m sure you can imagine what it was like after my last horrifying experience. However, I have concluded one thing! No one, including the immigration officers seems to know the Kenyan immigration laws. It’s quite irritating to say the least.

Once I arrived safely to Rwanda I was immediately greeted by masked men and women at the airport. Ebola checkpoint. I was required to fill out a form asking where I lived, my profession and if I was sick in anyway. CRAP, if these people were more diligent I should have been stopped for more questioning. Where do you live? Kenya, red flag number one. What’s your profession? Nurse, big red flag number two. Have you been around any sick people within the last 21 days? Duh, of course… red flag number three! Have you been sick in the last 21 days? Shoot, when am I not sick here, red flag number 4!!! But, somehow after shooting their temperature gun at me I was allowed to pass, no questions asked. What a relief, Angel would have killed me if I missed her wedding.

 

 One of the many Ebola warning signs.

The following day was her wedding! Now weddings are a very funny thing in Africa. To me weddings always seem like more of a business arrangement than a celebration of love. I can’t speak for my friend Angel, however, in order to marry a lady in Rwanda and Kenya the families must first meet and discuss quite literally what the wife is worth. The dowry system is still commonly practiced here. Therefore, the man’s family must give the bride’s family a cow or money so the couple can be married. Traditionally it was cows. Now the younger generations are giving money. My friend Angel was worth three cows. I often joke with men by asking how many cows I am worth. I once got that I am worth ten!!!

During the dowry ceremony I had the honor of being one of the bridesmaids. Like everything else in Africa the dowry ceremony was a very slow, but an exciting process. It started first with the bride’s family arriving along with the wife and the bridesmaids. Immediately we were ushered into a back room, were we could not leave until the husbands family arrived and was settled. So the waiting began. Once the husband’s family had finally arrived, the bride’s family greeted them with handshakes and small talk. If you know anything about Africans you know they are VERY friendly and small talk can last for hours. Once greetings were exchanged and everyone took their seats, the bride’s family sat on one side and the groom’s family on the other. That seems pretty normal; however, there was a distinct difference from the American way. They were facing each other staring directly at one another. Now we were allowed out of the room. Like a row of ducklings baring gifts we followed each other outside. You might ask what the gifts were for. In the African culture each of your bridesmaids gives a gift to the immediate family members of the groom. As if we were playing pewee soccer we followed each other around the venue looking for the family members that were randomly seated among the crowd.

After the gifts were handed out, the husband and wife took their seats on what looked like a small throne. The groomsmen had seats on the stage and the bridesmaids sat on the floor…Oh Africa. We were given Fanta soda and drank while the bride and grooms family awkwardly starred at each other. Next, three “cowboys” came and did a traditional song and dance. Each “cowboy” represented the cow that was given to bride’s family. They sang and danced about the cow’s personalities and what good fortune the cow would bring to the family. Although I didn’t understand a word of it (since it was in Kinyarwanda) I still really enjoyed it. Finally, the ceremony concluded with a traditional African meal and the bride and grooms family drinking milk from a gorge. The milk was from the cows of the dowry. It was very special to watch both families drinking the milk together, representing the union of two families.

My friend Nicolas and I before the wedding

Angel and her husband

The happy couple

Presenting the gifts.

Groomsmen and bridesmaids

 

The remaining days in Rwanda I was able to meet up and collaborate with the organization We Are Limitless founded by a friend of mine Matt Leutwyler and helped managed by Rebbecca Ocampo.  Do you really think I could go to Rwanda and not work? Two years ago Matt and I met in Rwanda. At the time we were both volunteers, he was volunteering at Noel Orphanage and I was volunteering at both Noel and Murara Health Clinic. Most of the children are orphans as a result of HIV/AIDs or the genocide in 1994.  Seeing a great need for these children he established We Are Limitless (WAL); a foundation that focuses on providing education to orphaned children. Since then WAL has expanded into the Democratic Republic of Congo.

During my two days collaborating with WAL we greeted the children in their sponsorship program in Rwanda. It was great seeing these children because all of them I know from two years prior. It is truly incredible to see how education can transform a person. On our last day we crossed over into the Democratic Republic of Congo. We had to once again endure more Ebola screenings and deal with the corrupt boarder control. I have had my fair share of poverty and working in violent areas but immediately crossing into the DRC I was overcome with this dark and ominous feeling. It is literally the most daunting and heartbreaking place I have ever walked into. The sky was dark, the earth was black from volcanic rock, and trash littered the roads. Unlike the other African countries I have been to the children of the DRC ran from me. I was not greeted with friendly smiles or children screaming “muzungu”, instead I was greeted by a look of sheer terror and children holding machetes. UN and USAID trucks were everywhere, my friend Rebecca worded the experience perfectly when she said “Their presence makes me feel safe and conversely unsafe at the same time.”

Some of the child in the WAL sponsorship program

Lillian, Mary, JP and Emmanuel

For those of you who don’t know about the history of Rwanda or DRC at the very least I can say it’s extremely dark and plagued with violence. In 1994 within the span of 100 days 800,000 Rwandans were killed. 200,000 raped, and 2 million fled the country. This period in history is labeled the Rwanda Genocide, but within the recent years the country has gained a substantial amount of stability and is now considered one of the safest countries to travel to in Africa. As for the DRC it’s still a very unstable country known for warlords, mineral conflicts and rebel groups. Just last year much of Eastern Congo was occupied by the M23 rebel group. However, in December of 2013 they signed a peace agreement. It would be ignorant and naïve for me to say The DRC is now safe, but let’s just say it is a little bit safer than it has been in the previous years.

Goma

Get in and get out was my goal. However, the real goal was to look at a plot of land and meet with another organization called CENOVI (Centre d’Education a la Non Violence), to discuss the potential of building an orphanage,  school, and health clinic. Like Noel almost all of their children are orphans as a result of war or HIV/AIDs. Although the country is less than ideal, it was a great experience to give my input on the logistics of building a health clinic.

Children in the DRC

Children showing off their lollypops

Once I was back in Rwanda and had time to reflect on my experience. I found it very hard to wrap my mind around the topic of war. As a young American what tangible experience, short of 911, do I have with war? Nothing. What does ethnic violence mean to someone who knows nothing about tribal conflict? Up until a year ago I would have said nothing. With certainty I can say almost everyone I have met in Rwanda and The Democratic Republic of the Congo has been affected by war somehow, whether that be as the perpetrator or as the victim. It’s an overwhelming thought and in a way it serves me better not think too much about the heinous acts that occurred/occurs in both countries. It’s a very difficult concept to understand what war does to people. But when you see hundreds of orphans sleeping on the dirt floor of a church nearly starving you begin to comprehend the ramifications it holds. It breaks families apart, kills civilians, nurtures poverty and robs children of their innocence, and that is just the beginning of it. I still can’t even grasp it. My hope, after experiencing the devastating climate in Rwanda and the DRC is that We Are Limitless can accomplish their goals.

 CENOVI (Centre d’Education a la Non Violence)

 

The children of  CENOVI (Centre d’Education a la Non Violence)

With my trip an emotional, yet successful experience I headed back to Kenya. Yet again I was stopped to be screened for Ebola. I received the same form and went through the same process of having my temperature taken. However, this time they took note of my profession and country hopping. Kid you not I was isolated for more questions. I guess I passed the test because I am now back in Kenya safe.