The Africa Mercy has finally left port where it has been undergoing repairs and maintenance for some time. The medical team is on their way to Pointe Noir, Congo now, where once again they will provide critical health care services. This is a running post of my friend's journey on board this amazing hospital ship as a nurse. I love the dolphins she describes in this post. What a blessing she also happens to be an excellent writer! "Sailing the Ocean Grey"
7/31/13
We set sail last weekend, headed for Pointe Noir,
Congo. It's an almost two week
sail--seems like a long time, in this age of air travel, but since this ship
can't fly, we chug along through the waters off the coast of Africa to reach
our goal.
The waters are grey, not blue, this trip. That's because the sky is overcast, dense
with sand blowing off the Sahara. I had
trouble sleeping last night, so I went up to deck 8 for a while. There was not a star in the sky, no horizon
to be seen, just a closed-in world of water churned up by the wind. I held on to the railing, of course, since
the ship rocks quite a bit with the wind and waves. It felt almost greasy, damp with sea spray
and covered with fine-grained sand.
You should have seen my hands afterwards! Who knew I'd find a sandstorm a hundred miles
out to sea? It wasn't like the stinging
sandstorms we used to have in El Paso Texas, though, because only the finest
grains of sand travel this far.
When the ship rocks gently, it can lull you to
sleep. Last night, however, it felt like
my bunkmate was kicking my bunk or stepping on my mattress while climbing into
her bunk. It was rather like someone was
shaking me awake--so naturally, I would wake up every time it happened.
My bunkmate was safely tucked into her bunk, not guilty
of causing any commotion--it was just the whole ship shuttering under the
impact of the wind-blown waves. I can't
imagine what it would be like in an actual storm! I hope I don't have occasion
to find out!
A couple of days ago, we suddenly had an escort of a
dozen dolphins for about half an hour.
They were amazing to watch as they swam alongside, dived under the bow,
and leaped into the air for us. At
dinner, I heard a seaman describe it from the dolphin's point of view. "Ho hum, another day like other
days. Hark! I hear the drone of one of those large,
boring old fish that just swim in a straight line and sing one note the whole time. But often, there are parasites on those fish
that can be a lot of fun. If we jump out
of the water, they make the grandest noise, cheering and clapping and talking
to one another. Let's go see if we can
make them perform for us." And
indeed, that's just what they did.
Once we arrive in Congo, sometime around August 9, we
will be busy cleaning and unpacking the hospital. It's very dirty from all the construction,
and of course, everything is all packed away and tied down for the sail. We are planning to do our major screening on
August 28, and will begin surgeries not too long after that. Anticipation is running high. This is what we've all come to do, and it is
about to begin, another year of life-transforming surgeries for the world's
forgotten poor.
The advance team has been in Congo for several months
already, making relationships, finalizing contracts, preparing the sites for
the dental clinic, the eye clinic, and the Hope Center. (The Hope Center is
basically housing for patients who live far away and need ongoing physical
therapy or dressing changes after they are discharged from the hospital.)
Containers of supplies should be waiting for us when we arrive. Surgeons, nurses, and others are making their
final arrangements at home, preparing to come before the big screening event
that kicks off our field service for the year.
The advance team has been interviewing and hiring several
hundred "day crew", Congolese nationals who live at home but work on
the ship as translators, galley crew, deck hands, and other jobs. We couldn't
manage without them. Getting the right
mix of job skills into each department and getting translators for multiple
languages into all the departments that need translators is quite a project in
itself. Then, all these workers need to
be trained, not only for their particular jobs, but into the Mercy Ships culture,
expectations, and standards.
When you think about it, it's pretty incredible. We have to have a full crew with technical
skills to sail a large ship, a full crew to provide hotel services for an
average of 500 people a day, a full surgical crew to staff several operating
rooms, and a full hospital crew to care for the patients. Then you try to staff that with volunteers
from 30-35 different countries, go cross-cultural, deal with language barriers,
move the whole operation from place to place every year, stretch your supply
lines half-way around the world, and
work with a dozen different host nations.
Somehow, the Lord sustains the whole messy business, and we actually do
a fair amount of good wherever we go. I am still thrilled to have a small part
to play in this grand scheme. What a
blessing it is to be here.
May the Lord bless each of you in your endeavors, too.
I enjoy these posts - and she is certainly a wonderful writer! I read about the damp sand feeling almost greasy beneath her hands and though 'I'd never have thought to put it that way'. Wonderful - and I almost feel, when I read these accounts, as though I'm traveling with the Africa Mercy.
ReplyDeleteHave a wonderful weekend!
Diana at About Myself By Myself
Thanks, Diana. I have similar feelings reading her posts. I am learning so much, too!
ReplyDeleteToday, I went to the beach front with my children. I found a sea
ReplyDeleteshell and gave it to my 4 year old daughter and said "You can hear the ocean if you put this to your ear." She placed the shell to
her ear and screamed. There was a hermit crab inside
and it pinched her ear. She never wants to
go back! LoL I know this is completely off topic but I had to tell someone!
my web page ... pity 2013