Africa Mercy - Aboard: One Nurse's Journey

Here is another update from my dear friend "M." She is finally on board the Africa Mercy, I am happy to say! Click here to learn more about the nurses and doctors, and the people they help on this ship. 


Sat 3/23/2013 4:38 PM

"Aboard the Africa Mercy"

I last wrote from Chicago.  We did catch the next plane to Conakry, and almost all our luggage made it, too.  The container with $10,000 worth of medications was located in Brussels, and the airline kept it cold until we could catch up with it after the three day delay in Chicago. It was a good ending to the "hiccup" in our travels.

We did two weeks of field service in Conakry, Guinea, before boarding the Africa Mercy (the ship that Mercy Ships operates) yesterday.  Field service was amazing.  It was hot, dirty, disorganized, and stressful, with constantly shifting plans, delays, difficulties in obtaining supplies, and health issues for several of our team...BUT...when all was said and done, I was surprised to discover that we had successfully accomplished three projects.  We painted the classrooms for the deaf school and put murals on several of their walls.  Then, when the unrest in the city settled down, we were able to hold a couple of days of Vacation Bible School for the Christian school as we'd originally planned, and we built a fence around the existing playground at the hospital where we had planned to build a new playground for the smaller kids.

I said that I was surprised, but I shouldn't have been.  In retrospect, it became obvious that the Lord had a hand in crafting our days, tailoring the work to suit both the talents and the weaknesses within our group.  We had some artists among us to produce the murals, some workmen capable of building fences and repairing the school desks, some who knew sign language to help us connect to the children and teachers at the deaf school, some teachers gifted in working with children and leading VBS, and even some mature ladies (me) to connect with the women who gathered to watch us work.  We didn't make our plans around our talents--it was pretty much catch as catch can, from our point of view.

So when I saw how it all came together, I really did feel that  I saw the hand of God at work, in a non-miraculous way, through us.  We were full participants in his creation—our efforts, prayers, struggles, work, and sweat were necessary ingredients—the raw materials out of which God crafted the final product.  Sweet!

So, we've been on the ship for a day now.  Our group has been disbursed, 16 people scattered among 400+ crew members, ready to begin our various jobs on Monday.  Yet another transition point--a big one.  Until now, we've faced many adjustments, minor hardships, and new things, but always, the situation was temporary.  Now, we begin the process of settling into a new home and a new job that will last a while, so "tough it out" doesn't work as well.  Hopefully, we'll find strength in the Lord to embrace fully the path that lies before our feet, looking past the inconveniences and remembering to be thankful to be involved in this great project of Mercy Ships.

I'm preaching to myself.  Yesterday was a hard day.  I was exhausted, for one thing.  I was disappointed in my cabin assignment, and didn't have the reserves to shake it off.  I'm in an upper bunk that is so close to the ceiling you can't even sit up in bed.  The room is very cold, with a wind blowing on me from the outlet two feet away. The cubicle space seems even smaller than what I had last time--I can touch the opposite wall from my bed, which, it turns out, is a good thing.  I lean on the opposite wall to climb out of bed down the steep ladder.  In general, my bunk, which was my place of refuge last time, is useless for anything except sleep this time.  And until I fix a few problems, it's not even very good for that.

Today is somewhat better.  I'm still exhausted, but not quite so much.

I've made some progress in fixing problems and sorting myself out, and I've worked on attitude adjustment with some success.  I can see some of the good things in my new situation--toilets that flush, good food, pleasant roommates, even decaf coffee.  Today, I once again believe that I will solve the problems that can be solved and adapt to the inconveniences that can't be avoided.  I'll adjust. 

 Monday begins the new job as an admissions nurse.  Another learning  curve, and who knows what difficulties lie ahead.  But also, it is,  finally, the beginning of what I came to do.  Soon, very soon, the  two-year time of preparation will give way to THE BEGINNING.  Stay  tuned...

Be blessed, y'all.

M

Brick by Brick by Charles R. Smith Jr. and Floyd Cooper: Book Review

Brick by Brick
Author: Charles R. Smith Jr.
Illustrator: Floyd Cooper
Publisher: Amistad, 2013

Age: 5 to 8, Picture Book

Slowly, slowly, “brick by brick,” freedom is earned by African American slaves in this compelling story of slavery. It was the year of the nation’s first president, and President George Washington needed a special home. Slave owners were hired to help build the nation’s first White House, and they promptly ordered their slaves to work. “Black hands, white hands, free hands, slave hands,” Smith Jr. writes, worked hard to build the mansion, but for the slaves alone, the labor was brutal, often painful, and always without pay. They toiled seven days a week, twelve hours a day, men and women together, young and old, under the slave owner’s watchful eye. Some African Americans, however, learned a marketable skill or trade during enslavement and found ways to earn money—enough for many to buy their freedom. This is their story and the price they paid for that freedom. Names are real in Brick by Brick, and each face shows individual emotion. Yet Cooper’s overall use of brown shades gives a sense of unity to their struggle. Youth will come away with admiration and respect for the slaves that helped build America. A brief history of the White House is included at the end. Brick by Brick is a Coretta Scott King Award winner.

Copyright 2013 © Sharon M. Himsl

Welcome Spring

The grow light experiment worked! Hubbard and zucchini squash on the far left are the winners, and will need larger pots soon. The tomatoes on the right have plenty of room to grow for planting this June. Petunia is growing in the rear at a slower rate. Only half of the seeds sprouted. Someone has told me petunia is difficult to grow, so maybe half is good? On the lower rack, there are various herbs, lettuce and spinach growing.

I am surprised at how much water the seedlings have required - daily misting and watering every other day without fail. The heat from the fluorescent lamp is low, but enough to dry out the soil apparently.  Spring is here, but it is far too cold for planting on the Palouse in eastern Washington. We are still in the low 40-50°F degree range during the day and 20-30°F degree range at night. To our south in Lewiston (ID) and Clarkston (WA), spring often comes a month early. Temperatures can be as much as 10 degrees warmer. Vince and I decided to drive there over the weekend to do some shopping.

It takes about 45 minutes to reach the Lewiston grade. It's quite a drop in elevation as you can see below. In the 1970s when my husband and I first moved to the area, we took this windy road described on the sign (it was the only way!). We now drive down a slick four-lane highway at sixty miles an hour. Truckers are more cautious, however, and sand-filled escape lanes are provided in several locations - and for good reason. We have heard stories over the years of trucks losing their brakes and sailing over the cliff on that first road.

View from the top. It is still very much winter here, as you can see. These hills will turn velvety green soon, but not for long. They will be brown over most of the hot summer. Lewiston is below to the right. By the way, Lewiston is named after Lewis Meriwether of the Lewis and Clark expedition. Clarkston to the right of this view is named after William Clark.

We stopped in Lewiston along the Clearwater River to view the old 18th Street Bridge. There we saw a touch of green in the grass, and hills in the distance, but trees elsewhere are still in the bud stage.
 

Some history on the bridge follows . . .

Coming home, those gray clouds turned into 
a raging snow blizzard. 

Ah . . . spring, don't you just love it!

Happy St. Patrick's Day

Ever wonder why we pinch each other on St. Patrick's Day if someone forgets to wear green? Oops, did you forget? The pinching tradition was started in America in the 1700s by Irish immigrants. They claimed that wearing green made them invisible and kept the leprechauns away. Leprechauns were mischievous fairies who liked to play practical jokes on people.

History shows that the original color associated with this Roman Catholic 4th century saint was really blue. St. Patrick is believed to have used the green shamrock as a teaching tool to explain the holy trinity to Irish Catholics, which may be why people started wearing green when celebrating his memory. Celebration of St. Patrick's Day in Ireland predates the 1600s and became a holiday in America in the 1700s. 

 St. Patrick (Patricius) was born to a rich landowning family in Britain near the end of the 4th century, where exactly is unknown. During a raid of his family's land by Irish pirates, he was captured at the age of fifteen and taken to Ireland, where he was enslaved for six years. After hearing a voice in a dream, telling him how to escape, Patricius managed to flee his captors and return home. It was the basis of his religious conversion to Christianity. St. Patrick then returned to Ireland as a priest and missionary around 430 A.D., where he stayed for many years spreading Christianity everywhere he went. Tens of thousands were baptized and hundreds of churches were established all over Ireland.

St. Patrick's Day is still celebrated in Ireland with parades and family gatherings, and to some degree in the U.S. Parades are held in larger cities here and most of the stores stock up on corn beef and cabbage (not my favorite). Senior centers and similar places serve Irish Stew on the menu. I happened to be in Spokane yesterday attending a writers' workshop. Streets were barricaded and people (some in green costumes--mostly kids) were lining up, waiting for the big parade.

Growing up, I sort of remember someone walking through the neighborhood playing a bag pipe on this holiday. In grade school I must have cut out dozens of shamrocks with my classmates. We had fun pinching everyone who forgot to wear green, listened to our teacher read cute stories about leprechauns, and ate cookies with green frosting.  

Any other traditions out there? How do you celebrate St. Patrick's Day?

[Source: http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Society/2010/0317/St.-Patrick-s-Day-Why-do-we-wear-green; http://holydays.tripod.com/shamrock.htm; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Patrick's_Day; St. Patrick of Ireland: A Biography, 2005, Phillip Freeman] Copyright 2013 © Sharon Himsl

The City's Son by Tom Pollock: Book Review

The City's Son (Book 1: Skyscraper Throne )
Author: Tom Pollock
Publisher: Flux, 2012
Reviewer: Sharon M. Himsl
Ages: 15 up, Young Adult fiction
Pages: 460


London is like any city of old, with its crumbling buildings and lost memories, buried in the wake of skyscrapers and change. But what if vintage lampposts, graveyard statues, junkyard rubble and its homeless remnants could speak? Would they fight back against the skyscraper realm? This is the centuries-old, magical underworld that Tom Pollock creates in his debut urban fantasy novel, The City’s Son. Beth Bradley, a high school student at Frostfield High, wanders into this monster-filled world accidentally, but the "real" world she leaves behind is no less monstrous. At home, her zombie-like father has been a mental basket case, catatonic ever since Beth’s mother died. Beth spends a lot time on the streets drawing graffiti and getting into trouble at school as a result. Beth's only real support is Pen, her Pakistani best friend. Pen, too, deals with "real" life monsters. A math teacher at school has abused her and she is under his control. The friendship splinters when Beth mistakenly believes that Pen has betrayed her in a school incident. Beth leaves home for good and meets Filius, the fifteen-year-old crown prince of the underworld. Beth finds a home never before imagined, complete with talking statues, pylon spiders, a junkyard character named Gutterglass, and other strange characters. A relationship develops between Filius and Beth as they pull together forces to battle Reach, a powerful monster who threatens to destroy the city. Meanwhile, Pen sets out to find Beth, along with Beth’s father, who has finally come to his senses. Pen is then captured by the Wire Mistress, Reach’s priestess, and her body is taken over. Mr. Bradley must persevere alone and find a way to help his daughter, while Beth is forced to fight her best friend in the final battle. The City’s Son is well-written, gritty and thought-provoking. Readers are advised of violence, language, and sexual content.

I have never read urban fantasy before. I was asked to review this book and said, "Okay," and to be honest, it took one hundred pages before I was fully vested in the story. This is the point where Pen decides to look for Beth. Symbolism and metaphors abound in The City's Son and it is what Pollock does with Pen that I found so convincingly developed. That Pen goes from being dominated by a horrid teacher in the real world to being controlled by the Wire Mistress in the fantasy world is no small coincidence. I won't spoil what happens there, except to say it worked for  me. Mr. Bradley's development, on the other hand, came up short. Perhaps Pollock intends to develop him in the sequel, but I found it dissatisfying that more didn't happen between Beth and her 'dead to the world' father, who has experienced some kind of transformation and returned to help her. What happened there? It is a subplot, but an important one.

Copyright 2013 © Sharon M. Himsl

Africa Mercy - Hiccup: One Nurse's Journey

This is a running post about my friend's journey to Africa and work as a nurse on the Africa Mercy. Click here to learn more about the nurses and doctors on this ship. I am still waiting for news "M" has arrived safely! Her latest email is dated 3/7.

  

3/7/13
"hiccup"

Just getting to Conakry seems to be a challenge.  To get the humanitarian rates, our group of 19 was split into two groups.  My group was scheduled to fly from Tyler to Houston, Chicago, Brussels, and Conakry.  The other group was scheduled to fly from Dallas to Newark, Brussels, and Conakry.  Because of weather in Newark, the Dallas group was eventually, after hours of uncertainty, rescheduled to Chicago.

They arrived moments before our plane to Brussels was loaded.  So far, so good. We boarded for Brussels almost on time and moved slowly down the runway for fifteen minutes or so...and then returned to the gate.  Mechanical troubles, they said.  Now, that was the same plane we'd just flown in coming to Chicago--I'm glad "mechanical troubles" didn't affect us before we landed!  After fiddling with the problem for a while, they scrapped that plane and got us another.

But, with all the delays, our turn-around time in Brussels was gone.  We were going to miss our connection to Conakry.  That was a problem, because there are only two flights a week to Conakry.  Did they want to put us on the flight to Brussels and park us there for three days?

Shucks, maybe not. It took hours, but eventually they decided to park us in Chicago for three days.  We'll resume our travel itinerary on Saturday to catch the Sunday flight into Conakry.  Hopefully.

Of course, our luggage didn't fare so well.  Some of it is here, but quite a bit of it is somewhere else in the world...Newark?, Brussels?

Conakry? A back room in Chicago?  A random airport in Asia?  They may eventually round it all up for us...or not...but the worst of it is, they have lost the box of medications packed in ice that we were taking to the ship.

So, we traveled for about seventeen hours yesterday, and we made it from Texas to Chicago. I, for one, was exhausted and glad for a nice comfy bed and a day of rest.  Saturday will begin another marathon travel day--it'll take about 24 hours, if all goes well, to get from here to Conakry.

Of course, plans for our field service have changed again.  One of our leaders went a few days ahead of us to line things up, and he is doing a terrific job.  The current plan includes some time in a school for deaf children and some repair work in a men's prison, both located in the safe zone of Conakry.  But...well, we're fluid if need be.  I am thankful it's not my problem to work all this out.

So, contrary to expectations, I am not spending the next couple of days painting a dental clinic in the tropics of Guinea.  I am lounging, sightseeing, and resting in cold, snowy Chicago, mostly at the expense of United Airlines.  Pretty tough, eh? 

Blessings,

M