Our Kindia Experience

Fair warning: it's a long one :)

Being from the Northwest, I love the outdoors. I am a huge fan of all things green, and yes, even the rain. So for our first three-day weekend we decided to get out into the countryside of Guinea and check out a region called Kindia! We planned to be joined on Saturday by a bunch of our friends, but we talked another couple into coming up with us early - Maria and Freddie, our beloved New Zealanders. And we hired our own driver, a man who went by Barry White and had a particular affinity to Akon (we soon found out). So bright and early Friday morning he picked us up outside the port, and we were off!

Road ready!

For our first adventure, we call to the floor Conakry's traffic. We had barely been on the freeway for thirty minutes when we were rear-ended - by a motorcycle driven by a police officer. No one pulled over, we stopped in the middle of the road, he pulled up to our front window, kinda shrugged, and then drove off. Lol. Thankfully he only broke our back right tail light.
This trip was off to a great start :)

Finally getting to the outskirts of Conakry

After weaving through the Capitol for over an hour we finally emerged from the city and began to breathe clean air. This is the Africa I remember - rich red dirt, lush green foliage, thatched huts dotting the landscape, and roadside fruit stands :)

Out Maria's window

We bought some of the sweetest pineapple I've ever eaten

By mid-afternoon we were in Kindia! All of our travel and lodging arrangements were made through a man named Chico, who owns a large farm in the area and hopes to begin a tourism industry. He joined us in the village just down from our hotel and after we checked in and dropped our things, he took us out to his "Agro-Artisanal & Eco Touristic Resort".
His farm hosts the Mercy Ship's Agriculture Center, where volunteers teach the local men how to farm organically. There are acres and acres of crops, pineapples, banana trees, rice pads, you name it. There are also chicken huts, where they produce over 1,000 eggs daily, and a rabbit pen where four newborn bunnies were cozied. Chico hopes to not only grow the farm exponentially, but he plans to build an authentic African hotel (huts along a small creek), a restaurant, and an artificial beach...this guy was brimming with ideas.
He walked us around his property for hours; it was beautiful.

Chico, showing us the lay of the land

Rows of baby shoots!

Our one cheesy tourist photo (Chico's idea)

We left the ranch well after dark and our poor driver had to navigate the 9km path back to our hotel in his skinny-wheeled taxi. This "road" was mostly made up of dirt, rocks, and potholes.
Oh Africa :)
We spent the evening playing cards with Maria and Freddie, went to bed early and slept in deliciously late. Saturday we woke up to the rest of our friends arriving! They planned to spend the day on the farm with Chico, so the four of us decided to find one of the famous waterfalls we had been hearing so much about. We drove further into Kindia, and 45 minutes later we came to a beautiful tree-lined path leading up to the Bridal Veil Falls.

Le Voile de la Mariee

A tree growing at the foot of the falls

A secret stair Maria found along the side of the mountain
(I thought of LOTR the whole time, lol)

Patrick & I - so much mist!!

We spent the afternoon wading in the shallow pool beneath the falls and exploring the surrounding area, which had some beautiful nooks. Toward dinnertime we drove back to our village for a bit of a rest. Then we made our way toward the farm, where we were meant to meet everyone for dinner and a drum show. I should have made allowance for Africa time and known that we just wouldn't make it in time, but boy did we try! We spent over an hour on that wretched path in the dark and rolled into the ranch around 8:30pm. Thankfully, dinner had been saved for us and the drummers had just started! So we spent what was left of the evening having dinner and a show :)
The next morning we were all up early. Chico brought our breakfast to the hotel, we packed up, and the +14 of us set out for a hiking adventure! We were about to tackle Mount Gangan - a series of various ascending plateaus that overlooks Kindia. We found the start of the path up and were met there by a guide Chico had arranged; this guy was going to compete in the Olympics this year but was injured. The man was IN SHAPE. Let's just say he did the hike in flip-flops. No joke.

Our first look at what lay ahead...

The east portion of Mount Gangan

We began pretty optimistically: the sky was somewhat overcast, the path relatively flat. About 20 minutes into the hike we even came across a natural rock slide. Locals were doing laundry and their children were laughing and shrieking as they went down their very own water slide!

The coolest natural slide I've ever seen

Soon however, the path began to incline. The switchbacks became more steep. And then they stopped altogether. The only way was up, one step at a time.

A look down

And a dizzying look up

Thankfully we persevered, and after nearly an hour and a half we crested the center portion of the mountain. Little did we know that we were in for a treat. Two small villages were nestled up there! They graciously brought out benches for us to sit on, and gave us corn and bananas to eat. When your heart is beating 200 bpm and you're covered in sweat, that kind of hospitality can just about bring you to tears :)

The first village

Enjoying the break with our guide

Our little welcoming committee :)

Soon we were on our way back down, but not the way we came. Turns out we had come up the center of the mountain and then went west into the villages. We made a loop of sorts, descending through a beautiful green valley opposite of the waterfall at the beginning.

Single file, ladies

Sweating and sunburned but still smiling!

A view from the bottom -
we came down thru all that lush green

It turned out to be nearly a four hour round trip, but it was more than worth it. I haven't tried my body like that in awhile, and it's amazing what you can do when surrounded in front and behind by friends who are determined to do it with you!
As a final hurrah before we made our way back to Conakry, we decided to stop at the Kilissi Falls. We all hopped in the car, and at the head of the path to the falls, a few of us jumped onto motorcycle taxis for the 2km drive. Again, this is the Africa I remember - riding on the back of a boda on some rutted, pocked road with the wind blowing in your hair. I have missed that :)

A glance back at Maria!

One of the three Kilissi Falls

The girls and I, on the bridge to nowhere, lol

We took off around 5pm and enjoyed one more long, Akon-themed ride in Barry's car. The four of us made it to the ship at 9pm, just in time for a good night's rest before work Monday morning! It was a definitely a full weekend, but I'm so grateful for the chance to see more of this country that we're living and serving in. I can't do it justice, but Guinea and its people are truly beautiful.

The Three Amigos of D ward

     This week was the end of an era.
     Or at least that's how it felt to those of us working on the Max-Fax ward. Three of our longstanding pediatric patients were discharged from our unit all on the same day. In reality this is a really good thing! It means their surgeries went well and our job is done. They have transitioned to the Hope Center; a secondary building in Conakry where patients stay short-term so they can easily return to the ship for daily dressing changes. Yes, it's a good thing...
     Nonetheless, they are no longer in the hospital with us, and the ward is just not the same. They hold a precious place in our hearts, so this blog I devote to them: the Three Amigos of D ward.

     First, I'd like to introduce Lamin. I cannot say enough good stuff about this little boy - so sweet, so cuddly, so endearing. He easily won the hearts of every nurse on our ward. He and his father traveled all the way from Sierra Leone for his surgery; no small feat. He had a neurofibroma over his left eye (don't look up pictures, it's not fun). In his case, his eyelids and surrounding skin were swollen to such an extent that his left eye was literally useless - you couldn't find it in there if you tried.
     His surgery was one of the first and he came through like a champ! However, it's only after surgery that the long process of recovery begins. He and his amazing dad stayed with us for nearly three weeks post-op. Lamin endured countless dressing changes, which involved unwrapping his head and peeling away the dressing over his left eye as delicately as possible, only to clean and replace the entire bandage afresh. Sad was the nurse who had to cause his shrieks and see his little tears. But he always bounced back after a cuddle and some stickers. Such a brave boy.

How could you not love this kid...

Best papa award!

Visiting at the Hope Center

     Next is the little missy I talked about a few entries ago, the feisty one with the facial burns: her name is Hawa, and there really is no one else like her. She and Lamin hold the record for the longest child's stay in the hospital, though she beat him in number of surgeries. After the second operation she became quite a pro with the whole post-op routine, but she still made us work for every medication we gave her, lol. Thankfully her second facial graft has taken well! She is now at the Hope Center with her mama, she continues to be as feisty as ever (and tough to pin down for a picture!) but I wouldn't have it any other way...

Putting on her new mask, courtesy of Becky!

"Don't bother me while I put on my bompa, Emily"

Hawa's beautiful mama (PAT!)

     This brings us to Mamadou, a two year old bundle of awesome! If my job was just to play with this little guy all day, I would be happy in my work :) He and his mama were with us for nearly two weeks as he recovered from extensive facial surgery. Mamadou was born with Tessier 4 facial clefts, meaning he had slit-like openings running vertically down his cheeks from his eyes to his mouth. I've never seen anything like this.
     He came out of surgery with steri strips (small strips of very strong bandage-like tape) all over his face in every direction, holding together the work the surgeons had done. These stayed in place for nearly a week. Once they were removed the twice-a-day wound care began, which basically involved cleaning his whole face with normal saline and painting all the little suture lines with betadine. At the same time he got a major eye infection and had thick green goobers running from his eyes down to his facial surgical sites. NOT good. So we began thrice-a-day eye cleansing and ointment application. Needless to say, he was not a fan.
     But aside from these two to three daily bothers, this little man was a happy camper. He always seemed to find a way to entertain himself, whether by "reading" to himself aloud in bed, pushing stools around the ward or kicking balloons as hard as he could. I could just squeeze the cuteness right out of him.

Newly post-op, such a trooper

Sporting his new mask with sweet mama looking on

At the Hope Center, as adorable as ever

     As happy as it is that they are on their way, it is difficult to accept that they will never be on the ward again. These three little ones are such a big part of my first experiences on this ship/hospital. When I look at their pictures, I will forever see my first pediatric patients. I will see innocence and trust, resilience and bravery. I will see little miracles.

A Day on the Isle de Roume, in Photos

"We should go to the islands!"

This became the consensus last week as the circle of us girls tried to decide what to do with our Saturday off. A few groups had already ventured to the islands just across the waters from Conakry and all had met wild success. Why not us?? 

So we set out yesterday at 10am for the local fishermen's wharf, hoping to snag a good deal on a boat for the day. A young guy met us as we approached the docks, and after some smooth talking by the only French speaker in our midst, he gave us a great deal on a roundtrip reservation (which included lifejackets!). The eight of us hopped into a long, wooden beast with a small engine and said our prayers. Across the waters we went, and our eyes met a most enchanting sight!

Here is our day spent on the beautiful Isle de Roume.

(some photos courtesy of my dear friend Hannah)

Jasmin, Beth, Hannah and Pat, sportin' the life vests!

My seat buddy, Jen :)

Petra and Kathy, sitting up front

A look back at Conakry's coast

Water seeping in? No problem - Jasmin is on it, haha

Passing the Isle de Kassa

Our boat, waiting in the shallows of Roume

Crossing the island, oh how I've missed green!

Five minutes from one side to the other. Perfect.

The local restaurant and hotel, closed for rainy season. 

Our boat driver (life vest) and our " island guides"

The beach - all to ourselves

It was like a paradise forgotten; beautiful in it's unkempt nature.

Our first view of unadulterated shore

I love this sound (can a picture invoke sound?)

Our little plot of happiness for the day :)

Waves

Not too hot, not too cold. Perfect day in perfect waters.

Hannah, Beth and Jen, soaking up some rays in all the best ways

To our right

And to the left

Skies so blue

Trekking back across

I couldn't get enough of the greeeeen

Pat and our favorite type of tree in Guinea

Departing from the other side of the island

Jen and Beth!

Hannah and I, sun-kissed and smiling :)

Finding Community

Community has been a theme onboard the ship recently, and it's a concept near and dear to me. When we first set out for Mercy Ships my biggest fear wasn't living in Africa. (I've done that before and really loved it) Nor did I feel apprehension about the patients, their surgeries or my ability as a nurse. My biggest fear was that I would not find community. 

Sounds silly, right? After all, isn't this ship basically a floating community?? 

While that may be true, becoming part of a community means more than just being in close proximity to others. It's having the "I don't just live by you, I do life with you" mentality.

Community, in my mind, suggests intentionality.

Because it all boils down to cultivating genuine relationships: 

with my husband, my family, my friends, and the Lord.

This has been something that Pat and I have sought ever since we left Spokane. The community we had in Washington was tight-knit, and the making of a new one does NOT happen overnight. As our travels have taken us far from home, to the East Coast and now to Africa, I've realized how vital community is for me. It sounds simple, but I thrive when there is richness of relationship, and I whither when there is none.

In thinking over the past five weeks spent on this ship, I feel so blessed to count all the ways I have experienced community so far:

In the way laughter and fellowship always go hand and hand with a meal.

In impromptu dance parties with my patients, where we joyfully express what words cannot.

In reading God's Word, sharing struggles, and affirming truth with the beautiful ladies in my smallgroup.

In jogging during the wee morning hours with a small band of early risers through the quiet streets of Conakry. 

In weekly worship services, where praise is more about the Lord than about the song that is sung. 

In the still moments spent talking with my husband at the end of the day.

In the surprise and joy I hear in my mom's voice when I call her.

In prayer with my fellow nurses, banded together with heads bowed, lifting up our patients and each other before we start our shift.

I am so thankful for these opportunities to do life together. It's not always comfortable (let's face it, we're human) but I don't think it should be. Only by rubbing against one another's rough spots can we be made smooth. Only by bearing one another's burdens can God teach us how to love one another well. Only in Community can God work out the kinks in you, in me. 

And I invite that wholeheartedly :)

A glimpse of Max-Fax: stories from my hospital ward

     I feel as though I've been a bad blogger. We have now been off the coast of Guinea for one month. Much has happened. Much. And while I've tried to share about ship life and how I'm doing with this transition, so far I have shied away from telling stories from the ward. I'm not entirely sure why that is...part of me is uncertain where to start. Part of me wants to protect their privacy. And part of me is just plain overwhelmed by all that I've seen. I'm a processor, and it can take me awhile to digest what I'm thinking or feeling. And frankly, I shrink from the idea of putting their stories into words, as though that would cheapen it. Because down on the wards, it's not just healthcare: it's personal. It's heart wrenching. And it is altogether beautiful.

     But I need to start telling their stories, if only to remind myself that they happened. That for a moment, my life and their lives crossed paths. And though we are credited for changing them, they changed me too.

     My ward of the hospital is known as Max-Fax. We generally care for maxillo-facial surgery patients, which generally refers to cleft lip and palates, and tumors of the skull or jaw. The first week on the ward, I had a little old man with a large tumor to the right upper side of his head. I will never forget the smile on this man; gaping with missing teeth and beaming with genuine joy. Though he spoke not a word of English, you could read his delight in even the most minute exchanges. Anything I said to him, he would nod eagerly and try to shake my hand. Translation revealed that he was just overjoyed to be here. He had lived with this tumor (the size of a peach) for about 20 years...that's almost two thirds of my life.
     His surgery came and when he returned, his head was bandaged up like you see in those old war movies: big thick gauze wrapped around his head and then under his chin. When he woke up, he gave one of those big toothy grins. It was almost comical. When his dressing was first removed, he held a mirror and watched intently. This was it. The big reveal.
     And with that undeniable smile he confirmed with his heart what I knew in my mind: it was good. He studied his new scalp, learning the shape of his head again, touching it ever so lightly. How that must feel, to see your body changed from carrying an ostracizing deformity to wholeness. In a couple days he was gone, returned to the village from which he came. I may likely never see him again, but I will carry him and his smile with me like a little badge of happiness on my heart.

     Another of my first patients has turned out to be one of the ward regulars. At over two weeks, she's been here almost as long as the hospital has been up and running! She is a four year old spit-fire: stubborn as all get out, dancer extraordinaire, and ready to command you to play. She is also the victim of a massive candle accident, which burned the right half of her face. Her lower eyelid and cheek had contracted and scarred in such a way that she was unable to close her eye. The plan was to do a facial flap. The surgeons would use thin layers of tissue from her neck and lateral cheek to replace the burned skin to her face and reconstruct her eyelid. I've never worked with plastic surgeons before, but they are akin to miracle workers in my mind.
     Her surgery came and went, and tada! She had a new cheek! It was amazing; this beautiful new cheek, all soft and smooth. It remained covered for a few days, as it was extremely delicate. A small drain to the side of her neck allowed any bleeding from the flap site to easily drain to her bandages. After a day of recovery and sleepiness, she was up and running around again. All looked well!
     Then about five days later, we began to notice a darkening at the suture lines near her eye, near her nose. By the next day, her new cheek was a patch of leathery black on her little chocolate brown face: the skin was too dark, too taut. Something was not right. Then came the horrible realization. There was no longer vascularization. The flap had failed.
     My first thoughts: What now?? This was supposed to work...how could it not work. What will she do now with a dead cheek?? Thankfully, the surgeons don't think this way. They made plans for surgery #2! A few days ago, they performed a full thickness skin graft . This means they literally took a wedge of skin from her right lower abdomen and created another cheek. She took this second surgery like a champ, even pointing out her new tummy battle wound from time to time. Four days later, and it's still holding. Her first dressing change is tomorrow, and only time will tell...

     There are so many more but I want to take time. I want to get them right. They deserve to be thought over. And I'm a processor, you know :)