Lessons Learned

I've learned a few things here; how to feed children, how to take care of temper tantrums, how to take care of babies.

I've also learned that children get sick.

And that when children get sick, they sneeze.

And I've learned, most of all, that when young children get sick and they sneeze, they don't know to cover their mouths. Even when said mouth is full of food.



Now if you would excuse me, I need to go blow my nose.

I've offically been in Ecuador for eleven days now!

The first week I spent Quito, the capital of Ecuador. That's where For His Children has their main base. We worked there for the week, spent the weekend exploring (and getting lost, but it's okay! We were fine!)
Then on Monday Emily, Jen and I went on a two hour bus ride to Latacunga. Five hours later we arrived at the sister orphange, sleepy yet excited.

It's all one big house here, the children in the bottom, Emily and I above. I absolutly love it here, despite spending most of today on the couch with a cold.
We'll be here till Friday, then we're back off to Quito!

The children here are wonderful and adorable! I really do love them all so much.

Wrapping Up and Gaining Speed

It's about seven thirty in the morning, my second day of work. I'm wrapped up tightly in a blanket, who knew Ecuador was this cold? The birds are singing and I think I'm the only one awake in this house. The Tias have a meeting at nine in the team house, so I’ll be heading over to help watch the kids in the Casa Sol.
I’m cold, nothing's rocking and I haven't seen the ocean in days.
This isn’t Africa!

After an amazing eighteen months on a ship in Africa, Mercy Ships and I have officially parted ways. (For good? Eh, we'll see!) May 19th I finished packing, said many goodbyes and walked down the gangway for the last time (at least, for this time.) It was hard to leave and more than once the thought "What am I? Crazy? Why on Earth am I leaving???" ran through my head, but with no time to change my flight I continued on my way.

As amazingly sad as I was to leave my floating home, I was just as excited to get to my landlocked one. Seeing my parents, brother, friends after a year and a half of absences was amazing! Everyone's grown up, gotten older, gotten taller! I was only gone for eighteen months, how much has changed!

After an wonderful (abite short) six days at home, Lauren, the young lady who is living at my house, and I set off on another plane, this time to Florida for the NEXT Conference.

NEXT is a Christian conference geared towards college age people, set up by Sovereign Grace Church. What an amazing time! There we were submerged in the word, listening to lectures by theologians such as D.A. Carson, K. Scott Oliphint and R.C. Sproul. Needless to say, I came back with a pile of books and some new additions to my iPod!

After the conference, I arrived home the first of June, unpacked, re-packed and was off again Friday morning at 4:45, this time on my way to Ecuador.

I'll be here in Ecuador for a month, working at "For His Children" an orphanage here in Quito. Emily, one of my closest friends since I was twelve, discovered this place back in 2008, going on her first mission's trip here, while I went on my first one to Africa. She's been wanting to go back ever since and finally got the chance now.
She invited me to come along and of course I jumped at the chance!

There are three houses here; Casa Vaughn, the baby house, Casa Sol, the toddler house and Casa Harlow, the house for disabled children.

We've been doing some office work, but most of our time is spent in any of the three houses. Feeding the children, playing with them, interacting and loving on them. I had three different babies fall asleep in my arms, just in my first day of work!

I've been here in Ecuador for almost five days, today's my second day of work and already I know that, while it will be hard, I'm really going to love it here.

Day 497 or The Nose Job

One of the many benefits of living on a hospital ship in Africa is that during field service, the hospital lets us come down and watch surgeries. It’s all carefully done, of course, with sign up sheets, scrubs, mask, shoe coverings and sometimes goggles.

Last year I got to watch both cataract surgery and pterygium sugary. Cataract is when the lens inside your eye because cloudy. They take it out and replace it with a small plastic disc. Pterygium is when the white of the eye begins to grow over the iris and has to be cut away.

After seeing surgeries on eyes, I figured I’d be set for anything.

I was wrong.

I arrived, right on time and after a few last minute things, was brought into the sterile hallway. Alex checked the three rooms currently running and found the last one to be ready for visitors. The room was cold, air conditioning going strong, and the whole thing felt as sterile as it was. The table was covered with blue fabric with one slit in it, exposing a small, thin leg. There was a new cut down the middle where the ball meets the heel. One of the nurses explained to me that the foot was stuck in an unnatural position and needed to be moved. They also were going to take a tendon out of their ankle. I watched as they made the second cut, then, after locating the percises one, began to pull the tendon out of his/her leg. Pull. The pure white tendon. It had only been a few minutes before that I had noticed that I no longer was cold. I wasn’t even cool. I was in fact, quite hot.

I let myself out with the lame excuse of “I think I’m going to see what are in the other rooms.”

After a few minutes of standing in the hall, I was joined by one of the nurses. At first I thought she was coming to check on me. Instead she leaned against the wall and put her head down. We talked for a few minutes, neither really understanding why we couldn’t handle it.

I excused myself once more, though I felt better knowing I wasn't the only one.

After a coffee and a bit of reading, I decided to try again. I went back to the OR, back on went the hat, back on went the mask and boots. We got to the hall again and Alex said “Do you want to see the head surgery?” Maybe that was a bad idea. I agreed anyways.

We walked in, the cold air greeting us once again. The patient, a young woman, lay sedated on the table, tape over her eyes, an air pipe in her mouth and a four by four inch square of her skull exposed. They had made two slits and folded it back to work. They had already done most of the drilling and as I walked in, they finished and pulled out a chisel. The nurse explained to me that they were going to take a layer off of her skull and put it in her nose. A layer of her skull and put it in her nose!

Apparently this young woman had come to the ship in 2002 for issues with her brain not being the right place. Mostly being inside her skull. They had fixed it, but her nose had almost no support, leaving it quite flat and fleshy.

The anesthesiologist told me that if I moved to the opposite side of the room and stood on the stool, I’d be able to see more. The view was amazing. From this side, I could see that they had made about a two inch slit down her nose, starting about where the eyebrows meet, like a gapping mouth between her eyes. The doctor tried out the bone, sliding it through the slit and down her nose. Examined it, then took it out to be trimmed. He shaved it down, trimming and smoothing, then slide it back in. Pleased with how it looked, he pulled it back out and began asking the nurses for equipment I had never heard of.

Allison started doing something I didn’t understand, pushing a thin metal screwdriver into and out of a plastic box. I then realized she pulling out screws, tiny tiny screws. A small piece of metal they called a plate, but looked to me like the metal version of those rubber bands they use in the orthodontist, the long ones they use to connect all the teeth together, was passed over and he screwed it to the top. He then placed it in the nose once again and screwed it to the bone. About that time I looked at the doctor. He was concentrating hard, completely unaware, or maybe he just didn’t care, of the shreds of bone that covered his shirt and the blood that smeared across his stomach.

He went back to the top of the head and cut a thin sliver of the flesh underneath and pushed it too into the hole in her nose. The stitches were passed to him and he tied the newly moved flesh to the inside so that it wouldn’t move. He then moved back to the head and began to stitch it up. One stitch in the corner, tying it all together, then three single stitches down either side. He then asked for the stapler and put six staples up one side and seven down the other.

He moved back to her nose and stitched up her nose. Allison squirted a goop that reminded me of marmite and smeared it across the staples and stitches in her head. Which of course led to an interesting discussion of “Which food item does this remind us of?” The answers were carmel, marmite and nutela.

I took one last look around the room, the tools spread out, the rags with the blue strip that show up under x-rays, the clothes and the staff. One last look at the girl, the flat nose now stood up with a pretty little tip, the tape over her eyes and the staples down her head. I thanked the staff for letting me watch, then I left.

Day 475 or Part One

This is the offical statment that Mercy Ships has released to the public involving the screening.



Mercy Ships is deeply saddened by the tragic events that occurred today during medical screening at the Freetown National Stadium when a crowd stormed the gate resulting in several injuries and one life lost.

Mercy Ships personnel working at the site attended the injured and accompanied them to local hospitals.

"Our hearts and prayers are with the individuals and families of those affected by today's events. The occurrence of this incident in the course of activities intended to restore lives is tragic. We move forward with tremendous sadness, but great determination, to assist as many people as possible in the next ten months," stated Mercy Ships Founder, Don Stephens.

Mercy Ships exists to serve the forgotten poor and has served Sierra Leone five times over the past two decades, also helping establish two land-based health care facilities. For the next ten months, Mercy Ships will be providing surgeries for qualified patients while working alongside the Sierra Leonean Government to support its five-year healthcare plan and strengthen the functions of the national health system.



Please keep the people of Sierra Leone and the Mercy Ships crew in your prayers, not just today but in the months to come.

Day 449 or On Our Way Once Again!

After five months, three false starts and lots of fun times, we're officially on our way! We've left the port behind and are now on our way to Cape Town for a full refilling, which will be anywhere from twenty-four, forty-eight to any amount of hours you can imagine! We started leaving about eleven this morning and have been sailing for about six hours now. I'm glad to say that my stomach still seems to love sailing as much as I do, something I am very thankful about!

Here are some pictures as we left South African Shipyards, our home for the almost half a year.

The dilapidated old boat that rot- ehem, I mean lived next to us.


Our lonely little gangway that we left behind.




The helicopter that came and picked up the pilot. When we come in and out of port, the port will supply a pilot to navigate though the waters in port. They don't however want to sail with us, so South African Shipyard had a helicopter to pick and drop him off!



And the answer to last weeks quote was Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, quote said by Trillian.

Day 439 or Probability Factor of 1 to 1

Five to one against and falling. Four to one against and falling. Three to one. Two. One. Probability factor of one to one. We have normality, I repeat, we have normality. Anything you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem.

For those of you who were not aware, the last four and a half months our crew have been divided between those who were living on the ships, such as engineers, deckies, half of food service and other such people and those at Appelsbosh, such as teachers, families, bankers and others. Appelsbosh is a small abandoned college campus about three hours drive from the dock.

In preparation for our (hopefully) soon departure, the Appelboshians have returned!
There are people everywhere, all the time! We've gone, in the span of about less than two weeks from 80 to 120. Then in about two days the numbers jumped to 300!(And for those of you who are wondering, yes the dining room is slightly overwhelmed, it's okay, we'll get used to it! ...Someday...)

We've begun running the generators!!!! That means:

Lights;
Over the whole ship! All the time! Which means that wandering around late at night gives you the distinct feeling that you get when you've gone to get a glass of water at about midnight and have found someone has left the kitchen light on. Only you can't turn these off. Plus hallways now feel like day as apposed to small unlit caverns.

Dishwashers;
See previous blog entry.

Heaters;
To keep the food warm! As apposed to previous months when the hot food was kept upstairs till the last five minute to preserve internal temperature, (which resulted in a slightly panicked desperate attempt to put all food away and ready in five minutes while a long line of hard working guys stared at you with painfully hungry gazes.) We now can have to food down and ready! (Before the stares become unbearable.)

And, best of all

Air Conditioning;
I'm just going to say it again; AIR CONDITIONING!!!! My chocolate is now SOLID! I no long eat it with a spoon! Fans are obsolete! I have to use a REAL BLANKET if I don't wish to freeze! Ah, I never realized how wonderful the thick weight of a blanket feels when you climb into bed. (And being on top bunk, I literally mean 'climb'.)
Warm showers are now nice and welcomed. Pajamas are no longer despised because you no longer believe they are attempting to smother you in your sleep!

Things that will hopefully be up and running soon: Crew Galley, ice machines, the hospital and the library.

Things are coming back to normal. There is always someone awake, no matter what time it is. Children are running around, just this morning I had to dodge a remote control car. Dining room's full. Nurses are everywhere. Reception is now manned at all hours.

I've really enjoyed these last couple of months. I've enjoyed being a minority in a very small crew. I've enjoyed the atmosphere. I've enjoyed doing thing differently, because doing things the normal way isn't a option. I've enjoyed spending lazy weekend days in the IT office, the only air conditioned room I'm allowed access to.
Getting to know people I didn't before. I've enjoyed being surrounded by engineers and deckies, listening to conversations on things such as reactors, survival plans, alternate energy ideas, string theory and indestructible wedding rings.

But I'm really enjoying things returning to normal. The feeling of being part of something so big, bigger than just me. People everywhere, things going on. And before we know it, we'll be sailing!


Oh, and a cookie to who ever correctly guesses the quote at the beginning!

Day 431 or So Much Time...

Sometimes I amazed at how much time has past since I've been gone, since the day I left. Yeah, there are things that I missed, my brother turning both fourteen and now fifteen, Christmas (which felt like it never happened), friend's birthdays, winters, all gone.

I'm amazed at how much I've seen and done. I've sailed three times, once across the equator and once around the Cape of Good Hope, I've celebrated Christmas in both Tenerife and Swaziland, watched eye surgeries, meteor showers, held children in my arms who's lives have been changed by the surgeries that Mercy Ships provides. I've stayed up way to late with friends, hung out in African markets and orphanages, spent more hours in the dish room than I care to count.

I've done so much in only fourteen months.
Somehow I feel as though it's a very long time that's passed by very quickly.

Four months left, then I'll be on my way back to the states. That to me is just mind blowing.I'm so happy here, I can't really imagine anything else.
Somehow, I think in the back of my mind, I still expect to go home and it will be November 19, 2009.
Funny that.

Day 421 or Progress in the Dining Room!

Since we've been here in ship yard, our numbers on ship have dropped down to about seventy core members. Because of that, we've only been using about half the dining room, one line and (worst of all!!! But because of a small amount of power) have been washing all the dishes by hand!

After spending about four months with such a small group, it's been lots of fun watching as the people slowly branch futher and further into what used to be unused territory. We'll still quite short compared to our usual numbers, but it's fun to watch it gradually fill.

Today was the first day we've begun using both lines and boy was it nice to not have a que out the door! (Okay, so there aren't any doors there, but we were half expected someone to climb out the window!) We've finally had to adjust for the numbers!

And, most exciting of all in my opinion, we've finally got enough power to use the dishwashers!!!! And just it time! Compared to our usual 80 people, at lunch we've been serving up to 120! During field service, our lunch time numbers will be in the six hundreds!

It's been fun watching the dining room slowly return to normal.

Oh, and in case you didn't know, I'm really excited about the dishwashers!!!

Day 408 or A Late Thanksgiving Post!

Well, this post has been late in coming, but it's here!

Thanksgiving is purely an American/Canadian holiday. Well, of course right? It's a celebration of the Pilgrims in America. It's amazing how many time someone would say "Thanksgiving, what's that?" And I would think "What's that? Thanksgiving??? What do you- Oh. Right. Not American. Alright, Thanksgiving is..."

Thanks to our amazing galley staff, we had a Thanksgiving feast worthy of any American home. Turkey, mashed potatos, gravy, sweet potatos, pie, just like Mom would make! (If your Mom cooked for ninety people that is!)

We decorated with tableclothes, flowers and wicker balls. The entire crew gathered to celebrate. A brief discription of the holiday and it's meaning, plus, special thanks to Larry, a reading of George Washington's Thanksgiving Prayer.
Which you can read here
http://www.earlyamerica.com/earlyamerica/firsts/thanksgiving/thankstext.html

Day 371 or Work

Somedays I love to work.

I'm not going to lie, somedays the last thing I want to do is work. Sometimes it's seven in the morning, I'm leaning against the counter watching bleary-eyed as people shuffle in like zombies from a bad b movie, complete with moans as they scoop up their breakfast. I think longingly of the bed down stairs and how I'd much rather be sleeping then watching people stare blankely at the food, their brains to tired to figure out what they want or even why they're there.

Other days, like today, I'm working hard to clean the glass doors, spraying and wiping, the paper towels turning as black as the road outside and yet the streaks still remain. Chuck walks by and comments that I should use newspaper. I decide to take him up on his offer and spend the next little while on a search for papers, which I was successful in.

Spraying down the door and wiping, the difference is clear, quite literally actually.
I've got my iPod, my musics playing, the doors are getting clean. I'm on such a roll, I nearly forget about break. When I'm done, I do the other doors on the other side. I'm so overcome by this breakthrough in cleanleness that I trek upstairs, attacking the glass upstairs.

I quite happy wiped away till I realized I had run out of paper and was forced to stop. A short break, then begin work in the dining room.

I don't always like to work, but sometimes there is nothing quite as satisfying.

Day 366 or One Year Ago Today

Can you believe it? It was a year ago today that I set foot on the ship I would soon learn to call home.For my anniversary, I decided to do a year in pictures, with each picture representing a month on board! Let's begin, shall we?


November '09 - Benin, Field Service



December '09 - Tenerife, Yearly Maintenance - The lovely girls of cabin 4418



January '10 - Tenerife, Yearly Maintenance - The fountain when you first get off the
dock



February '10 - Togo,Field Service - Marianna and Dag, part of the dental team



March '10 - Togo, Field Service - Outreach Program



April '10 - Togo, Field Service - Young girl we met at the hospitality center where patients go to finish their recovery



May '10 - Togo, Field Service - Girls dancing at the Fishing Village Church



June '10 - Togo, Field Service - Me, all prepared to go and watch eye surgery



July '10 - Togo, Field Service - FanIce man sleeping



August '10 - The sail from Togo to South Africa - Deck Seven



September '10 - South Africa, Maintence - The luggage of all those leaving for Appelsbosh



October '10 - South Africa, Maintence - Birds at the Umgeni River Bird Park



November '10 - South Africa, Maintence - Leaving the dry dock

Day 347 or Pictures!

Here are some pictures of a South African dry dock!



Side(ish) view of the ship.



Dry dock worker.



Trever working hard at keeping the deck clean from the super fine sand-blasting silt.



The base of our all important moving crane. I have no idea what we would do without it!

Day 259 or I Need...

The other day I saw a shirt that read 'I need Africa more than Africa needs me'.

It's true.

Africa doesn't need me. The moment I leave, someone else will step into my place. I am not the only yovo, I will not single-handedly change this continent. I will quickly be forgotten, no more than a passing memory. I am replaceable and forgettable.

But Africa is not. In my time here I have quickly grown to love it. It is somewhere that I will hold inside of me till the day I die.

Every time I leave the dock, I am struck by how much I love this country and in turn, ths continent.

The dust blown up by the wind, the palm trees above me. The people, thoses that smile warmly and those that stare with haunted eyes. Children playing in their torn clothes, babies crying and mothers cooking food.

The crowds in the market, everyone one yelling and talking and working. It's an overpowering force of sounds and smells and people. Venders shoving things at you, bartering for the 'best' price. The stacks of fabric that seem to wait to fall. Women getting their hair braided, men sleeping on their motercyles.The honking horn of the fan ice man, the calls of 'Etsi!' from the girls selling bags of water. The stacks of merchendice high upon their heads.

The smell of gas and smoke and dust as the cars and motercycles drive past. Families of five on zimmies and eight people in a five seater cars.

Broken down buildings or maybe half built. Faded paint, crumbling walls. Fofo's cooking, everyone waves. Maybe you just want to buy some bread. The goats are in the street and the cars scare them away. Watch the men pulling in their nets, maybe tonight they'll get to eat.

Africa has changed me and I believe for the better. It touched something deep inside of me and I am not who I once was. My heart has fallen for this beautiful place and I'll never be the same.
And maybe because it changed me, maybe I can help. Maybe I can help make a change for the better.

Day 235 or What If?

Since getting here to Mercy Ships, I've been doing a lot of thinking. I've found that being here is strengthening my faith, but not in the way that most people would think. I grew up in a wonderful Christian home, something I am very thankful for. A close knit Church family and being home schooled meant that I lived in a very small world.

Since coming to Africa, I have learned so many things, things about the world, things about people, things about me. As I spend time with people, I learn about them, their lives, their beliefs. And as I learn about other's beliefs, I've started to question my own.

I'm not questioning what I believe, I'm questioning why I believe.

I've talked with those who believe very differently from me. And when I do, I disagree. And when I disagree, I'm trying to figure out why I do.

One of the things that I've been looking at is the way we separate our faith from our lives. The way that we chose to live out our faith, but only in the areas that please us. We tithe, we pray, we go to church. That is good. We give our Sundays to our God. But what about the music we listen to? What about the movies we watch? The things we talk about?

Gandhi once said ''I would be a Christian if it wasn't for the Christians!'' What did he mean by that? For a faith that seems to pride itself on loving one another and being merciful, that doesn't seem to make any sense. If we were to act out our faith, every moment of every day, not just on Sunday mornings, then don't you think that the world, not to mention our lives, would be a better place? Why do we take Christianity out of politics? Don't we want our leaders to exhibit love and mercy? Then we would we banish the very morals we claim to support? If we take Christianity out of our schools, then what will we teach? If we take Christianity out of our movies, then what will we see?

Why would we separate our lives into sections, those which we will live by God's rule and those which are our own? Didn't we give God all our heart? Then why do we insist on blocking him out from our day to day life?

I believe that if we tried to live the way we believe, every day, every moment, every aspect, then maybe we won't claim the title of hypocrites.

Day 199 or The Dress Ceremony

Ward B. Beds on either side, chairs in front of them, filled with patients and crew, all here to celebrate with the newly healed women.
The steady flow of the air conditioning rocks the multi-colored paper chain hung from the ceiling. Coloring pages, the ladies' own artwork, hang above their beds.
We are waiting to see them. Hushed voices fill the room, English, French and Ewe. A little girl, arms wrapped around an upside down jack-in-the-box, walks in. Startled by the amount of people, she stops. Looks around. The shock on her face changes to happiness, and she skips down the aisle.
Then a sound. The sound of singing. The drums begin. The voices getting louder as the women come down the hall. We clap in time to the music and sing when we know the words.

Three ladies come in, beautiful dresses, hats, jewelery, and most of all, beautiful smiles. They, and the translators and nurses, dance down the aisle.
The dancing continues for a while. Then a speech. A woman from Mercy Ships talks about the grace of God and he's wish for us to forgive. To forgive those who hurt us, to forgive those who turned their backs on these women.

It is time for the testimonies. The first woman comes up and tells how she has been touched by the grace of God. How, because of him, she now has her life back. She can now live. After twenty-five years of VVF, she now can be free. Covering her new dress were pictures, pictures of a bird in a cage, pictures of the bird escaping, pictures of the bird free.

The second woman spoke of a hard life. Of a pregnancy that lasted long. Of passing out, and being brought to the bush, where her friends and family dug her grave. Of telling her brother that she was cold, despite the fact that she was no longer conscious. Of being brought home. Of being told to go to church, and when she was there, no one would sit next to her. They talked about her. And she never went back. Of having a second child. Of the child growing up. Of coming here, and being healed. And now she will go back to church, she will go back to church and praise the Lord. She shouldn't be able to walk, she shouldn't even be alive. But she is.

The third woman spoke quietly, softly. She didn't share much. Maybe the pain was still too fresh, maybe she was overwhelmed. She thanked God, thanked the doctors. She thanked them for ending her seven years of shame.

VVF is a very real problem in Africa. With hospitals far away, most women give birth at home. With no medicine and very little help, these pregnancies are hard and dangerous. Lasting hours, to even days, sometimes the strain is too much for the woman's body. Tearing muscle and tissue inside, they become broken. Unable to contain it, they leak urine, with no way to stop it. They become surrounded with the stench and everything becomes stained. Already trying to live with this, they become outcast, ostracized by society. No one talks to them, their husband divorces them.
In a culture where family is everything, they are alone.

These women come broken, and leave healed,praising the Lord for the life he has given back to them.

Day 184 or Six Months...

Yesterday was my six month anniversery. It was also the day I said goodbye to Kristin.

There are a lot of great things on the ship. But there are some hard things too.
Saying goodbye is the hardest thing about this ship. People come and people go, a steady stream. After a while, you get used to it. You get used to being sad and letting go. You know that you miss them, but you're okay. You can go on.
Then someone comes along. Someone so special that when they leave, it's like losing the first one all over again.

To all of my friends who ever left; I miss you, and truly hope that you are happy.

Day 179 or Ever Present Darkness

What is voodoo? Well, your opinion varies depending on what culture you live in.

If you've grown up in a western culture, then voodoo is something seldom talked about, and no one believes. It still lives there though, hidden under different, careful names, things such as Ouija boards, horoscopes and other such 'harmless' things. The western world turns a blind eye, claiming it doesn't exist, while gently feeding it in the shadows.

The differences between that and the the world of Africa is stunning. Voodoo is everywhere. A walk down the street and you see it. You see it in the pig, hooves bound till they seize up, thrown in the back alley. You see it in the string, tied around the baby's belly. It's the fear in some one's eyes when you pull out a camera. It's the deep, dark scars carved onto their faces, desperate rituals. It's in the masks that you see in the market. Smooth wood, some calm and peaceful, some leering, horrific and twisted. Their lives are controlled by that which they hate and fear.

When you can, pray for those who's lives are so deeply entwined and pray for us, as we try to reach and heal them.

Day 137 or What is it Like to Travel in Africa?

So you want to go somewhere in Africa? Why not take a taxi!

An African taxi isn't like the ones you get in the states. First of all, the American taxi drivers won't appreciate you trying to barter your way to a lower price. A common practice in Africa, but frowned upon in places such as New York.

Then there is the issue of space. You could be enjoying a nice ride with just two or three of your friends. In that case, space isn't a problem. But it's not that uncommon for there to be three people in front and four in the back! Or even five! After all, what's the purpose of laps? And if you have an open trunk, then hey! Why not throw a couple people back there? So far, I believe the record has been ten in a five seater taxi!

Once you've gotten everyone in, the price negotiated, then you're ready to go! And don't bother with the seat belts. If they actually do have them, then there is a good chance that they don't have buckles.

As the car begins to pull out, you begin to have an idea of what you just got yourself into. Truck? Truck? Oh, don't worry. If you go fast enough, I'm sure you can get into a lane before we get HIT!

With congested traffic, zimmy-johns (motorcycle taxis. Twice the craziness, half the protection.), and random people running across the lanes, it is quite a skill to drive. Lanes are just suggested guidelines and it's not uncommon for the taxi to dash across an opposite lane, or no lane at all, simply to get ahead of the car in front.

I have found that it is best not to look out the front window at all. If you do, then you will notice little details, such as the person running right in front of you, the motorcycle just a little to close, or the large semi-truck barreling straight towards you. It's better to just look out the side window at the people on the sidewalks, the buildings, the beaches, the very large and deep ditches that you are much to close too. Things such as that.

But I will say that despite the craziness of an Africa Taxi, they seem pretty tame once you've taken a zimmy-john!

Day 118 or Screening Day

In the past we've done one or two big screening. Because of the elections, we've changed that this time, with many smaller screenings with any where from one to six hundred people.

I signed up for this past Thurday. My time began on Wensday night, when I managed to fall alseep at one, only to wake up at two. Why, I have no idea. All I know is that I layed in bed till four, when I decided that was rediculal. I headed upstairs and talked to Heather, the receptionist and friend, till six. Got ready and at seven, left for my screening!

We drove for about twenty minutes till we reached Ba, the location for our screening. At seven, there was a line as long as the gate. We entered the compartment to find about twenty or so people inside who had been waiting to be seen since the night previous. Despite the fact that they couldn't have been comfertible on the cement ground, I still recived many smiles.

We were all assigned jobs, with mine being one of the three people who excorted the people either to the Data room when they were expected or the exit gate, when we couldn't help them. It amazed me how something as simple as the direction in which I walked affected how I felt. To walk with someone towards Data Entry was wonderful, and I hoped the best. But to walk towards the gate was hard and unfortanty common. It amazed me time and time again how these people would take the news that couldn't be helped. Was it bravery and courage that let them stand tall, or had they just become numb to the pain?

The people stood outside the gate where they were let in, fifteen potental paitents at a time, with fifteen more next to the gate waiting to be seen. In total we screened somewhere around two to three hundred people, with around five hundred people in lines, counting the caregivers.

To see all these people, each dealing with their own struggle. Bow legs, tumors, burns, anything, they wished for help. All dressed in their best, hoping that the doctors from a ship could help them.

People waited on the side of the gate, and as I walked those who were unable to be helped, Dulce would sweep in, like a giver of mercy, asking if they would like prayer. Many excepted, a few did not.

But there were those who's lives might be changed, who we can make a difference for, by the grace of God. And it is those for whom we are here for. The reason this ship is here is for those people who stand outside the gate, who wait all night, for the chance to be healed.