School Retreat

The whole group getting ready to go.

 A couple of weeks ago the Junior High and High School students went on a weekend retreat.  This is an annual occurrence and is a mixture of teamwork, relationship building, worship, seeking God, and a whole lot of fun. The theme of the retreat was Freedom in Christ.

On the road

This year they went to Mahambo, a rural area about two hours north of where the ship is berthed.  The accommodations were sparse but relatively nice (that is to say that they actually had beds...there was no running water, air conditioning, and only about 1/2 an hour of electricity a day).

Here are some highlights from each of them:

Grace - "On one of the nights we had worship and a campfire on the beach.  The moon was almost full and it was a beautiful setting.  It was great to be outside, in God's creation, and off of the ship for a while."

Sitting down for dinner.

Elijah - "I really enjoyed the beach.  We got to go on paddleboards, swim, and play tackling games.  Also, there was an awesome coral reef with tons of tropical fish."

Malachi - "We got to play this really cool game where we got to try to tackle people and pick them up so that they weren't touching the ground at all.  Also, the noodles were really yummy."

Mmmmm...fish

Graces team: the 'Shady Dealers'

Everybody loves a campfire

Beach fun

Malachi spending some time alone with his Bible

Malachi's epic run

One of the Reasons

There are a lot of reasons that we serve with Mercy Ships.  The primary one is that God called us to.  Each day we come into contact with a lot of other reasons: our fellow crew; patients and potential patients; the Malagasy community...  Sometimes, though, there is a particular patient that, while no more important than
any other, signifies so strongly what Mercy Ships is all about.  Sambany is a man who has endured incredible hardship.  He came to us for free, live-changing surgery.  Dara was one of 17 crew members that donated blood to help Sambany through his 12 hour surgery.  Below is his story as written by the Canadian office of Mercy Ships (with some photos added):

Sambany’s Story

 

Meet Sambany. 19 of his 60 years have been consumed by a tumour that has slowly been growing from his neck. The tumour is now massive, it is a burden that represents 19 years of misery and disgrace.

He told us that because of the tumour, he had stopped praying. He didn’t believe that he would ever have relief.

“One year ago, I was waiting for the time, ‘When, God, are you going to take me?’ I was waiting to die. I could not do anything. Every day, I was just waiting to die.”

One day, near the end of 2014, a friend told him,

“There in Tamatave, there is a ship, Mercy Ships. You can go there and be fixed.”

He decided to take the chance and set out with his grandson, Flavy, for Tamatave.

For three days they walked and walked until they finally reached a town with a paved road. They rested there for some time and then took a four hour car ride to finally reach the port city.

Despite the odds, Sambany saw the hope, he made the journey, and he dreamed that something might actually change this time.

When he arrived at the Africa Mercy on the 21st January 2015, the screening team quickly rushed him inside for a CT scan.
It was one of the biggest tumours the screening team had ever seen.

Days of careful discussion followed as our medical team pored over his results and health condition – due to complications, it was uncertain whether Sambany would receive surgery.

After many days of deliberation, the medical team and Sambany reached a decision. Knowing the risks, they would go ahead with his surgery. Was Sambany nervous the day before his surgery? Not at all, he said

“My heart is very, very happy. I’m very happy. I’m just happy.
I know without surgery I will die. I know I might die in surgery, but I already feel dead inside from the way I’m treated. I choose to have surgery.”

Sambany was going to lose a lot of blood during his surgery and on this ship, the crew is the blood bank. A small army was called to donate blood to Sambany before, during and after his surgery.

So far, the blood of 17 people runs through Sambany’s veins! 

Although the people directly involved in Sambany’s surgery within the operating room numbered eight, the true number of people involved was in the hundreds.
The hospital staff, all the crew, the local day crew, hundreds dedicated themselves to loving one man.
Together they fought a battle against this tumour – from the prayers that were sent up to God’s ears, to our eager blood bank, to the conversations of compassion that filled our midst, all thoughts were on Sambany during his surgery.

Dara's arm getting the big poke

It was a historic moment for the Africa Mercy.

After 12 hours of surgery (around twice as long as planned), the 7.46 kg (16.45 lbs) tumour he carried for nearly a third of his life was finally removed.

When he awoke after his surgery, he said, “When I have recovered, I want to repay you (Mercy Ships), because I am very happy, because I am saved. God gave to take out my big tumour. God helped me to become like this. God saved me.”

Dara filling her unit.

Many people came to visit him. He wanted to shake all their hands.

When Sambany saw himself in the mirror for the first time, without his tumour, he said,

“I like it. I am happy.”

He will remain with the ship for many months of recovery, but today Sambany is a new man and he is happy.

Here, There, and Everywhere

We got to fly with MAF on this last trip.  I got to fly in the copilot seat!

In my position as Field Security Officer I have had ample opportunity to travel.  Many of you have likely followed some of that on Facebook.  I have posted quite a few scenic photos.  Madagascar is, indeed, a beautiful place.  What I have not been able to show you are photos of the thousands of people that have come for various screenings.  I do not feel comfortable whipping my camera out and taking pictures of those who have come seeking help, many of whom are ashamed of their conditions. 

What I can do is tell you that it has been a roller coaster of ups and downs.  I get to see nearly every patient that walks through the gates at each site.  One aspect of my role is to have command presence and ensure order.  On very few occasions have I had to even raise my voice, largely because the Malagasy people are very respectful.  In addition to keeping lines straight, the flow logical, things calm, and dealing with the infrequent dispute, I get to banter, offer a smile to those who are clearly suffering, and do my best to have Jesus shine through me.  It is such an incredible joy to see many walk away with a yellow card to visit the ship and call out in Malagasy: "I'll see you in Tamatave"!

On this last trip I also got to learn some new Malagasy phrases (not an easy language to learn) and horse around with a couple of little boys who were tired of waiting in line with their mom.  It was also the first time my Malagasy security translator/partner had been on an airplane.  He was giddy, and it was so awesome to see. 

It's not all 'ups', though.  One of the most difficult parts is telling people no.  Often it is the screening team to whom this unpleasant responsibility falls.  Sometimes, however, we have to close the lines because we have too many people and it becomes the role of security to turn people away at the gate.  It requires one to be polite but firm.  To be frank, a certain amount of callousness/emotional detachment is necessary.  While it is something that I can do - and do well - it is heartbreaking and draining.  Perhaps even more difficult to bear, however, is seeing the crestfallen look of those who waited in line with hearts full of hope only to learn that they have a condition that Mercy Ships cannot treat.  It is not due to a lack of clarity or communication on our part.  What we can and cannot treat is disseminated through various media channels prior to our arrival.  But when you hear that there is a hospital ship providing free surgeries and no one has been able to help you...

I continue to be grateful to be a part of what Mercy Ships is doing to bring hope and healing to the poor.  Our organization isn't perfect.  I don't always like it.  But what we do is incredible, and the lives changed over the years stand as a testimony to what a committed group of people can do through their efforts and the power of God.  Thanks for being a part of our journey.

Ivoloina Lemur Park

This past weekend we had an opportunity to go to Ivoloina Lemur Park and nature reserve.  It was a wonderful trip (and special festival so free to get in!).  The lemurs were cute and interesting animals.  They grunt like little pigs.  Who knew?  We also had a wonderful hike to a small waterfall and around the surrounding area.  Our guide was very knowledgeable and went out of his way to help us learn.  In addition to the lemurs we were introduced to several common things in their 'natural habitat': cinnamon trees, clove trees, vanilla plants.  We also saw acacia trees, which is the wood Roman Catholics burn for incense during mass.

Vanilla bean hanging.  It takes a lot to turn it into what we use to bake with.

Here's the kiddos with their friend Caleb, who came along with us.

Here's a clove tree.

Our guide standing next to an acacia.

We actually got to hold the Chameleons!

A jackfruit tree.

Here we are at the waterfall (water trickle...)

Mamma lemur with a baby on her back.

The local villagers make these baskets - here's just a few being transported:)

Cinnamon tree.

Ups and Downs

The first week of screening has been fantastic.  Everything has been calm and orderly.  The Malagasy people are very respectful and warm.  Official numbers are not yet available but several thousand lined up from Monday - Friday.  It has been a joy interacting with those in the line and playing with the kids...bubbles have been a crowd favorite.  Friday I got to spend time coloring pictures, making paper airplanes, and kicking a ball around with a number of the kids that were waiting to be seen at the primary screening station.

It works like this: out of the many that line up, only a percentage will be there for medical issues that we can treat (even though we've announced in several ways what we do and do not do); the are seen by a 'pre-screener' who stands at the front of the line and determines if someone is a possible surgical candidate or not;  and those that are go through the gate and then began to be formally screened inside the facility (lots of questions, an exam, patient history, etc.).  After this process they are either given an appointment card, put on the waiting list, or, unfortunately, told that we cannot help them.  This last group is given the option to spend time being prayed for.  It is heartbreaking to seem them come so far and then be ruled out for surgery but there are some things we simply cannot fix.

Whether the 'no' comes at the pre-screening station or after the full screening, it is always hard.  This is especially true when we see kids that have terrible conditions that are terminal, outside of our scope of practice, or things that simply can't be helped (e.g. cerebral palsy).

So, it's Ups and Downs: the joys of knowing that there are many who we can help and thousands more that we cannot.  Please keep me, the screening team, and all who volunteer with the screening process in your prayer - and especially those who we cannot help.  Physical ailments are hard enough in someplace like the United States.  Imagine the challenges of having a disabled child, an inoperable condition, or a terminal ailment in a developing nation with little infrastructure and very, very little by way of healthcare services.