Into Africa

Yesterday, fresh water falls from the sky in massive amounts.  We are in chapel, where we are every Tuesday and Friday and Sunday morning, while we spend time in this space. The young woman, a surgeon in training here at HEAL Africa, begins to preach. Here in this place, this house of God, changes are happening, with hopes that they will ripple out across the country -- changes that bring a new idea that women have value. They have value to the church and value to the world.  She begins to read from Proverbs 31:10-31, in French.  I follow along, as best I can, in my English Bible.  My team members do, too. And then the rain pours down louder, like bullets on the metal roof -- perhaps not the best  analogy to use in this war torn country.  Then a loud pop of a transformer blowing echoes across the room.  Water drips -- no, it drains -- through the ceiling across the room from me.  People move their chairs and scurry to find large bins to collect the rain.  Now, I see water washing d

It has been days since I posted last – not because I don’t have anything to share, but rather, because words have been hard to come by AND we have been without internet.   I feel very far from home right now -- much farther than I did before.   The days continue on, the sun rises, the sun sets, people come to the HEAL hospital looking for hope, and many find it – cleft palates repaired,   thyroid goiters removed, and infections treated. We see a baby with a terrible chest wound, a woman with a large arm tumor, a man with cancer, who will not have access to chemotherapy, a mother with HIV and TB.   Some leave with the same problems they came with, and others never leave, other than leaving to go Home. Top view of new construction, in front of current patient ward.   View from the third floor of one of the patient wards, towards the out patient waiting area. Side view of construction work at the hospital. Wood pole scaffolding. My senses are assaulted with sight

Tuesday — a bit jet lagged, but enthusiastic and dressed in OR scrubs, we drive from where we are staying, at Maji, to the HEAL Africa hospital.  Our transportation back and forth is in a vehicle marked ambulance, although in Eastern Congo, rarely are ambulances used. The vehicle is sometimes used for the rare transport of very sick patients.  It’s not that sick patients are rare -- they’re not -- it’s just that people usually don’t come to the hospital via ambulance, if they are able to come at all. Riding in the ambulance to HEAL Africa. The road is paved for most of the way, a huge improvement over the past years.  Four wheeled and two wheeled vehicles dart in and out, dodging one another daringly, like dragonflies.  Near the hospital, the road turns to dirt with a predominance of pot holes. The sound of horns and motors and people is in surround sound. Our first day starts out with a worship service at the chapel, called the "Tabernacle," on the grounds of HEAL

Maji Matulivu — it means Still Waters in Swahili.  It’s where I sit tonite, on the shore of Lake Kivu, in the Eastern Congo.  It is the home of our host and the extraordinary doctor and founder of HEAL Africa, Dr. Jo Lusi.  Last night, we arrived in Kigali, Rwanda, via Amsterdam, from Chicago, and now we are in Goma.  We are a traveling team that consists of my husband, Todd, a Plastic Surgeon, my oldest daughter, Mary Ella, two General Surgeons, Marc and Chris, a Family Practice doctor, Steve, and his son, Tom, and a board member for the  HEAL Africa  organization, Jack. Marc began this journey to Goma, on his own, 21 years ago, and has been instrumental in helping found HEAL Africa, coming yearly, teaching surgery and actively involved on the board.  Chris and Todd have come many, many times to help teach surgery and to encourage the staff here, too.  And for some of us, it's our first time.  It is my first time here. Today, we traveled in a bus-like/van-like vehicle,