Stateside

I'm home! I'm tired, as I expected I would be, and not super motivated to get through all the things on my to-do list today. In fact, I haven't even ventured outside, but that may be denial in action as I come to terms with 5 degrees instead of the 88 degrees I got pretty used to this past month.

The good-bye was tearful as we boarded the SIL plane to begin the first leg of the journey back to Minnesota. Many of our colleagues and friends, and even Saliou's father, were at the airport to see us off and as I hugged Remi and William goodbye, I missed them already. In a few short weeks, I had not only grown to respect and admire them and the work they do so well, I had grown to love them as friends and brothers. I expect another trip to Ngaoundere will be in my future, to go back and see Remi and William, and so many others who have become a part of my life now.

Saliou's father at the airstrip

L to R: Emmanual, Duoada, Bouta Lambert, Saliou's father, William, Me, Remi

The SIL plane touches down in Ngaoundere.

As we waited for Darryl, our pilot to arrive at the airstrip, we were all pretty nervous that he would be able to actually fit all 5 of us and our luggage in this pretty tiny plane. As the plane appeared into view, and I saw how really small it was, I got even more nervous. Darryl weighed EVERYTHING, and we snuck in a few kilos under the limit, and then he magically fit the bags into nooks and crannies, and we got on board. A few last minute instructions about where the machete and emergency satellite phone could be found in the unlikely event that we would be making an "unscheduled" landing, (which only made me wish I had brought some ativan with me) and we were off! It was soooooooo fun!

Coming to Yaounde

Me with Darryl, the pilot, AFTER our smooth and safe landing in Yaounde. It's the first flight that I have been on where the pilot gathered us in prayer before taking off. I was cool with that! And that was before I was instructed on where the machete was located in case of an emergency. 

A view of Yaounde from the lower part of the city.

We were picked up at the small SIL airport (also the Cameroon Air Defense Station) by Felix, the driver who got Jared and I around Yaounde safely on our arrival a month ago. He was wearing his heavy, green, wool army suit, and smiling big. He brought us to Anne and Willie Landgi's, the ELCA Mission coordinators in Yaounde, to hang out until we had to catch the flight to Paris at 11:30 PM. It gave us a chance to take a nap, repack our luggage, have dinner. Felix came back in the evening and proceeded to get us through all 8 or 10 security check points. I think we'd still be there, bribing people to get on the airplane if we didn't have Felix. Everyone at the airport knows and loves him. It was like traveling with Moses through Egypt.

The road outside Anne and Willie's house. This is a totally typical scene, people walking with huge and heavy loads on their heads, like this lady with the suitcase. They must have the strongest necks and backs! 

The view from the other direction from Anne's home. Anne and Willie's home is surrounded by a 12 foot high concrete wall with barbed wire along the top and they employ a 24 hour security guard. Safety and security is really a concern. 

I thought this final posting would have more to it, but I'm finding I'm just kind of depleted today. Pictures are maybe the better way to end. I think back to over a year ago when I came home from a frustrating day at work and happened to read an article in the New York Times by Nicholas Kristof about healthcare in Africa. It was then that the idea that it was time to leave my comfort zone and see something different registered. It's been a series of conversations and connections and timing, on and off and on again, that culminated in what I would count in the Top 5 Most Significant Experiences of My Life.

Luck. Fate. Destiny. Blessings. Gratitude. Peace.

The door is shut and the plane pulls away.  With tears and smiles, I wave until I can no longer see the bright yellow and blue spots that are Remi and William.

Less than 24 hours now

My roomies, Karen and Donna. It's like being back in college!

The ladies and kids of the church. Remi's wife, Anasthasie, is in the red hat next to Donna and 3 of their 4 children are in front, Ghislain in the grey pants, and Lenah and Lyza in the blue and pink. 

I'm mostly organized and packed now, and I'm leaving with less stuff than I came with, but with many, many new friends, and hundreds of memories, images, and stories. We went to the Plaza Restaurant today for lunch, and as we made a toast, I said, "To new friends who feel like old friends." It's true. Everyone at the table I have known for less than a month, but we are forever connected. 

L to R around  the table: Hans Aas (finally didn't get cut out of the picture!), Martha Aas, Karen, Phil Nelson (who runs the EELC Mission Compound and lives in the house right next to ours), me, Donna, June Nelson (married to Phil and is a nurse who works  at the hospital when she's not helping Phil run the compound)

The day started out early with Donna and I joining Remi and his family at the Millenium Church where he is an elder. The church is at the edge of the compound and is huge, made from bricks from the red earth of Ngaoundere, with beautiful stained glass. One of the many choir groups came in leading the elders in song and it beautiful to hear their energy. 

Tomorrow we have one final goodbye at Chapel at 7:30, although from the sounds of the number of people who have told us they plan to see us off at the airport, I'm thinking the final, final goodbye will be as we wave out the window of the little bush plane. I am coming prepared with plenty of kleenex. I will run over to say goodbye to Saliou, who is still in the hospital, before going back home to finish up packing. 

So, my next posting will be when I'm sitting in my own kitchen, looking out at lots of snow, and trying to reorient myself to being back in Minnesota. I'm planning to take the rapid re-entry approach. Arrive in Mpls on Tuesday, back to work on Thursday. We'll see....I've asked my colleagues to have pretty low expectations for my productivity on Thursday. 

I've been looking through my pictures. Here's a few more taken over the past month:

$10 to the first person who can identify what this guy is holding. (Not really on the $10) This is an elephant hide shield that is  (if what he says is true) 1000 years old! This was at the mosque that we toured. For being such a relic, it was just kind of thrown in this anteroom, amongst skulls of cattle and antelope, a few elephant feet, and red plastic coke crates. 

Big football tournament last weekend on the compound.

On my last day, I am finally able to sneak up on a lizard and get a picture. This is a redheaded lizard (I know, self-evident but I did not make this up) and is much bigger than the one that met his untimely demise a few weeks ago. I have continued to give my poor housemate grief about that!

This lady was one of the first patients Remi and William saw about 3 years ago. She was in renal failure and wasn't expected to survive, but somehow, without dialysis, she recovered. Today she looks and feels great. She comes back to see Remi and William often. She told me, "I was as fat as an elephant!" Remi explained she had fluid everywhere.


See you in Minnesota!

Meet Justin

Last day at the hospital: The guys and I put the finishing touches on 2 applications for funding for Remi and William to pursue further palliative care education and training in Uganda, through Hospice Africa Uganda and Makerere University in Kampala. We had one last lunch at my favorite place, The Coffee Shop, (which also gave me one more unexpected ride on the motorcycle--I am going to miss that! Sorry Mom.) Remi and William have introduced me to Smirnoff Ice--kind of like a wine cooler only with vodka. For lunch. So, team at Abbott, don't be surprised next Thursday if I belly up to the round table in the middle of the office with reheated leftovers and a bottle of wine! There is definitely still the French influence going on here, and I can't say that's all bad.

Got home and Justin stopped by and then Paul Haman came a few minutes later, so I was able to finally get some pictures of them, like I've been meaning to.

Justin, Me, and Paul Haman. This is in my backyard--it's really not as lush as it appears.
We are actually standing in front of the garbage dump.

Everyone has a story, and I want to tell Justin's. Justin is 25 years old. He's the kind of guy who's outgoing and always has a smile and wave, but he's also kind of shy and softspoken. He was part of the entourage that went to the waterfalls a few weeks ago, which is when we first met, but I see him most everyday because he is employed by the EELC Mission and is the handyman/jack-of-all-trades, thus, he's my go-to-guy to replenish the toilet paper and matches, fix the water heater, etc. Justin also works whatever extra jobs whenever he can, like cleaning our house. And he's doing all this AND trying to finish his high school education by taking night classes. He had to stop school when he was 15. This will take him about 4 more years. He told me he hopes to go on to medical school someday. 

So, why does he work so hard? Well, his father died just a few months ago and as the oldest child with 9 younger siblings, he is now the head of the household. He himself was in the hospital with an abscessed tooth just before I arrived, and as I have explained before, there's no health insurance here. It's all private pay. Things are beyond tight for him.

We were talking the other day and when I asked him how school was going, he told me it's hard to find the time to do the reading, between having to get up early to walk to work and then when he gets done with school at 9PM, he has an hour-long walk to get home and then he's too tired and falls asleep. He can't really afford the 75 cents it costs to take a moto taxi home. He tells me all this very matter-of-fact. No whining. No trying to get sympathy. No asking for anything. (And it's easy to feel like a human instant cash machine here sometimes. I've had people knock on my door, holding out their health clinic record and asking me to buy their medicines for them.) I told him, "You are juggling a lot of balls in the air all at once." He smiles, agrees, and shrugs.

Donna (my housemate) and I were talking about Justin yesterday, shaking our heads over how so much can fall on one young person's shoulders, and he somehow maintains this gracious composure and resilience, and tenacity in the face of constant obstacles. But I worry about how long he can keep his head above water. You can't help but want to help, especially for a guy who's so sweet, but what would be most helpful for him? As I've mentioned in a previous blog, Donna lives in Sturgis, motorcycle heaven, and her husband is a motorcycle mechanic. They'll both be coming back to Ngaoundere in about 18 months, and they have talked about possibly being able to raise some money and be able to go with Justin to buy a used motorcycle when they return, so he can get around faster and easier, and be better able to take care of his family. This would be a huge thing. Having this possiblity in his future might get him through some tough days. I'm signing on. 

Justin

February 24th

I was a bit late in getting to the clinic today, overslept, having weird dreams, just a slow-moving morning. Today is home visit day, and we usually try to get out fairly early because it gets so hot by midmorning. As I'm approaching the clinic, I catch a brief glimpse of Remi waiting outside the office and I think, "Oh no, I'm holding them up and he's out wondering, where the hell is Kerstin?" So I pick up the pace and rush in to the office, and the first thing I see from the doorway is 6 legs behind the exam curtain at the back of the office, then Remi and William and Donna jump out and start singing Happy Birthday with much more gusto than I could ever muster at 8:30! I am laughing and red and we do a group hug. They are so sweet! 

It was fun to have Donna from Global Health Ministries along on home visits today. Remi and William had to put up with a lot more chatting and stopping to look at stuff than they're used to.  At one point as we were off the bikes and winding our way through very narrow paths and alleys to get to a patient's home, and Donna and I are chatting away. I notice William holds back so he can bring up the rear behind us and he explains that "good men don't leave their women behind, or they might turn around and find they are gone." We are well cared for here! Donna lives in Sturgis, SD, home of the famous Sturgis Rally. Her husband is a motorcycle mechanic, among many other things, so she's at home on the back of a bike. We stopped for gas and started taking pics of each other, her behind William and me behind Remi and I said to her, "We're motorcycle chicks," and she says, "We're the bitches on the back!" She knows motorcycle lingo. 

Tonight, Karen, my housemate, made a feast of meatballs and boiled potatoes, fresh croissants from Solange, the baker, and her new favorite creation borrowed from Jacalyn, avocados stuffed with chopped tomato marinated in fresh lemon juice. I am becoming an avocado addict. Truly, if you haven't had an avocado right off the tree, you haven't had an avocado. Manna from heaven. (I should stop eating them now in preparation for the weigh in for the bush plane.) We had 8 of us total for the soiree--very fun!

So, it was a really nice birthday in Cameroon. Thanks for all the birthday greetings that I woke up to this morning, sent right before you all were going to bed, and for those that came throughout the day. I'm feeling pretty lucky and very grateful. 

Oh, and a political update--nothing to update really. All is calm in Ngaoundere, and it appears this was a one day thing, for now. I will certainly be following the elections this fall in Cameroon! Makes a difference to actually know and care about people here now, and know that they will be directly affected by what happens. It makes me recall a conversation I had with a man a few weeks ago on one of the walks into town with Jacalyn. He and Jacalyn were speaking French but at one point when he learned we were from America, he said, "Minneapolis Minnesota." I could understand that, of course, and I pointed to myself and said, "I'm from Minneapolis Minnesota." Turns out he has a friend who lives in Minneapolis, and I shook my head and said, benignly, "Small world." I was taken aback by his  somewhat irritated response: "Small world for those who have means," and I felt momentarily sheepish. But then I thought, no. I certainly agree that those who have money can certainly do more, see more, travel more. But it is a very small world now. The fact that I am sitting here at 11PM in Cameroon writing this, and you are probably wrapping up your day at home, and you are reading in real time about what's going on on the other side of the world, and there's hardly a person I see without a cell phone here, and there are TVs and satellites in the most remote villages, then I would argue that this is, indeed, a small world, in a very good way. I can easily continue these relationships that have so quickly developed, and keep connected to people who are now very important to me, and I am very glad about that. 

My Birthday dinner with some of the people who are now very important to me:( L to R): Kulsumi (adopted granddaughter of the Aas'), Martha Aas,  the Birthday Girl,  Karen, the chef and feast coordinator, Jacalyn, Hans Aas (mostly hidden) Yurema, who works for the EELC and is a really nice guy.

Yurema and me. 

Kulsumi and Hans. Hans is wearing his brand new, gorgeous embroidered tunic that he bought from the tailor, Aboubakar, the day we went to the mosque.

Tick, tick, tick

I am striking while the iron is hot and my computer is functional for the moment, (again eternal thanks to Daouda!!!!!) And now I can post a picture of me and the guys!

Remi, me, William outside the Palliative Care Office
(Remi taught me, what I call, their secret handshake. I'm feeling like I'm in the club now!)

As many of you have heard and have emailed me about, there were demonstrations today in some cities (not Ngaoundere) in Cameroon to protest the current President, Paul Biya. He has been in power for almost 30 years, another "President for Life" that people obviously tire of after a while. Elections are scheduled for November this year. Rest assured, we have been keeping an eye on the situation. I registered with the US Embassy before I left the states so they know I'm here and I check the State Department website daily at least, and Cameroon is still not listed on the very long list of countries they warn against traveling to. I post this only because the world is small, and information is everywhere, and when people love you, they worry, and I want to assure you all, things are calm here, and plans are on for a Monday departure.

Speaking of departures, I have a really happy update on Saliou. He will be discharged on Friday! I was able to watch his dressings being changed today, the first time since almost passing out seeing and smelling his wounds in his home 2 1/2 weeks ago. The tissue is clean, and granulating nicely (non-medical folks--this means that pink, bumpy, healthy tissue is filling in), with only a smidgeon of bone showing through. He still has a mountain to climb in terms of the wound actually closing, but today I let myself feel some hope that it will. Saliou's father (who it turns out isn't his father, but that's a long story) came to the palliative care clinic yesterday to receive instructions for discharge on Friday. Remi will continue to see him at home and do the dressing changes, which is a huge relief because Remi knows what he's doing and he will be able to act quickly if things turn for the worse.

The day ended with an evening spent at Remi's home for a wonderful dinner with his family and a friend, and William and his beautiful 7 year old daughter. I laughed so hard when I looked up at the TV and it was Bart and Marge Simpson speaking in French. I'm watching the Simpsons in Cameroon!

The group at Remi's house

Remi's super cute son, Ghislain

So many stories and pictures in my head, so many new friends who I will always carry in my heart and miss when I leave, so many old friends and family (and my cat) that I miss and can't wait to see. I want to slow down and speed up the clock at the same time.

My friendly neighborhood artist, Must, who has "new and original" work that he brings to show me about
 every other day. It really is very good, I enjoy his style. He enjoys that I am an easy sell, although I am much better at bartering these days.

Wrapping Up

I return home in less than a week! The sign of a great trip: You can't wait to go and you can't wait to get home! But it will be hard to leave. I told my sister in an email yesterday that I had this pang in my heart as I walked up to the Palliative Care office yesterday and saw William doing the morning sweep of the perpetual dust out of the office and I thought, "Oh, I am going to miss him and Remi so much!" It will be odd to go to my real job and they won't be there. Shannon responded back, "I can tell that Cameroon has got it claws in you." Claws sounds a bit violent, but I would agree, I think I'm a bit hooked.

Yesterday was a very good day! One of the things we have been working on together is figuring out how Remi and William can take this program to the next level. It is clear that they need to pursue more formal education in Palliative Care and receive the credential that will make them the recognized experts in this region. It will also allow for Protestant Hospital to become a clinical training site for other palliative care students. Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda, offers an 18 month long distance learning diploma program for Remi, and several short courses for William in counseling and training. As always, the universal challenge would be funding. We are exploring some scholarship opportunities through Helping Hospices in the UK, and other places and putting applications together before I leave. We met with the CEO of the hospital system yesterday, Dr. Salpou, to review the "state of the palliative care program" and what is needed for ongoing support. The most gratifying development was to get a commitment from the administration to support Remi and William's salaries while they are away for their short stints in Uganda. This is huge! Usually, when staff goes away for continuing education, they do not collect their salaries, making it a very difficult sacrifice for them and their families. The 3 of us left Dr. Salpou's office with big smiles!

So, just an FYI, the pineapple juice spill on my computer continues to cause problems. I am using Remi's computer right now, but I may be limited in my ability to post much more, which really bums me out. Douda, the IT wizard, is looking at it right now, and he is a genius, but we'll see. I really wanted to post a picture of Remi, William and I together. I call us the Mod Squad.

So, the schedule for the rest of the week, in case this is my final post while here:
Wednesday: work with Remi and William and then at the end of the day, a hike up a different mountain with Jacalyn, The Adventurous.
Thursday: My birthday! And there is a big party planned by my pals. Karen is going to find ground beef, (this has been like the search for the Holy Grail for her) and make her famous meatballs and boiled potatoes. Kalsumi, who is the adopted granddaughter of Hans and Martha is coming too and she is going to make Krumkake. Yes, this is going to be a Cameroonian/American/Norwegian birthday party. If I can't be at home with my family, then I can't think of a better way to celebrate!
Friday: a final good-bye lunch with Remi and William. : (
Saturday and Sunday: who knows....Pack up stuff and make sure I don't weigh too much, luggage and body, to get on the bush plane on Monday.
Monday: take off in the SIL Bible Translator Plane to Yaounde. Spend the day resting and relaxing at the EELC Mission House and then our flight to Paris leaves at 11:35 pm.
Tuesday: Land in Minneapolis at 1pm!
Wednesday: Sleep, sleep, sleep.
Thursday: Return to Abbott. Wow. Seems weird....

It helps to have friends in high places

Another fun weekend! Started out with the power in the entire city being turned off at 8am on Saturday. I guess they do this every few weeks to do repair work, but there isn't any announcement. It just happens and everyone just sort of adjusts accordingly. Soon after, the water went off--dry pipes. Nothing. Luckily, we always keep a few gallons of filtered water in the fridge and there is a community well just across the street with unfiltered water that was built by the missionaries. For many people in the surrounding area, in and outside of the compound, this is the primary source of all their water, i.e. no faucets to turn on, no indoor plumbing, and they walk long distances with large jugs and tanks early in the morning to fill up for the day. Although power came back about 3PM, the water was off until about 9AM this morning. I realized that there are varying levels of "water luxury": being able to drink from the tap is something I'll never take for granted again. It occurred to me that the indoor plumbing we have here in the compound, although you can't drink from the tap, is still very luxurious compared to most people who live in Ngaoundere. Again, very humbling.

Karen and Donna and I went to the Petite Marche on Saturday, which is this large area of shops that tangle around through alleys and backstreets. We were warned by several people that it is easy to get lost inside.

There are hundreds of fabric shops. The colors and patterns are so beautiful. Eye candy.

The highlight of the whole weekend, and definitely on the top 5 list for my visit thus far, was the private tour of the main mosque in Ngaoundere, and being able to meet (briefly) the Lamidot, who is the leader of the Muslim community in the region; sort of equivalent to an archbishop, I think. This was really special--you don't just walk up to a mosque and ask to wander around the grounds, especially if you are a woman. But this is why it is good to know people in high places. Which it turns out, I do.

One of the first  people I met, on my very first walk into town with Jacalyn on my second day here, was Joseph, an embroiderer/tailor that works at a shop on the main road. Joseph is from Ghana and is English speaking, which was nice to be able to have an easy conversation with someone. I also met the owner of the shop, Aboubakar, who's business has been so successful, that he employs 15 people, which is pretty big here. Turns out Aboubakar  is also so successful that he is the Lamidot's private tailor.

The work they do in this shop is really beautiful and I decided that an embroidered tunic and skirt would be my souvenir for myself. It needed alterations, so I've been in the shop several times and have had nice conversations with Joseph and Aboubakar (more of a language barrier but with help from Joseph and others, it works). So on Saturday, I brought Karen and Donna to the shop, and it was really fun to be doing the introducing, rather than always being the one being introduced. In the course of the conversation between Donna, who does speak some French, and Aboubakar, he invited us back to the mosque and the Lamidot's compound today for a tour.

We knew this was a big deal, especially given women are not generally allowed in the mosque. And it is obviously a big deal to be the Lamidot's tailor, because as we walked up to the entrance, horns literally blew for Aboubakar. He arranged for one of the men there to give us a tour of the compound, including a quick bon jour and bow with the Lamidot.

Outside the grounds of the mosque and the Lamidot's compound.

The "band" that was playing as the ministers walked in to see the Lamidot. They are really loud, like your whole body vibrates from the beating of the drums. Note the guy with the loudspeaker. He is chanting/praying/etc while the men are playing their horns and drums and the whole scene is deafening.
I thought, "So you're the guy who wakes me up at 4 am everyday!"

The ministers filing in to see the Lamidot

I, of course, wore my new tunic, which was a way to thank Aboubakar for his favor to us, and a way to show off his work.

Me and Aboubakar at the mosque. Yes, I have my head covered....I would not be a good Muslim.

Below is Joseph, who actually did the sewing of my garment and the design of the embroidery. He told me he had to quit school at the age of 15 when his father left (which here means died), and though he always hoped he would get back to school, he figured out that  that probably would never happen, so he needed a skill and an occupation. He is a really intelligent guy, very sweet.
Also, that's Hans in the middle.