Sunday, April 20, 2014

Happy Easter!




Happy Easter!  We have just finished a long but beautiful Holy Week in the Church, a week which recalls the last days of Jesus before his death and resurrection.  

Palm Sunday procession.


Last Sunday was Palm Sunday.  On this day, Jesus entered the city of Jerusalem to cheers and praise from the people, who waved palm branches to welcome him.  In Mutomo, this story was reenacted during Mass.  In the morning, the congregation met outside, about half a mile from the church at the airstrip.  Carrying and waving palm branches, they processed through the streets of town singing “Hosanna in the highest!” (but in Kiswahili) before ending at the church.


  

 


Getting our feet washed.
On Holy Thursday of this week, we commemorated the Last Supper and Jesus’ act of washing his disciples’ feet.  During the service, a small group of people sat before the church while the priest washed their feet, an act of service and humility in remembrance of what Jesus did.   I was one of the people to have my feet washed… the only pair of white feet there!  We then celebrated the Last Supper with Communion.  Finally, the Blessed Sacrament was removed from the church, not to be returned until Easter… Jesus had departed.


All the services were in Kiswahili this week; luckily I found this book with all the readings in English!

Carrying the cross on Good Friday.
Good Friday is the most solemn day of the week, in which the torture and death of Christ are recalled.  It was a long day, totaling almost 6 hours in church!  We marked this event with yet another procession.  We met about two miles from the church, and carrying a large, handmade, wooden cross, made their way singing solemnly back to town.  Along the way, we made stops at different locations to hear readings describing the crucifixion.  We concluded with a service in the church, again telling the story of Christ’s death.

Our altar servers: Kennedy, Kevin, and John.

Good Friday procession.




Easter Vigil Mass.

On Holy Saturday, the climax to the week, the Church kept vigil, awaiting the return of the Lord Jesus.  The Vigil Mass began after sundown, and the church was kept in total darkness with all the lights turned out.  The people gathered outside the church holding candles, and a fire was lit: the light of Christ.  The large Easter candle was lit from this fire, followed by the lighting of the candles of the people before processing into the still-dark church.  A long line of passages was read from the Old Testament, recounting salvation history and God’s relationship with his people.  When the last reading was finished, the lights were turned on, the candles blown out, and the people all sang excitedly “Glory to God in the highest” before the Gospel story of Jesus’ resurrection was read.  With Christ’s return, the congregation then renewed its baptismal vows before continuing with Communion.  This morning, Easter Sunday, was the final celebration of Holy Week, in which we again read the story of Christ’s resurrection.  What a beautiful and fulfilling week it’s been.
Mass by candlelight.



The church all decorated on Easter Sunday.
 We finished off Easter Sunday with a celebration at the sisters' convent next door to the hospital, enjoying a meal of lamb, chicken, pork ribs, and more ice cream!

Dr. Christina, Sr. Clare, Anita, & Sr. Celestine at our Easter dinner.


Visiting with Boniface, the seminarian at our church.


Me with Joseph (theatre tech) and James (nurse anesthetist).
At the hospital we’ve said goodbye to yet another group of Rotary doctors.  Before leaving, my two Swedish neighbors threw a small party to say goodbye to some of the hospital staff.  It was a nice chance to see spend time with my coworkers without the stress of work.  We now have a new set of volunteers with us, a husband and wife: an anesthesiologist and a radiologist. 

Saying goodbye to our volunteers.
Saying goodbye to our Dutch dentist Hendrick.

Today after church I had an interesting visit with Sr. Jennifer to the home of a local resident named Samuel.  He and his wife are parents to ten children!  Jennifer, who is a teacher at the nearby primary school, is very committed to serving the poor in the community.  She noticed a while back that some of Samuel’s children were leaving school frequently during the day to go home for money.  Students here have to pay small fees whenever they take exams.  However, Samuel’s kids often didn’t have enough money even for these small fees.  Sr. Jennifer did some investigating and discovered how poor the family was.  Using her own funds, she helped Samuel buy some hens which can be used to produce eggs and more chicks.  After a rough start (all but one of the hens died of illness), the hen house has finally taken off and the farm is filled with tiny chicks, which can eventually be sold to pay for food and school fees, etc.  

Samuel with three of his younger children.



And of course not blog entry would be complete without me making some reference to food.  Lately I’ve been trying to learn to make more local Kenyan dishes.  At a recent gathering I was able to observe our priest, Fr. Francis, make ugali, the local staple.  I attempted it this past week with mediocre results... it was a bit lumpy.  It was edible, but I need some practice.  
Fr. Francis preparing ugali.

Jane at work in the kitchen.
Also a couple weeks ago I was invited to dinner at the home of James (our nurse anesthetist) and his wife Jane (a clinical officer).  Jane prepared a fantastic meal of goat stew, ugali, sukuma wiki, and a new dish I’d never tasted called matoke.  This basically consists of potatoes, cooking bananas (not sweet), and tomatoes boiled and cooked with oil and salt.  It’s something I’ll have to attempt before I leave.

Jane & James

I had yet another cooking lesson yesterday from Anastasia, my housekeeper, in making chapatti bread.  This is something like a cross between a tortilla and a pita.  With her help I was able to prepare a batch of bread, a little burnt but still tasty.  I’ll make an independent attempt at it next week.
Anastasia preparing chapatti.



Clearly thrilled with the final product.


And today, in celebration of Easter, I had a real treat: ice cream imported from Nairobi, topped with chocolate Easter eggs sent from the U.S.  Ice cream is pretty rare out here in the bush, so I was very happy.  In addition to all the food, I’ve become hooked on tea, prepared in the Kenyan/British style.  It’s basically black tea in one part milk (whole milk) boiled together with one part water, and loaded with sugar.  I usually only add about a teaspoon of sugar to my tea, but most locals add at least three!  I now find myself drawn to the cafeteria during my breaks for a kikombe cha chai (cup of tea).
 
ICE CREAM!  ICE CREAM!

Relaxing with a cup of tea.

Out on a date with the nuns.  Enjoyed a feast of nyama choma at Stress Free.
Dr. Amolo (left) performing a caesarian section in major theatre.
James managing the anesthesia.

Finally I got a Kenyan to smile for a photo!


Sunday, April 13, 2014

HALFWAY



Mutomo after an afternoon rain.

Today marks six months to the day since I landed in Kenya.  My first impression as I drove into the dusty town of Mutomo was, “What have I gotten myself into?”  I didn’t know how I was going to survive a whole year here.  And yet half a year later it has become a second home, and I find myself thanking God for having given me this opportunity.  I can’t believe I’m already halfway through my year.  The time is slipping away so fast!  I’m excited for the day I see home again, and yet I dread the day when I have to say goodbye to this beautiful place.
Last Sunday Mass at Ndiini outstation.

Mutomo town viewed from above.

Another new baby Eric.  Spent the last week struggling to breathe, on oxygen and antibiotics.  But he's doing well and was discharged home with his mother today.

Friday, April 4, 2014

The Church in Africa


Experiencing the Church in Kenya has been such a joy.  The name “Catholic” comes from the Greek katholikos, meaning “universal.”  Seeing the Church work in Kenya has really demonstrated its universality, its Catholic-ness. It is at the same time so foreign and yet so familiar.  Catholicism is relatively new to Africa, but growing rapidly.  It was Western missionaries who brought the faith to the continent.  Yet in a twist of irony, Africa’s churches are full and ours are not.  The Church in Africa has many priests, and yet Western churches often have nobody to lead their congregations.  Maybe one day Africa will have to send missionaries to re-evangelize the West.

Beautiful sunset in Mutomo.

Kenyans are an amazingly spiritual people.  For being such a small town, Mutomo is filled with many churches, and you can hear their choirs echoing throughout the town all through Sunday.  At the hospital people pray before meals, at the start of each shift, before every meeting, etc.  And so many people, in addition to their Kikamba names, also take Biblical names or names of saints. 





Boy & Girl Scouts
I recently attended an event in Nairobi for Sr. Helen Clare, one of our midwives at the hospital.  She was making her final vows as a nun along with five other sisters.  It was a large and elaborate event, with hundreds of guests in attendance, a huge feast, music, and dancing.  It was much like a wedding, except the brides are marrying God instead of husbands.  It was a beautiful ceremony from start to finish.  The opening procession was led by a group of boy and girl scouts marching down the aisle, followed by dozens of dancing sisters and novices.  When it came time for the scripture readings, a woman danced in while carrying in the Bible in a basket atop her head.  The Africans know how to celebrate Mass.  Faith and spirituality are exciting for them, and it shows in their practice.



Sr. Helen Clare during her final profession.



Our Lady of Africa Cathedral, Kitui Diocese.
 A couple weeks ago I took a short trip to Kitui with the European rotary doctors for a two-day getaway during our days off.  Kitui is about two hours from Mutomo and is the capital town of Kitui county.  Hendrik (the Dutch dentist) and I traveled there by matatu (the local bus transportation).  It is definitely not the most comfortable way to travel.  We started the journey with three of us in the front seat.  Halfway through, we picked up yet another person.  I assumed he would squeeze into the back of the bus, but was surprised when I found him sandwiched between the driver and myself in the front seat!  For about half an hour we all sat practically turned sideways until the newcomer reached his destination.  In Kitui we met up with the two Swedish doctors and enjoyed hot showers, a good dinner, and live music.  At the hotel we also ran into another mzungu, Bram, who is from the Netherlands and is working in Kitui.  On Sunday morning, Hendrick and Bram (both fellow Catholics) led the way to the cathedral.  It must have been a funny sight to see during the service: Bram with his Dutch Bible, Hendrik and I sharing an English copy, and everyone around us reading in Kiswahili, yet all engaged in the same message.  It was beautiful to see the faith transcending cultural and language lines. 
Hendrik & Bram



Stations of the Cross in Kiswahili

Crammed in a matatu during the journey to Kitui.



Baptism at the hospital.
Last weekend one our staff members from the hospital’s HIV clinic had a baptism for his newborn daughter.  This is the second baptism I’ve attended in Kenya.  Unlike at home where baptisms are always done in the church, here the setting is usually much more intimate.  Baptisms are often done in the home.  This one was done in a classroom at the hospital with family and friends gathered to watch.  I’ve kind of become the unofficial photographer for events now.  I brought my camera along and was asked to photograph the whole ceremony.  So all through the Mass I circled the priest and the baby, taking as many snaps as I could (I was asked to do the same for Sr. Clare’s ceremony last month and took almost 2GB of photos!). 


We followed the event with a typical Kenyan feast of rice, chapatti, cabbage, goat stew, and fruit.  I’m really loving the local food here.  Before I ate it because that was all there was and I couldn’t get Western dishes, but now I find myself craving things like ugali and cabbage and goat and thinking little of American food (though I still wouldn’t turn down a bowl of ice cream if it came my way).
Sunset during an evening jog.
Evans, a nurse from medical ward, shopping for his evening dinner.

The "shoe store" during market day.


All the mothers after delivery waiting to fill out birth certificates
I’ve gotten a lot of practice lately with deliveries on maternity ward.  I’ve now done several (maybe 5?) deliveries on my own.  Of course they have all been cases without complications and I am never without another nurse nearby who can help if needed, but I’m finally getting the basics.  So when I get back to the U.S., if I ever find myself in an emergency where a woman goes into abrupt labor, I think I’ll be able to manage.  One exciting bit of news for me this last week: one of the mothers named her son after me.  It’s very common here for mothers to name their babies after the doctors and midwives.  I felt very honored and  told her Eric was a very good name.  Still, it’s kind of strange to think that this child will go through life with my name just because I happened to be at the hospital doing the delivery that day.
March 17th, the first baby I delivered on my own!


March 25th: me with baby Eric and his mother.

Baby Eric

Doing fine after vacuum delivery and resuscitation.
We had a delivery yesterday which ended well, but was a bit of a scare initially.  One of the patients was in labor, but progressing slowly, so the doctors ordered for her to be augmented with oxytocin.  I assessed the fetal heart rate and it was great.  About 30 minutes later, I couldn’t find the heart rate when I listened.  I asked another nurse on duty to check, and she confirmed what I had heard.  I called the gynecologists, who rushed to the ward to see her.  We sped the patient down the corridor for a quick ultrasound which showed the fetal heard rate dropping, then sped back up to the delivery room where the doctors did a quick episiotomy and vacuum extraction.  The baby had a low initial Apgar of 6.  We suctioned out the airway and manually ventilated for a few minutes, and were finally rewarded with the sweet sound of screaming and crying.  “Don’t be such a baby!” I always tell them when they cry.  Mother and baby were both fine by the end of the shift.

Morning rounds with Dr. Amolo, the chief medical officer at the hospital.
We seem to be resuscitating a lot of babies lately.  Earlier this week we delivered a baby by caesarian section and ended up having to intubate, ventilate, and do compressions for almost an hour.  He spent the night on oxygen and under close supervision.  He’s done great all this week, gaining a good deal of weight and breathing without any difficulty.  This morning, four days after delivery, he was discharged home with his mother.

Thank God for eye goggles! Note also the bloody hands!
In a recent care package from home, I received a pair of protective eye goggles.  They are such a godsend, as I sometimes find myself speckled with blood and amniotic fluid and always worry about getting the stuff in my face.  Thank you Mom and Dad!  Don’t need any of that amniotic soup in my eyes.

Mutomo after a heavy rain.
Every Thursday, the hospital has continuing education classes put on by staff members at the hospital.  This week I volunteered to present another lecture, this time about palliative care.  Palliative care is a specialty area of healthcare that focuses on quality of life and controlling symptoms of a disease, rather than curing the disease itself.  Clinicians and nurses at the hospital often use the term “palliative care,” but many don’t necessarily understand what it means or how to implement it.  Coming from an oncology unit back home, I had a lot of experience dealing with palliative care, so I decided to give a class on the subject.  People seemed generally interested in the subject (even though it may not look that way in the photo).
Assembled for my morning lecture... don't they all look so excited?


This girl kept up for a good while during a morning run.
Now that I’ve been here for a good amount of time, I often find myself forgetting that I’m different from everyone else.  Not that I think of myself as African; I just forget that I look different.  I used to be very alert to the stares every time I stepped into town or went to church.  I was always painfully aware of my foreign appearance and how alien my white skin must look.  Now when I’m walking around town, I occasionally notice people looking at me and I remember with surprise, “Oh yeah, I’m white!”  The children never get tired of staring and waving at me.  You would think I was walking through town dressed as Santa Clause the way they all run up to me.  I like to go running through town a lot, but I hardly ever have a run without a group of kids chasing after me.  Usually they yell, “Mzungu, mzungu!” although the latest one I’ve been hearing is, “British!  British!”  Their standard greeting is always, “How are you?”  I think this is the only English phrase many of them know, because when I answer, “Fine, how are you?” I often just get confused stares.
This mob of kids chased me down and asked to have their picture taken.


We were joined by these students during our morning walk.

Foggy sunrise over Mutomo.