Writer's Block

     I have started and discarded no less than three posts in the last two days. Everything I try to write comes out entirely too inane to release on the internet with my name attached. All I really have to say is that I dislike work weeks that start with starving babies and desperate dads, and I much prefer clinic days with a bunch of teenagers bemoaning their acne to the mornings when I have to figure how to prioritize between toddlers with 104 degree fevers.
      Chikungunya continues to run rampant. Someone I respect pointed out to me how blessed we are that chikungunya is not generally deadly, since it is so widespread now. I will take optimism where I can find it.

Graduation

      This week was graduation for the MOHI schools. Thursday was graduation at our Thozin campus in Grand Goave, for the kindergarten, sixth grade and high school. Friday was graduation for the kindergartners and sixth graders at our St. Etienne school. Graduation is a Big Deal here, and I was so grateful to have the opportunity to attend and share the experience. There were demonstrations from the kindergartners about what they want to be when they grow up, and speeches from some of the older students. Unfortunately, in the grand tradition of graduations in my family, I sat too far away and the only pictures I got were blurry. So, here are some pictures others took.

One of the traditions is for a child from the graduating class to pass the torch (or candle) to a child from the next class. Here is a graduating kindergartner from Thozin passing the candle to one of our second year preschoolers.

     Another part of the ceremony involves skits, poems, songs and dances performed by various graduating students. Yesterday at the St. Etienne graduation the kindergartners did a dance about their favorite colors and a skit on the importance of using good manners. Here are some pictures from the event.

Happy graduation everyone!

     

Hope has a way...

        A couple of months ago I wrote about the house fire in our neighborhood that killed one child and left a baby severely burned. Some clinic volunteers and I cared for the baby, Milove as she healed from her burns. It was emotional for all involved. Milove was a trooper, but one of the downsides of being a nurse is when the very sight of you makes a little one cry.
    Milove was back in the clinic today. Not crying. Her burns have completely healed, and the only scarring is a small spot above her right toe. She is walking and talking now, and according to her mama, getting into all kinds of trouble. Hope. It turns it's face to me just when I least expect it.

Counting Gifts

    There are moments of joy in the midst of the general craziness of day to day life here. I savor them as they come. This happened Thursday afternoon after I finished seeing patients:

     

Triaging

      Part of our morning clinic routine involves triaging patients in an effort to keep the very sick from waiting any longer than they have to. That used to mean pulling anyone with a fever and anyone less than a month old to the front of the line. Now, thanks to ckikungunya, we not only pull patients with fevers to the front of the line, but we then prioritize patients based on how high said fever is. Anyone with a temp greater than 103 degrees gets seen first (or as close to it as possible if there is more than one person), then those with temps between 102 and 103, and so on down the line until we get to those without fevers. Add it to the list of things I'm learning to be flexible about.
      I realize it probably seems like all I write about these days is chikungunya. That's because I write about what I am thinking about, and all I think about these days is chikungunya. That's an exaggeration. Sort of. I was naive enough last week to think maybe things were starting to slow down. Nope. There has been a huge influx of cases this week in clinic, and it is striking down our staff (and my friends) left and right. Please keep us in your prayers. Thank you.

Lament

      I have been thinking a lot recently about the place of grief for for the people of God. Or perhaps lament is a better word for it. I love sharing the positive things happening at MOHI, especially in the clinic. I love sharing the victories and the times when hope takes me by surprise. These stories are fun, and remind people (me) of many of the reasons I came down here in the first place. There are many sweet moments spent giggling with the kids, or getting the chance to lavish a new mom with praises about all of the wonderful choices she is making for her newborn daughter.Those thing are only part of the story though.
       Most days are also full of things that demand to be lamented. My friends come to church exhausted because it was pouring down rain last night and their homes leak. A proud father who I have watched play with, sing to and love his toddler daughter all morning has to gather his dignity around himself and tell me that while he knows she would do better if she ate more often, he does not have the money. A woman in the mountains is in full blown heart failure. Another virus is plaguing bodies and magnifying suffering. Severe malnutrition (starvation) is a thing that even student nurses can recognize at a glance.
       I struggle writing this post. I wrestle with how to word what I am thinking and feeling. The last thing I want to do is be another foreigner who, in my ignorance or willful misunderstanding of the dignity and nuance of the people I love, devalues them. That being said, I am also coming to believe that part of the role of the people of God is to perceive the brokenness around us. To see suffering and lament it. I believe in the ultimate healing and putting right of all things as they are under the Lordship of Christ, but we are not there. Right now is the time of the "not yet." It is the time of starving babies and fevered joints. It is the time of limited healthcare options becoming even more so as funding dries up and organizations pull out. It is the time of sweat and tears. It is the time of a brokenly whispered "come Lord Jesus" and a desperate hope the He will. Soon.

The View from Wednesday

This is what I get to look at out the mobile clinic windows on Wednesdays:

     It's a rough life, I know.

Chikungunya update:

It is still everywhere and still causing a ridiculous amount of suffering. Please keep praying for my friends and patients as they fight this disease.

(Bonus points if you know where I got this blog title from!)