Musings on Ebola

This morning, I sit here in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, where there are no cases of Ebola within about 3,000 miles of us (unlike the U.S., which has several active cases).  I am very thankful that we are safe and disease-free here.  However, it is frightening to follow from afar the spread of Ebola and apparent improper handling of cases even in the U.S. - a country which has state-of-the art medical care, technology, communication abilities and an educated population.

Because Tanzania has almost none of those abilities, it would definitely be pushed to its limits were Ebola to emerge here.  First of all, I don't have a high level of confidence in the medical system here. Even in a Western-style clinic, a Dar friend of mine was recently diagnosed with anemia when it turned out that she had an infection in her colon.  There isn't a lot of health education here, and the city relies almost exclusively on crowded public transportation.  Things could very quickly spiral out of control in this urban setting.  This is definitely a worrying thought which has been starting to preoccupy the missionary community here:  What would we do if Ebola spread into East Africa? Into Tanzania? Into Dar?  If/when would our school close?  Would a quarantine be imposed?  Would we even be able to leave the country if we wanted to?

When reading about Ebola I'm tempted to give into the opposite poles of fear (what if? what if? what if?) or denial/indifference (if I don't think about it, it's not going to happen). What I should be doing is spending time on my knees in prayer.  Because even though Ebola isn't here in East Africa, it is absolutely devastating West Africa.

It's very sobering to read what my friends Steve & Dyan Larmey, heads of Young Life Africa, wrote just yesterday about the spread of Ebola among their colleagues and friends.  It puts a very human face upon this largely abstract tragedy:

Friends,

Our Young Life friends in Sierra Leone and Liberia are closing in on four months now of life/death with Ebola. They keep praying, going and hoping, but visibly they see a battle being lost. The numbers of infections and deaths are increasing--the World Health Organization says that in 2 months there will be 10,000 new infections each day if some significant intervention does not happen. The death rate has risen from a low of 52% to over 70% now.

The Liberian government has run out of money to pay health workers who are threatening to strike if their $500/month danger pay is not increased to $700/month. President Johnson of Liberia literally begged the workers’ union to continue working, explaining to them the government has no money. In what has been called by some a surrender, the government of Sierra Leone is now just giving families rubber gloves and some hydration salts and medicine and is telling people to treat Ebola victims at home because they lack space at Ebola treatment centers.

Here are some updates from our Young Life family in Liberia and Sierra Leone:

Our teacher staff in Freetown, Sahr Kamasie, lost his wife Victoria two nights ago. She was 29 years old, fell sick and died a few days later. She has left behind a 2-year-old son John and a 3-month-old baby Matilda with Sahr. Sahr has been waiting alone in his house with her body waiting for Ebola test results on her body to come back. The babies are at their grandmother’s house where they sent them as soon as Victoria was sick. Please pray for Sahr and the Sierra Leone team. The results will come back Thursday. If it was not Ebola (thousands of people are dying of many things other than Ebola every day because the healthcare system can only handle Ebola cases) they will bury her body with just a few friends. If it is a positive test, Sahr and the children will be under quarantine.

Andrew Quimeh, one of our top volunteer leaders in Kakata, Liberia died of Ebola yesterday. He was on the Leadership Tree of our Area Director Yancy Dixon. A Campaigner kid from the same area – Greature Worr – was released Ebola-free from a treatment center after weeks of treatment, but she lost her father and her sister. Pray for Andrew's family, for Greature and for Yancy and his team.

Jeraline Johnson has two weeks left of her second 21-day quarantine. She is the only one left in the house as both her sister and brother-in-law have died of Ebola and her niece – 2 year-old Blessings – and Blessings’ Aunt were both diagnosed with Ebola and taken to a treatment center 8 days ago. I asked her what she does all day as she sits alone: "I pray and I read my Bible. Psalm 91 I pray constantly. I sing and I praise and thank God."  Then she broke down in tears and sobbed with me on the phone for about 5 minutes and said, "Steve I am so so scared." There was good news today as Blessings' aunt was released after 8 days of treatment from the Ebola center. At the end of the call she composed herself and said, "My hope is in Jesus alone. And He is faithful." We prayed Psalm 91 together.

Our Area Director from Robertsport and DGL graduate, Baccus Roberts, and two other leaders from Monrovia, Abraham and Gbeme, are all currently sick. We are praying that this is not Ebola. Pray for healing for them. 

James Davis, our regional director for Liberia and Sierra Leone, texted today, "Steve, I have to admit, I feel like giving up the fight, but if I do who will help lead kids and leaders. We have no peace, freedom, etc. Our people are dying every hour.  Our hope is in Jesus, but we fear we may be the next Ebola victims. I can't bear this – Jesus we need you more."  He later texted back to the whole team of Senior African leaders who are here now in Colorado, "I promise I will NOT give up – the Band of Brothers do not give up….I know that we are not in this alone – the Lord is with us. And so are you."

Please continue to lift our friends up and let's not grow weary. Let's be strong for them as they focus not on what is seen but what is unseen.

Thank you,

Steve & Dyan

Psalm 91:5-7: "You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys.  A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you."

Seasons

Fall is currently upon the United States and so as I scroll through my Facebook feed, I see lots of pictures of changing leaves, apple picking and people starting to bundle up.  In just a few short months those pictures will change to those of people frolicking in the snow and drinking hot chocolate.  In the course of a year, the temperature can fluctuate over 100 degrees Fahrenheit!  It's such a surreal thing because there are no true "seasons" here by U.S. standards.

There are some variations in temperature between the cooler season in June/July/August and the hot season in December/January/February.  But these temperatures don't really fluctuate all that much. Throughout the year, I go from sleeping under a sheet without a fan to sleeping on top of my sheet with my fan directly blasting on me on the top setting (or on the rare, extremely miserable night - actually running the A/C...assuming there is power, of course).  Right now things are starting to heat up quite a bit during the days but the nights have still been pretty comfortable and so I'm still only at fan setting #1.  I'd like to feel that I've acclimatized to Tanzanian heat, but I think it's honestly been a bit cooler this school year so far.  Knowing the magnitude of the heat that lies ahead is both good (I made it through once before!) and bad (It's not fun to have sweat rolling down your back for weeks on end!)

There are also some variations in precipitation.  During the true dry season, there is really no chance of rain for weeks and weeks.  That itself is kind of surreal to me, coming from a climate where it rains every few days (or if it doesn't - it's newsworthy!)  Even though everything is outside, no one makes a rain plan here.  Part of this is because for most of the year, it really won't rain, or if it does - it will be fast and furious and over pretty quickly.  Part of it is just a different attitude toward the rain. If it rains, you run under a tree (there aren't many thunderstorms here)...or you get wet.  It's not ever cold and you'll dry!

While home this summer we were really struck by the differences in the role that weather plays in daily life between here and there.  Here, I'll go many days without checking the forecast and I'm not really sure what the weather will bring.  There, most people were checking weather apps multiple times per day to see the Doppler radar and verify the percentage chance of precipitation on an hour-by-hour basis.  We were startled by the heart-stopping weather alert functions on phones to alert everyone to the possibility of flash flood or heat advisories.

It was also noteworthy that in the climate-controlled environment of the West, it's possible that you may not even notice the rain outside!  Here, with the tin roofs and downpours, it is always readily apparent.

I feel that these differences are due to both conditions and culture.  In Tanzania, there isn't a need for up-to-the-minute weather tracking because there's not all that much variation from day to day.  Will it be hot or beastly hot today?   Will the humidity be high or oppressively so?  Although there are a few sudden storms, it's not like the U.S. where dangerous squalls can pop up out of nowhere.

I think it's also due to culture.  Like I mentioned earlier, the weather just really isn't an issue in Tanzania.  It doesn't usually change people's plans and it's typically not even commented on (except by us Westerners).  I wonder if the U.S. obsession with the weather is due in part because it's one of the very few things in Western life which is unable to be controlled.  By predicting and tracking, we can try to keep it contained, but the reality is that we still don't have the technology to provide the kind of accuracy that people are looking for.  I can't tell you the number of times that the forecast called for a "0%" chance of rain, only to have showers pop up.

By contrast, here in Tanzania, where not much in life is able to be controlled, the weather is just one more item that whatever happens, will happen.  As with most everything in cross-cultural comparisons - neither of these attitudes are right or wrong....they are just different.

Meet Baby Girl Naifat!

We were so thrilled that our house helper, Rehema (Ray), had a healthy baby girl born on September 7.  I got the chance to visit mom, dad Ari and baby Naifat at their home in Msasani today.

I was so happy to see Ray...the proud mama!

So sweet!  Everything is perfect and incredibly tiny.  It's a cliche, but a true one...you really do forget how little they are...

Our friends Jamie and Lyndi are midwives that worked with Ray during her pregnancy, and I'm so glad they also came along on the visit, along with my friend and language-learning partner Heidi! I'm sure the arrival of 4 wazungu women made quite a stir in Ray's neighborhood today.

I'm incredibly thankful that the delivery went smoothly and little Naifat is growing and thriving.  In this culture, a childless woman goes by "Dada," but once you have a child, you are known as "Mama" and then your oldest child's first name.    I think of how painful this last year and a half must have been for Ray after losing her first child shortly after delivery.  She was a Mama, yet she had no child to embrace and so she continued to be called Dada.

I'm happy that I'll now have to switch from calling her Dada Ray to Mama Naifat!

The Dark Side of Beauty

Recently, my wife posted some beautiful photos of our amazing walk from our house to school. I've been meaning to write a similar post, myself, but in a slightly more sinister way.

As school started this year, I saw some posts about truly outrageous journeys that some students have to take each day to get an education. Even right here in Dar, we know of a school that lies beyond a huge hole in the road, where children literally have to climb down and then back up onto the road-twice a day. (and some of our students at HOPAC are raising money to help fix this!)

Our journey is not one of those stories. But, it does have some amusing dangers that we face each day, and that sometimes get the better of us.

Today for example Charlotte's foot somehow came across a spare piece of barbed wire laying right on the path. Every day, our "short cut" takes us under this piece of barbed wire near our backyard. (We also have to step over another piece at the same time.)

Ah, sometimes there are some trees on the path to give us shade...

Except they are not nice at all. We are talking hidden spikes 1-2 inches long. I seriously wonder what was eating these trees which lead to them figuring out how to defend themselves! I've got a few shirts and hats that have met these devils the hard way.

Then, we get to "the hill" part of living on the hill. We don't often go this way, partly because it's just too steep! I tried to take a bunch of photos of this, and it's hard to convey. Let's just say that loose, dry rocky soil, and a high grade incline don't go well together, and we've had a few bruises to prove it.

A shortcut off the hill is to cut through our neighbor's front lawn, and they are kind enough to offer it to us. But then the kids insist on walking along the wall. I used to love heights, but then I had kids, and now I hate them! I have visions of books in backpacks spontaneously shifting, throwing the kid off balance and down the 15-foot-or-so drop. To make it even better, our neighbors have a trampoline just a few feet away from this.

And once we make it past the wicked wire, tricky tree, steep slope, and delirious drop, we come out to a nice meadow that winds down to the side entrance of HOPAC. It's quite pretty. Only, it is home to even MORE bushes with thorns. Seriously, these are just a few. I do not understand African shrubbery and it's penchant for death.

 

Come on, that's just insane!