This was our biggest day yet. If our patient flow continues as it has so far, we will have seen and treated about 12,000 kids by the time we close the camps next Tuesay. In our wildest imaginations, we could never have predicted this result.
Publicity-seeking is not my style. Generally, I prefer to fly under the radar and away from the glare of the flashbulbs. Here in Nairobi there's been no such luck; however, in this case it's been a good thing. Attention from the media, which has intensified as the week has worn on, has brought about the very best kind of result.
From the beginning, many of us have wondered what would happen to these children when we go home. Will anyone follow after us, or will they continue to be the forgotten ones? Today we learned the answer. Already plans are afoot to convert our mission camp site at Mukuru into a permanent children's clinic, thanks in large part to some significant funding from the U.S. government. Normally when I hear that our government is funding yet another social program, I would roll my eyes and cynically mutter, "Your tax dollars at work." But somehow this time is different. We have lived among the people here and have seen firsthand their needs and their efforts to help themselves. We have watched them eagerly soak up information about healthcare and wellness; we have experienced their enthusiastic assistance to us, turning out in droves to help in the camp in any way they can - even when the help we need is scrubbing dirty dental instruments and keeping our workspaces clean. No task it too menial for our Kenyan volunteers to accept. If our mission here has been the incentive for a new clinic in this area, as we've been assured that it has, we will have contributed to giving people a hand up, rather than a handout. What better legacy to leave behind than that! Maybe the publicity we've received isn't so bad after all.
The Kenyan people whom we're serving have not been the sole beneficiaries of our mission here. We, too - every last one of us -have been on the receiving end of a wealth of knowledge, experience, friendship, fellowship and yes, pure joy. Those of us who have been in the medical profession for a long time have grown accustomed to relying on medical science by way of fancy diagnostic tests and tools and high-powered medicines. Here we don't have those luxuries. We have only our hands, our eyes, our ears and our gut instincts to go on. Not exactly modern medicine ... and yet, we have honed our powers of observtion and our listening skills and learned to make do with what we have.
In the mission camp, the kind of medicine we practice is more art than science - at times more folk art than fine art - practiced more with the heart than with electronic gizmos and gadgets. In the process, I have seen the inner beauty of my team members shining through, as they cooperate, collaborate, communicate and share their special talents and skills with each other to provide the best care they have to offer to these little ones. The children we are treating probably won't see our faces again and certainly won't remember our names, but we will never forget what we've learned and experienced while serving them.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Day 5 - 9/26/08
It's no longer a matter of pulling out something clean to wear this morning; it's a matter of finding something less dirty. Carving out time to do laundry has not been our first priority. The buses we've hired to take us to the campsites arrive at the hotel at 7 a.m. For most of us, our day begins two hours earlier. No alarm clocks needed. A very noisy rooster somewhere nearby handles the job quite efficiently and promptly at 5 a.m. The hotel staff provides us with a full and hearty breakfast. It's far more than most of us would have at home, but we will be working hard and it will be a long time until lunch.
By 7:15 a.m., the wheels on the buses are rolling toward the campsites with team members and gear onboard. Nearly an hour later, having threaded our way through rush-hour traffic, we arrive at our destinations and get to work.
In the afternoons, we must leave the camps by 4 p.m. if we want to spend only one hour getting back to the hotel. Otherwise, the commute can easily turn into two hours or more, which in a hot and bumpy bus isn't anyone's idea of a good time. The 8 hours in between sound like a rather short working day, but I would challenge anyone who thinks that to walk in our shoes for just one hour.
Although it's springtime in Kenya, with blessedly cool and breezy mornings and evenings, we are less than 100 miles south of the equator. Once the morning overcast burns off, the sun is intense and relentless. Some of the modern high-rise office buildings in the city center have air-conditioning, but here in the camp it's a different story. So when the heat of the day exceeds 80 degrees, it takes a toll on us all. In addition, Nairobi sits at about 5,500 ft. above sea level. By now, we're mostly accustomed to that, but it still factors in to fatigue.
Once we stumble off the bus back at the hotel at the end of the day, the poolside bar does a brisk business. Although this is a budget hotel (think Holiday Inn before renovation), the pool area is quite lovely and provides a great place to unwind.
Evenings have been times of fellowship. Some have adopted Connie's philosophy: We can sleep when we get home. They've tried different restaurants every night and have enjoyed the wide variety of food that Nairobi has to offer. Others of us, who crave our sleep, tend to stick closer to our hotel/home, where the restaurant does a very creditable job of providing a satisfying dinner. Either way, we have a chance to share our day and our lives and bond ever more closely. For now the laundry can wait.
By 7:15 a.m., the wheels on the buses are rolling toward the campsites with team members and gear onboard. Nearly an hour later, having threaded our way through rush-hour traffic, we arrive at our destinations and get to work.
In the afternoons, we must leave the camps by 4 p.m. if we want to spend only one hour getting back to the hotel. Otherwise, the commute can easily turn into two hours or more, which in a hot and bumpy bus isn't anyone's idea of a good time. The 8 hours in between sound like a rather short working day, but I would challenge anyone who thinks that to walk in our shoes for just one hour.
Although it's springtime in Kenya, with blessedly cool and breezy mornings and evenings, we are less than 100 miles south of the equator. Once the morning overcast burns off, the sun is intense and relentless. Some of the modern high-rise office buildings in the city center have air-conditioning, but here in the camp it's a different story. So when the heat of the day exceeds 80 degrees, it takes a toll on us all. In addition, Nairobi sits at about 5,500 ft. above sea level. By now, we're mostly accustomed to that, but it still factors in to fatigue.
Once we stumble off the bus back at the hotel at the end of the day, the poolside bar does a brisk business. Although this is a budget hotel (think Holiday Inn before renovation), the pool area is quite lovely and provides a great place to unwind.
Evenings have been times of fellowship. Some have adopted Connie's philosophy: We can sleep when we get home. They've tried different restaurants every night and have enjoyed the wide variety of food that Nairobi has to offer. Others of us, who crave our sleep, tend to stick closer to our hotel/home, where the restaurant does a very creditable job of providing a satisfying dinner. Either way, we have a chance to share our day and our lives and bond ever more closely. For now the laundry can wait.
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