Warning - this is one of those long self-therapeutic blogspots where I spill every detail, so pardon all the emotion. The container full of wonderful things for the schools and sponsorship program has arrived and is sitting on the ground in Gobila! But, what a couple days we had.

I was on my way to Ouaga with a dying man, Boukare, when I got the call that the container was on its way to Yako and they wanted to know where to put it, and to have the money ready, etc. I, in my calmest voice said, "No one contacted me to say they were bringing the container to Yako today and I am currently heading to the capital city with a man who is dying. I'm afraid you'll have to make it work without me." Boukare is the uncle of a 14-year old boy named Moussa who was sponsored with us. Moussa first lost his father, then his mother, then the Aunt who was raising him. He's been with this uncle for the last 5 years. Boukare was in the hospital when I visited one day, and I found him in serious condition. Yako hospital was doing their best by pumping him full of expensive meds that weren't doing a thing because they just didn't have any other options. I called missionary friend, Dr. Peter in the capital and he said to bring him right away.

We got to Dr. Peter's clinic and were told he needed oxygen immediately, but they didn't have any. He was too weak to walk and we had already gotten him out of my truck and into the clinic only to turn around and carry him back to my truck on the hunt for oxygen.

And, of course, at that moment, my truck wouldn't start. It was like a bad dream where you have to get somewhere but can't move fast enough. Fortunately Boris was with us and knew to jiggle some wires (?) and got it started. At the same time, calls were coming through regarding problems with the container. With each phone call, I'm sure my voice sounded a little more desperate, "We're trying to save a dying man - deal with it!" 

We got Boukare to a clinic with oxygen and within an hour, he was breathing better and finally able to sleep. The container guys called again to say, "We don't have a crane to lift the container off the truck. What are you going to do about that?" I'm pretty sure it was only in my brain that I said, "are you for real? - you drove a packed 20ft container 120 km and don't have a crane? And you think I have one in my backyard?" Instead, I think I said, "I don't have a crane. I'll see if I can find you one." Via phone calls, we managed to track down a crane but they couldn't track down the driver; so at 9:00 p.m. the guys accepted the fact that they had to spend the night under the stars in Gobila. It was good for them - Olivia and the school teacher had been in Gobila from 3:00 to 9:00 waiting for them!

I was expected back at the hospital at 7:00 for the Dr. report. He informed me Boukare had everything wrong with him and asked how well I knew him - meaning, how much was I willing to spend to try to save his life. I told him I had planned on $250 - how close was I? He said I'd already passed the $250 mark. So we left it that I would contact Dr. Peter for advice which I did the next morning. The truck continued to refuse to start, so we found a mechanic who did something (I really think he just spit on some starter part), but it worked. Dr. Peter said he would meet me at the hospital at 10:00 the next morning.

I was there at 10:00 and Boukare sat up to say good morning, but still looked miserable and so pitiful. It was hard to see this kind and funny uncle suffering so. But I assured him Dr. Peter was coming. At 10:30, Dr. Peter called to ask where I was and turns out we had misunderstood each other's whereabouts and it would be another hour. At 11:00, Boukare's sister who had come with us to care for Boukare (and doesn't speak French) came and grabbed me from the lobby. We ran to his room. Boukare looked at me one more time and was gone.

Five minutes later, the container guys called to say the container was too heavy for the crane - what should they do - all I could say was, "Boukare just died - deal with it". Then the interesting conversation starts between me, the doctors and the sister who doesn't speak French. She is like a fish out of water in the capital city and just wants to get Boukare's body back to Yako where she will be with extended family. The doctors are looking at me like, "You mean you're going to put a grown man's dead body in the back of your truck and drive him 2 hours to Yako alone with this woman who doesn't speak French?" What else was i going to do? They mentioned a morgue a few miles away but eventually we'd still have to get the body to Yako, right?

Eventually, in talking with Boukare's extended family, it was decided they would come to Ouaga to get the body, so we would simply need to get him to the morgue about 5 miles from the clinic. At the same time the container guys called to say they would have to unload all the supplies in order to lighten the load so they could lift the container to the ground (this was a risky move because of the high risk of theft, but I had no choice). I told them I was trying to figure out what to do with Boukare's dead body - do what you have to do. And, that's when I passed out. Soooo embarrassing - my legs just gave out and I was down right there in the middle of the hospital lobby where we were waiting for the ambulance driver to take us to the morgue.

The extended family came and somehow got back to Yako with Boukare. The tomb was dug and Boukare was buried. A French Dr. came to check on me and eventually I made it back to Yako. We're not sure what will happen to the child, Moussa. He still has extended family so someone will take him in and we'll be sure to continue to help - we just need to pray for him - he's already been through so much and he's only 15 years old.

And the call finally came through - the container was all settled. They unloaded it, lifted it off the truck and onto the ground (after breaking several chains), then reloaded it. And, I'm happy to say, I don't think a thing was stolen! So, congratulations to everyone - all that great stuff is here! Obviously the Lord gets credit for this one - I wasn't even there! That's kind of funny.

Click here for photos.