Burkina Faso Outreach :: BFOAfrica.org

Salam and Leprosy

I’ve been able to visit the sponsored children a bit more now that the rainy season is ending.  I had heard the story of 2 children who had come for help with their father riding in a donkey cart.  His legs were eaten away by leprosy.  His name is Salarm and as it turns out, my mother is sponsoring his oldest girl.  As I entered the courtyard, I greeted Salam in the native Moret language.  He laughed and laughed and blessed me over and over again.  I was so touched by his incredible attitude and fun personality as he sat there in the stench of his own filth, unable to move on his own, working away at shelling peanuts with what is left of his hands and one eye.

Elephantitis

Then there was the woman who grabbed my arm, did not speak, but was clearly trying to tell me something.  Confused, I finally looked down and hope I managed to hide the horror of seeing my first case of elephantitis.  She was asking me to pray for her.  It’s shocking to see this stuff is real.

Frogs In the Toilet

I think we must be in the midst of a plague of frogs.  Or maybe the frogs are here because of the plague of insects!  Whatever - they’re everywhere.  One night as Stephanie and I were sitting quietly in the room, we suddenly heard a loud thud in the toilet.  We looked at each other, ran to the bathroom, counted to 3 and lifted the toilet lid.  There, staring us right in the face was a frog – IN THE TOILET!  He came right in through the drain, and I’m told this was not the first time.  As I was chasing another out of the room, he ran into the bathroom and tried to make his escape the same way he came in – through the shower drain.  When I come home at night, there are literally at least 100 in the courtyard, the majority of them hanging out on the terrace fighting over the millions of insects.  Oh well, I’m counting my blessings as I’ve not yet seen a scorpion.  (Although, I might prefer a scorpion to the huge cockroaches.)

I visited the hospital the other day and as I was leaving I saw a little old woman with a baby in another room, calling for me.  I greeted her and entered the room.  With a sweet little smile on her face, she seemed to be pleading for help.  With hand signals and body language, she kept showing me how this boy’s head just kept falling.  As she removed the cloth from his body, I saw his skeleton – the large ribs clearly protruding from his body, no bottom, sagging skin on his arms and legs.  And yet, this woman kept telling me he can’t hold his head up.  She would put her hands out as if to say “What’s wrong?  What am I to do?”  I wondered - does she really not get it?  Does she really not know she needed to be concerned months ago when he wasn’t eating?  When his ribs started to become so obvious?  When he slept for hours?  - A 2-year old boy – just a skeleton?  Is she still wondering why he couldn’t hold his head up?  Why he died?

It was clear the doctors knew.  I wondered why she was left to sit there, apparently for hours, alone with the child, waiting for a doctor to come.  Then I saw the treatment plan, a prescription for ibuprofen.  Just ibuprofen – no IV, no attempt, it was too late; and the reality of it made me nauseous.  The ibuprofen was to pacify the woman and comfort the child while he died.

So, the next few days, Yako was a ghost town as soon as the sun went down.  Everyone was hiding in fear.  I’m still not in any danger.  Everyone knows they would never bother the white women, partially because they fear how our Embassy would react.  But it bothers me even more to realize they look at us as superior beings.  They treat their own people like dogs because they know there's nothing they can or will do.  Oh, how I'm tempted to give them a piece of my mind; but fortunately wisdom reigns and I am leaving the vengeance to the Lord.

PELAGIE NEEDED BLOOD

Most days, I handle it okay when a child dies as long as I know we did everything possible.  But, when they die in my arms, it’s just hard.  Most recently, it was 1-year old Pelagie.  I sometimes wish I had walked away when I saw her mother crying, approaching me with this very sick child.  It was already 7:00 pm and I had just stopped by the hospital to get meds to another child.  But, the doctors told this woman her child needed blood and without it, there was nothing they could do.  So, I turned to Boris, one of my workers, and asked, “Is there anything we can do?”  He responded, “I’ll give my blood.” 

Of course there was no lab tech available at this hour to take the blood, so we had to call someone to go find the emergency tech.  We were informed if there were at least 5 men, he would come and do blood tests.  Well, I’ve never met this woman before and of course she had come about 15 miles by bike alone with the child, so where were we going to find 5 men willing to give their blood?  Within 5 minutes, 2 men were there – they had heard a child needed blood and were there to give.  Fifteen minutes later a group of about 8 men came saying they heard a child needed blood and they also were there to give.  How the word got out, I don’t know, but I was encouraged as I’m sure was the mother.

At this point, everyone is assuming I’m responsible for this child’s care.  Knowing that a white woman’s involvement tends to get the medical staff to DO SOMETHING, I stayed.  If I hadn’t been there, the child would have been left to die without effort.  Maybe they know best?  But I have this problem/blessing of knowing God is really BIG and He can heal children.  I believe prayer is powerful and ‘in Jesus’ name’ miracles can and do happen.  So, I stay.

By now Pelagie occasionally whimpers.  As her mother hands her to me, she is like a rag doll.  Her eyes are already rolling back; so there was anxiety in the air as we all waited patiently (or not) for the ‘emergency’ lab tech to arrive.  I prayed like I’ve never prayed before.  That’s all I could do.  Those of you who read my story about Lucy have heard this before.  I held Pelagie and prayed and rubbed her hands and kept repeating her name as if all of this would keep her alive.  The tech arrived and slowly began testing blood while I just kept on praying.  I kept thinking there must be a reason why I happened to be there for this woman, so surely Pelagie would live. 

Well, Pelagie did not live.  After the lab tech had taken 7 blood samples, he announced that none of them were a clean enough match and we would have to continue in the morning.  It was as if Pelagie heard because not a minute later, she gasped and died. 

I was left with this woman and this baby, surrounded by a bunch of men I don’t know.  Boris had left before she died to get the meds that had been prescribed.  Of course the mother broke down.  As is typical here, the men all started yelling at her to stop.  I know just enough of the Moret language to know they were telling her she needed to stop crying in front of the white woman.  They kept throwing the cover over Pelagie’s face.  But her mother just kept sobbing and removing the cover.  I was so thankful when Boris returned.  Eventually, a couple men from the woman’s village arrived on motos to carry her and Pelagie home for the burial which would take place that night.  As is custom here, the men would bury Pelagie.  Her mother would not be allowed near the site.

 
WHY?

The honest truth is I questioned why?  Why didn’t the prayers work?  We were all trying so hard to save this one – why couldn’t He?  Is my faith too small?  How will I trust Him to heal the next one when so many die?  And, why do I question, “Why?”

By the way, the child I happened to be visiting when I met Pelagie and her mother – his name was Madi.  His grandmother had come to me asking for help about a week before.  He was severely malnourished, so pitiful, and yet, so darn cute.  He died 2 days later as did the little baby girl in the same room with him.  Her mother had just asked me to pray with her the day before.  And then another, baby Kader, died that same morning.   And, finally, I cried and didn’t stop for 2 days.

Don’t worry; I’ll keep on trusting Him because I always come back to He IS good, He IS faithful, He IS in control and I can’t imagine life without Him!  And, I’m hoping it’s safe to be honest with all of you.  I’m hoping we all have moments of questioning our faith?  I know we’ve all been through difficult situations and prayed and didn’t get the results we expected.