Kala Salasa fuu bee jemma, nasaara'en njehi haa lopital ngam do'aago bee nyawbe.

Kala Salasa fuu bee jemma, nasaara'en njehi haa lopital ngam do'aago bee nyawbe. For those who have yet to master the Fufulde language, this means “Every Tuesday night, the white people go to the hospital to pray with the sick people.” (I only say “white people” because that is what everyone calls us- “nasaara’en!”)

I promised my mother-in-law that I would blog more, so since today is Tuesday I thought I would blog about our weekly prayer rounds.

For the first three months of our stay in Africa, we are in Meskine, Cameroon. (It is right next to Maraou on the map). In this area, Fufulde is the main language people speak- so it is an ideal learning place for us. We are staying on the hospital compound. The hospital was started in the 90’s by Medical Centers of West Africa- a Louisiana based ministry with the mission of reaching the unreached Fulbe (Fulani) in Cameroon. It was decided that a hospital would be built in order to build relationships with the Fulbe with the hopes of planting a church.

The hospital is in dire need of a surgeon (or even short-term volunteers), and has advertised on the Samaritan Purse website. I got this description from there:

“de Meskine is a 100 bed hospital located in a remote area of Cameroon. This is a challenging mission location with few expatriates. The hospital provides surgery, maternity services and general medicine along with treatment in the outpatient clinic. French is the primary language along with the local Fulfulde dialect. Few patients or staff speak English. Over 90% of the population is Muslim.”

It is impossible really to describe the hospital. (I didn’t take pictures because it seemed rude when we are there to pray, but I stole these pictures for you off of someone other peoples’ blogs).

There are 5 wards- for women, for men, for children, for people with contagious diseases, and the maternity ward. On Tuesdays, we divide up into pairs and go onto the wards to pray. Tonight, I went to the women’s and the maternity.  The wards have about 20 beds in them. The beds are about a foot apart- if that. They are so close that when we pray for one person, we sit on another person’s bed!

The first thing that hits me when we arrive on the wards is the smell! Most hospitals have their fair share of body fluid smells, well imagine that smell in an open ward with no circulating air on a hot evening.  Also if you have ever spent any time in Africa, you know the people have their own special smell- it is kind of like campfire smoke and musky body odor combined (by the way, they think Westerners smell like soured milk!). So you have body fluid odor plus the smell of 50 musky campfire b.o. people and the fumes from cleaning products and now you can almost imagine the smell of the wards!

The next thing that strikes me is the condition of the medical equipment. Everything is glaringly sparse, outdated, or dirty. To go from the Mayo Clinic to here is quite a shock! I have to remind myself what an amazing blessing this hospital is to the people! Without this place, they would have no medical care at all. People come from Chad and Nigeria for the medical services of this hospital. It is not so much that this hospital is lacking, it is more that I have taken for granted the over abundance of goods and services in Western medicine. Over and over again, the patients thank God for this hospital!

After the sights and smells, I focus in on the people. (I pray one day I will be able to overlook such superficial things and they will catch my attention first!).  Tonight we prayed with a woman that had been in the hospital for weeks with a wounded foot, a woman with severe malaria, a woman with recurrent ascites (fluid in her abdomen), a woman who had abdominal surgery, a man with an extensive wound in his groin that caused his penis to fall off (seriuosly- I am not even joking), and a woman in her 7^th month of pregnancy that was having contractions.  The one patient that touched me the most was a young lady that had a miscarriage in her 4^th month of pregnancy. It was her first pregnancy. Although she was trying so hard not to cry I could see the tears in her eyes as her mother talked with the other missionary. I started crying too. Even though we could barely communicate, we silently cried together. Our tears connected us together more than words ever could. Then we prayed over 2 week old twins that were barely 4 pounds each, but are doing so well! I am learning a lot here about suffering and blessings!  

So, that is my Tuesday night!