Malnutrition clinic

Last week, I felt disconnected from my culture. While my Facebook friends (and much of the US) were deciding which day of the week to eat a chicken sandwich, I was working in the pediatric malnutrition clinic at the hospital. I saw a two-year-old that weighed 10 pounds.

10 pounds. Most children born in United States when they are born weight 7 or 8 pounds. To give you more prospective, Charlie is 15 months old and weighs a little over 20 pounds (and she is on the lower end of the scale). A two-year-old weighed 10 pounds. 10 pounds. I know because I weighed him myself. 10 pounds. 10 pounds!

I cannot get this little boy out of my mind. His name is Bartholomew.

I have never seen such a sight. He is a little taller than Charlie which only exaggerates the profound effects of a body starving for nutrition. I have used the phrase “skin and bone before,” but I have never actually seen a person that quite literally was little more than skin and bone. I could count every bone in his protruding ribcage as well as every vertebra on his spine. His body was so thin that his head looked grossly disproportionate and misshapen.  His arms and legs were straight rods. A skeletal pelvis was where his cute little baby bum should have been. It was the pelvis that got me- it really did look like a skeleton.

The reasons for malnutrition in Meskin, Cameroon are complex. Only 4% of the population has jobs, the rest live off the land and eat what they can grow or barter. August is a difficult time here because the harvest has not yet come and stored crops from the last growing season are dwindling. It is not uncommon for women and children to go two days without eating. When they do eat, they mostly eat millet with maybe some oil and a little flavoring.

August is also difficult because the Muslims are fasting for Ramadan- nursing mothers also which often causes their milk supply to drastically decrease.  

The lack of nutritious food is compounded by other poverty related problems. Often children here are on the smaller size already because their mothers do not know how to or cannot properly feed them,  then the children develop chronic diarrhea which makes their little bodies unable to absorb nutrition, then they might get malaria which sets them back even further. The problem spirals out of control.

When asked how many children they have, almost every mother responds something like this, “I have five, but two have returned.”

Returned. My stomach drops and my palms sweat every time I hear that phrase. I have one. What if she “returned”?

Malnutrition affects almost 800 million people according to the World Health Organization. If you were like me before I moved to Africa, chances are that you do not know one person that has a severely compromised nutritional status. 800 million people - a problem this big almost weighs too daunting to even attempt to help- unless you see with your own eyes.

Last week a friend of mine posted this picture on her Facebook.

I am not even going to touch the great chicken debate- and please don’t let it distract you from the message of this picture. The accusation has been made, and sadly we Christians are guilty as charged as evidenced by the staggering number of malnourished amongst us.

Thankfully, when we allow him to, God can use us to make a difference! Last week Bartholomew gained over 2 pounds with the doctors and nurses caring for him, educating his mother, and providing food! And almost every week a child graduates out of the malnutrition program because their weight and nutritional status has improved. Nothing is impossible with God!

For more information about the hospital here and how you can help, here is the website: http://www.mcwanet.org/

My Job is to measure the kids's arm (it is one of the factors used to determine how malnurished they are). I also play with the babies when Carrie does the real work! She is a champion for those in need.

This is Yanga. He keeps us and the mothers in line!

Ramadan

On July 20, the chief and religious leader of Meskine saw the crescent moon in the night sky and he proclaimed the beginning of the month of Ramadan. To Christians and much of the Western world, this means little. But to our Muslim neighbors, it means that the month of fasting and abstinence from worldly pleasures has begun. As one of the Five Pillars of Islam, the fasting month of Ramadan is considered the highest form of worship. During this month, Muslims will attempt to suppress their earthly desires as an act of spiritual piety in order to atone for their sins (make right with God).  By not eating or drinking during the day (the people here, won’t even swallow their saliva!), Muslims believe their sins are scorched away sins like the sun burns the ground.  Their stomachs ache with hunger in an attempt to please God and gain rewards.

While Christians value fasting as a way to intensify our prayers, we do not do it so that we may persuade God , to ensure our wrongs are forgiven, or to gain rewards. God does not desire religious duty. Christ desires our heart. So much so that he gave his life as an atonement for our sins. All we have to do is believe and assurance of salvation is ours. We are free from doubt, the unknown, and retribution. This is a freedom our Muslim friends do not know.

This Ramadan, please join the millions of Christians around the world in praying for our Muslim friends or as we call them in Meskine, “our cousins.”  By setting aside these 30 (or 20 something- if you start now) for prayer, we will be better able to relate to our Muslim cousins as they are also praying. Pray specifically for greater breakthroughs for the Gospel among Muslims, an increased commitment to prayer by Christians, and for more missionaries to work among Muslims. To help you each day, there is a free prayer guide (there is even one for kids). Each day highlights a different people group or region- with information, statics, and ways to pray.  And just in case you think your Muslim cousins only live in countries with names you cannot pronounce, tomorrow’s location is Nashville, Tennessee!

But before we can plead for our cousins, we must be intentional about making our relationship right with our cousins. On the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said that before we come to the altar we must go and reconcile ourselves with our brothers and sisters. I encourage you to sign the Radical Love Pledge:

Challenging followers of Christ to love Muslims as He does.

Christian relationships with Muslims have often been characterized by conflict, fear and lack of love. This is the opposite of the way Jesus taught his people to live. As his followers, we are promised a love that casts out fear. We are commanded to love neighbor and even enemy. Therefore we resolve to imitate and obey Jesus by making the following pledge:

• I will repent of any hateful feelings toward Muslims and pursue love.
• I will pray for Muslims that God will bless them and that they will experience His peace.
• I will do at least one act of kindness for a Muslim in this next year.
• I will respectfully share the good news about Christ.
• I will not spread negative stereotypes about Muslims but will season all my words with grace.

Rhumsiki

One day a seasoned missionary here in Meskine declared that we need to see more of Northern Cameroon than just the village we are in now. After much debate in the Shinar household (is it a wise use of our money/time?), we decided to join the group of fellow missionaries and go to Rhumsiki- a tourist destination in the far North/West part of Cameroon (on the border of Nigeria).

The 3 hour drive was very bumpy and Charlie was strapped into her car seat for the first time in 2 months and she had just eaten before we left. Yep, a recipe for disaster! Poor little thing threw up everywhere! Thank God, it happened at a spot on the road that was right next to a well. As I cleaned up her clothes and car seat at the well, a ton of kids came to play with the Nassarra bebe (white baby)!

This is what the drive looked like- kind of reminded me of prehistoric times- just needed some dinosaurs!

When we got to Rhumsiki, we had a guided tour of the village. 

This is Mount Rhumsiki. The legend goes that a long time ago, a hunter (Mr. Siki) from Nigeria came over to the area and loved it so much that he stayed in a cave in this mountain. He had so much meat that he had to smoke it. When a Nigerian chief saw the smoke from the mountain and sent people to check it out. They loved the land and were happy to find a place where they could escape from the invasion of Islam in Nigeria.

It was nice and chilly in Rhumsiki as evidenced by this cute little thing in long pants and a jacket.

On Saturday morning, we went hiking. Here are some pics..

Just like home- agave

Every African hike has to have at least one cow (look on the right)

Here is a close up.

Here are his friends.

At night, we enjoyed the sunset, played games and music, and ate yummy food (TONS of fries!)

On Sunday, the group hiked this mountain (the local guys must hike to the very top before they are allowed to get married- our group hiked half way).

While they hiked, I read this book. It is amazing, but read it if you dare- it will challenge every part of your life! (it is only $1.99 on Kindle!)

We had a fabulous weekend full of rest and fellowship. Now back to language learning for us!

The Burn Bug

Our first week in Cameroon, a missionary told us, "You better just get used to the bugs- they had their house here first!" It took a while, but I have finally stopped freaking out when ants are crawling on my legs, I don't swat at flies unless they are in my eyes, I am used to my legs looking like a connect the dot picture with all of the mosquito bites on them, and I can kill a two inch roach without a single gag. Just when I thought I could deal with any tiny little insect creature...

The "Burn Bug" or 'Nairobi Fly" got me.... or actually I got it.

The "Burn Bug" does not sting or bite humans, but if you kill it kill it and crush it against your skin it contains a toxin that will do this to you....

I didn't even know this little bugger existed! One morning I woke up with what I thought were scratches on my face and chest. After a day, they did not go away. Instead, they got worse! When a seasoned missionary saw them, she told me about my new little friends the "Burn Bug." I think what I did was swat it on my chest and then touch my face. The marks have been here since Wednesday. They look so much better now and feel much better too! The ones on my face are almost gone and I can't feel them, but the chest one feels like I burnt it with a curling iron and it ITCHES like crazy- but I cannot scratch because the skin is raw and oozing! There is really nothing to do for it other than creams and there is no long term complications othern than some unsightly "burns" for a couple of weeks. The Fulbe (Fulani) women often scar themselves as a sign of beauty- well now I have my own set of African beauty marks!

Josh's trip to the marble mine!

The following is a link to Josh's facebook page where he took a trip to the marble mines in Northern Cameroon.  It was an opportunity to see the local industries and visit with various people in the community.  Check it out:

http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.4267567372227.176547.1377334713&type=1&l=6e1564de97

 

 

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!

Shopping Spree

So as soon as we got off the plane in Meskine, I noticed all of the missionaries were wearing African attire. As if I didn’t stand out enough as a white person, my clothes were glaringly different too. I was in need of a makeover shopping spree.  Well to my dismay, there are no Targets in Meskine or even a shop that sells premade clothes. So just in case you find yourself in a similar situation, here is how to get clothes in a rural African village-

Step 1- go to the weekly market with your Fufulde teacher to “practice greetings, “but really with the secret mission to buy cloth. Get her to haggle the price with the sellers. The cost of cloth for an outfit- about $10 each

Step 2- Soak the cloth in vinegar in your cement “shower”. The vinegar is supposed to prevent the colors from fading.

Step 3- spread the cloth out on your porch because it is monsoon season and it looks like this outside

Step 4- take the cloth to the tailor. (I went to 2 in town as to spread around business. This is Christine). Have someone translate for you what you want and hope that they are actually telling them what you want. (I wanted some dresses- they actually turned out to look like HUGE muumuus- not my favorite).

Step 5- wait 1-2 weeks.

Step 6- Either your domestique (house help) will bring the finished outfits to your house or you take your whole family and bike about a mile to the tailor in 95 degree humid weather. Very important- do not wear a wrap skirt while biking. You will flash the people in the village- trust me- been there, done that!

Step 7- Get lost biking and have to call for directions because every mud hut looks alike.

Step 8- Pick up clothes and literally drip sweat on the tailor as she fixes something on the dress. Then ask how much you owe only to have to ask her to write down the price because you have no idea what she said. Each outfit cost between $3-$10 to have hand made for you.

Step 7- On your way home, stop at your Fufulde teacher’s house because she lives next to the tailor and it is rude not to. Also, play with her cute baby. (Daada Esther also made me an outfit that I picked up)

Step 8- Bike home and drink a big glass of iced tea because you are sooo hot and the electricity is off which means no fans either.

Step 9- Look at your new dresses in a mirror and realize you could sneak an entire family into the movie theatre underneath it because it is a HUGE muumuu!

Step 10- Wait another week and get another missionary who can translate for you to go back to the tailor to see if she can make the HUGE muumuus into a less huge version of a muumuu- only to find out that the tailor is not there.

Step 11- Get another missionary to make the journey with you a few days later. This missionary will yell through the open window in order to get the tailor to open the door for you.

Step 12- Try the clothes on in the tailor's house only to realize when you are naked, that you are not alone in there. Thank God that it is only a teenage girl and a few mice- and not some man!

Step 13- Finally 5 weeks later, return home with some new clothes! Christine made dresses for Charlie also! Isn't my "mini-me" cute?!