Je Suis une Infirmìere en Salle D’opération

Our amazing dayworkers

What is a Dayworker?  Dayworkers are: cooks, housekeepers, deckhands, dishwashers, photographers, sterilizers, dental assistants, translators, orderlies & a hundred other things.  They are local people that are hired on to help us while we are in port.  In the hospital, our dayworkers act as translators, nursing assistants & orderlies.  Most of our patients don’t speak English & for most French isn’t their first language.  Our translators speak numerous tribal languages & are able to cross that barrier to allow us to communicate with our patients.

Fatmata learns to prep the patient

Umu, Fatmata & Dereka scrub their hands

Teaching about instruments

In the OR, not only are we blessed with seven amazing translators, but 4 of them are nurses.  They gave up their jobs in the local hospitals to come work with us while we’re here in Guinea.  Officially, their roles in the OR are not those of nurses & none of them have had any OR experience prior to coming to work with us on the ship.  All seemed very eager to expand their nursing knowledge & skill base.  In Guinea, nurses can have 3 years of schooling before becoming a nurse.  With the limited resources & the education foundation available, the schools tell them what a nurse does, but not why nurses do what they do.  We figured 10 months would be enough time to help teach them at least the basics of OR nursing. 

Fatmata scrubs for a hernia surgery

Tina & I started to put materials together to come up with a plan.  We started off with simple things like what is sterile in the room & what is not, the different roles of the nurse in the OR & patient care & safety.  We practiced how to calm the patient & help with anesthesia.  During the week, each dayworker is assigned to one OR to act as the translator/orderly for that room, but also provides an opportunity for mentoring with our crew nurses. 



Umu preps an eye patient for surgery

When the surgery schedule was light, we would have a practicum in one of the ORs.  We would often focus the lesson on the type of surgeries we were doing at the time; during VVF, we practiced positioning patients for a spinal anesthesia & how to put a patient in stirrups.  We learned the importance of a proper surgical prep.  We spent time learning the names of the different instruments & what they do.  And we talked about patient safety & the care of the patient in the OR. 

In the ORs, they put their new knowledge to work.  Soon they were checking in the patients in pre-op, opening supplies & helping to set up the room, initiating the Time Out before the surgery started, counting with the scrub & running for supplies, all the while still doing their official job as a dayworker/translator.    

Gradually, we started to add another aspect to their repertoire: scrubbing.  We practiced scrubbing our hands & how to glove & gown ourselves, how to remain sterile & how to gown & glove others.  We worked on set up, how to pass instruments & handling of the sharps on the field.  They started to double scrub with other nurses to learn & watch how it is done.  Lately, they have been able to scrub for eye surgeries, hernias, lipomas & other smaller cases on their own.  It’s great to see them so involved & happy about their new roles.



Fatmata checks in her "patient" Umu

The other day, Tina & I set up a simulation to test their knowledge of what they had learned so far & to have a little fun.  The scenario was that two of them were the nurses, someone was the patient, Tina was the surgeon & I was anesthesia.  Others played the role of the patient or of PACU or even an observer! 



Fatmata brings her "patient" into the OR

They had to set up the room, check in the patient, & do all the things an OR nurse would do, we would not give them hints or tell them they missed something. 

Each had a role to play.

One would be the circulator- having to help set up the room, preop the patient, helping anesthesia, positioning the patient, doing the Time Out, counting & charting.

Fatmata charts

Someone would be the scrub nurse- opening up the supplies, scrubbing their hands, gowning & gloving themselves, setting up their back table, counting, gowning & gloving the surgeon, helping with draping, maintaining sterility, passing instruments, maintaining the surgical field & handling sharps.

We ran the simulation from start to finish, going through all the steps & everyone had the chance to perform in each role.  At the end, we would discuss what they did well & what they wanted to improve.  It was so much fun! 

Moise & Umu count the instruments

Even though it was a chance for us to assess their knowledge & give them an opportunity to run a room by themselves, they made the atmosphere light & exciting.  These nurses are amazing, they absorb everything we’ve strived to teach them & are gaining confidence in their ability as OR nurses.  Our goal is that when they leave the ship at the end of May, they could get a job in a local OR, if they so choose to, & hopefully, pass on what they had learned.

Umu & Amara talk about the Time Out

Umu passes instruments to "Dr" Tina

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m so proud of our nurses!

Blessings

Patient Stories- Ortho

Here is another story written by one of the ship's writers telling about a young patient by the name of Yaya, an ortho patient who became the Prince of the Ward.  Here's his story...

Yaya meets with Dr Frank

Rather than joyous celebration, the reaction to Yaya’s birth was broken family ties. Yaya’s mother, Salematou, and his father, Abdulaye, were not married when their son was born. The tradition that Salematou’s father lived by did not make room for a child born out of wedlock. Despite Salematou’s pleading with her father to allow her to keep her child, his decision was final. As soon as Yaya could leave his mother’s breast, he was sent to live with Kadiatou, his grandmother on his father’s side.

Living with his grandmother turned out to be a wonderful blessing for Yaya. Kadiatou personifies the bottomless heart and limitless space that African grandmothers offer their children and their children’s children. She assumes whatever responsibility comes her way, no matter the burden. Kadiatou explains, “There are many mouths that I feed in my family. In addition to Yaya, five of my children and their nine children need my support too. Everyone shares in the work of the household, but earning income in Conakry is very difficult. My husband now, Mamadouba, is very old. He gives what money he can, but he has family to support too.”

Yaya stole his grandmother’s heart from day one. His ready smile and eagerness to be close to her formed a thick bond. When tragedy struck Yaya, Kadiatou was distraught. “Yaya started walking when he was one year old, but after taking a few steps he would fall. We tried many traditional medicines, but his condition grew worse. At eighteen months, his legs started to twist and curl up. They failed him entirely.”

Yaya’s uncle, also named Yaya, remembers this as a time of many trials for his mother.  “Kadiatou was so afraid for Yaya. He often had a high fever, and his legs would cramp up terribly. He would cry for hours from the pain. Kadiatou tried everything to soothe him. She held him for hours. Then my father and sister died very close together. My mother’s heart was broken into so many pieces.”

Yaya becomes a favorite on the wards

Kadiatou, who had taken in her daughter’s five children, decided that moving the family to Conakry, the capital of Guinea, was best for Yaya. “I hoped that the medical care Yaya needed was in a big city. As well, I knew that Conakry had schools for handicapped children that Yaya could attend.” Another important reason for the move was that Kadiatou was protecting Yaya from the villagers who thought that children with disabilities were cursed. She would not stand for her grandson being tormented, ridiculed, or forced into hiding.



When Yaya reached five years of age, he started attending the school for handicapped children. “I was so happy for Yaya. He started to learn his letters and bring home things he made,” Kadiatou says. Although there were no school fees and transportation was provided, Kadiatou still had expenses to cover, like school supplies. She made ends meet by going to the Grand Mosque daily and helping with cleaning and cooking. After a full year of being a volunteer, she was finally included in the group that received a weekly stipend, plus donations of money and food from appreciative people attending the Mosque.

Yaya often joined Kadiatou at the Mosque after school, and he soon became a favorite with everyone. In the Muslim faith, people are eager to help the needy as a way of observing sadaqah, the duty to overcome miserliness. Many Muslims wanted Yaya to join the group of handicapped people who begged, so that people could give to him. Kadiatou was against Yaya’s doing this, regardless of the enormous struggle she had to support the family. “I faced so much pressure to allow Yaya, in such obvious need, to help people fulfill their duty to sadaqah. I finally relented,” she explains.

Physical therapy on deck 7

Kadiatou continued to be distressed with Yaya’s participating in sadaqah. She prayed that Yaya would get his education and find an occupation where he could use his sharp mind and very able hands. Kadiatou had many doubts about her prayer being answered, but she remained faithful, clutching that thin bit of hope to her heart.

Yaya himself dared not hope. But then an incredible set of circumstances unfolded around him. Nick Veltjens, who worked with orthopedic patients, saw Yaya at the patient screening location the day before consultations began. “I waited all screening day for Yaya to come because I thought we could help him. We didn’t see him that day, so I sent an email around asking if anyone knew where he was.”



In two long leg casts,
Yaya takes his first steps

According to Yaya, “I did go to the screening with my friend, but I lost my courage.” Yaya left without being examined.

The next day, Dan Bergman, a long-term hospital volunteer, came to Nick with a video of a possible orthopedic patient that he had just seen outside the Mercy Ships Dental Clinic. According to Nick, “What a coincidence that Dan found the same little guy that I was looking for!”

For Dan, this series of events said loud and clear that, “God wanted Yaya to find Mercy Ships. He kept putting him in front of us!” Dan tracked Yaya down at the Mosque and delivered the news that he had an appointment at the hospital ship.

But Yaya missed his appointment. As he says, “I did not believe I could be healed, and so I did not want to tell my grandmother to bring me. She would be too disappointed.” But another divine coincidence occurred that finally put Yaya and Mercy Ships together. A government official, Cellou, who had befriended Yaya at the Mosque, was at the Mercy Ships Dental Clinic that same week. He casually asked what a young boy with deformed legs needed to do to get an appointment. It was quickly realized that the boy in question was Yaya and that he just needed someone to bring him to his appointment.

Cellou immediately went to Yaya’s grandmother with the news about Yaya’s appointment. They agreed that Cellou would go to the hospital ship with the boy. When Kadiatou received the telephone call from Cellou telling her that Yaya was accepted for surgery, she experienced a mixture of emotions. “I was so grateful that Yaya could be helped. It was all that I had prayed for. But I was also very uncertain and afraid. I wondered how it would be possible to fix Yaya’s legs and what he would go through.”

Dr. Frank Haydon, volunteer orthopedic surgeon, was able to fix Yaya’s legs. According to Dr. Frank, “The condition that Yaya was born with caused his bones to be very brittle. As he started to walk, the pressure on the bones caused multiple fractures. The surgery he had aligned his leg bones properly, and the two rods I installed will give his legs the needed strength and structure so he can walk.” 

Each day Yaya does grow stronger. He is starting to take his own steps with the help of a walker, and he has progressed to simple below-the-knee leg casts. But at the same time, each day wears on Kadiatou. She shows the strain of being away from family and being indebted to more and more neighbors. She has borrowed money from them for food and malaria medication. However, regardless of the hardship, Kadiatou’s commitment to see Yaya through his healing journey is unwavering. “I would endure anything so Yaya can do what he longs to do more than anything else – play football. By suffering for Yaya and my family now, I know that there will be great happiness in the future,” she says.

The casts come off!

According to his uncle, Yaya’s journey to hope and healing is summed up in a few words: “Yaya is so loved by everyone on Mercy Ships.” And, still, even with so many kind hearts embracing Yaya, there is one who continues to occupy the most special place in his heart. As clear as a bell, Yaya declares, “I love my Grandmother so much! She has done everything for me.”

 

 

Written by Joanne Thibault

Edited by Nancy Predaina

Photos by Debra Bell and Michelle Murrey

 

Yaya's bright energy & personality made the ward light up.  He spent a good many months with us & it was amazing to watch his transformation.  He has gone to the Hope Center, a place off ship for patients that need follow up visits but don't need round the clock nursing care on the ship.  Things are a tad bit quieter now that he's not here :)

 

Blessings

Patient Stories- VVF

I want to share some of our wonderful, amazing patient's stories with you.  Our wonderful writers on the ship spend some time with a few of the patients, getting their stories down on paper.  They tell of heart break, pain & hope for a better life.  Here is one of those stories...

Above Mariama’s hospital bed someone taped a picture from the day she was admitted. Whenever I visit her, I admire it. That day, she wore a traditional headscarf and an easy smile – radiating of timeless optimism. The faded black-and-white print has a vintage look to it, allowing me to imagine that, if I turn it over, I might find some inky cursive writing that says her location and year. I look at the photograph, and I pretend that Mariama is a mysterious young woman who lived a century ago.

Because in many ways, she is.

Mariama and I are the same age. She was born in rural Guinea, and I in the urban United States. Mariama became pregnant when she was 15 years old; I imagine that she was terrified. Having been married off at age 13, her childhood was cut short, although no shorter than what is expected in her tribe’s culture. When it came time for her to deliver, Mariama’s pelvis was too small, and the hospital was too far. In her Guinean village, she delivered a stillborn baby after three days of labor.
Until I met Mariama, ten years after her agonizing delivery, I had never heard of vesicovaginal fistula. The population of women who need C-sections but cannot have them wasn’t a reality for me. I didn’t appreciate the social impact of VVF or recognize just how many women – more than 2 million, according to the UN Population Fund – suffer from it in sub-Saharan Africa and parts of Asia.

When 15-year-old Mariama did not have access to emergency obstetric care, the pressure of the fetus and the trauma of the obstructed birth tore a hole in the wall between her vagina and bladder. Until the hole can be surgically closed, Mariama will leak urine continuously, as she has for the past decade. She tells me the story of her delivery, her stillborn baby and subsequent pain with mixed emotions – grief for the child she lost, and gratefulness for the fact she lived. You see, VVF is the mark of a woman who did not die in childbirth; it is only endured by survivors. The fluid trickling down Mariama’s legs and the odor that follows her wherever she goes are the consequences of her narrow escape.



After surgery

In the United States, stories like Mariama’s haven’t been told in more than 100 years. In the delivery rooms of the developed world, VVF is preempted with a cesarean section or, in the rare cases, promptly repaired. When natural labor fails, modern medicine prevails. Today, VVF keeps company with obsoletes like smallpox and polio in the shadows of Western medicine, where its symptoms are referenced in the past tense.

In the developing world, VVF is Mariama’s reality. Because the odor of leaking body fluid is powerful, the social stigma of VVF is harsh. When it became evident that Mariama’s condition was not going to correct itself, her husband left her. Mariama was unable to sell fabric in the market because her skirt was always wet – and, without the support of her husband or his family, she had no means of supporting herself. For women suffering from VVF, physical diagnosis becomes a debilitating social prognosis.

Eager to restore the health of her oldest daughter, Mariama’s mother sold the family’s ten cows to pay for transportation to Conakry and surgery. In this, Mariama was fortunate that such resources were available and that her mother didn’t turn her out as so many families do. Most of the women I've met with VVF in the wards have lived their lives in solitude, ostracized by their husbands and families.

Mariama overcame significant obstacles in logistics and finance to get from her small village to a hospital in Conakry. Unfortunately, the surgeons could not fix her fistula. Local doctors suggested she seek surgical care from the hospital ship that would soon arrive in Guinea.

On their referral, Mariama came to the dock in her nicest dress and headscarf, still hopeful that someone could help her.  But Mariama’s surgery onboard the Africa Mercy couldn’t repair the damage. Across the ward, two other VVF patients, Isabel and Kada, had received the same prognosis. The three women gathered around each other, sitting on absorbent blue and white cotton pads, softly crying.



Some of the ladies on the ward

While Mercy Ships nurses wrapped their arms around the weeping women, I thought about the long walk that brought the three of them here. They were let down by their culture, which married them too young. They were let down by motherhood, which had rendered them incontinent. They were let down by their husbands, who rejected them for the smell. They were let down by their society, which considered them unworthy of love. These women, I thought, have been consistently abused by this world. The urine that trickles down their legs each day reminds them they have known no mercy in this life.

But after the disappointment had subsided, Mariama caught her breath. “I will keep trying,” she said to me. "I have seen other women in here be healed from this, and I want to be healed. They did not tell me that there is no hope."

I had underestimated her spirit. In my narrow focus of her situation, I had lost sight of the reality of Mariama’s character – an abbreviated youth, a traumatizing delivery, a lost child and painful rejection. Yet here she was. Mariama is a survivor. Why should this be any different?

The following week, seven patients who had successfully recovered were discharged from the Africa Mercy hospital. As part of the Mercy Ships VVF program, the women are given new dresses when they are discharged to symbolize their re-entry into society. The Dress Ceremony marks the beginning of new life, but I worried that celebrating the happy endings would magnify the disappointments of others.

I was wrong. There was no trace of disappointment in the ward that day, only pure happiness. If the discharged VVF ladies were brides, then the ladies in hospital gowns were their eager bridesmaids, giddy with hopeful anticipation for their own big day. In my office two flights above the ward, the music came through the corridor. I went downstairs to find the women of B Ward dancing and singing. Even the women kept in bed by their catheters waved their arms and clapped. If not for the bright dresses, I could not have distinguished who had been healed – by the looks of it, they all were healed. Just as the VVF women were united by their difficult journeys, so were they united in each other's joy. I thought about what Mariama had said to me – that she believes healing is possible – and I realized the importance and strength of hope.

Advancements in emergency obstetrics in the developing world are decades away from making VVF history; according to the World Health Organization, an estimated 100,000 women are newly affected each year. Within our Western hospitals, VVF is a thing of the black-and-white past – but for Mariama, and many just like her, it is still a reality. Mercy Ships may not always be able to undo the damage. Not every patient is a success story. But no matter the outcome, we show them love, acceptance, and a life worth hoping for. The wound Mariama carries may never be healed. Yet, in spite of her hard journey, the hope she carries will never be drained.

I taped a photograph of the Dress Ceremony above my desk – right next to my copy of the picture Mariama had over her hospital bed. What I like most about the colorful print of dancing women is that when I look at it, I don’t see a long history of suffering and let-downs – I see the future.

Story by Catherine Murphy
Edited by Nancy Predaina












This is just one of the many heartbreaking stories we hear on the ward.  VVF is a terrible thing that effects millions of women world wide & is 100% preventable!  These women are beautiful, loving & the strongest people I've ever met.  It is true that sometimes we can't repair the women, the damage being too severe, but with God's help, we can be successful in healing these women & for that we are thankful.  Dress ceremonies are important, not just for the ladies who are dry & ready to go on with their lives, but also for the doctors & nurses who take care of them, it lets us know that its all worth it just to see those beautiful ladies with big smiles on their faces proclaiming to the world they are dry & healed! 

Please continue to pray for our ladies.  The ones who are dry & most importantly those who are not yet & those who may never be. 

Blessings

Crossing the Border

Its been over a year since I’ve last seen the beautiful country of Sierra Leone.  Being here in Conakry, we are only 4 hours from the border & another 4 hours to Freetown. A group of us decided that that was close enough for us to go for a visit. 



Our taxis

A little pit stop on the side of the road

We needed to find a taxis that would take us across the 8+ hours to Freetown.  That wasn’t a problem, per say, plenty of taxis go back & forth every day between the two capitols.  We went to the big market in town to the taxis stand, & found a car going our way.  Problem was that it wouldn’t go until all 9 seats were full!  We bought 4 seats for the 3 of us (usually the car had 2 seats in the front, 4 seats in the middle & 3 seats in the back & we wanted to make sure we had plenty of room for our 8 hour trip)

Three hours later, our car was full & packed sky high.  We left Conakry behind us & with only a couple stops to put water in the radiator, we made it to the border after dark.  No problems crossing the border, all of our papers were in order & we arrived in Freetown later that night.

We arranged to spend 2 nights at the Hope Center, where we had stayed the 2 weeks we were on field service all so long ago at the end of Gateway.  The place looked exactly the same- down the colorful tie-died sheets.  Donald, the care taker, took excellent care of us.

Relaxing at the Hope Center

It was a weekend traveling down memory lane.  We surprised our friends at Yams Farm by showing up to see what changes have been done.  The school was still on break from the holidays, but Pastor Mark rang the school bell & soon we were surrounded by lots of familiar faces of the children.  They proudly showed us around the completed school.  The roof was on, the floors poured, with a walk way between the buildings, the walls were painted the school’s colors & gave it a nice finished touch.  Now instead of 6 classes in one small room, each building had 2-3 classes in it, with the nursery class still in the church building.  The school size almost doubled since we were there, they now have a secondary school in the afternoon.

The kids welcome us back

Between the church & the lower building

After spending an enjoyable morning at Yams Farm, we went shopping at Waterloo market, a typical African market where you can buy anything from chickens to a cell phone & you have to barter for everything.  A couple of the teachers from the school took a break from grading papers to help us in the market & arrange rides for us to & from the market in the local public transportation, Pouda Poudas- vans that hold about 15 people but have the African mentality that there’s always room for one more!  We bought supper of street meat (really yummy meat that they grill right in front of you), bread & oranges on the side of the road & walked down the bumpy dirt road to the Hope Center.  We had a relaxing evening sitting in the gazebo eating & enjoying the views.

Shopping at the market

The next day we enjoyed the great Sierra Leone beaches at a place called John Obey.  We had never gone there when the ship was in country, but friends told us that the place was amazing.  The village, called Tribe Wanted, was an eco-friendly community right on the beach.  They recycle, compost, raise their own food & have farming & health classes for the locals.  To help with income, they have a resort atmosphere with little bungalows for rent.  We spent the entire afternoon relaxing on the beach, enjoying the sun & waves.  A typical African lunch of rice, cassava & fish was served & they killed some chickens for us for dinner.  We slept in a mud hut that was anything but roughing it.

It's a hard life

The perfect spot

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our mud hut

Inside our mud hut

All to soon, we had to say goodbye to Sierra Leone& return to Guinea. It was hard to leave again a second time. It was nice to see friends again& know that I will always have connections in a beautiful country like Sierra Leone.

 

Blessings

An African Christmas

Santa Lucia

Merry Christmas!  Another year is almost over & I have no idea where the time has gone!  Last year at this time we were between outreaches, just finished in Sierra Leone & were recovering in Ghana before moving on to Togo.  This year though we are in the middle of a field service here in Guinea.  A slightly different feel to the Christmas holiday this year with the hospital still open & patients still on board, we aren’t doing any surgeries over the two week holiday break. 

The OR door

The Christmas elves snuck on board again this year & the ship took on a very festive look around the first of December.  We celebrated a lot of different Christmas traditions from all over the world.  First there was Sintaklaus- a Dutch holiday celebrating St. Nicholas; then Santa Lucia- a Scandinavian holiday celebrating St. Lucia.  We had Christmas markets & cooking baking & gingerbread house contests.  The annual door decorating contest is always a big favorite.  The OR has the reputation of having some amazing door designs- we didn’t disappoint!  We took first place in the traditional office door category!

Merry Christmas from the OR!

Christmas Scrub Day



Advent wreath

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BBQ on the dock

As Christmas approached, we had a BBQ on the dock, followed by Carrols by Candlelight- a very Australian tradition, complete with The African Wiggles showing up with Santa Claus!  A fun evening of friendship & fellowship.

Light a candle

African Wiggles!

Silent Night! Holy Night!

Christmas Day arrived with the hallway outside our cabin doors piled with presents & a lovely Christmas brunch waiting for us in the dining room.  The food was amazing- ham, mashed potatoes, omelets, hashbrowns, greenbean casseroles. 



Oh the weather outside is frightful!

Come buy from me- I'll give you good price!

Here on the ship we celebrate Boxing Day… a continuation of the Christmas holiday.  This year I took advantage of being in a very warm climate & took the boat over to Rooma Island, just off the coast.  A fun, relaxing day in the sun enjoying the ocean, listening to a local band play & just having a day off.  So nice!

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas time.  Joyeux Noel!

 

Blessings

Waterfalls

Guinea is beautiful.  The landscape is so green & lush, the flowers are vibrant & the bold colors are overwhelming.  It’s been called the Switzerland of Africa.  The farther inland you go, the more mountainous it becomes.


The road gets a little bumpy

Thank God for Landrovers!

We might be off the beaten path...

Sheep!

A group of us took an adventure about an hour inland to a place called Dubreka.  Our map was a little sketchy- having been drawn by another Mercy Shipper using directions like if you’ve past the small plane you have gone to far or turn right at the tree in the middle of the road, or keep the mountain that looks like a ship on your left.  But it was an adventure & we were keen to go see where we’d end up.

Dubreka Falls

We did see the plane & we did have to turn around & retrace our steps & yes we didn’t turn right at the tree in the middle of the road & ended up driving on a foot path through a tiny village, but we did finally make it to our destination- Dubreka Waterfalls.

Enjoying the water

The water was amazing, cool & refreshing, very clean.  The rainy season was just over & the falls were running full.  We explored & played & just enjoyed ourselves.  The locals watched us from above & liked to show off by jumping from the top of the falls into the pool below.

Our group

We sat on the rocks & let the water wash over us.  Some of us braved the rushing water to sit behind the falls.  The rest of us had floating races down below.

Lunch

After we got our fill of swimming, we headed back to the hotel where we had parked our landrovers.  Before we had gone to the waterfall, we had ordered lunch, knowing that it would probably be an hour or two before it would be ready.  We had asked what was for lunch & they had told us chicken with french fries.  We ordered 7 plates for our group of 15, thinking that they’d cut the chicken we saw just plucked in the kitchen into enough pieces for us.  But when we returned, they had 7 WHOLE chickens waiting for us, all freshly killed, plucked & cooked!  I’ve never had a whole chicken like this before (no where near the same as a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store- this one still had its neck & legs attached!)  Not what we were expecting, but good all the same.  Oh the joys of living in Africa!

A WHOLE chicken!

Blessings!

Give Thanks

Its difficult to believe that it’s the end of November when the weather is a cool 85 degrees with high humidity & thunderstorms almost every night.  If it wasn’t for calendars & facebook reminding me what time of year it is, I might have missed Thanksgiving!

The US Ambassador's house

Super excited about dinner

I got the opportunity to accept an invitation to have a potluck Thanksgiving dinner at the US Ambassador’s house, only 15 Americans from the ship were invited & I was one of the lucky few!  The food was amazing, everything you could imagine- turkey, gravy, 3 different types of stuffing, green bean casserole, mac & cheese, potatoes, cranberry sauce.  I felt like I was home.  We ate outside under a covered patio, the cool tropical breeze made it very enjoyable. 

We ate & ate until we all felt overly stuffed, then we went back for dessert!  It was nice to just sit & talk to other Americans (from the ship, or from the embassy or just living in the country).  We didn’t have to explain what Thanksgiving was, why we eat the foods we eat or try to convince people to try things like pumpkin pie. 



My American family

Yes- I ate everything on my plate

Wishbone!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After dinner, we sat in the ambassador’s living room just talking, too full to move.  The power went out at one point, but we didn’t care, just a reminder that we were still in Africa.  The house staff brought out candles & we were all amazed because we haven’t seen lit candles in a long time (open flames are not allowed on the ship, so no candles).  Even when the lights came back on a half hour later, we couldn’t blow out the candles quite yet, though when we did, we fought over who would blow them out!  I hope we didn’t make the ambassador think we were crazy or something!

Sunset from the Ambassador's house

What a fun, memorable night!  I wasn’t with my family, but I was with my American family, for which I am thankful for.

Blessings