Festus

Until this past weekend the last time I saw, or spoke with, Festus was the last weekend of June. The other interns had taken off to Tamale to explore the city, and I took a working weekend in Sandema while waiting to travel down to Kumasi with the moms & babies. On Friday, before the June weekend, I lamented to Festus about being "all alone" in Sandema and told him he should hang out with me to make sure I didn't die of boredom. Of course, I was over-exaggerating, and I expected him to have bigger things to do on the weekend than entertain his SmalleSmalle colleague. So Sunday afternoon when I received a text from him I was pleasantly surprised, and rather excited, to hop on the back of his motorcycle and ride to his home town of Chuchuliga for a visit.  

We spent several hours touring the town, sharing food & drinks with his childhood friends, and laughing about "white people" things. This involved Festus teasing every Ghanaian that couldn't pronounce my name (aka every Ghanaian) and teasing me about my Canadian English by asking me to repeat phrases and waiting to see if anyone could decipher my "rapid fire" speech. When asked about how I like the food in Ghana Festus told his friend that I cook Koko really well & we both laughed at the inside joke: one time I unsuccessfully tried to cook Koko, a local dish of millet, pepper and ginger, that is served warm for breakfast. Though it didn’t turn out as hoped I was determined to eat the globby mess so not to waste food. When I arrived at the office chewing gravol, and mentioned breakfast had made me sick, Festus went into a fit of hysterics.  

After leaving Chuchuliga proper we stopped in to visit his family's home. I met all of his extended family and practiced my Buli with them. Every family house we went to tried to feed me and, when I turned down dinner, I left with a handful of guinea fowl eggs.  Riding home Festus drove the bike through the most pothole-ridden part of the road, and then pulled over. "Your turn" he said as he hopped onto the back and waited for me to start the engine again. I drove through dusk across the dusty roads, listening to Festus guide me as he anticipated potholes and curves in the road, and wound up back in quiet Sandema light up only by moonlight. It was a "this place is beautiful!" kind of days. 

After thanking Festus for an enjoyable afternoon I told him I'd leave for Kumasi in the morning. Knowing he'd be traveling the next week I suggested a "see you when I see you". As I walked away, and he started up his bike, I turned around to add "Festus! Don't get in any accidents okay?!" 

He smiled and shook his head. "Oh. No, no." he said. 

"Okay then," I replied "but drive safe!"  

That was almost four weeks ago.  

This past weekend I stood in the Tamale hospital, with my other colleagues, as we saw Festus for the first time since his motorcycle accident. This accident occurred weeks following the day we went to Chuchuliga, but I still felt sick remembering my last words to him before his accident were "drive safe". We don't fully know what happened, and the exact details of all of this aren't my story to share here. What's certain is motorcycle accidents happen everywhere, and here is no exception. It doesn't make Ghana any more or less dangerous than anywhere else, it just makes it victim to the same catastrophic life events people encounter at home. And just like everywhere else, these kind of life events send everyone reeling. 

 Festus has some serious injuries, but is not in the critical condition he was when the accident first occurred. His condition is hopeful, and for that we are all grateful. It goes without saying however, that seeing a friend hurt is never easy, and all of us interns were saddened. 

"What do you want to do when your contract is done with CBR?" I asked Festus one time in the CBR office before any of this happened. "I don't know." he said. "I just know I am not going to stay here forever oh. I have big dreams."  

And as I stood before Festus in the hospital, I remembered this conversation, and I asked Maxwell if I could pray for him. While I was unable to find words to articulate everything I wanted to I know the words in my heart were heard. I prayed for healing, for his family, and that his big dreams will come true. I continue to hope and pray that life in the “new normal” that comes after this kind of accident will be beautiful. 

And of course, before I left, I told Festus he needs to get better soon so I can cook him some Koko. 

I Did (Not) Sign Up For This

"I didn't sign up for this" is a phrase I was tempted to say on many occasions in Kumasi while waffling between feeling encouraged and totally, and completely, overwhelmed. Many times I wanted to retreat into a defensive mode in which I could argue I never took on SFD to live in a hostel in a city with a water/electricity crises, navigate a foreign health care system while caring for a family I hardly know, attempt to complete project reports and school papers in less than ideal working settings, and come face-to-face with my many shortcomings and seeming inabilities. Surely, I didn't sign up for this. 

And yet, every time I came close to wanting to say it I was reminded this, this project, is exactly what I signed up for. I signed up for the unknown, to work with CBR and assist CBR clients in whatever way was most meaningful, to be challenged, and to learn about development and myself in the process. Working on something bigger than I could have envisioned is exactly what I signed up for and I have gotten to be a part of something huge.

This project, this adventure, this roller coaster I have been on, this is exactly what I signed up for. And maybe someday I will be able to articulate just what this experience has meant for me. Just now I know the picture is bigger than what I can see. I'm too embedded in the image to be able to tell you what all it means but I'll give you a one word preview (if only I could say it for you and pronounce it the beautiful, drawn-out, Ghanaian way that is so common here): "wow".

Wow, oh, wow. This thing I "didn't sign up for" is a pretty beautiful gift.

Continued Cleft Care

Thanks so much to everyone that has been following Angelina & Margaret’s care and offering their help.  I’m still amazed by the generosity that allowed us to arrange not one, but two, life-changing surgeries!

After our last round of medical care in Kumasi we have learned Margaret is due for a second, and final, surgery this November. This will be to repair her cleft palate: a surgery that can't be done until after she has fully recovered from her cleft lip surgery. We’d like to raise $475 to ensure this surgery can happen. Check out our Fundrazr (please note the link is new) for more information and to donate.

Since Katie and I won’t be in Ghana in November we have built-in a budget to have someone from CBR travel with Lydia to help her navigate the hospital and second surgery. Margaret will need a follow-up visit to Kumasi and that's included too, along with a contingency fund for the 'expected' unexpected expenses. We'd like to have this amount raised before we leave Ghana so we can ensure everything is left in order for Margaret's surgery.

Here’s where we stand with the financials.

	Amount  (CDN $)
Amount Previously Fundraised	916.00
Angelina Expenses Incurred	521.27
Margaret Expenses Incurred	303.61
Margaret Expenses Anticipated	566.12
Funding Needed	475.00

As always I welcome your questions! Thank you for your generosity in giving and your faithfulness in prayer!

Fundrazr Campaign Page: https://fundrazr.com/campaigns/aYpe9

Bravery

I've commented already on the bravery of the two moms I have met through working on cleft care. Angelina's mom, Tenee, and Margaret's mom, Lydia, are remarkable women. They have trusted us to travel 15 hours across the country, stay in an unfamiliar city where they don't speak the language, and allowed us to organize cleft surgeries. Their dedication to their daughters is evident in all of this, but it's also not the half of it. 

"They tell me she is a spirit child, but I don't care. I told them that I like it and I want her." Is what Lydia told us this week as she described her community's reaction to Margaret's cleft lip. In Northern Ghana tradition dictates children born with disabilities or abnormalities are to be considered evil spirits. These children are thought to be capable of bringing misfortune on a family and are neglected, or killed, as a result of their condition.  Spirit children are often victims of infanticide at the hands of their own mothers who fear the community's reaction to their child, or traditional healers (ie. witch doctors), who poison spirit children to appease the community's fears of what they don't understand.

Reports coming from Northern Ghana suggest spirit child slayings are on the decline, but the reports that say spirit child slayings have been eradicated couldn't be more wrong. Lydia told us about seeing ‘spirit children’ born, and returning to visit the mothers only to find them without a baby. When pressed to answer questions about the baby women say "It died" or "I didn't have a baby." Lydia refrained from providing us too much detail, but the few details we heard were heartbreaking.

"They don't think they are human." She told us. And as she cuddled Margaret, telling us about the spirit child tradition and how community members think her daughter isn't human, all I could think is how brave this woman before me, and our mom back in Sandema, are. 

Lydia and Tenee have literally fought for the lives of their daughters. They haven't just refused to kill their daughters, they have refused to abandon them, refused to neglect them, and chosen instead to grant them unconditional acceptance. In daring to keep the unwanted they have chosen to love the 'unlovable' with all of their hearts. Defying long-standing cultural norms has been the cost of this love, and they have gladly taken the cost on.

And in all of this I can say with certainty that cleft surgeries for Angelina and Margaret won't put an end to the spirit child phenomenon. It may not even change the fact that these two little girls are thought to be less than human, but I can also say it is definitely more than just a surgery. Health impact of a cleft repair not to be forgotten, a cleft surgery is a physical symbol of the war their families wage. A repaired lip symbolizes not just that their families will permit them to continue living, but that they will fight for the best for their child, because it's their child. These cleft surgeries speak to the children's value that is daily affirmed by their loving and accepting families.  And it’s families like Angelina’s and Margaret’s that will play roles in putting an end to the spirit child phenomenon.

And I think it's a pretty wonderful gift to have been given the opportunity to play a tiny role in this ongoing battle. 

Leaving Kumasi

Margaret and mom Lydia

Margaret less than 40 hours after her cleft lip surgery

The "Planning" Thing

On July 1st as I headed out the door to leave for Kumasi I briefly entertained the idea of bringing my passport with me "just in case".  My visitor's visa was due to expire on July 16th and I wondered about renewing in Kumasi. I decided against it for three reasons: 1. the other interns and I had plans to cross over to Burkina early in July, 2. if by the 16th I still hadn't made it back to Sandema there would be bigger issues to sort out than my visa, 3. I figured my passport was safer locked away in Sandema than traveling with me to Kumasi.

Fast forward to discovering our surgery date wasn't until July 11th. There were issues bigger than my visa: no panic. I still had every expectation of being back in Sandema with enough time to cross the border before my visa expired.

Fast forward again to July 11th when the surgery was rescheduled to July 15th: minor panic.
And then things came together. I commissioned a fellow intern to fetch my passport (and extra anti-malarials) from my house and drop them off with my boss. He then dropped off my important package at the bus station, and sunday morning a bus employee delivered the package to my hotel (all of which put me out a whopping $12). Relieved, I headed to Ghana Immigration first thing Monday morning (as soon as I could leave the hospital) and begged for my new application to be processed quickly. When they promised to have it done by Wednesday I was relieved: it would be done before Margaret would be released from the hospital.

And then Today (Tuesday) things fell apart. Margaret was released from the hospital (fantastic news!) and my passport couldn't be in hand early. For a mad three hours Katie and I tag-teamed Margaret's discharge, getting a hotel for the night, visiting Immigration, buying bus tickets, feeding the family, and, finally, a pharmacy run. In the end we determined Lydia, Margaret, and Katie (colleague extraordinaire and all-round wonderful friend) will travel to Sandema Wednesday while I wait for my passport. Lydia is so excited to return home and see her husband, and son, it seemed cruel for us all to wait on my passport so we could travel together.

I'm SO excited Margaret has been released and she and Lydia can return home to their family! I am trying to be excited about one more day in Kumasi, although I too can't wait to be back in Sandema. I have purchased a bus ticket for 7am on Thursday in faith that all my paperwork will come together and I will be returning to Sandema before the weekend.  Although (knock on wood) maybe it's better not to plan for it.