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Shanksteps #148

As you already know, life here is far from boring. Three days ago I got a message from the health district that there was a meeting two days later lasting three days. This meeting was in Maroua, three hours away. Well I had not scheduled any surgeries for two of those days so I decided to go all but the one day. This meeting involves all the hospitals and health districts for the far North of Cameroon. I planned on going the first day and due to circumstances waited till the second day to go.
This morning I get up at 5:30 to the alarm. I get out of bed, it’s still dark. Get my things together, put on my helmet and head out the door. I’ve decided to take the motorcycle because it costs to much to take the car to Maroua ($50) and I have nothing else to bring back, so it would have been an empty trip. I just replaced the rear brake pads on the motorcycle yesterday. They seems to be working well. The sun is just coming up as I crest the top of the hill leaving Koza. It’s a beautiful morning. All along the road there are women and girls with clay pots on their shoulders, heading for the wells, to fill the pots with water. Unlike other heavy objects which are carried on their heads, these pots are carried on the back of the shoulder when full. Dogs scurry past as I round a corner. Three boys, one with only a shirt on, one naked, and the other with pants and shirt, all run out to the road, waving and yelling “nassara!” I wave and smile to myself thinking of
how little boys all over the world are the same. They would rather be naked and dirty then any other way.
After 45 minutes I make it to Mokolo. This is where the pavement begins. I’m making good time. I pass many high school students in their blue uniforms walking along the road toward school. I try to honk and then remember I do not have a functional battery so the horn doesn’t work. In a few spots where children are crossing the road in front of me I rev my engine to make my presence known. I get about 15 miles out of Maroua and my engine looses power. I rev again but it keeps loosing and then the engine locks up. I am near a little village. I push the motorcycle to the little market area. Moto mechanics eye me with glee. White guy + big moto = big money! I leave my moto and walk away. I try to call the guy who repairs my moto in Maroua without success. I walk over to some old guys sitting in front of a little shop. After questioning they indicate a man who could watch my moto. He is an older man front of another shop. My motorcycle is larger (600cc) and more
expensive than others here so I prefer not to leave it with people for fear it will get stolen. I have no choice. He pushes it inside his little storage building along side the sacs of millet and corn. I then ask him how to get to Maroua. He says he will take me. He places a little cushion on the back rack of his small 90cc moto and off we head toward Maroua. We get there at 8:30 when my meeting is to start.
Near the bridge, under some trees, is a area that motorcycles are repaired. This is obvious by black sand under the trees. Black from all the oil changes emptied out on the ground. My mechanic is not their yet. The guy who’s driving me lets some guy who knows the mechanics house use his moto, so this other guy and I head off for the mechanics house. We arrive and he is just leaving. I explain the situation. He says he will take care of it. I give him the key and go to my meeting.
At 11;30 on our first break I go to the same trees and see my moto there. They took a moto and with an outstretched foot, pushed it all the way back to Maroua, one rider on each. He says I ran out of oil and the engine seized up. Oh how stupid! It never used to burn oil, so I stopped checking it. He says he’ll take it apart tomorrow, put a battery in it, fix the muffler too and bring it back to me in Koza. I’m sure it will be costly, but the service is great. I head back to my meeting.
They have cut the meeting to two days, so this was the last day. I ask for a ride with someone else returning to Koza. While driving from Maroua to Mokolo we hit a pothole and a battery light comes on. The truck continues running so we continue. Arriving in Mokolo we drop off one person. The truck will not start. Under the hood we see that the alternator is loose and the fan belt is so loose that it is not turning anything. The owner of the vehicle goes to find a mechanic at his home, to repair it and get a push start. I grab a passing moto. He takes me to the market where I look for a moto to take me home. I tell them the price I am willing to pay. He takes me to a group of motos and dicker about the price. They give him 500F and I leave with that person. He is from Koza and gave the guy the 500 ($1) for finding him a client.
We roll through the night with a headlight pointed at the stars. He does not have a battery. This is apparent by the fact that when the RPM of the moto drops down the headlight dims to nothing. So its with constant revving the engine that we can see and slowly make it back the rocky road to Koza. 12 miles in 1.5 hours. We arrive safely at my house and I pay him 2000F ($4) for the trip.
I’m thankful for Gods protection of this day. Greg

Just to let all of you know that Faissam passed away this past weekend. Im so glad that it is God who reads hearts and not man. And God, who loves us so much, is our judge. I plan on seeing Faissam in heaven some day. Hope to see each of you also. Greg

I have just gone to sleep. I am awakened by a knock on the window. I stumble out of bed, and stick on something presentable. I find the guard of the hospital standing there with a carnet. A 18 year old boy from here in Koza was in a fight and stabbed in the back. I tell him I’ll be in. I fumble around and find my keys and my headlamp. It is cool outside. The moon is nearly full and I can walk into the hospital without a light. A dog runs past me in his search for food. I hear the cry of the bush babies in the near by treas. It does, in fact, sound somewhat like the cry of a baby. I shine my light in the trees and see two large eyes staring back, then they are gone. I see his 8 inch form jumping easily 8-10 feet. Wish I could jump like that little guy.
On the metal gurney in the dressing room lays a teenager with a pool of blood around his back. I see a small hole in his left flank about 1.5 cm wide. I take a forcep and probe it’s depth. It sinks in easily up to about 8 cm. This confirms what I was hoping to refute, he needed an operation. I call Jacques and Ganava. Only one is around and the other is in Mokolo. I have to use the night nurse again in the place of him. We take the kid to the OR. Prep him and give Ketamine. He falls to sleep. I open the abdomen. It looks normal. I search around and see a small hematoma near the splenic flexure of the colon. I free up the colon in this area and find a small hole in the back wall. I repair this and we close him up. I go home about 3AM.
Over the next few days he feels fine and his intestines start working. He begins eating without problem. The father of the guy who stabbed him has a business in Maroua but is unwilling to pay. He was on many days of IV antibiotics and now has a huge bill. He has not paid anything. Today when I make rounds he had run away. He is feeling good, eating, and now is at home in our village. That’s the risk of caring for people before they pay for their treatment. And it seems that it happens most often with the young men of the village who have been in fights. That’s another huge sum of money lost. We will again try to get the chief of the village to intervene, but sometimes that does not help recuperate lost money. Greg

We have come to visit Faissam. He calls to his wife and she brings up a tree stump for me to sit on. He offers a flat rock to Avava. At the head of his plastic mat is a semi-flat rock that he lays his head on. His shirt has a couple buttons at the top. It gapes open at the bottom revealing his stomach mass. He notices and pulls the edges together, to hide the reality. We do the usual greeting, which consists of asking how he is doing, how is his health, how is his family and relatives. Like in the US everything is “fine” even though in reality you know it isn’t. Isn’t it kind of bizarre that we show concern for one another in such a superficial way, but rarely ever go beyond that to reality, or a deeper level of friendship. It’s often just to keep up appearances and not let others know how things are really going. It’s sad that we don’t support each other as real friends more often and share how things are really going. True concern for others is definitely a true Christian attribute.
A couple of teenage boys come sauntering up to see why a white guy is at Faissam’s house. They greet us all and then sit down under a near by tree. We sit in the hot sunshine with a slight breeze. I pray internally to know how to start with him. He says it’s a good time for him too. So I started before creation. “Before there was a world God existed. He, Jesus, angels and a perfect environment. God and Jesus decided to make the universe that we know. He made the sun, moon and our planet. (I try to keep this as simple as possible, so that everyone present can understand) After the world was created God made plants, animals, and humans. He made a special garden to put the first humans in. This was a perfect place. There was no sickness, no pain, no death. All types of plants, trees, fruits and vegetables grew there. Humans could walk and talk with God during that time. About that time the most important angel started thinking thoughts against God. He thought it unfair that God and Jesus had created a world without his help. He became jealous and wanted to be like God. He convinced 1/3 of the angels of his opinion. They could not be like God so he had to remove them from the perfect place. That is when he started to be called by the name devil. It was then that he came to earth and lied to the first humans and they believed him. This is how pain and suffering entered the first perfect garden. Because before that everything was perfect. Because humans had believed the devil and his lie, and disobeyed God, they had live outside the perfect garden. The and because they did not obey God they had the consequences of difficulty in life, birth and growing food. That’s why there are thorns, death, drought and people are not nice to each other. They steal, cheat, and kill each other.” A couple more little boys and girls ran up to see what was happening. An old woman with a cane walked up and sat down too. We talked of how Christ was born to a virgin in a way that assured that His birth was not normal like ours. “He did have a mother and father but He was born before they “knew” each other. He learned about God like you and I. He studied nature and talked to God. He saw the miraculous things, like how a little seed becomes a huge tree. He noticed how male and female animals can create life, babies. He saw how birds fly and probably thought it amazing how our eyes can see different colors, see clearly close and at a distance, and see dark things and light things. He grew up with his parents and learned his fathers work, carpentry. He wasn’t like normal children. He was respectful, kind and loving to everyone, even those who made fun of him. His parents knew he was the savior because an angel had told them so. So as he grew they were not surprised, and they noticed the differences.”
It was getting dark so I told him I guessed that we must go. I asked him if we should come back again to talk. He said that would be great and we could stay into the night if we wanted to. I don’t know how to tell some with his beliefs about God but he seems to be very open and interested in knowing. Please pray that I will be inspired with the right words that will help him to understand and want a relationship with God. Greg