Learning Experience

Yesterday, Sister Peace and I interviewed a lady to be my “housekeeper” while I’m living in Sierra Leone. Sister Peace knew her. Her name is Patricia Kamara. She lives on Stocco Road close to the compound, and she’s actually helped the Sisters and other people who have stayed in the house I’m living in before. They call her “Auntie P”. She will be cooking for me on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and making sure to cook extra food that I can heat up in my new microwave on her days off. I feel a little awkward. I’ve never had a housekeeper or a cook all to myself before. But I’m grateful. I hope we get along.

My time in the hospital has continued to be pleasant. Everyone I meet welcomes me and says they are so happy that I am in Sierra Leone. Nobody, not one person, has acted as if I’m a hinderance or a bother to have around. On the contrary, everyone praises me and says I’m a fast learner. I still feel like a small child learning their first steps sometimes. But many times, people will ask me general nursing questions and they are impressed with my knowledge. It helps me remember that I am a fully trained nurse and not a new nurse fresh out of school. Though I do feel that I’m more of a mascot to the nursing team and not a fully-fledged member yet. People still laugh at my shaky Krio and need to help me understand the simplest task. But they applaud my efforts.

The other day I helped with a bed bath. It wasn’t in bed though. It was in a shower…on the floor…the stone cold, very slippery shower floor. I did not come to criticize how things are done in an African hospital. Maybe they had a very good reason for not having the bath in a bed. But as I was crouching in the dank, dark shower, supporting the patient’s back while another nurse scrubbed soap into the patient’s eyes, I couldn’t help but think, “There’s got to be a better way!” It was exactly like in those infomercials! At that moment I was in the black and white section of an ad. Maybe I can come up with the colorized part of the ad. I hope there is a better way and placing the patient on the shower floor is not the only way. Either way it was a good learning experience and something to think about.

The hospital has also been very generous. They have provided me with a water barrel for storage in case the water in my house gets turned off. They’ve also given me a fan that I can charge during the day and keep on at night to help me stay cool while I sleep. I think it also gives Auntie P some relief while she cooks in my kitchen, which is nice. It does take longer for tasks to get done in Africa. Figuring out my phone and WiFi has been a challenge. But everything works out in the end. So, I’m not worried or discouraged about delays or bumps in the road happening. Especially when the people in Sierra Leone are so willing and happy to help. I hope I can be of help to them in the future. 

Adjusting To New Places

 

So much help has been provided for me by the Diocese here to make sure I have everything I need. On Saturday, they sent over a plumber (my bathroom sink was leaking and clogged), an electrician (the microwave that had been provided wasn’t working), and a carpenter (to make sure my bed frame wouldn’t fall apart again). But now it seems that I will also be provided with a cook and a housekeeper. The meals that have been sent from the restaurant at Uni Mak have not been working out. Don’t get me wrong, their food is delicious. It’s just that they sometimes will deliver my dinners when I’m about to go to bed or not at all. So, I will have someone come three times a week to help with the cooking, the laundry, and the cleaning. I have been cleaning the house on my own and I don’t mind doing it. But I think it might be better if I have help. I’m supposed to be interviewing her today.

Yesterday was Sunday and I was, sadly, unable to go to Holy Spirit Church for mass because my driver was unavailable, and I missed my chance to drive over with the Sisters in the compound. I’m really bummed out because I missed another Young Adult Group meeting. I want to know my fellow parishioners better and make friends. They do keep me in the loop with WhatsApp, I just have no idea what they’re talking about. Reading Krio and listening to Krio are two very different things.

So, I went with Sister Peace to a different congregation in a village outside of Makeni called Mabonka. We were driven there by the priest who leads the congregation. He lives at the compound that Father Luigi lives in. He is originally from Congo. The people of Mabonka mostly speak Temni. The service was spoken in both English and Temni. The music was also sung in Temni so I didn’t know what most of the songs were about. But this congregation did sing one song I was familiar with. It goes “Alive! Alive! Alive forevermore! My Jesus is alive! Alive forevermore!” I was so happy to sing a song I knew! There are always drums and other percussion instruments in every mass I’ve been to in Africa. I enjoy it every time! It makes a joyful noise!

After we came back to the compound, I had some more Krio lessons with Father Gabriel, then went to rest in my house. I’ve been reading books on my Kindle when I am resting. Many books I’ve been reading are about people who are also living in foreign lands and how they adjust to the new cultures and traditions around them. It gives me some comfort as I read about characters who have struggles like mine. One book I’m reading that I recommend to anybody who is interested is Kidnapped by Robert Lewis Stevenson. It’s the story of a Lowland Scottish boy who finds himself a castaway and a stranger in the rough Scottish Highlands, a world very different from his own. If you’re not into books, there’s also a Disney movie adaptation that’s good. Anyway, I find myself relating to the main character often. I too am struggling to understand how things work in a new environment. But I’m learning a lot and I’m grateful that I am not rushed with my learning (or on the run for my life like the main character in Kidnapped), but that I am slowly immersing myself into a new country and new ways.

Stations of the Cross

I’ve finally been able to get more of my laundry done! It was a very nice day for it. The sun felt gentle instead of scorching and a pleasant breeze was blowing throughout the morning and afternoon. The heat was the kind of heat I felt I could handle. To be clear, I don’t do my own laundry. There are no washing machines here. The gate watchmen help me by doing my laundry. I provide them with the soap, then when they are done, I hang the clothes out to dry. When they are dry, I iron them.

 

I feel I should explain why I bought an iron (or an electric goose) before I bought so many other things I need. My reason was a tidbit of information I was told by a very reliable source (Janice England) about doing laundry in Africa. When you hang your clothes out to dry, there is a bug that can land on your clothes and lay its eggs in the fabric. Once you put on your dry clothes, the eggs will hatch, and the newborns will burrow their way into your skin. The only way to kill these infestations, is to iron the dry clothes as soon as possible. I haven’t ironed anything in years, but it was a pleasant chore for me to perform. I liked the rhythmic motions, and I did it right next to an open window where I could hear the birds singing.

 

Later in the day, Father Luigi, one of Janice England’s friends, offered to drive me to a village in the bush called Kabonka where we would do the stations of the cross with the villagers. I told him I would absolutely love to! I love going to the bush. The dirt roads with their potholes are more fun than the paved highways and speed bumps in Makeni. Father Luigi has a strong truck. It took a pretty bad beating as we drove. I couldn’t stop laughing and shouting “Whee!” with every bump as we drove. I love seeing all the trees everywhere and the flowers and the villages in the bush. We passed by a hill that Father Luigi called “The camel”. At a certain angle, it does look like a camel’s head and hump. The sky seems to be a brighter shade of blue in the bush than it does in Makeni. In Makeni, all colors seem muted. Sometimes I think I would prefer to live in the bush instead of in a city like Makeni. But I think it’s better that I live in a city. I’m closer to more things and it’s more familiar to what I’m used to back in the States.

 

Father Luigi came to Sierra Leone back in 1968. He pointed out many of the churches and schools he helped build in the bush as we drove. Father carries sweets in his car all the time, so wherever we went, children would line up and ask him for some. They were Italian sweets. I’d never seen them before. He let me have two! He also bought me an apple flavored soda called “Apple Cedar”. I think it was supposed to be apple cider, which is my favorite drink! It tasted close enough to it. He told me a soda always helps stave off thirst when it gets too hot.

 

When we arrived in Kabonka, we parked in front of the “All Saints Catholic Church of Kabonka” as it clearly said on the front. There were a few parishioners waiting for him to arrive, but he told me he had hoped for a bigger crowd. Some people there spoke English and some spoke Krio, but they mostly spoke a tribal dialect that I cannot remember the name of. I think it started with a “L”. There was an older couple seated out front of the church whom Father Luigi introduced me to. The man’s name was Daniel, and he was from Sierra Leone. The woman’s name was Victoria, and she was originally from Ukraine.  She had come to Sierra Leone to be a teacher, and she taught for many years. Her and Daniel were married in the very church we were standing in front of in 1987. Unfortunately, she was forced to leave her teaching position because her school shut down and she lives on her pension. She also has vision trouble and gets tired very easily, so she did not join the rest of the congregation in the stations of the cross. She sat out in front of the church and waited for us. Just for the record, yes, I tried to take photos, but all my photos on my Sierra Leonean phone have recently been deleted. So once again, I got nothing.

 

The stations, which had been painted on wooden planks, had been set up along the road leading into the village. The parishioners who were participating, Father Luigi, and I all made our way down the dusty dirt road to the first station (Jesus is condemned to death). A teenage girl carried the crucifix in front of the group while a young man carried a drum. At the first station, the congregation leader read out the station in English first, then in the local language. After the station was done, a little girl picked up the wooden plank, placed it on her head, and we started walking towards the next station. Another young girl started singing a hymn I wasn’t familiar with. It was in the local language and the young man started beating the drum and the whole congregation started clapping and joined in the singing. I did my best to join in too, but it’s hard when you don’t know what the words mean. They sang the word “Jesus” a lot though, so I got the gist of what they were singing about.

 

I don’t think whoever set up the stations understood how Roman Numerals work. Station Eleven was mixed up with Station Nine, and Station Four was missing completely. However, Father Luigi insisted we press on and continue down the road while reciting the stations in order. He had me read for Station Six (Veronica wipes Jesus’s face). I was honored. It’s my favorite station. The last station was read in front of the church. When we were finished, we all went inside the church and said an Our Father, a Hail Mary, and a Glory Be.

 

The inside of the church had many beautiful paintings of stories from the bible, all of them featuring Jesus. Jesus is usually portrayed as a black man in most of the churches I’ve been to in Sierra Leone. I’ve also seen Him portrayed as a blonde man with blue eyes in churches in the States and Europe. I’ve also seen Him portrayed as someone of Asian descent. All are beautiful portrayals. I’m partial to Jesus being portrayed as a Middle Eastern Jewish man myself. But I think I liked this portrayal of black Jesus the best out of all the black Jesuses I’ve seen. This black Jesus was smiling in most of the paintings. Usually, he looks so solemn. The backgrounds of the paintings were very colorful. Whoever painted them was very talented. In the back of the church, over the door, was a painting of the very church we were inside of. It had several priests and villagers gathered outside, all smiling and holding hands.

 

When the prayer was finished, everyone went back outside and began to “break fast”. During Lent, most Catholics will not eat meat on Fridays. But here, many people will not eat or drink until the end of the day. I think it is influenced by the Muslim Ramadan. Ramadan is happening the same time as Lent this year and it is also a time of fasting. During Ramadan, people will eat in the very early morning hours, then not eat or drink until the sun goes down. I think the Catholics here adopted this style of fasting for Lent. At least, that’s my understanding of it. Father Luigi says this style of fasting is similar and Islam has influenced the practice of fasting here, but he says it’s different because when Sierra Leonean Catholics “break fast” it’s more social. People brought out pots of rice and other dishes I couldn’t identify. They all sat around the pots and shared with everyone gathered. Father Luigi got out some water and biscuits he had brought in his truck to help with “breaking fast”. It reminded me of the potlucks we have after church back in the States.

 

After we drove back to Makeni, Father Luigi invited me to dinner at the compound where he lives. His compound is on Stocco Road too. There are about 12 other priests living there, but there were only 3 others there for dinner. They had fish and omelets to eat. There was also pasta and tomato sauce and best of all, cheese! I hadn’t seen cheese anywhere since being here! For dessert the priests had some mangos. I have had mangos here before and while the flavor is good, I’ve always found them very hard to eat. After peeling them, the insides are very stringy and not very juicy. It reminds me of the goop inside of a pumpkin. It gets stuck in my teeth all the time. But I found out that it was just because they were not ripe yet. The ones the priests had were nice and juicy and much easier to eat and peel. It was a nice end to the day. There was even electricity when Father Luigi drove me home! I hope for more days like this in Sierra Leone. 

Cultural Differences

 

A cultural difference I have noticed is that people in Sierra Leone touch each other all the time. They hold hands, they hug and hold on to each other, they grab each other. And the thing is, it doesn’t mean the same thing that it does in the States. In the States, when you touch someone, it’s a sign of deep affection or extreme aggressiveness. But here, it’s all friendly. It’s not necessarily romantic, or passionate, or even a way to say you a familiar with that person. It’s just friendly. If people at home did what people here did, I would be very uncomfortable. I would have to figure out the hidden meaning behind the touching. But here, it’s simply a sign of fellowship with neighbors, family, and friends. It makes me feel very comfortable.

 

For example, one time after mass, I was introduced to a fellow parishioner. When he shook my hand, he kept holding it the entire time we had a conversation. If this had happened in the States, I would have felt very uncomfortable. But I didn’t feel that this time. I could tell the man was just welcoming me, and there was no other hidden meaning behind it. Another example is when I was at the hospital, one of the nurses grabbed my hand and started talking with me. It wasn’t a passive aggressive statement like I’ve experienced from some women in the past, and it wasn’t even saying that we were very close friends. It was simply a friendly part of the conversation. Some nurses will even lead me by hand around the hospital. It’s not patronizing, it’s simply what one does here. They hold hands when they are going somewhere; men, women, children, everyone. The one thing I have observed people doing occasionally that does make me feel uncomfortable is sometimes people will grope each other. As far as I can tell it’s just a teasing gesture. This kind of touching has yet to happen to me. If it does, I’m going to set up some boundaries with people about my “girls”. I don’t want them groped. And so far, I haven’t seen men do this to any women (thank goodness).

 

In general, the attitude towards breasts here seems very relaxed. So far, I’ve been flashed by three different women in public places (I don’t count women who are breast feeding). The first time was in the hospital. And when I say, “in the hospital”, I mean in the hallway outside at the hospital. An older lady was just walking around, pulling her shirt up and cooling off her breasts. I don’t blame her, it was hot. I’d even seen some nurses about to do the same thing, but they stop themselves right before they get to the “danger zone”. Another time was while I was in the car. We drove past a woman washing her top half on her front porch. The bathrooms here do get very hot. It must be more comfortable to bathe outside. Another time was at church. I was entering the Holy Spirit building and there was a lady sitting in one of the pews and she smiled at me, and I smiled back and then she lifted her shirt and showed me one of her breasts. I don’t know why she did. As far as I can tell, that’s not a typical Sierra Leonean greeting. If I find out it is, I’ll let you guys know. Though I don’t plan on doing it to anyone if it is. I’ve seen my fair share of breasts in my time. As a nurse, there is no part of the body I haven’t seen before, so I don’t mind seeing other people’s breasts. But I don’t need anyone to look at mine, thank you.

 

Unexpected hospitality also seems to be a common theme in Sierra Leone. People always want to do nice things for you, and they never give you a heads up or ask if it’s convenient for you. They just do it. One example of this was when Sister Vivian cooked me breakfast when I had already had a breakfast. You could say she made me…second breakfast (I’m sorry, my inner geek didn’t turn off just because I live in Africa now). Sister Julianna says that happens to her a lot too. She’s from Kenya and she says it’s really a Sierra Leonean thing to spontaneously give something. And it’s rude to refuse. So you just kind of accept whether you like it or not. I kind of like that. It reminds me of the American suburbs stereotype of randomly taking a casserole over to the new neighbors, whether they asked for a casserole or not. People also like to invite me to sit on their porch. We don’t even have to talk (which is good because my Krio is so broken). They’re just happy to have me and I’m just happy to be here. I don’t feel at home quite yet, but the people are really what make life here livable. They are always ready to help me with anything I might need or questions I have. It might take some time for me to fully adjust, but I feel happy that these are the people teaching me and who will be my neighbors for the next three years.

Unexpected Visitor

After my pool trip on Saturday, I had an unexpected visitor late in the evening (or “evening tem” as they say here)! Janice England, who is a part of LMH, lived in Sierra Leone for many years, and she made many friends while she was here. One of them was a young man named Sheku. He showed up at my front door that night and introduced himself. At first, I had no idea who he was, but then he showed me a picture of Janice and I was happy to meet him. He offered to show me around the area where I lived, and I was so grateful. I have walked around a little by myself, but not very far. He showed me several stores within walking distance, and where to buy food and other things I needed. Passing them on the street, I would never have known what they were. 

 

Some buildings have self-explanatory signs. For example, I can figure out that “Brothers Barbing Shop” is a barber shop. But others, I never would have guessed based on their signs and advertising.  He even showed me where I could buy an iron for my laundry. They call it an “electric goose” here. I kinda see why. The shape is kinda…goose shaped.

 

He also taught me how to “top up” my “orange money wallet” for my Sierra Leonean phone. “Orange” is the name of one of the phone companies here. He explained that’s what all the shouting on the loudspeakers at night is about. While I lie in bed trying to sleep, I hear those voices and at first it sounded like “Oan onnay! Topa topa topa topa”, and I knew they had to be advertising something. But now I realize, the voices are saying “Orange money! Top up, top up, top up, top up!” It’s nice to know what they’re saying.

 

I was driven to mass on Sunday by my designated driver Emmanuel (Sandy drives me to the hospital). I think Sunday is now my favorite day. I get to see people and talk to people and interact with people. I think living in Sierra Leone is turning me into an extrovert! People are always happy to see me and I’m genuinely happy to see them! One lady who leads the choir even said I can join the choir if I want! They meet every Saturday night! I hope I’m able to find a driver to take me! There wasn’t a meeting with the young adult group to discuss Africana this time. Though they say they will meet next week.

 

When I’m at mass or at the hospital, I can really see the British influence on the culture in Sierra Leone. For example, people say “biscuits” instead of “cookies”, and “chips” instead of “French fries”. They also call “tape”, “plaster” here. Whenever we’re putting an IV in a vein, the nurses always say, “Get the plaster,” and they tape that sucker down tight. Even the food has British influence. It’s very common to drink Ginger beer and eat fish pies here. One of the nurses brought some to the nurse’s station and gave me some. I told her it reminded me of something at a Ren Faire. She responded with a laugh and a blank nod. I don’t think they have Ren Faires here. They also don’t put a lot stress on the “R”s in words. For example, they pronounce “work” as “wok” and “market” as “makit”. Another example is the sur name “Rogers”. They pronounce it “Rogas”. It’s a common last name here, and hey, if you pronounce “Rojas” phonetically, it sounds like “Rogas”. So now, wherever I go, I say “Na me name Salleh Rogas”, which means “My name is Sally Rogers”. It makes people happy. They usually ask, “What’s your real name?” And I tell them, “Sally Rojas.” (I pronounce it phonetically). They are always surprised and pleased and say, “That’s a Sierra Leonean name!”

 

I’m mostly doing small things at the hospital. I counted out 15 pairs of gloves and placed them in a box and hand rolled cotton balls for the nurses. I also took a few patients to get X-rays. Is this what I was expecting when I volunteered as a nurse in Africa? Yes. I know this kind of stuff isn’t very exciting for you guys reading this blog. Maybe some of you were expecting me to be desperately putting in IVs while my patients convulsed and heaved dramatically like in a soap opera. Here’s the thing. I volunteered to help in any way I could, and if the way I do that is doing small things like rolling cotton balls, then for now, until I learn more about the hospital, I am absolutely happy doing that. If anything, I’m relieved. I was afraid everyone would expect me to jump right in and take over everyone’s jobs. That’s the last thing I wanted to do! I want to learn how everything works, down to the last detail. I had a meeting with Dr. Turay today. He says he’s going to set up a session where I can learn the admission process in more detail. I feel very comfortable with the learning pace they set at this hospital so far.

Swimming Adventure

 

Sister Juliana is so nice. As I’ve said, she is the head nurse at Holy Spirit Hospital. But she’s so much more than that. They call her the matron, and she’s not just in charge of the nurses. She’s also in charge of the cleaning staff, the drivers, the laboratory technicians, and more. But she always has time to sit and talk with me. She’s from Kenya and we talk about being so far from our families our families and life in Sierra Leone. Yesterday, we just happened to be talking about how hot it is here, and she says there’s a pool close to where she lives in Makeni. She asked if I would like to go and said, “Yes please!” It turns out the pool near her house is closed for renovations. But she knew of another one in the area and it’s closer to where I live. She then called Sandee to her office and told him to pick me up the next day and take me to the pool. After about 3 hours, he would pick me up and take home.

 

So today I was all sun screened and suited up for the pool. Sandee picked me up and took me to a place called Relim Leisure Center. You all are probably wondering if it was a good idea to get into a pool in a fifth world country. I had my reservations as well. I know better than to swim in a body of fresh water in Africa. But I did not come to Siearra Leone to sit in my little house all day. In fact, I know if I do, I’ll go crazy! I came here to see this country and meet its people and if going to a pool in a fifth world country is how I do that, then Imma gonna go do it!

But when I entered the facilities, I found a crystal-clear man-made pool with well-scrubbed tiles forming pictures of dolphins and ducks swimming in the water. The employees quickly used a pool tube to scrape any bugs off the surface and removed any stragglers with a net. I asked one of the employees if the pool was chlorinated and he told me the chlorine had been replenished 3 days ago, which was good enough for me!

 

The water looked heavenly. After being so hot and not being able to swim for so long, I didn’t care whether it was safe to swim in the pool or not. My instincts asked, “Is this safe?”, and my desires answered, “Who cares?” Dipping one tentative toe in the cool blue liquid was all I needed to get in neck deep. I listened to some small part of my survival instincts that didn’t want to put my face or hair in the water. It would have been blissful to get completely underwater, but I made sure to keep my glasses and hat on to dissuade me from the temptation of submerging fully. 

 

My surroundings as I swam were lovely. The pool was in an outdoor courtyard surrounded by palm trees and freshly swept mosaic tiles. Up above, surrounding the courtyard, there were hotel rooms that looked down upon the pool below. On one side, on ground level, was a refreshment center that provided refrigerated drinks, popcorn, and hookas: an interesting combo. On the other side was a lounge with a TV. The TV wasn’t on. I assumed it was off because there were no football (soccer) games happening. Football is very big here. I always know if a big game is happening because the power will go out and force people to go to public places to watch and then I can hear crowds cheering in the distance. And whenever a TV is on, there’s always a game playing.

 

When I was done swimming, I went over to the bathrooms and showers. These were the most luxurious things I have seen yet in Sierra Leone. First off, they were clean. Like, sparkling white, glistening bald Mr. Clean clean. Second, the toilet paper was on a roll attached to the wall. Every other restroom I have gone to, the toilet paper sits on the toilet water reservoir. And most exciting of all, there was a trash can. I have never seen any trashcans anywhere in Sierra Leone (expect the hospital).

 

While using the facilities, I also happened to notice a teeny, tiny little frog doing his best to blend into the tiles on the walls. He was doing a pretty good job too. His coloring was all white and he was scrunched up into a little ball with his eyes tightly shut. Did I poke him to see if he was real? No, because I am not about to touch an unknown animal with my bare hands. Did I keep an eye on him as I showered to make sure he didn’t decide to jump and scare me? Yes I did. Did I want to take a picture of him (and more than that, did I want to take pictures of the pool and the leisure center)? Yes, I did! But the phone I have been provided with is not very reliable. There is no guarantee if I take a photo, I will be able to share it with anyone, so what is the point of even attempting to take a picture? Anyway, when I was done, I left my bathroom mate to his camouflaging and returned to the courtyard.

 

I sat at a table shaded by a big umbrella in my wet swimsuit and ordered a delicious lunch of chicken and fries (or as they call it here, chips) and got yet another soda I have never seen before. The brand was KA and the flavor was “Sparkling Pineapple: A Taste of the Caribbean”. Delicious! As I ate, there was a nice breeze blowing through the courtyard and the heavenly sent of some kind of perfume in the air. Though I could also smell smoke and there was ash in the breeze too. I think someone was burning a trash pile.

Coming to Sierra Leone, nothing has been a surprise to me. Not the trash piles, not the blackouts, not the heat, not the bugs and the lizards, not even the hospital protocols. I expected and prepared for all of that. But today something did surprise me. I had an enjoyable, comfortable day. I had a day where I got to cool off and rest. I didn’t expect that at all. It was nice. I’d like to do it again sometime. Though next time, I’d like to go and spend the day with a friend. I think that would have made it even better. I hope someday soon, I’ll make a friend who I can share a nice day like this with.

Lessons In African Healthcare

 

My education in the world of African health care continues. My teachers are very patient with me, answering all my questions and allowing me time to understand even the simplest procedure. It will be some time before I’m able to admit a patient to the unit on my own, but I’m okay with that. My teachers are enthusiastic for the day when I can be on my own. I don’t feel pressured by them to start working on my own. But I can tell they want me to learn and experience everything.

 

Something I didn’t expect to follow me to Sierra Leone from the States is the thing that gets on the nerves of all Pediatric Nurses: Coco Melon. For those of you who are not raising young children in this modern day and age, I envy you. You’ve never had to hear beloved songs mangled by whatever autotune voice modulator the site uses, and you’ve never had to watch creepy CGI babies and children sing and dance to those tunes. In the States, I would go home at night after work and hear those songs in my sleep. But the kids at the hospital always loved it. They could watch it for hours. I shouldn’t have been surprised the kids in Sierra Leone like it too. But I could hardly believe it when I heard that dinky little jingle coming from the Pediatric Ward. And lo and behold, a mother was using it the same way we used it back in the States; to distract her child from an IV placement. Again, it’s funny how many things are similar to things back home instead of being different.

 

My lessons at the hospital tend to get interrupted because I have other things I need to attend to, like getting a work visa and buying things that I need. The only way I’m able to get to the market or to church or anywhere is with my hospital driver. So sometimes in the middle of being taught something, someone will drag me away from my instructors and take me to perform another task. I don’t mind really. I’m happy to do whatever needs to be done so that I can live in this new country. But I can tell it frustrates my fellow nurses to have me taken away in the middle of their instruction. For their sakes I feel bad, but a break from their teachings is always appreciated because it helps me process what I’ve been taught so far.

 

I was able to go shopping for the first time today! My driver took me to a mini mart where I was finally able to buy dish soap, laundry soap, a lighter for my stove, and toilet paper! The driver came into the store with me, and he made sure I got everything I needed. It made me feel more comfortable having someone go with me. I like the driver a lot. He always picks me and Sister Peace up from Stocco Compound with a wink and a smile. His name is Sandee. I’m sure that’s not how you spell his name, but that’s how everyone pronounces it.

 

According to the hospital manager, I should be getting a Sierria Leonean ID soon!

 

I can’t wait!

Learning The Ropes

 

Being at the hospital has helped me feel less lonely. Every morning me and Sister Peace are picked up by our driver, Sandee, who always greets me with a smile and a wink. I’m greeted by nurses and other hospital staff every time I enter the hospital. Eating breakfast at the canteen has helped too. The cook gives me a hot meal and a smile. I no longer feel as isolated as I used to.

 

I’m already starting to shadow the nurses and learn how they do things at Holy Spirit Church. I knew things would be different in African hospitals even before I applied to LMH as a volunteer. So, it was no surprise to see nurses charting with paper and getting written orders from doctors. And of course, I knew resources would be limited and equipment would be used differently. But being trained in the States can make you a bit squeamish when it comes to certain things. My fellow nurses back in the States better strap in, I’m about to tell some stories that will make you squirm in your seats.

 

I’ve mostly been observing the nurses’ day-to-day routine and giving medications is a part of that. I watched one nurse take out a syringe and use it over and over to administer a medication to a patient. Then she accidentally dropped it on the ground. She picked it up and was about to use it to draw up more medication when I asked, “Do you not throw it away?” She replied, “No, our resources are limited. We use the same syringe for the patient until the end of the day.” I nodded, hoping my eyes weren’t betraying the internal screaming in my mind. I get it. I really do.

 

Other things shock me in completely different ways. I watched a nurse tell a 3-year-old boy to open his mouth. He then obeyed without complaint, she put medication in his mouth, and wonders of wonders, he swallowed. I can count the number of times I’ve seen a child that age take medicine willingly on one hand. I’m sure not every child who comes to Holy Spirit Hospital will be so accommodating, but still it was a beautiful sight to behold. I have never been this excited to start working at a hospital.

 

I love talking with the staff and learning from everyone. No matter where you go, it seems that what nurses talk about is the same. I was sitting with the nurses at the station and overheard a conversation in Krio that I could actually interpret. The basic discussion was about a pen. My fellow nurses out there will understand how necessary a pen is to a nurse working on the floor, and how often said pen gets lost either by leaving it lying around or by people “borrowing” it. One nurse I was sitting next to kept begging Sister Peace to let her borrow her pen and Sister Peace kept denying she had a pen. Both were laughing and nudging each other until the first nurse managed to cajole Sister Peace into letting her use her non-existent pen. It was a good pen too. I could see why the first nurse wanted to use it. It made me laugh because I’ve had the exact same discussion with colleges at my old job. Letting your fellow nurse borrow your pen is the epitome of trust in a nursing environment. It’s nice to see something familiar in a place that is different from what I’m used to.

 

The nurses have already taught me how to write morning reports in a paper chart and change of shift reports. Some protocols and medical abbreviations are different than what we use in the States, but it’s almost like learning words in Krio; some are similar while others are very different. I’m glad I’m starting slowly. I don’t feel overwhelmed yet. So far I’ve kept my promise to Dr. Turay and I’ve been patient with myself in the hospital. I realize I don’t know everything I need to know yet. One event today reminded me of that. While the doctors and nurses were rounding on the patients, one doctor asked me if I knew how to tell if a patient with a fever was more likely to have malaria or typhoid. I told him honestly, I wouldn’t be able to tell. He then explained that malaria patients tend to have intermediate fevers while patients with typhoid will have fevers that keep increasing gradually. I’m glad that I know that now. Any piece of information I get, I’m going to do my best to remember. I don’t feel bad that I didn’t know the answer. I’ve never worked with malaria or typhoid patients. They’re not very common in the states. I read up on common diseases in tropical climates, but it takes working in the field to truly learn and I’m grateful for the chance to learn. The staff in Holy Spirit are so nice. The nurses here are patient and do not let a new nurse drown in information. But they make sure new nurses learn lessons at every opportunity. From what I’ve seen so far, I think I will be happy at Holy Spirit.

The Hospital

 

I finally got to go back to the hospital today. Me and Father Gabirel had a quick Krio lesson before Vicar General Dominic drove me to Holy Spirit Hospital. I met Dr. Turay and Sister Juliana again. I also met the administration manager of the hospital. We had a meeting about the best course of action going forward. Today, we started slowly by showing me around the hospital and introducing me to the staff.

 

Sister Juliana, the head nurse or matron, showed me where the different wards are, where the surgical theatres are, where physical therapy is, etc. The hospital is much smaller than other hospitals I’ve been to. All the wards and clinics are split between many different buildings. It will take me a while to know where everything is. I met other clinicians, nurses, the pharmacist, Human Resources, Finances, and lab techs. It’s going to take me a while to remember everyone’s names too. But no one seems to have any problem with my name. Everyone is so surprised to hear the name Sally is an American name and a Sierra Leonean name.

 

Sister Juliana told me that she is from Kenya, and it took her a while to get used to speaking Krio and how the hospital is run too. She says I will get it, I just need to be patient with myself. For lunch, Sister Juliana took me to the canteen. It’s called the Hastine Restaurant, where we were greeted by a woman wearing a green apron with a logo belonging to a coffee organization that shall remain nameless. Sadly, the restaurant does not have a coffee shop, though they do serve instant coffee.

 

The canteen has a pretty good menu. I ordered chicken, cuscus, and a veggie salad. They even had cold sodas! For some reason they also served me pasta with ketchup on it. I don’t know why. Maybe it just comes with the cuscus. Next time I think I’ll order something that’s more local. I was thinking the cassava leaf stew. Most of the staff eat there for lunch. I think I’ll like eating there. It’s clean and pretty with purple and gold decorations on the walls and tables. And there are no doors, only light flowing curtains with roses on them. It keeps the canteen nice and cool. I plan to have breakfast there tomorrow morning.

 

My work schedule for now will be Monday through Thursday from 8:00-2:00. I think that’s a good place to start. I know I’m going to be learning so much from everyone while I’m there. And the best part about working there is the air conditioning!  I’m looking forward to spending more and more time at the hospital!

Sunday At A Different Parish

 

I didn’t get to go to the Holy Spirit Church for mass today because there was no driver available.  It was okay though because Sister Veronica made me breakfast and for the first time in a long time, I had something besides cornflakes and powdered milk for breakfast. She made me an omelet with bread and, praise the Lord, hot coffee! I haven’t been able to boil water in the electric kettle to make hot coffee because the power has been out every morning, and I need a lighter for the stove to boil water. Hopefully I can buy one soon. Any way the food was so good!

 

After I got dressed, two Sisters walked with me across the street to a different church called St. Guido Conforti. It’s a much larger congregation led by an Italian priest called Father Jerry. Everyone greeted me and all the children would come up to me to grab my hand. During the mass I sat in between the two Sisters. One little girl chose to sit next to me. She loved holding my hand and playing with my hair. Most of the children here seem fascinated with my hair.

 

The church choir sang beautifully. They were led by a young man whose voice range is a tenor. I told him later how beautiful his voice was. The music was a lot of drums and other percussion instruments. That day was also Father Jerry’s birthday, so the congregation sang to him and gave him gifts. After the service was over, one of the Sisters took me to a community hall next to the church where they were celebrating children who were becoming altar servers. They served everyone lunch (chicken and rice) and passed out fruity sodas I had never seen before. I had one called a “Tik Tock”. After only having water to drink for the past week, a cold soda was heavenly. At one point, the little girl who had been sitting next to me began dancing in the middle of the hall, making everyone laugh. I believe her name was Vanya, but I think that’s wrong.

 

Later, some more priests joined the group. One was another priest from Italy. He introduced himself as Father Brioni. At first his name didn’t sound familiar, but then he told me his first name, which is Luigi. It turns out, he knew Janice England who was in Sierra Leone when she did her mission. Janice had told me about Father Luigi when I was still in training. Father Luigi and I exchanged contact information before the Sister and I went back to Stocco compound. I hope we can meet up sometime and talk about mission work.

 

When we got back, Sister Vivian had made me lunch as well. I felt bad because I had already eaten at the church, but the food she made was so good I had a second lunch. I told her I would take the rest to my house for dinner.

Sports Day

 

Today I had another lesson with Father Gabriel. This time it was about grammar and the culture of Sierra Leone. Afterwards, I went back to the parsonage headquarters, where I met up with Monsignor John and an IT worker who helped me set up my phone and my Wi-Fi. Later, Monsignor John took me to his home next to his church and gave me lunch. It was another fish stew with rice, but this one had chicken legs and meatballs in it too. I got a chance to practice my Krio with his housekeeper. I’m still shaky on some words but I’m getting better.

 

I could hear an announcer on a loudspeaker outside and I asked Monsignor John if there was an event going on. He said that next door there is a school sports field, and two schools were competing in running and jumping, like track in America. He asked if I wanted to go over and I said I would absolutely love to! The children were divided into four teams (though they call them houses): blue, pink, white, and yellow. The children (or pikkin) would choose one person from each house to run the race. For the first event, the competitors had to run around the field 3 times. While I was watching them, I wondered how none of them were passing out from the heat. Then one girl on the pink team passed out in the middle of the race! Luckily, Sister Peace, the sister who will be going to the hospital with me every morning, was there to check on her. I got hot too and very tired, so Father took me back home.