I love Africa and can always find something to rave about when it comes to the landscape – the sunsets are beautiful, the mountains are breathtaking, the banana trees – well, I can’t think of a word that describes them. But I have now seen a piece of Africa that is not so beautiful.
Goma is a city in the eastern portion of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), bordering Rwanda, and is the site of the eruption of Nyiragongo Volcano in 2002. The aftermath remains – the city is black. There is very little green, or anything much growing. The streets, the yards, the houses, buildings, everything just looks like black lava rock. People step over rocks, they decorate with them, build with them, collect them and sell them. It is also not a very safe city – and our contact there, Pastor Florentin, was very careful to have us safely inside a compound before dark. The DRC has been devastated by war, and continuing tribal violence – including rapes and murders. In many statistical listings, it ranks as the poorest country in the world.
As we drive through, I see women in the fields, with children sitting nearby, waiting to be cared for – they will be sitting there from sunup to sundown, as their mother toils to make enough coins for food that day. At the end of the day, we see dozens and dozens of people as they are returning from working in the fields, carrying hoes across their shoulders. This is subsistence – existence.
Our first day in the Congo is spent at a school (really just a big outside shelter with a leaky roof) where many children are orphans; some are being cared for by relatives, friends, or church members. It is where I break some of the rules of my clinic. When explaining how to take medications, I always ask the translators to tell the parent or guardian to have the child eat something first, to prevent stomach upset. Although I know that food is scarce in most situations, I think it is important to remind people about this rule. So we were telling the guardian to give the child food before taking morning medication.
As we continued to see children and explained medications, the teacher/director of the school finally came to me and through my translator told me, “that is going to be too hard for most of the children, because they don’t have food in the morning.”
I took off my “doctor” hat, and treated from my heart – just take the medication I said. Another rule I have is that I don’t dispense medicines except to adults; but we saw youth 14 and 15 years old, who were living on their own – living on the streets in some cases, still trying to come to school. So another rule down the drain. Can vitamins and worm pills really hurt anyone? I tell myself “no” and give out the medicine.
All through the day, the children and all the guardians and parents who show up, hear the gospel. As I prepare and dispense the medicines for the children, I can hear the preaching, the singing, the prayers, and can feel God with us. He gently reminds me that is why we are here in this place and that no, He has not forgotten.
The children jump for joy when we give out bread and juice and I am happy today.
Pam just hanging out (don't get to do this very often!)
Duck Ae teaching one of the pastors how to play the harmonica
Bread and juice....
Here I am (Pam assisting) opening and draining a large infected mass on a boy's leg - the next day he could walk for the first time in 2 weeks! God is a God of greatness and miracles.
From Dr. Brenda in the Congo
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