June 10, 2004

Our Days Are Not Our Own
I have been trying to make a mobile phone call but to no avail. There is a minimal wavering signal, just enough to tease me into thinking that I might be able to make a connection. Network coverage is almost nil in Buhoma, our new home, and if that isn’t enough we have blown two inverters which are necessary to convert direct (solar) current to alternating in order to recharge our batteries. Our phone is almost out of power.I have talked with Dr Jonathan (a VSO volunteer pediatric consultant at Kihihi hospital) twice now on the phone and been disconnected before a plan could be made. What he has told me has chilled me to the bone, “Do not send any pregnant women to Kihihi hospital!” I have been able to make Dr Jonathan aware that there is a pygmy woman in distress in maternity at his hospital. His response is that she needs to be transferred to another hospital immediately and sadly their ambulance is non-functional.I need to drive her myself if she and the child are to survive.
    Four days earlier we sent the Batwa Pygmy, Jeffrey, and his pregnant wife to Kihihi hospital with money and food because it looked like it would be a difficult delivery. This woman is wife number three, the first two dying in labor. Out of his 10 children being born only three are living. I was at our new Out Patient Dept early in the morning when Jeffrey arrived by boda-boda (hired motorcycle). He staggered as he dismounted. I was not sure whether this was due to his never riding a motorcycle before or because of the gravity of the situation with his wife. He had returned to inform me of the condition of his wife and the necessary transfer which I subsequently confirmed from Dr. Jonathan.
    Our day is already planned, the car packed for a mobile medical clinic at Byumba, a Pygmy settlement about 40 minutes away. We are leaving on a vacation to Madagascar for 2 weeks and are rightly concerned about wanting to deal with any medical problems before we depart. Besides the medical clinic I want to be set up a school feeding program. Additionally our MPH student from Tulane is doing a medical/social survey and this is her last opportunity to be there to finish her work. We decide that I will drop everyone off at Byumba and then continue on to the hospital, an hour delay added on to the hour it takes to get to Kihihi. Just as we were leaving a family with a very sick man requests a ride to Kihihi. We would like to say no as our plate and our car is already too full but our vehicle is their only way to get to the hospital. Five more people pile in with their sleeping mats and supplies. This sick one is breathing with difficulty. He is placed on one of the bench seats with his head in his wife’s lap.
     I feel very alone and inadequate as the day progressed. I have just dropped Scott and the others in Byumba and continuing on toward Kihihi. I am praying for strength as I realize the man is becoming far worse. I pray that we can make it to the hospital but with each labored breath from the patient and cry by loved ones I feel my hands tighten on the steering wheel. Speeding is not an alternative as the dirt road is potholed and very rutted. A short ways down the road I spot Pastor Fred standing in the middle of the road flagging me down. Pastor Fred seems to be everywhere I go and always seems to want something from me. I am afraid I have a bad attitude about this particular pastor and I say to myself, “Oh no, Lord, not Pastor Fred!  Doesn’t he know I am in a hurry?” It was either pick Fred up or run him down so I did the better thing and offered him a ride telling him to get in quickly. We have gone no more than 15 minutes and the labored breathing ceases and I think “wonderful, our patient has gone to sleep“. Shortly thereafter I hear, “Carol, he is dead.” Stopping the car the family takes the body out and puts it under a bush in the shade. The shade has become a mortuary and our vehicle a hearse.  His wife takes off her scarf and ties it around his head to hold his mouth shut, I presume to keep out the maggot flies. Pastor Fred says that it is to keep the mouth shut before rigor-mortis sets in. The wife attempts to remove his clothes to put on a clean shirt but her hands are shaking so frightfully that several men take over. The body is loaded onto the floor of our vehicle and we turn around and head back to the Bwindi. My whole being is telling me to continue on to Kihihi Hospital to transfer the pregnant pygmy but my heart goes out to this bereaved woman. We stop at appointed places along the way to inform relatives or friends. At the families’ home the wailing begins in earnest, school children are returning home and join in the mourning. Pastor Fred steps forward and offers a prayer and then begins singing a song to God. The whole room joins in, lifting voices heavenward; the room reverberates with comfort and joy recalling one’s sure foundation. The family presses upon me to carry the body to a place where a coffin can be made but I resist realizing that my journey must continue. The family persists but Pastor Fred steps in and explains that although one life has been lost today, another might be saved. Pastor Fred presence today has been heaven-sent. I regret my previous thoughts when I first saw him in the road.
  There is no time to tarry though and we speed on to Kihihi Hospital. I am getting more worried by the minute, going too fast for the conditions of the road. It feels like the vehicle will shake apart. I am praying non stop; it is the glue that is holding me and this vehicle together.  On our arrival at Kihihi Hospital a nurse midwife comes out with news.  Dr Jonathan’s wife, Mereid, had arranged Jeffrey’s wife to be transferred to Kambuga hospital by private hire paying for the fare. A baby boy has been delivered by cesarean section. The boy did not cry when delivered which the nurses called “a bad score“. But with work they got the baby to breathe. I am so grateful that Jeffrey’s wife arrived when she did for if she had waited for us to take her both the mother and the baby might have been lost.  I am reminded that our days are not our own, about how arrogant I am sometimes about what my plans are and their importance. I drive on to Kambuga hospital and an hour later hold the alert and happy baby in my arms; my plans, my petty grievances, my fears pale in comparison. I am full of joy though very tired.  We rejoice with prayer.
Footnote:  Windows and doors are now being put into Maternity located next to the already operational Out Patient Department.  OPD was officially opened Oct 2003.  Scott is interviewing Nurses and Midwives at this moment.  A Nutritional Unit will also be housed in this new wing will change the lives of many in this area. Thanks to everyone who has contributed to this project.
Love to you all,
Carol and Scott