Can You Hear Me?

A few weeks back I was sitting outside the clinic, it was the afternoon, and few patients were left inside. A boy (who I later found out was 19) walked up to me with a sign that read he was deaf and was begging to pay his school fees. I didn't have my purse on me at the time and so I tried to asking him in sign if he could wait while I went to get my purse. Who knew I’d be using what little sign language I know in Nigeria? He looked confused, but got the message and a few minutes later I came back with a meager 100 Naira. I told him I was sorry it wasn't much, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact you would have thought I gave him 1,000 Naira from the look on his face. From there we communicated a little bit more through sign and then mostly through writing back and forth. His father died when he was young and his mother still lived in the village. He’s in a special education school in a state not too far from Jos. Somehow the conversation turned to him signing "pain" and pointing to both kidneys. From there I learned he'd been having blood in his urine and pain in his sides. I found out he was HIV positive and hadn't seen a doctor about most recent problem. I told him he needed to come to the clinic the next morning and see a doctor. He must have sat there with me for an hour or two, even after we had stopped talking. As if, he was completely content just sitting there with me, reading and re-reading our written conversation. Some how it made me sad; I wanted to talk more with him. Why didn’t I pay more attention in those sign classes at work? After he left I couldn't stop thinking about him. What sort of life was ahead of him in a country that makes little provisions for the disabled? He begs for his tuition. With a beggar on every street corner I have to wonder how much he actually pulls in and is it enough for him to continue is education? And then what? How will he earn a living? Will he be forced to a life on the streets as so many disabled are?
The following day I had to go to Abuja to change my plane ticket, so I wasn’t around when he came back. But apparently he showed up the next morning with a sign that read “Where is Mikki?” My friend Yemi spotted him and corrected the “M” to a “N” and told him I had traveled. I tried explaining that the day before, but it must not have registered. Anyways, I’m not sure what happened to him. At some point he left the clinic and I haven’t seen him since. I pray provisions will be made for him, wherever he is, whatever he does. It’s strange how your soul can connect with a perfect stranger like that. But there was something about him, something that drew me in and touched me. Such a small exchange, and yet I am forever changed. I see now more than ever the ministry of presence.

Chicken Little

I had gone to the market with Blessing that afternoon, she bought the fixings for "vegetable soup" which she had been talking about all morning. First she bought fish, which was an experience unto it's own-there's just a pile of frozen fish, like whole fish, head, eyes, skin, bones, the whole enchilada, then a woman who's sitting on what looked like an overturned bucket of sorts. You pick out which one you want, and when I say pick, I mean you're literally handling all the fish to find the one you want. So you have your fish, and then fish lady uses her super machete to chop off the head, slice off the fins and dice it into little steak like pieces. She throws it into a small plastic bag and calls it good. The whole while there's swarms of flies buzzing all over the place. So that happened, and then we went from stand to stand gathering tomatoes, spinach, onion etc. Once she got everything she needed we headed back to her house to drop off the goodies. I think I may have mentioned this before, Blessings "kitchen" is more or less a cement block next to the room she sleeps in. Imagine a cube and remove one side, that's her kitchen. There's a single charcoal burner and a couple of benches with some pots and pans. Finding this totally intriguing I walked over to get a better visual of how all this might work. Like, where do you keep your water? Where do you eat? Where do you chop food? Do you have a cutting board? So anyways I'm rambling on, playing a round of 20 questions when I hear a noise.
"Blessing...what's that?"
"That my chicken."
"Your chicken?"
"Yeah, my students bought me chicken for Christmas."
I turn the corner to find a rooster with one leg tied to a post in the middle of the cube.
"Blessing, there's a chicken in your kitchen."
She laughs. "I know, I feed it every morning."
Rooster crowing
"No but seriously Blessing, there's a chicken in your kitchen."
Still laughing. "Yes, I will fix it when my children come home from village."
"Soooo, when you say 'fit it' you're going to kill it yourself? Like, right here?"
"Yes."
"But, how do you, I don't, where do you..."
I couldn't even get the words out. It was so far beyond my ability to understand at that time, I was speechless. I asked her about the process in detail later after I had some time to compose myself. Turns out she's never actually done this before, slaughtering a chicken. But she has seen in done in the village...so I guess that's all the training one needs?

"Live Simply...

...that others might simply live." I don't remember where I read that, but I've adopted it as my motto. Meet Ahmed, a man in his mid 40's with a wife and five kids. Ahmed has an extra-cranial tumor that's been growing on the back of his head for over ten years; it's a little larger than a grapefruit. Because of the positioning of the tumor, sores have started started to develop, they break open and scab as the tumor continues to grow in size. Can you even imagine what his life might be like? Ashamed, embarrassed, depressed...He always wears an over sized hat to cover it up, keep people from staring. The surgery to remove this tumor is $50,000 Naira, that's about $400. He's only managed to save 3,000. He has five kids to put through school after all. Up till now I've been living on a very generous $100 a month, more than enough to make my life comfortable in the land of little. When I saw him that Friday afternoon, something in my soul broke. He looked like he had given up. it was written all over his face. Knowing he needed the surgery, yet no hope in sight. Yemi (a medical student from Mayo Med School) and I decided we would pool our money together and pay for all the expenses of the surgery. He came to the clinic faithfully everyday to have the wounds dressed and lab work drawn. Each time I saw him he would say, "God bless you, thank you." Then exactly one week later I was standing over him in the OR, watching as the doctors removed the tumor that had plagued him for so long. When I went to visit him post surgery, it was like meeting a totally different person. Not so much because of his now absent mass, but because of his spirit. Something in him was now alive where it wasn't before. He was grinning from ear to ear. And it wasn't until that moment that I realized I had never once seen him smile.

Faith Alive

You know what's amazing to me? Everything at Faith Alive is free. Their counseling services, HIV testing, doctor visits, lab tests, medications (ARV's and otherwise), sewing school, computer school, transitional teen housing, food bank, it's all 100% F-R-E-E. There is no other hospital like it in Jos, and I would venture to guess in all of Nigeria, although I'm not positive. Other hospitals in this area charge for every little thing: the hand card, the visit with the doctor, the lab test and the medication; all separate fees.
I went to Blessing's house last week. Mind you, she lives with her two boys and her sister-in-law. Her 'house' is a ten by ten room with a double mattress on the floor, clothes hanging on free standing bars on the walls and everything else lining the perimeter of the room. She and her boys sleep on the bed together and her sister pulls out another mattress that leans up against the wall during the day. She cooks and bathes outside. Everything was very neat and tidy, clean and organized. Even as she was mourning the loss of her brother, when I arrived she said, "Nikki! Please, what can I offer you to drink..."