Language Lessons

"You know, the international language. . . LOVE. The language of LOVE!": Ricky's Mom in Better Off Dead.

The official language here is Liberio-English. To me, Liberio-English sounds like a cross between Ebonics, some Caribbean dialect, and American English. I have found that while I cannot understand every word they say, I can definitely get their meaning. Ironically though, very often they have no idea what I am saying. The first couple of weeks here, I'd just talk normally to the patients and have the translators translate. I found it quite comical because I'd say, "do you have any pain?", then the translator would say, "ya feelin' any peen?" Which to me sounds pretty close, but when I'd ask them they would blankly stare at me. After the translator had spoken, they very clearly answered either "no" or "small, small" or "big, big peen." So, recently I've taken to saying, "ya feelin' any peen?" This system works out quite nicely because then the translators are available to help me with other patient care things. I've really enjoyed being able to teach the translators a little something about nursing and patient care over the last month. I am fortunate to have fairly well educated translators. Hopefully after Africa Mercy sails in November, they will be qualified to get jobs at one of the hospitals as a nurses aid.

We are currently performing surgeries to repair vesico-vaginal fistulas (VVF). A VVF (or hole between the vagina and bladder) forms when a woman has been in labor for a few days. Usually, the baby is stillborn because he or she cannot tolerate being under that much stress for that length of time. Once the baby comes out (either by assisted vaginal delivery or by C-section), the woman is left with a hole causing her to leak urine. Typically, her husband will leave her, and society will ostracize her because she smells like urine all the time. These women's stories are horribly tragic, and they stoically wear them on their faces. When they come to the screening days and are admitted, they refuse to look you in the face. Since, their injury, they have been starved from human touch, compassion, and love, some of them for years.

After the repair, a woman stays with us for two weeks while she heals. Watching the transformation take place over those two weeks is remarkable and a true testament to God's grace. Slowly, she will start to make eye contact; then she'll smile; then she'll no longer look surprised when you touch her; then she'll hug you back; then she'll celebrate God's mercy. When their healing is complete, we have a dress ceremony for each of them. They all get dressed up in a brand new full African dress (since all of their old clothes are urine stained), and we sing and dance and celebrate God and being a woman. Even now, just writing about it, brings tears to my eyes.

I've had several conversations with one of the translators about her misconceptions concerning how the fistula is formed. I have enjoyed helping her work out these misconceptions and see through to the truth. She was under the impression that the fistula is caused by the C-section itself. After some explanation, she decided that because these women wait days before going to the hospital, the fistula was formed prior to the C-section. Hopefully, she will pass that knowledge on to another woman so this tragic injury can be prevented.