Yesterday a 13 year old boy came to OR with fractures of both his forearms – after falling from a pear (= avocado) tree and landing on his face and both outstretched arms. His surgery precipitated the stories from all the men in OR of their own childhood falls from trees. And what a saga it was!
Julius, who was giving the boy’s anaesthetic, had fallen from a pear tree when he was out at the family’s farm, all alone and far from other people. He landed on his hip which was painful but not so bad that he could not get home. And, he said, he certainly didn’t tell his father, or the resulting beating would have made the fall seem minor.
Etienne fell from a pear tree and dislocated his wrist. Amos and Christian both fell from mango trees but were lucky to fall into coffee bushes which broke their falls. Sande fell from a mango and must have landed on his bent-back little finger, since it was deformed for some time, although it eventually came right – without his parents ever finding out. Bote had numerous falls from an assortment of trees. Stephen never fell, because he was absolutely forbidden ever to climb a tree. He was also absolutely forbidden to play football, but the village kids would set a guard to watch for the father coming home, and Steven would play thus protected. One time he injured his arm, badly enough that he had to support it a lot of the time with his other hand – but he still managed to hide it from his father!
David never fell from a tree – but had several forearm fractures from football. (You are beginning to get the picture of the life of a Cameroonian small boy!). John also never had a fall, maybe because he was such a good climber – the other kids would send him to the top of a tree to pick pears or mangos, because he was so good at it.
Probably the funniest OR story was that of Jerome – when he was 14, he was acting as carer for his
uncle who was a patient in hospital. There was a mango tree by the ward, so the nurses talked Jerome into climbing up for mangos for them. He stepped on a dead branch which broke, and down he came, injuring his shoulder - I’m not sure if it was dislocated or fractured. But Jerome then became the patient, and his uncle became the carer!
On Youth Day, Feb 11, the harmattan blew in terribly thick – I could not see the hill that is only a kilometer away. We had rain last Thursday though (a month too soon for rainy season to begin, so people are confused), and that has cleared the air a bit, although it is still necessary to wipe the dust from the kitchen counter every time you want to use it. Tonight there is burning on the hill to the south of us. It is the time for burning off the tall dry grass, and this year the burning is later than last year – because of the occasional rain that has kept things greener than normal for dry season.
I am trying quite seriously to learn a bit of Kom, the language of the people in this immediate area. My friend Thom who is now in his 7th year here has learned quite a bit, and speaks it to the local people as much as he can to improve; but he says that Kom is so hard that he doesn’t know how the Kom people learn it. There are an awful lot of mb’s and ng’s and a “y” sound that requires putting the mouth in an impossible shape…..Gideon, along with some of the school girls who were passing by, were trying to help me this afternoon, and mostly it just caused a lot of laughing. I’ll never get past the basic greetings, but it is fun and adds interest to life with a new little intellectual challenge.
As I am loading these photos, the rain has started again. My friend, Pastor Ephesians, came running up from the road where he was waiting for a taxi (rare things after dark as it is now at 7:15pm) and was getting soaked. He went back to the highway when he saw a car coming - but it was full by the time it reached him. so he returned. Now I have sent him off with my little umbrella to try to catch a car that seems to have halted down on the road.
There are certain things that will always mean Africa - the beat of drums, the wonderful perfume of jacaranda coming through the kitchen window ( it blooms in dry season when most other things do not), the many people walking on the highway with loads on their heads, people walking (or sometimes riding horseback) on the path in front of my house and callling "Good evening" even in the dark, wild electrical storms, and the pounding of rain on the tin roof.
February 11 is National Youth Day in Cameroon. All the school children gather at appointed regional centers to march before the officials, sing and dance, do traditional dancing, and participate in sports events. Our center is just down in Mbingo 2, about 20 minutes walk away, where about 8 schools meet, 2 secondary and the rest elementary, including our school Mbingo 1 here at the hospital. I went last year, and this year, because I know a lot more of the children (quite a few pass my house every day going to and from school), I definitely had to be there. Photos tell about it better than words:
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