Archive for December, 2009
December 11, 2009
We finally figure out a way to embrace the dreaded Helix—it involves beer and an iPod. As we ride through the jungle, hanging onto the back cage, Ryan cranks out some tunes.
We play some Springsteen for Bev and Chris, who were unable to make the trip due to a sudden illness—we love you and wish you were here!—and it does a lot to lift everyone’s spirits.
We’ve grown so close to the other volunteers on this trip; it’s hard not to as you pack such intense experiences into such a short timeframe. I have the utmost respect for these dedicated people—they’ve traveled across the world on their own dime for no other reason than to help. Although it seems like we all just got here, I know that our time together is running out, and I already miss them.
December 10, 2009
We’re in Bechati, one of the main villages on our itinerary. The people here are extremely welcoming and kind, but there is so much suffering.
They have no access to clean water, schools or medical attention. People are forced to drink the muddy water that is used for bathing and other purposes. All of the children have protruding bellies, a sure sign of malnutrition. We’ll soon be implementing a water transportation/purification plan, which will dramatically decrease the mortality and morbidity rates.
We see a baby, less than a year old, strapped to her five-year-old sister’s back. Older siblings taking care of younger ones while parents work the fields is very common here. But this baby is in crisis. A week ago, she put her hands in boiling water, suffering third degree burns (is there a higher degree? If so, she has it). With no medical facilities or counsel nearby, the villagers treated the burns by slathering them in honey, making things infinitely worse.
For a week, this little baby girl has had no pain medication, no treatment and no relief. The blistering is unbelievable. No child anywhere should ever have to feel so much pain. I’ve never seen such suffering firsthand and I feel like my heart is going to disintegrate.
We immediately arrange for a motorcycle to take her and her father to the nearest medical facility—a 10 hour journey. If we weren’t here, she may have died in another week from infection. I feel so grateful that we found her and are able to help. This is why we’ve chosen such remote areas. The Foundation will be working with the villagers, using their guidance, resources and effort, to make long-term, sustainable changes. These people have become our partners and our friends. We’re helping them make things better for themselves and their children’s children.
My head knows all of this. But my heart. My heart only knows that other babies are in pain right now and I can’t help them.
December 10, 2009
This Indiana Jane thing is taking its toll on me. On a trek to one village, we’re forced to cross a brittle bamboo bridge. We can only cross one at a time and I’m thankful we never eat breakfast because every step brings the snapping sounds of the bridge beneath my feet. The only instruction we receive is, “Move. Very. Slowly.” It was as exhilarating as it was petrifying.
During our initial trek in to the valley, we stumble across a stunning waterfall and river that are as cold as the glacier water back home. We immediately strip down and jump in, relishing the brief respite from the heat. Every chance to bathe since then has been in a river or, on more than one occasion, a big puddle.
We use the Helix to get to the village of Lewoh and I finally figure out the only spot that keeps me from bouncing right out of the vehicle and down a cliff: hanging off the back. By riding on the bumper and gripping the outside of the back cage, I have more control. But it comes at a price: my hands are covered in blisters, my knees are full of bruises from being banged around and my arms are like wet noodles. Gyms would go out of business if we could ride around like this every day.
December 10, 2009
A woman in our group has a jigger, or chigoe flea, in her foot. It burrows in the skin, lays a bunch of eggs and then digs its way back out—it’s pretty disgusting. Currently, it’s on the way out and we’re all tracking the progress with interest, but not much concern (I think they took my suggestion and poured some whiskey on it).
Things that would have us rushing for the Purell, if not the ER, back home are put into a different context out here.
Villages are losing babies daily from illnesses that are easily preventable, mostly through a clean source of drinking water. A woman went missing, leaving only a basket in the field, and when villagers followed a trail leading from her basket into the jungle, they found a python that had swallowed the woman whole. Girls as young as ten-years-old are being sold by their families as wives to fifty-year-old men, because that is the only way the family can survive.
Suddenly, a bug in someone’s foot is not a big deal.
December 9, 2009
We slowly make our way through the jungle. It’s incredibly grueling because the path has to be cut by machete. The heat is unrelenting and almost unbearable. We walk for almost six hours through the jungle and aren’t even half-way to our destination in the valley. Raw sugar cane is offered to give us energy but I’m not sure it helps—we’re all dehydrated, exhausted and our feet are covered in blisters. But we’re a determined group. We keep walking.
We come across a village that has a small school. Word of our approach precedes us and students run to greet us, some of them so teeny they barely look old enough to walk, all of them looking adorable in their uniforms. These children are beautiful—smiling, welcoming and thrilled to see us. They eagerly reach for our hands and walk with us.
We’ve never met before, but these kids know of the work we’re doing in the valley and there’s an instant kinship. Some are shy while others talk non-stop…in many ways, it reminds me of my six-year-old’s school. At one point, they break into song—O Canada!—and their sweet voices echo through the jungle. It’s the most angelic sound imaginable.
Hiking to the next village completely drains everyone except the children, who simply wave good-bye, turn around and run back to the school. This trek, one that would exhaust a triathlete, is their daily commute.
December 9, 2009
I feel like Indiana Jane. We careen along the side of a cliff in our Helix vehicle—at one point I’m hanging off the side, literally hanging on for my life, trying to compensate for the one tire not touching the ground. We don’t slow down even as we plow through waist-deep potholes.
We zigzag deeper into the valley, stopping at one point to cross a river on a makeshift plywood bridge. Amusement parks will never be the same for me after this trip. We are truly off-roading, except there’s no road to speak of. I’ve never been more terrified in my life.
December 8, 2009
We get up at 5:00 a.m. again. The ladies have gathered some fruit for us to eat on our long trek into the valley. We’re told that we’ll be very shocked at what we may see when we get there.
We have a Helix (bush vehicle) to get us as far as it can, but we’ll make most of the long trek on foot. I’m told there will be snakes. Many of them. They cut a viper in half with a machete on the last trip.
The purpose of this trip is to assess health, water and educational needs. Children and adults are very malnourished and diseases are rampant. I know I’ll see my kids’ faces on every single child I meet. I’m worried about how I’m going to handle it. I won’t be able to blog when down there.
No electronic service of any kind. I’ll try to use the satellite phone to pass on messages and keep you connected, but if you don’t hear from me, you’ll know why. I’ll be absorbing it all and will write when I return. Wish us luck!
December 7, 2009
1:00 p.m. …
We drive north to Dschang where we visit one of our Obakki Foundation projects in the village of Keleung. Women dance, men entertain and together we celebrate. This pre-school/community center will be a place for their children to grow and learn. A place where they are supported, encouraged and loved. But most of all, a place safe enough for them to just be children for awhile. That is what every child deserves.
And later…
We leave Dschang to finish off our nine hour trip to Lewoh, the jungle village where it all began for us. This is just a stop-over…a familiar place to visit friends and get some rest before our long hike into the valley.
The valley. The entire reason we came. We have a full day of hiking tomorrow through the jungle to get there.
December 7, 2009
Ryan and I both lying awake at 2:00 a.m. in our hotel in Buea. It’s costing us $8.00 a night. There is a beetle the size of my iPhone in the middle of the floor. Wild dogs are howling, barking and fighting outside our window. 5:00 a.m. is going to come very early. Sigh. I sink deeper into my sleeping bag and hope the scotch and jet lag introduce themselves to each other soon.
5:30 a.m. …
Good morning? I head to the warm shower. Whoops – still dreaming. I’m quickly shocked back into reality when the first bucket of freezing water hits my body. Lather, lather, lather. The second bucket is easier and I’m starting to feel invigorated. Bring on this ‘roughing it’ stuff – I’m up for the challenge! (Right after I find myself a Caramel Macchiato…)
December 7, 2009
Ryan and I are very passionate about sharing the world – ALL parts of it – with our children. We spent a month last year in a village north of Mexico City packing and delivering dispensas to the families living in the campos. The kids and I packed a jeep full of supplies and stray dogs and we hit the road looking for families in need. My kids, only 4 and 6, still talk about that experience to this day.
We’re unable to bring our children on this trip, so we’re bringing the trip to them. Their favorite books right now are from the ‘Bad Kitty’ series. I found a stuffed Bad Kitty to bring along. I’ll take pictures of him in various situations that I can share with them when we return. I know they’ll be so surprised to find that ‘Bad Kitty Went to Africa’ and I imagine he’ll have lots of valuable life lessons to explain. Don’t worry, Nick Bruel (the brilliant author), it will only be published inside the Peake house 
.
Click Here to Leave a Comment