The Last to Leave

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

First and only day in the village of Mobanta outside of Makeni

The team loaded up and started driving before light on our way toward Makeni, about 2 and a half hours outside of Freetown. The road was a surprisingly modern highway and our drivers sped merrily along, causing some definite white-knuckle moments. Once we reached Makeni, we met up with some of our helpers from Freetown who had travelled the same route via taxi. The group then loaded up and drove a short distance outside of Makeni to a village called Mobanta. It was already a late start and then the community had an appreciation ceremony for the team. Wonderful drumming—I know there must be African rhythms in heaven.

The only problem was that we were supposed to set up the clinic in the same building as the ceremony. So when we started setting up, the whole community was already crowded in around the examination area and the pharmacy tables. The volume was so loud and the people so aggressive that at one point early on Sheila Leech made the call and the team retreated outside until things got more organized and peaceful. We learned that some of the helpers that had traveled from Freetown were nearly worthless in the local languages and their accents from the city were actually looked down on by the folks here.

Thankfully, one of the helpers must have been from nearby and had the right accent. She was able to get things settled down and organized—herding in small groups of 10 patients at a time as the team was ready. It only took about the amount of time it took for us to sip a cold drink before we were up and running again. But the tension in the air had been palpable.

It didn’t seem like long before more than 200 patients came through and things were winding down. That is all things except Dorothy, who had a huge circle of children outside the clinic playing duck, duck, goose. The laughs echoed off the nearby clay houses as Dorothy sped around the circle trying to catch the kids.

The heat remained oppressive in the metal-roofed clinic building with the temperature topping 100 degrees Fahrenheit during the hottest part of the day. We were all dripping.

The group was staying at a guest house in Makeni that night, but because Dr. Conteh had to return to Freetown, the two remaining vehicles had to make two trips to get everyone there. I was in the second group and got the pleasure of candidly watching as nurses Sheila Leech and Jessica McMillan, despite the long, hot day, sang songs to the children while perched on the steps of the clinic as the African sun turned the signature red and dropped below the trees.

As the light faded, the uproar of the exciting day also faded into the day-to-day life in the village. Two women pounded the cassava root to make fufu—a delicious West African dish. A mom soaped down her young baby before bedtime. Men strolled or rode bicycles home following a day at work. And the incessant sound of the well pump “squeak-splash, squeak-splash” as people gathered water for the evening.

Sometimes it pays to be the last to leave.