A New Year Novel

Happy New Year everyone! Here is a real, true, live update. I wrote it and posted it in the same day.

I am sitting in my host family’s house babysitting their two kids as I have done before when the parents are both needed somewhere else. Such is the life of these involved doctor parents, and it looks like their kids will probably turn out somewhat the same. Michaela and Joshua are constantly occupied with playtime and book reading, but not today because four-year-old Michaela has malaria. “Having malaria” is a common term the natives use for saying the symptoms of malaria are strong on a certain day, since pretty much everyone has it, and the symptoms only come when the immune system is not doing as well. There are so many different types of malaria, and most Africans can live quite alright with it, so they don’t often treat it or take preventative measures for it unless it is severe malaria. But for those who haven’t grown up with it, it is a different story, and possibly quite a scary one since there is a special kind of malaria in this part of Africa called cerebral malaria that effects the brain. I don’t know much more about anything, except that it’s hard to tell which kind you have except for the patterns in the symptoms. Unfortunately most malarias have symptoms that are pretty much the same, except for sure the cerebral kind, but since it is more severe you don’t want to get to that point. That’s why when you have malaria for the first time, especially foreigners, it should be treated very seriously. Yesterday when Michaela first started feeling icky I didn’t understand the implications on her health until Belen stated she was going to wake her up to check on her mental abilities. “Whoa. What?” I thought. And I asked them when they were done checking on her how long it took for cerebral malaria to become seriously damaging.

“Within hours.”

Talk about a brick wall. Suddenly everything slowed down and I got a chance to glimpse into another part of Nigerian life. I’m not implying that Michaela is fatally sick, because she appears to be doing much better today, but it did give me a small glimpse into what it would be like if she was. When a child dies in America, it is a big deal – devastating, a huge tragedy – when a child dies in Africa it is sorrowful and tragic of course, but common almost. Even saying these things, I know you cannot fully understand. It was only after I got a chance to experience a part of Michaela’s life that I could take a small peek into this understanding. I laughed with her. I got impatient with her. I pretended with her. I read to her. I disciplined her. I taught her. And only after that could I see more fully what a difference in definition “tragedy” is to Africa then to America.

It is still difficult for me to understand their (native) lives and how they live so basically and survive. Survival of course is an innate sense but I am referring to being able to live comfortably and with a sort of insurance on everything working out alright. Insurance? What’s that? When a car crashes, it gets pushed to the side of the road. When a house burns down, two families cram together in one house. When the government wants land, it will be taken from whoever whenever. When equipment fails, it’s lost. There are no receipts, no return policies, and no set prices. When you need water, you may not have it. When you need food, you may not have it. If you get robbed, your stuff is gone. If your child gets kidnapped, only prayer will bring her back. If the police ask for money, then you should probably give them money. If you ever run out of money, then you will have to borrow from a friend or resort to bartering until you have enough again. Here is a perspective the Adventist hospital here is trying change: “if you are sick you will stay sick unless you have enough money to pay for it.” I’ve heard many times that they will find sponsors for people who don’t have enough money to pay for their hospital bills, or they will dip into their Patient Care fund, where people have donated a lump sum especially for that purpose.

At home one of my favorite shows was Extreme Makeover: Home Edition because I so enjoyed all those families living in extremely poor conditions getting an unexpected chance at living in a mansion. Honestly, I cry during that show, so I was blown away when I got here. I knew it was going to be bad, of course, but I didn’t realize that I would be able to count on one hand how many upper-class houses I’ve seen. I could probably say the same for the middle-class houses as well. When I say “upper-class” they are nice because they have walls that completely enclose the house, and probably a few air conditioning units. Most of their money is spent on their fence, and maybe a few of them might even have pools and some nice rugs and furniture. In fact, they probably have a way to have power, or use a generator most of the time, and actually have some comforts that a good portion of Americans may not have. But really the equivalent of an upper-class house to us is an upper-middle-class house at best. Middle-class houses are what we would consider lower-class houses in the States. Lower-class houses are what we would consider junk piles. And still everyone has rats. Everyone has dirt and dust everywhere. Practically no one has a refrigerator. Everyone loses power at some point in the day. Everyone experiences bad traffic. A good portion doesn’t have running water. And like I said, every family experiences sickness. The very basics of what we expect out of life – such as good health and a place to sleep at night – are not things that most of Africa experiences. The truth is I don’t know the amount of people in extreme poverty, or even poverty. I don’t know where to draw the line. I don’t know how to convey it, even more so because when I say “almost all” it doesn’t seem to get the message across.

I know that you’ve heard the Africa story over and over but don’t do it…. Don’t lump this with the others in the back of your brain until it’s your turn to tell an exciting story. Ever wonder why you hear so many of the same stories with the same endings and the same troubles from Africa? IT’S BECAUSE THEY’RE ALL TRUE. I think it is hard for us to be impacted by this because we cannot understand living our lives like so many others are. I’m telling you now that it’s extremely difficult for me to understand it and I’m living in it right now! But I can’t forget who these people are because I’m talking with them, greeting them, and answering questions on my well being, all the while surrounded by this “impossible to imagine” environment. It is really hard, and I don’t expect to fully understand it by the time I come home. But I do know this: when I come home I won’t get mad at the waitress for bringing me the wrong food because I’ll be happy to have guaranteed food (like I have now), let alone the options. Let alone the promise of getting to the restaurant safely. Let alone eating with those I love. Let alone sitting in a temperature-controlled environment. Let alone being able to pay for food. Let alone knowing I’ll be able to eat another meal another day, let alone the same day. Let alone knowing I’ll be going home to a warm bed and enclosed walls with a soft pillow and fuzzy blankets. Not that every culture doesn’t have its general issues. Not that the human race isn’t all struggling in a world of sin and constant trials. But experiencing another country’s trials opens up a perspective.

There is something that changes a missionary. Someone who goes into a different culture, who tries to make a difference, who isn’t doing it for side reasons or business purposes… there is a change that happens to that person. It changes them because they see the environment they must live in for a certain amount of time and they are forced to change in order to adjust and they must go on through the rest of their lives having experienced that change. They will never look at life the same. And it is their job to help others realize why they changed and act as a middle-man between two very different cultures. Because I know you may never experience the same things I am experiencing I will try to do my best to interpret this life to you.