It’s easy to cookie cut a patient’s story into a pretty little formula: 1. The suffering impoverished patient has no hope and tries everything to alleviate his condition. 2. By a miracle he hears of Mercy Ships and comes for free surgery. 3. He has surgery, goes home and lives happily ever after.
For anyone who has actually spent a considerable amount of time in a third world country knows that these cookies (or biscuits we would say) would be the African Marie Antoinette’s tea time treat. And someone’s life, as tempting as it is, cannot be squished into a fairy tale to make us all feel better.
But it is the hope within in the reality that is real. It’s when we see it for what it is that we truly appreciate this hope and that it maintains some meaning.
I first saw Yacinthe when he came to be screened by Dr Tertius (the plastic and reconstructive surgeon I am following for a documentary). Yacinthe consequently became one of his 4 patients I am following. He is ten years old, speaks Fon and lives in a rural red-mud-house village with about 100 of his relatives – primarily with his uncle. When he grows up he wants to be a Semi-Jan taxi driver (although his uncle has bigger dreams for him).
When Yacinthe was about two years old he woke up from an unattended siesta and crawled into a pile of leaves that concealed hot ash. Too young to jump out he sat in the ashes as they severely burned his leg until his older brother, hearing him, pulled him out. He grew up with his lower leg fused to his upper and his foot and toes deformed.
Four of us from the ship (including Franck our brilliant Beninoise translator) drove up North to spend 2 days capturing the life of this child before his surgery. We met his Beninoise social worker who kindly escorted us to the village some 15km from the town of Abomey.
I was not expecting to meet a confident boy. Nor an energetic athlete who could scramble to the top of a tree faster and higher than his classmates. It's hard to believe that a child with a short rusty crutch could manage to strut. We watched him play a soccer game where he would press his contractured limb against his crutch then leap into flight to kick the ball with his good leg. He was not particularly vocal but he moved like the wind and his mischievous face would regularly break out into a broad grin.
By chance his mother came to visit that day. She was 5 other children, one a baby, and has not been able to care for Yacinthe herself these past 4 years. Their reunion seemed awkward compared to his easy conversation with his uncle. I wondered how this boy felt seeing her after so long – and what was going through his mother’s head as I was not completely sure of the circumstances which led to Yacinthe being separated from her.
In a yellow rain coat, Yacinthe, (along with his trusty social worker and his mother) stood under a plastic tent in the early morning rain waiting for the ship to open. He seemed so small next to the huge white ship docked next to him. Once he’d walked up the gangway and had been admitted he walked into the hospital ward shaking all over. I reckoned he was cold from the rain and the unfamiliar air conditioning.
The surgery performed by Dr Tertius was incredible to witness. Though physical healing is restricted to this lifetime it does not take away from the fact that his leg that once was fused into a folded position became straight. Days later I watched him take some steps on his brand new crutches.
This is not to say that Yacinthe is giving us his Colgate smile. He’s quieter than usual, in a lot of pain and probably feeling very vulnerable in a strange environment and away from his uncle. And I cannot imagine the dynamic between him and his mother whose relationship must have changed the day of the accident and the day she had to walk away from the red-mud village. He knows that when he is healed and leaves the ship she will leave again. Furthermore he will have to relearn how to play soccer and climb trees.
When I go and visit him in the ward he is quite cool with me. It is difficult to build a strong relationship when he knows that I’m temporary too. So I make sure to visit him without the camera. To play Lego, attempt to read French children’s stories and give the odd hand massage.
The hope is not restricted to this Western ship. It’s Yacinthe in the treetop. It’s his headmaster’s immaculate chalky handwriting on an old blackboard. It’s the social worker’s genuine care and action to get Yacinthe all the help he can get.
Yesterday when I said goodbye he grabbed my hand and said a quiet “Merci” – our common foreign tongue. That’s not to say that I’ve won him over but to me that word was like the first time his blue bandage brushed the floor of Ward A.
These biscuits are hand made – each one irregular, different and unexpected. Some turn out sweeter than others but this one in all its uncertainty is sweet nonetheless.
For anyone who has actually spent a considerable amount of time in a third world country knows that these cookies (or biscuits we would say) would be the African Marie Antoinette’s tea time treat. And someone’s life, as tempting as it is, cannot be squished into a fairy tale to make us all feel better.
But it is the hope within in the reality that is real. It’s when we see it for what it is that we truly appreciate this hope and that it maintains some meaning.
I first saw Yacinthe when he came to be screened by Dr Tertius (the plastic and reconstructive surgeon I am following for a documentary). Yacinthe consequently became one of his 4 patients I am following. He is ten years old, speaks Fon and lives in a rural red-mud-house village with about 100 of his relatives – primarily with his uncle. When he grows up he wants to be a Semi-Jan taxi driver (although his uncle has bigger dreams for him).
When Yacinthe was about two years old he woke up from an unattended siesta and crawled into a pile of leaves that concealed hot ash. Too young to jump out he sat in the ashes as they severely burned his leg until his older brother, hearing him, pulled him out. He grew up with his lower leg fused to his upper and his foot and toes deformed.
Four of us from the ship (including Franck our brilliant Beninoise translator) drove up North to spend 2 days capturing the life of this child before his surgery. We met his Beninoise social worker who kindly escorted us to the village some 15km from the town of Abomey.
I was not expecting to meet a confident boy. Nor an energetic athlete who could scramble to the top of a tree faster and higher than his classmates. It's hard to believe that a child with a short rusty crutch could manage to strut. We watched him play a soccer game where he would press his contractured limb against his crutch then leap into flight to kick the ball with his good leg. He was not particularly vocal but he moved like the wind and his mischievous face would regularly break out into a broad grin.
By chance his mother came to visit that day. She was 5 other children, one a baby, and has not been able to care for Yacinthe herself these past 4 years. Their reunion seemed awkward compared to his easy conversation with his uncle. I wondered how this boy felt seeing her after so long – and what was going through his mother’s head as I was not completely sure of the circumstances which led to Yacinthe being separated from her.
In a yellow rain coat, Yacinthe, (along with his trusty social worker and his mother) stood under a plastic tent in the early morning rain waiting for the ship to open. He seemed so small next to the huge white ship docked next to him. Once he’d walked up the gangway and had been admitted he walked into the hospital ward shaking all over. I reckoned he was cold from the rain and the unfamiliar air conditioning.
The surgery performed by Dr Tertius was incredible to witness. Though physical healing is restricted to this lifetime it does not take away from the fact that his leg that once was fused into a folded position became straight. Days later I watched him take some steps on his brand new crutches.
This is not to say that Yacinthe is giving us his Colgate smile. He’s quieter than usual, in a lot of pain and probably feeling very vulnerable in a strange environment and away from his uncle. And I cannot imagine the dynamic between him and his mother whose relationship must have changed the day of the accident and the day she had to walk away from the red-mud village. He knows that when he is healed and leaves the ship she will leave again. Furthermore he will have to relearn how to play soccer and climb trees.
When I go and visit him in the ward he is quite cool with me. It is difficult to build a strong relationship when he knows that I’m temporary too. So I make sure to visit him without the camera. To play Lego, attempt to read French children’s stories and give the odd hand massage.
The hope is not restricted to this Western ship. It’s Yacinthe in the treetop. It’s his headmaster’s immaculate chalky handwriting on an old blackboard. It’s the social worker’s genuine care and action to get Yacinthe all the help he can get.
Yesterday when I said goodbye he grabbed my hand and said a quiet “Merci” – our common foreign tongue. That’s not to say that I’ve won him over but to me that word was like the first time his blue bandage brushed the floor of Ward A.
These biscuits are hand made – each one irregular, different and unexpected. Some turn out sweeter than others but this one in all its uncertainty is sweet nonetheless.
Yacinthe playing a popular Beninois game in his village (Photo: Debra Bell)
Schooltime soccer game (Photo: Debra Bell)
Yacinthe in the tree tops (Photo: Debra Bell)
Yacinthe and I at his village school (Photo: Debra Bell)
Yacinthe recovering in a Mercy Ship hospital ward after surgery by Dr Tertius (Photo: Debra Bell)
Prayer Requests
1. That Yacinthe's leg will heal quickly and that we will be able to move around as soon as possible.
2. For Yacinthe and his mother's relationship.
3. For Ambroise's surgery on Wednesday 22nd (35 yr old man with abnormal blood vessels on neck)
4. For Fadila's surgery on Friday 24th (11 yr old girl's correction of nose and eyelid birth abnormality)
5. For Bernadette's hand surgery on Monday 27th. (Hand immobile since fishbone injury)
6. That all the filming will go smoothly.
7. For increased wisdom, faith and patience.
Thank you for all your prayers. I have been so blessed with so so many answered prayers. God has opened so many doors for the documentary, for special time with patients and crew and providing me with great mentors on board. I am really being inspired with my faith through all the people I am meeting and witnessing so many lives being changed. There have been the odd difficult moments but He has come through faithfully. Thank you to all of you who have been making this possible.
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