People are People Wherever You Go.

I haven’t had the chance to just sit and write or perhaps have not allowed myself to sit and write. I can’t let time slip by and lose all those bright and inspiring reflections I have had over the last months and perhaps years.

How time has flown and life has changed. Taking on new roles and responsibilities has been a constant happening in my life and the road ahead of me seems to look about the same. Since starting my nursing career there has been constant learning and the feelings of incompetence daily. It’s been a battle jumping into a career where people depend on your expertise and knowledge but you yourself feel like you are still learning so much. It leaves you feeling uncomfortable but also desiring to strengthen your knowledge base to better help people. There have been many times where I’ve wanted to quite and choose a different path. My Dad reminded me when I was in a moment of self-doubt and failure that true success is going from one failure to the next without losing enthusiasm. How hard it is to embrace failure and not lose enthusiasm for what’s next to come. I need to carry this attitude with me always since life will always have doses of failure along the road. If we close off our minds and let those thoughts seep in we will never reach our goals or see our true potential flourish. As much as nursing has had moments of failure and days where I have felt absolutely overwhelmed, exhausted and worn out, it also has been filled of incredibly joyful moments. Not only have I had the privilege to comfort those in some of their most painful and difficult moments but I also have learned so much through many of the patients I have cared for. I am always reminded of how much worse off so many people are in our city and that I have little to complain about. Working as a nurse has taught me a tremendous amount about people and the common thread of our humanity. We all have fears and insecurities as well as the inherent desire to do good in our world and to love others. Even when life is the darkest it has ever been, light can be found- with an incredible amount of hope, the haze and fog will lift! Patients and families with heavy burdens and facing enormous mountains to climb somehow find a small glimmer of hope and overcome it, which is incredible to see. A beautiful example of hope was a family who in the span of a year experienced loss that if I were to repeat it you would not even believe that all this could happen. For one, this mother found out she was pregnant with her fifth child but that her child was Trisomy 21. The ultrasound tech told her that 90% of parents abort when they find out their child has Down Syndrome. But this mother, she thought to herself, “I want to be that 10%!” And she was, she brought her “little peanut” into the world. But with much confliction, she felt alone in her decision and as she spent time in the NICU, her recently separated husband and herself battled whether they should put her up for adoption. In those next days as they cared and cuddled their baby something changed within them. This tiny baby renewed their hope, softened their hearts and gave them hope. I cannot fully express this beautiful experience and transformation in words but I felt privileged to be able to be a part of it.

The beauty I have seen since working as a nurse inspires me to continue to meet people where they’re at, hold no judgments and to truly listen to their needs. People are people wherever you go; if I work in a hospital in Calgary, a clinic in rural Nepal or Africa our human needs and longings are all the same. We desire to be seen as a “person,” not an “illness” or a “diagnosis.” We want to feel important and special and not just brushed by as another number or more work to “deal with.” What gets lost often in this profession is the purpose and reason we do what we do. We forget that we are trying to care for the patient, not our own “ego”, our “pride” or our satisfaction of knowing we did a good job. It is terribly easy to get into the motions of doing tasks and procedures that we forget that it is all for the patient’s well-being. It becomes more about “us” then about the patient and this terrifies me. The reason I went into this career was sparked by the intense and stark needs of the poor while travelling overseas and the power that healing touch has for people. It is a privilege to care for those who are vulnerable, sick, suffering and terribly afraid and this cannot be forgotten.

I have learned more than I ever imagined in this profession so far; The humility to accept my failures and weaknesses, the enthusiasm and courage to get up when I’ve fallen (after the hundredth time), the patience to listen and understand people from all walks of life, and much more. Most importantly though, my eyes have been opened to how we all desire to feel special and loved and that no matter how tough we look on the outside there is always that need of affirmative love and compassionate touch that goes a long way.

To Walk Two Moons in Another Man’s Moccasins

This gallery contains 35 photos.

I am sure everyone has heard the proverb “do not judge a man until you walk two moons (or a mile) in their moccasins.” This proverb has sunk deep within me over the past two months and has led me … Continue reading →

To the roots…

I grabbed an overripe banana and my Ethiopian shawl and ran out into the cold December morning – the only month of the year where the morning temperature drops significantly- where I jumped into the waiting Land Rover and was off; off to explore the roots of Ethiopia and the birthplace of Orthodox Christianity in the rock-hewn churches of Geralta.

* The photo gallery below has descriptions of some of the photos which can only be seen when you select ‘permalink’ on the photo

“The wind blows where it chooses, you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.” John 3:8

“Rather it is He who gives to everyone life and breath and everything…For ‘In Him we live and move and have our being.’” Acts 17: 25, 28

“In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.” John Muir

“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul.” John Muir

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Healing Hands of Joy

Every woman has a story like a thread pulling, twisting and curving through a tapestry coming together to form a masterpiece for the eye to see. The women at the Healing Hands of Joy Centre  (http://www.healinghandsofjoy.com/) in Makale, Ethiopia, who have recovered from obstetric fistula (find out more at this website: http://www.fistulafoundation.org/whatisfistula/faqs.html) , have a tapestry that has many pulling threads and the eye can see the pain they have lived through. But looking beyond that the colours are startling and full of joy and enthusiasm. The stories of these women, seen in their deep and captivating gaze, are heart wrenching but at the same time overflowing with joy.

The enthusiasm of these women to go back to their villages as Safe Motherhood Ambassadors to inform other women about how to have safe deliveries and to break cultural stigmas against women with obstetric fistula. These women stay at the HHOJ centre for 1 month where they are taught maternal health skills and nutrition as well as literacy and communication skills. They also have psychological counseling available for them. In the photo above the women are showing their art work they produced during one of their art therapy courses. For most of them it was their first time to draw and do art and were quite talented considering. The focus on their faces as they hunched over their paper and drew their hearts out was so childlike and beautiful. Most of them were drawing traditional Ethiopian dresses and crosses and others coffee pots and shade trees. It really was beautiful to see.

I then began to listen to each woman, with the help of an interpretor, as they poured out their stories. The average age of these women were married at was 15 and the average age they had their first child was 16. One woman’s marriage was actually pre-arranged while she was still in her mother’s womb. Then at the age of 6 she was engaged to this man or let me say boy and then 6 years later they were married. When she found out she had developed obstretic fistula when she was 14 her husband divorced her immediately, which is the case for many women. In Ethiopia this is a frequent occurrence due to deep cultural and religious beliefs that women have been cursed from evil spirits. Women can be shunned from their communities from 5 years to as long as 20 years in isolation. Also for women to be transported from a remote village to a hospital to give birth being carried as a woman is culturally not acceptable. Less than 6 in 10 women in developing countries give birth with any trained professional, such as a midwife or a doctor; and when complications occur which is about 15% of all births there is no one available to treat them. One of the main causes of fistula, which is entirely preventable and treatable with the proper facilities and care, is poverty and the low status of women. The beautiful thing about the Healing Hands of Joy Centre, which is the only one of its kind in the world, is that the women are able to heal and start their lives again. They are given a second chance, one that will empower them through gaining income-generating skills and purpose to their lives.

As I listened to the women, the translator told me that they wanted me to share something with them. I was rather surprised by the question because what do I know about their situation or what kind of encouragement can I leave for them. So I spoke from my heart and told them how I see much light in them and courage and I have no doubt that when they finish at the Centre they will go back to their villages and empower other women and raise awareness and education about fistula. As I was sharing this message it came to my mind that today, December 8^th, was the feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary. It could not have been a more appropriate and beautiful feast to celebrate with these women who have suffered the loss of their children through childbirth and are here now recovering and healing from this pain and much more to start new. I shared this also with them which was immediately followed by three shriek-like bird calls which is the highest expression of joy here. I tried to imitate this shriek thing they did but only resulted in peels of laughter that filled the room. They shared with me their gratitude because for their lives to be acknowledged by someone does not happen often. For a foreigner to affirm their worth and their dignity was a real gift to them. I honestly did not give or share much but as I expressed in one of my previous posts to be truly present is worth much more than one thinks. I felt in that room not pain or sorrow but of an immensity of joy that could not be held in. Yes, the heart-wrenching stories of young lives lost and suffocated by cruel realities was ever present, but the hope seen in their eyes banished all darkness in sight.

“Enthusiasm was understood by the Greeks to mean “God within us.” And so it is that when we open ourselves to enthusiasm we receive something from above that makes us capable of achievements otherwise beyond our powers. Enthusiasm is the burning spirit within that says, “I can!” It is the indomitable “Yes!” without which nothing worthwhile is ever accomplished.” Royal Robbins

I hope that these women may be healed and strive towards ending obstetric fistula with courage and the enthusiasm to face the many challenges women have in their country. Change is already occurring through greater awareness and education and especially through these women ambassadors who truly have ‘God within them.’

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Ethiopia: The Birthplace Of Coffee And Much More…

I feel as though I have stepped back in time as I witness horses trotting along the cobblestone streets carrying heavy loads behind them while donkeys meander through the middle of the main roads. But wait, I actually really have stepped back in time: it is the year 2004 here in Ethiopia, according to the Julien calendar, although it really could be more like the 1900’s.

Ethiopia has its own unique flavour, and feel to it. It is not at all like anywhere I have been in Africa and feels more like the Middle East. There is constant Bollywood music coming from every stone house flooding the streets and a desert landscape with women and men wrapped in their cotton shawls walking through the dry dusty fields with their donkeys at their side. Their language, Armarhic, sounds very much like Arabic and the people here are tall which I have not experienced in Africa thus far – and which I appreciate very much haha.

As most of you know Ethiopia is the birthplace of coffee and it was the Italians who took it back with them to Europe. The Italians interestingly enough were actually defeated by the Ethiopians in the Battle of Adwa in 1896 and were kicked out of Ethiopia but today there is a large presence of Italians and of course their Italian necessities (i.e. Nutella, pasta, olive oil) can always be found here. In regards to coffee though, here in Ethiopia drinking coffee is not like in North America where you grab your to-go cup and rush out of the crowded caffeine addicted café and chug it down and feel completely bloated afterwards. In Ethiopia drinking coffee, the traditional way, can take up to 1.5 hours. The first traditional coffee ceremony I experienced was with a young 17-year-old sponsor student from Imagine 1 Day (the organization that my friend has been working for during the past year; check out their website for more information and the amazing work they are doing: http://www.imagine1day.org/ as well check out my friend Leigh’s blog to learn more about Mulu and her story: http://hkboyle.wordpress.com/2011/11/17/the-little-girl-who-could/). She invited myself, and one of the other girls who works for Imagine 1 Day, who ironically enough is also from Vancouver. I think it was Mulu, the young girl’s first time preparing a coffee ceremony so the coffee apparently wasn’t that good (this is what Sandy, the girl from Vancouver was telling me), but to me it tasted “different” lets say, or maybe just extremely strong. There are many steps to the coffee making which involve boiling water first, then toasting the coffee beans and then mashing them and then pouring the boiling water over the ground beans. Then the coffee mixture passes from the clay pot on the coals into a cup and is then inverted back and forth between the two for a while. Then at last it is ready. In Ethiopia the number three is very significant on a religious basis representing God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit (the Trinity). Many things here are done three times including drinking coffee. The first cup, and the cups are small espresso sized cups – thank goodness -, you praise God the Father, then the Son and then the Holy Spirit. With the last cup you are also supposed to give your blessings to the person who prepared the coffee. With the coffee ceremony it is also a custom to eat popcorn with the coffee which I found really strange at first, but actually the two go together quite well. Mulu did a great job preparing the coffee but I do think she did not boil the water long enough because my stomach did not feel well at all after this.

One thing I enjoy about traveling is learning about different cultures and most particularly how people celebrate life’s moments. I love how people who barely know you will welcome you to sit down and have coffee with them, which does not mean a quick 15minutes but a full 1.5 hours. This openness to others and the appreciation of relationships is very present here and also in other parts of Africa and is something I will never lose admiration for. For we find the most freedom when we give of ourselves as a gift to others either with our time or talents. Freedom will take flight as we allow ourselves to open up to the grander possibilities of loving those around us.

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Traditional Coffee Ceremony in Ethiopia

A Year In Review: Aru, Democratic Republic of Congo

The expansive sky and splashes of bright colours stir my memory. One year to be exact and I am back in the village of Aru, Democratic Republic of Congo. What has changed? That is the first question that comes to mind, but maybe it would be better to ask how does one define change? What does it truly mean to change? It brings to mind the poem by Shelley Ozymandius about the ruins of an empire where all that remains are broken statues of people that once ruled the land and temples that stood tall.

“Nothing beside remains. Round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare. The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

This realization came to me that whether or not buildings have been built or not, or whether they have deteriorated or improved, it does not really matter in the end. All things will fall apart and crumble to the ground and all that is left is the story that is left behind. It is the lives we live that leave a mark behind and the presence that always rests in that place. Just like the words of one of the Sisters here in Aru who shared with me that it is not what you give the people but what matters is that you are there. These words were in reference to a visit to the prison here in Aru, where this Sister shared how one group of young people came carrying bread and other items to the prisoners and were so concerned about how they would present this gift and how much to bring that they overlooked the fact that to the prisoners it did not matter to them what they brought but that they came. To be present is truly a gift that we often overlook. It has been beautiful to be remembered by so many people here in this village of which I thought after one year I would be forgotten. I am very thankful that my goal in coming was not only to “see” improvement and development but also to be among the people, to be with them and to share in some way in their lives even if only for a short time. The lives of the people here unfortunately have not changed much. A few people have continued their studies either in Aru or elsewhere , many graduates from the secondary school have no work and remain in Aru doing nothing and the rest have either kept their past job or left Aru to search for employment. There have been a few changes which have given me hope and that is to see the locals here taking over the work that the volunteers here had originally set up. For example, the library here in Aru was built, funded and organized by the volunteers with help from the locals. Now the library is run solely by the Congolese which is amazing to see. It is Aru’s first library so the concept has not quite caught on yet, but hopefully people will soon start to appreciate and understand the beauty of a library.

In terms of change in the development sense of the word Aru has made baby steps but progress all the same. The library is finished, another classroom has been added to one of the primary schools, a new convent has been completed, a maternity ward has almost been completed at the health centre, there is a new cyber café, prison, bank, offices and entrance to one of the high schools, and a new police office. The most interesting change has been the free electricity that Aru has been benefiting solely from the past elections. A few days before I arrived Aru’s forlorn power lines along the road finally were put to use and have been in full use up to this point. My inclination is that after December 6^th when the results of the national election have been announced the electricity will be cut. Other positive changes in Aru have been, as I mentioned above the library being run by locals, as well as the bakery fully operated by the locals. The farm where Clara, a lay missionary, works has begun selling chickens and their eggs as well. The chicken farm is looked after by a local who also has learnt how to drive the tractor here and has taken on other responsibilities (such as President of Arustan, haha…but that is a whole other story). Clara has really pushed hard and fought to improve people’s situations here by finding work and creating opportunities. Her goal is for the people here is for them to have dignity in their work and not just have them rely on begging others to help support them. In the end, what will have been achieved? They will not have learnt anything or gained any dignity if everything is handed to them.  In order to create work for the people here one has to really fight for it. The mentality of the people here is that if things have been working fine why bother to change anything; their vision is very narrow minded which makes it difficult to bring in new ideas such as a library for example. Words often fall on deaf ears and despite the number of times you try to explain to people your reasoning it will never get through to some people; this is a constant occurrence here in Aru and as a westerner you need to learn how to work through this. There has been another step towards progress here which started with an American volunteer named Katie. She has started a project called Totonga Bomoi – Build Our Future- with the purpose of empowering Congolese women through the fabrication of handbags. It is a beautiful project and I plan to promote this project when I return to Canada and display the already made handbags by the women here. This has been an amazing step forwards, but to get things off the ground it takes a lot of perseverance and I commend Katie immensely for her dedication to starting this up.

There of course has been the flip side of the coin which is the lack of development and change here and I will not try to avoid confronting them. The most difficult reality to face is when you cannot do anything to change a situation. I finally came to the realization that I cannot change the way a mother treats her child and sometimes one has to walk away from a situation and pray that God will take it in His hands. My only thoughts consist of, “I will never treat my child that way,” and “every child deserves to be treated with respect and given the opportunities to learn.” Another difficult reality to face is to see one’s work derelict and looked after by no one. Unfortunately many projects that commenced during my time last year now have no one to follow them. There is a great disappointment felt with this and I cannot begin to point fingers at who is to blame but can only appreciate it for what it once was. For example, the soccer field and the volleyball court that were built are never used, my clinic at the health centre is non-existent, physical education class also does not exist anymore for the high school girls, the house I painted is not being used and a few other little things.

Many contrasting emotions have arisen during my week stay here in Aru; it has been difficult and amazing to be here all at the same time. New things have been revealed to me and other things confirmed. I am sad to leave again the people here in whom I have invested in and I have thought to myself, “ maybe it would have been better not to have come and visited at all because it is terrible to be among people whom you care for and a place that you hold close to your heart and then have to leave?” But I think back on the words of one of the Sisters who said that one need to open the door of our heart not just to the people who live around us but to the whole world, to wherever God calls us to love. Every encounter here was for a reason and there was a design behind it all. The African sun continues to rise and fall and in the end all that matters is that we love one another.

Rwanda: the land of a thousand hills and a million smiles

The terra rosa of Africa has a pulse that is difficult to explain to those who have never been there. This pulse is strong and surges into all those who step foot on this land. The colours, music, children, hands reaching to the heavens, smiles and landscapes are like the blood that feed this pulse. This pulse does not stop here; Africans have the ability to endure the hardships that lie before them every day. This strength of perserverance adds to the pulse along with a great trust in God. In the country of Rwanda this pulse is as strong as if you could feel your heart pounding through your chest. The strength of this country and its ability to rebuild and transform after their entire country literrally was dead is unbelievable. One would not believe that this country experienced a genocide where 1 million people died. The visible signs most evident are seeing many men with missing limbs such as legs and hands as well as burns and scars from machetes. There is a peace here which is evident in the way the people interact with one another. The people respect their President, his government and laws and have the desire to rebuild their country. With these attitudes in place a good foundation has already been layed. The words of a Rwandan Christian song really struck me as I listened in the home of an orphaned family. The chorus sang: “God protected you so you could look back at your life,” (in referance to the genocide). When speaking with the people here they will share their story of how they sruvived the genocide, and you can tell in their eyes and their voice that they know they must not let what happened happen again. The Rwandans I befriended all expressed the same thought which is, “we cannot forget the past! We must look to the future.” At the entrance of the Genocide Memorial Centre in Kigali there is a statement about the genocide which sums up the attitude of the majority of Rwandans which reads:

“This is about our past and our future; our nightmares and dreams; our fear and our hope; which is why we begin where we end…with the country we love.”

There is much hope here in Rwanda which the young people here (who make up 70% of the population, those <18 years of age) call “a little paradise.” This country that was filled with hatred beyond one’s comprehension is now beginning to be filled with love. For this love to come forth there needs to be forgiveness first or else there will be no room for love to grow. And, as written at the Genocide Memorial in Kigali:

“There will be no humanity without forgiveness. There will be no forgiveness without justice. But justice will be impossible without humanity.”

It also comes down to seeing each human being as equal to oneself and accepting them. In the words of a survivor of the Genocide, “if you knew me and you really knew yourself you would not have killed me.” To see each other without clouded lenses but clearly each individual as our brother or sister is the goal which is being accomplished here in Rwanda little by little, year after year.  It was beautiful to see an entire village of only orphans and windows living together in community. A young Rwandan girl, 32 years old, whom I became good friends with invited me to her village which is as descrive above. She herself is an orphan and has adopted 6 orphans. In Rwanda it is the law that every Rwandan is obliged to adopt an orphan. There are 300, 000 orphans in Rwanda and 85,000 children are heads of their households. I spent much time with the orphans in this village and one can observe how much love they crave. When in the Democratic Republic of Congo there are many children in the street who are poor but in Rwanda the kids will not let go of your hand and you can see how much they crave attention and need to be loved by someone. The adults take care of all the children they can possibly look after and it is truly inspiring, but it is not the same as a true mother or father. There are many billboards in Kigali which read: “look after every child like it’s your own.” This is something that adds to the strong pulse I have felt here in Rwanda which is the love for each other and the sense of community. I was walking through the village I mentioned with the 2 orphaned daughters of my friend and the two girls went into a house to visit a family and the family, which consisted of a girl my age with her younger brother and cousins, welcomed me like I was a part of their family. Then it started to rain and around a dozen or more orphans on the street paraded into this house and made themselves comfortable and we all watched Rwandan hiphop music videos on their t.v. Rwandans are truly a welcoming people and a country of a “million smiles” (which is written on their Visa). I have been truly inspired by the hope these people carry which for me is impossible to comprehend how one could live after seeing such attrocities during the genocide. They have God, and this is reitterated by many Rwandans when you speak to them. They have the source, Jesus Christ who is the way, the truth and the life.