Africans dressed for a snowstorm

I arrived at the Liberian airport in tears. I pulled myself together to clear security and check-in. Good thing the flight was not full because the airline did not have my reservation. I boarded the plane with a heavy, exhausted heart. I attempted to settle in for the 7 hour flight to Brussels. Full of emotion and wanting to cry, I closed my eyes and started to pray. A few hours later I woke up and enjoyed a lovely airplane meal of rubber lasagna. It actually tasted amazing! With all the packing a good-byes during the day, I had forgotten to eat and I was ravenous. I laughed out loud when I saw a Liberian walking down the aisle wearing a stocking cap and the thickest winter jacket. I looked around the plane and realized all the Africans were dressed for a snowstorm. Bless their hearts! I arrived safely in Brussels and hit my first wave of culture shock. The airport was huge and decorated for Christmas. I missed spring and fall, so it is odd to think Christmas is coming! There were so many white people and none of them were smiling. My travel buddy Karoline and I sat in the corner with small tears forming in our eyes. We smiled when a Liberian women and her small boy approached us. They needed help making a phone call. I resisted the urge to grab the little boy and kiss him all over. Karoline helped the woman and said it was all worth it just to hear her say, “thank-you-oh.” A few hours later, I said good-bye to Karoline and we went our separate ways. It was perfect for Karoline to be the last person I said good-bye to. She was one of the first people I met on the ship. She was from Canada and when we met, we found out we were both nursing graduates from Trinity Western University. We even shared the same favorite professor. Karoline is ending here 3 years of service with Mercy Ships and our last week on the ship; she had the assignment of training me for my role of charge nurse next year. In essence, she is passing me here baton of service. Pray for her as her adjustment will be very difficult. I slept the majority of my 9.5 hour flight to Chicago. I did wake up for all my wonderful airplane meals. I do not know if the quality if airplane food has greatly improved or if my taste buds were really tired and out of shape, but I thought the food was divine! I had grapes! It was awesome. I have really been craving fresh produce and those 7 little grapes were delicious! I cleared US customs and was granted entry back into America! The airport was cold! I had gone from 99* F weather to 32*F in Chicago. My flip-flops were not cutting it. I guess it did not help matters that I made my first meal chocolate milk, a chocolate milkshake, and a crisp salad! The proper milk was incredible. I grew up on powered milk, which I am totally accustomed to, but I never could get used to the boxed room-temperature milk on the ship. I was pumped to have some real milk; I bet my calcium-depleted bones appreciated it too. The shivers that went up and down my spine were worth it as the smooth, milky beverages coated my throat! My lay-over was 6 hours in Chicago. After sobbing on the phone with my parents, I enjoyed a 30 minute massage from a little booth in the airport. I then called some of my best friends on the ship and was blessed to hear their voices. I feel asleep on the plane from Chicago to Salt Lake City, before the airplane took off. I was shivering and the Latin man next to me loaned me his sweatshirt. Even though I was totally out to the world, we spoke in Spanish and I thanked him for the use of his sweatshirt. I might have been dreaming it, but I think he told me my Spanish was fairly good. Oh, the inner conflict of my love for the Latin culture and language, but my growing passions and current call to Africa. God works in mysterious ways. Smelly, weary, and beyond the point of confused, and jet-lagged, I arrived in the arms of my wonderful God-fearing, parents. We quickly snagged my luggage and started the 2.5 hour drive to Idaho. After 39 hours of travel, I arrived at my child-hood home. I stood in the huge, spacious living room of my parent’s home and stared at the wall. I wanted to sleep, eat, use the toilet, shower, run around like crazy, cry, scream, and sleep all at the same time. After a few minutes of indecision, I settled for a shower. I took a 2 minute shower and even shut the water off and on in between the shampooing process. My parents were proud of me. I have learned many good things from living on a ship in Africa! Confused and uncertain of what time it was or which country I was in, I feel asleep thanking God for my African Adventures and that His story with me and adventures for me are not finished yet. More to come.

tears

It is the night before I leave Africa. I am sitting here at the computer full of emotion, exhausted, with tears running down my face. I have tears of sadness, grief, joy, and pure exhaustion. I am sad... to leave Liberia, the ship, and so many of the friends I have come to love here. I am sad... to know that many of my best friends will not be on the ship when I return. I grieve... for those we were not able to help and for the people of Liberia as they rebuild after their horrific years of war. Life is not easy here. My tears of joy come because God is so good. He has blessed me beyond anything I deserve. He has truly helped me to find a home wherever I am, because He is with me. My suitcase is empty, my flight arrival time is not confirmed, my room is a mess, I have good-byes to say, and I am tired. I will write more later. I leave the ship tomorrow at 5:00pm Africa time, which is 5 hours ahead of NH, 7 hours ahead of ID, and 8 hours ahead of BC. I covet your prayers as I travel home. Stay tuned to my blog from many postings of the "untold stories of Liberia." I love all of you.

what your name?

"What you name?" I cannot even count how many times I have been asked that question and how many times I have asked that question of the people I meet here. At home, I've met many people with a variety of names... from Tom, Sam, Rachel, Kim, David, Kelly, and so on and so forth. Occasionally, I meet someone with an slightly more unique name such as Shalom, Lanae, Ali, Jonas, or Logan, but even those names are not that unusual. In Africa it is a different story altogether. Most little girls dream of meeting a handsome prince, falling in love, and riding off into the sunset to a land of "happily ever after." I have dreamed of finding my prince, but never did I imagine, that I would actually meet someone named Prince. One of the first weeks I was here, I took care of a patient named Prince, he was charming, and did ask me to marry him, but I graciously declined. I was shocked that my patient was actually named Prince, but now that I have been in Africa for 7.5 months I now know that Prince is actually one of the more "normal" names. I have met Darling Boy his name was a great fit, he actually was very darling. Another baby was named Praise. We called him Mega Praise because he is one big baby. I have also met Gift, Baby Girl, Blessing, Peewee, Playboy, God's Gift, Baby, Princess, Precious, Dearest, Hope and Joy( a set of twins), Anointed, Lucky Boy, and Daughter. Some more of the common names in Africa include Hawa, Finda, Kaymah, Varlee, Bendu, Jitta, and Esi. I have asked a number of the parents where they come up with the names for their children and most of them say from life circumstances. This past week I took care of a delightful, little 3 month-old baby that had a cleft lip surgery, his name.... Oldpa.... There was nothing old or pa about him, I have no idea where that name came from, but I won't ever forget him or his name. Directly across from Oldpa was my 5 year old patient named... Mama.... I love this place! This culture is so unique and beautiful.

Stinky, Dirty, White Girls

After working 62 hours in 6 days, I was ready for a little down time. Although I wanted nothing more than to sleep for days, I mustered up the energy for a small adventure. The plan was to go to the market. In any developed country, a trip to the market is not normally considered an adventure, but in Africa, everything is an adventure! My friend Tina and I filled our water bottles, donned our sun cream (Irish term for sunscreen), carefully stowed our spending money in our bags, and set out for the day. The idea was to take a taxi to Water Side, a market known to have beautiful African fabric and fun wheelbarrows to shop from. We left the ship early in the morning; hoping to avoid the heat and competition for a taxi. We reached the main road and hoped for a taxi, considering we had only been outside for 10 minutes and the sweat was already forming droplets above our lips. It is hot here and there was no chance we wanted to walk the 45 minutes-1 hour that it would take to reach the market. Taxi after taxi rushed past us as we held our pathetic, little, white, fingers in the air, pointing to the direction we wished to go. Finally, it was decided we should walk father down the road to where more taxis gather. No luck; overfilled taxis continue to whizz past us. Jokingly, I suggest we ask a little man with a wheelbarrow if he would push us to the market. People here are more than willing to do anything for money. Besides my buddy and I weigh less than the weight of the bricks, concrete, steel, or lumbar that the men here normally push. We keep walking with the hopes that eventually we will find a taxi. At this point, the sun is scorching and there is absolutely no shade in site. The road I am walking on does not have sidewalks. I weave my way around huge potholes, piles of garbage, poop, and wheelbarrows. To my left, there is a two lane road, with about 5 lanes of traffic in it. Everyone makes their own path. I hope I don’t get sideswiped on my quest for an adventure. I stop and drink almost a gallon of water in one gulp. Momentarily refreshed, we carry on. Everyone in town is starring at the two white girls walking down the street. It makes me feel awkward. I hate feeling awkward, so I smile, wave, and say, “How you be? Or “How d’ body be?,” typical Liberian greetings. The hard stares disappear and I’ve made new friends. One hour later, I am thoroughly drenched with sweat, but I have reached the market. Holy cow it is hot! Can it really be November? Exhausted and almost out of water; let the shopping begin! We wander around street after street, stopping to look at fabric, and all the other interesting items for sale. One man yells, “white woman, come here, for you, I make good offer, guaranteed quality here.” As he tries to sell me previously worn shoes that were shipped from American and were supposed to be handed out for free to the needy people here. Another man shouts at my friend, “I want to marry you! Carry me to America!” My friend and I cannot help but giggle and she says, “Sorry-oh, I’m Canadian!” He is quick to reply, “Okay, carry me to Canada!” We laugh and keep walking. Hour after hour passes as we wander the market streets. We are thoroughly parched and look for something safe to drink. We spy a little umbrella on the street corner with a cooler in its shade. We hope it has cold, sealed, drinks inside. Although, anything wet at this point would be divine! To my great surprise, there is not only soda, but juice for sale! Juice is hard to come by here. I purchased two 100% pure Minute Maid orange juices. Oh, how exquisite it tasted! I haven’t had proper orange juice since April and my thirst is now quenched! More shopping! Behind me on the street there is loud music blaring. The sound quality from speakers on a moving wheelbarrow is impressive! When I can finally decipher the words from all the other market noise, I recognize the song as one of my favourite African tunes! I decide to barter with the mobile DJ for a CD. I must have a copy of my favorite music to play for all my friends at home! While the wheelbarrow driver is playing me different selections from the album, my buddy and I attempt to dance along with the music. A small crowd forms and the locals laugh and laugh at the attempt of white girls trying to dance. I’ve got no rhythm! A deal was sealed and I walk away content with my new purchase, just hoping the CD actually works. A few more hours have passed and we are feeling hungry. We stop a woman with bananas on her head and purchase two for about 20 cents. My buddy quickly peels her banana and is ready to take a bit when I accidently bump her arm, causing her to drop it onto the street! She was so sad! No five second rule here. A police man watched the entire exchange and quickly stopped the banana lady and said, “Two more bananas for the ladies, on me.” I cannot say I have ever had a man buy me bananas before. I was touched! We thanked him and he thanked us for our work with the Mercy Ship. Very few white people hang out in Liberia, therefore, he had a pretty good guess that we were with the ship. Satisfied with our little snack, we keep wandering around the market. We were looking at some beautiful fabric pieces for an African outfit, when an elegant African lady stopped at the fabric booth down the row from where I was standing. She was wearing a very unique, stunning dress. I have been here for almost 8 months and I have never seen such a dress. She caught me starring at her, so I quickly explained that I was admiring her dress. She proudly told me she made it and went on the say she was a seamstress and had a shop just around the corner. She promptly offered to sew a dress for me and invited me to see where her shop was so I could come for measurements; after purchasing fabric. I asked how far her shop was, she assured me, “not far, just around the corner.” That was my first mistake. In Africa, you should never ask how far something is in distance, but rather in how long it takes to get there. “Just around the corner,” turned out to be a good 45 minutes walk. Yikes! I should have worn better shoes! She had a very nice little shop and I told her she may see me in the future. We have been out in the sun for about 6 hours now. I cannot believe how much time I can spend in the market, especially when there is not much to buy and I don’t have any money. We decided to look in a few more fabric stores and then head back to the ship. We stepped into a store that had a fan running on a generator; we pretended to be looking at the items for sale, while catching a few cool blasts of air from the fan. I was more subtle about my intentions in the store than my friend and the store owner abruptly told her she would have to pay for the use of his fan. We went on our way. We ducked into a Lebanese owned fabric warehouse. The temperature inside this room was intense. My friend told the store owner he needed a fan. He said he would love one, but then all the street folk would gather around his fan and not buy anything. Smart man! The man made small talk while we looked at his fabric and he asked if we wanted something to drink. I was slightly confused by his offer considering he sells fabric and there certainly wasn’t a vending machine in the corner of his store. We attempted to decline his offer, but the dried grooves of pre-dehydration on my tongue spoke up. Next thing I knew, a little black man from behind the fabric piles ran out into the market and returned with two ice cold Sprites. Wow, what an incredible day! I haven’t had a man buy me dinner, or anything like that for about 10 years, and in one day a free banana and a Sprite! I was blessed by the kindness of the shop owner and police man. It was like God was smiling down on me, he didn’t answer my prayer for a cool breeze or clouds in the sky, but he knew my hearts cry was to feel refreshed and he provided for me in different ways. Time to go home, but there was a small, small problem; the need for a taxi. I was certain my legs would not carry me back to the ship. Tina and I stood on the street side and began the waiting process for a taxi. We laughed out of pure exhaustion at our pathetic state. We looked horrible and didn’t smell much better! We weren’t getting anywhere and it was getting late and we didn’t want to miss dinner on the ship! Thankfully, a police man, different from the banana police man, came to help us get a cab. He wasn’t having much success at first, but then he flagged down a private vehicle and the driver agreed to drive us to the ship. We made the 7 minute drive to the ship and I asked the man how much we owed him. He declined my money offer and thanked us for our hard work for the Liberian people. I felt I owed him something for his generosity, so I offered him my shiny, red apple. He quickly accepted my payment and drove off. We were stinky, sweaty, thirsty, hungry, and dirty, but home. What a day!

Vote

Over the past few months, I have been humbled and encouraged to have a number of my African friends tell me they are praying for America. I know America is a mission field and needs prayer, just as any other country but, at times I revert back to the mentality that America and other developed countries are without need. It is easy to view European countries and North America as the countries that are to be praying for and sending missionaries to underdeveloped nations, not the other way around. I know this mentality is completely faulty, but nonetheless, it exists. Being on the ship has been an incredible blessing and it has been awesome to see the cultural diversity in God's kingdom. It has strengthened my faith to see so many people from different walks of life, believing the same Gospel and message of salvation. In essence, the ship is a tiny taste of heaven. There are people here from many tribes, tongues, and nations; all working together for God's glory. The message we believe in is the same. There are people on the ship from Ireland, Wales, England, Norway, Sweden, Holland, Germany, Russia, Ukraine, Korea, Japan, Nepal, Canada, USA, Central America, Jamaica, Brazil, Dominican Republic, Nigeria, Togo, Benin, Kenya, South Africa, Sierra Leone, Ghana, New Zealand, and Australia. Those are just a few of the countries represented here on the ship. Over the past few weeks there have been plenty conversations regarding the upcoming election in the United States. My African friends have told me they are very concerned about our election because they know what takes place in America, influences the rest of the world. I am glad that my friends are lifting America up in prayer. America is at a critical point in its history. Other countries recognize it, but do we? We need to unite and come before God as a nation. As election day is here, do not fear. America is in God's hands, people are lifting our country up in prayer. Take your stand today, continue to pray for our country, and vote today! Forgive me, I know this post is fragmented and poorly written. I am in the middle of another night shift. My thoughts are all over the place, but I cannot stress the importance of your votes today!

So, what next?

It is November 1, 2008 and I have been in Africa for almost 7 months now! I cannot describe how wonderful it has been to be here living my childhood dream, of serving the Lord in medical missions. I have enjoyed every minute of my time here (well, not the minutes when my kidney stones were moving around). But, nonetheless, I am passionate about the work here and the work that Mercy Ships is doing for the Kingdom. I have embraced the African culture with all my heart and energy and it has been an incredible and extremely rewarding experience! The Liberian people are amazing. Their unwavering faith, courage, compassion, and gratitude encourage me in so many ways. In my mind, this trip was a trial of sorts, to continue exploring the call of missions; I feel God has placed on my heart. Prior to this trip, I had completed a number of brief mission trips, but hungered for more exposure to missions. The past 7 months here have been a great exposure to missions and at this time in my life, I cannot imagine going back to my totally comfortable life and job in America. I feel a huge part of me would be aching to be back in Africa with Mercy Ships. Therefore, after much consideration and listening to God’s leading, I have decided to continue serving with Mercy Ships! This decision was not made irrationally and I believe many of you will not be surprised at my choice to come back to Africa. So, what next? I am returning to Idaho, as originally planned for the holidays. I will be leaving Africa November 21, 2008. I will stay in Idaho through American Thanksgiving. I will then travel to New Hampshire December 3- December 16. I am hoping to connect with all my WLBC and DHMC family and friends in New Hampshire. I will also be looking to move some of my belongings into more permanent storage. I may also try to sell my car. In mid December, I will return to Idaho and spend Christmas with my family, brother, sister-in-law, my brother’s in-laws, and my Paul Baptist Church Family. In mid January, I will be going to the headquarters for Mercy Ships in Garden Valley, Texas. I will be enrolling in a course called Gateway. The course is designed to train and equip people for long-term service in missions. There is a field project with this course in the Dominican Republic. I am excited about this outreach because I will have a chance to continue working on my Spanish and my love for tortillas, rice, and beans, along with little caramel colored children remains. After the outreach to the Dominican is complete, I will be returning to the ship. In early March, I will fly to Benin and board the Mercy Ship once again. Benin, another extremely poor, West African country, is the 2009 Mercy Ship Outreach location. Benin is east of Liberia and shares its Western border with Togo and Eastern border with Nigeria. A few small facts about Benin; it is the birth place of Voodoo and the official language is French! I have also been asked to be a charge nurse upon my return. This role will be challenging for sure! My African adventures are just beginning and I am so thankful that all of you are in it with me. I love you and cherish you. I covet your prayers and support in every manner as I continue to serve our Lord. “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for ME will save it!” Luke 9:24 In His Hands and Will, Laura Ziulkowski