End of Term

It’s been a good first half of the school year at the school for the deaf (even though this is the first time I’m writing anything about it this school year – so many other things were going on). On the 15th of December, we had our closing ceremony for the first term. Several parents came and the students ‘sang’ some Christmas songs, quoted some Bible verses, and performed a couple of skits. I know we need to do a few more programs like this during the year. Each time we have a program inviting the parents, the ones who come always talk about how touched and amazed they are to see how well-behaved their children are in the school and to see them signing, 'talking' to each other, 'talking' to the teachers and others who know sign, etc.

That’s one of the hardest things to do here – encourage the families and enlighten them so they become aware of the potential of their children with disabilities. So many of the parents struggle at home with their kids who are hard of hearing. They can’t communicate with them, the kids get frustrated and act out and the parents get frustrated and feel helpless. The parents decide that their kids really can’t do much of anything and will never be able to do much of anything.

It’s a huge struggle to be deaf or hard of hearing in Africa. There is so much stereotyping to overcome. I was listening to a program on BBC (the news station I most often can receive and listen to on the radio in Ghana) recently that was talking to listeners about what the blind and deaf are and are not capable of doing – about the possibilities out there for them and whether or not an employer could consider a person with visual or hearing limitations for a position, etc. If I could remember the date of the program I’d put a link in here so people could check it out. It was amazing how many people from Africa called in to say that people with such limitations can only be pitied and nothing can be expected from them.

But, back to the school for the deaf. I think the last time I wrote about it was early in August (pre-blog). At that time we were trying to make some changes – change the name of the school, add a few people to the Board of Directors, register the school under the Ghana government, etc. However, the founders of the school were strongly against any of these changes – they felt the school was theirs and that these changes would take the school away from them. So, the pace of the change making was slowed a bit.

I returned from my break to find some new people on the Board of Directors. It was a good start – I was happy to see that had taken place. And they were good people, too – people without the shared history of the school – people who wouldn’t be afraid to speak their minds, even if doing so meant contradicting the founders. So I was excited to work with them – we had a meeting two days after my return from break. And in the few meetings we’ve had before the term ended we were able to bring up the important developments needing to take place.

In addition to a stronger Board of Directors, the head of the PTA has been much more involved in the school. We also have a physical education teacher who’s been doing a great job – something we haven’t had before. The teachers seem more motivated this year. One of our teachers received advanced training focused particularly on the younger children, which has been the most challenging age group for our teachers in the past. He has taken over instruction of the class with the youngest children and is doing a fabulous job – implementing new ideas to instruct and interest the children. And we have a financial secretary on the Board of Directors who is extremely reliable and trustworthy, and as a result has taken a huge load off my shoulders.

With all that was going on with Abbie during the past few months, I was always happy when I had the opportunity to go to the school and to observe that things were going so smoothly.

If you want to hear more about the school for the deaf, I recently did an interview, which was aired on Chicago Public Radio (I did the interview while I was on my break, it aired on October 27, after my return to Ghana, and I’m finally getting a chance to ‘officially’ refer people to it now). Click on the word interview and you should go right there. There's an interview preceding mine. It's interesting to listen to, but if you want to skip straight to the information on the school for the deaf, then slide the time bar to 14 minutes, which is where my talk begins. It takes a little more than 13 minutes to listen to the whole talk.

“Look, heaven is crying . . .”

Abbie, 11/20/05, 1 week and 1 day after her 2nd surgery


On December 8, 2005, at 3 p.m., Abbie Nallo’s pain and struggle finally ended. She was a beautiful young woman who, for almost 2 years, has courageously been struggling to live. She was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma (a kind of cancer) while in Monrovia, Liberia. However, treatment was unavailable there, so she was advised to come to Ghana for her treatment. An SMA father, who has known Abbie and her family for years, was able to raise the bulk of the money needed for her operation, chemo and radiotherapy. He got the money to me and I was able to help with the process over the past year and a half. Her chemo ended this past August, and within a week or two, the cancer had already visibly returned. The father was once again able to help raise money needed for another operation, which this time also required removing one of her breasts, and for the necessary follow-up treatment.

Abbie was close to God until the end. They had a very personal, trusting, loving relationship. She was struggling, in pain and extremely weak. But, she felt God with her throughout the struggle. She continued to have powerful faith, hope and courage. In the hour+ car rides to the clinic to have her dressing changed she was constantly moaning, in constant pain and discomfort. Yet at the same time, she was in conversation with God. I feel blessed and privileged to have had the chance to know her, to have had her in my life for this time.

Some friends in Accra had been letting Abbie stay with them following her surgery, in spite of the stench of the cancer consuming her body, which became stronger and stronger, overpowering everything else as time went on. Abbie brought out the love from these women, in spite of the physical discomforts they needed to endure as a result.

Abbie’s Aunty has her own family, but was staying by Abbie’s side, which was not easy on a number of levels. There was constant moaning. There was coughing. There was vomiting. There were many sleepless nights. There were clothes and bedsheets constantly in need of serious scrubbing due to the body fluids continuously leaking from Abbie's body. And there was that smell/stench/etc. emanating from her. But the Aunty’s love was there

She was surrounded by love – and she shared her love, thinking of others even throughout the moans, nausea, weakness and stench coming from her rotting, cancer-ridden body. The past few weeks were filled with this contrast of beauty and horror. On her last day she proved to her Aunty that she was strong enough to walk to the bathroom. This was the only way the Aunty would leave for 2 days to attend the graduation of her own two children. I was on my way to the clinic, when, shortly after the Aunty had left Abbie, I received a call from the clinic that Abbie was now at peace.

I waited for a few of her friends from Accra to show up at the clinic, and then I helped to put her body into the back of the pickup truck I use for my work. As I left to take her body to the morgue (it’s the family’s responsibility to do a lot of these things – and I was acting on their behalf) from the clinic where she’d been admitted for her last few days, even the hospital staff was outside crying.

But Abbie was at peace. Her struggle, her fight was over. As we were driving to the morgue (about a 45 minute drive), an unusual rain for this time of year came pouring down, and Jeannie (another lay missionary who was going with me to visit Abbie that day and remained with me when I heard the news) said, “Look, heaven is crying.”

It’s sad to think of the terrible struggle she’d been through, especially in the past 4 months. It’s sad to think of how young she was. But, it’s encouraging to know that she was surrounded by love during this time – to know that her life brought out all this love from people. And it’s good to know that she’s now at peace.

Abbie Nallo, July 11, 1981 – December 8, 2006
Rest in peace.