I had planned to do an update on Dixon for some time now, but then there was Adjuah, and then there was other stuff, and then I fell a little sick. I’m feeling much better now – better than before the sickness in some ways. I’d been healthy for a long time, and it’s easy to forget how it is to be sick here. I think a lot of the people I work with and see every day are frequently getting by at some level of sickness. A little malaria here, a little typhoid there, some stomach or intestinal parasite, plain old tiredness due to any number of factors contributing to poor quality sleep – the list could go on. So it’s a good reminder of what so many people go through regularly – granted, I accompany people through it regularly – going to hospitals and pharmacies with/for them – but I’m not usually sick (although being healthy/not-sick doesn't make it a pleasant experience). It’s easier to wait in crowded waiting rooms, sometimes with only the wall to hold you up, when you’re feeling fine. It’s a different story when you’re less than fine and waiting three hours to get your blood drawn so the doctor can determine what’s up (and that’s 3 hours just for the lab, it doesn’t include the hours waiting to register so you can then wait hours to see the doctor before being sent to the lab, and then the time waiting after the lab to give the doctor the lab results, and then the time waiting at the pharmacy for whatever drugs are prescribed, and then the time waiting to pay the bill –all while feeling you’re in another world and wishing you really were in another world. Fortunately, I only needed to wait the three hours for the lab – I knew the doctor and he knows the work I’m doing, so he didn’t have me wait to see him or do the rest.) And for me, I can take 2 ½ days just to sleep and wallow in my misery. I can get the medicine. I can get fresh fruits and vegetables and other food to help me get my strength back afterwards. And when it’s over I can feel more than 100% and even grateful for being reminded how good it is to feel fully healthy. I live in luxury here – I can see sickness as an experience for me – even as an experience I can be grateful for – how ridiculous is that? (As I’m wallowing for those 2 ½ days I’m not necessarily grateful, though.)

Dixon on the way home from the hospital,

enjoying some chicken his hospital roommate gave

him for the ride home.

Anyway – Dixon. On 24 August he’ll be going back to the hospital for his one month review. It’s great to see him. He’s so happy with the results of his surgery. He still has pain. He still has some limited mobility while recovering, but he feels the difference within. Fortunately, through an organization in Holland (Liliane Fonds) and through other donations (a significant portion from the congregation of an aunt, who’s a Maryknoll missionary in the Marshall Islands, that decided to donate this past Lent’s offering to help Dixon) he not only was able to receive his spinal surgery, but he’ll also begin attending computer hardware and repair school tomorrow (Monday, 21 August). He should be completing the full course about the same time that his recovery from surgery is completing and he’ll be returning to Liberia.

While Dixon was in the hospital, the roof on the house in which he was staying collapsed. There was even enough money to have the roof repaired. (A man I know, Sackor, who has a significant hearing impairment, is also a mason. I went with him to have his hearing assessed, and afterwards the audiologist gave him a hearing aid to use while the results of his assessment were explained to him. The look on his face when the hearing aid was turned on is one of those things that make being here so worthwhile. Sheer joy, amazement and disbelief does not come close to even adequately describing it. One of his questions was – “you mean, if I have one of these then when I’m in bed with my wife at night she won’t need to shout in my ear to talk with me?” He just wants some intimate moments to actually be intimate – and not to be shared with all their neighbors. Anyway – Sackor volunteered his time and skills to help fix Dixon’s house.

Sackor begins repairs to the roof Dixon's house Now, he’s rebuilding a collapsing wall on the house of this sweet little girl, Princess, who has cerebral palsy – also with no charge for workmanship. We’re hoping to come up with the money for his hearing aids, and he is doing the work as an advance payment - in exchange for the hearing aids we believe will come. Faith – that’s what we operate on. Back to Dixon . . .) So, the workmanship was donated, and some of the roofing sheets and wood were salvageable, and Sackor was able to keep the rest of the costs for replacement supplies as low as possible.

Dixon,inside his roofless kitchen

Another side-note – speaking of operating on Faith – that’s how Dixon came about, too. The doctor quoted the amount for his surgery, and we went ahead and scheduled it some months down the road. We had no idea where to get the money from, but we just moved ahead. Several weeks before the surgery, Liliane Fond approved about half the cost of the surgery. We continued to move ahead. Then days, literally days, before the scheduled surgery (the first time for which it was scheduled) I heard from my aunt, telling me about the donation her congregation was able to make. Crazy how that works. We’ll do the same with Sackor – I have enough for one hearing aid now – we’ll go ahead and order them, I think. And we’ll just go on Faith that by the time the pair arrives we’ll have the other half. It’ll work out.

A week after Adjuah gave birth, 18 of us squeezed into the truck to go visit her and the baby. We took along some bread, a ½ sac of rice, and some pure water (it was a tight squeeze). She looked good, the baby looked good – everything seemed fine. Except - - - when Jerrydine (also known as Pinky – one of the school’s teachers) asked if Adjuah and the baby had been to the clinic for a check-up and also to start vaccinations, Adjuah’s mother said “no” and that people in villages don’t believe in vaccinations and don’t do that. Also, Adjuah called a couple of us aside and told us that she didn’t like it there – that they talked about her and weren't nice to her.
Pinky is standing on the far right

So, what could we do? How much could we push it? How far could we go, knowing that we need to rely on the family to care for and help Adjuah at this time? We discussed the importance of vaccinations and encouraged it, but we can’t force it. We talked about patience and understanding, but can’t control that.

The next night, around 8:00 p.m., I received a call from Pinky. Adjuah had just shown up at Pinky’s house, she had been beaten, she was upset, and she was talking of her baby having been “chunked” down onto the ground and blood coming from the baby’s nose. Pinky was able to call the family and 2 of them were going to come help Adjuah to go back home. While talking with Pinky we decided it would be much better for us to take Adjuah back, sit and talk with the family, and assess the situation.

Adjuah had never been to school until about 2 ½ years ago. She was around 17 or 18 when she began attending school (the school for the deaf where I am at). Prior to that (and since) it seems as though her family has never made any effort to communicate with her. A lot of times deaf people in villages develop a kind of “home-made” signing system – not “official” sign language, but practical and communicative at a basic level. It doesn’t seem this ever happened effectively for Adjuah and her family. And this has led to many misunderstandings, frustration, confusion, anger – you name it – for both sides.

This was the situation on the morning she ran away. Her mother decided to share the bread we had brought with the others in the family, reasoning that they had all been awake the entire night that Adjuah was giving birth, so they should benefit or have some compensation for that time. Adjuah didn’t understand what was going on and didn’t agree to it – she knew the bread was intended for her and her health. She became upset and angry. The family didn’t like her anger and couldn’t understand it and became upset and angry. Adjuah took the baby and was leaving. One of her brother’s went after her and started to beat her with a stick. Adjuah roughly put the baby down and chased after the brother – then left – then finally showed up at Pinky’s house that night.

It’s hard. Adjuah needs to stay with the baby. She needs supervision and assistance. But the environment (her family’s) where she can and should get this is not at all supportive or understanding of her and her hearing problem. When someone is with Adjuah who just sits and talks with her, looks her in the eyes – whether verbally talking or signing – she can’t hear and understand the verbal communication and doesn’t necessarily understand all the signs – but she focuses, she calms down. And she understands the important part – that someone is trying to communicate with her, someone is talking to her and treating her like a human being, that someone is showing her respect. Her understanding of those feelings and attitudes of love and concern being shown is clear from the look in her eyes and from the calm that comes over her.

Pinky was very good in talking with Adjuah’s family and with Adjuah – encouraging both sides to be calm, understanding, and patient. She tried to help the family understand Adjuah’s feelings of frustration and tried to advise the family on how to help minimize those reactions from Adjuah by how they behave and interact with her. She also advised Adjuah to be patient, for the baby’s sake (the baby had a cut on its head, but seemed fine otherwise), with her family when they do those things. And, of course, how wrong it was to beat Adjuah was discussed. I think Pinky did well – she showed the family she understood how hard it was (Pinky has a couple of our other deaf students living with her) but she also let them know how wrong some of what they were doing was.

A couple of days after we took Adjuah back to her family’s, another missionary I work with, Johanna, who’s not involved with the school yet knows some of the students and has become close to Adjuah, went to visit her. Johanna was able to be a little more forceful with the family and got them to agree to allow Adjuah and the baby to go to the clinic for a check up and vaccinations.

It’s hard for Adjuah to be around people who can’t/won’t communicate with her. But, she’s agreed to stay for at least 3 months so they can help her out with the baby during that time. After those 3 months, we’ll see what comes next.