One New Year's Eve in Africa

One New Year’s Eve in Africa

Here’s a story from our time in Guinea related to last month’s post, One Christmas in Africa. It happened several years before, but we experienced another delayed Christmas, which takes us to a memorable New Year’s Eve in Africa.

I had to fly to Senegal for meetings, leaving Michelle and our four kids in the village. Two of our girls (Rochelle and Janelle) had just gotten over malaria and Michelle was concerned they might relapse while I was out of country. We did talk about the next treatment of choice if the fevers returned, but prayed they wouldn’t. Just a few days into my trip, one of them got sick again.

It seems that each decade there are different leading causes of death in Africa. At the time of this story (1997-8) the three leading causes of death in Africa were malaria, AIDS, and vehicular accidents. When one of us got sick with malaria, it was no small thing. Yes, we had several treatment options, but there was always the nagging thought that people do die of malaria.

Michelle treated Janelle with a second malaria medicine and had a co-worker call the mission office in Dakar to get a message to me to come home ASAP. At the airport I learned that the airline workers were on strike and I would be delayed a day or two. It turned into three days. I finally arrived home to find Janelle had recovered but was sick again. No more guessing at treatment options this time—we went directly to the mining company hospital on the seacoast.

Poor four-year-old JJ was examined and poked for blood samples, for all kinds of tests. All results came out negative, but her fever kept rising. The doctor was concerned it might be toxoplasmosis, and treated her with strong antibiotics, intravenously. JJ’s hand swelled after two days, so the IV was moved into her other hand. After two more days, that hand swelled. Now she had to receive injections into her right thigh in the morning, and left thigh in the afternoon. (To this day she hates hospitals in general and needles in particular.)

I stayed with her at the hospital each night, until morning, and Michelle came after breakfast to spend part of the day with her. All this happened over Christmas break, so the three older children agreed it was right to delay our Christmas celebrations until JJ was well and back home.

Early in this trial Michelle told our daughter how sorry she was about her pain and suffering. “It’s okay, mom, God has a reason for it.” Michelle was moved to tears by this response from our almost five-year-old girl! She was just two months shy of turning five, and, interestingly, she was born in this very hospital in West Africa; the only one of our four children to be born in Africa.

One night her fever went up to 105.5 degrees, and there was no doctor around. I told a male nurse that she was shaking with chills and high fever. He told me to turn down the AC because it was too cold for her. Then he left. Not helpful. I already had a wash basin and wash cloth, so I returned to our nightly wash with cool water to help keep her fever down. It worked; the fever broke. It was day six and it was looking like the worst was over.

The doctor wanted her to be 48 hours with no fever, so we spent two more days there, December 28 and 29. We were able to walk around the children’s ward, and the suffering of the sick African children touched our hearts. On our last day Michelle came to give me a break and I went to the local market. We had the idea to give gifts to the other children in the ward, so I purchased tangerines and bonbons (candies.)

Later in the afternoon, Michelle went back to the village and Janelle and I walked around the ward giving gifts to the children and their families. (In some areas of the world each patient must have at least one relative attending them in their hospital room. Normally, you bring your own sheets and blankets, and a relative brings food each day at mealtimes.)

What a joy it was for JJ and me to bring happiness to those sick kids. When we got back to our room we prayed for those children, and prayed that it would be our last night there in the hospital. The next day we planned on heading back home to our village and to finally celebrate Christmas as a family.

We arrived home on December 30, which became our “Christmas Eve.” Our celebration began and the next day, technically New Year’s Eve day, became “Christmas” for us that year.

I believe I speak for all of us in saying that we thank God for that one New Year’s Eve in Africa. Through it we experienced what many African families go through during a hospital stay. It brought us closer together as a family. It is a Christmas we will never forget!

(The first picture below is of the open market. Can you spot the tangerines, grapefruit, or guavas? The second picture is a family photo we took later that year, when Janelle was five.)