God is great. He seems to be
revealing his grace and beauty to me more and more. I have been so aware of the
magnificent sunsets, the soft human touches and the smell of good wine and good
company. I seem to feel more and more blessed the longer I stay here. God also
allowed me to really experience His love this month as my boyfriend of 3 and a
half years proposed to me on top of my beloved water tower right here in
Manguzi! Surprise doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt, but it was such an
amazing reminder that God is holding me in His hands and has a purposeful and
joyful future prepared for me. To my now beloved fiancé, this song is for you!
No matter where you are, I’ll be there.
Moving on to my reflections as a maturing OT, this month has
reminded me of a number of hard truths I’ve had to learn over the last few
years as my understanding of the Christian OT role has developed:
1) I can't save the world (as much as my heart has always wished I
would).
2) If I take the crisis out of any situation, I always find a far more
rational and empowering solution than what I would have initially expected.
3) I need to pick my battles.
I learnt the first two truths early on in my university journey - and
experienced much anguish (closely followed by overwhelming relief) as a result
of coming to understand them. The third one has become more and more apparent
as my time in Manguzi has come along. There are times when I need to let the
hardships I face each day pass me by without becoming involved or overwhelming
by them. There are patients who I have treated on a superficial level and
allowed to walk out the department despite the unhealed wounds they hold on the
inside. While this is never an easy choice, I have learnt that in order to save
myself for further service down the line, there needs to actually be a line. While God often calls me to go
beyond the role of a mere occupational therapist, there are also times when I
have had to step away, to let go of a situation and give it to God.
While out on one of the clinics I attend on a monthly basis, I came face
to face with the reminder that I need to pick my battles. Sometimes someone
else’s hardship is not for me to solve. And that is unbelievably refreshing.
The extract below provides insight to my thought processes that occurred soon
after an incident at the clinic this month.
Today I was defeated by bureaucracy.
My tears fall hard and hot from my face as we travel away from the clinic we
had been working at all day. The bumpy sand road brings out the worst of the
already rickety old yellow minibus taxi as we travelled through clouds of heat,
petrol and dust back to our base at the hospital. The more I think about it the
harder my tears fell as my frustration within the situation overwhelms me.
Thankfully my sniffing is drowned out by the laughter of the other health
professionals in the bus as they chat away, relieved to see the end of the long
clinic day.
The bus driver, along with the rest
of the passengers in the bus, appears unfazed by the incident that had just
occurred. They have most likely become numb to the injustices of this place. Or
maybe this isn’t their battle to fight. Maybe it isn’t mine either. I wonder whether
they would still appear so unperturbed if it was their relative lying on the
bed rather than a faceless stranger.
The clinic is situated over an hour’s
drive from the hospital and involves navigating a tricky sand road along the
way. As I was packing up my last therapy devices, I noticed two patients lying
on nearby beds with drips in their arms. They had been waiting for an ambulance
to take them to hospital all day. But the sun was soon to set and the ambulance
was nowhere to be found. Naively I thought that we could just squeeze the two
patients in the minibus with us on the way back to the hospital. The nurse in
the opposite room was relieved by my offer as I could see she was worried about
the clear lack of emergency services.
But little did I know that taking
patients in hospital cars is clearly not allowed. A simple, but undoubtedly
firm "no" from the bus driver left me confused and frustrated. His
explanation of "is not in my mandate" or something similar, left me
oddly stunned as this was not the first time this week that I had
encountered similar sentiments by other people working within the hospital
context. I told him I will make some calls to his superiors and others in
positions of power but he seemed unperturbed by my threats. Clearly this
was a rule and not one I was going to get around today. I returned to the eagerly
waiting nurse inside the clinic. I apologised and explained the situation as
angry tears filled my eyes. She comforted me sympathetically and explained that
she'd had similar situations in the past. “We will just have to pray that an
ambulance arrives before the patients’ conditions become critical”. Her gentle
words only added fuel to the raging fire within me and despite my valiant
efforts to control my emotions, the tears spilled down my hot face in front
of a room full of patients still waiting to be seen by the local clinic nurse.
I had been defeated. And everyone seemed okay with it. Why was the bus driver
so unashamedly stubborn about this? Why did the nurse's sympathetic words sound
so knowing? Why the hell was I crying?
I guess in the back of my mind all I
could think about was the oath I took as I completed university last year: an oath
to serve people who needed me, to fight for justice and beneficence. Everything
I promised seemed to be slipping through my hands. The weight of accessible
health care rested heavily on my shoulders as I climbed wearily into the bus.
Maybe I should've done more. Maybe I should have fought harder in the moment. I
found myself questioning how these situations still occurred after 20 years of democracy.
The disappearing clinic seemed trapped in its rural impoverished world, unaware
of the riches and wealth of the politicians it voted into power. Why were the
people so supportive of a party who did nothing to assist their current
situation and appeared callus to their basic needs? Some days this place all
makes sense to me. But today is not one of those days.
In hindsight, the hospital’s policy
is an understandable one and is underpinned by the need to keep the hospital
out of tricky situations which could hinder its overall functioning and desire
to help and heal. I also noticed an ambulance travelling slowly towards the
clinic on my way back to the hospital (the bus driver was all too happy to
point it out to me as if to remind me not to mess with a system I did not
understand.) I guess all is not lost and the fact that there is so much to
improve on means that I get the opportunity to be a part of a struggle far
bigger than my own. This place and its people have stolen my heart and
that, undeniably, is worth fighting for.
This theme of “picking my battles” was further confirmed this month by a
lesson I learnt from my Bible Study group. Over the last few weeks in Bible
study, we have focused on reading a chapter a week of the first book of
Timothy. This has been an enlightening time for me as I was forced to get into
God's word and apply it to my current context.
One of the many revelations I had regarded the role of family when
caring for a old, sick or needy family member. 1 Timothy 5:3-4 reminds me that
while the church and fellow Christians should be helping those in need, it is
the role of a person's family to support and care for them prior to the person
becoming the responsibility of the church. As a Christian working within this context,
I have often found myself urged to go beyond the bounds of my job to assist a
patient in need, to work hard at uplift the plight of the suffering and to be a
light in an often difficult context. While this is often needed and even
expected of us as Christians, there are times when we need to step back and
allow a person's family to take their rightful place as carers for their aging
gogos and mkhulus.
The "bleeding heart" Christians, as my mum likes to call them,
can actually do more harm than good. Their generous efforts to rectify what
appears to them as a crisis situation often creates a sense of dependence to
those in need. As an OT, I have learnt that the core of my profession is focused on enhancing, enabling and empowering people to reach their potential.
Giving, doing and immobilising people in their own weakness is no way to ensure this. Sometimes I need to pick my battles and consider the way that I help someone before getting involved.
July Memories:
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| Engaged to the love of my life! |
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| A fantastic visit from two old friends from Westville. Thanks for visiting Megz and Kim! |
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| Fun times climbing the water tower for sundowners. |
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| The arrival of Bernie and Giles, two med students from UCT, called for a trip to Swaziland and hanging out in trees. |
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| What a beautiful little country we have found nestled within out borders! |
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| Mozambique & post-engagement adventures...what a fantastic group of people! |
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| The opening of the new female ward at the hospital caused for great celebration (and photo-taking!) |
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| Two thumbs up for the new ward! |
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| Teaching a young caregiver how to push her Gogo through sandy areas to prepare them for their home context |
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| A 4 month old baby in gallows traction to help the healing process of a broken femur |
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| A creative mkhulu who used a high chair leg covered in colourful 2litre wrappers as a walking stick |
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| Making a standing frame for a CP child out of boxes and glue |
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| Fun in the department when one of my stroke patients decided she was too cold for rehab |
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| Me and Mama Buthelezi, my first and favourite stroke patient! |
