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May 06, 2006
Mohasin
I walked into the courtyard of the Samaritan's Purse compound and knew something was up. Hassan, the senior nurse at the hospital, and a young Funyj boy were talking to our project manager. All the medical people including Beverly were listening with serious looks.
They were talking about a hospital nurse trainee who had left work and then come down sick. She is a fifteen-year-old named Mohasin (means 'beautiful' in Arabic). When she left, she had no fever but was not feeling well. Her brother came a few hours later to say she had a "very" high fever and needed to go to the hospital. The problem is she lives one hour's walk away.
Hassan felt this was a serious situation because she had spiked a fever so suddenly. He was willing to go and give her an injection and try to diagnose her illness. Beverly was looking at me. Some rapid non-verbal spousal communication ensued. Instantly I knew she was feeling we could help and probably should. Feeling the same way, I volunteered to take Hassan and the brother on an ATV to see Mohasin.
Some of you might remember Mohasin's village from an earlier email. That was where Pastor Paul and I got caught in a rain storm and had to leave our bikes and hike back in the mud. It's called Jerot, and this would be my fourth visit. I have a soft spot for Jerot for some reason because it's such an ignored little place but mainly because it's the historical capital of the Funyj nation and is thoroughly Muslim. They always have problems with water and water-borne illnesses because the one working borehole gives lousy water.
So I fired up our very loud but quite new Yamaha 450 ATV, donned a helmet, and we were off, the two guys riding on the rear. It's quite against the law in the US, but there are no laws here.
I went slowly at first out of respect for Hassan and the brother but soon realized they were strong and young and could hang on. I increased my pace thinking about how Mohasin might be really ill. Still, I was not really worried because she had walked 1 hour home around noon. How bad could she be?
She was bad. We found the hut by the ATV's headlamps, and inside Mohasin was flailing around on a rope bed. She was sweating terribly from a burning fever. Two or three people were required to keep her from flailing off the bed. Hassan went to work doing his assessment, asking questions of the family in his excellent Arabic while calling Mohasin's name over and over. Finally he gave her a shot which was a fever reducing/analgesic of some type. He said it would take about 30 minutes to work. Then he discovered her neck was stiff, and she would cry out in pain when her neck was manipulated. Her mother confirmed that she had "waja raghaba" (neck pain) as well as "waja dhar" (back pain).
Hassan explained with gravity that it was probably meningitis. He said we had to go and arrange a transport for her - before morning. I asked to pray for her, but the mom did not seem to understand my request in Arabic. Hassan translated and she agreed. Some of the others crowded around and listened as I prayed for her in English. You could tell that was new to them.
He gave final instructions to the family, and we started the ATV to go. I began to understand how serious this was so I swiveled in the seat and asked "Hassan, is she going to make it?" He said "Yes. If we can get transport back to the hospital."
I drove pretty fast. Safe but fast. We were back in Kurmuk in about 35 minutes. Dr Atar and all the medical staff concurred with the diagnosis. There had been meningitis outbreaks in Jerot before, especially during this time of year when the heat saps immune systems.
We went to arrange transport with an SPLA commander named Jundi (the meaning is apropos: "foot soldier"). Their new Land Cruiser pickup was in town. Hassan was a soldier still in active duty, so we bolted through silent dusty streets for Jundi's compound on the quad-bike. I knew the guard who came to the gate in answer to our "al salaam aleikum's". He greeted me with a big smile and a manly handshake. He even remembered my name because he used to watch the checkpoint on the outside of town, a lonely job. I could not remember his name, so I just called him "eskeri" (soldier).
Long story short, Jundi agreed to drive us himself because his driver had gone home. He is about 40 years old and has just learned to drive and is rightly proud of himself. They sent me off on the ATV and said they would pick me up at the SP compound.
Well, they never came. They just went straight to Jerot. Beverly and I sat in the total darkness waiting for them to come for an hour. Bev was really worried about her student Mohasin, so we prayed for her again. Finally, we gave up and Bev went off to bed. I found Dr Atar was still up, chatting with some others. He was waiting for the radio to call him to the hospital to see Mohasin when she arrived. So, we walked down to see if she was there.
She had arrived. The IV was started, and the valium was beginning to calm her down. Dr Atar worked for about 15 minutes and ordered her treatment. When we left, he was optimistic that her chances were good.
The next morning she was sleeping peacefully but was unresponsive. That afternoon, she was looking around but would not answer. The next day she came around and started talking. Today, two days later, I stopped by her bed, and she was flirting with the male nurses and pretending to study something even while hooked to an IV.
After her recovery, Beverly thinks it was probably Typhoid and the complications from it, not meningitis. The source of the disease is contaminated water.
As I sit here, I think about Jerot. Each of my four visits there has been very different. It's a place that does not know anything about the love of Jesus. We have tried to show them in some ways, but I struggle with questions. Did we do it right? Did they see His love in the way we behaved? Will she ever accept Christ?
I daydream about bringing another well to that place to prevent this illness from happening again. Maybe a ministry like blood:water or Living Water can fly in a drill rig and make water come out of the ground and do some concerts or outreaches to adorn the good news of Jesus. We can only pray and hope and try to be ready when the opportunities come.
The funny thing is that after visiting Mohasin three or four times and seeing her Mom on the street, none of them ever said thanks. Do you think they not feel thankful? Maybe they just feel it's the will of Allah that she's alive. It could just as easily have been the other way. I pray that she and her family could be grateful to Jesus since he died so she could live.
In Christ,
Chris and Beverly Crowder
Published at May 6, 2006 01:42 PM
