Football as Unifier

On Sunday, we attended yet another football match. The crowds were greater in number this time around as the football on offer was far more attractive than our previous outing to the Stade Cotonou II. Benin was playing Ghana (The Squirrels vs. the Black Stars). There was also a lot riding on this match for Benin as a loss would almost certainly derail their hopes for a spot in the African Cup of Nations.

Getting into the stadium was an experience in itself. Our previous visit taught us that more tickets get sold than there is room in the stadium, so we made sure to arrive early. Not early enough, it seemed. We joined one of several queues leading to our gate of choice and stood praying for about an hour. Every now and then, the gate would open, everyone would instantly push to get in, the guards would get angry, assault a few people, and then slam the doors shut again; as if to punish us. But we remained hopeful and slowly inched towards the threshold.


About fifteen minutes before the kick-off, and after the doors had remained shut for a relative eternity, four muscly guards ambled up, their shiny batons proudly displayed. "At last," I thought, "these men will bring order to the chaos." And that they did. Two of them immediately started swinging violently. People scattered. We remained awkwardly squashed together amid the turmoil. Once things had settled, we discovered that the guards had created something that many would call a rarity in Africa: an orderly line of people. Fortunately, we found ourselves in the line, while the masses that surrounded us a few brief seconds ago were seething at the back of it.

But then the next problem presented itself. The doors were locked from the inside and the guards - who I now admired and respected - could not manage to convince their colleagues on the other side that order had been restored. The tension was mounting. With the kick-off approaching, the civility wouldn't last much longer.

Finally, the iron clanged and a guard peeked out from behind the barrier. The other guards shouted at everyone in French to be calm and proceed single file. We held our tickets in the air and squashed through into the brink of football delight; the past behind us and instantly forgotten.


We found seats with ease. Our vantage point was brilliant; offering a clear view of the length of the field, just off centre of the half-way line. Prayers were answered. We proceeded to enjoy 90-minutes of a goalless match, the highlight for me being the sublime yet subdued performance of Chelsea midfileder Michael Essien.

But then, in the dying seconds of extra-time, when we thought all was over, Benin somehow managed to scramble the ball into the back of the Ghana net. Rapture! Applause! Screaming! Whistling! Water! Loud noises! The eruption was profound. The final whistle was blown, the Benin players ran a victory lap, and the fans surrounding us insisted on getting photos of us celebrating.



Seeing that the precious minutes of athleticism and ball-control had been spent, the value of the interior was now broke and everyone wanted to get outside to celebrate in the streets. This happened quickly and peacefully, of course.

The drive home was memorable. I held the Benin flag aloft out the window as we passed hundreds of jubilant, celebrating Beninese citizens. Sport has the amazing ability to unify any and all people, provided the circumstance is victory. We sped through the streets cheering and whistling as every person we passed replied in like fashion.

You might question my pride for a nation that is not my own. Well, after nine-months, this country has, in a sense, become my home. Benin has given me only fond memories. Having invested so much time and energy into building relationships with a few once-suffering individuals, I feel I have the right to support this peaceful country; a country that my own South Africa could learn many lessons from.


Oooooh. Video.

Waiting

Celebration


Driving

Emmanuel

This story occurred a few months ago but it's still relevant. Emmanuel traveled from Nigeria and is only the second patient I've interviewed this year that can speak English. Being able to communicate with him without the necessity of a translator and hearing his story in his own words proved to be key in forming a friendship.

It's the first time I've managed to make a connection with a patient. When he was still on the ward I would spend time sitting on the side of his bed listening to him talk. It seemed important to him to be able to share, and he enjoyed telling his story.

The week after his surgery he became slightly depressed because, due to swelling, he could see little change in the shape of his face. But the following week, once he was discharged from the ward, he was a different man, full of smiles and laughter.

Emmanuel - a Man Rejuvenated

Nearly ten years ago, Emmanuel, a Nigerian-born father of two, went to a hospital with severe pain in his lower left molars. A tooth was removed, but the pain persisted. A check-up revealed no visible problems. After a brief teeth-cleaning and some pain medication, Emmanuel was sent home.

Then, in 2004, Emmanuel returned to the hospital. Constant pain and a noticeable swelling of his jaw were strong indications that more than just a tooth cavity was to blame. A surgeon attempted an exploratory operation to discover the cause; however, no abnormalities were found. A bewildered Emmanuel returned home to explain the confusing situation to his concerned wife.

Four years later, it was obvious that Emmanuel had a growth in his jaw. The severe protrusion on the side of his face made it difficult for him to get regular work as a mechanic. “People do not want to hire a man that looks sick,” he said. The tumor caused him to flinch with pain whenever he exerted himself. The once active man now found himself on the couch of his living room most days. He sadly said, “I used to like playing soccer. I liked to work in the gym and build my muscles. But when the sickness started, I lost my happiness and my strength. I did not even want to watch soccer on the TV. Now my arms are thin, and my legs are weak.”

Emmanuel had a friend with a vague medical background who came to him and convincingly offered to perform surgery to remove the growth. Desperate for relief, Emmanuel agreed to the risky attempt.

Unfortunately, the friend was not able to remove any of the tumor and caused more damage by aggravating the growth and leaving Emmanuel with a mass of scar tissue on his jaw line. Emmanuel’s condition worsened, and his hope and happiness were further diminished.

Though he was fortunate enough to have some financial support from his parents and his wife’s hairdressing business, Emmanuel still tried to make some money to feed his children. He regularly travelled to Cotonou, Benin, to buy goods with the intention of selling them at a profit in Nigeria.

While walking through the market one day, he had a strange feeling that someone was following him. He noticed a woman who kept looking at him with a concerned look. Eventually he confronted her. She spoke in French. The English-speaking Emmanuel did not understand. “I had a feeling that she was trying to tell me something important. She kept pointing to my tumor,” he said. Emmanuel shouted out for someone to translate for him. A young girl came along and began explaining what the woman was saying.

The woman’s name was Veronique, and her younger brother Odilon once had a growth in the same place as Emmanuel’s tumor. Thanks to an organization called Mercy Ships, Odilon received a free surgery that had removed the tumor. She explained that the ship was docked in the port, not far from where they were. She said that the people onboard would be able to fix Emmanuel, give him food, and not even ask for money. “When I heard these things, I was very happy,” Emmanuel said. “My heart was beating fast. I prayed to God, ‘If this is possible, then let it happen.’”

Veronique could certainly relate to the turmoil Emmanuel was experiencing after seeing her own brother suffer with the same condition for years. She proceeded to leave her selling goods with another vendor and told Emmanuel to follow her to the ship.

Emmanuel arrived at the ship, baffled by this sudden answer to prayer. “When I walked onboard, it seemed like everyone was happy to see a patient like me,” he recalled. “They took some tests and told me to return in a few weeks for my operation. But then I was scared that the ship was going to leave.” However, when Emmanuel returned for his surgery, the Africa Mercy was still there, and he was admitted to the onboard hospital. The following day, he underwent an eight-hour surgery to remove the growth from his jaw. “When I woke up, they told me how long it took. I was glad when I heard this because it made me realize that they took care to do a good job.”

Due to the work done to his jaw, Emmanuel was unable to chew. To avoid the risk of infection, a feeding tube going directly to his stomach was inserted into his nose. But despite the discomfort, Emmanuel’s spirits were uplifted, and he spoke like a man rejuvenated. “Now that the tumor is gone, I have my happiness again. Praise God!” he exclaimed. “Before, I felt separated from people, but now I see myself as a normal somebody. I phoned my wife and my parents and told them about my operation. They shouted through the telephone, ‘Praise God!’ They were very happy to hear the news.”

For the first time in nearly a decade, Emmanuel is feeling positive about the future. “When I go back to Nigeria, I am planning a lot of what to do because I am a new man now. I believe in God. He knows my heart and what I think, and He knows what is good for me so that my heart is filled with joy,” concluded Emmanuel.

The mercy shown by Veronique in the market and the free surgery provided by Mercy Ships have completely transformed Emmanuel’s life. He is now a walking testimony of the hope and healing Mercy Ships endeavors to bring.

Man With a Movie Camera

My ID card says Writer, but it should actually say Writer & Videographer (that is a real word). I am glad that I have the opportunity to make use of the abilities I gained in film school. Apart from filming notable Mercy Ships events, I also film the occasional patient story and news report, most of which I also edit. Doing this job has given me valuable experience which will hopefully provide avenues to similar jobs farther afield.

Fire-drills

Every second Thursday we practice fire-drills to prepare us for potential disasters. I have been on the Emergency Medical Team for a few months now. Not sure how I managed to accomplish that. I'm a stretcher-bearer. I'm guessing it's because I'm fit and healthy.

Some weeks are boring and we are not called to attend to any (fake) victims, but other weeks they put a lot of effort into making the situation as believable as possible - like the time in these photos. On another occasion, we had to carry a fully grown man up several narrow, winding flights of stairs from the engine room to deck 3. Quite a workout.

Today I finished a training course in Crowd Control. I now have a certificate that certifies that I can control crowds and keep order. Hmmm. As we approach the sail in December, our drills are going to become more intense and unpredictable. Words have been mentioned that suggest we may even have one at 4AM. As fun as they are, I pray I'll never be called to deal with a real emergency situation.

Claude's Surgery

I'm busy working on a video patient story about a man named Claude. Five-years-ago, a tumour began developing on Claude's jawbone. Today I watched as a surgeon skillfully removed it. Because the tumour was growing in the bone, the entire jaw had to be removed. Fortunately, Claude recieved a shiny, new titanium plate which will function as his jaw until he recieves a bone graft next field-service in Togo.

Having interviewed Claude in his home last week, and visited his carpentry workplace, I've developed a notable concern for his future and well-being. He's more than just a story. Watching him waking up from his anaesthetic, gagging on the breathing tube in his throat, was unsettling. So too, having his jaw placed in front of me to examine. I stared at the bone, the straight teeth, and the growth that had desecrated all of it, wondering how and why.

I thought I was going to be squeamish due to the blood and the severity of it all, but I managed to hold strong. In fact, one of the nurses next to me had to sit down because she felt queazy. Ha!

I pray Claude has a swift recovery. It will take getting used to, I'm sure. But in the long run, he's going to feel healthier, stronger, and ultimately, happier. And I shall hopefully be able to document his entire recovery process, in HD!

Benin vs. Mali

This past weekend we attended a World Cup Qualifier between Benin and Mali. After paying $10 for the most expensive tickets available, we thought we would have comfortable seats and a great view of the game. However, once we finally found our gate, the doors were blocked by security guards who were keeping protesting fans at bay. I immediately assumed that they had overbooked the venue and there was no more space. Things got ugly and a few opinionated fans received a beating from the guards.

Soon the same thing was happening at one of the cheaper gates. I thought it best for us to get inside as soon as possible, else we'd probably miss the match. We swiftly moved to the other side of the stadium and slipped into a $2 ticket gate. It was a bit frustrating to not get what we paid for, but the seats we found were fine. In fact, I think we ended up having a better experience because we seemed to be surrounded by the 'real' fans. And now we know that $2 tickets will be just fine for the next game against Ghana in October.


The match itself was spectacular. All kitted out in our newly acquired Benin shirts, we cheered for 'The Squirrels' (as they're known) with as much vigour as the locals. Mali went ahead in the 2nd half. The stadium dropped a few decibels in volume. Water bottles and other objects began to descend upon the Mali fans. But then Benin came back with a cracker in the dying minutes. In an instant the entire mood changed. Leaving fans came rushing back in. Everyone was ecstatic.

Having missed out on the Confederations Cup back home, it was great to attend a live match here. It kinda completes my West African experience. Benin will have to win the next match against Ghana to stand any chance of qualifying for 2010. It should be a cracking game.

Belinda and Her Family

This is Belinda, her husband Kitiso, and three of their four children. They were one of the many families that fled from Togo to Benin to escape military assault. I spent a lot of time walking and talking with Belinda. She used to be an English teacher, thus we had no problems communicating.

Belinda told me how they ran from their house in the dead of night when they heard soldiers approaching, how it was difficult because her husband has a crippled leg and her baby was screaming. She told me how they are always hungry in the camp and how the Benin locals have no respect for them. "We are all willing to work, but there is no work," she said.

She kept politely asking whether I could sponsor her family and help them relocate to another country. She had heard wondrous stories about refugees that were flown to Australia, Canada, and the USA, and given a house, food, clothing, and jobs. Some of what she had heard is true, but only in extreme cases. If she only knew of the cultural differences and the subsequent hardships thereof, she would have probably avoided the topic.

After visiting her house and examining the shoes her husband makes but struggles to sell, we exchanged emails. Before I left, she took my hand, looked me in the eyes, and said, "Please don't forget us."

So now I write, remembering them all, wondering how I can help them. I truly wish I could. But my means are so limited; myself being one that needs help and support from others. And I think, if anyone met this kind, polite, suffering family they would want to help them, surely? But they are one of thousands of families in that camp, all with similar stories of struggle. Where, when and how does it end?

Oh, Africa, my Africa.
Your hands are so rough, your belly grumbles so loudly.
You suffer so greatly, you rage so violently, and weep so deeply.
But your beauty remains burning brightly.
So too, my hope for your future grows daily.

Belinda and Kitiso

Kitiso makes shoes. The people in the camp have no money to buy shoes. The people outside the camp refuse to buy from him because he is a refugee.