crap day
before today i thought that there was no adrenaline rush greater than hearing margret calling me on the radio in the middle of the night (note: margret is incapable of calling me on the radio without screeching my name frantically and at the top of her lungs, regardless of how minor the issue may be. it is a voice that i will hear in my nightmares for decades to come)(second note: don't get me wrong- i love margret. i have come to find her insanity quite endearing). this, of course, is only because i sleep with earplugs and i manage to not hear the shootings and the bombs that have been happening at night lately. thankfully. this morning i had an adrenaline rush that i'm pretty sure just upped my degree of post traumatic stress about a millionfold. i heard carmenza get called on the radio early in the morning. i thanked God that they weren't calling me and started to go back to sleep. shortly afterwards i heard gustavo call carmenza to ask if she was ok, which i found odd. she assured him that she was ok and i chalked it up to gustavo being groggy and confused which is a typical gustavo state between midnight and noon. when we got up for breakfast they told me that there had been 3 bouts of shooting this morning and it had been really close. one of the bouts had been as carmenza was on her way to the hospital. this obviously puts you a bit on edge. corinne and i headed to the hospital as per our usual morning routine. i got out of the front seat and started towards the WHC. as i was walking towards my staff i saw a huge truck pull up on the other side of the hospital, full of soldiers. this put me even more on edge and i paused. then they started shooting and i think my heart almost exploded. i heard screams and saw my staff turn and run- making it the absolute most terrifying moment of my life. i turned to run back to the car to crawl underneath it. corinne was jumping back into the back of the car. my driver was yelling "mafi mushkila! mafi mushkila!" which means that there is no problem. corinne and i stop for a second and look at him, confused, because when someone is shooting at you there is DEFINITELY a problem and he explains that it is just returning soldiers who are shooting in the air to announce their arrival. fantastic. this village is already a bundle of nerves and you think it's cool to start shooting into the air and scaring the shiite out of everyone?
i get back to the women's centre and find that "h" has been desperately trying to find me. she tells me that a masalite woman had been sitting in the market, selling her things, beside a nomad woman with her baby. the baby had crawled towards the masalite woman who had taken her into her arms and held her. the baby was thirsty so the masalite woman took what she thought was water from beside her and gave it to the baby to drink. what the woman didn't know was that her daughter had bought diesel and put it in that container. the baby became violently ill and the nomads surrounded the woman and started to accuse her of doing it on purpose. once in the hospital they told our staff that she was not to leave until they found out how the baby was, because if the baby died they would kill her. when they started to physically attack the woman, "h" and "m" protected her, with "h" taking some of the beating. they also told "h", who had the good fortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that if the baby died it would be her fault for not providing good care and they would kill her as well. they then announced that they were going to get their men. "h" came flying back to the women's centre to find me and when i heard the story i radioed gustavo. he arrived and convinced both parties to go with him to the police station to sort things out. thank GOD he is a master mediator. these kinds of situations can easily lead to the loss of lives, if not tribal wars. no joke.
i got home after work to discover that two more packages had arrived from my family. i tear them open and then laugh for about ten minutes. amidst all of my treats are 5 small bottles of bailey's. i set it aside for a night when we will need it- whenever that may be. turns out that night is tonight.
(i've deleted this paragraph so you may not understand the rest of this email. sorry)
carmenza, corinne and i were just sitting in the livingroom talking about the "what ifs". we were completely stressed out so i got up, heated up the remaining milk, poured it into 5 small mugs and added bailey's to each one (one for andi and gustavo too). we sat outside, drank it and had to restrain ourselves from licking out the bottles. carmenza keeps telling me how much she loves my mother. by the time we had finished it we were completely tipsy and starting to make jokes about the situation (disturbed jokes- black humour- but jokes nonetheless). we decide that if we wake up (haha, as IF any of us are going to be able to sleep tonight) to find that we are leaving immediately, we are going to eat M&M's and drink bailey's for breakfast.
and the personal aspect.... now i don't even know what i want to happen- i'm so torn. i want them to come in, to give the people i love a fighting chance at a future, but i do NOT want the ngo's to leave. it is the ngo's who are helping to keep them alive with food, water, supplies and medical care. i love our staff so much that it hurts. the thought of us leaving them behind to whatever fate awaits them is TEARING ME UP INSIDE. i want them to be safe. i want them to be secure. i want them to have food to eat and to feed to their children. i want them to have medical care. i want them to be treated mercifully. i want them to live through this and see an end to it. i want them to know, and raise their children in, a darfur of peace.
(sorry, deleted this paragraph too)
so what do i do? a month ago i would have absolutely rejoiced to hear that we were leaving and leapt on the next plane. i could have gone home with no shame- it would have been out of my hands. i hated it here with a passion and i was done. now things are different. i have found my purpose in being here. last night i started to try to clean up my email inbox and i was reading old emails. i found one that i sent to my Christian friends a few weeks ago with specific prayer requests. while none of the one's for darfur seem to have been answered ALL of my personal requests were answered. though grateful for all of them, one of them struck me the most. i had asked for prayer for "the ability to truly BE here, not to feel like i'm just trying to survive until i can get out of here". and that is completely what has happened. in training leimona, aicha and houda, i have come to truly be here. rather than dreading them, i look forward to births now (middle of the night or not). rather than hating having to be at the women's centre doing consultations during the day, i love every moment that i am teaching these women something or watching them practice what they have learned. i am going to be able to leave habillah with a handful of women who are well trained in doing safe deliveries. i have trained, and am continuing to train, ten fantastic tba's in the basics and they have increased their knowledge in so many areas. they are so excited to come to the trainings and so proud of themselves for learning so much. when i have left other countries i have felt like my contribution to that place was done. i had been a temporary bandage on a hemorrhaging wound. when i left afghanistan i felt that all that i had been through there had been for nothing. now i feel like i've actually done something for the people here. in return, they have blessed me immeasurably with their love and their lives.
the problem? as much as i love my staff, i love my family more. i'm not afraid to die- especially if i had to lose my life trying to keep others safe- especially if i felt that God told me to stay. i am a Christian and i know, without a doubt, where i am going. and frankly, after experiences like this, Heaven is a really tempting thought. is there really a place where every day doesn't hurt? sign me up. that would be wonderful for me, but my life is not just about me- i have a family who loves me and how could i make them go through losing another child? the thought of suffering that loss again, even for a second, kills me. a year and a half later, the pain is still there and it always will be. how can i make a decision that might make them, the people dearest to my heart, get another phone call telling them that a loved one is lost to them? i couldn't do it. i can't do it.
maybe tomorrow morning i'll find out that the troops won't be deployed and this entire email will be irrelevant. maybe i'll wake up tomorrow morning and feel that God has told me to stay regardless of what happens. or maybe i'll wake up tomorrow morning and know that it's time to go home. at this point only time will tell.
ps i think i rambled a lot in this email. i haven't had a drink in a really, really long time and i'm definitely still tipsy. too bad there's nowhere to go dancing in this joint :)
i get back to the women's centre and find that "h" has been desperately trying to find me. she tells me that a masalite woman had been sitting in the market, selling her things, beside a nomad woman with her baby. the baby had crawled towards the masalite woman who had taken her into her arms and held her. the baby was thirsty so the masalite woman took what she thought was water from beside her and gave it to the baby to drink. what the woman didn't know was that her daughter had bought diesel and put it in that container. the baby became violently ill and the nomads surrounded the woman and started to accuse her of doing it on purpose. once in the hospital they told our staff that she was not to leave until they found out how the baby was, because if the baby died they would kill her. when they started to physically attack the woman, "h" and "m" protected her, with "h" taking some of the beating. they also told "h", who had the good fortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, that if the baby died it would be her fault for not providing good care and they would kill her as well. they then announced that they were going to get their men. "h" came flying back to the women's centre to find me and when i heard the story i radioed gustavo. he arrived and convinced both parties to go with him to the police station to sort things out. thank GOD he is a master mediator. these kinds of situations can easily lead to the loss of lives, if not tribal wars. no joke.
i got home after work to discover that two more packages had arrived from my family. i tear them open and then laugh for about ten minutes. amidst all of my treats are 5 small bottles of bailey's. i set it aside for a night when we will need it- whenever that may be. turns out that night is tonight.
(i've deleted this paragraph so you may not understand the rest of this email. sorry)
carmenza, corinne and i were just sitting in the livingroom talking about the "what ifs". we were completely stressed out so i got up, heated up the remaining milk, poured it into 5 small mugs and added bailey's to each one (one for andi and gustavo too). we sat outside, drank it and had to restrain ourselves from licking out the bottles. carmenza keeps telling me how much she loves my mother. by the time we had finished it we were completely tipsy and starting to make jokes about the situation (disturbed jokes- black humour- but jokes nonetheless). we decide that if we wake up (haha, as IF any of us are going to be able to sleep tonight) to find that we are leaving immediately, we are going to eat M&M's and drink bailey's for breakfast.
and the personal aspect.... now i don't even know what i want to happen- i'm so torn. i want them to come in, to give the people i love a fighting chance at a future, but i do NOT want the ngo's to leave. it is the ngo's who are helping to keep them alive with food, water, supplies and medical care. i love our staff so much that it hurts. the thought of us leaving them behind to whatever fate awaits them is TEARING ME UP INSIDE. i want them to be safe. i want them to be secure. i want them to have food to eat and to feed to their children. i want them to have medical care. i want them to be treated mercifully. i want them to live through this and see an end to it. i want them to know, and raise their children in, a darfur of peace.
(sorry, deleted this paragraph too)
so what do i do? a month ago i would have absolutely rejoiced to hear that we were leaving and leapt on the next plane. i could have gone home with no shame- it would have been out of my hands. i hated it here with a passion and i was done. now things are different. i have found my purpose in being here. last night i started to try to clean up my email inbox and i was reading old emails. i found one that i sent to my Christian friends a few weeks ago with specific prayer requests. while none of the one's for darfur seem to have been answered ALL of my personal requests were answered. though grateful for all of them, one of them struck me the most. i had asked for prayer for "the ability to truly BE here, not to feel like i'm just trying to survive until i can get out of here". and that is completely what has happened. in training leimona, aicha and houda, i have come to truly be here. rather than dreading them, i look forward to births now (middle of the night or not). rather than hating having to be at the women's centre doing consultations during the day, i love every moment that i am teaching these women something or watching them practice what they have learned. i am going to be able to leave habillah with a handful of women who are well trained in doing safe deliveries. i have trained, and am continuing to train, ten fantastic tba's in the basics and they have increased their knowledge in so many areas. they are so excited to come to the trainings and so proud of themselves for learning so much. when i have left other countries i have felt like my contribution to that place was done. i had been a temporary bandage on a hemorrhaging wound. when i left afghanistan i felt that all that i had been through there had been for nothing. now i feel like i've actually done something for the people here. in return, they have blessed me immeasurably with their love and their lives.
the problem? as much as i love my staff, i love my family more. i'm not afraid to die- especially if i had to lose my life trying to keep others safe- especially if i felt that God told me to stay. i am a Christian and i know, without a doubt, where i am going. and frankly, after experiences like this, Heaven is a really tempting thought. is there really a place where every day doesn't hurt? sign me up. that would be wonderful for me, but my life is not just about me- i have a family who loves me and how could i make them go through losing another child? the thought of suffering that loss again, even for a second, kills me. a year and a half later, the pain is still there and it always will be. how can i make a decision that might make them, the people dearest to my heart, get another phone call telling them that a loved one is lost to them? i couldn't do it. i can't do it.
maybe tomorrow morning i'll find out that the troops won't be deployed and this entire email will be irrelevant. maybe i'll wake up tomorrow morning and feel that God has told me to stay regardless of what happens. or maybe i'll wake up tomorrow morning and know that it's time to go home. at this point only time will tell.
ps i think i rambled a lot in this email. i haven't had a drink in a really, really long time and i'm definitely still tipsy. too bad there's nowhere to go dancing in this joint :)
posted by Amy Osborne | 6:58 PM
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