When the Sun Goes Down

In Lome’, Togo, West Africa along the grimy, gray unevenly cobblestoned seaport, the Africa Mercy sits, slowly lulling back and forth with the gentle tide. It’s after dark, the temperature has come down to a “chilly” 28 degrees Celsius. The ship has come to a peaceful silence, with only the hum of the generators from Deck 8 echoing off the empty dock.  If you chose, like many Mercy Shippers, to walk along the dock at this time of night, you’re bound to dodge gigantic cockroaches and even a  rat or two scurrying along the high wall of shipping containers, stacked two high, that surround and protect our little section of dock.

We’re lucky, in Lome’, to be docked in a bay, away from the tides and currents of the ocean, and thus only feel a slight listing of the ship as you move about.  Some may complain that on certain days they feel the rocking more intensely, but I assure them that it is nothing compared to our open-bay dock in Sierra Leone.  I smile to myself, seeing a little glimpse of the different seasons and “normalcy” of the Africa Mercy that I’m sure so many long-termers before me know all too well.

This night, I went up to deck 8 to attempt to capture some scenes from the sleeping ship. The city of lights, far off in the distant horizon represent ships awaiting safe harbor or simply taking the opportunity to rest in the waters off the coast of Lome’. From Deck 8, the bright lights from each ship glitter off the navy blue mirror in the distance.  Beautiful.

A strong, turbulent ocean breeze bursts its way across the ship; a welcome mosquito repellant. A few crew members sit or stand on the nearly empty deck as the rest of the ship sleeps. 

Silvery schools of fish glimmer in the turquoise water, lighted by the Africa Mercy. The Togolese Naval ships rest on the opposite end of the port, the bugle and soldiers all tucked away for the night.

And so the ship sleeps. With only night shift workers to keep the ship running, the hospital patients well cared for, and emergency stations manned, the rest of the night leaves an empty, welcome silence. In a place where calm and quiet is a commodity rarely found living with 400 other people, I often just stand, stare out to the open ocean and just be. Pray. Sing. Rest. 

Welcome to one snapshot of Africa Mercy peace.