There She Was...

There she was. Sitting among the group of children adorned with a dark blue, red, and gold patterned dress; hair completely covered beneath her matching headwrap.
“Can you tell which one is your child?” Dora, my World Vision guide and translator, asked me. And as I stared into all of the faces of the children, fearful I somehow would not be able to recognize that face I had so often studied in the picture above my bed, I saw those eyes and that smile and knew it was her.


I don’t know how many of you are familiar with child sponsorship programs, but organizations such as World Vision and Compassion International (both Christian organizations) have monthly giving programs that go to support children living in impoverished areas of the World. Through your $30-40 per month, you provide a child with food, clothing, the ability to attend school, and the opportunity to hear the gospel.

Ever since high school, the idea of providing a child halfway across the world with the tools and foundations to support and enrich their lives in their communities touched my heart. I remember the first child I ever sponsored was with the help of 2 of my high school friends who, through the three of us, gave money each month to support her for over a year before having another person take over her sponsorship. The Lord had put this on my heart even more deeply after finishing university, but it wasn’t until this last July that I finally stepped out and obeyed that call on my heart. The picture above with my little Mattu is evidence of the amazing ramifications of obeying those quiet calls to our heart.

But it wasn’t the noisy, energy filled tribal Mende community welcome dance that impressed me and my dear Mercy Ships friend, Laura Coles, nor was it even the delightful childrens choir that sang to us from the village school. Instead, it was the sheer awe of what such a small amount of money can do for such a large community.


As I said before, our entire trip to visit the World Vision Bagbo site, took Laura and I to a village just outside of Bo, Sierra Leone (about a 3 ½ hour drive southeast of Freetown). After a night in a local hotel (complete with air conditioning, bucket showers, and exploding light bulbs), we were picked up by World Vision staff Dora, Sheku, and Joseph, who would be our drivers and escorts for the day. We made it to the village Kpangbalia over dusty, washed out village roads in about 2 ½ hours, where we were to meet Mattu and her family. As we drove along this road, sign after sign after sign passed by with “World Vision… Well…” or “World Vision Health Center”, or schools and latrines built by World Vision. Village after village had such signs. World Vision quite obviously had a footprint in the community, as was also evident by the friendly waves and yells of “Hello!” and “Opotu!” (“white person” in krio) as we drove by in the white World Vision landrover.


By the end of the afternoon, Laura and I had experienced the fully spectrum of the community tour of the maternal and child health clinic (photo on preivous page), newly constructed school with latrines, 3 wells, and community fish pond (for growing and building an economy within the village). As person after person and group after group stated, sang, or danced their appreciation of us “sponsors”, I felt increasingly overwhelmed. Who was I to claim ANY of this credit with my mere $35 a month sponsorship? I knew I was impacting the life of a child, but I had no idea the ramification of my small contribution. So many sponsors only dream of meeting their sponsor children. I had that dream plus the overwhelming joy of seeing how the small gifts of so many make SUCH a difference. My heart was not prepared to handle the impact this trip would make. So amazing. So amazing.


And, as an “icing on the cake”, so to speak, Laura and I also had the opportunity to find some of our little 8-plate orthopedic children and check up on them! SOOO amazing! We found all 5 of them who lived in Bo. Here we are with two of them and their little bandaged knees! (I am trying to tell Fatmata to smile with her teeth if you are wondering). SUCH a blessing! Oh my gosh! I was SO excited! I am hoping to be able to see them all when I return to Bo in July.



As far as ship life- the hospital continues to run a bit more smoothly each day, and I must say that I am becoming more and more comfortable in my charge nurse position. I still LOVE my patients and find time to play “Waka Waka” music for them to dance to. My dear friend and bunkmate, Laura, will be leaving all to soon, however, as she prepares to fly home the middle of May. My life we be a bit lonelier without her around, but I’ve been so thankful for our time and adventures together.


To close, I want to thank you all SO much for your support and prayers. Just like my experience in Bo, feeling overwhelmed by impact my investment made, I hope you all experience a little of that with each story you read and way you see patient’s lives changed each day. I am SO blessed by you! I don’t even have words. Two letters I received today from home just made my day. I truly could not do it without you- no matter how big or small your contribution. I covet your prayers not only for myself and the patients, but over the entrie ship and country of Sierra Leone. What an amazing opportunity to be used for something so much bigger than us.

Joy Comes with the Morning

I promised to write about my screening day experience. (Smile) It is funny to me that it seems like I blog a bit delayed from the actual date of the experiences. You’ll have to forgive the mark this processing time leaves in my communication. The following excerpts have been especially difficult to express. While so much of what Mercy Ships does is life-changing and life-bringing, there is always another side to that coin. Those we are not able to help and have to leave behind.

Screening Day

What a day of intense emotion. In fact, I cannot think of a similarly, polar-opposite experience of joy and deepest sorrow as I was a part of that day. Joy when, as I moved through the waiting line (queue) of people, I easily identified patients I knew we could help, sending them up through to the gate and into the old U.N. facility to be screened. My heart would leap for joy with every club foot, cleft lip, facial tumor, and bowed leg. “Yes!” I wanted to scream to them, thinking that it could somehow drown out the hundreds of feeble, heart-torn “no’s” that seemed to, in droves, preceded and succeeded every “yes”.


One woman, slender and middle-aged, with a red dress and matching red head wrap stood solemnly in line as I attempted to ask “What is the problem?” She stared blankly back at me as I turned behind me with a needful expression towards Jonathan, my translator, for help. Instead, a woman standing in line behind her prodded her with words I could not understand, and after a minute of interaction stated “She is from the provinces.” And, pointing to the moderate sized goiter present on the neck of the woman in the red dress, relayed, “She has had this (pointing to goiter) for over 15 years”.

Knowing full well that Mercy Ships had very limited (if any) general surgery slots for thyroidectomies (thyroid gland/goiter removals), we were only passing very large goiters through to the screeners. With as much gentleness as I could muster, I explained the situation to the woman behind, showing pictures of the large size of goiters we were looking for on an educational poster. This message was passed on rapidly to the woman in the red dress who, upon hearing the news, looked at me with eyes full of pain and disbelief. No longer was she solemn as she wept loudly before my eyes. She began crying out and speaking rapidly in her tribal language as she wept. As I watched this woman’s grief, I came to find out that she traveled all the way from the provinces (the cost which would have been a huge sum of money) 3 months ago when she heard the ship was coming. She had been living in Freetown these entire 3 months, waiting for us to arrive. She cried out “I have been stricken for 15 years, and now I must return to my village still with this? And not only that, but I have lost over 3 months of wages waiting!” I fought with every nerve in my body to hold my emotions together as I watched this woman weep. I placed my arm around her, and all I could say was “I am so sorry. I know- you have given so much to come. I am so sorry.”

Nothing prepares you for that. No amount of training or education. No number of hours of experience. All I can hold onto are the words which Dr. Gary Parker spoke the day of our first screening; “God has hope and a plan for every person who comes to screening. That plan, however may or may not be with Mercy Ships, but he does have a purpose for each one.” Perhaps it was just being treated as a human being, worthy of love. Having someone touch them, or look them in the face and treat them as a person. Whatever it might have been, I can only pray that God continues to hold those whose hope in Mercy Ships has been shattered.

While this screening day experience was heartbreaking in one hundred ways, in the hundreds of “no’s” I told expectant faces that day, another situation hit home even harder.


I’m sure you all remember my little friend “Christophe” (not his real name-pictured to the R) I mentioned in a previous post. He was one of our little long-term patients in the Ponseti casting program for his bilateral club feet. He and his father were familiar faces within B Ward and became endeared to my heart quite early on. His little 4-year old body was tiny enough to be the perfect size to pick up and carry around (despite with his thigh-high casts). This became a daily routine as I often worked charge nurse on B Ward, and soon I would hear “Anna!” and watch Christophe tummy-scoot/army crawl across the floor towards me, his casts dragging. Then, as soon as he would reach my desk, would look up expectantly and say “Anna, moosik”, or “Anna, balloon”. And I would pick him up, look over my shoulder and shoot a quick smile to his father, and give him a big bear hug before scrolling through my IPOD songs to find some music to plug into the ward speakers. You would have thought he was a bit of an 80’s rapper the way he would grab one of the little travel speakers and, holding directly up to his ear, would begin moving and dancing in my lap to the beat of the song. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before I started referring to him as “my boy” and made sure to at least visit daily if I wasn’t on B Ward that day working.

Well, last Tuesday I was scheduled for an evening shift, but was up early getting some needed things done prior to my shift. I happened to just stop by the ward that morning, and as I was just nearing D Ward, one of the nurses on duty caught me in the hall and said, “did you know Christophe is leaving?”


“WHAT?!” I responded in disbelief. “What do you mean?” The nurse went on to explain that little Christophe’s feet bones had fused together, making the Ponseti casting inadequate to treat his club feet.

“He needs surgery to have them break and re-set his bones, but if he has that surgery now, it will affect his growth, so they need to wait until he is at least 10 years old, so they’re sending him home.” As I fought back tears of disappointment, I saw Christophe and his father being escorted back to B Ward from our Physio room- his thin, bare brown legs now open to the outer air. They both had the most somber faces I had ever seen on either of them- I knew they understood what was happening. I followed them into the ward, picked up my bare legged boy after tickling him under the chin to get a little half smile, and, with a translator, told them both how sorry I was. His dad gave a slight smile, and then sat on his bed looking dejected. As I left the ward, I couldn’t hold it together any more… I walked faster and faster down the hall to my room knowing the waterfall of tears would begin at any moment. I just wept over that sweet little boy and his father. “God, WHY? I don’t understand!”

I still don’t understand, but, that evening, as I said my goodbyes to him and his father, we prayed over them-dedicating them into God’s hands. After we finished, Christophe turned to me and said (through a translator), “When I come back next time, I will see you!” That was it. I smiled and choked out “I pray that I will be”. The faith of even this small child. How much I need to learn from him.

”At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, ‘Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?’ He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said, ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.’ ”

~Matthew 18:1-5~

A Scattering of Random Thoughts...

Writer’s block. Isn’t that what they call it when you’re welling up inside with words, stories, and experiences, but unable to get them out and onto paper. I have had such a week full of joy, singing, heartache, pain, healing, teaching, blessing, and laughter that I don’t know where or how to begin. Perhaps the best way to relay some of my pent-up inner thoughts is to spew them out as randomly as they are continuing to flash through my mind.

I thought I would begin with a humorous collection of the quirks of Mercy Ships life that I've labeled, "You know you're a Mercy-Shipper if..."

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy experiencing it:

“You Know You’re a Mercy Shipper if…”


1) Your idea of a luxurious shower morphs into one where you can keep the water running for 5 whole minutes.
2) Flexibility is the theme word of every department at every given moment.
3) “Plan” or “timeframe” are relative words.
4) You startle from your dreams, thinking you’ve heard “This is a drill, this is a drill, this is a drill” being announced overhead.
5) You find that mechanical noises and engine hums lull you to sleep.
6) Breakfast is just not breakfast without your daily Nutella on a freshly baked croissant (Thank you Albert, our German baker!).
7) You are considered an “expert” if you claim you have done something “once or “twice” or make any reference to something being familiar.
8) If (as an American) you begin “queuing” in line to take your patients up the “lift” or take the “rubbish” out.
9) Figuring out a task is “easy” due to the simple fact that the instructions are in English.
10) You find yourself startled by silence.

And for all my nursing friends:

“You Might be a Mercy Ships Nurse if..”



1) Having pre-filled saline flushes makes you want to dance for joy (Otherwise- you draw up every single one from a bottle/bag of NS with your 10 ml syringe and 18g needle!).
2) “Infection Control” means keeping patients from sharing drinking glasses and bedpans. We’re shooting for the big goals, really! 
3) You find yourself learning 5 different words for the same supply or skill you thought you already knew the name for.
4) Music and dancing become a daily shift activity.
5) Giving report/handover often takes nurse to nurse cultural translation. (ex. “Obs” vs. “vital signs”, “bluies” vs. “chux”, “IV catheters” vs. “IV’s” etc).
6) Trips outside to play with your patients on tricycles or with games of Connect 4 are part of a regular “treatment” plan.
7) You begin forgetting the trade names of all the drugs you know, and begin calling all acetaminophen (Tylenol), “paracetamol”.
8) You are considered “experienced”, ready to help the “newbies” if you have been on the ward 2 weeks or more.
9) Your brain grimaces every time you try to make sense of your patient’s temperature in Celcius.
10) You find yourself planning twice the amount of time it takes to complete a task to leave room for the 2 or 3 part translation process.
11) You begin making hand gestures with every word you speak to your patients.
12) You know you are the walking blood bank for your patients and live on ship, ready to donate at any time.

Random Quotes/Revelations:

-White people’s hair is not as strong as African hair… I found out first-hand as some children attempted to braid/cornroll my hair at the Hope Center and I felt it breaking. I now have a number of 2 inch long pieces of hair at the top of my head… a lesson learned.
-My African friend, James So, (from Benin) commented one day: “Anna! I’ve been looking for you like an American Visa!”
-It never stops making me laugh when I hear patients say, “I need to piss" (the Krio word for urinating). Or, when you are asking a translator to teach the patient to swish and swallow their chlorihexidine mouthwash for mouth care after surgery, the say "take medicine and swishy swishy". Too funny.
-When a sweet little “Christophe” smile and giggle never gets old. And the request of “Anna- moosik!” (meaning he wants me to play my ipod).
-The amazing prayers I have heard the local Sierra Leonians pray… “Father- we appreciate you (when have I ever heard anyone pray like that). With you, nothing is impossible. Tenky, tenky (thank you, thank you in Krio). We give you all de glory.”
- “When I die, I want to be known as ‘de one who loved de pekins too much’”. (Pekins (peekins) is Krio for children). One of the mama’s of one of our patients was telling another woman that on Mercy Ships we “loved the pekins too much”. I think I can live with that.



Finally, on a more serious note, some reflections I've had recently...

Giving Thanks on the Ward.

“Patient surveys” have been a new addition to our admission and discharge forms for each patient admitted to the ward, and with them have come feedback from patients. While at home in America I was very used to seeing these types of feedback forms from the patients we cared for, I hadn’t ever seen the West-African version. As I read through the feedback messages from the patients, one after the other repeated essentially the same thing. “God/Jesus has done a wonderful thing for me through Mercy Ships.” Or “God has healed me. Thank you Mercy Ships.” As I read over them, I found myself feeling disappointed that no specific nurses or names of other healthcare providers were mentioned. Then, as if hit by a brick wall, I realized the source of my disappointment. It was the fact that we (as nurses) were not praised or thanked as I was very used to in my Western-culture, customer-satisfaction centered, American hospital. Instead, people were praising and thanking God alone for what He had done for them. It wasn’t about us. It was about the person who was in and behind us. I was so humbled by that I had to simply stop and thank God for my brothers and sisters in Sierra Leone who “got it right”. Thanking the Creator, rather than the created. Such a privilege to be used by Him.

Snapshots of the Heart...

They are here! Pictures from the Mercy Ships photographers! Join me in the journey through the pieces of my heart the past 3 weeks.
Here she is... the Africa Mercy. As shot of her sailing into the port of Freetown, Sierra Leone the day before I arrived, Feb. 27th. The fishing boat in the picture (L) is a daily sight from onboard the ship as fishermen and tradesmen carry their wares to the seaside markets. If you are ever out on deck, they will often wave to you.

My little friend to the right is one of our first orthopedic patients on the ward. After the madness of our first admission day, “Abu” (not his actual name), one of our 38 patients new admissions, settled into bed, freshly showered and in his patient gown. I LOVE this captured moment.






Another precious photo (above), is of one of the patients I have head-over-heels, fallen in love with. “Christophe” (not his actual name) is one of our club foot patients who is receiving the Ponseti casting treatment for his bilateral club feet. The Ponseti method is a non-surgical approach to treat club feet through a series of castings- gradually stretching the feet and tendons back into their normal position. Some of you may remember this from my Togo visit in 2010. Well, “Christophe”, (who, by the way just fell asleep in my arms 25 minutes ago while I was holding him in the ward) was a part of the 30 plus group of patients on the first admission day. They took a picture of his little frightened face as he stood in the doorway to the ward. Remember, this was most likely, most of the patients’ first time to see the ocean, be on a ship, and experience air conditioning. After about a week on the ward, this quiet, frightened child blossomed into the little boy you now see in the photo above. His priceless smile now comes every day along with a little giggle as I pick him up for my daily Christophe hug.

The following pictures are from the first admission day. Due to the fact that we were admitting 38 patients in one day, the admissions department called in the reinforcements (a.k.a. myself and another ward nurse) to help with the process! It was the first day of the hospital being open and we were getting our first patients, thus, PR (public relations) was ALL over the event snapping pictures left and right! The end result (fortunately for me) was many Mercy Ships photos with me in them! Here are a few of my favorites. (Below, right), I had one of our patients listening to my heart sounds. It’s one of my favorite things to do with patients on the ward; let them “play nurse”. This activity was met with a big grin, both from the patient and her mom when I placed the stethoscope in their ears.


(Below) Taking patients from the ward and to admissions!









(Below) All of our patients arriving from the north! All of my bow-legged and club-footed children!







Going through the admission process (below pictures). Weighing my patients and putting in vital signs. I personally love the left below picture. It was taken while I was doing all the information gathering in the admissions process. Yaaayy paperwork!


*SCREENING NOTE*
As a quick report of screening- it went VERY well today! We had a night security group who pre-screened patients in line the night before to be sure those waiting in line were waiting for health problems that Mercy Ships could treat. By the time we arrived (the pre-pre-screeners, that is), we only had the newly forming line that morning to pre-pre screen. While it was extremely difficult (I’ll share more stories later), overall, it was SAFE, calm, and fast. We were finished pre-pre-screening by 1100 and most of the team returned by 2pm. Thank you for your prayers!!! And my understanding that we scheduled around 200 people for surgery! More detailed information to come as well, so stay tuned! I praise God for his answers to prayer in so many ways- even down to the detail of putting up cloud cover over the U.N. compound to block the sun and keep things cool. We serve a pretty amazing God, Amen? May we all know even more of him today.

Screening Day...

Hello Everyone!

A quick update that screening day has been re-scheduled!!! This Saturday, March 26, we will have our second screening day starting at 0400 for security workers at an old UN facility in Freetown.

I am SO excited that we finally have a date set up, but would ask that everyone BATHE this day in PRAYER. We are all still praying that those who traveled for the first screening who are still in Freetown and will hear about the screening day.

I found out that I will be a "pre-pre-screener"; a.k.a. one of the staff who will be going through the lines, sorting out the symptoms/needs of those waiting in line. I had this same job at a screening day in Lome, Togo last year, and it was honestly one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do in my whole life. Essentially, I will be one of the people who will have to say "no" to those who are waiting in line for health conditions that Mercy Ships cannot not treat.

Top prayer requests would be:

1) That those who are waiting in Freetown would hear about the screening and come to the screening site Saturday.
2) That any evil powers/people would be bound from coming and stirring up the crowds.
3) That God would bring to the screening day each and every person He desires and that Mercy Ships can serve.
4) That hope & grace would abound and God's love shown amidst all of the "no's" we will need to tell hundreds of desperate people.
5) Safety for the Mercy Ships staff and Sierra Leoneans.

Thank you SO much! Just to let you know as well, I intend to catch up on my blogging in the next few days. :) So look forward to new pictures and stories! :)

P.S. Just as an update, today was my 3rd day on my own as charge nurse. I have felt constantly overwhelmed and pulled in 120 directions- pretty much behind and late in all my assignments, etc. It has left me needing to apply the words I often tell new nurses; "Be sure that, in the midst of all the adjustments, you first have grace for others and then grace for yourself." Ahh... yes. To, actually take my own advice. Thank you so much for all of those who have kept me in prayer. Please continue! :) Blessings to you all today!

The Patients are Coming! The Patients are Coming!

Hooray! Despite the tragedy of our screening day efforts, God, in His infinite wisdom, already had prepared for us a number of patients pre-screened from the north of Sierra Leone. During the 6 months that the Africa Mercy was dry-docked in South Africa, an advance team was at work in Sierra Leone connecting with local businesses, churches, hospitals, “scoping out the land”, so to speak, to prepare for the ship’s arrival in February. As part of that advance team, one of our surgeon’s went to the northern parts of Sierra Leone to more remote villages to screen for surgical candidates prior to the ship’s arrival. Because of his efforts, we now have 40 patients arriving today on the ship, most of with are orthopedic pediatrics!!! YAAAYYYYY!!!! You have NO idea how excited I was to hear that!!! After such a long 2 weeks of cleaning, bleaching, sorting, scrubbing, hauling, sweating, and setting up, the time for getting our first patients is finally here! Here are some of the pictures before and after our Mission “Ward Attack”!

(Below) Because of the dry-dock repairs, everything from wards had to be emptied out- so we were unloading everything from scratch to be cleaned (double bleached) BEFORE placing in clean wards (whose walls and ceilings and cupboards had also been double bleached).



(Below) Our international bleaching team; Timo (Holland), Ursina (Switzerland), and MeKenzie (U.S.)



After two weeks of cleaning and bleaching and stripping and waxing, here is the finished product!



Today, A Ward, C Ward, D Ward and ICU were set up awaiting out new patients! In celebration of our progress, the hospital hosted a ship-wide open house where we had games, activities, and open rooms in all the wards and OR rooms- everything from starting IV’s, to learning to place sutures, to removing a “cataract” from an enormous eyeball. SO much fun and enjoyed by the entire crew!

I was on the cookie-making committee where we got to use the industrial-sized mixers and measuring cups to make over 600 cookies for the open house. It was a huge success, needless to say! (It was the cookies)





I think ALL chocolate should be measured by the liter/quart (right). It was a new and fantastic experience for me!



As things have been moving along, I found out that my charge nurse position will be on A Ward (orthopedic), and I am PUMPED!!! I have charge nurse orientation tomorrow, then 2 days of on the ward orientation to get the hang of things (just like travel nursing-2 shifts and you’re on the go!). My first day on my own is this Thursday, so if you think of praying for me, I’d greatly appreciate it!

Today, we got our very first patients! Over 25 patients arrived today from the north and 8 from Freetown to be admitted for surgery tomorrow! I was SO excited! All 25 patients from the north were orthopedic pediatrics! As I saw them walk/waddle down the hallway toward the admissions room, I was so excited, I started grinning and jumping! As they walked by to find their bed in the wards, I called out “hello!” and “welcome” and was met with many shy grins and smiles. For the next 8 hours, I assisted the admission nurses getting vital signs, gathering information and moving patients to and from the ward to x-ray and lab. By 9pm most of the admissions were completed and tucked in for the night.

In addition to all of the business of ward preparation, God has really been challenging my heart in regards to the whole idea of serving and loving others. While, according to certain perspectives, my simply being here on the ship may be labeled as “serving” or “loving” to some, but my Father, the God who searches hearts, has a little different view, I think. As I have been here I have realized how much I prefer to serve or give according to my own preferences, desires, or personal convenience. I usually never admit that to myself at the time, but if I really stop and look within, it’s not always (or even usually) the loving, giving, selfless spirit I think I have.

II Corinthians 4:7 says, “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.”

While this verse has been encouraging me to continue to seek God to fill me with His strength and love, I think that some of the time I don’t even give Him the opportunity to do so because I don’t even ask. Praise God that He is continuing to do a work in my heart here- filling me up and stretching me here and there to be more like Him. But that’s the key… HE is the one doing the changing, growing, and loving- I am simply that “jar of clay” He is filling. The “treasure” is what’s inside.

The Unexpected Screening Day

Imagine it. It’s the night before the release of the tickets to the movie you have been WAITING to come out for over a year and a half! You’ve gotten together with your best friends, roommates, and an assortment of other random people to camp outside of the theater overnight to be the first in line the next day when they open the doors to sell the tickets. You huddle together, perhaps with a tent or simply a sleeping bag on the sidewalk, chattering, laughing, and gradually dozing off into the night, eagerly anticipating the glory of your persistent wait of tickets the next morning!

Now, imagine this same nighttime scene outside of a similar wall. You are in line alongside 10, 50, or 100 other people sitting or lying down, huddled on blankets and makeshift beds. You’re eager for morning in this line as well, only instead of giggles and light-hearted chatter, worry and fear leave a tense silence among the gathering crowd. Instead of waiting for the tickets to your sought-after movie, you await the opportunity to see a medical doctor you or your loved one has been unable to afford these past 1, 3, or even 15 years. You’ve heard a mercy ship was coming into the port of Freetown, a ray of hope in your desperate and destitute situation. Perhaps now the tumor that has been growing on the side of your neck, encapsulating the left side of your face can be removed. Perhaps now your child’s bowed legs can be restored and they can walk to school without ridicule and isolation. Perhaps now your baby that has been unable to eat well because of their cleft lip can gain weight and fully smile at you for the first time. Perhaps… perhaps… perhaps…


All these were the hopes of the people who lined up outside of the national stadium in Freetown, Sierra Leone, the night before the mass screening on March 7th. I was told by one of the first patients I saw that morning, that he had slept in line all night long to secure his place in the line. Desperation converging with hope. Hope that relief might come. Hope that someone might take notice and be able to help. It was that hope that drove individuals and families to wait in line, not only all night for some, but for hours upon hours the next day in the 90+ degree F heat beneath the unforgiving rays of the African sun. Many people who came to us outside of the stadium walls had used a majority of their precious resources to pay to travel however far, to reach the stadium early that morning. Most did not even have food or water. The only thing that kept them in line, waiting for a chance to been seen, was hope.

Yesterday, March 7th, the mass screening day for Mercy Ships took place. I was a part of the mid-morning team (which meant I only had to leave at 5:30am rather than 4am like the security crew) that arrived around 6am to begin setting up chairs, tables, and signs to transform the Freetown national sports stadium into a fully functioning screening/triage center. By the light of headlamps and flashlights we set up and dispersed the furniture and medical supplies; excitement and anticipation building for this long-awaited day. Eager Mercy Ships volunteers from throughout the ship numerous areas (the galley, public relations, housekeeping, hospitality, and reception) as well as the medical teams (The eye team, dental team, doctors, surgeons, OR staff, and ward nurses) hummed with nervous expectation until the first of our patients began arriving with the first hour of light, and we began our screening day outreach. None of us knew the tragedy that was to come.

All morning I was working with one of our doctor’s and an OR nurse, screening for general surgery patients. With the help of two fantastic translators, our team of five began to evaluate all of the potential general surgical patients- mainly hernia repairs and goiters. We slowly gained momentum as the morning went on, getting into an efficient “groove” of seeing and assessing patients for surgical candidacy. Suddenly, around 11am, I got word from another staff member that there was trouble down at the gate of the stadium. Alison, the OR nurse working with us, left to assist other crew at the gate and I continued looking after patients with the doctor.

What happened in the next hour and a half – maybe 2 hours, was a blur. Through pieces of information here and there, I slowly heard that the “trouble” at the gate was, in fact, a storming of the awaiting crowd into the gate, trampling or injuring 13 people- one of which died, and two other left with life-threatening injuries. Our emergency response team, and the majority of our medical team was there triaging and caring for the injured patients. Before I knew it, non-medical staff were being escorted out and driven back to the ship. I tried to reassure patients as I waited for things to smooth back over into a flow of patients once again- only it didn’t. Within 30 minutes, we all evacuated the site leaving half-screened and unscreened patients behind. The entire Mercy Ships staff was heartbroken to have to leave SO many in need not only at the gate, but waiting in the buildings, unseen and unscheduled for surgery. It will take time for all of us to process through the terrible events of that day, but plans are being made as we speak to re-organize and continue screening. If you could please lift up the Sierra Leonean people, the victims of the gate storming, and the Mercy Ships staff in prayer, that would be greatly appreciated.

I would like to leave you with the words of Don Stephens, the Mercy Ships founder, regarding the events of screening day:

“Mercy Ships is deeply saddened by the tragic events that occurred today during medical screening at the Freetown National Stadium when a crowd stormed the gate resulting in several injuries and one life lost.

Mercy Ships personnel working at the site attended the injured and accompanied them to local hospitals.

‘Our hearts and prayers are with the individuals and families of those affected by today's events. The occurrence of this incident in the course of activities intended to restore lives is tragic. We move forward with tremendous sadness, but great determination, to assist as many people as possible in the next ten months,’ stated Mercy Ships Founder, Don Stephens.

Mercy Ships exists to serve the forgotten poor and has served Sierra Leone five times over the past two decades, also helping establish two land based health care facilities. For the next ten months, Mercy Ships will be providing surgeries for qualified patients while working alongside the Sierra Leonean Government to support its five-year healthcare plan and strengthen the functions of the national health system.”

Thank you for your continual (and previous) prayers. We all look forward to a new course and plan for future screening efforts and pray for comfort and God’s provision for those who were left unseen and untreated in the wake of what happened March 7th.