Break Time

Near the end of each year, our operating rooms briefly shut their doors to scheduled surgeries with the aim of giving our hardworking OR crew a rest. This respite also provides the time and space for many long-term crew to spend the winter holidays with family and friends while providing a natural end-date for short-term crew who want to be home for Christmas. The ship is quiet and peaceful this time of year; I quite like it. Since the screening team ultimately feeds patients into the OR, we also got a much-appreciated break.

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I've never been much of a beach bum. Growing up, I lived quite close to the beach and yet only spent a few days each summer taking advantage of the sun, sand, and sea. As a teenager, my idea of fun at the beach was walking the boardwalk and eating frozen custard. I like to stay active, so sunbathing always seemed like a bore after an hour or two. And though I love to swim, Virginia's waters were a bit cold for all-day play. So, when two friends from the screening team asked me if I'd like to join them for a week-long vacation on the beaches of Sierra Leone, I must admit, I deliberated a bit before saying YES :) 

But what a good YES it turned out to be. Our time in Sierra Leone was quiet and restful. We fell asleep under mosquito nets in a simple wooden hut, waves crashing meters away.

Our cabin

We woke each morning naturally, without alarms. We ate breakfast and journaled on a beautiful porch. We lounged under grass umbrellas for hours, reading until the promised coolness of the calm waters lured us into the ocean. When the need to be active settled into our bones, we took walks -leaving footprints in the wet sand trailing behind us. And as the sun started to set each evening, our skin feeling tight and dry from layers of salt and sand caked on, we retreated to take cold showers and then headed back to the porch for dinner. Such a simple routine, but one that I welcomed each sunrise. Maybe aging is bringing out the beach bum in me after all. 

Our offsite excursions were limited to three days, two of which were spent on nearby beaches doing much of the same. Of course, we also had to visit Sierra Leone's capital, Freetown. 

The beautiful white sands of Tokeh Beach Resort. 

The memories that follow capture some of my favorite moments of the vacation:

A new friend from Tokeh village, Fode, invites us to take a canoe ride to a nearby waterfall. It's late afternoon. The canoe is made with lumber that has seen better days. It's paint is faded and chipped. Water puddles around our feet. However, I still feel confident that I can trust the vessel; it appears sturdy (enough). We push off from the water's edge, our bow gliding through the surface. Mangroves surround us, crabs skittering along the roots. As we continue away from where the river and the ocean meet, the water becomes stagnant, parts have a film of some unknown substance on top. At one point we stop. Fode tells us that the rest of the journey is on foot, through the scummy water. I think about the worst that could happen and decline. My friends jump out, ready for some exploring. With the canoe anchored (using a rock), I am alone on the water. I take some photos, swat some flies (grateful however, that they aren't mosquitoes), then I just sit - in peace. I look at the water with intensity. The world around me appears in reflection. Mangrove trees, clouds, a hint of sun. In the background, the Muslim call to prayer. I start to think about the future. The ship sails from Guinea in June. Then what? 

Just chillin' in a canoe hoping the crocodiles don't find me

River #2 Beach. A hot spot where locals congregate on holidays and weekends. The New Year's festivities are in full swing. We order lunch at a little hut then find a table and chairs on the beach with the help of an employee. A older woman stops by to sell us starfruit. She is kind, even offers us a taste. We enjoy refreshments while people watching. Africa is the land of selfies it seems. Our food arrives - like heaven on a plate. Crab, fish kebabs, and chicken - all cooked and seasoned to perfection. And of course there are french fries - with crinkles. I am happy. As the tide goes out, a group of boys finds a muddy spot to play soccer along the water's edge. The sun starts to set. We visit a few market stalls behind the festivities - men are selling fabric, purses, wooden figurines, masks etc. We hear whirring sounds as tailors press on the foot pedals of old fashioned sewing machines. Back at the confluence of the river and the ocean, a beautiful scene - the sky is hazy with Harmattan dust but colors of the rainbow still peak through. We hold up our bags and wade across the river feeling somewhat adventurous. Within minutes we are back on a quiet beach, the energy and excitement of River #2 beach behind us. 

Sunset at River #2

Paddle boarding late one afternoon. The water is gentle. The sun reflects off the surface. I move away from the shore. It's just me and the ocean. I feel free. As I go deeper, the water gets more opaque. I start to feel nervous. I don't like the unknown. I think to myself, "what is lurking below"? I hold steady for a while and then with a spark of courage, proceed out farther. Instead of looking down, I look ahead. I stare out on the horizon and focus on the beauty around me. All is fine for a while, but then I lose my focus. Fear rises in me again. I peer down. It's impossible to see anything, the water is a much darker blue at this depth. I turn back towards the beach, thinking all is well, but then I lose my footing and fall in. My imagination turns to jelly fish, sharks, and other slimy sea creatures. I scramble quickly to get my body back atop the board. 

A Bible story in Matthew comes to mind. Jesus tells Peter not to be afraid. Feeling brave, Peter gets out of the boat and walks on water towards Jesus. He keeps his eye on the One he can trust. But then Peter feels the wind and let's fear take over. He starts to sink. 

Kind of like me. 

My paddle board session; it feels like a metaphor for life. 

Just me and the sea

New Year's Eve. A countdown to midnight. We toast to 2019 with champagne around a bonfire on the beach. Ace of Base - "She leads a lonely life" in the background. Ironic it seems. We start chatting with two couples - one from Romania and another from Belarus and the USA - about work, about world travels, about living in Sierra Leone & Guinea, about faith. Time passes quickly. Before long it is 2:30 AM and the fire is burning out. We all retire to our beach huts. 

New Year's. Before noon, we are approached by the second couple with an amazing offer. Two days later, we meet them at River #2. They have opened their schedule (even taking off work) to drive us around Freetown in their car. We visit the craft market, pass by the famous cotton tree, catch a view of the city from above, and enjoy sorbet/gelato by Lumley beach. There's a moment during our conversation when I think to myself - This seems so natural, as if we have been friends for years. In the late afternoon, they drop us at the Tacugama Chimpanzee Sanctuary for a tour, and we part ways. Their driver meets us at the Sanctuary post-tour and takes us the hour back to Tokeh. We were -and still are - blown away by their kindness. 

An alpha male chimp keeping watch

Our friend from the canoeing session invites us to eat local style at a makeshift restaurant near the village. It basically consists of a few tables and chairs at the beach. Cooking is done over a fire. A hand-written plastic sign is stuck in the sand - "VIP restaurant" it says. With some hesitancy on my part (I tend to be overly cautious about food safety), we make a "reservation". At our agreed upon date and time, we are walking towards the restaurant when Fode approaches us. He's smiling. "Everything is prepared" he says, "so I decided to come get you". 

We arrive to the spot. Fode has set up a special table - complete with a table cloth and an umbrella. It's on prime real estate - so that all passersby can see us. The food is already there, and it looks pretty tasty - better than I expected. The restaurant doesn't have drinks - yep, definitely makeshift - so Fode collects some money from us and goes to buy water in the village. It's getting dark. We use an iPhone flashlight, placed among the metal stretches of the umbrella, to help us see our meal. Everyone around us continues on with life in the dark, as if it's not a hindrance. How have they adapted, I wonder. The fish flakes - perfect doneness. The African red sauce, made with palm oil no doubt, is amazing. The sweet potato fries are a bit cold and burnt on the edges, but they are somehow addicting - perhaps it's the taste of being cooked over a fire that intrigues our taste buds. Waves crash just feet away. In the distance, we see the outline of fishing boats as they rock back and forth atop the sea. Above, the sky is now black - stars a plenty. I sit back in my plastic chair to soak everything in. What a positive community experience. 

And finally, because this always makes me smile:

Meeting people who have a connection to Mercy Ships -

- A border guard whose family member received care with Mercy Ships when it was docked in Freetown in 2011. 

- Our taxi driver whose younger brother is working on the ship as housekeeping day crew this year. 

- A former day crew who recently resigned because he got married and is moving to the United States. He was in Sierra Leone on his honeymoon. 

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This past weekend 60 or so (mostly) new faces arrived to the ship. After the calm of the holidays, it feels kind of strange to have a full crew. The dining room is noisy once again. The Africa Mercy is a far cry from the quiet, pristine beaches of Sierra Leone, that's for sure. Yet still, I feel content to be back on board. There's new energy in the air. New patients are arriving daily. It's time to plan for another up-country trip. Plus, I have an eager anticipation to see what this new year has in store - in Guinea and beyond.