Dispatch # 1- The Other Side of the World
What can 27 hours of travel, delayed flights, sleep deprivationand jetlag earn you? A trip to the other side of the world, to the western edge of Africa where I am about to begin my 4th surgical mission on the Africa Mercy, now docked in Conakry, Guinea.
Like a labouring patient who forgets her pain the moment she sets sight on her newborn baby, that is how I feel when I first set sight on the ship after nearly a year’s absence. The sheer exhaustion of the trip immediately dissipates. It is a homecoming worth travelling thousands of miles for, accentuated by the warm “welcome back” by the many long-term volunteers on board.
This trip, however, is extra special for me on a very personal level, as I am accompanied for the first time on the mission by my wife, Marie, and two daughters, Gabrielle and Elyana. My wife and I have been on surgical mission together beforebut never with our children.
When I was six years old, my parents moved to Nigeria, not far from where I am now, to deliver medical care to the underserved, many of whom had never seen a physician before. My father was an orthopedic surgeon, but his surgical fundamentals also made him a general surgeon, a urologisand a plastic surgeon among many other disciplines. My mother, a family doctor, served as the hospital’s pediatrician, obstetricianand “hospitalist” long before there was such a word.
I love my practice in Montreal but I also know that I practice in an environment where I am fortunately dispensable. While I am in Africa, our pediatric surgery service in Montreal will run just as well and provide just as good care. My parents were indispensable – typically the only barrier between the patient and a very poor outcome. Sadly that remains much of the situation here in Guinea and in much of Africa today.
That early childhood experience left an indelible impact on me, and undoubtedly impacted the physician – indeed the person – I am today. As we walk around the market in Conakry this morning, we hold our daughters’ hands and guide them through the mud puddles, the roar of motorcycles and cars fighting with people for the little space on the dirt roads, the burning garbage, the stalls of freshly harvested vegetables and freshly butchered meats and the children urinating nearby.
I look at the face of my 7-year old daughter and try to elicit a response. Gabi is stone-faced – in pure culture shock. She did not know such a world existed. But I know her well. She will be asking many questions in the days to come, questions about poverty, illness, pollution, inequality and much more. We will speak and come up with few answers. But the conversation would have started. My first goal!
Back on the ship, Gabi is again closer to her comfort zone. But she also senses something different about this community, as everyone celebrates our arrival and reaches out to share whatever they can. She is already asking why all these volunteers are here, why they are serving without getting paid. She is starting to understand the meaning of service – selfless, genuine service. My second goal!
I show Gabi the map to explain that we have arrived on the other side of the world. But it is more than geography. It is the other side so easy for us to ignore, so easy for us to live as if it did not exist. I am hoping that this trip will impress on my children that such a world indeed exists, and that there are people from many nations, driven by a very special calling, who could have enjoyed all the comforts of our world, but have instead decided to come to this one and help.