Much Chaos

I have found there is much struggle with being a full time math/economics/Health teacher and a full time jungle doctor/nurse. The kids need my help with their Hw and the patients need treatment. I must lesson plan and read up on diseases. I help run the Monday clinic and and teach four classes. I must grade papers and assess people. I must give exams and deal with the emergencies... Normally at the same time. Or that's what happened this week. The three emergencies from the last blog put me behind on making my exams for this week. Midterms. Those blasted things. Since, unlike the other teachers, I don't get the afternoons or early morning to do other teacher stuff, I must squeeze it in there somewhere. With the busy week prior to exam week, I didn't have time to make my exams then either. And so that is how I found myself scrambling the night before two of my exams, making them, fighting sleep, hating everything. At 9 I couldn't go on any longer (I know I'm a grandpa) and so i slept thinking I would finish with enough time in the morning. 

When I awoke the next morning, I began. This normally should have been a quick thing but with my Microsoft word deciding it wanted to stop working and with half of the test containing math characters not in another program, the struggle was real. Plus most of my students aren't quite prepared for 9th and 10th grade math to begin with (not being able to multiply and divide. I'm not sure how they have made it this far) so I have to individualize tests to set them up for some kind of success.

So I had to make 5 different tests. I was making them on Pages (what the...) and things were going very slow and my time was running out. It was also my idea to give worship that morning before the exams. Mistake. 

When I finally finished making my exams and was ready to print them, I remembered that I had to write half the test by hand. That's ok, I thought, I will just do one copy of each test and then Xerox it. And so 15 min before the time to give worship, I was in the office printing. Of course in times of extreme stress nothing wants to work, the ink is nonexistent in the copier and all the men in Garo hills wanted to show up in the office at the same time and ask me the same questions... The struggle. I was inside having a panic attack wanting everything just to stop for a moment. I was already five min late to my exam and I didn't give worship. I was handwriting all my exams and the printer was jammed and the sky was falling, and there was an earthquake. Ok the last two are false, but I felt it was that way.

 I finally made it to class and gave my exam. I spent the time making another exam. In the end, no one died, but it sure felt like it. I'm not a fan of this much chaos. I don't think anyone is. 

But I have found it is less about the chaos, and the having a mental break down, and wanting to kick all the chickens in my frustration. Instead it is more about the surrender. More about the asking for help from on high. More about believing that God isn't going to let your life flood all the way over. And if He does, He'll be your ark. He'll even drive for you. You just have to come for the ride. The rain might come for forty days and forty nights (it literally rains everyday here), but you'll have a roof, and the chaos of the winds and waves won't overcome you. They will just make you stronger. And you will look back on it all and say, "Wow, God brought me through all that?! Well Bless!" 

Then when you have to make decisions about your patients that could be life or death, and the network goes out and you can't reach your partner or translator, and you have to be a teacher and a doctor, and the struggle increases and goes on, like this sentence, you will be alright. Again. Death won't come. The babies may still cry on the compound and the roosters may still run this, but God rules the world. And as the song says, He's got the whole world in His hands.

He's got you and me brother/sister. 

He's got the Kameron's. 

Reganoke!

One of Those Days

Today began like any other day. 

I got up at 6 ish instead of 530 because the struggle was real. I had worship and lunch with the kids, my favorite parts of the day normally. I knew I would have to get in my relaxing time then and not later. Exam week was upon us and I hadn't written my exams yet. 

The plan was to write my exams and my test for the midwives. Mistake one was making a plan. 

One of the girls came by and asked for help with some math. I promised her I would help around 1030. I knew I could accomplish much before that. Mistake 2 was making that promise. While on the brink of complete productivity, Ms Leishimi called my cellphone, and I got the call in my dungeon basement room. Strange. No network there. 

It was an emergency of a boy I was told about by another garo man about 30 min earlier. I dropped everything, grabbed some emergency hospital money from the office and hopped on my motorcycle too fast and too furiously. Ha.

When I arrived on scene, the child looked so disheveled, I was surprised he was alive. Not only did he look extremely weak, he was yellow in the skin and was having difficultly breathing. This was probably due to the way his mother had him wrapped up and strapped to her back. We got report and did some assessments: 5 year old boy with high fever, jaundiced, high pulse, labored breathing, hadn't eaten in 4 days, dehydrated, barely drinking, had both malarias, everything. I was surprised he was still hanging on. We laid him down on the bed and kept close watch over him, making sure he was still breathing. 

I knew he would go to the hospital because he was just in too bad of shape. We dialed 108. As we waited, we learned more about the boy. Turns out he had a younger brother once who had the same sickness and died from it not too long ago. Strange. Why did the parents wait until now to call us? Why didn't they call when he hadn't eaten in 2 days? Why weren't they proactive? Did they want to lose another one? I was so upset... And yet, we waited, prayed, reassessed, prayed some more. We gave him little bits of water because he would have aspirated if given more. He was that weak. We would have given an IV but didn't come prepared. We would have given medicine but there was no food in his system. At a loss. So, we continued to wait. 

We prayed some more. The family did a group catholic prayer. I was lost. I prayed some more.

Then the ambulance finally came, and we loaded the boy and family into the back. They left swiftly, knowing the emergency. Moreover, the ambulance did not have oxygen or an IV on board -____- so upset. 

I kept praying.

Mrs. Leishimi and I went back to the compound and tried to get some other work done. As soon as we sat down to settle some bills, another lady called. She told us her husband was very sick and we needed to come fast. Thinking it was just as bad as the case from 1 hour ago, we dropped everything and went back out. 

We were surprised to find this man calmly sitting in a chair. He looked alright. He wasn't sprawled on the floor, barely moving, and disheveled like the other boy. He actually looked fine... "When it isn't an emergency," I said out loud. We did an assessment on him: a little jaundiced, had gone to the toilet 15 times that day, weak, low blood pressure, pain and weakness. Hadn't eaten well. Malaria. Yep. Case 2. 

So he was an emergency. But treatable at home. We gave him some antibiotics, the malaria medicine, and went on our way. Emergency 2 done

One of the blessings thus far was the ability to drive the wakers and not have to walk. Mmm

We got back the second time and I actually got to sit down for a couple of minutes and eat and breathe. I went back to the student I promised to help. I told her I would come back soon to help her.

And then that didn't happen. 

Around 3, right as Mrs. Leishimi was about to take class, another patient called in severe distress. I had to take this one. And so I rolled over and headed out with Likan, my translator, hoping and praying this would be a quick fix and I would be able to come back and be a teacher again.

Spoiler alert. It wasn't a quick fix.

This lady, probably around the age of 50, looked rough. She was lying in bed groaning with very irregular breathing, and fever. Word from the husband was that she also hadn't eaten in 4 days and was drinking water here and there. Her vitals were all but normal and she had both malarias when I checked her. She also wasn't responding well to stimuli: her name being called, touch, pain. She looked so serious, I thought hospital treatment was best. I consulted with Mrs. Leishimi on the phone. She came from class to assess herself. 

We decided to try and stabilize her with an IV and medicine and then give malaria meds. It's interesting how nervous I get when doing nursing skills that I have known for so long but in a different setting. Like in the jungle. Maybe my nervousness isn't out of the ordinary. After attaching fluid and giving IV meds, we then waited. And waited.

And waited.

And by some miracle, she actually started to get well. Alabanza to the Lord I thought. We gave her some food, kept assessing, talked to the family.

Then the rain came. This normally isn't a problem, except I didn't bring a jacket. And we had to somehow drive the bikes back because they couldn't be at this man's house the whole night. They would get stolen. We brainstormed our options: push them to a neighbor's, leave them in the road, drive them back on the treacherous, muddy, slippery, dark road.

As we pondered, we watched the IV slowly drip into her body. She came to. In fact, by prayer and the Lord alone, she was actually able to get up and use the restroom with some help. That was wild. To go from bedridden to walking. Miracles. I believe in the small ones.

When the IV finally finished, we hooked up a new one and packed up to leave. The father would take care of the rest he said. Thankfully, by this time the rain had stopped. Only slick wet road to overcome. So we prayed, got on our bikes and drove very slowly through the dark jungle, back to the compound. We didn't die, as you can see; I'm writing this. We got back around 9, which is late for us. Very. Bless the Lord others were praying for our safety, however. Moreover so thankful all is in the hands of Jesus. 

On my way back to my room someone asked me how the day went. "Oh, you know. Just one of those days." 

Hmm

A Shout Out

This is a shout out. 

A shout out to my first haircut in India.

A shout out to the "little clippers that could" for cutting my hair. When I originally thought it wouldn't be strong enough to cut thick African American hair, I should have went with that original thought.

A shout out to using my bed sheet as the draw sheet around my neck. It wasn't as effective as a barber's, but hey, I'm in India. 

A shout out to trying to use a guard to cut a little bit at a time. It wasn't really working because my hair is as thick as the jungle here. And so thought, ok maybe I'll just do no guard and take it all off. And so I went straight razor and shaved off a little portion in the front. Then I felt the clippers catch my Aunt Jemimah thick curls and I heard the struggle the clippers were having... I thought, oh snap, these clippers aren't Goin to be able to finish the job I have just started.

A shout out to my sympathetic nervous system for putting me in fight or flight mode as I thought I would look so trashy with the barely started haircut. 

And then a shout out to Sengnap sir for coming to the rescue. He's a Garo teacher here. Pretty cool dude. He offered to take over. And so he took the clippers and went to work. I could tell this was his hardest cut yet. After trying so hard with "the little clippers that could" and making such little progress, he decided to use his barber scissors. I was very skeptical at first, thinking there is no way this will work, but...

A shout out to Sengnap sir for being the man and cutting my hair with scissors. He cut it low enough so that "the little clippers that could" could finish the job. It took over an hour, but I'll take it. 

A shout out to being bald. It wasn't a bad look. I decided to keep the beard cause the bros from home told me I had to keep the hair growing for the whole year.

A shout out to being a bald bearded man. Everyone thinks I'm a grieving Hindu because supposedly, that's what grieving Hindus do: they shave their heads. This would be interesting I thought. 

A shout out to new things. To new experiences. To living a little recklessly with no regrets. 

A shout out to Jesus for giving me this incredible opportunity to serve.

A shout out to Alabanza.

Not Easily Forgotten

Some things in life are not easily forgotten. Like the time my mom, brother, and I got in a car accident when I was 7 but no lives were taken. Angels were there. Or the time a ball hit me in the mouth and I lost three teeth. Believe it or not, angels were there. 

Then there was the time I followed Ms Leishimi on the bike and was supposed to meet her at Umbi's house. I coasted down the hill like I always do, prayed at the bottom, and was on my way. Then suddenly the bike stopped working out of no where  as if it ran out of gas. And there was no one around. So I got off my bike and began to kick start. And I did it again and again and again. And no success. I tried revving the engine while kick starting like I saw the guys doing. No luck. Again and again I tried. Nothing. I prayed for the bike. Nothing. And then... Angels came. All the class 9 and 10 girls just so happened to be picking flowers with Ms Chandona a little ways off. And I heard the joyous shout of "Sir Kam!!" That they always say as if they haven't seen me in weeks. It's always nice. "What happened to your bike?!?" They yelled. "It won't start!" I yelled back.

And so they quickly came to my assistance. And that's how we spent the next 15 min trying to start the bike. We did more laughing than anything else. The girls shielded my bald head from the sun, gave me tips,  tried to start the bike themselves, and eventually told me to just turn around and come back home. Then a Garo man came and also tried to start the bike. But to no avail. Then we pushed it up a small hill as I rode down and tried to kick start. To no avail. Then the girls finally convinced me to just take the bike back; they would help me push it up the biggest hill ever in meghalaya that we decided to settle and build a school upon. My Lanta.

So we began the journey. I felt extra bad for Ms. Leishimi because I had no way of contacting her and I knew she was probably waiting for me at Umbi's house wondering "where is sir?" Such a pickle. 

Pushing the bike was easy at first. I told the girls some stories and we all laughed. When we got to the hill, we took turns taking sides of the bike and we pushed that bike up the hill slowly but surely. It was soooooo funny. The girls tried to convince me to let them push by themselves since I was so tired. But I couldn't do that to them. As we pushed and pushed and made progress, I screamed, "you're all 21st century, independent women! And don't need NO man!" (Side note: I told them soon after that they should actually get married some day) They wanted to call the guys for help but no one was listening. We could do this. And we pretty much did. We made it about 3/4 of the way or more. Then Suban and Paul came to our aid. And of course, after some time, Suban was able to start it and rode it up the hill. It was so fun. We walked the rest of the way. Joked. Laughed. Like we always do. 

I really enjoyed my time with the girls. We laughed so much, we prayed together, we encouraged each other, and we made memories. That are hard to forget. The kids are hard to forget. I won't forget them. I mean how could forget the time when angels came to your aid? 

Hallelu

April Fools

Timrei fell sick a couple of days ago. He and the other 10th graders went to town for the day, and he came back with some serious stomach pain and bathroom issues. I treated him with some antibiotics and stomach medicine and prayed with him to get better. I don't have favorites but if I did, Timrei would be up there. Therefore, I didn't like seeing one of my little brothers sick.

 The second day of his sickness was a little better than the rest. Even so, I decided to give him a different medicine that would be more appropriate for his problem. I sent him to bed. No problems. 

I woke up the next morning at the usual time of 530. While reading and getting ready, Ms. Leishimi ran by my door. "Kameron sir, what happened?!"

 

 I was very confused. "Ummm idk, you're the one bringing something up."

"Timrei is sick?!" She said.

"...yes. I already told you yesterday, and I am currently treating him."

"Well he has gotten worse, you need to go see him."

Oh no, I thought. The whole conversation was strange in itself as she went to go draw water from the pipe. She didn't seem in a big hurry to see this kid, especially if he had gotten worse. Anyway, I leisurely put on clothes and get ready because.. It was 530 am. As I was about to leave, Ms. Awon came by and said in worry, "Timrei is really sick! Go fast! Blessingson is also sick. Hurry!" And then she ran away. 

Now my nerves were really on edge. Two of the boys were sick! Oh no, I must have given a wrong medicine and Timrei must be throwing up everywhere and in serious pain. He's probably on the ground covered in his own vomit. Close to death. And Blessingson is probably catching the same disease! What if he too makes a turn for the worse?! Oh no, I've made a medical error that has cost someone their life!! My brother's life!!! All these thoughts were swimming in my head as I grabbed my stethoscope and headed out the door. I went back to my room after running halfway across the campus to get the rest of my emergency equipment. I'm sure I looked silly and worried. 

I expected the absolute worst when I walked into the Boy's hostel. Mess everywhere and two of the boys in complete and utter distress. And yet, I found the hostel completely silent. Like they were all asleep. They were all asleep. 

Strange.  

And so I went to the boys' beds. Timrei and Blessingson were peacefully sleeping. Nothing seemed to be wrong. I figured if something was wrong, there would at least be a look of distress on their faces wen in sleep. 

I woke Timrei. "Hey are you ok?" He was fine. A littler better than the previous day. He actually slept that night unlike the previous one. And so I moved on to Blessingson. "Hey, what's going on?" 

"Nothing sir..." He said is half sleep confusion. 

"So you're not sick?"

"No sir"

"Is there anything wrong?"

 "I don't think so."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure sir"

He continued to convince me that everything was just fine. No problems, zilch, nada. 

And so I left the boys hostel in as much confusion as Blessingson. Where did the girls get their information from? It didn't make sense. The stories weren't matching and I was seriously worried. What if something was happening that I didn't know about. And so I went to find Ms. Leishimi to clear things up. I was still mad she took her sweet time drawing water and didn't come see the patient with me. 

I walked towards my house and then around the corner where the girls use the water and everyone was.......Laughing! 

"April Fools!!" They screamed..........

-_________________- really I thought? That was a joke?! I complimented then on their "good joke" and walked away.

I was soooooooo upset. It was April Fools days but I didn't think they even knew what it was so I just forgot about it. Guess not. In America, I'm not used to people crying wolf on injuries just for the sake of April fools day. It stresses everyone out. But for them, it's permissible. I later explained to them how it's done in America. 

After all this, I returned back to my Hostel and just relived the whole situation. I was still a little mad. Funny, not really. 

The rest of the day was filled with jokes. I gave them a quiz in math. They thought it was a joke. It wasn't. HA!!!! At the end of the day, Ms Ella played a little trick on all of us. She brought us a dessert treat to have after our music practice. We all took a piece and said cheers to the good practice. 

And then the treat tasted like mint. She has spread Colgate on top of the snack. It was clever. It was good. I still hate mint. But it was still a good laugh. We all laughed.

We laugh a lot here. It's kinda like a way of life. A good one I think. We should laugh more. There is something about the laughing with everyone here that makes me fall in love once more every day. There is some kinda study that talks about some good result of laughter. I forgot. Not that it really matters. I just know that I love laughing. I love it here. And I don't want to go.

May the days draw out, and let's laugh through and through. 

Still Bad at Sports

I have never really been all that good at sports. In school, I wasn't necessarily the last kid picked in gym. I was actually one of the first for some reason. Probably because kids all had the notion that because Kameron was fast and black, he must be good at sports. Yea... I thought that too. I was always reminded of my lack of athletic ability on a pretty consistent basis. All was fun and games when playing with my brothers because we just wanted to have fun. However when playing with others, the ball of reality was ever a fast pitch to the face. Since losing my teeth to a fast pitch to the face, my fear of balls has also increased. They say face your fears. So I guess I'll go stand in a court and let everyone throw balls at me.... 

This athletic deficit has only followed me since being in India. I normally like to play volleyball with the guys. I was never all that good at it. When things started Goin on the up up skill wise, it would crash just as fast as it went up. I normally just play for good fun because I'm not good, but as we all know, competition is a serious thing for males. 

The guys are all fairly good at volleyball even with their vertical challenges (the net is a little short however). I'm kinda just there, trying to be good. As I have played with the guys and made many many mistakes, I have realized there are 4 different ppl in sports: 

The first is the the person who has no idea what they are doing. They simply play because they were either forced or don't want to be left out. They are often scolded for their bad play and eventually make some excuse to leave the game early. 

Then there is the person who is actually pretty good at the game and encourages everyone around to keep playing and do their best. This person is the most liked because you want to follow their example in sport and attitude. 

Then there is the person who is kinda in the middle. This person plays the sport for fun. He is good one day, bad the next. He attempts to succeed in good play and actually be a support for the team. Sometimes he is the downfall of the team. This person isn't normally scolded often because at least they don't make complete mistakes at every turn. Even so, they are self conscious and insecure about their playing ability and eventually also make an excuse to leave the game early. Especially when one of the other guys, in a cheery smile, offers to take your spot and puts you in a different position. This is when the last straw is normally pulled and it's definitely time to go.  This person described would be me...

And finally there is the hot shot all star. He plays all he positions. He also coaches everyone on how to properly play and scolds for every bad move. When he puts the "I" in team and makes a mistake, instead of accepting that he can't do it all or made a mistake, he makes an excuse which saves face but normally puts blame on another player. This person is never wrong and the best. In everything. They think. This person is only liked by some. He's a good player but you'd rather not be around him when on the court for fear of getting yelled at or other things. This person is brother Davin.

After realizing this, I still decided I would play volleyball here with the guys. Some days everyone is playing lazily and that's really fun. We laugh a lot and all make mistakes. Other days like today, the game is real and I'm kinda holding the team back. And so I pray the game ends quick or I can find an excuse to leave early. 

Even with all these sad realities surrounding my sub par athletic abilities, I am reminded that we can't be good at everything. We can't be the athletic jock, book worm, and artist from the seed of Michelangelo. The that's not how God made us. As pieces of the body of Christ, we can't all be the eye because then we couldn't hear. If we were all the feet then how could we see where we were going. And so on. So at times like today where I play like I have no arms and legs, I am reminded that I have some other talents. I can hold an "ok" tune. I know how to cook and not starve. I know how to crochet which if you think about it, I can make my own clothes even if it looks like my blind dog dressed me. I'm pretty good at making people laugh and don't mind being silly for the sake of making others comfortable. Someone has to put themselves out there. I think I give pretty good hugs and I'm good at long distance communication. All these things make me, me. And I think that without being who I was created to be, I would be doing the Lord a disservice by trying to be the hand or the feet when I am the nose or the leg. Can I serve the Lord best in areas in which the talent simply isn't there? Or should I simply but most importantly use the talents I do have to glorify God to the fullest? Make a good meal to feed a hungry family or try to teach some musicians how to play their instruments when I can't even read music. We can't do it all. That's something important to know. And yet, we can and should do something. We should love. We should serve. We should give it our all. And we should do all this while glorifying God who is working in us.

I was reminded recently that with man, nothing is possible. But with God, all things are possible. So yea, I cant hit balls; but I can do something else and still lead someone to Christ. And that, I believe, makes the Lord smile.

Alabanza. 

To Dance With Jesus

Tonight we had one of those hour long bible studies where half the time, uncle bill was recapping on the past bible study: about the sunday law, the beasts of revelation, the papacy and the like. Stuff heard from sabbath school and pictures colored from those coloring pages (you know you're adventist when your coloring sheets are of the statue in Daniel 2). When you talk about the end of time it can get you a little scared but also very excited for the coming of our Lord. And you just pray that everyone is ready. 

On the flip side, today was such a nice day with the kids. It's times like today that I will remember: playing lazy volleyball with the guys where we spend half the time laughing, Davin is still the volleyball police, playing all the positions, and we're all just having a great time. Moreover, days like today where I laugh with the girls at dinner about random funny stuff, will not be forgotten. It's always times like these that always remind me that I leave in December. The girls have already planned to save money so they can travel back with me to kolkata to see me off at the airport. It hurts to think of it. For the first time since I've been here, I felt like honestly crying. Not because I miss the American life or my school or even friends and family; the feelings come from the thought of some day having to say bye to this place. Not being able to teach the kids math and trying very hard to empower them that they can learn this concept if they can learn 5 languages. Not being able to sneak chilies into my food because they aren't allowed. Not being able to diagnose all the boys with some disease that they probably don't have. They're just messing around. Not being Able to hear Mingum scream the dogs's names when it's time to eat. Not being able to make those foreigner mistakes. 

All this made me want to hold on to Jesus. To talk to and walk with and dance with Jesus. What would it be like? Can we imagine it. He leads i assume. But what is the movement like? Are we moving our own feet with His, stepping on His toes, or are we being carried like a father carries his young daughter, doing all the movements until we let go? Idk. The only thing I knew and know now, at this moment, is that I want to dance with Jesus. I want to dance with him through the villages as I try and learn garo and Hindi. I want to dance my way through the rest of this year. And dance my way through the rest of life. Dance through the storms and the calm days. On the streets and through the by ways. Through every trial and every tribulation because we must see who will stand for Jesus when time gets rough.  Until it is well with my soul and I am standing on that beautiful shore where the sun doesn't need to shine because Jesus is enough. That's some day. So bright I'm sure. So glorious. I can't comprehend. After all. After all, he is holy.