I've been having a difficult time trying to decide what to share with you next. What part of my ordinary life should I allow to be exposed? How vulnerable to your thoughts should I be? Are the everyday happenings in my life even intriguing to you? Because that is exactly what they are, everyday ordinary events. It just so happens I'm living on a ship in Africa. It's no better or worse than the experiences you are having, just different.
So, would you like to hear about the dusty streets lined with food carts selling anything from eggs and loaves of bread, to mangos, bananas, and nuts? Do you want to learn about the Congolese culture - the art of hailing a taxi with a kissing noise or people dancing with this innate sense of rhythm. Should I share with you the unnerving way the health care system works or discuss how many people don't even receive care?
Should I tell you about the heart wrenching patient that slipped away a couple weeks before Christmas? How for days the staff worked tirelessly to provide comfort and prayed relentlessly for peace within her family. Do you want to know the internal struggle I faced, being on a ship full of hope but having a heart that was pleading for a quality of life for the child? It feels almost unfair for me to let you into my world of human doubt and question.
What about the holiday season on board the Africa Mercy? Would you like to hear about the number of traditions that were celebrated in an attempt to bring a piece of home to the crew who stayed on the ship? Countless activities filled the days leading up to Christmas, serving as welcomed distractions to celebrating on a ship halfway across the world. The cabin doors were decorated, the dining room filled with Christmas trees and snowflakes lined the hallways. Despite the hot and humid weather a Northeastern United States dweller, such as myself, is NOT used to - I have to admit, it did begin to feel a bit like Christmas. The Advent season was celebrated so openly as the crew came together each week for service. The children from the academy performed a play that spoke of the birth of Jesus. A portion of the Nutcracker was performed by a group of elegantly graceful dancers. A winter wonderland invaded the ship as Christmas crafts were created and treats and desserts were shared over lovely conversations. The Dutch crew members excitedly shared their Sinterklaas tradition while the Scandinavian crew delicately led us in singing as we celebrated Santa Lucia. The Aussie's spread the Christmas cheer as they helped create a beautiful Carols by Candlelight out on the dock - shared by crew members and patients.
Although I wasn't able to devour countless pieces of my mom's pepperoni bread or dig into my dad's carefully made antipasto, I had the blessing of spending time with my ship family. On Christmas Eve-Eve (yes you read it correctly), four of my friends and I piled into a land rover, rolled the windows down, and blasted country music from our ipods. We sped through the city as the sun slowly dipped lower and the stars began to reveal themselves. We ended up sinking our toes into the glowing sand as we watched the waves roll in and screamed like little girls when the water unexpectedly crashed over our feet as if we've never been wet before. Reflective conversations gently interrupted our own thoughts, as we shared our amazement of being in Africa - an unknown dream even just a year ago. Each of us was lost in our memories of home and our families celebrating traditions without us, but somehow I found peace on that moonlit beach. Despite my longing for home, I felt satisfied and safe. Feelings of insecurity and fear, anxiety about my unknown future and fears of not living up to expectations were somehow smothered. They were overtaken by the easy conversation and sincere encouragement from my friends. The unexpected feeling of being right where we were meant to be.
Christmas Eve I found my way to a wonderful Christmas Vigil down the street from the ship. Even if I wasn't sitting beside my family in the pew, I found comfort knowing that they would be hearing the same readings in just a few hours. After mass, I got back on board just in time for the Christmas Eve celebration with the crew. There's something to be said about a room full of individuals from around the world coming together to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas. It was quite special to hear Silent Night sung in French, Swedish, Dutch, Spanish, Norwegian, German, and English. It was another "only happens here" kind of moment.
Waking up on Christmas morning to a shoe full of cards and goodies was a new tradition I was more than happy to take part in. After a few friends and I read through every cherished card we slowly got ready for the day. The dining room staff had prepared a fabulous brunch - it was quite the feast actually. A time in which people could enjoy great conversation over an amazing meal. Following brunch, a few of us went to the nearby orphanage for a little Christmas party with the children. It was a day well spent - sharing the excitement of the younger children as they filled their arms with gifts and laughing with the older children while using our broken English and French aided by multiple hand gestures. The appreciation and joy that covered the face of "Mama Pascaline" as she carefully unwrapped, examined, and kissed each gift was something I will never forget.
So although I missed out on my niece and nephews tearing through Christmas wrapping paper and the delicious smells emanating from the Palomba kitchen, I was showered with love from selfless friends. Sure, I missed out on spending time with my family chatting it up around the dinner table but I was blessed with pancakes with my ship family the morning after our land rover joyride and was humbly present at our orphanage celebration. I am continuously reminded that I am right where I need to be.
