Ai Ko Nay Dushit (I am going Home)

Early this morning, I woke up and opened the door to find Kalomere the sheep and three goats all lying outside my room.  The black goat which had been goading the sheep gave up a very obnoxious goat smell which permeated the cool morning air.  The stars were more plentiful now that the moon has waned.  In one corner there was a hint of the Milky Way but the light pollution prevented it from being visible.  As I pondered over my time here all of a sudden a shooting star came whizzing by across the sky.

Sunset at Bai-Suba

Today would be my last day in Lunsar.  I know I am nearing the end of my stay by virtue of the fact that I am low on my medications and my sunscreen is almost all gone. I packed up and found three big empty plastic bottles which I was reluctant to see them ending up in the pile of trash in a corner in Bai-Suba. Trash especially plastics is a huge problem here.  I have tried to reuse the bottles by replenishing my water from the water cooler in the ETC but at St. John there was no water cooler. I walked out and found some laborers who had been working at building drains, always under the unforgiving searing heat of the sun.  I was a little embarrassed about giving them such meager offerings as some empty bottles but these attracted the attention of quite a few of them.  It made me feel very bad inside that they were so happy to receive such small things like an empty bottle to use as containers for water and I could only make three of them happy.  Life is hard.

I was heading to Freetown after spending time in the Screening and Referral Unit (SRU) at St. John in the morning.  I went to pay a visit to the starving infant and to bring water to the mother, only to learn the sad news from one of the nurses that she died last evening.  The mother sat on the bench quietly, staring blankly into space; she no longer had any tears to shed.  The ward where the baby was had been emptied of patients.  Through the screened window I could see the baby swaddled in a wrapper lying all alone in the big bed.  Death seems to be so common place among the little ones here. They have to dodge a gauntlet of circumstances of poverty and diseases trying to survive the period of infancy. Yesterday afternoon she was still suckling seemingly with some relish and then her short life was suddenly ended.  Her mother would not be permitted to hold or hug her for the last time.  The rule of the Ebola outbreak dictates that any death calls for the burial team to take away the body to be buried; there is to be no traditional burial rites. I said good-bye to the WASH and triage teams at St. John. Three of the triage members are from Nigeria and they represent the African Union.

Sign for Safe Burial

At the ETC, I went around saying my farewell to the medical and kitchen staff, pharmacy and the WASH team.  There was only one patient in the Confirmed Ward and five in the Suspected Ward. Even half of the patients in the Suspected Ward had been ruled out for Ebola but had not been discharged.  Indeed this past week, there were no new confirmed cases.  Similarly in Makeni their patient census has been down and the staff who had been sent there to help, had all returned back to Lunsar. 

Ishmael died last night; the four-year-old ultimately did not win his battle against Ebola despite having a negative test for Ebola after three weeks of sickness.  With his death, his mother, Aminata, only had one child left having lost three in a span of three weeks. Ebola continues to create miseries and breaks up families and communities.  

Sunset at Lumley Beach in Freetown