6x6
-Welcome to the Hospital-[From 3 August]
6am – Bongo flava beats blasting from the TV, the first person we meet is a grieving woman – her stomach cut open by a caesarean section, her heart by the loss of her barely born child. Three beds up and across the aisle, two young girls huddle for security against their grandmother. “Some stupid man raped these little ones,” tells me. We pray. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. All of this before breakfast. . .
6pm – “PETRO!” A familiar voice in a sea of unfamiliarity and pain. Consolata and others have come to celebrate the birth of a friend’s new baby. There is more than enough laughter and rejoicing to go around. Someone suggests that they name the little guy after me. I’m not so sure that they were joking. . .
6am – A visit to the Psych Ward. ‘Jafeth’ and ‘David.’ Jafeth, “compelled by Christ himself,” burned down his house. In Ob/Gyn, a spirit is blocking a woman’s healing. I don’t even blink as Haule begins, “Shuka! Shuka! Shuka!” Around the periphery of the room, old women pray under their breath. It sounds like Pentecost.
6pm – Prayers in the Annex with a group of women, one of whom is preparing for surgery and receives extra prayer support. The following day when we learn that the woman lost her child due to complications, Haule is visibly crushed. “I don’t have the strength to see her,” is all he can muster to say.
6am – Jafeth’s mother calls us back to the Psych Ward. “He is speaking.” Still intellectually skeptical, all I can say is that even I could clearly see that something else was looking out through this young man’s eyes. The Exorcism begins promptly. Coughing, Twisting, and Writhing followed by peace and calm. “The demon remains but he has been contained for now.”
Leaving the gated ward, Haule points to a man in a tattered blue sweater pacing in circles. “This man died and was buried in the ground for seven years,” Haule tells me casually, “Then, one day, he came back to curse his father, a wizard. Somethings even I don’t understand . . .” His voice trails off as we exit the Hospital Compound under a bright sky that can only be called Iringa blue.
6am – Bongo flava beats blasting from the TV, the first person we meet is a grieving woman – her stomach cut open by a caesarean section, her heart by the loss of her barely born child. Three beds up and across the aisle, two young girls huddle for security against their grandmother. “Some stupid man raped these little ones,” tells me. We pray. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. All of this before breakfast. . .
6pm – “PETRO!” A familiar voice in a sea of unfamiliarity and pain. Consolata and others have come to celebrate the birth of a friend’s new baby. There is more than enough laughter and rejoicing to go around. Someone suggests that they name the little guy after me. I’m not so sure that they were joking. . .
6am – A visit to the Psych Ward. ‘Jafeth’ and ‘David.’ Jafeth, “compelled by Christ himself,” burned down his house. In Ob/Gyn, a spirit is blocking a woman’s healing. I don’t even blink as Haule begins, “Shuka! Shuka! Shuka!” Around the periphery of the room, old women pray under their breath. It sounds like Pentecost.
6pm – Prayers in the Annex with a group of women, one of whom is preparing for surgery and receives extra prayer support. The following day when we learn that the woman lost her child due to complications, Haule is visibly crushed. “I don’t have the strength to see her,” is all he can muster to say.
6am – Jafeth’s mother calls us back to the Psych Ward. “He is speaking.” Still intellectually skeptical, all I can say is that even I could clearly see that something else was looking out through this young man’s eyes. The Exorcism begins promptly. Coughing, Twisting, and Writhing followed by peace and calm. “The demon remains but he has been contained for now.”
Leaving the gated ward, Haule points to a man in a tattered blue sweater pacing in circles. “This man died and was buried in the ground for seven years,” Haule tells me casually, “Then, one day, he came back to curse his father, a wizard. Somethings even I don’t understand . . .” His voice trails off as we exit the Hospital Compound under a bright sky that can only be called Iringa blue.
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Day in and Day out, the life of the Chaplains serving the Government Hospital in town is dictated by 6 and 6. Fulltime Pastoral Care positions are unheard of here. An hour in the morning, an hour in the evening, and a fulltime position at a local congregation is the norm. The pace is grueling and intensity unrelenting.
How Haule and others manage to keep going is beyond me. I stand in awe and admiration. Too, it leads me to wonder –both here and elsewhere – who takes care of the caregivers?
How Haule and others manage to keep going is beyond me. I stand in awe and admiration. Too, it leads me to wonder –both here and elsewhere – who takes care of the caregivers?
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