DRC – not just the Kivus!

As a first foray into the world of blogging, I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has been following my stories and especially to those who have taken the time to respond.

I have thoroughly enjoyed the process and am constantly surprised to find that people actually care about what I’m doing and take the time to learn a bit more about another part of the world. Who knew that a farm kid from northern Alberta could do what I’m doing and have the ability to impact not only the lives of the Congolese people who came to the MSF hospital but also those of you checking in from whichever corner of the world you find yourself living.

If you are interested in learning more about the DRC, there are 2 books that I have read and would strongly recommend.

King Leopold’s Ghost: A Story of Greed, Terror, and Heroism in Colonial Africa (Adam Hochschild 2006) is a well written account of the colonization of the Congo in the late 1800s. This book is read like a novel with main characters, a plot and a lot of intrigue and that is not a bad way to read about history. It touches everything from the scramble for the “dark continent” to the early days of colonial exploitation to the first ever global human rights campaign and it gave me fascinating insight into the not so distant past of the DRC.

Blood River: A Journey to Africa’s Broken Heart (Tim Butcher 2007), starts in the present and provides a very different view of modern day Congo by retracing the route used by H.M. Stanley when he discovered the Congo River and became the first European to cross the continent of Africa on foot. It is a combination of travelogue, adventure story and historical account and the author’s trip was completed in 2004, portraying a Congo very similar to the one that I found myself living in these past 6 months. This book bridges the gap between King Leopold’s Congo and the Congo of today and is a readable way to learn about a country with an incredibly complex past and just as confusing present.

Finally, please continue to visit www.msf.ca to get the latest on MSF, where we work and what we believe in.

Sincerely,
Grant Assenheimer

Photo: Grant A | Shamwana at first light

Time really does fly…certainly when you are having fun but also when you are working 12 hour days, 6-7 days a week! I landed in the Congo on December 8 and after an incredible 6 months, my second mission with MSF is drawing to a close. I first fly to Amsterdam for debriefings and then on to Canada where a very excited fiancée will be waiting for me at the airport.

I named my Blog “DRC…not just the Kivus” because there is so much more to the Congo than what you hear on the evening news. I have definitely learnt this first hand and hopefully my entries have also brought a greater awareness to your world as well.

In this true “post-conflict” setting, more and more organizations pull out as they lose funding or simply shift operations to the more news-worthy Kivu provinces. With a government unable or unwilling to take over, this leaves thousands in a vulnerable position as they struggle to find enough to eat, walk for days to seek medical care or drop out of school to work in the fields or to look after a sick parent. A vicious cycle and while I did not find any easy solutions over the past months, I was definitely exposed to the problem.

The DRC is rich in minerals, has huge hydro-electric potential, one of the largest rainforests in the world and a colonial past that shows what is actually possible in this vast country. However, the DRC remains one of the most undeveloped countries in the world and is one of the few that are literally moving backwards. This is a country where grandparents knew a more technological advanced era than their grandchildren. A country where national highways have been reduced to footpaths and are impassible during the rainy season. Where war and corruption have literally destroyed entire systems – transportation, post, telephone, electricity – systems that existed under the pre-independence Belgian colony and that have simply deteriorated until there is nothing left…

As I said, there are no easy solutions. I have spent the last 6 months being humbled, in total disbelief and yet full of awe. Thankful for what I get to go home to and shocked by the completeness of the poverty and the lack of potential I see in the coming years.

Some days, after repeating the rules for overtime to my drivers or counting bars of soap, I really felt like this job was just another job. Other days, I realize that this job is a wonderful combination of service and learning and that it is great to be part of an organization that is directly addressing real needs all over the world regardless of where the spotlight is currently shinning.

In the end, it is because of the work I did, the work that MSF does, that we are running a 55-bed hospital in the middle of the bush and are providing free health care to thousands or people who, without MSF, would have none at all. That is not just another job!

It is always a bit chaotic in the departure hall of the Lubumbashi international airport. I was waiting for the flight that would lift me away from Congolese soil and couldn’t help but to take in the scene.

There were a couple of bigger groups of Chinese and Indian men clustered together. Obviously workers from the mining sector and heading home after their latest rotation, they didn’t seem to speak any French and were constantly waiting for instructions from their Congolese counterparts.

There was one group of Americans that were, according to their matching hats, “On a Mission from God”. The women were all nicely dressed in bright Congolese wraps, likely given to them during a tearful farewell party after a few weeks in the country.

There was also a group of four, probably two fathers with their sons. Although I could not place them, things did not seem to be going so well. Their Congolese handler, his dirty white ball cap on lopsided and with a big gold dollar sign on the front, was making things worse by getting everyone excited and using an authority he clearly did not have.

There were also a few other humanitarian-types waiting patiently for the same flight and some African businessmen trying to look much more important and more in control than they probably were.

Travelling with MSF

While everything is relative, travelling with MSF is pretty great. I was picked up at the MSF house this morning and brought directly to the airport. I handed my passport, yellow fever card and airplane ticket to our liaison officer and he simply takes over. We scoot past the rather unofficial “pre-screening” process and I wait as he pushes his way to the front of the departure counter.

The process becomes very complicated and I enter a sort of obedient trance as I simply follow the instructions from the Liaison officer. Hold this. Fill this in. Put your bags here… and now here… and again here. He has done this countless times before and he expertly obtains the required signatures, validates my tickets, checks my bags and gets me ready for the flight. I cannot imagine doing this on my own!

While we wait, a fight breaks out near the main entrance as supporters from an arriving football team try to push past security. An airline official hand delivers my connecting ticket to Amsterdam, where I will stop by the MSF head quarters for debriefing. The liaison officer goes over to talk with a friend. My departure is announced, we shake hands and I quickly walk past the final authorities and out on to the tarmac… leaving the hectic airport and the equally chaotic Congo behind me.

When there is an emergency referral to the hospital, it always involves many people and often results in life-saving surgery. As the logistician, I normally send a car to collect the patient and then go back to my dinner. Last week, I was invited to observe one of these emergency surgeries and got to see firsthand the medical side of one such emergency.

Photo: Grant A | Surgery

Although our expat doctor is also a surgeon, it is sometimes easy to forget. Most of the time, he is just Dr. Auguste… a bit of a character, always smiling and a good friend and fellow teammate. On Friday night, I saw a different side of him. Not so much joking as he entered the operating room and emerged 3 hours later after extracting a still-born baby, removing a ruptured uterus and saving the life of the mother.

Photo: Grant A. | Dr. Auguste in action

It’s very technical

This was the first time I had seen anything remotely like this and I was suitably impressed. He really is a surgeon and I think I’ll definitely stick to logistics!

I had always wondered why we had so many different types of forceps and now I know. Makes the stock counts seem a bit more meaningful.

The batteries ran dead on the heart rate monitor so they just turned it off and went to get new ones. No problem. NO PROBLEM!?

A uterus is much bigger than I had imagined and it amazes me that you can simply remove this organ, sew everything back up and the body just adapts. Wow.

Halfway through, the generator ran out of fuel and suddenly everything went dark. This happened right in the middle of some pretty intense cutting. Someone fumbled around a bit, found a backup light and passed it to me…and the operation continued. A few minutes later, the generator roared back to life and everything resumed, just as though this was completely normal.

“I mean honestly, does that happen often?” I had to ask.

“No, no” Dr. August responded. “…but normally they at least give us a bit of warning. It must have caught them (the guards) a bit by surprise this time.”

Sheesh! I honestly never knew. By the end of the 3 hours, Dr. Auguste’s entire upper half was soaked with sweat, we had gone through 5 packages of sutures and, among other things, I had been shown the correct way to check and clean the intestines. I was exhausted and I didn’t even do anything so I can imagine how Auguste was feeling.

The good news?

The operation was a success and she is still alive. She’s already had 2 children and while that isn’t many here in the bush it is something.

The tragedy was that she came so late to the hospital and her child – at full term – was already dead when she showed up. If she would have only come sooner, we would have had a much better chance to save that life as well.

Ok… by “we” I mean Dr. Auguste. Respect. I have deep and utter respect for Dr. Auguste and those that are doing what he does. It is experiences like these that remind me just exactly what we are doing as a project and as an organization. This is what truly serves to justify our presence here and everywhere we work. We are a medical organization and we do save lives and alleviate suffering, as per the MSF mandate, each and every day.

Before coming to the DRC, I was told that the project would be in a remote and very isolated area. Visions of the rugged wind-swept landscape of northern Canada immediately came to mind. What a difference in what I find here!

My version

Ivavvik is a remote Canadian National Park in the very northeast corner of the Yukon Territory. Bordering the Artic Ocean, access is by boat or plane and less than 100 adventurers visit this park annually.

On the third day of a hiking trip through this national park, we climbed to the summit of a small mountain. The only sound was the wind whipping past our hoods. No trees, no animals, no apparent life…just barren tundra, stunted scrub and a jumble of caribou tracks left over from an annual migration that finished months before. Not even a bird. Looking out towards the horizon, there were icebergs and endless ocean for as far as we could see.

Absolutely spectacular in the amazing expanse of this nothingness. Makes you feel small and insignificant. I remember thinking that nature really doesn’t care. She’s been here for thousands of years and will be here for thousands more, regardless of what we do…

For me, that is isolation…that is remote.

In Shamwana

There really is life everywhere…

A new restaurant opened up at the far end of the market and we went out for dinner as a team a couple of nights ago. This was a first for Shamwana. The market is alive and growing. People are always coming and going. The streets are full of children, goats and chickens.

Photo: GrantA | Airstrip in the morning

Brick houses are being built and yards are swept daily. Kids are going to school. Traders arrive continuously pushing their bicycles and hawking everything from dried fish to flashlights. New churches keep popping up and their drums are forever ringing through the village. The local HF ‘phony’ allows people to stay in touch.

The football pitch is being cleared and there was even an MSF vs. Kisele match last weekend. At least 300 people came out to watch and to cheer on their favorite team. The atmosphere was fantastic and when MSF scored the villagers flooded the field in celebration.

Women head out in the early morning to tend their fields…a large bowl balanced on their heads, the youngest child strapped to their backs and the rest trailing along behind.

Photo: GrantA | Out for dinner

Life is not easy…but there is life everywhere. We are at least a full day’s drive to the nearest functioning airstrip. It takes weeks for supply trucks to arrive and the roads can hardly be considered more than paths. There is no telephone, no mobiles, no postal system. I haven’t seen the news in months and our satellite internet connection is our lifeline to the outside world.

…but this is a very different definition of remoteness that I find myself living in these days!