Going Home

For the past three months, I would walk through the wards and sitting patiently on her bed, Korea, would wait for me to hold the wheelchair steady as she placed her lappa on the seat and crawled into it. The wheelchair has no working breaks and flat tires, so Korea needed help to get past the heavy brown doors of orange ward every morning. My morning routine will change because Korea is going home. I will miss my little pady, but am happy to see that she is finally dry and no longer leaking urine or feces. Korea has been through so much as she waited for expert surgeons, endured a major surgery and long recovery. She has been faithful in doing her own exercises and now her contracted legs are almost straight. For now, she is going home with her Aunty, but I pray that we will continue to see her as she comes back for physical therapy and follow-up in the coming months.  

Fatmata & her mother at Gladi gladi. 

Fatmata, another pady of mine, took over my Temne lessons after my first teacher, Mariatu, went home. Everyday during camp, I would move the ladies that were scheduled for surgery; from the classroom to one of the main wards. Fatmata would wait for me to call her name, but I never did because she was on the schedule for post-camp. It was hard to explain to her in Temne, why I did not call her name. I would say “soon soon” and she would smile and give me a hug and say “Tanto Cooloo”, thanks to God. The first day I had in the OR was the day Fatmata had her surgery. I held her hand as she sat still for the spinal and within an hour, I was taking care of her in recovery.  Two weeks later, we celebrated with singing and dancing, that Fatmata was dry and going home. 

Sallay, Mamie, Mabinty, Isatu and Kauta.

This past Saturday, my friends and I made a trip to town to eat at Crown Bakery and do some shopping. There were four of us waiting for a ride at Aberdeen when a poda poda pulls up and we decide this was the best option to get to our meeting point. We squeeze into the van with about 20 other people trying to get to Freetown. Sitting on one of the metal benches, I arrange my bag on my lap, and I hear “Allis Allis” coming from another passenger. I look up and in front of me, is Kauta, in her gladi gladi dress. Smiles breakout on both of our faces as we recognize each other and realize the milestone for her. I can’t explain the joy I felt- she probably has not been able to use public transport since the fistula formed two years ago. In Krio, I asked her “Use part you da go?” She responds, “Kingtom, going home.”