Waffa Trip

Witness by Denise Levertov

Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.

The start of this poem has run through my mind many times over the last year. Perhaps it’s the mountains that rise beyond the hospital, frequently covered in clouds in the afternoon. It can be easy to lose track of why I am here and get caught in the business of seeing patients. It can be helpful to have moments that help me to remember God’s calling, to see the mountain again. Visiting Waffa, one of our rural clinics, was one of those moments for me. It was both humbling and a joy to be able to work alongside the incredible nursing officers working in this area and to meet the hospitable people of Markam District.

 

Traveling to Waffa is in itself an adventure. It requires a 7.5-hour drive, wading across the Markam river, another 1-2 hour drive and crossing another river (by innertube or wading). After crossing the Markam river, we crossed several smaller streams and rivers as we traveled deeper into the bush. Grasslands turned to rainforest with high canopies above. I glimpsed wild hornbills and cockatoos as our car pulled underneath the trees. Partway through the trip, Gabriel, our director of Rural Health Services, leaned over to me and said, “This car doesn’t have any breaks. He just puts it into reverse to slow it down on the hills.” I just had to smile to myself and think about what my mother would say.

 

Walking into Waffa we were greeted enthusiastically. Some of the older members of the village sang and danced in their traditional way and we were showered with flowers as our team entered through new gateways of palm leaves. Then the younger villagers sang an English song welcoming us again. This display was humbling, and I hoped that we could live up to some of their expectations.

 

Our team consisted of me, Dr Spencer-a local PNG doctor and close friend, Gabriel Mahisu-the director of Rural Health Services, Peter Bill-a local Markam leader and his son Joel. While we were there, the family of one of the local Nazarene pastors made us lunch and dinner every day. We enjoyed kumu (greens from different plants including various trees and, my favorite, pumpkin leaves/vines), potatoes, bananas, rice, corn, and coconuts. We slept in the newly constructed staff housing on thin mattresses with which we had waded across the rivers. A newly constructed pit toilet was next to the clinic, and we obtained our water from the stream a few hundred yards away.

 

The first morning we wondered if we would have very many patients to see because no one was there at 8am. However, by 10 several hundred people had gathered outside. Over the next two and a half days, with the help of three incredible nursing officers, Kenny, Felix and Siba, we saw most of those patients. We had a large variety of patients from antenatal checks to malaria to yaws to a broken arm. We also had a few mysteries, patients we needed to refer to the hospital for further tests or imaging. Part of our time included a Covid education talk with the community.

 

Each night we would go wash in the river. We were accompanied by some local boys who showed us the best spots to go. One of them, Guam, became a close friend. We played together in the river and juggled his soccer ball on the field near the clinic. On our last day he woke up very early to go catch some fish from his family fishpond so that Spencer and I could eat fish before we left. His mother told me that he got really upset because he was having a hard time catching the fish, but eventually he found a net and was able to catch two. They were delicious. He and his family came with us back to Markam to visit relatives. On the car ride out he fell asleep on my leg (impressive given the road).

 

Our final morning, we spent time doing some education with the nursing officers. A maternity ward is currently being built next to the clinic. Currently, most of the women deliver their babies at home. There are no nearby supportive services and complications are often deadly. We taught normal vaginal deliveries as well as common complications like postpartum hemorrhage (too much bleeding after delivery), breech delivery (when the bottom comes first) and shoulder dystocia (when the shoulder get stuck). Spencer also gave a short talk on Yaws, a bacterial infection of the skin and bone, a disease that seems to still be endemic in this area. Finally, we got to pray with and offer encouragement to this team. They provide such an incredible resource for this community and rarely get the recognition they deserve.

 

Coming out was as much of an adventure as going in. We crossed the first river to catch a vehicle going out at 1pm. By 6:45 we had still not seen this vehicle, but we managed to find another car that was able to take us out. We arrived at the Markam river and crossed in the dark. Thankfully it was not high. The next day we loaded up our car with mangoes and coconuts and started the long drive back to Kudjip.

 

I am so thankful for my time with the people of Waffa. My trip renewed my love for the people here in PNG, and it was a good reminder of the level of adversity my patients face every day. Guam touched my heart and I miss his trusting friendship. The people up Waffa helped me to glimpse the mountain again, as Denise Levertov says:

“to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.”