Yesterday morning I woke, just like many days. A little out
of it, convinced I need just 15 more minutes of sleep… in short not a single
bone in my body is that of a “morning person.” Nunu on the other hand hops out
of bed and is in the bathroom brushing his teeth. He leaves the room to check
and see what the day brings and what everyone is up to. I wake up enough to
read and send him on his way. He is going into town to check in on some school
things.
I lay in bed reading and get a text message from Julie. She
has been throwing up and Adriano went to Tanzania (something to do with his
visa), so Julie has called Ida (one of our cooks who is SO great with all the
kids) to help her look after Samuel today. But until Ida arrives, she has
Sumate watching Samuel. She just wanted me to keep an eye on him too.
I open my door and Samuel is out on the porch asleep in
Sumate arms. Safe and sound, he is oblivious to the fact that his mom isn’t
feeling good. Just a happy sleeping baby.
I also notice that Juma P. is sitting outside, which is odd
because he is supposed to be at school in the morning. He tells me he is hungry
but this is beyond normal for him, usually he says this to me 1 hour before
dinner, or even just after we ate. I’m never sure if he is actually hungry or
just bored and seeing if he can get a piece of bread from me. It’s one of those
things that sounds simple… just give him a piece of bread. But I learned on my
first trip that it quickly turns into a daily thing and then other kids try to
join in too. Yet another one of those strange things that sounds so simple, but
it leaves me unsure of how to act.
I leave my door open and start to work on my computer. I
check emails and all that stuff that my MiFi (wireless internet) allows me to
do. Juma sits about three feet from my door he just stares at me. As my mind is
fighting to catch up with my awake body, I realize that this is strange. I
realize that I have a banana in my cabinet from dinner last night and I give
that to Juma. I ask Sumate why Juma is home from school and find out he has a
headache. I feel his body and sure enough he is warm.
In this moment his health issues don’t even faze me. I go
into my room to see what kind of head ache medicine I have. I find Extra
Strength Tylenol, Aspirin and a Multi-Symptom cold medicine for children. Even
though Juma is about 9, he is the size of a 4 year old. So I have to try to
figure out what I would give a 4 year old. My thought is to go with the
Mulit-symptom because Juma’s nose is running and he was coughing two nights
ago. But since Julie is here, I go to get her opinion.
She says I could cut down some of the other medicine but in
the end she agrees with the Mulit-symptom is probably the best thing for Juma.
As I am on my way out of Julie’s house, Pedro shows up at the door, “Come!
Come!” he says. Pedro approaches me like this at least once a week, he is my
boy who cries wolf.
I follow him wondering what random thing he is going to show
me today, when I look up and see Juma seizing on the porch! I run over, lucky
he is laying on a Mozambican bed and Sumate was near him.
I’ve never witnessed a seizure before, but I always imagined
them to be a lot more violent. Juma was lying on his side and it looked like he
was rocking to a music beat, but rather than just his head his whole body was
rocking to the beat. My mind starts racing and I tell Sumate to make sure Juma
doesn’t fall off the bed and make sure his head doesn’t hit anything.
I run back and tell Julie and she says we need to get his
body temperature down with a cool bath and get him to take the medicine. I ask
Izack to get me a bucket of water, but our well is almost empty again, which
means we have no running water and he has to pull it out with a bucket. I start
taking Juma’s shirt off and sure enough, his little body is so hot. Much hotter
than when I felt his head less than 10 minutes before.
I ask some of the boys to find a pair of Juma’s short or
underwear, but no one can find anything. That’s when I realize that he has
shorts on under his pants (it’s very common for young children to go without
underwear here). Latino is helping to get Juma’s pants off and I go into my
room and grab a washcloth. Izack returns with a bucket of water and I put the
first cloth on Juma’s forehead.
By this time he is crying and his nose is running and he no
longer looks like a 9 year old trapped in a 4 year olds body, but rather I am
staring into the eye of a confused and scared infant.
Latino gets Juma’s pants off; only to realize that he has
sweat pants on under them!! I roll the pant legs up and apply another washcloth
to his belly. Latino is speaking to him in Macua for me, even though I speak to
Juma in English and he is fluent in Portuguese, I figure the Mother tongue is
the best. Latino keeps telling me, “He can’t hear, his ears are closed.”
I realize this medicine isn’t going to happen and resolve to
let him sleep and change the washclothes every few minutes. We call his mother
to let her know what has happened. I just wanted her to know what had happened
and that we were taking care of Juma. Of course she could come, but Latino told
her she had to come… communication.
Juma sleeps for about an hour, I sit on the bed with him. At
first I wanted to hold him but I instantly felt his body temperature go up and
so I slid him down so he could use my leg as a pillow. I had to change the
washclothes less and less. He was cooling off and now it’s time to get him to
take the grape flavored medicine.
In the last year Juma has been poked and prodded more than
most adults are in their entire lifetime. And for that reason I completely
understand his aversion to medicine. So I try encouraging him as lovingly as I
know how, trying to explain what’s going on and that this will help to cool his
body off.
The medicine finally goes down and I can see that he is
surprised at how good it taste, as I myself have problems taking medication
from the Pharmacy here. They are usually horse pills with no coating and since
Juma’s small they are cut in half… yuck!
He falls back to sleep and I think we are in the clear. I
stare at this little body that is covered in little marks, scabs that he
picked. Like he had the chicken pocks and picked at every single pock. I know
that many of these are bug bites, but some he says are a reaction to the
Penicillin injections he was getting while he had Phenomena. Juma is so small,
how is it that such a little body has had to go through so much. How much more
can this little body handle? How many more of these seizures will he have
before Doctors can tell us more than, “Watch his sugar intake and don’t let him
get to hot.” What is God’s plan in all of this?
Then his mom, Cifa, shows up. I am horrible at reading body
language here but to me she appears upset, but it could have been concern. She
comes and sits next to us touches Juma and shortly after pulls him off of my
lap and cradles him in her arms.
Over and over and through different people, I try to explain
that we need to keep his body temperature down. I try to show what I’ve been doing
with the washclothes, but it’s obvious she doesn’t understand what I mean. She
actually even covers him up with a capalana (piece of fabric). I get it though,
it’s cultural. In Mozambique people think their children will get sick if they
don’t have on a hat and long sleeves in 70 or even 75 degrees! From what I can
tell in Mozambique when you feel sick, you put on more clothes. It explains why
Juma had on 2 pairs of pants and how his mother is reacting.
I resolve to flip and rewet the clothes a few more times and
then head back to my room. Then I check on him every hour or so, until
eventually is see him sitting up and eating. But I also see him putting on a
long sleeve shirt, and I’m not sure how to react.
I was thinking Juma was in the clear but around four or five
someone tells me that Cifa wants to take Juma to the hospital to have a malaria
test done, as they have already told us all they know. Which is, “Watch his
sugar intake and don’t let him get to hot.” I go out and feel him and sure
enough he is hot again. Cifa puts Juma on her back and ties him in with a
capalana, as many mothers do with their young children. I send them on their
way with one washcloth tucked in around the collar of Juma’s shirt and the
other in his mother’s hand.
I retreat into my room. I’m exhausted. I think more than
anything it’s just the emotions that go with a day like today. It’s also tiring
feeling helpless and not knowing. All the questions just exhaust me.
Last night I never heard anything about the hospital visit,
but today I open my door to a hyper active Juma. As if all the energy he should
have used yesterday was stored under his bed and this morning when he woke up
he pulled it out and added it to today’s dose of energy. I’ve seriously never
seen Juma so hyper. I’ve also never seen such a dramatic 180 over night.
I think the thing that makes this SO hard is that we are
alone in this. The doctors here in Pemba basically have no clue what is going
on. All we can do is endure and do our best to make Juma comfortable.
I’m planning to make an emergency medical kit especially for
Juma, with everything from a pair of short and washcloth to children’s Tylenol.
I’m starting to feel like a broken record, but please just be praying for this
little body. If you review some of my most recent posts, you’ll get a better
idea of his needs, but feel free to ask questions.
Thanks as always for your love and support.
Oh and here is a picture of Juma...
