There is a universal principle of childhood physics that we all remember
well: the joy of spinning in circles. Perhaps it was spinning while
locking hands with a playmate, in a teacup at Disney World, dancing in
pirouettes, or simply turning in place – it was a thrill to send our
surroundings into a kaleidoscopic blur. This was followed by a dizzy fit
of giggles – at least until our internal compasses caught up, and the
world came back into focus. Do you remember?
Four years ago, a little girl named Jaka was spinning around in circles
with some other children while her mother was at the market. Around and
around, arms out, chin up, her face full of smiles. Tragically, when
Jaka lost her balance, she plummeted into her aunt’s cooking fire. Jaka
landed in the burning coals on her left side with her arm up. The pot of
boiling water her aunt had prepared for rice spilled over the little
girl’s shoulders, arms and back.
Fanta, Jaka’s mother, ran home from the market and took her daughter to a
local hospital in Conakry. In order to be seen by doctors, the hospital
required a payment of 1.5 million Guinea Francs at the gate – just over
$200. The family could not afford admission. Fanta returned home with
Jaka, unable to ease her daughter’s agony. For the next eight months,
Jaka laid on her little stomach, tethered to the ground by unimaginable
pain. Each day, her mother fanned her, trying to offer Jaka whatever
relief she could from the inescapable African heat.
As
Jaka’s burns healed without medical care or rehabilitation, her left
shoulder and arm contracted. Jaka’s skin began to grow back in such a
way that her arm became stuck to her side from her armpit to elbow.
Fanta feared that Jaka would lose the ability to move her arm. Still
unable to afford any medical treatment, Fanta tried to treat the problem
herself.
Fanta forced Jaka’s arm away from her side three times, trying to
prevent the contracture. Fanta described each attempt, saying that she
and Jaka both cried themselves to exhaustion. On the fourth try, Jaka
begged her mother to stop because the pain was so unbearable. “If you
try to pull it open again, I will die. The pain will kill me,” Jaka said
to her mother. With that, Fanta resigned herself to allowing Jaka’s arm
to heal on its own, stuck to her side.
Today, 9-year-old Jaka is a patient on the Africa Mercy hospital
ship, recovering from a free plastic surgery that released her arm and
grafted skin. Deep burn marks cover her entire upper body – her head,
neck, shoulders, back and arms – but no one notices because they are
entranced by the little girl’s adorable gap-toothed smile.
Sweeping, washing and fighting – these are the activities Jaka says she
will get to do with her restored arm. Laundry might not be appealing to
many, but participating in household chores is a normalcy Jaka has never
known. “I am so happy,” Jaka says. “When I go home, I will work all the
time because I can.” (Fanta admits she is glad for this enthusiasm.)
Free of her deformity, Jaka will also now be able to go to school for
the first time.
As for fighting, Jaka is one of ten children, and she happens to be very
ticklish. With her new arm, she will be able to hold her own the next
time she is picked on by one of her older brothers or sisters. She was
ashamed to go among her siblings and friends when her arm was stuck to
her side because they would tease her. “Now they will see me and say,
‘Jaka has become well!’” she declares. Then they will invite her to sit
with them and watch the cars go by their house.
From her hospital bed, Jaka is all giggles – she can hardly contain her
excitement for her now-bright future of playing, going to school and
watching cars. But Jaka’s favorite part about her restorative surgery
and rehabilitation is even simpler than that: “Clapping!” she exclaims.
With her arm free, Jaka can finally clap with both hands.
Now there’s a happy ending worthy of applause.
Written by Catherine Clarke Murphy
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