Today's post has been reblogged from "Through My Porthole". On my bucket list - some day, some where in Africa - is going to a dress ceremony!
As I sat at my desk writing Hoanaky’s story, the sweet lilting
sound of African voices drifted up the ship’s stairwells from the
hospital deck. Irresistibly drawn below, I encountered a sight that
reminds me of all the reasons I have served with Mercy
Ships for almost 3 decades. A cluster of tiny Malagasy women recovering
from their obstetric fistula (OBF) surgeries were singing, clapping,
swaying their way along the corridor. I understood enough to recognise Thank you Jesus and I’m very happy, but there was no misinterpreting the utter joy radiating from each beautiful face, young and old.
This is one woman’s story which echoes in the lives of thousands of her sisters.
Hoanaky labored hard for four days in her remote village in
Madagascar’s far south. Exhausted, she finally delivered a still-born
baby. Hoanaky’s loss was compounded by the impact of her traumatic
delivery. The prolonged pressure of the baby’s head caused the wasting
of internal muscle and tissue, creating an abnormal opening between her
bladder and birth canal. Hoanaky had developed an obstetric fistula. At
the age of 26, she was permanently incontinent.
This gentle woman became shrouded in hopelessness. Neither Hoanaky
nor her mother had ever heard of another woman with this condition.
There was nowhere to turn for help.
Life as she knew it ended. In a nation when incontinence products are
practically unheard of, Hoanaky’s injury made it impossible to go about
her day-to-day activities. She leaked urine uncontrollably and smelled
terrible. “I was always staying at home. I could never go to the market
or anywhere,” she recalls. “I didn’t have a life anymore.” Ashamed,
Hoanaky sequestered herself in the thatched hut she shares with her
mother and daughter.
Months later Hoanaky’s mother heard talk that perhaps Mercy Ships
could help her daughter. Together they attended a patient screening.
Hoanaky received an appointment and transportation to the far-away
hospital ship on the coast.
Hoanaky journeyed with two ladies from her region for five days. As
time passed they told shared stories and the three realised they had a
similar tale to tell. Suddenly Hoanaky was no longer isolated by the
belief she was the ‘only one’.
When the trio reached the Mercy Ship they embarked on a journey to
healing. Free obstetric fistula surgery mended their physical injuries,
and the compassionate medical team encouraged the recovering women in
regaining confidence. The gentle, fun-loving nurses nurtured each broken
woman towards rediscovering they are “beautifully and wonderfully
made.”
Mercy Ships holds a celebration for each group of women ready to head
home; a Dress Ceremony. Each restored woman accepts a brand new outfit
symbolizing her new beginning. For many this is the solitary time they
have ever possessed first-hand clothes, and the elation radiates from
their faces.
“Without the surgery I would be like a person already dead. Now I
will live like everybody, like I have a normal life!” Hoanaky declares
with delight.
Hoanaky and her friends had received their longed-for opportunity to begin again.
Hoanaky’s plight is echoed by
200 girls and women each day
who developed obstetric fistulas in sub-Sahara
Africa and Asia,
The establishment of a fistula clinic in Madagascar
is part of the Mercy Ships strategy
to
bring sustainable healthcare to this nation.
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