What Would You Do?

If right now you fell down and broke your arm, what would you do? Think about it for a minute. If you’re an American (or a citizen of a developed country), you’d probably be on your cell phone within seconds calling for help, or someone close to you would immediately take you to a nearby hospital. The hospital would be clean and efficient. You might have to wait a bit in the waiting room. Even if you had no money, the hospital would be legally obligated to treat you in the emergency room.

In Cameroon, things are different. Recently, one of our little boys named Modeste (11) broke his arm. Modeste is a tiny child. It seems as though he’s grown little more than an inch in the past four years. He’s an orphan. We provide lodging, food, and schooling (private) for Modeste and five other orphans who live with their Grandmother, Anastasie. They’re one of our “outreach families.” Her littlest orphan, Olga, lives in our orphanage.

Last week, Grandma Anastasie gave me a desperate call to let me know that Modeste had broken his arm. She called a few days after the accident. She said that their “traditional massages” were not working, and that she felt he needed to go to a hospital. Traditional massages? I can only imagine the agony Modeste went through as his broken arm was twisted and squeezed with no anesthetic.

We immediately arranged for Modeste to go to a hospital in spite of my reservations concerning the hospitals in Yaoundé. Normally, they’re filled with crowds of hopeless and impatient people waiting to be treated. They’re filthy, unorganized, and alarmingly inefficient.

However pathetic the “hospitals” may be, if one has enough money, one can obtain a higher quality of whatever is needed, as is the case with everything in Yaoundé. Those who cannot pay are not so lucky.

People without the funds for treatment are booted out the door. People die constantly after being kicked out, especially children. Grandma Anastasie was sent to the hospital in our minibus with an adequate amount of funding. We made sure they would be received and treated.

Modeste was examined and a cast was placed on his arm. Modeste’s agony was over.

But the question still haunts me: What do people do in situations like this in Cameroon? The average Cameroonian family brings in about $40 a month, if that. Modeste’s treatment exceeded this amount by far. What do impoverished Cameroonians do?? I’m afraid the answer is simple.

They suffer. They die.

Knowing that this situation is due entirely to corruption sickens me.

Grandma Anastasie is lucky to be a member of the Green Eyes in Africa family. She has somewhere to turn when in need. But other children who break limbs, the millions of kids out there without anything more than a shirt on their back, the thousands of children I see every day working in the dangerous traffic, selling things…what about them? Knowing that this needless suffering stems from corruption, it saddens me greatly.

It’s alarming how much we take for granted if we come from a country where things “work.” In spite of the many flaws in developed countries, they work. Modeste would not have had to endure the torture of “traditional massage.”

I’m happy that we were able to help little Modeste. He’s a good boy, always obedient and kind. But instead of having a good feeling about assisting this one boy, I find myself thinking of the others. The other children out there have no Green Eyes in Africa. We plan on growing and expanding, but it still won’t be enough. It’s an overwhelming thought.

With a corrupt government that robs any enterprise that begins to succeed, that sabotages the efforts of intelligent entrepreneurs who could make a difference, things won’t change anytime soon.

So once again, I mentally pick up my most useful fashion accessory: My horse blinders. I like to compare myself to a horse with blinders on the sides of my head, blocking out distractions that could scare me, make me jumpy, or worse, discourage me.

With these blinders on, I think of Modeste, who is healing and out of pain. I think of Grandma Anastasie who is at peace knowing her precious grandchild is sleeping through the night. They’re all I can see, for now. I smile.

Grandma Anastasie wrote us a letter, in spite of the fact that she does not know how to read or write. She went to the trouble to find someone who’s lucky enough to have these skills. It’s handwritten in pen with perfect handwriting. I’m assuming it took a few drafts to complete. This effort is an example of why I stay in Cameroon even though it emotionally strangles me on a regular basis:

Dear Green Eyes in Africa,

I have an enormous joy to come before you and express my immense gratitude for your kindness. I express thanks for what you do for my family in general and particularly what you have done for my grandson, Modeste, who recently broke his arm.

He broke his arm at school during recess while playing with friends. After breaking his arm, it was very swollen. We tried to heal him with traditional African massages, but the arm just kept swelling and swelling.

This is why I’m writing to say thank you for your big hearts. I am so happy to see that his arm is going to heal quickly. Once again, thank you with all my heart. I am without words to express my joy and thanks. I ask that God, high above, give you longevity, prosperity, happiness, and above all the money to be able to continue to help those in need.

Thank you,

La Grand-Mere Anastasie

PS: Cameroon being what it is, Grandma Anastasie came to our house two days ago. She was entirely upset. Her neighbors have accused her of stealing a television and other items from their home. They accused her of doing this on the day she was at the hospital with Modeste. She asked me for the x-rays and hospital papers to take to the police the next day where she had to defend herself against the accusing neighbors.

Why are they accusing her?

Because she has the good fortune of being assisted by a non-profit with “foreigners” who visit her house. Instead of being happy for this Grandmother who has lost so much, suffered so much, and cares for SIX orphans, they resent and hate her. This isn’t the first time we’ve had to defend her—we’ve even had to change her living location before. I try and avoid being too “public” for this reason. This is Cameroon—it really is a dog-eat-dog-survivalist environment. I’m familiar with it. That’s what poverty and desperation create. But it angers me when people like Grandma Anastasie are the victims.

Horse Blinders….Glad we’re here to defend her! 