Hello, everyone. I have a problem when it comes to thinking about my faith.
One thing theists and atheists have always seemed to agree on is the idea that a person ought to believe what he does for a reason. Everyone agrees on this so strongly that no one I have ever met seems to question it at all; the idea of supported, reasonable belief is so obvious that no one even discusses it.
Yet I am not convinced.
(I see the irony of such an inquiry into the reasonableness of reason itself. If I claim that I do not believe in reason, then I will have to stop trying to support my claims at all, it seems. To do so would require reason. But I will make an attempt.)
The universe is full of matter and energy and things behaving in certain ways and causing other things to behave in their ways. Understanding the goings-on of this universe requires some investigation and learning. But something with a brain can start to notice patterns and see causes and effects, then use this to predict what will happen under similar patterns and with similar causes. This thinking is not always a higher-level or conscious function. Ants manage to carry things (largely by instinct), which requires some instinctive understanding of physics. They know, consciously or not, that if they pick something up and walk, the thing will accompany them.
However, if you put them in an area outside their experience, their conclusions about the world do not pan out. An ant would become as profoundly frustrated as an ant-brain can be by a laser point, which would probably appear as a thing to be picked up but would defy all attempts at carrying it. (Even cats do not understand that a laser point is not a real object, as many funny Youtube videos will demonstrate.)
In fact, an ant's brain may or may not be capable of understanding the concept of something like a laser point that appears real but is not. (Perhaps they are; surely somewhere in their instinct is experience with points of light on a jungle floor, for example. But the idea remains whether they do or do not understand laser points, specifically.) My point is, their brains are simply incapable of understanding very complex concepts. Their patterning of neurons just cannot deal with some ideas.
The set of things an ant "knows" and finds "logical" might or might not hold if it were moved to a more complex scenario. For example, an ant "knows" that if it steps off a tree branch, it falls. If placed in zero-gravity, the ant would not be able to make the leap of understanding and realize that this, too, is logical and reasonable. The smartest ant that ever lived could not. Many generations of ants could not. They would remain befuddled.
The same is true of a cat. A cat can understand cause-and-effect and even perhaps some emotions. But it cannot understand calculus. Cat brains just don't have the wiring to get it. A cat's brain would not be equipped to handle the dynamics of movement in deep water or in zero gravity; cats are land animals. Their sense of what is true or logical or reasonable is a product of their evolution and does not encompass all the experiences the universe can offer.
In other words, there are parts of the universe that do not and will not ever make sense to an ant's brain or a cat's brain. So in essence, my conundrum is this: why are we all then convinced that the universe's workings lie in that narrow range of complexity that a human brain can understand?
The universe clearly is not accessible to an ant's brain, or a cat's brain, or a lobster's brain. Why do we suppose it is accessible to ours?
It would seem extremely unlikely that the universe is just complex enough to be accessible in its every fact to the brains of the hominids that evolved on the third planet from one of the billions of stars in one of the billions of galaxies that exist. To believe that we will someday understand it all, or ever could, just does not make sense to me.
The implications have shaken me as I have thought them through in the last few months. If humans cannot understand all things about the universe, then there must exist at least one thing about the universe that will eternally be inscrutable to us no matter how hard we try.
In other words, facts are out there that will always seem wrong and false and illogical to us. After all, what does it mean when we say that something is logically true? We mean that we reasoned it out by making logical leap after logical leap, none of which set off the "untrue warning bell" feeling in our brains. Or maybe we simply got the "true" sensation about this particular fact from the beginning.
Where did we get our sense of logic or truth or our untrue warning bell? Is it not the result of the environment our brains grew up in?
In fact, that is exactly what we have seen. Our brains evolved in Newtonian mechanics. But over the last couple of hundred years, small discrepancies started to appear. Our sensation of "this-is-not-right" began to go off. With time, we discovered quantum mechanics, a realm of reality that is very much true but very much illogical to us. Parts of our reasoning, such mathematics, still hold. But much of it does not. Particles can pop into and out of existence. Tunneling can occur. Cause-and-effect breaks down.
My big conundrum is this. Why are we convinced that we must only believe what is reasonable to us? Why is our sense of logic the final arbiter in what is and is not true? Why not decide instead to believe whatever makes sense to a chimp? Really, why not? Is it because we believe we are the smartest creatures that could possibly exist? If we do, what are the odds of that, and why do we think so? If we do not, why do we remain convinced that nothing illogical could be true?
When I find myself thinking differently from other people, particularly if we seem to be talking past each other or if it seems like we are speaking different languages, I find that I am either completely on the wrong track or really on to something.
So here I am, befuddled by my own brain's insistence that I rationalize my belief in God. I think I can. I've tried before with some success. But why must I? That's my question.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
The Little Penguin that Could
Hello, everyone! I so much appreciate all the great comments. You know who you are.
I really, really do not have time to write much. I'll try to put something on here after my block exams.
Block exams mean four exams in five days. This happens about every six weeks throughout the first semester of medical school here. It means pretty much non-stop studying for about a week-and-a-half solid.
But what I really wanted to put on the record here is that I don't mind it. Medical students told me that they had plenty of time to have lives, that they often took weekends off, and all sorts of associated nonsense. I don't want to say that to the kids who are interviewing now. I want to level with them.
"Listen, guys. Medical school is hard. You will learn more facts than you thought possible in less time than you thought possible. It will take at least 60 or 65 hours per week of your time in classes, labs, and studying. You really can't do it in much less time than that; if you do, you're doing it wrong. No way around it.
"And putting in that much work would be really painful and awful... if this were not exactly what we want with our lives. It's so exciting to learn it all. So yes, medical school is as hard as everyone says. But it's also as great as everyone says."
I find myself gladly making sacrifices I would have begrudged in college. Just like waiting for a stranger is annoying but waiting for the person you love is oddly a pleasure, sacrificing for medical school is gladly done.
Have a good week!
I really, really do not have time to write much. I'll try to put something on here after my block exams.
Block exams mean four exams in five days. This happens about every six weeks throughout the first semester of medical school here. It means pretty much non-stop studying for about a week-and-a-half solid.
But what I really wanted to put on the record here is that I don't mind it. Medical students told me that they had plenty of time to have lives, that they often took weekends off, and all sorts of associated nonsense. I don't want to say that to the kids who are interviewing now. I want to level with them.
"Listen, guys. Medical school is hard. You will learn more facts than you thought possible in less time than you thought possible. It will take at least 60 or 65 hours per week of your time in classes, labs, and studying. You really can't do it in much less time than that; if you do, you're doing it wrong. No way around it.
"And putting in that much work would be really painful and awful... if this were not exactly what we want with our lives. It's so exciting to learn it all. So yes, medical school is as hard as everyone says. But it's also as great as everyone says."
I find myself gladly making sacrifices I would have begrudged in college. Just like waiting for a stranger is annoying but waiting for the person you love is oddly a pleasure, sacrificing for medical school is gladly done.
Have a good week!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
During my White Coat ceremony, physicians put our pretty, fresh white coats on us for the first time. These are the coats we ordered months ago and lusted over months before that when we first interviewed here. When we put on the coat and took the Hippocratic Oath, we joined the profession of medicine. Never mind that we don't know squat yet. We are now part of the tribe.
But that's not really what I wanted to talk about, so let's talk about humanism.
Humanism
We also received little gold pins to wear on our white coats for the ceremony. They were supposed to embody the ideals of compassion and humanity in medicine, but unfortunately what they actually said was, "Humanism in Medicine". I don't think that word means what you think it means.
I take sharp issue with humanism, so I wore the pin for the sake of symmetry and such during the ceremony and promptly removed it afterward.
Humanism can mean lots of things, but usually it involves a focus on human ethics, purpose, and reason. It usually also involves (to some degree) some sense that humanity can and should achieve our highest purpose: to become more human, fully human, perhaps über-human. In essence, it's a strong focus squarely on humans.
I was homeschooled, so while certain things may have been lacking my education, an introduction to important world philosophies most certainly was not. Since I first read about what humanism was, when it arose, and what it means, I have come to believe that humanism is perhaps the single most harmful and potentially dangerous idea in the world.
Humanism elevates humanity as our own ideal. Man becomes man's own hero. This idea really came into its own during the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. It drenches the art and music of the period. It runs throughout the great philosophical works of the time. It even has fingers in the Reformation and the economic theories of the day.
But I'm no historian, so I'll make only one example.
Humanism is believing that we are god. Isn't this the root of every sin - that we believe we are god? Is it not simply a claim to be greater, to know more, to be more perceptive than God?
Is it not the root of our suffering? How could we possibly be content or at peace while engulfed in such a glaring inconsistency as the delusion that we are god in a universe in which the deepest truth is that God is God? Is not the source of our deep discontent exactly that we want to be god, believe we are, and yet the universe does not obey our will? Do we not suffer because we want and do not have, because we lack and cannot fulfill ourselves? We continue in this delusion that we are god, and the incongruities sting.
We tire, we ache, we hunger, we age. A god does none of that, so we are frustrated and painfully perplexed. But who has ever heard of a god who is perplexed? This is another fresh source of misery.
Then we rage that the true God does not end our pain, stop our dying, and explain our confusion. In other words, we rage at God for not making us gods.
When I look deep inside myself, I see this so clearly. I want to be god. This is my true nature.
So is my fall not of my own doing, when my soul utterly rejected God's supremacy? What is Hell but having one's deepest longing most absolutely thwarted? What is Hell but a being who longs for nothing more in all the universe but to be god, but knowing full well that it most certainly is not and never shall be?
Yet I cannot free myself of it! Some part of me longs to be god so deeply that it believes the delusion that it is. Yet having my deepest-held beliefs blatantly shattered every day is agonizing. Who will save me from this body of death?
This is just my late-night musings, and only that. I'm just another human being, and a young one at that. But this is what I wonder about.
Last thought of the day -
What, then, does it mean that now we eat the Body and Blood of God, by God's own command? When God became man, a way was provided to free man from his delusion of being god. Is Eucharist the antidote to the clutches of humanism?
Inspired by: http://virtuouspla.net/2011/08/31/miracles-happen/
But that's not really what I wanted to talk about, so let's talk about humanism.
Humanism
We also received little gold pins to wear on our white coats for the ceremony. They were supposed to embody the ideals of compassion and humanity in medicine, but unfortunately what they actually said was, "Humanism in Medicine". I don't think that word means what you think it means.
I take sharp issue with humanism, so I wore the pin for the sake of symmetry and such during the ceremony and promptly removed it afterward.
Humanism can mean lots of things, but usually it involves a focus on human ethics, purpose, and reason. It usually also involves (to some degree) some sense that humanity can and should achieve our highest purpose: to become more human, fully human, perhaps über-human. In essence, it's a strong focus squarely on humans.
I was homeschooled, so while certain things may have been lacking my education, an introduction to important world philosophies most certainly was not. Since I first read about what humanism was, when it arose, and what it means, I have come to believe that humanism is perhaps the single most harmful and potentially dangerous idea in the world.
Humanism elevates humanity as our own ideal. Man becomes man's own hero. This idea really came into its own during the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. It drenches the art and music of the period. It runs throughout the great philosophical works of the time. It even has fingers in the Reformation and the economic theories of the day.
But I'm no historian, so I'll make only one example.
This is Michelangelo's David, perhaps the most famous statue in the world. It is easy to see David as a representation of King David from the Bible, and perhaps in some way he is. However, that figure is not King David's in one notable way: the figure is uncircumcised.
So what is David? I'll leave the details of the case to the art historians, but some now believe that David was a statement of utter human perfection and of the perfection of humanity. He towers over the onlooker, and such extraordinary detail and attention has been paid to his every line and feature. Michelangelo was one of the great humanists of the Renaissance, and this was one of his crowning works.
Look for humanism, and see if you can't find it in every seam, every pore, every mindless and intentional action of our society. We arose from the Renaissance, and it shows. It pervades the fabric of our society, integral and invisible at the same time. It is so universal in the modern world that it can be difficult to describe what it is. If you're interested, get yourself a copy of Francis Schaeffer's How Should We Then Live, which chronicles the rise of Western thought and how it influenced the modern world. (I can't vouch for absolutely everything Schaeffer says, but the historical aspects of the book are excellent.)
I've heard the case made elsewhere that the average Christian thinks like a humanist, not because he wants to, but simply because of the world he lives in.
Let's go a little deeper. I tend to think of the Biblical Fall as a metaphorical, symbolic description of an actual event that happened in some way, in some sense when human beings first became conscious.
So is humanism perhaps the oldest lie of all? How it ingrains itself into us! How we carry it from birth! Is this the echo of Adam's sin? Was that our sin: taking into ourselves the knowledge of good and evil, trying to make it part of us, to be found within us?
This is how I see humanism when its trappings are stripped away: "... you will be like God, knowing good from evil..."
Humanism is believing that we are god. Isn't this the root of every sin - that we believe we are god? Is it not simply a claim to be greater, to know more, to be more perceptive than God?
Is it not the root of our suffering? How could we possibly be content or at peace while engulfed in such a glaring inconsistency as the delusion that we are god in a universe in which the deepest truth is that God is God? Is not the source of our deep discontent exactly that we want to be god, believe we are, and yet the universe does not obey our will? Do we not suffer because we want and do not have, because we lack and cannot fulfill ourselves? We continue in this delusion that we are god, and the incongruities sting.
We tire, we ache, we hunger, we age. A god does none of that, so we are frustrated and painfully perplexed. But who has ever heard of a god who is perplexed? This is another fresh source of misery.
Then we rage that the true God does not end our pain, stop our dying, and explain our confusion. In other words, we rage at God for not making us gods.
When I look deep inside myself, I see this so clearly. I want to be god. This is my true nature.
So is my fall not of my own doing, when my soul utterly rejected God's supremacy? What is Hell but having one's deepest longing most absolutely thwarted? What is Hell but a being who longs for nothing more in all the universe but to be god, but knowing full well that it most certainly is not and never shall be?
Yet I cannot free myself of it! Some part of me longs to be god so deeply that it believes the delusion that it is. Yet having my deepest-held beliefs blatantly shattered every day is agonizing. Who will save me from this body of death?
This is just my late-night musings, and only that. I'm just another human being, and a young one at that. But this is what I wonder about.
Last thought of the day -
What, then, does it mean that now we eat the Body and Blood of God, by God's own command? When God became man, a way was provided to free man from his delusion of being god. Is Eucharist the antidote to the clutches of humanism?
Inspired by: http://virtuouspla.net/2011/08/31/miracles-happen/
Friday, August 19, 2011
Why I Stink
The blogposts about my travels are going to be on hold for a while. I would love to write more about them, but I simply, honestly, truly don't have time.
I started medical school on Monday, and I do not want to miss the opportunity to write about that. Also, I no longer have anywhere near as much time as I did.
Since it's Friday, I'll do Seven Quick Takes about Medical School, in honor of Jen at Conversion Diary.
I started medical school on Monday, and I do not want to miss the opportunity to write about that. Also, I no longer have anywhere near as much time as I did.
Since it's Friday, I'll do Seven Quick Takes about Medical School, in honor of Jen at Conversion Diary.
-1-
I'm in medical school! I have this realization every few hours and think once again how very lucky I am. My dream is happening, and it's wonderful.
-2-
Medical school is hard.
This semester, I am taking Biochemistry, Developmental Anatomy, Gross Anatomy, and Histology. This translates roughly to:
Biochemistry -
Chemistry on steroids and chemistry OF steroids,
Developmental Anatomy (aka "Devo") -
A Baby Story: the Little Blastocyst That Could,
Gross Anatomy -
There are twelve thoracic vertebrae. Each has two costal facets that articulate with the ribs. These sit superior and anterior to the pedicle and lamina, which form the intervertebral fosamina, through which run the spinal nerves. The greater dorsal nerve runs distally to the suboccipital triangle, made of the rectus capitis posterior major muscle, the obliquus capitis superior muscle, and the obliquus capitis inferior muscle. The transverse process of the atlas runs laterally through the triangle, just inferior to the vertebral artery and the suboccipital nerve.
Didn't know this? Neither did I, two days ago.
Didn't know this? Neither did I, two days ago.
Histology (aka "Histo") -
SO MANY CELLS. 400 CELLS.
-3-
The medical students I've met are uniformly brilliant, dedicated, and hardworking. It's fun to be in class and know everyone there cares just as much as you do and is studying every bit as hard.
-4-
Much of what I learned in college about how to learn is wrong. Well, it's right if you're studying math. But it's not right if you're studying medicine.
Studying math is like trying to uproot a tree. You have to know the layout and understand the theory of trees and think really hard and have the right tools, and then in a burst of effort, the tree comes out.
Studying medicine is more like finding that 10,000 weeds have popped up in your yard. You work really hard and pull up all the ones you can find, trying to get the roots out but not spend too much time on any one. The next morning, there are 10,000 weeds in your yard...
Studying medicine is more like finding that 10,000 weeds have popped up in your yard. You work really hard and pull up all the ones you can find, trying to get the roots out but not spend too much time on any one. The next morning, there are 10,000 weeds in your yard...
So I'm not doing as well as I thought I would. My brain is honed to learn mathematics. I'm counting on the flexibility of the human brain to let me rewire things posthaste.
-5-
Being allowed to dissect a human cadaver is a supreme privilege like no other. It's a tremendous honor to be allowed this form of intimacy with this person's body that even she never had.
It's also a fantastic way to learn.
-6-
Being allowed to dissect a human cadaver makes you reek. I've dedicated a set of scrubs and the lab coat they gave us to just gross anatomy lab. When I'm not wearing them, they live in a sealed trash bag in my locker at the school.
I don't think I can do much to get that smell out of my hair, though.
-7-
Medical school is taking my life from me completely. I've abandoned hobbies, down time, and socializing to keep up with it.
But I can give up those things. I just can't give up medicine. It's an easy trade.
Have a good weekend, everyone!
Friday, August 5, 2011
A Little Penguin's Hard Choice
Hello!
As promised, here I will tell you what happens when we run out of medicine.
But first, giraffes!
The third day we were in Galana Ranch, our host arranged a treat for us after work.
So after we finished clinic for the day, our group piled into our Land Cruiser and Land Rover and set off across the African savannah.
As promised, here I will tell you what happens when we run out of medicine.
But first, giraffes!
The third day we were in Galana Ranch, our host arranged a treat for us after work.
So after we finished clinic for the day, our group piled into our Land Cruiser and Land Rover and set off across the African savannah.
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| One of our noble steeds |
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| Looking over the top of the truck |
We drove off the road for at least fifteen minutes with the general feeling that this was going to be a long, disappointing trek of nothingness while we were hungry and tired. We saw a few DLA's and maybe a rabbit, but that was it.
Suddenly, the oldest Kenyan guide peered at the horizon ahead and shouted something to the driver. The driver turned the truck away from the mountain and began cautiously steering the truck through the brush. Occasionally we would stop and the Africans would peer intensely at various places on the horizon, then we would set off again.
I couldn't see anything. There were a few tan-colored boulders up ahead, but nothing terribly exciting.
Then one of them moved.
What I thought were boulders were elephants. Massive, gentle, and beautiful, they stood in a group and eyed us warily. A group of zebras stayed with them.
We even saw ostriches!
Here we were, deep in the African savannah, on safari. There was one more animal in particular I wanted to see. The elephants and zebras and ostriches had been so amazing, more than I'd ever hoped to see in my life.
But I wanted so much to see a giraffe. By this time, it was getting dark, but our guides decided to show us one more place where we just might see some wildlife.
We drove to a sheltered area near the mountain, and there they were.
Our pictures barely turned out, but we saw giraffes. They were gorgeous, graceful, and timid. They generally did not let us get very close to them, sauntering on as a herd whenever we approached. But they were spectacular, and I'll never forget how they looked in the waning evening.
Later in the trip, we got up early before clinic and detoured to a spot on the river where hippos were known to congregate. We kept our distance; hippopotamuses kill more people in Africa every year than any other animal. One of our group recalled seeing a video (which I can't find right now; sorry) of a hippopotamus absolutely demolishing a Jeep.
These pictures use a lot of zoom; we were not this close.
This was an amazing way to start our last day of clinic.
Our last day of clinic ended on a much heavier note, however.
The last day of work at any given place on a medical trip like this involves some heart-wrenching rationing. We cannot see everyone. We moved into aggressive triage, where the nurses would send only the most complex cases to the doctors. Most people were simply given vitamins and pain medication and a kind smile.
When we no longer have time to do even that, we each grab several packages of vitamins, parasite medication, and Tylenol and start giving them to people. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality of holding this medication and having to choose who it went to. The ten-year-old or the sixty-year-old? The sick baby or the nursing mother? The working father or the growing child?
This is what happens when we run out of medicine, and it's heartbreaking.
On the way back to Malindi from Galana Ranch, one of the sweet young ladies on our trip got to talking with our guide, who told her that the whole Galana region was going into drought and devastating famine.
Shocked, she looked up. "So what will happen to those people we saw?"
"Many will lose everything they have, and many will die."
I'm a bit glad I only learned this after we left, not while we were still meeting people and playing with the beautiful children. But this still haunts me after nearly two months. I try to remember that we improved these people's health and gave them the best possible chance to withstand the famine. At the end of the day, however, I simply have to offer up a prayer for them and try to get some sleep.
Next time: the last of Kenya and walking into a whole new world.
I couldn't see anything. There were a few tan-colored boulders up ahead, but nothing terribly exciting.
Then one of them moved.
What I thought were boulders were elephants. Massive, gentle, and beautiful, they stood in a group and eyed us warily. A group of zebras stayed with them.
We even saw ostriches!
Here we were, deep in the African savannah, on safari. There was one more animal in particular I wanted to see. The elephants and zebras and ostriches had been so amazing, more than I'd ever hoped to see in my life.
But I wanted so much to see a giraffe. By this time, it was getting dark, but our guides decided to show us one more place where we just might see some wildlife.
We drove to a sheltered area near the mountain, and there they were.
Later in the trip, we got up early before clinic and detoured to a spot on the river where hippos were known to congregate. We kept our distance; hippopotamuses kill more people in Africa every year than any other animal. One of our group recalled seeing a video (which I can't find right now; sorry) of a hippopotamus absolutely demolishing a Jeep.
These pictures use a lot of zoom; we were not this close.
This was an amazing way to start our last day of clinic.
Our last day of clinic ended on a much heavier note, however.
The last day of work at any given place on a medical trip like this involves some heart-wrenching rationing. We cannot see everyone. We moved into aggressive triage, where the nurses would send only the most complex cases to the doctors. Most people were simply given vitamins and pain medication and a kind smile.
When we no longer have time to do even that, we each grab several packages of vitamins, parasite medication, and Tylenol and start giving them to people. Nothing could have prepared me for the reality of holding this medication and having to choose who it went to. The ten-year-old or the sixty-year-old? The sick baby or the nursing mother? The working father or the growing child?
This is what happens when we run out of medicine, and it's heartbreaking.
On the way back to Malindi from Galana Ranch, one of the sweet young ladies on our trip got to talking with our guide, who told her that the whole Galana region was going into drought and devastating famine.
Shocked, she looked up. "So what will happen to those people we saw?"
"Many will lose everything they have, and many will die."
I'm a bit glad I only learned this after we left, not while we were still meeting people and playing with the beautiful children. But this still haunts me after nearly two months. I try to remember that we improved these people's health and gave them the best possible chance to withstand the famine. At the end of the day, however, I simply have to offer up a prayer for them and try to get some sleep.
Next time: the last of Kenya and walking into a whole new world.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The Little Penguin and the Poor Goats
Hello!
I have a bit of free time, so I'll proceed to write about our first week in Kenya. We spent the first few days traveling. British Airways treated us with the typical British courtesy. It was the best treatment I've ever received on an airplane. They brought us tea.
Tea!
Finally, we arrived in Kenya. I definitely had to remind myself that this was not Houston, Texas. We were in KENYA.
I have a bit of free time, so I'll proceed to write about our first week in Kenya. We spent the first few days traveling. British Airways treated us with the typical British courtesy. It was the best treatment I've ever received on an airplane. They brought us tea.
Tea!
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| Kristi, Pingu, and me on the airplane |
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| This thing was on the back of the seat in front of each passenger. We could watch as our plane passed Greenland, or crossed into England. Awesome. |
Finally, we arrived in Kenya. I definitely had to remind myself that this was not Houston, Texas. We were in KENYA.
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| KENYA. |
I kept thinking things along the lines of, "Whoa, we are in Kenya, guys. Like really really. This is Kenya. See that tarmac? That is Kenyan tarmac..."
We also got to see warthogs, monkeys, and lots of birds.
Our team was split into two groups. My group (of about fifteen: two doctors, two nurses, four medical students, and various administrative people and translators) left Malindi and traveled to Galana Ranch. Malindi is along the eastern coast, so it's lush and green. But Galana Ranch is further west into the savannah, and that area was rather dry.
We traveled in a mutatu, which is a safari van. We were told it would be a two-hour drive, roughly. I failed to anticipate that "two-hour drive" does not mean two hours of interstate highway. It means two hours of this:
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| (Not our photo) |
It was fun, nevertheless. I kept looking around, as we left the city and passed into native villages with mud huts, and thinking that this was very nearly the "human wild-type". Human beings are thought to have evolved in Africa. It was really interesting to "get back to our roots", so to speak.
Eventually, we arrived at our tent camp. Galana Ranch is a government-owned game preserve, containing something like 1.6 million acres of land. The administrative area has a dispensary for the park employees, which is where we would be working. Several tribes live in the preserve, and we saw mostly people from those tribes.
Every day, we drove about 40 minutes from our tent camp to the administrative center. We rode in the back end of a Land Cruiser, which was bumpy but afforded us a great opportunity to talk and get to know each other.
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| Wazungu in the back of the Land Cruiser |
We also got to see plenty of wildlife. We saw so many impalas, dik-diks, and similar creatures that we took to calling them DLA's: deer-like animals.
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| Two DLA's (deer-like animals) |
We ate all our meals in the house of a local official named Jerma. He treated us like kings in every way, even bringing in a nationally-renowned chef to cook for us.
The second day, the tribe we were treating was so grateful that they gave us two goats in thanks.
We ate goat stew with rice, chapatis, and cabbage for lunch and supper every day we were there. With meals and in the afternoons, they brought us chai tea made with goat milk. We were all very, very tired of goat stew (and of African food in general) after the third or fourth time, but still felt like honored guests. The natives might only have meat once or twice per month. In their kindness, these people provided our group with roasted, stewed goat twice a day for a week.
Jerma's house was along the Galana River, and the views were breathtaking in every direction.
The first day we arrived, while waiting for lunch to finish cooking, they called us over to the river's edge. The park guards went right down to the bank and began whistling and beating on the bank with a fresh goat skin.
A few feet offshore, something began moving in the river. They pointed it out to us, and told us this was the mamma, the second-largest of the family.
She approached frighteningly fast, climbing up the bank. They threw bits of goat skin to her, which she eyed carefully and snatched in a lightening-fast motion.
They even gave her whole legs, which she crushed with her jaws and swallowed.
They called her Mrs. Gibson, and she was an African crocodile. Her legs, as you can see, are so powerful; she could propel herself up the bank in no time at all.
Her mate and baby remained in the river for the most part, but this amazing "calling of the crocodile" was repeated almost every day. We eventually saw all three crocodiles come up the bank at different times.
We waited safely on a rock outcropping during this display. None of us got very close to the river.
The medical work was the most memorable part of the trip, however. We had to work through translators, sometimes one who translated English to Swahili, then another who translated Swahili to the tribal languages. Most of the complaints were very similar: muscle and joint aches from carrying heavy loads (and heavy babies) over long distances, parasites, infected wounds or bug bites, and sinus problems due to the smoke from indoor cooking fires. We gave them what we had and arranged surgeries in Malindi where we could.
I spent most of my time taking vitals. But I also got to float, working wherever people were piling up. This enabled me to see the pharmacy work, the blood tests, and the doctors' work.
Dad eventually took to calling me the "Rocephin Queen" because I gave so many injections of Rocephin, a powerful antibiotic.
Thanks to some dedicated mentors, I learned more medicine this trip than I ever have on a mission trip. I got to listen to a fetal heartbeat and feel the baby's head.
Dad showed me a case of elephantiasis. Elephantiasis is an incredibly rare parasitic disease in the United States, so much so that most physicians will never see a case of it in real life. Luckily, it's easily treated.
The medical work was the most memorable part of the trip, however. We had to work through translators, sometimes one who translated English to Swahili, then another who translated Swahili to the tribal languages. Most of the complaints were very similar: muscle and joint aches from carrying heavy loads (and heavy babies) over long distances, parasites, infected wounds or bug bites, and sinus problems due to the smoke from indoor cooking fires. We gave them what we had and arranged surgeries in Malindi where we could.
I spent most of my time taking vitals. But I also got to float, working wherever people were piling up. This enabled me to see the pharmacy work, the blood tests, and the doctors' work.
Dad eventually took to calling me the "Rocephin Queen" because I gave so many injections of Rocephin, a powerful antibiotic.
Thanks to some dedicated mentors, I learned more medicine this trip than I ever have on a mission trip. I got to listen to a fetal heartbeat and feel the baby's head.
Dad showed me a case of elephantiasis. Elephantiasis is an incredibly rare parasitic disease in the United States, so much so that most physicians will never see a case of it in real life. Luckily, it's easily treated.
 |
| Elephantiasis in right leg |
 |
| Probably a parasitic infection. This parasite may or may not have ever been described by modern medicine. |
 |
| These are people from the tribe waiting after being seen to walk back to their village. |
We treated a lion bite. The man inadvertently herded his goats into the lion's territory. His back had some deep scars where the lion attacked him. The locals said that if the lion had wanted to hurt him, he'd be dead. Apparently, the lion only wanted to give a warning.
Next time: giraffes, and what it means when we run out of medicine.
Thanks for reading!
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Adventures of a Little Penguin
Jambo, good day, bonjour, buon giorno, and hello!
Thank you for all the good wishes while I was traveling. It meant so much to get to leave with such encouragement and support.
One of the objects of my time abroad was solitude, so I corresponded very little with anyone and posted nothing here. But now that I am back, I hope to write a bit about where I was and what I saw. I hope to provide those curious with the stories and pictures. I also want to share my experience and advice with anyone who plans a trip like mine.
Here is where I went.
Where I Went:
(with medical mission team from Lubbock, Texas)
June 4 --- Home - Dallas, Texas - Houston
June 5 --- London, England - Nairobi, Kenya
June 6 --- Nairobi, Kenya - Malindi, Kenya
June 7 --- Galana Ranch, Kenya
June 8 --- Galana Ranch, Kenya
June 9 --- Galana Ranch, Kenya
June 10 --- Galana Ranch - Malindi, Kenya
June 11 --- Malindi, Kenya
June 12 --- Malindi, Kenya
June 13 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 14 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 15 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 16 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 17 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 18 --- Malindi - Nairobi - London
(with Dad and family friend)
June 19 --- London
(only with Pingu, my stuffed penguin)
June 20 --- London
June 21 --- London - Portsmouth, England - Caen, France
June 22 --- Caen - Paris - Lourdes, France
June 23 --- Lourdes - Nice, France
June 24 --- Nice - Ventimiglia, Italy - Genova, Italy
June 25 --- Genova - Rome, Italy
June 26 --- Rome
June 27 --- Rome
June 28 --- Rome
June 29 --- Rome
June 30 --- Rome
July 1 --- Rome - Milan, Italy
July 2 --- Paris, France
July 3 --- Paris - Calais, France - Dover, England
July 4 --- Dover - London
July 5 --- London - Houston, Texas
July 6 --- Houston - Dallas - Home
All told, this is a distance of about 36,000 kilometers, roughly 4000 kilometers short of the circumference of the Earth. I am not, of course, in the running for "furthest distance in a single trip". That belongs to those who flew to the moon, which is nearly 400,000 km!
My dad and I laughed a good deal over our boarding passes:
According to British Airways, I am Sarah, WORLD TRAVELLER.
My grand overseas adventure was actually two separate trips, put end to end. The Kenya trip was a medical mission trip organized by Monterrey Church of Christ in Lubbock, Texas. We spent two weeks providing medical care to the Kenyan people. This trip alone was life-altering.
In the months before the trip, I noticed that our connecting flight was through London. I began to think about postponing our trip back and spending a day in London with my dad. This evolved into spending a couple more weeks in London after that. At the suggestion of my mum, this then evolved into traveling about Europe. It seemed silly to pay for the flight across the Atlantic Ocean and then never do anything.
Thus, a solo trip through Europe was added at the end of the Kenya trip.
I hope to write about everything I saw and did. But for readability's sake, I will plan to break the account up into more manageable pieces and post it a bit at a time.
So this is where I have been. I picked up words in four languages in four weeks and saw bits of culture and history that blew my mind.
Next time: Kenya, Galana Ranch, and extensive musings on stewed goat.
Thank you for all the good wishes while I was traveling. It meant so much to get to leave with such encouragement and support.
One of the objects of my time abroad was solitude, so I corresponded very little with anyone and posted nothing here. But now that I am back, I hope to write a bit about where I was and what I saw. I hope to provide those curious with the stories and pictures. I also want to share my experience and advice with anyone who plans a trip like mine.
Here is where I went.
Where I Went:
(with medical mission team from Lubbock, Texas)
June 4 --- Home - Dallas, Texas - Houston
June 5 --- London, England - Nairobi, Kenya
June 6 --- Nairobi, Kenya - Malindi, Kenya
June 7 --- Galana Ranch, Kenya
June 8 --- Galana Ranch, Kenya
June 9 --- Galana Ranch, Kenya
June 10 --- Galana Ranch - Malindi, Kenya
June 11 --- Malindi, Kenya
June 12 --- Malindi, Kenya
June 13 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 14 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 15 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 16 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 17 --- Malindi, Kenya - Mshongoleni, Kenya
June 18 --- Malindi - Nairobi - London
(with Dad and family friend)
June 19 --- London
(only with Pingu, my stuffed penguin)
June 20 --- London
 |
| Pingu at DFW airport |
 |
| Pingu at Buckingham Palace during the Changing of the Guard |
 |
| Pingu and Buckingham Palace |
June 21 --- London - Portsmouth, England - Caen, France
June 22 --- Caen - Paris - Lourdes, France
June 23 --- Lourdes - Nice, France
June 24 --- Nice - Ventimiglia, Italy - Genova, Italy
June 25 --- Genova - Rome, Italy
June 26 --- Rome
June 27 --- Rome
June 28 --- Rome
June 29 --- Rome
June 30 --- Rome
July 1 --- Rome - Milan, Italy
July 2 --- Paris, France
July 3 --- Paris - Calais, France - Dover, England
July 4 --- Dover - London
July 5 --- London - Houston, Texas
July 6 --- Houston - Dallas - Home
All told, this is a distance of about 36,000 kilometers, roughly 4000 kilometers short of the circumference of the Earth. I am not, of course, in the running for "furthest distance in a single trip". That belongs to those who flew to the moon, which is nearly 400,000 km!
My dad and I laughed a good deal over our boarding passes:
According to British Airways, I am Sarah, WORLD TRAVELLER.
My grand overseas adventure was actually two separate trips, put end to end. The Kenya trip was a medical mission trip organized by Monterrey Church of Christ in Lubbock, Texas. We spent two weeks providing medical care to the Kenyan people. This trip alone was life-altering.
In the months before the trip, I noticed that our connecting flight was through London. I began to think about postponing our trip back and spending a day in London with my dad. This evolved into spending a couple more weeks in London after that. At the suggestion of my mum, this then evolved into traveling about Europe. It seemed silly to pay for the flight across the Atlantic Ocean and then never do anything.
Thus, a solo trip through Europe was added at the end of the Kenya trip.
I hope to write about everything I saw and did. But for readability's sake, I will plan to break the account up into more manageable pieces and post it a bit at a time.
So this is where I have been. I picked up words in four languages in four weeks and saw bits of culture and history that blew my mind.
Next time: Kenya, Galana Ranch, and extensive musings on stewed goat.
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