Congenital Cataracts

Another day has passed. The morning began with a six year-old girl with congenital cataracts on whom we performed bilateral cataract extractions. She required general anesthesia, so we took her to the main hospital OR for the surgery. She did surprisingly well. (Addendum: a few days later, she was running around playing with her friends – happy about her newfound vision but unable to comprehend the true magnitude and life-long impact of that sight-saving operation).

The baby that was delivered this morning breathed her last few breaths tonight. When we checked up on her at the end of the day, she was still in respiratory distress, bradycardic (heart rate in the sixties), and very limp. May God be with her mother and grandmother who will be grieving the death of this newborn baby.

It is hard to believe I’ve been in Africa only one week; for some reason it feels like I’ve been here much longer. And while a part of me wishes I could stay longer to serve in Zambia and get to know these people, another part of me is counting down the days until I can return to my family, my fiancé, a warm shower, my own bed, and even my hospital (despite its flaws, it is a wonderful hospital with modern equipment, accessible resources, a relatively efficient system, and new facilities – all worth millions of dollars that most third-world countries would not even dream of).

Each day that I am here I realize that there is still so much for me to learn before I return to Africa as a missionary. Firstly, I need to learn ophthalmology – not just ophthalmology as practiced in the U.S., but also “bush ophthalmology,” including extracapsular cataract extractions, examination and treatment of eye conditions in HIV/AIDS patients, etc. Perhaps I can also learn to do corneal transplants. I do not know if there is even a single corneal specialist in entire country of Zambia, which has a population of about 12 million people and of which only 12 are ophthalmologists.


Next, I need to learn how to bake bread. “Shoprite” is a supermarket where one can find food/supplies easily, but what it is really known for is its tasty bread. One loaf of bread costs about 1700 kwacha, equivalent to about $0.40, depending on the exchange rate for the day (it was approximately 4200 kwacha per dollar when I left Zambia). Interestingly, however, the people always cue for bread as they wait for it to be made in the oven. Instead of a straight line, however, there is consistently a large mob of people crowding around the bakery counter frantically grabbing loaves as they are distributed. It is an interesting sight. If I could learn how to bake bread, however, there would be no need to participate in the madness of waiting for Shoprite bread.

Other things that I have to learn before I return to Africa include: how to cut hair, how to grow my own fruits and vegetables, how to cook tasty meals with limited ingredients (maize, cassava, flour, potatoes, onions, and garlic), how to drive stick-shift, and how to speak Nyanja (the tribal language commonly spoken in the Eastern Province of Zambia).

Here’s a quick lesson in Nyanja:
Muli bwanji = How are you? (Morning greeting)
Machoma bwanji = How have you been? (Afternoon greeting)
Zikomo = Thank you.
Penya cu mwamba = Look up.
Penya panzi = Look down.
Penya cu manja = Look to the right.
Penya cu mazere = Look to the left.
Tika dye = Let's go eat.