Brandon Twp. — Wiping her tears at the airport, Elizabeth McGhee pinched herself to see if the last two weeks were a dream.
McGhee, a Brandon Township veterinarian, recently led a two-week medical trip to West Africa. Suitcases loaded with medicine, the five-person team set up clinical camps in the Kenyan desert, targeting a new location every day in schools, villages, and at an orphanage. The clinic was announced beforehand; locals lined up in search of care from the team. What they found was heartbreaking.
“An 8-year-old would bring a 2-year-old, all dirty, and didn’t know how to open a bottle,” said McGhee, 46. “I’d say, ‘Where’s your mama?’ and they’d stare.”
McGhee found countless Kenyan parents had died of AIDS, leaving their young children alone.
“It’s mind blowing. I mean, it’s like a village of just kids. It’s terrible,” she said.
McGhee looked for a woman she met last trip. After examining her baby, the woman had asked about multiple lumps on her own hands, neck, and chest. At a loss for an answer, McGhee photographed the lumps to show to U.S. doctors. “It looks like AIDS,” doctors told her.
This year, she looked in vain for the woman. She had died.
Seeing such great need and so many ragged little children without parents broke their hearts. One young team member, overwhelmed, began to sob.
“You’ve got to remember we’re helping,” said McGhee, coaching her to breathe deeply, smile, and pat every child.
“They just think it’s so wonderful that an American would come and see them,” said McGhee.
Fitting in. Along with maintaining composure, they deferred to the culture.
“In Kenya, bare breasts are not a big deal, but thighs are considered hot,” said McGhee. “Wear short- shorts and you’ll get propositioned every 10 seconds—if not taken.”
Over the years, the team has switched from wearing dresses to wrapping their bodies and faces in four to five yards of colorful fabric. Swathed like the local Muslim women, they were astonished at the improved treatment.
“I was treated like a queen instead of a regular person,” said McGhee. “A man from customs escorted us, carried our luggage, referred to us as ‘nice ladies.”
Along with dressing like the locals, the women also had their hair braided.
The braids served three purposes, said McGhee.
“First, it’s very African and helped us fit in. Second, it’s easier, as often there’s no way to do your hair,” said McGhee, who wore corn rows piled atop her head in a style called dizi kili manjaro (banana mountain). Others had their hair braided in rasta (long braids), a conversation-starter when they returned to the United States.
As a mother of nine, McGhee was at an advantage. The Kenyan minister who initiated the medical trips met her at the airport. He introduced his wife, and sheepishly admitted they had five children.
“Only five?” said McGhee, laughing.
“When the African people see you’re a mama and you have nine living children you’ll be like one step away from God,” said the amazed clergyman, who announced her elevated status to the locals at each stop.
“Every time he introduced me I’d hear in Swahili ‘tisa mtoto’ —nine children— and they all went ‘aahhh,” said McGhee.
She was respectfully called “mama” everywhere she went. When mothers shyly brought her their babies, McGhee pulled out her family photo.Some men noticed only her sons; others asked about her husband.
“You are good wife,” they told her. “Where is your husband? He is not here, so you would be good wife for me.”
Welcomed with open arms. Bible students and local nurses came to assist at the camps; team members also worked with the Kiwanis of Mombassa Island.
With the help of a translator, the medical team members supplied their own stethoscopes and ear scopes, seeing as many as 400 people in a day: mumps, cough, flu, malaria, tuberculosis, cervicitis, elephantitis (enlarged tissue) and ear disturbances. The team also dispensed vitamins, antibiotics, cough medicine, soap, dermatological remedies, and other medications. Minor ailments were also treated, wounds bandaged, and the medical team occasionally caught a baby as the mother delivered it. The team also gave prenatal counseling and birth advice, such as teaching women to wash the knife used to cut the umbilical cord, and avoid the dirt floor while delivering.
While they didn’t perform surgeries, the team did donate supplies like gloves and syringes to Kenyan medical personnel.
McGhee counseled on AIDS prevention, and the importance of abstinence or having only one partner. The disease is not being spread via needles and drug use, but through sexual customs, observed McGhee.
“There are different moral practices there,” she said. “For instance, if a husband died all the brothers get you for a night.”
Many attractive male prostitutes, called beach boys, were infected with AIDS. McGhee asked, “Why do you keep doing this?”
“I’m not going to die alone,” one said.
As a veterinarian, McGhee is also familiar with the symptoms of worm infestation, an affliction virtually unknown among humans in the U.S. She dispensed worm medication to the locals as well as team members. Their suitcase supply of meds was depleted almost immediately; each day they’d pool their money and make a trip to the nearest town to purchase more.
Of the stations set up in the traveling clinics, patients usually started by seeing a nurse or doctor. From there they might go for a blood pressure check, to the camp’s pharmacy, or—especially when they’d received a terminal prognosis—for prayer. Prayer was never refused, said McGhee.
“It was amazing how they respected just prayer, period,” she said.
“I’ll be back.” McGhee has no qualms about returning. Next time, though, she hopes to gather information for a study on low hemoglobin levels.
“The average hemoglobin level there is 8 to 9; the normal level is 13,” said McGhee, who suspects the low levels are mostly due to widepsread malaria and poor nutrition.“In the United States we would do a blood transfusion at the average hemoglobin level there.”
McGhee also hopes to write a grant for worm medication, as she has not received cooperation from the drug manufacturer.
“I think if their bodies were rid of worms they could fight things better. It gets me because our dogs here get better care,” she said.
McGhee and her team paid out-of-pocket nearly $3,000 each to serve in Kenya. The team was coordinated and received medical supplies through Mercy & Truth Medical Missions, a non-denominational Kansas organization. Founded in 1995 while McGhee was attending veterinary school, she serves on MT’s advisory board. Most teams include a doctor or nurse practitioner, but non-medical team members are also welcome, said McGhee. Applications or medical supply donors can find information at www.mercyandtruth.com; potential applicants will undergo medical and criminal screenings.
Mission accomplished. Although the team didn’t preach, providing medical care fulfilled their mission of mercy. Their Christian faith was noticed by a Muslim professor who lived near the home where the team stayed.
On their last day he said, “You know I only believe in one god and I’ve studied religion. Christians are the only ones who claim all they do in love. That’s what I’ve seen you do. You came here with your own money, gave away all your medicine, and sit in the dirt all day.”
“It’s very interesting that we didn’t have to preach or bang a Bible, we just did what we were called to do,” said McGhee.