Majoie

I want to write about one of my favorite patients that I've seen at the hospital. I think you'll like to hear about her.

When I first arrived in Bere, way back at the end of August, she was already here. I was intrigued by her. All day, every day, she sat in her bed with no smile on her face, nearly expressionless. From the start, I decided that I would make it my goal every day to make her smile.

You may wonder why she didn't smile. I can tell you. Her name is Majoie, which in French means "my joy," and she is about 7 years old. She was in a small accident where she broke her right femur, and broken femurs are extremely difficult to fix here in Chad. But, we do the best we can with whatever walks in the door, and so James had made a sort of traction to help the bone heal straight and in the right place. This meant that the little girl had to stay in bed, in the same place for at least 2 months. Seems like reason enough for a little gloominess.

Each day, I would come and talk to her and try to get her to smile. I brought her a picture and crayons to color with one day, but she refused. She didn't want to. So, I colored it and taped it to the end of her bed. Day by day, she started to warm up a little bit more, and I could even get her to give me a half-smile most days.

Then, one day she asked me for a picture to color. I gladly found another one and gave her some crayons to color with. We posted it on the end of her bed, and the collection of pictures grew with time.

Majoie became more and more friendly each day. She would invite us to eat with her sometimes, and she would call us over to her bed and talk our ears off! Sometimes, I had trouble trying to get away so that I could finish my work because she would call me over to talk.

Little Majoie was very soon a favorite of all the nurses as well as some of the other patients. We all spoiled her; we would bring her little treats, do her school work with her, read to her, give her empty bottles to play with, and all kinds of things.

Her grandfather and grandmother were also favorites at the hospital. They were from N'Djamena, which is far, far away, so her grandparents camped here at the hospital for 3 months so that her parents could go home to work and take care of the other children.

Her grandfather was so kind. There were so many times that he would translate for me with another patient, or he would give water to other patients. He was well respected by all the other patients, and he could often convince them to go to the pharmacy and buy their medicines after I had argued with them for the past 15 minutes. Anyway, the whole family was wonderful.

By early December, she was taken off of traction, and we began to teach her to walk with crutches. At first she was terrified to leave her bed. I think she was afraid of falling. But with a little coaxing, we could convince her each day to walk a little bit farther, or we would carry her outside so she could sit in the sunshine. We all loved walking with Majoie and her crutches. And I would tell her, "Majoie, quelque jour, tu va courir encore" (some day you are going to run again).

Then the day came when it was time for her to leave. Ambivalence abounded; I was so happy to see her up and walking with crutches, so happy that she was healed, but I was also very sad to see her leave.

The morning that they left, I had been working the night shift, so I came over to the van to see them off. I said my goodbyes to Majoie's grandparents first, and then to Majoie. Her face was downcast; she did not want to be leaving all of her new friends.

"Majoie, est-ce que tu peut sourire?" I asked in an attempt to get her to smile.

She shook her head no.

"Pour moi?" I pleaded.

A half-smile crossed her face briefly.

I hadn't seen Majoie and her family since that day that they left in mid-December. There we were in the capital city, and I had her grandfather's phone number. I called him up.

He answered the phone, and when I said, "C'est Kristin de l'hopital de Bere," he responded with a warm greeting and asked how I was doing. I explained that I was doing well and that Ansley and I were in N'Djamena and we wanted to come for a visit. He said that we were welcome and we set up a time.

Levi, Ansley, and I took a public van to their house, but arrived a little bit early. Majoie was still at school and her grandfather was out at the market, but they would be back within half an hour. So for 30 minutes, we ate peanuts and talked to her grandmother, who is also very sweet.

Then, I heard the little kids in the yard start yelling, "Majoie! Majoie!" and I knew she was home. I watched the gate and saw Majoie, dressed in her school uniform, walking in without any crutches and with only a slight limp. It was so good to see her walking.

Her grandfather came in shortly afterward and we all sat down and caught up with each other. He bought us sodas and bananas, and we gave them the oranges that we had bought for them.

Majoie was suddenly all shy again, and we could hardly get her to smile, much less talk to us very much. As we talked to her grandfather, we found out that not only could Majoie walk without crutches, but she could run.

Praise God.