Almost a month ago now we had Selection Day. Whenever we come into port, we kick off our surgical activities with one massive call for patients. We spend some weeks getting the word out with posters, billboards, radio announcements, etc. telling everyone that if they or someone they know has one of the conditions that we are able to treat (benign tumors, cleft lips, burn contractures, orthopedic stuff, etc.) then they need to come to Selection Day and we will see if we can indeed help them. This year more than 7,000 people came and stood in line for hours. Some of them had to be carried the whole way. Of course all the medical crew were busy all day saying 'yes' to some and 'no' to others (heartbreaking work), but the rest of us got to fill such supporting roles as escorting patients from station to station, helping fill out paperwork, taking pictures of patients so that their surgeons can prepare properly, passing out peanut butter sandwiches and water bottles to all and sundry, providing security, and entertaining children. I got to help with that last bit. Above you will find a picture of me giving a little boy a sticker. He took it very solemnly. I spoke just enough French to be able to tell him he could pick his favorite color. I think he chose blue. It seems like such a little thing in the face of all the work that was done that day and still needs to be done. So many people came. At times it felt like trying to catch a waterfall in a teacup.
Did you know that Pointe Noire was at one time a major collection point for African slaves before they were shipped off to America and the West Indies? Just last night, a Congolese friend was telling me about a museum near here that commemorates that nasty chapter of international history. When you put a price on someone, you assign them a value relative to your own, contingent upon their potential ability to serve your needs. You say to them 'You are only as important as you are useful to me,' and so you take away their person-hood and burden them with the lie that they must earn the right to matter. It seems kind of poetic that a few centuries later a ship full of (mostly) Westerners should come and put themselves at the service of the Congolese people. With every conversation that took place on Selection Day, we had a chance to show the people of Congo-Brazzaville that they are intrinsically valuable, that they are worth listening to, worth serving and celebrating and learning from. I don't know how to make the world just. With all the ways we hurt each other and have hurt each other, I don't know how to make everything right. I don't even know how we're going to manage feeding everybody. But I can show kindness to the handful of people I see from day to day. I can try to see them the way God sees them and love them as Jesus is still teaching me to love. I can speak truth in face of all the lies that have stacked up around us. And that, I think, is the most powerful thing any of us can do for each other. It's what I need people to do for me. It is what we all ought to be doing for each other,
don't you think?
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