Into the Depths of the Jungle

“Four people have died. There are many more that are sick. We need help.”

Things in the Kementian clinic were going as usual that morning when Mrs. George received a phone call from Nickson, a 20 year old Palawano missionary in Kebgen, an 8 hour hike away. About 11 months ago Nickson went to Kebgen and started a school. There have been some ups and downs there lately and Satan has really been working to turn the people away from God. This morning we got word that there were 40+ people in Kebgen and the surrounding villages that had eaten poisonous fish; four people had died and many more were sick.   

“The helicopter is going to be here in an hour. They need a nurse—who will go?” Minan (Mrs. George) said.

I volunteered. What do I need to do? Do they speak any English? How long will I be gone? Questions filled my mind, fear and excitement overwhelmed me. 

“You will be giving everyone charcoal, assessing them, giving them oral re-hydration solution, and scoping out the situation. They’ve all had diarrhea and been vomiting. Time is of essence; they ate the fish yesterday and four people have already died. If there is way too much for you to do alone, we can send another nurse to help you, but for now only you will go because the helicopter cannot carry two passengers very well.Nickson speaks a little bit of English. You might come back today, but if they need you then plan to spend the night.”

I grabbed the necessary medical supplies, a little bit of food, my hammock, jacket, water bottle, filter, and a few other random things and threw them all in my backpack. It had been raining off and on all day and the clouds were rapidly closing in the mountains, which would make it impossible for the helicopter to land. I didn’t know what I was going to find in Kebgen, but I knew that there was no way I would be able to help in any way of my own strength or wisdom. I prayerfully dedicated myself and the situation to God as I went to meet the helicopter at the landing on. Within a short time we were on our way around the mountains for the 15 minute flight.

Twenty plus people eagerly welcomed the helicopter to Kebgen. Grabbing my bag, I followed Nickson down the hill to the school where the patients were gathering. Because of the recent rain, the whole place was more slippery than okra. Not being skilled like the natives, my posterior was introduced to the mud before my feet had been in Kebgen more than five minutes. It was a bonus to find that Nickson spoke English considerably well as more than 20 people gathered to get medical care. There were a few people there that had hiked from a village more than 2 hours away. Almost everyone was awake, alert, and oriented except one particular little boy named Dyibi. His eyes kept rolling back in his head, and every time I gave him charcoal, either orally or rectally, he would lose it. He was slightly responsive, but overall very lethargic. His older brother was one of the four that had already died, as was his aunt. I saw no improvement for the first hour, so we decided to send him to the clinic in Kementian where he could get 24 hour, more in depth care. But by that time the clouds had rolled in and the helicopter could not leave. After a few hours of waiting and treating everyone else, the helicopter was finally able to take the little boy and his dad (who was also very sick) to Kementian.

We decided it would be best if I spent the night and assessed/treated everyone again in the morning. We heard that there were more sick people in other villages, but we could not access them that same day. The little bit of food that I brought was insufficient, so Nickson graciously fed me. I hung up my hammock in a little uninhabited hut and stayed with three young girls from the village. We had a great time chatting, laughing, and trying to understand each other before we went to bed about 8:30. That was probably the coldest, longest night I’ve ever had. I had a muddy skirt that I didn’t want to sleep in, a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, my tadyun (a skirt-like, wrap-around type of thing), a tadyun that the villagers lent me, and my rain jacket. Before the night was over I had all of those in my hammock with me, as well as my language notebook and the Village Medical Manual—books are an amazing way to block the wind! I spent most of the night counting down the hours till morning. I was so excited when I got to 12:30 because I figured by that time it was as good as half way till time to get up. 

I ended up getting a couple hours of sleep before treating patients again in the morning. Everyone was pretty stable by then, and a few other people came for charcoal to take to their friends and families. It ended up that over 40 people received medicine. Later that day the helicopter arrived and flew me back to Kementian. The two patients were on IVs and were looking much better. If they had not made it to the clinic when they did, I am pretty sure that the little boy in particular would not have made it. 

How many more people would have died without help? I didn’t do anything spectacular—I just gave charcoal and ORS. I don’t know how many more would have died, but I’m sure some would have. Whenever Satan attacks, God turns it around and brings good out of it. It was quite an experience for me and put eagerness in my heart to move to my new home in Emrang; a new fire burned within me to live with the natives and really become of part of them.