Questions on Death

[I wrote this entry into my journal a few weeks before I left Africa, but I was not able to get it online until now]

I have never been one to let death affect me severely. Be it a guinea pig, a cat, a dog, or a person-- I have never been too emotional. Death, with a Christian view, is almost a celebration. In a perfect world people would celebrate death: Remembering accomplishments and complete selflessness in a person’s life, and recognizing a person’s moving on to eternity in heaven. I realize, however; that this does not always apply. I realize that we can never know, with absolute certainty, where a person will be in eternity. And often we cannot look back at a person’s life fully able to celebrate their accomplishments or Christ-like deeds. Even still, I tend to be most unaffected by death. I must admit, on a side note, that I have only dealt with death with limited experience. I have never lost a direct family member, nor a best friend. When death surprises us, I realize the emotions can immensely grow. The same can be said about the death of a person particularly close to us. I would imagine that I would spend years mourning the death of a friend, family member, or spouse. The point of my writing is not to “brag” about how I can keep my emotions about me while dealing with death. I fully admit that I have been lucky, at least so far, to not experience much pain in the form of loss. And I fully admit, though I have been strong with my experiences so far, I certainly could quickly become one to be very emotional. No, I am not trying to say I am stronger than the next person. In fact, I bring up death for a completely different reason. 

I need to express myself, in terms of death, in order to lift some weight off of my heart. Though I am usually strong with death, I have finally cracked this trip. I will never lose the image of the lady that came into the hospital today. Her cold and lifeless body laying on the stretcher, shook me to the core. I had seen many dying (or dead) people already during these few weeks. Most of which were seen in one of the 6 wards of the hospital, people already admitted. In the U.S. these people would have been placed in a hospice, but there is no such place here. Their death, slow and foreseen to come shortly, did not bother me in the same way. But then something clicked. 

When this lady was rolled into the hospital completely uncovered; not one person raised an eye brow, turned their heads, or even said a word. You would think that a community of hospital visitors would be bothered by such a thing? But it gets better. She was wheeled into the “Minor Theater”, the hospitals small and sketchy room to dress wounds. That is where one of the Doctors and I were waiting. In fact, there were about 8 of us in the room. A kid getting his finger stitched, one other doctor, and a few nurses. She came into the room so that a doctor could confirm her death. I saw him lift up her eye lids revealing dilated pupils. I saw him try for a few minutes to find a pulse. And I saw him listen to the lifeless heart and breathless lungs. The doctor looked at his watch, placed a small linen over her face, and then said a few words (in Swahili) to the nurse who brought this lady in. At first, I did not think she was dead. It was too calm in the room, too calm in the hospital, and the staff was equally too calm. Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting a panic or tears, but maybe some kind of mourning. Even a sigh or deep breath would have been nice. But there was nothing. Come to find out this lady had worked at the hospital-- she was a friend, a companion, a co-worker. 

I consider myself to be strong when it comes to handling death, but even I have this cold feeling that comes over me when I witness such a thing. I mention my “strength” in handling death, only to bring to focus how much stronger African people are in respect to death. Even another volunteer, even more used to the feeling (from a medical side), admitted the same thing: No matter how many times you see death there is always a feeling of sadness that comes over you. But this was not the case in the hospital. A friend and co-worker came through that door lifeless-- and they did not so much as sigh. And then I realized, that had been the case with every instance of death here. Even the families handled the deaths of loved ones in a similar way. Are they that stoic, or that familiar with loss? 

I lost it, thoughts started racing through my head. Is death that common? Where people are hardly fazed by it anymore... Can people actually become desensitized to death? I ran into the bathroom about to puke into the hole in the ground. I cannot get the images out of my head, I cannot eat, and I am overwhelmed by certain burdens from some of the sites I have seen. Perhaps these people have a hope in afterlife much stronger than any of us imagine. Or perhaps death is that common... I have no answers,  but I fear the latter of the two. And with this mindset; there is no bright outlook and no lesson here to learn. Just a weight to get off of my heart... God bless these people who experience loss, and have mercy on them as they come knocking on Heaven’s doors. 

I have three more weeks in Tanzania, and I feel as if there is an immense amount of Good that can still be done. But I cannot carry a smile anymore, and I need to gather my thoughts. What many Christians fail to remember is the concept of renewal. Repairing something that is worn out-- in the Christian case, being spiritually repaired by way of the Holly Spirit. Just like you sleep and eat in order to rebuild your body in a physical sense, you must also renew your mind. The circumstances of this trip have made me focus vigorously on God. Constantly thinking in terms of my faith, constantly diving into the scriptures, and constantly praying. Realistically, however; how long can you sprint before you must stop and place your hands over your head? How long can you run after God before you have pushed your mental capacity? Even God, after taking 6 “days” to make the universe, decided to rest on the seventh day. Renewal of the body and of the mind is one hundred percent Biblical. From the top of my head (to back this claim  up), it is said: The Sabbath day was made for man, man was not made for the Sabbath day. God wanted us to rest our bodies and to renew our minds. And that is exactly what I plan on doing. I am running away from Moshi, hopefully heading somewhere at the coast of Tanzania. Hopefully I come back having been eased in my heart, mind, and soul...