As we arrived at the stadium at 6.00am in the dark we did not realise it but there were already well over 1000 people waiting outside the gates for us. After setting up all the different screening areas and rows of chairs for waiting patients, we were ready to begin and the first prospectives began to dribble in. My area to see patients was away from the rest of the screening, near to the exit (ironic - pretty much like my work, the last port of call before the way out!). As I started to see my potential patients, to tell them that there was no cure, no treatment that would help, I watched those who had been successful walking past happily clutching the yellow patient cards that will admit them to the ship and possible life changing surgery. I began to realise that life here is such a fine balance between potentially life saving treatment and accepting that you may never be able to afford or obtain the medical care you need.
Around mid morning, I noticed that the flow of patients had stopped. Little did I know of the crisis that was unfolding outside. The crowd outside the stadium waiting to be seen had swelled to numbers far beyond what anyone had anticipated. The urgent need to be seen, the desperation of so many people to seek help combined with many factors that were unforeseen, even by those crew who had been attending screening days for so many years, meant that the crowd that had at one point been waiting in a long line morphed in to one large gathering outside the gate. The orderliness turned in to panic among the crowd as people moved forwards trying to get through the gate to the stadium. As people were crushed, climbed on and trampled in the throng teams of nurses and medics were called from their screening posts to attend to those wounded and severely injured in the crush. As the situation began to spiral out of the control of the security team and people began to try to climb over the stadium walls, the heartbreaking decision was made to evacuate the stadium. In that time several local people were injured and had to be taken to hospital by Mercy Ships crew. Sadly one man lost his life.
As everyone began to return to the ship, the emotion of the day was palpable. There were stories of people who had spent all the little money they had to come to screening from the north of the country, some from neighbouring countries and those who had slept for several days at the stadium waiting expectantly with the hope that their lives may be changed for the better. Knowing that there were so many people out there who we could have helped. All the planning, prayers and excitement at the beginning of this new outreach shattered, leaving behind a great sadness and sorrow that rocked the whole community. I feel so blessed to be part of a Christian community at times like this. A community that instead of pointing the finger of blame pulls together to praise God for his purposes, even though they seem so unclear to us right now. I have never experienced such a corporate outpouring of grief as I have seen amongst all the crew this week as we have worshiped, prayed and debriefed together.
As for the next step, we will continue to search for patients in different ways yet to be decided, praying that we will find those who God desires us to touch with his love. So many times this week I have asked why. God reminded me of the verse in Philippians 4:7 'And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.' We have no way to know all God's purposes in this world, but what we do have is a peace, an understanding that He is in control.
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