FOR YOUR GLORY

GUN SHOTS
October 17, 2010

At 11pm last night I was awakened by a woman yelling in desperation, “Doctor! Doctor!” Jeff and I reached the front door about the same time. In front of our house was about 20 people and a maroon car. Jeff bolted out of our gate, looked in the car and immediately back toward our yard yelling at me to get the mobile clinic keys and wake up Pete (our doctor friend from the US who is visiting).

Jeff frantically attended a man who was laying in the backseat of the car. I had no idea what had happened, but I could see blood dripping onto the ground and heard labored breathing. His wife and a few other women were wailing and falling on the ground. The men stood around in clusters. I brought the wife a blanket (it was a cool night) and sat by her side hugging her and praying over her. I was very thankful that Pete was able to help. He was running back and forth from the road to the mobile clinic bringing Jeff equipment. It wasn’t until I was called to hold the light that I got a look at the man. He was shot twice in the head. He was unresponsive with blown pupils. Jeff tried to put in an endotracheal tube but with so much blood, it was impossible. Next he began to cut an airway. Jeff worked for about 30 minutes until there was no pulse. The family was told that the man had died. Immediately heavy wailing began and more people began arriving to comfort and grieve.

EARLIER IN THE EVENING

This man was playing cards at a local bar and left with a debt of 20mil (about $4). Sometime later the man who he owed showed up at his house and called for him to come out. When he did, the man shot him. Jeff heard the four gunshots a few minutes before all the people arrived (we live a block and a half away). The shooter left his motorcycle at the man’s house and fled into the woods. We were afraid the man’s family would kill him before the police found him.

The man who had been shot was the high school principal’s husband. He was the brother in law of the richest and most politically connected man in town and has many, many relatives in town. He leaves behind three daughters, ages 16, 12, and 9. His oldest daughter, “M” has been over her several times and I had told Jeff just earlier in the week that God had laid her on my heart to begin praying for and I hoped to get to know her better this year.

THE WAKE
October 19, 2010

When crises come, the community bands together. There must have been over 400 people who filed into their house to help, comfort and grieve. Shops were closed, the schools were out, and the men didn’t work in their fields. Mid-morning we walked to the house which was abuzz with people. The older gentlemen were setting in the yard, teens and young men loitered in the street, and the middle aged men were busy constructing a wooden awning for shade. The women were inside. We greeted those outside and then made our way through the simple living room filled with familiar faces. The man’s body was lying in an open coffin on a table. We hugged the family and said....well, what is there to say in a time like this? I just kept repeating the words that had been in my head since the moment they brought him to our house, “God knows.....it’s for his glory.” What a comfort there is in knowing that the God who created this entire universe is the Great I AM. I not only know him but I am known by him. He knows my every movement and thoughts, my emotions and each hair on my head.

Next, I waded through the sea of people and found “M” in her room. Oh, how I wish there wasn’t such a language barrier! I guess tears are pretty universal though. My heart breaks for her! She told me that her heart was heavy, that she had cried so much that there were no more tears. She also told me about hearing a gun shot and thinking it was thunder at first. She looked outside expecting to see an impending storm and saw her father get shot again and fall to the ground. We hugged and cried together for a long time.

THE FUNERAL

At 4:00 over 300 of us began a processional to the graveside (about a mile away on the outskirts of town). That mile, however, took us 25 minutes. The narrow dirt street was thick with people walking, motorcycles coasting and the occasional car. Stacey (Dr. Pete’s wife) and I were had back row seats on Nilsa’s (my friend) motorcycle. If the event wasn’t such a somber one, it would have been fun to pretend to be a part of Hell’s Angels (with my tattoo I’d fit right in, I’m sure).
Because there is no way to preserve a body here, the burial must take place within 24 hours. As soon as he hears word, the carpenter comes to measure the body and begins to build the coffin. Construction on the mausoleum is also begun. At the graveside, the coffin is slid into the mausoleum. An assembly line of a few men is made to carry buckets of cement to seal the end. As soon as it was closed people began leaving. The family stayed huddled around the tomb. As I gave the family a hug, both the wife and “M” told me to thank Dr Jeff for attending to their husband/father.

A sea of motorcycles heading to the graveside


Passing the cement bucket to seal the grave


"M" in the middle, her sisters on either side and her mom on the far right. PRAY FOR THEM!


Grieving with "M"


Nilsa, Stacey and I ready to go.