I was not appropriately briefed...

Wow. No, really. Wow.

Earlier this week I made my first visit to Lugbeye clinic. For those keeping score, that means I’ve so far managed to visit two of four clinics I am responsible for. Yay, me!
Lugbeye (loog-bee-yee) clinic is located right on the top corner of Nimba county, a stone’s throw from Guinea. It’s a town (village?) of approximately 3500 people. Why was I going to Lugbeye? Well, for one, I’m responsible for the clinic that’s currently there. It’s a tiny, mud-brick building of maybe 6 rooms with a latrine, and placenta, sharps, and burn pits out back. It’s tiny, hot, dark, and the doors are only about 5 feet tall. Ouch.
But really the reason I went is because I have to build a new clinic. Yep. I get to build a totally new clinic from the ground up in Lugbeye. It’ll be about 14 rooms, approximately 250 square meters. It’s quite exciting, really.

But that’s not why I said “wow.”

No, I said “wow” because, as I alluded to in the title of this post, and as I remarked to my Project Coordinator during my visit, I was not appropriately briefed.

So, some backstory?

Any time you visit a village, you need to speak with the head man (chief) of the village. In this case, we had wanted to do a quick visit of the clinic and prospective site for the new clinic and then be gone. So we sent one of our outreach team to talk to the chief the day before and let him know we are coming.

Now, the part that we didn’t think about was who was coming. In this case, the visit consisted of an outreach worker (Florence), a doctor (Daniel), the project coordinator (Annette), myself (me), and then not one but TWO head-of-missions. Both Sebastian (outgoing HoM), and Christian (incoming HoM), were also tagging along.

Apparently, the head man for the town received this information and decided that he had the Lugbeye equivalent to the President of the United States visiting. Really.

We managed to enter the town with a minimum of fanfare, and made it to the clinic without incident. As we were inspecting the existing latrines, our ears perked up. Was that drumming (sangba)? Huh. Well, ok, off to the sharps pit.

In truth, it was sangba. Three guys were walking along the path to the clinic. OK. But then a crowd started to appear. Then more of a crowd. Then even more. Then the head man. He came along and told us that we would begin the program down at his house.

Program?

OK, we’ll walk to the head man’s house.

By this time, pretty much the whole village has come out to greet us. Sangba players are playing, and women are singing, dancing, children laughing, we’re surrounded. And so we begin a parade through town, escorted by the head man and Officer In Charge (clinic administrator). And it really is a parade…We move at a snail’s pace, shuffling our feet. As we walk, women are bent over in front of us with scarves, brushing off the ground we are about to tread upon. Behind us come the drum players, singing and beating out rhythm. In front of us are two women carrying a long scarf, held between them, to make sure no one got too close to us. People were waving, smiling, wanting to shake our hands. About halfway into the walk, a traditionally garbed woman appeared, in full regalia, to dance in front of us the remainder of the distance. We walked past the schoolchildren, all gathered together, singing a song. The 100 meter walk took approximately 45 minutes.

Then we arrive at the head man’s house. Here, apparently, the program can begin!

It was a full agenda. Of course, we were all seated outside on the ‘veranda’ so the whole town could gather around to watch. It was kicked off with a prayer, led by the town priest. Then, the opening ceremonies, including introductions of everyone from both sides (all expats, the headman, the OIC, the priest, the village elders, etc). Of course, this had to be done in both English and Manu. Then the introductory statements from the head man, the OIC, and our Head of Mission (he wasn’t appropriately briefed either J ).

Then they introduced the school choirs. There are two ‘schools’ in Lugbeyee, one Baptist, one something else. They were obliged to perform two songs for us in front of this tremendous crowd. That was really, really nice. They did a great job.

After that, I think (things start to run together now), we had a traditional sharing of a kola nut. Then our Project Coordinator (Annette) was presented with a billy goat for bringing this new clinic to the town. Then there was more fancy talk for the crowd. Then we talked a little business. Then we concluded the agenda with another prayer. Then, finally, we could go to the planned ‘construction’ site.

Well, except that we had to do that in processional as well. At least now they stopped cleaning the ground in front of us, they took down the scarf, and we could walk at a more normal pace. But still the drum players were at it, and the dancer led the way, and the whole town went to the site with us.

So we looked at the site, the new head of mission and myself, with the outgoing head of mission and Annette drawing off the crowds a little bit so we could get some things done. We had to measure, plan, discuss, etc.

Then they wanted to know when we could start building. Yikes! We don’t even have a plan yet! We settled that we would have a meeting with the town Clinic Construction Committee (22 members) right then to discuss the plan. We ask them, “do you have a plan?” “Yes, we already have a plan.” Oh, well, then, ok…let’s talk plans! Before we enter into a meeting for this, they need to talk amongst themselves about the plan again, to make sure they’re all on the same page, maybe?

They needed about 25 minutes to discuss their plan for the clinic. It was a very vociferous talk, much gesticulating, much jumping up and down. Finally, they were ready to talk about the plan.

Which, of course, means we have to walk back to the head man’s house. In procession. Thankfully, Annette and Sebastian have still drawn off the bulk of the crowd, so it’s only the dancer, drummers, a couple dozen committee members, and three or four dozen villagers.

The meeting, of course, requires yet another round of introductions. Once those were done, we said “OK, so your committee has talked about the plan?” “Yes. We have talked about the plan.” They’ve taken almost a half hour to talk about the plan. “So. What type of plan have you come up with for this clinic?” A long, long pause. Then, the chairman of the committee reaches out with his hand, puts it on my knee. “Well, we have decided that your plan is very much our plan. So, why don’t you tell us your plan, and then we can discuss it.”

Ah.

We shared our plan. It was, as far as they were concerned, a perfect plan.

*sigh*

Then we could wrap up the meeting, I agreed to come out again next Monday and have a draft of the plan on paper for the work to start. They will keep making mud bricks in my absence.

Finally, hours later, we are ready to go back to the land cruiser. Well, we’re ready to start back to the land cruiser. Of course, we can’t just walk back, we have to be led. Drummers come back out, the traditional dancer leads the way…Along the way back, the dancer ‘challenges’ us – while the drummers are going, she clears a space, moves up front, and performs some sort of traditional dance back to us (where we’ve been obliged to stand and wait). At first, honestly, it’s quite intimidating…Mostly, for me, only because I don’t know what the proper response should be. Do I just stand and watch? Do I respond in some way? The whole village is watching! Eep!

I settled on responding by mostly standing there, but when she finished her dance, I initiated one of my own. J If you remind me, I have the last part of the dance in a movie file…My HOM was too slow to get the whole thing, but he got the last bit.

The best part about it was when I started to dance, the village absolutely erupted with cheering. It was downright deafening. Honestly, I think I looked quite foolish, trying to imitate her dance while wearing my MSF T-shirt and carrying a big red backpack, but apparently, in the eyes of the townspeople, I got points just for trying. It felt really nice.

So, eventually, they got the goat strapped to the top of the truck, and we could trundle off.

It was an interesting day…I was not appropriately briefed for this visit. The highlights, for me? For the first time, I got to hear some real drumming. I got to see a traditional dancer. I got to visit a village where no one speaks English (they all spoke Manu). For the first time, I really felt like I was in Africa.

And it was great.