Canterbury

My class headed to Canterbury for two days after the end of exams.

We really are a lovely bunch. It's been a pleasure and a privilege to study with such brilliant people this last year. I'm so glad that we got to spend a last bit of time together before we disperse to the four corners of the earth (literally).

Hurray for friends, yummy food, slightly disorganized cricket matches, and loads of public health related jokes that we alone are likely to find funny.

On our way to a party...

She says it better than I can...

I wish I could write poetry because I love it. But, in the absence of such a skill, I am thankful for others who can express so beautifully the things I have trouble putting words to.

I write my last final tomorrow which means that I am quite close to being done grad school. Which means that change is coming, which means that I have decisions to make, which means that there is another adventure in the wind. I'm certain of it.

And I am certain that there is goodness in store that will come wearing a thousand different faces. And so I love this poem, because I can see the light spilling too, and I plan to be there soon.

Walking to Oak-Head Pond, and Thinking of the Ponds

I Will Visit in the Next Days and Weeks

What is so utterly invisible

as tomorrow?

Not love,

not the wind,

not the inside of a stone.

Not anything.

And yet, how often I am fooled-

I'm wading along

in the sunlight-

and I'm sure I can see the fields and the ponds shining

days ahead-

I can see the light spilling

like a shower of meteors

into next week's trees,

and I plan to be there soon-

and, so far, I am

just that lucky,

my legs splashing

over the edge of darkness,

my heart on fire.

I don't know where

such certainty comes from-

the brave flesh

or the theater of the mind-

but if I had to guess

I would say that only

what the soul is supposed to be

could send us forth

with such cheer

as even the leaf must wear

as it unfurls

its fragrant body, and shines

against the hard possibility of stoppage

which, day after day,

before such brisk, corpuscular belief,

shudders, and gives way.

-Mary Oliver-

Who do you see...

...curiously etched into this ancient artifact currently housed in the British Museum?

(Hint: Leads a world super power)

Reasons I have not blogged...

First, Gemma and I started slipcovering all of our living room furniture. We are still slipcovering our living room furniture. Well...actually, we're kind of on a hiatus. We both have degrees to finish!

My room became filled with a terrible odor which turned out to be mold or something growing on my damp, London window sill and I was busy lighting candles every evening to try and decrease the stench: success!

I bought a little, yellow ukulele and I play it an awful lot. Most often late at night. Thankfully my nearest house mate is also a bit of a night owl and doesn't mind my nocturnal jam sessions.

I spent the month of April in Uganda doing a research project for my graduate degree. It was a study examining how women are affected by inadequate sanitation in urban slums. April was an almost perfect month.

I've also been busy playing with my friends.

We did have a long weekend, during which I could have blogged, but I went canoeing/camping instead!

House mate Mary got engaged and former house mate Laura came back from Madagascar for a visit. Here are the ladies of 63 Manor Park Road up late making invitations!

Then two of our chickens got sick and required quite a bit of loving attention. Here is Annabel in the tub. I think she hated it.

Baby Cris...

One afternoon, near the end of my time in Mozambique, I was working at my desk in the main office when one of the staff came to tell me that two women had brought a sick baby to the farm.
I went out to greet them and they handed me a bundle of blankets, inside of which was a very tiny baby boy.

I took the bundle to the office, laid it down on my desk and started peeling back the layers. It reminded me of the time in Uganda when a badly burned young girl was brought to us. Her family had wrapped a cloth around her burned arm and a part of me just dreaded taking off that cloth- I was afraid to see the extent of her injury. With this baby I was afraid again.

I finally unwrapped the smallest baby that I had ever seen. His tiny bones were jutting out all over and he was clearly dehydrated and listless. We weighed him and found that he was only 1.5 kg.

His mother had died shortly after his birth and he was left in the case of his two aunties and his father. Initially they had given him formula, but then they ran out of money and had started giving him water. They realized that they needed help and made the trek to our farm. I think the baby was about three weeks old when they first came to us.

I really wasn't sure what to do with a baby that little so I decided to take the family to our nearest hospital, which was about half and hour's drive away, and consult with someone more knowledgeable than I. The nurse we spoke with seemed totally nonplussed by the situation, an attitude which in this case was actually quite relieving. According to the baby's birth record he had only weighed 1kg at birth, so even though he was only 1.5kg, he was gaining weight, and that was a good sign.

We took the family back to their home and they were enrolled right away in our milk program. Because the baby was so tiny they came in for weekly follow up appointments so we could weigh him and make sure that all was well. And all was well! The little guy packed on the weight and started looking so cute and hydrated.

His family asked me to name him, and I named him after my brother: Christopher. In Mozambique (rather, in Portuguese) that looks more like Cristofer. However, he ended up being registered as Cristofa. I liked it. It's a bit gansta, no?

Here he is at just over one month. He had already gained a good amount of weight by this time!

After I left, Lynn was kind enough to send me this picture. Look at those fat cheeks!

Just recently Lynn put these up on her blog. Look at Baby Cris now! He is such a big boy!

And so handsome!

Here he is with his aunt and their new tin of formula. Go, Cris, go!

Cristofa still has a lot of obstacles in front of him. Surviving past the age of five is tricky in countries like Mozambique where preventable and treatable illnesses are still taking such a devastating toll. However, he is plugging along and I am so grateful for that, as well as for his loving family who take such good care of him.

Lynn was also just writing on her blog that they have seen an increase this year in the number of mothers seeking nutritional assistance. If you would like to read about it or if you would like to donate to the milk program, you can find Lynn here.

I highly endorse the program...and so does Cris.

A hint...

You may be studying in England if you note either of the following:

Tea breaks written directly into the lecture notes.

Mums (also in the lecture notes).

It all so adorable!