Dr. Jäggi performs surgery at Bembereke hospital

“Amen!” The short, group prayer meeting of the ward round team is over. The sun is already beating down again from a cloudless sky, promising that the day will be hot. My watch reads 8:30—time for our walk around the surgical department. After I finish in the second ward, I discover that the chief physician is not there. Yesterday he had to go to a funeral and he hasn’t come back yet.

We go into the evangelists’ office. Due to a lack of beds, it has been converted into a children’s ward again. There are some mattresses on the floor, but these still aren’t enough. Some of the small patients have to make do with tables or benches.

Unexpected Guests

The internal telephone rings: the hospital authorities are letting us know that the delegation has arrived “as arranged.” They probably agreed this with the absent chief physician. The nurses are noticeably relieved that I react in the “white” way and put off the visitors until after the ward round. An unforeseen interruption like that would not only disrupt our department, but also throw the pharmacy and cash register into disarray.

My round takes me to the gynecology department and maternity ward. I can hardly get down the corridor, because all over the place there are patients lying on the floor. It is not unusual to have 30 women to officially 19 beds. I have to carry out the upcoming ultrasound scans. Afterwards, I inquire about the delegation and find that, in the meantime, somebody has found a solution for them.

Outpatient Clinic

	Due to a lack of beds, the evangelists' office has been converted into a children’s ward

I look at my watch: 11:30 a.m., time to go to the outpatient clinic. The waiting room is packed with people; the impatient among them are already hammering on the door. Around 12:30 p.m., my translator is visibly growing more and more nervous because the official lunch break has begun. I manage to motivate him to work one more hour. Before I eat, I absolutely have to finish the ultrasound scans in the clinic.

By 3:00 the heat is oppressive, but we have to keep going. Things don’t start to quiet down in the outpatient clinic until about 6:00 p.m. The nurses have gone home. A good hour later, the benches in front of my door are empty. Now I have to quickly do the last scan and look in on the delivery room, before continuing with an emergency in the operating theatre. It’s already dark outside.

While I’m operating on an incarcerated hernia, the anesthetist is talking to the patient. I listen with half an ear. He is asking if the patient ever listens to sermons on the radio and whether he understands them. He explains that Jesus died on the cross for him and would like to save him. “Lord, let this patient see that this message is far more important for him than my operation!” I pray quietly.

Looking for Peace and Quiet

The starry African sky is shining above me. It is 9:00 now, but the day has hardly cooled down. Before I go home, I reassure myself one more time that all is quiet in the delivery room. Then I try to find some peace and quiet as well.

The telephone startles me around midnight: a man has been badly injured during a fight, knifed in the hand. If only they would fight with words instead of knives! It takes about 45 minutes to mobilize the whole team. We find out that 10 sinews in the hand have been severed. Now the pressure is on: I have to locate the ends that go together and stitch them back up. Everything else will be up to our colleagues in physiotherapy.

Two and a half hours later, I sink exhausted into my bed, only to be awakened much too early by my relentless alarm clock, calling me to ward rounds once again. “Lord, help me, despite my exhaustion, to be a tool in your hand today. Amen!”

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