| Joseph Jones
is 32 years old. His has not been an easy life.
When he was a small boy, a benign tumor began
growing on his neck. Over the years, a small lump grew into an oscar-worthy
special effect, and played lead villain for the better part of his
life. When he turned 20 near the start of Liberia's civil war, it
took a temporary back seat as rebel soldiers stormed into his sleepy
village killing his parents and friends. Joseph narrowly escaped
into the dense rainforest where he waited out the attack. Returning
home to the stench of death and tragedy, he wept freely. For many
reasons.
When Joseph speaks, he begins with a shudder
as his facial muscles tense, his eyes squint and his lips tremble.
After a moment, sound emerges - halted and pushed.
I first spoke to him outside the ship's gangway
a few weeks ago. We sat on a wooden bench together and talked, only
2 years separating us in age, only a few inches in height. Yet I
was born in one of the world's richest nations, he in a war-torn
country with no electricity or running water - where one doctor
serves 50,000 people. Our worlds met as the vast ocean between New
York and Liberia delivered a fully-equipped hospital ship and western
surgeons to his country's port.
It's often hard for me to explain to friends
and family back in Manhattan just how poor Liberians are. About
six hours from the broken-down capital, Monrovia, Joseph lives in
a village called Korkordavidtown. He sells palm oil for a living.
This consists of about seven days work collecting the palm, then
two or three days work turning it into oil. After ten days, he can
produce about five gallons of oil. This he sells for $4. So Joseph
makes about 40 cents a day, or $144 a year. He uses the money to
buy soap, clothes and food.
Joseph said his tumor made people afraid of
him. Or, if they weren't afraid, they just laughed at him. He knew
for years the only place he could get help was a hospital, but even
his wildest dreams didn't allow money for an operation. So Joseph
prayed. For about 20 years.
Now I'm a New Yorker, and about as cynical
as they come. More cynical, actually. The conversation went like
this.
"Cmon Joseph. What do you mean you prayed??
How did you pray??? What did you pray????"
"I prayed that God would bring the hospital to me. Every night."
Right.
And he told everyone in his village that it
would happen. He told them he was certain one day, he would somehow
reach a hospital and have the work done. So last year, when Joseph
heard on the radio that a hospital ship was coming for the first
time to Liberia full of surgeons who gave free operations, he wasn't
surprised. Nor was he surprised that the ship specialized in the
removal of benign tumors.
Right.
I can only marvel at that kind of faith. At
that kind of endurance. It seems far removed from the reality I
have allowed myself. Could I suffer for even 5 years with an enormous
tumor? Absorb scorn and hatred for something that wasn't my fault?
Would I pray for deliverance to an unseen God for 20 years? And
continue to believe?
Each miracle I see here brings me a little
closer.
Volunteering with Mercy Ships for 13 months
now, I've taken over 60,000 photographs. I've seen thousands of
people with unthinkable defomities, desperate to see our doctors,
clinging to a small hope for salvation. I know what poverty really
looks like. I also know what can be done about it. I've photographed
more than 20 operations on the ship, and seen the lives of the poor
transformed through the sacrifices of real life Good Samaritans
and through the funding that allows their work.
But more importantly, as I photograph almost
every patient we treat, I've had the honor of learning from these
truly remarkable people. Joseph just added his name to a lengthening
list of heroes that clung to hope and faith, refusing to give up
the fight for life and survival. I have so much to learn from them.
Joseph went home on Wednesday. The 550 gram
tumor joined the ship's medical waste, and he seemed at ease. We
were able to help him with a little money for a dowry so he could
marry his fiancee. And although the operation didn't fix his broken
speech, he struggled and grinned as he planned what he'd say to
all those who had doubted him.
"I will be feeling happy. I will tell them
all God has answered my prayer."
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