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A UMNS Commentary
By Phileas Jusu*
3:00 P.M., October 31, 2012 | FREETOWN, Sierra Leone
Phileas Jusu Jr. lies weak with malaria in this 2008 file photo. The
author’s son battled malaria a second time this summer at age 9. UMNS
photos by Phileas Jusu.
View in Photo Gallery
It was 9 a.m. Tuesday, July 31, 2012. From my bedroom, I heard a thud in the sitting room.
I rushed out of the bedroom to find Phileas Jusu Jr., my 9-year-old
son, convulsing. He was violently wriggling on the floor, hitting
chairs, tables and everything within reach; his eyes turned grey as he
struggled to breathe. With all my strength, I yelled, “Junior! Junior!
Junior! Can you hear me?” He did not respond.
Almost weeping, I snatched him from the floor and rushed him
outside. Immediately, neighbors surrounded me, attempting to rescue the
situation in different ways.
Pastor Sony, my neighbor, rained prayers as he seized the boy from
my grip. “Father God, take control! I come against every demonic attack
on this boy’s life in Jesus’ name.”
Lebbie, Gandi and other neighbors quickly gathered my family and
drove us to King Harman Road Hospital in western Freetown. At the
hospital, Junior was diagnosed with acute malaria and immediately
admitted.
Junior, as he is commonly known at home, had arrived the previous
day from a weeklong United Methodist Children’s Camp in Kenema, eastern
Sierra Leone. He complained of a headache; I felt his head and it was
warm.
The next morning, I gave him some malaria tablets — as is usually
done in our heavily malaria-prone country — and observed him for a
while. He eventually dozed off on the couch, giving me the impression
that he was getting better. Though I had dressed to go to work, I
decided to stay home for a few hours to observe his condition.
I came out two times to observe him and began to feel that the fever
was gone for good since he seemed to be fast asleep. I eventually fell
asleep myself before being suddenly awakened by his fall.
‘He’ll make it in Jesus’ name’
Road conditions are often difficult in Sierra Leone. Henrietta Emmanuel
and Catherine Norman call for help while the author captures the scene
with his camera during the journey home from Modema.
View in Photo Gallery
I am a member of the Imagine No Malaria
team of the United Methodist’s arm to fight malaria in my annual
conference. My job requires extensive travel, most times into very
remote parts of the country as we provide education, treatment and health facilities for needy communities. But occasionally, my work is interrupted as family, too, is affected by the disease.
In 2010, Peter, my younger son, was hit by malaria when I was in the
thick of a nationwide malaria campaign in Bo, southern Sierra Leone.
At that time, I had to balance my job and attending to an ill son. When
Junior was stricken, I was supposed to meet other colleagues to finish
plans to travel to Mondema, a remote village in the Kenema District.
The United Methodist Health Center there has been in disuse for more
than 15 years since the Sierra Leone civil war ended, but the annual
conference health board is in the process of reopening the facility to
deal with the high rate of malaria and maternal mortality rate in the
community.
I called the office to inform my colleagues about the emergency.
They sympathized with my situation, and the meeting went on without me.
At the hospital, one of the nurses gave me a prescription for
Junior’s treatment with the urge that I must buy the medication
immediately. I rushed to the hospital pharmacy to get the prescribed
drugs. Several thoughts raced through my mind: What if he doesn’t make
it? What will my life be without the boy? But another thought quickly
erased all of that: He’ll make it in Jesus’ name!
As a news writer, I have experienced parents and relatives of malaria-infected patients in the past telling me their stories
of how excruciating it feels when loved ones are infected or die of the
illness. But it is totally a different feeling to be the one going
through the experience. This particular incidence has helped me to
understand better the emotion of the people I have met in the fields in
my role as a church communicator and a member of my conference’s team to fight the disease.
As Junior was being discharged from the hospital, Peter began
showing symptoms of malaria infection. He had refused food for the
whole day and sat resting his head on the table. It was already getting
dark, but I wanted to do all I could to avoid the Junior experience, so
I rushed Peter to a nearby health center. I resolve that no more will
my children attend a camp in the provinces if no malaria preventive
care is taken.
Better understanding
The doctor told me 20 hours after Junior was admitted that if we had
not acted quickly, it would have been fatal. As my children recovered,
I reflected more on families in remote communities that are less
fortunate. After all, I live less than two kilometers (about 1.2 miles)
from the hospital. While my children regain their health, dozens of
other children are dying in communities that are not blessed with
similar resources. I also recalled the indescribable devastation I felt
as I watched my son wriggle on the floor.
I am now writing a project that will fund a bed-net supply to the
United Methodist Children’s ministry. If approved, the ministry will
use the nets at every year’s camp and will keep them at the end of
program to be used the next year. This way, malaria infection at each
year’s camp will be considerably minimized.
We eventually made the journey to Mondema the following week to
assess the health center renovation needs and sketch out the cost
involved.
We noticed that a makeshift government health center had recently
been opened in the village, but local staff said that regular supply of
basic drugs to the health center remains a challenge. On the day of
our arrival, there was no anti-malaria drug in the center — they ran out
the month before our arrival. Reopening the United Methodist health
center can improve on the provision of health services in the
community.
Upon my return, I discovered that Junior was still weak and
emaciated as a result of the heavy dose of drugs administered to him to
save his life. I am troubled by his look, but I now have a more
informed reality of the devastation malaria can mean to a family
directly affected by the disease.
*Jusu is a communicator for The United Methodist Church in Sierra Leone.
News media contact: Joey Butler, Nashville, Tenn., (615) 742-5470 or newsdesk@umcom.org.
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