Dragonflies

I live in a world of incredible suffering and stunning beauty.

As the tall grass itches the backs of my calves I let myself down to the ground. I slip off my white and orange Crocs and use them as a mat. The soccer match is already underway.

The agility, grace and power of the players makes me forget their ages until halftime when the team sporting white t-shirts with their names handpainted on the back rushes by me and past the church yelling my name and shouting "lapia". It's then I remember they're just little kids.

They come back skipping, laughing and smiling, each with a half-eaten, half-ripe guava in hand ready for the second half.

There is not a single artificial sound to be heard. Just the gentle rustle of the breeze in the drying out remnants of the millet harvest, the distant shouts and babble of the kids joking in Nangjere and the buzz of a million dragonfly wings.

I let my focus drift off the obvious, sprawling lushness of the rainy season African bush and onto what hovers between earth and sky so startingly blue it almost hurts to the hundreds of seeming motionless hovering dragonflies. They are evenly spaced about a meter apart and at seemingly haphazard levels that nonetheless give a sense of order in some weird mathematical way.

The light has taken on that quality one only finds right before it sets low enough to turn color but after it's reached it's peak where it shines directly. The billowing white clouds make a perfect canvas to reflect the brilliance of the sun's perfect angle and to mute it just so it brings out everything in a sharpness of detail not noticed as absent until it rarely presents itself.

I feel transported to another time and another place. A time and a place where I wasn't watching babies die every day. A time and a place where it's almost unheard of for a woman to have lost a child tragically. A time and a place where I wasn't the only doctor for hundreds of thousands of the poor and suffering. A time and a place where I don't feel overwhelmed almost constantly. A time and a place that for me is a fading memory reawakened occasionally by miraculous, dragonfly filled moments.

As the kids resume their match, some older boys start a small circle of soccer "foreplay". Each one takes the ball and bounces it off a knee, or feet several times, maybe a head bump or two and then passes it to the next guy...hopefully without ever letting the ball touch the ground.

Four younger kids are alternately sprawling around, rolling back and forth and chasing a tiny, pink, half-deflated ball back and forth.

All the children on the field (and off) are barefoot except for one who looks like he's wearing army boots and socks three sizes to big. The score is one to one.

Behind me, I notice a newcomer on the scene. A boy about 12 or 13 years old. He's crippled. He has a single homemade wooden crutch. One leg is severely shortened causing his whole body to swerve and lean. Somehow, he still manages to join the boys in their game, kicking the ball around with both feet as he hops around on his crutch.

I call Tabegue, Samedi's nephew, over and tell him I want to talk to the handicapped kid.

His story is tragic, yet all to common here in Tchad.

In 2002, he was just running and then felt his leg "give way". According to him, it was "out of joint". He had many traditional bone setters try and put it in, but it never healed right and he's been crippled ever since.

I have him lie on the ground as all the kids not playing in the match gather quickly around to watch. His left knee is about 10 inches shorter than his right. His left lower leg is normal. His hip has a surprising range of motion, but there is a bony mass sticking up, out and back.

What probably happened is something that in the developed world would be operated on right away with a few pins and six weeks later he'd be back walking hardly knowing that if he'd been born in a different country, he'd be handicapped for life.

I tell him to come see me the next day at the hospital. I hope to be able to help him.

He still hasn't shown up...but the dragonflies hover on.