Silent hero’s

This week I had the privilege to jump in a vehicle with a couple of expats on a mission.

They were heading out West to visit a lad who had fallen off a roof as an young teenager and was paralysed from the shoulders down.

A horrible thing to deal with in a modern first world country but here the challenges are far far worse.

The lad was now 27 and one of the expats I was travelling with was involved in helping improve his living conditions.

He (the lad) lived at home with his two brothers. They were his constant carers 24/7. They lived in a very basic one room house with equally basic cooking/bathroom facilities. No fancy showers or wheel chair access here.

Along came Winston and it destroyed their other brothers house, so the boys took him in – the added issue though was he had a wife and 5 kids. Things were getting seriously cozy.

I am not sure how but their plight came to the attention of lovely man who very quietly and unassumingly comes to families aid in these situations. He organised the building of an extra room so the paralysed lad could have space and privacy.

As we visited with this young man he was lovely, great english and so polite. He was just a thin wafe laying on an old hospital bed, with an aging mattress covered by a faded sarong and a catheter line dangling from the beside him.

One of my companions was a nurse who was bought up to ensure the lads health was ok because his benefactor was concerned. As it turns out the poor fellow has had an ulcer on his knee for about 10 months. It certainly grossed out this non nurses eyes but my friend showed true staunch form and got up close and personal (nurses are such incredible people I have the utmost respect for them).

The brothers love and care was unquestionable but their resources limited and support nil. The lad was not in a good state under the faded floral sarong.

While I chose to head outside trying to look unfazed by sight and smell my friend gently questioned the brother on how they cared for their crippled sibling. A shower once a week because it was so difficult to do more with what they had, bed washes otherwise, sheet changes when they can, wound dressing a piece of gauze and salty water to cleanse it.

I was so impressed with this family of boys aged 20 something, no sign of any parents, only one bringing in an income of $160 a week, 3 brothers, one had a wife and 5 little kids. Living in a now 2 room hut, cooking over a open fire outside, no power (thanks to Winston) and yet impeccable manners and hospitality.

How my expat friends found them I don’t know, but I am so thankful to know someone has seen their plight and without any fuss they are providing a helping hand. No hand outs either, the brothers have to work on their home, swing hammers and dig trenches....they are more than happy to do this for their beloved sibling.

Heading home the discussion was the immediate need for the paralyzed lad. He needed hospitalisation, a serious dose of antibiotics and some good nursing or he was going to die. If he lives then he needs a wheel chair that tilts back so he can get out into the sun (he can’t sit upright) a new mattress, commode, the list was long.

There was just one thing wrong here, my friends were having to work quietly, behind the scenes, no names, no big organisation. Why, because as expats they cannot do anything in Fiji without a permit and if you volunteer you could well be taking a job off a local.

So it’s a quiet word here and phone call there, behind the scenes and unassuming but still getting the job done.

Where are the aid agencies in all this – it is probably not a good topic to bring up with these seasoned expats, nor do you bring up religion coz in their eyes every church/religious leader has an agenda here, as do politicians’ and heads of govt departments.

Behind the scenes of this island paradise there is a bunch of hardy expats who don't get to sit in resorts and drink cocktails or sun themselves on sandy beaches. They are here for a long time not a short time, they see the faults, get frustrated at the difficulty to get anything done without a huge paper trail. They swelter in the hot season, pay exuberant prices for simple pleasures like vegemite or a decent bottle of wine.

Some are chasing down rabid dogs, others sneaking in to paint a hospital ward over a weekend, or in a back room packing up food parcels or building homes for misplaced families living under a tarp, just to name a few of their exploits

I met some the other day...they were pretty cool people.