Edwin

Kos “Edwin” Tapi

On the walk over to the surgical ward Dr. Bill briefed me on Kos’s condition and my assignment. I was to collect his story and put it down on paper. Bill asked, “Meghan, have you ever written for a newspaper?” Even though at first I didn’t verbally respond, I thought to myself “Fake it till you make it, Meghan.” Here I was a “white mari” in the middle of a room full of sick and dying people all by myself. The boy to my right had just had his leg amputated and the doctors were sending him home with only a few weeks to live, yet he was smiling at me. To my left was an old man who was skin and bones and hooked up to a number of things I did not understand. Right in front of me was Kos. How was I going to communicate with this little boy? He did not know English or I Pidgin. In fact, even his Pidgin was poor. As I looked around the room and saw everyone staring back at me, I realized that I would never be able to fully understand the life of a Papua New Guinean. There was a barrier between us that felt like a mountain and somehow I was supposed to overcome it.
Kos sat on the bed by his father, Paul, with his left leg dressed in bandages. Across from him was Joe, a national who translated for us. I was very uncomfortable asking the father so many personal questions and what made it even more difficult was that the majority of the surgical ward had gathered to listen. Growing up in America as the daughter of a psychologist, I learned to practice confidentiality, and here I was prying into this father and son’s life in front of a crowd. Then I remembered what Bill had said as he walked out: “Ask as many questions as you can think of. No question is a bad question.” So, I gathered my thoughts and pressed on.
Kos, who later was baptized as Edwin, was probably about 8 years of age, but according to his father he was around fourteen. Many people in this culture do not know their actual age. Edwin had been in the hospital for three months and he had a smile that could melt your heart. I posted a picture of him on the internet and the first response to it was “Seeing this kid made me instantly happy. I love it!”
I learned that Edwin is the son of Paul and Warame Tapi and is also the last born. He has two brothers Peter, age twenty-three and Malice, age eighteen. He also has a sister named Catherina who is sixteen. All three of the boys had gone or were currently enrolled in school. Catherina had not gone to school but instead married. Paul explained that Edwin had a sore on his leg that had become infected. It began to get worse and eventually he could see most of Edwin’s bone. Dr. Erin Myer reports:

“Kos presented with his tibia – the large bone in our lower leg – exposed through the skin. He had what is called osteomyelitis – an infection of the bone. The infection gets into the bone, likely from an initial infection of the soft tissue around his bone, or from an infection in the blood which went to his bone, and never got treated. Over time the infection of the bone causes bad infected bone – sequestrum, to form. This needs to be removed one way or another. If the sequestrum isn’t surgically removed, the body does its own surgery and sends it out of the skin. In its place involucrum forms – this is new bone which is healthy and will take the place of the bad bone which is gone. Kos presented with osteo and with the sequestrum starting to come out of his leg. He was given antibiotics to treat the infection, and then taken to surgery to remove the sequestrum and to clean out the infection. Over 3 months his skin has started to grow back over his leg. When he leaves and recovers he will be able to run and play and be a normal kid.”

With this information I began to realize the severity of the battle that Paul and Edwin had just endured. Paul and Edwin are from the Upper Ramu and live in a bush village called Kumbo. Together, Paul and Edwin walked three days and two nights to get to Kudjip to the Nazarene Hospital. If you are familiar with Papua New Guinea, that is half way between here and Madang! As I explored deeper into the events that had taken place in their journey, I learned that the trip was neither easy nor safe. Between the injured leg, rough terrain and the potential encounters with rascals, Paul and Edwin found themselves in an intense situation. Paul had never been to Kudjip before but he had heard that if he wanted the proper help for his son he should go to the Nazarene Hospital. What no one told him is that the Nazarene hospital does not admit patients from out of their region. Uninformed of this fact Paul set out on a journey to save his son.
The first morning they woke up and prepared a single bag with clothes, a blanket, some cassava (food), and 100 kina. They headed out of their village at 7am, not stopping until 3pm at Gary’s house in Kuima. Gary was Paul’s tambu (brother-in-law). They stayed there for the rest of the night and gathered their strength. I wanted to know more about where Paul was from so I asked him if a person could drive to his village or if they could only walk. He said that not only can you not drive, there is no trail from Kumbo to Kuima at all. In fact, the closest airstrip to them is in Middle Ramu. So basically, Paul and his injured son had just trekked 8 hours through the rainforest during monsoon season carving their own trail.
The second morning they walked from 7am through the night arriving at the village of Tabi only to start up again at daylight of the next morning. They had stayed at a man named Fabian’s house and he was kind enough to feed them. They reached the road the third day around 6am at Tapi. They took a 20 kina PMV and traveled through the villages of Numba, Karap and Kaul before reaching Banz at 9am. They met a man there who helped them the rest of the way to Kudjip and stayed with them at the hospital. At the hospital, they were asked to come back the next day. The man from Banz offered them a place and brought them back the next morning. I asked Paul if his original plan was to come to Kudjip and he said, “Yes.” However, he did stop at the Tabi Health Center to have them look at it. They told him to go on to Kudjip. I asked him what he would have done had he not been admitted here and he said he would’ve traveled on to the hospital in Mt. Hagen.
As I sorted through my mind what Paul and Edwin had been through, I couldn’t help but think about the two day hike I had endured several weeks prior. Day two we traveled 16 hours through the rainforest on no trail battling 6 hours of it in the dark. We passed through raging rivers and climbed up and down the mountains which were essentially cliffs. We had found ourselves in a very remote area of the bush. I remember at one point climbing back up a mountainside because we had run into a waterfall and our only choice was to go up. We were depending on roots in the side of the wall to support us as we climbed. I remember praying every step of the way, “Lord let there be a strong root next time I need one.” I began to think about Exodus 23:20 that states, “See, I am sending an angel before you to lead you safely to the land I have prepared for you.” I began to imagine that the Lord had known I was going to be exactly where I was at that exact moment and that I would depend on His one single root or His one single limb to take me one step at a time to a safer place. Who knew that three weeks later that would be the only thing I had in common with the bush man and boy that sat in front of me looking at me mesmerized by my white skin and green eyes.
I had only a small glimpse into their world and their struggle but I knew there had to be more to the story. I took myself back to that place in the rainforest and the questions came spilling out. As Paul spoke about the mountainsides and trails, vivid pictures ran through my head. He had to cross two large mountains and two rivers. He said that Edwin was a strong kid and that he walked the whole way with his infected leg wrapped in a blue bandage. When they came to the river it was large and rushing. He threw Edwin on his shoulders and battled forward through the waters that had reached his chest. I asked him if Edwin was scared or if he cried and he said that Edwin persevered but by the time they had reached the road the third day he was in much pain. As they traveled in the PMV towards Kudjip, Edwin began to vomit and it was then that he shed his first tears.
Edwin stayed in the hospital for three months. His father had run out of money and for the last week and a half of their stay they had depended solely on the water and kau kau (potatoes) that were served everyday at 3pm. Paul and Edwin had answered many of my questions. When I ran out of things to ask, I went home to get candy, crayons, coloring books, beads, and string to bring back to the ward. Before I came to Kudjip, I had children in Nebraska color white paper bags with pictures and had them write notes on them for the kids here in the hospital. I filled the bags with the supplies and hurried back to the ward. I spent the next three afternoons with Edwin, Paul and the rest of the surgical ward. It was then that I learned so much about Edwin, not by his words but by his actions.
We colored together and tried to converse, but mainly we just laughed back and forth. Other kids congregated, so I filled more bags and before I knew it the surgical ward had come alive. Edwin taught me his favorite church song called “Likim God,” and the whole ward sang together over and over. Two boys by the names of Iso and Carson had taken a liking to Edwin over the time they had been there. Edwin considered Iso to be his new best friend. I taught them how to put beads on a string and connect the dots in the coloring book. They taught me how to act like a bird and I taught them how to act like a fish. They even took a pen to my skin and before I knew it I was covered in tattoos of trees, rivers, flowers, and people. Their names and the alphabet were written all over my hands. I really enjoyed watching their creativity unfold as they played with their new things. They made tail feathers out of pipe cleaners and beads and crosses and swords out of play-doh. I taught them how to take pictures and live video on my camera and watched as they went around the room asking people if they could take a picture of them. As we slipped into the imaginative world, we became photographers and film makers and would show others what we had created. They giggled and squirmed as they watched live video of themselves and before I knew it they knew how to work it all by themselves!
Most impressive was their ability to share what little they had. As I handed out candy to them I asked them if they wanted to share it with the other kids in the ward. The three of them got up, all with leg injuries or infections, two of them on crutches, and walked around the room handing out candy to the kids and asking them their names. By the third day we had ventured into all of the wards handing out candy and meeting new people.
On the third day I had the nurse take off Edwin’s bandages for me to see. From what I could tell, Edwin was doing a lot better and the doctors were ready to send him home. I said goodbye to Edwin on a Thursday evening. He was to be discharged the next morning while I was teaching school. They were going to travel back the same way they came, yet they had no money for the PMV or food. I struggled with the idea of not knowing what would happen to Edwin and his father but I couldn’t help but praise God for his love and care of those who are suffering. I defaulted back to the same verse that came to me in the rainforest, “See, I am sending an angel before you to lead you safely to the land I have prepared for you.” I was renewed with hope, knowing that God had sent an angel before them on the way to Kudjip, and had faith that God would send an angel before them on the way from Kudjip.
It was surreal to me that although there was a huge barrier between myself and Edwin, there was a very apparent and deep connection forming among us and the other patients. As humans, we are relational beings. We need each other. I often wonder if God sent me here to help others or if they are here to help me. I hope it is both. As Edwin and I shared a few moments of our life together, I realized that I was not alone in that ward. I saw first hand that no mountain can separate us from the love of God. No pain, no circumstance, no distance can keep us away from Him. Paul, Edwin and I have some things in common. We all have overcome the mountain, the barrier, both literally and figuratively. Paul’s love for his son motivated him to get Edwin to Kudjip at all costs. Just as God’s love for us did the same. And it was God’s love that broke through all the hearts in the surgical ward and brought us together. We had overcome the mountain together because of one truth: God’s love penetrates all barriers.