Too busy to blog

I've been really busy recently, and since it has been full of Istanbul things (things that make up most of my experience of Istanbul), I was meaning to write about it, but didn't have time until things got a bit quieter - it's all comparative since this is the last week of term and we're about to go on holiday. 

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I had two lovely visitors, arriving on consecutive days. Firstly, Julia who used to lead our singing quartet and carols in Cameroon passed through on her way from Saudi Arabia to Cameroon. It was good catch up and wander in old Constantinople with her. Then my friend Ceci, with whom I used to do everything at Christian Aid, was visiting Istanbul from her home in Argentina to train some Tanzanians. She had a few days between delivering training and attending a conference (where she met someone else who'd worked with us there). We took a little holiday together, going to a Hamam (my first time but very much not my last), wandering round the beautiful old streets and into mosques and an old church, and shopping at the pazars.

Just after Ceci left, I had a phone call from a refugee I've been working with, telling me her baby had just been born. I had the phonecall as I was leaving the house to play football, and as I walked down the street still on the phone I met a friend who pointed out that I was wearing sandals - back up the hill to our apartment once more. 

The next day I had a few hours between Reuben's swimming gala and picking the children leaving for Church Camp. It wasn't visiting hour at the hospital, and I couldn't visit with Naomi, but I was the only potential visitor, and the Mum hadn't even been able to to communicate with the doctors to find out about how her daughter (in intensive care) was doing, since she only speaks French. So I decided to take the risk that I might not be let in, left Naomi with a friend and rushed across Istanbul to the hospital. My first challenge there was figuring out where they were - she didn't know which building/floor/room she was in, and couldn't ask. I think it would have been hard to find her even if I had perfect Turkish (and I'll probably never have more than fairly basic Turkish). I followed signs for a Mother and Baby ward, and Obstetrics,  and in each place got directed to a different block and floor. Eventually I found her, and they let me in even though it wasn't visiting hour without me getting to the end of my few prepared words for why they should. The rules don't always apply to foreigners - or rather not the privileged western type. 

I spoke to a nurse, who wanted to say more than I could understand, so I 'phoned a friend'. It's something I try to save for emergencies, since otherwise all our Turkish friends will be interrupted constantly with requests for translation. The message was about an urgent need for medication for the baby. I spent a few minutes at the bedside of the mother, who was in terrible pain from the caesarean, who had only briefly seen her baby and who didn't know what was going on. Then went to intensive care, slightly apprehensive about how I would deal with the situation if it sorting it out would make me miss the ferry. After spending a while trying to understand why I was there, the nurses gave me a shopping list - once more a reminder of how well the NHS looks after us in the UK. It was just for wipes, nappies etc. and I was able to establish that they'd given her the medicine she needed. It was good to be able to let the mother know that all seemed to be well.

Visiting was a drop in the ocean, but I was glad that I'd gone. The Mother has a strong faith and had refused to have a late abortion following a scan which seems to have been completely incorrect. Having survived so much, I think her faith will give her the strength to cope with life in Turkey, but it's never going to be easy.

The needs of refugees and migrant Mums, particularly all the single Mums, are so huge. I've heard some really hard stories in the past, particularly when I was in Rwanda, but this particular Mum's stories has taken my breath away. I find it hard to balance those needs with the needs of my family and the need to think of sustainability and balance within the programme. Our needs are so trivial in comparison, yet important in their own way. On this occasion I still made it to the swimming gala (I almost missed it but I needed to hand Naomi over anyway) and the ferry, although my packing wasn't what it might have been. I had an hour to pick Naomi up, pack, water my neighbour's plants, get us some lunch and then pick the children up from School and set off. I was boiling hot as I packed, and I did so as if I was going away for a Summer weekend away in Turkey (no?) forgetting that someone had said that there was rain forecast. When we were in the ferry it started pouring, and it turned out that I should have packed for more British weather. However, in marked contrast to the refugees, it was simple for me to phone some friends for help with extra layers. 

Church camp was about 'building community', starting with the story of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. In our church here we often feel that it is a challenge to build community, when we live across two continents, and it can be a two hour trip each way to visit someone from church who lives on the other side of the city (or if they live nearby and you set off on the coast road at rush hour!). It's easy for people to stay on the fringes and not be involved. Actually, most of the people who go to Church Camp are people for whom that's in no way true. We're the ones who work with the refugee programme, serve on church committees, lead music, teach Sunday School etc. etc., but it's good to have a chance to talk and pray together (with volunteers recruited from another church to lead child care), rather than rushing round 'doing' together, and to include others.

On arrival back from Church Camp, Tim started packing to go to Barcelona for a conference. I was shattered, so I left lots to do the following morning,. I didn't really have enough time to do them so I ended up rushing into Mums and Tots (part of the refugee programme) at the last minute to find that it was the busiest week ever. There must have been 60 or more women and their children, in a room that's not much bigger than the church room at All Hallows. I couldn't communicate with more than one person at a time, with all that noise, so I relayed a few messages through a Congolese lady with a loud voice. For the discussion time she read Isaiah chapter 43 as loudly as she could and we proposed talking in pairs. It was a bit overwhelming for Naomi, who was clingy. She was shattered afterwards, she slept in the pushchair on the funicular, on the bus and up the hill for the School pick up.

Luckily, on Tuesday Naomi had the chance to sleep for ages in the morning, and that let me prepare for cubs. We had a welcome event for people who may join us next year. Istanbul may be one of the biggest cities in the world, but I recognised one of the new parents, because we'd once chatted at a bus stop in Taksim Square (equivalent of Trafalgar Square)! Another of the newcomers recognised another boy because they'd met at a beach a few weeks previously. Istanbul does sometimes have the feel of a small town in that way - but not when you're travelling around!

I've been talked into leading the littlest ones, until such time as I can persuade new parents to take over. We had 7 children, but it felt like at least 15! It was fun, but completely full on. Whilst there are a couple of boys who are more like Miriam and Reuben, I'm going to have to learn some new skills for dealing with children with much shorter attention spans. We set up a camp, and did a treasure hunt to find out different things about cubs. I think all of them will join us next year. Each meeting is going to take loads of planning and props, and lots of energy! One charming little boy who was there has developmental delay and his Mum said that it was the first.time in the year that she and her son have been here that he has been welcomed to join in an activity. Yet another reminder of how different an experience people can have in Istanbul if they're not in the privileged position we're in.