Water stains draped the wall in the sterile supply room. Holes revealed a crisscross of corroded pipes. Medical ward stooped under a mess of plaster and sheet rock patches that constituted a ceiling.
Peter Numa, a contractor from across the valley, made his assessment quickly: “Best hospital in Papua New Guinea; not the best facility.”
As administrator of Kudjip Nazarene Hospital, I tried not to take it personally. I had heard it from many consultants in two years, and though coworkers and staff rarely voiced it, I knew it was something we all felt. In Kudjip, an outpost three times wetter than the rainiest city in the contiguous U.S., things tend to fall apart.
Having received a $2 million grant from the Australian government, we debated how to fix the walls, patch the gaps and install new wiring and plumbing, but we wondered how long the repairs would last. We feared for patients recuperating in the middle of a construction zone. As the registry of problems grew long, it became clear we needed a new hospital.
Meetings, phone calls, consultations, flights and over 4,000 e-mails dominated the next three years. The resulting “paper trail” more closely resembles a highway, filling 10 feet of shelf space. Modifications, adjustments, re-scoping and addendums were as endless and tedious as they sound.
The first attempt at a floor plan was a feeble one. “I’m trying to design a new hospital,” I wrote in an e-mail to my son on February 21, 2007. “It would help if I could create squares/rectangles. Do I have a computer program that will allow that?"
I pieced crude, geometric shapes together and typed a list of contents into the spaces, everything from power plugs to massive autoclaves. My errors were gross but with the help of consultants and a heavy dose of perseverance, the drawings were transformed into something buildable.
From Alaska, Mike Chapman left a home and career to come with his wife and serve as project manager. With his help a construction company was hired from a nearby town and laborers from surrounding villages. Bearing tree-limb shovels and scarce else, they daily descended into a maelstrom of wet concrete and mud, erecting and connecting seven buildings covering 25,000 square feet. The largest building, covering much of what used to be a soccer field, contains six delivery rooms and is twice the size of the old obstetric unit.
Mike Chapman, of Alaska, has served as project manager for construction and
preparation of the new hospital. Photo courtesy Kudjip Nazarene Hospital
Facebook page.
Don Strand, a veteran of hospital construction in developing countries, flew from Medford, Oregon, to help us with design. Bob and Carol Arrom, doctors from Ohio, scrounged up 80 new hospital beds and shipped them. We now have 130 beds, up from 96 in the old facility, where patients frequently slept on the floor. There is also more space between each bed.
Jim Moore, Bill Wright and Ken Thomas of the relief organization Samaritan’s Purse provided, and continue to provide, technical expertise and solutions to our equipment needs. A new generator, X-ray machine and autoclave are on their way. My own father came this year. Though 80 years old, he put in 10-hour days polishing toilets, sweeping walkways and planting jungle flowers under the windows of each ward. More than meetings and documents, it was this kind of commitment, sacrifice and effort that brought the new hospital into being. Dozens of others were intimately involved, all with hearts of compassion and willingness to give.
Government, church and tribal officials flew, boated and trucked their way to a celebration ceremony, attended by a crowd that numbered in the hundreds. "It is a great privilege for me and for Australia to share in the wonderful work being done at Kudjip Nazarene Hospital,” said John Feakes, deputy high commissioner of the Australia High Commission.
Local communities, too, expressed deep pride and strong support. “Now we see that our children and our grandchildren, even those not yet born, will have a hospital to care for them, said a councilor called Moro on a recent tour of the new complex. “It means everything to us.”
On November 4, we wheel the last of our inpatients into the facility and open the doors to receive new ones. A steady stream of carts and wagons and boxes over the past six weeks has emptied the old hospital and now fills the new. In a spirit of deepest gratitude and clear determination, we move into the new Kudjip Nazarene Hospital.
I’m not sure what Peter Numa meant when he called us the best hospital in Papua New Guinea. If he meant we prepare the best, invite the most and care the deepest, well that is our goal, and we’re grateful for a new home in which to do it.