Editor's note:
I have modified this letter somewhat for blogging presentation. Sister Campbell is definitely feeling the passion and pain of missionary service. Send her your good thoughts and prayers!
From Sister Campbell: Next week, on April 2nd, 2012, I pledge to send pictures. I will collect more actual "good" pictures this week. For instance, when we go on our outing to Shumen as we are planning to just now! So wait.
This was actually a surprisingly difficult week/few days. I keep forgetting it's only been since Thursday. Time is kind of compressed and yet expanded here, like cookie dough inside of a tube that is condensed and yet . . . expanded. You know what I mean. After Zone Conference, at which I stood up in front of everyone and announced that I had not memorized the thing we were assigned to memorize because I am like that, we streetboarded for a while (I call it 'streetbirding' in memory of Taylor) and then were called by Elise, who has been panicking because her son, Giorgi, is really sick with a high temperature (when people say celcius temperature measurements my instinct is to still make fun of them for being wrong/very low), and she didn't know what to do/didn't have money/the father kept spending medicine money on alcohol, etc. So we went with our awesome senior couple, the Eames', and one of the strongest members, Radka, to her house, and gave Giorgi a blessing.
It was kind of cute because he wouldn't hold still and Elder Eames lit'rally had to chase him around the room with his hands outstretched toward the general vicinity of his head while giving the blessing.
Saturday: Three lessons canceled on us (worse than being stood up for a date, somehow) and we sort of had a meltdown. It's funny how I keep talking in the plural as if I am a plural, but it just feels like I am sometimes these days. Then we managed to get it together to teach a family (who spent half an hour showing us their HUGE RIDICULOUS SHINY PINK wedding videos of their son that summer, which even involved the women's henna party/eating bread and salt I've always heard about!). And they're awesome.
Church was fast . . . and testimony meeting! Hahaha. Not actually "fast." But all was well. But THEN. I forgot to mention that on Saturday, Elise called us in a complete panic, like hyperventilating and screaming "My son! My son!" and hanging up and then we'd call her up and it would be the same thing, but with Giorgi screaming in the background. It turns out, we ascertained over a long stretch of time, that Giorgi had put his hands in a pan of hot frying oil and pretty much burned them off, or at least really badly. So we rushed, on Saturday night, all the way out to Galata again (the dog/urine place) but she was already at the hospital. So on SUNDAY we went to her hospital to see her. It was literally the worst place I've ever been to, including Chuck E. Cheese.
Anyway, back to the hospital. It used to be a military hospital,but was really run-down and from the outside, looked to be non-functioning, given the holes in the walls/areas with no roof/etc., except for the rows of babas sitting on the benches in the front. That sight made my heart sink, because I knew that yes, this pile of bricks and asbestos was actually a place to take care of sick people. The first three entrances we went to were broken, so we had to go all the way around to the back, to the Emergency Room, which was more of a kind of pool hall-looking place, complete with nurses smoking cigarettes, for Elise to come down from her ward to talk to us. She was all red-eyed and panicky and jumpy, and explained to us that she hadn't slept in three days, especially since the doctors working on Giorgi were frequently negligent/did dangerous things/make fun of her for crying while they peeled the burned skin off of her son's hands, and the nurses would threaten her physically if she complained about it. I could go on, but basically there was no food/sleep for her to be had, Giorgi's father refused to help her, and we are little innocent privileged missionaries trying to help her get baptized. It was one of the most helpless/overwhelming feelings I've ever had.
So I don't know. There that is, if you want to hear about how I'm such a Cool White Person learning sad things about Cool Poor People and how Real and Eye-Opening it is. I won't say anything political, since I'm sure that's the most painful topic in the states/world right now, but I'll just say this: wouldn't it be nice if single mothers never had to worry about their kids being hurt by doctors/not being able to pay for keeping their kids alive? I think that would be nice.
It's a helpless feeling, but all I can say is I really do believe that there's a way, somehow, for the suffering in the world to be overcome. All of it. And I know that it will be, if we let it happen.
Anyway. We are probably getting transfer calls (!!) this Friday, so we'll see if I stay here for two/nine weeks. This was a mini-transfer of six weeks, so the next one will be longer. Believe Christ, everyone. It's fun, I promise.
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