He Heard Him Calling

The room was large enough for Bol’s Dad to be there but Alfred was concerned with the sterile procedures and so asked him to stay outside. He could be at the screened window since we had to have the wooden shutters open in order to have enough light to see. The day had started out with the sun shining brightly but it soon clouded over making the morning light seem more like the early evening shadows approaching. As it turned out there were many people who congregated at all the windows, which cut out even more light. In spite of trying to keep the people away from the windows Alfred knew that his reputation would be at stake with such an audience. 

First things came first so as soon as the morphine was administered there was a short season of prayer. Bol was so young, had so much potential and we were so inadequately prepared...we didn’t even have the proper equipment and medicine to do an adequate amputation. This was going to be a very difficult procedure. We knew that God would have to be the surgeon.

Bol was very brave when Alfred explained the surgery to him. We could see him clenching his fists and teeth but he never moved. He got along beautifully until his lower leg was completely amputated and dropped into the bucket and then he went into shock. We thought we were going to lose him so we called his father into the room and closed the shutters so that they could have some privacy.  Bol’s father was very good with him.  He comforted him by rubbing his head and licking his face just as a mother cat licks her kittens.  It took only a few minutes until Bol was revived and his father stayed by his head until he had fully recovered. Bol was in severe pain and our pain medicine was nil. Alfred felt that he must tie off the bleeders, close the wound and complete the surgery another time. As he was making this decision Bol’s father was asking me for the lower leg and foot. I knew that I must continue helping Alfred but promised that I would give it to him as soon as I could get away.

For the next hour all I could think of was, “Why would anyone want an amputated leg?” But as soon as Bol was put on the hand stretcher and carried back to his bed in the ward I went to the house, found a black plastic bag, put the foot into it and gave it to Bol’s Dad. He was very polite but grabbed the bag and ran fast as he could to the nearest tree. I could not see what happened after that. Later that evening I found someone to explain to me why it was so important for his dad to have that foot. This is the story that was told to me: