As the Anastasis is slated to begin its final sail for the ship graveyard within the next few weeks, I thought this would be an opportune time to describe life aboard, sort of a monument to a unique culture on the brink of extinction (tear).
The Anastasis is a world all its own. A young land-based missionary in Liberia, jealous of our amenities and comraderie, labeled it “floating Europe,” and proceeded to take every opportunity possible to come aboard and fraternize. Because the ship docks in countries with minimal infrastructure, it is almost completely self-contained, with everything the crewmembers need: A post office, health clinic, Starbucks-stocked coffee bar (woohoo), hair salon, bank, water purifying system, large kitchen and dining room, library, seamstress, and a state-of-the-art satellite system with (relatively) speedy internet and a U.S.-based telephone exchange. The ship is air-conditioned (usually), with running warm-water showers. It really is a rather cushy life, especially compared to what our land-based missionary friends endure. Poor things.
That said, it is an old ship. It has been in operation for over fifty years, first as an Italian cruise ship before its conversion a hospital ship. Things go wrong. The air conditioning breaks and we start to think the outside air is “refreshing”, cockroaches periodically triumph in battles with the housekeeping department, some of the toilets have seen their final flush and are completely out of service, and sometimes we’ll hear announcements like: “Anyone with a bucket, please report to C1 as soon as possible” (C1 is where I live; that was an actual announcement heard two nights before my departure when a pipe on the water tank broke off).
We also have to deal with the realities of whichever country we are in at the time. In Liberia, for example, water is scarce, so we were on water restrictions for a good portion of our time there: One-minute showers and one load of laundry every other week. As you might imagine, this leaves little room for vanity or personal hygiene: People smelled, and could be seen wearing the same outfits for days on end (or maybe that was just me). Liberia was also just coming out of a prolonged state of war, and was extremely dangerous, so we weren’t allowed out on our own. There was a strict 11:00pm curfew, which we struggled to make on several occasions, pulling up to the ship at 10:58 to the tune of Chariots of Fire (a throwback to high school – if Dad had any idea how fast I drove to make those curfews…).
I think that the culture of the Anastasis is most defined by the fact that it houses about 300 crewmembers from over 30 different countries, all living within 300 yards of each other. There are some nice big cabins reserved for important people and families in the upper decks, but most everybody else lives in tiny cabins with up to five other crewmembers. “Intimacy” takes on a whole new meaning: Nothing is sacred, not even your digestive habits, as there are only a few restricted toilets on the ship that aren’t reserved for “liquids only”. You have to sign out with a destination every time you leave the ship, so there’s really nowhere to hide (favorite pastime: Studying the signout sheet to see where everyone is, and with whom). When you get a phone call, an announcement over the PA tells you to dial 151 and the people around you cheer, then later they all ask you who it was. Budding romantic relationships are impossible to keep private (this not from personal experience, unfortunately), which I imagine can be frustrating, but it’s also a good thing in that it forces partakers of such romantic ventures to be deliberate and honest in their intentions – 300 other people holding you accountable has that effect.
Mercy Ships is a volunteer charity (as you all know from that time I begged you for money) and as such, there are things to deal with that other hospitals and NGOs don’t face. There is an incredibly quick turnover of staff, so there is a constant need to train newcomers and adapt to the way new people do things. We also have to conserve everything, as supplies aren’t readily available in the West African countries that we serve – if I had a nickel for every time I washed and re-sterilized equipment with a prominent “do not resterilize” label, I could pay for a year of Medical School. Unfortunately, the kitchen is forced to reuse everything as well, i.e. food, and we’ll often see the same meat four or five days in a row in various casseroles, quiches and stews. I do applaud the chef’s ingenuity; it often took me all the way until the end of a meal to realize we had just eaten a different version of the previous three days’ leftovers.
With so many very different people working hard together in such tight quarters, there is a sizeable potential for conflict. While there were little tiffs and dramas that broke out, however, I was shocked by just how little drama there is, largely as a result of the shared Christian faith uniting the crew members. There is a common spirit of grace and forgiveness that takes into account one others’ imperfections, allowing for bad days and bad attitudes and providing supportive encouragement. There is no better way to end a fight with someone - while maintaining and even strengthening your relationship - than to ask forgiveness and pray together for humility (and yes, that is from personal experience).
Living in this Christian community was an incredible experience, and with all the different cultures present, I honestly think it may have been a sort of microcosm of heaven (except in heaven the rooms are bigger). Surgeons are friendly and humble, they thank you for scrubbing blood off the instruments they use, and actually care about your answer when they ask how you’re doing. People do things like fold your laundry, clear your plate after a meal, and send encouraging notes (with cookies!) if they think you’re having a bad day. I often found myself wondering why my friends were being so nice.
Life on the Anastasis is difficult to put into words. It isn’t perfect by any means, and it tries one’s patience to no end, but living there has taught me many things about tolerance, grace, and friendship – and I already miss it dearly.
*Final batch of pictures: http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AbNWTNo0cN2E_
The Anastasis is a world all its own. A young land-based missionary in Liberia, jealous of our amenities and comraderie, labeled it “floating Europe,” and proceeded to take every opportunity possible to come aboard and fraternize. Because the ship docks in countries with minimal infrastructure, it is almost completely self-contained, with everything the crewmembers need: A post office, health clinic, Starbucks-stocked coffee bar (woohoo), hair salon, bank, water purifying system, large kitchen and dining room, library, seamstress, and a state-of-the-art satellite system with (relatively) speedy internet and a U.S.-based telephone exchange. The ship is air-conditioned (usually), with running warm-water showers. It really is a rather cushy life, especially compared to what our land-based missionary friends endure. Poor things.
That said, it is an old ship. It has been in operation for over fifty years, first as an Italian cruise ship before its conversion a hospital ship. Things go wrong. The air conditioning breaks and we start to think the outside air is “refreshing”, cockroaches periodically triumph in battles with the housekeeping department, some of the toilets have seen their final flush and are completely out of service, and sometimes we’ll hear announcements like: “Anyone with a bucket, please report to C1 as soon as possible” (C1 is where I live; that was an actual announcement heard two nights before my departure when a pipe on the water tank broke off).
We also have to deal with the realities of whichever country we are in at the time. In Liberia, for example, water is scarce, so we were on water restrictions for a good portion of our time there: One-minute showers and one load of laundry every other week. As you might imagine, this leaves little room for vanity or personal hygiene: People smelled, and could be seen wearing the same outfits for days on end (or maybe that was just me). Liberia was also just coming out of a prolonged state of war, and was extremely dangerous, so we weren’t allowed out on our own. There was a strict 11:00pm curfew, which we struggled to make on several occasions, pulling up to the ship at 10:58 to the tune of Chariots of Fire (a throwback to high school – if Dad had any idea how fast I drove to make those curfews…).
I think that the culture of the Anastasis is most defined by the fact that it houses about 300 crewmembers from over 30 different countries, all living within 300 yards of each other. There are some nice big cabins reserved for important people and families in the upper decks, but most everybody else lives in tiny cabins with up to five other crewmembers. “Intimacy” takes on a whole new meaning: Nothing is sacred, not even your digestive habits, as there are only a few restricted toilets on the ship that aren’t reserved for “liquids only”. You have to sign out with a destination every time you leave the ship, so there’s really nowhere to hide (favorite pastime: Studying the signout sheet to see where everyone is, and with whom). When you get a phone call, an announcement over the PA tells you to dial 151 and the people around you cheer, then later they all ask you who it was. Budding romantic relationships are impossible to keep private (this not from personal experience, unfortunately), which I imagine can be frustrating, but it’s also a good thing in that it forces partakers of such romantic ventures to be deliberate and honest in their intentions – 300 other people holding you accountable has that effect.
Mercy Ships is a volunteer charity (as you all know from that time I begged you for money) and as such, there are things to deal with that other hospitals and NGOs don’t face. There is an incredibly quick turnover of staff, so there is a constant need to train newcomers and adapt to the way new people do things. We also have to conserve everything, as supplies aren’t readily available in the West African countries that we serve – if I had a nickel for every time I washed and re-sterilized equipment with a prominent “do not resterilize” label, I could pay for a year of Medical School. Unfortunately, the kitchen is forced to reuse everything as well, i.e. food, and we’ll often see the same meat four or five days in a row in various casseroles, quiches and stews. I do applaud the chef’s ingenuity; it often took me all the way until the end of a meal to realize we had just eaten a different version of the previous three days’ leftovers.
With so many very different people working hard together in such tight quarters, there is a sizeable potential for conflict. While there were little tiffs and dramas that broke out, however, I was shocked by just how little drama there is, largely as a result of the shared Christian faith uniting the crew members. There is a common spirit of grace and forgiveness that takes into account one others’ imperfections, allowing for bad days and bad attitudes and providing supportive encouragement. There is no better way to end a fight with someone - while maintaining and even strengthening your relationship - than to ask forgiveness and pray together for humility (and yes, that is from personal experience).
Living in this Christian community was an incredible experience, and with all the different cultures present, I honestly think it may have been a sort of microcosm of heaven (except in heaven the rooms are bigger). Surgeons are friendly and humble, they thank you for scrubbing blood off the instruments they use, and actually care about your answer when they ask how you’re doing. People do things like fold your laundry, clear your plate after a meal, and send encouraging notes (with cookies!) if they think you’re having a bad day. I often found myself wondering why my friends were being so nice.
Life on the Anastasis is difficult to put into words. It isn’t perfect by any means, and it tries one’s patience to no end, but living there has taught me many things about tolerance, grace, and friendship – and I already miss it dearly.
*Final batch of pictures: http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=8AbNWTNo0cN2E_
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