She was my baby sister, I was a serrogate mother at a certain time of our lives, she became a partner in ministry later on, and she was always a wonderful friend... and I lost her too soon. I have never really gotten over her early death. I lost part of my life with her death. The memory of how she looked lives on in Susan and in her daughter, and I love her grandchildren and know she would have been a caring mother and a super grandmother to them, had she lived.
People who knew her when she was an adult never realize that she had a very stubborn streak, which our mother tried to punish out of her. If she felt she was right, she stuck to that against all odds and persuasions - and that was even as a little child! The first time I saw her was when she was about a week old. In those days small children were not allowed in hospitals and birthing mothers had to stay in hospital for a couple weeks. And I wanted to see my new twin babies. So my Dad wheedled the night nurse into letting him sneak me in the hospital and up to the nursery window, where she rolled the two babies close so that I could see them! I can still remember how happy I was - and that was seventy one years ago!
When they finally came home with our mother, the two babies were in one carrying basket, one at either end. I was allowed to hold them, one by one, and I was so proud. There was enough difference in our ages, that we were never in competition. Donna was a letter writer. A couple years ago, a friend of Donna's in Western PA sent me a packet of letters that Donna had writen to her so many years ago. She always wrote to me too - averaging at least once every two weeks and sometimes once a week. So we stayed in contact that way until she and Uncle Jim were married. At that time she wrote to me of how our mother did not want her to marry Jim - they thought she was too young, and he didn't have any money and neither did she. She was not a happy camper during those months, and she poured out her heart to me in her letters. They did get married and managed fine and were very happy. I have written before in my blog of our visit to them in Maine and our cross country trip together during our first furlough. Dad and Uncle Jim also hit it off well and are still friends, living in the same town in retiral.
I have already written about the fun times we had on the field: at the Guinguette, at field conferences, at ICA on vacation, at Sanekui, in Koutiala. We had been on vacation together that year at the Guinguette, and they returned to Mali so as to get the kids ready for school. It was not long afterwards that a terrible tagedy happened for our family. Donna had a terminal illness!
Contacts between Mali and Burkina were not so good in those days so we seldom wrote letters back and forth. Dad and I were in youth camp one Sunday morning and the service was going on. He was on the other side of the auditorium from me ( in good African fashion!) and I saw a motor bike come in and someone gave him a message. He came around the building to where I was sitting and called me out. Jim and Donna had just driven in from Koutiala. Donna was brought in lying on a mattress as she was too weak to walk or to sit up. They came right to our house in Bobo, and wanted us to come immediately. What a change in a person! She was weak and wan, had lost weight, she was very, very sick. We got her comfortable in our big bed and I stayed with her while Dad went into town to call an American doctor to come. He was a Christian and there in Bobo for a year or so to work at the Centre Muraz, which was a special diseases center in town and known throughout West Africa. He had been friendly to us and the mission, even regularly donated money for the church.
He came with his doctor's bag and immediately examined her. He was pretty sure what she had because of a certain test he did on her arm, but he did not tell us then that she had aplastic anemia - a diease very difficult to cure, and no possibility to cure right there in the middle of Africa! Uncle Dave and Aunt Margot were also there and of course the whole Albright family. We were told by the nurses from Koutiala that Donna had been violently sick and the drug of choice they gave her was what the French called typhomacine (sp?). Unfortunately, she was one who was hypo-allergic to this drug and it dragged her down to this blood disease. The best thing to do was to send her to the States as soon as possible to get a sure diagnosis and get her on the right medication.
Things went into gear quickly after that - the Baptists flew their small plane down from Ouaga to pick up Jim and Donna and take them to the plane in Ouaga to fly to Pittsburgh. The school age children stayed with us and we got them ready for ICA. It was a traumatic time for us all.
Soon the diagnosis came back: it was aplastic anemia and she needed a bone marrow transplant. We and Kennedys were at Bouake when we got that word, and it was arranged to have Dave and me fly to Pittsburgh and be typed to see if we could give her what she needed to stop the disease and get her better. I think we must have taken the boys with us on that trip. Anyhow, we got to the States, and the next morning we went to the university hospital and blood was taken for tissue typing of our systems. We came out a perfect match for each other and neither of us could help out our poor sister. She was in the hospital and I sat by her many hours. She thought she might die immediately and she was making plans for Uncle Jim and her children. I cried till I wondered that I had more tears. She even gave instruction on who she thought Uncle Jim should marry!! Aunt Donna was a great planner - just like me!
The good thing abour being there for three weeks (that was the cheapest ticket we could get) was that we were able to be there with Uncle Jim when he rented a house and we helped move in furniture donated by churches there, and I could cook for the family. I also cooked some food ahead to freeze to help out Uncle Jim when he would be alone. And Uncle Dave and I went back to Burkina again. While we were in Pittsburgh, I was able to spend some time with Clousers and held my beautiful first grandson, Daniel for the first time. He learned to crawl while I was with them too.
Donna got to the place where she was not really well, but she could function. with getting a transfusion of blood every Friday. They were sent to California to Simpson College to be missionaries in residence there. Dad and I and you, Mark, went out there to visit them. Dad and I drove across the country - a beautiful trip! - and you flew, Mark. Your school was glad to give you time off school because of the education you would get in travel!
After that year, Uncle Jim and Aunt Donna asked to go to Paris and work there, so the Mission sent them and they had a very profitable time in Paris. Returning from a trip to the French doctor in Paris, where she got another weekly blood transfusion, Aunt Donna had a massive hemmoraghe and Uncle Jim could not revive her. And there she was buried in the city of Paris, where we went to see her gravestone some years later. And so my dear, beautiful baby sister went to live with Jesus, leaving her large extensive family grieving her death and remembering the beautiful life she lived!
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