“Here in prison

rage contained in my breast

I patiently wait

for the clouds to gather

blown by the wind of history.

No one

can stop the rain”

– from “‘Here in Prison” by Agostinho Neto, first President of Angola (1975-1979), PIDE Prison, Luanda, July 1960

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I recently found myself with some time on my hands, and so I decided to pick up the slender volume which had been lying around in my bookcase for a while. For me, books often serve as a sanctuary for lived experiences and stories that resonate with the human experience, unveiling narratives that delve into historical landscapes, human resilience, and the indomitable spirit that thrives amidst adversity. “No One Can Stop the Rain: A chronicle of two foreign aid workers during the Angolan civil war,” authored by surgeon Wein Cheng and financial administrator Karin Moorhouse, takes its place within this realm, offering a poignant exploration of their eight-month odyssey as aid workers in Angola.

It is written in an interesting format, with the two authors writing different sets of chapters. Wei writes with the measured grace of a surgeon, while marketing executive Karin writes with flair and flamboyance. The difference in their writing tones is quite overt, and makes for very interesting reading. The book follows a somewhat epistolary tone, with the 66 chapters sounding like missives from Angola. This might actually be reflective of the fact that the book was born from the wavemail updates Wei would send to his friends overseas from Angola.

Karin draws out some of the history of Angola. The almost five-century-long colonial rule by the Portuguese (with a small intermission where the Dutch took over), the impact of the slave trade, and eventual independence in 1975. This hard-earned independence was promptly followed by a civil war between the government forces and the rebel group called UNITA, which was led by a charismatic, yet brutal Jonas Savimbi. In the three decades between independence and Savimbi’s eventual killing in 2002, the fight between the rebel UNITA and government forces reduced Angola to one of the most dangerous places in the world. Karin and Wei produce some statistics showing the ghastly effects this continuous fighting on the Angolan people. Grimly illustrative, these statistics collated by Karin and Wei underscore the deleterious impact of sustained warfare, exemplified starkly by the alarming statistic that one in three children succumbed before reaching their fifth year. As a public health physician, these were numbers I could not reconcile myself to see!

Wei writes with the deftness and precision expected of a surgeon in the operating room. Wei mostly writes about the incredible patients he managed, and while I read on, I marveled at the surgical prowess he must have possessed. He did everything from cesarean sections to burn contracture release, from skin and tissue autografting to amputations… I was particularly struck by the clinical manner in which he described the very disturbing facets of patient care in the midst of conflict. His writing, usually dispassionate and clinical in its precision, however, brought me to the brink of tears when he suddenly changed tack while writing the last chapter where he bids farewell to his team. Eight months, he reasons, is a short period in the terms of a person’s lifetime, but it was long enough to forge friendships and relationships that endured time, distance and communication barriers.

There are a few humorous chapters and narratives – it is not all doom and gloom. Interwoven within this somber tapestry are moments of levity. One particularly light hearted chapter is about the couple’s encounter with a chook (Australian slang for chicken – Karin was born and grew up in Australia), which they wanted to cook, but nobody really had the experience, or the stomach, for actually killing and gutting the bird. The surgeon eventually managed to take over the task and get it done. There are some other narratives peppered in the book, where the couple speak about funny encounters. There are also some hair-raising chapters, such as the one where the couple and their driver are accosted by aggressive policemen looking for a bribe, or the one where a belligerent drunk tried to assault Karin, or the one where a lumbering drunk Angolan started stalking Wei and Karin as they walked home from the hospital (not advisable), until the drunk man stumbled on a pothole and fell face down. These episodes, while seemingly incongruous, provide a holistic portrayal of life within a conflict-stricken landscape, particularly illustrating what happens when a three-decade-long civil war is mixed with plenty of guns and cheap booze.

Although I say that Wei writes with the clinical detachment expected from a surgeon, not for a moment do I mean to imply that his writing does not cover the treacherous fate doled out to his patients. There is a very natural sense of warmth and empathy that suffuses his stories, even when they are told with the staccato precision of a clinical note.

The book is a very interesting read, particularly because both Wei and Karin were poised to have high flying, high paying corporate careers, from which they disengaged for a while, in order to serve with Doctors Without Borders in Angola. This is something that I personally draw some inspiration from. Perhaps, one day, I shall be able to do what these two achieved…

One topic that Karin returns to multiple times is how the uncertain, yet slowed pace of life in Angola allowed her to have many a human moment, which she usually missed in the hustle and bustle of her corporate life in Hong Kong. She speaks about silent elevator rides with colleagues in Hong Kong, and contrasts it with the cheerful greetings she would receive from rank strangers on the streets. She speaks about this in many different settings, and for some reason, I find it a very interesting experience. She managed to find a certain modicum of peace and human connection in a land wracked with decades of civil war, while she could not find that in her developed world life!

Another interesting trait of the book, which adds to the epistolary tone, are the black and white pictures which come at the ending of most chapters. While most of these photos were too blurry or pixelated to make much out of them, I found myself wondering if he had sought written informed consent, or maybe even consent in any shape or form, from the many patients whose pictures he displayed in the book. Ethical considerations aside, these images offer an authentic portrayal of the environment, inviting reflection on the nature of consent and representation. Furthermore, the photographs reveal Wei’s multifaceted talents, extending beyond surgical precision to encompass artistic endeavors such as oil painting.

Overall, this is an arresting read. At less than 300 pages, this is a quick and fluid read. Written lucidly, with a captivating tone which keeps vacillating depending on who is picking up the story thread, this is a wonderfully engaging book to read. At its core, “No One Can Stop the Rain” is an arresting testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Despite its slender built, the book weaves an intricate tapestry of compassion and courage, inviting readers to contemplate the far-reaching impact of even the briefest of encounters. As I navigated the narrative through my own cognitive haze, the book’s allure only grew stronger, serving as a beacon of inspiration that guided me through the labyrinth of words.

Another interesting aspect, one which is quite unexpected in a book about humanitarian health challenges and civil wars, is the fact that there is a certain tenderness and love in the way in which Wei or Karin write about their spouse. This is made amply clear in the way Wei speaks about Karin, especially in the chapter where he gets to welcome her. Wei had joined the program 8 weeks or so ahead of Karin. The angst and longing with which he speaks of Karin in this period is enchanting, to say the least.

I would definitely recommend reading this book if you’re into this kind of reading. It is told in a simple and elegant manner, often talking about distressing things in a matter-of-fact tone which brings a different dimension of the issues to the readers. I needed a couple of days of intense reading to get through it – like I said, I have been trudging through it amidst my brain fog – but it was time well spent. The book’s brevity belies its profound impact, as its pages serve as a conduit for poignant reflections on the indomitable human spirit. While traversing the book’s terrain may demand intense concentration, the effort is unequivocally rewarding.

Pick up a copy!