When Schweitzer got back to Andende in April 1924, the jungle had moved in. The hospital he had built with such labour had fallen down and was covered in undergrowth. So he began to build the second hospital.

Again the hospital grew. So much so that after a while it became obvious that there was no longer room on the Mission site for all the patients to be accommodated, the infectious ones and the mentally sick isolated.

Two miles or so down the river was another site. A place where there was plenty of space, but where the whole business of building would have to start yet again, from the very beginning.

The Third Hospital

It was autumn 1925. Every day any patients or members of their families who were able were transported to the new site and work continued on the cutting down and sawing up of the giant trees, the clearing of undergrowth, the killing of snakes, the breaking of stones and levelling of the ground. Here’s how Schweitzer described it:

A day here moves on like a symphony. Lento: They take very grumpily the axes and bush-knives that I distribute to them on landing. In snail-tempo the procession goes to the spot where bush and tree are to be cut down. At last everyone is in his place. With great caution the first blows are struck.

Moderato: Axes and bush-knives move in extremely moderate time, which the conductor tries in vain to quicken. The midday break puts an end to the tedious movement.

Adagio: With much trouble I have brought the people back to the work place in the stifling forest. Not a breath of wind is stirring. One hears from time to time the stroke of an axe.

Scherzo: A few jokes, to which in my despair I tune myself up, are successful. The mental atmosphere gets livelier, merry words fly here and there, and a few begin to sing. It is now getting a little cooler too. A tiny gust of wind steals up from the river into the thick undergrowth.

Finale: All are jolly now. The wicked forest, on account of which they have to stand here instead of sitting comfortably in the hospital, shall have a bad time of it. Wild imprecations are hurled at it. Howling and yelling they attack it, axes and bush-knives vie with each other in battering it. But – no bird must fly up, no squirrel show itself, no question must be asked. no command given. With the very slightest distraction the spell would be broken. Then the axes and knives would come to rest, everybody would begin talking about what had happened or what they had heard, and there would he no getting them again into train for work.

Happily, no distraction comes. The music gets louder and faster. If this finale lasts even a good half-hour the day has not been wasted. And it continues till I shout "Amani! Amani!" (Enough! Enough!), and put an end to the work for the day.”

The buildings were constructed to Schweitzer’s own specifications, raised on piles to let storm water flow beneath, every building aligned with the course of the sun (which on the equator is always the same) so that the rays could not penetrate under the wide eaves. The side walls were made of metal mesh to keep out mosquitoes and let every breeze through. And the wood was very hard, which had made the building very laborious, but when it was done Schweitzer said "Any termite that tries to eat my hospital will have to see a dentist."

He made a vegetable garden on little terraces, and planted a fruit orchard, so that there would always be enough fruit for anyone.

It was over a year before the patients could be moved into the new quarters. But the improvement was enormous. “From all the mosquito-curtains there looked out contented faces. ‘What a fine house you've built us, Doctor!’”

This was the foundation from which grew the famous hospital which the world knew as Lambarene.

Between January 1927, when the first patients moved in to the new hospital buildings, and 1965, when Schweitzer died, the hospital never stopped growing, Schweitzer never stopped building. What he had planned as a small clinic was finally a village of 72 buildings – including a fully equipped operating theatre, air-conditioned X-ray room, laboratory, dental clinic, delivery room, doctor's offices, and dispensary. There were six fridges and two deep-freezes. There were six doctors and thirty-five nurses. There were beds for six hundred patients, and between six and seven thousand were treated each year. Nearly a thousand operations were performed, mostly hernias, but including urological, gynecological, abdominal, orthopedic and some eye surgery. About 350 babies were born each year at the hospital and a large number of patients were treated in outpatient clinics.

Animals were an important part of the hospital. They served as pets, but also their manure was useful for the vegetable garden and the orchard. And above all they represented in a practical form the Reverence for Life that Schweitzer preached. They all had their respected place in the life of the community.

Schweitzer himself had a number of pets at different times, and sometimes all together - a pig, an antelope, a pelican, an owl, a dog, a cat... Several of them slept in the tiny room in which he lived and worked, writing late into the night after a hard day’s work around the hospital, healing and building.

The hospital is still standing, so sturdily was it built. For the moment it’s only a museum, but plans are being discussed to restore it where it has deteriorated and use it as a youth centre and for ecological experiments and demonstrations, bringing Schweitzer’s thought into the twenty-first century.

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