The muzungus were invited to a big hospital meeting this week
although we had no idea what it was going to be about. In the meeting room everyone
seemed very solemn except for the woman asleep on a desk in the corner. It was
held in Swahili so I am still none the wiser. I understood every 20th word, "....because.........but.........then........extra duty (that one was in
English).....holiday......problem". It may have been something to do with
the hospital having no money which seems to be a recurrent predicament wherever
I work. I spent the time people watching. I still don't know many names but the
man was there who looks like a human Hush Puppy and so was the guy who is
always chewing a toothpick. Someone else fell asleep and I stared at Hush Puppy
man. Then it was over.
The only difference? There's a mirror in the VIP cubicle |
Today's Swahili lesson day was called At the hospital. I now know how to say My private parts are aching (Ninamaumivu sehemu za siri) and The tests
show that you have gonorrhoea (Vipimo vya maabara vinaonyesha unaumwa
kisonono). I am also good with Swahili anatomy. E.g. breast = titi. More
than one breast = matiti. The list of vocabulary that I had to learn included test(s) which I initially thought said testes in which case I was going to tell
the teacher to forget any further classes. There's no doubt people passing the
room wondered why I was repeating breast,
breasts, private parts, itch, diarrhoea,
gonorrhoea, I have diarrhoea, you have gonorrhoea, nurse please come and take
him to the laboratory - after that we will know what he is suffering from,
breasts, itch, privates....Next lesson is going to be a big anti-climax.
Just some of the mangoes that hit my roof each night |
I also went for my first run today. Waited until 6pm so it was
less hot (30 degrees). Everyone was very smiley as I dragged myself onward, soaked and wheezing.
They waved and shouted "Hongera!" (congratulations), but they probably
thought, crazy muzungu. Four young girls ran alongside me in school uniform - they stopped when I stopped, ran when I ran, (cried when I
cried). It was really cool. But they didn't break a sweat and were chatting and
probably doing their homework all the while. Saw some beautiful countryside which is so green at this time of year. Sadly, my IPOD got stuck on Africa theme so Circle of Life and
Hakuna Matata were playing on loop...I refer here to an earlier post that explained
my playlist was selected by someone else...
At work (for it is not all play, I promise) I went on the
surgical ward round with the doctors. My only saving grace was the fact I'd had
a light breakfast. It's hard to describe what you see on the wards.
Patient after patient with open fractures after falling from a mango tree, a
coconut tree, or after being in a piki-piki (motorcycle) accident. Wounds
exposed to the air - bone, muscle, flesh - with the traction weights consisting
of plastic bottles filled with sand. The man with an incision from sternum to
pubic bone, fastened together with huge, crude, metal staples. The man whose
face had been half eaten by a hyena. He has no eye or nose, cheek or lips. The
woman who has spinal injuries and can't walk, but because there is no such thing
as rehab here, gets sent home. There's only one wheelchair in the hospital, the
physiotherapist told me. The man with a colostomy bag made out of an empty
cashew nut packet, stuck to his skin with glue. The children with amputated limbs courtesy
of gangrene. I could go on. The saddest thing of all is that no-one ever cries
not even the children, but you can see from their faces they are in agony. As
we left the ward, a woman was wheeled past us on her way to the ICU. I
remember her face clearly; her eyes wide with fear. She was staring, unblinking,
grasping the hand of a woman walking with the trolley (Nurse? Relative? Did she even know?). In the
medical meeting the next morning I heard she'd died of an asthma attack.
It is a good thing I go on these rounds. Both from a
clinical pharmacy point of view and the simple fact it's a stark reminder of
the lack of quality healthcare the average Tanzanian has and Nyangao is the best hospital
in the region for surgery. People travel from as far away as Mozambique to be
treated by Dr Janki, the renowned Nyangao surgeon. My memories of it are dirty
bed sheets, human bone, flies that won't fly away, and the smell of rotting
flesh.
Claire.
ReplyDeleteAm loving your blog :) thank you so much for sharing with us all.
Have to admit, that whilst i've been to a pretty 'poor' hospital before - Colostomy bag made from an empty cashew nut packet - takes the biscuit.
I'm kind of glad i'm not going to be working in health... not sure I could hack it!
Glad all seems well - let me know if you hit the 3 month downer... you might be able to take a coach (or two) to see me in Lusaka! Suzanna xxx