Jordan came with us to the hospital Monday morning to find out why she was still not getting better. She got lost in a mess of African malaria patients who were waiting for results just like her, only she had an amoeba. We named him Carl. It was Ashley’s first week at the hospital and Naiomi’s last week.
It’s such a rewarding feeling to see patients who have come in with the no hope in their eyes and unpromising wounds coming in now with smiles stretching from ear to ear, giving us high-fives and their wounds making miraculous recoveries.
The week was pleasantly uneventful and we spent most of our nights singing to our favorite Enrique Iglesia song, working out in our hot spandexes, witnessing Rachel attempt to pole dance on Jordan’s bed post then ripping her skirt, giggling at How I Met Your Mother in Jordan’s bed then tickling each other’s backs until we fall asleep. Completely normal behavior.
Friday Rachel and I spent the latter part of the day in the labor ward with Philipo, where we witnessed our second fetal death. The mother and baby had been completely fine a few days before then the mother had felt ill and instead of going to the hospital went to the Duka la Dawa and took malaria medication causing the baby to become hypertensive. The next day she gave birth to a dead child who would have survived if she had just gone to the hospital. I was in charge of cleaning and wrapping the baby up.
We shadowed Philipo in the rest of the check ups and examinations of the women who were already in labor. We took the heart rates of the babies, checked to see how dilated the mothers were and listened to Philipo’s mini medical lectures.
After work Jordan and I went to the roof of Haria Hotel to say our last goodbye to Juli and Pari, the girls from our safari. We then continued on to meet the rest of our group at Deli Chez for Ami, Naiomi and Grace’s goodbye dinner. It’s a bizarre feeling knowing that it may be the last time I’ll ever see these people again.
Saturday morning..ish Jordan, Rachel and I headed up to Marangu to meet up with Craig and the two Dutch girls we had met a while back. Going to Marangu always has it’s share of challenges. After we finally caught a daladala, we were once again hassled into paying four times the amount we should to get there, then squished next to some sort of drug addict who wouldn’t stop touching us while other random body parts were pushing against us from all sides. When we arrived in the pouring rain we were swarmed by the locals trying to convince us to take their taxi.
We made it up to the girl’s house though, and like always, were speechless at the sheer beauty of Mishiri’s rainforest. We enjoyed coffee grown and roasted by their neighbors and freshly roasted peanuts while we waited for the heavy rain to slow enough so we could hike to our campsite.
With our sleeping bags in plastic bags, we set out in the rain. We stopped at random houses, churches, and coverings along the way to rest and avoid the heavier downpour. We reached the campsite drenched and looking like wet rats, where we met up with Craig, Nelson, Nick, Bryson, Kath and Hue. We all had dinner together and laughed as we shared embarrassing stories about Tine (one of the Dutch girls) since it was her birthday. The night also consisted of cake, laughing, dancing, music, laughing, fire, laughing and ended with Jordan, Rachel and I snuggling in our warm dry tent.
The next morning we packed up and then spent an hour hiking all around the mountain trying to find somewhere that was open that had eggs and onions for breakfast. After forty minutes of searching and an additional three hours of cooking without power, we managed to make pancakes, eggs and coffee. It was worth the wait.
Before heading back to Moshi, we stopped at a waterfall. We all just basked in its beauty in silence.
When we got home we all crashed some of us sick and some just tired. Jordan and I have stayed home two days in a row now with fever, aches, amoebas, ring worms, headaches, stomach pains, running noses etc… Hopefully tomorrow we’ll make it to work. If not…it’s more How I Met Your Mother.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Bomba
The rainy season has officially begun. Unfortunately, there is no break from the heat. The rain clouds are only acting as an incubator in which to make us sweat at an even greater rate.
Last night, we got another volunteer from Boston. Ashley was thrown into our room where she was faced with the three of us, all of who haven’t showered the entire weekend or left the room for that matter, huddled around a bag of Raisin Brand that I had just discovered in the fridge from a previous volunteer. We all paused, mid stuffing the next handful into our mouths to give an awkward smile and slip out the word “Hi” without spitting out any of the cereal that was crammed in our mouth. I’m not sure what she thinks of us but I know what I would think if I was her.
Monday morning Jordan and I headed up to KCMC to sit in on a class at the University. We jumped on the first daladala that we saw, which just so happened to be fifteen people past it’s maximum capacity. We were forced to feel our way through a mess of hips, legs, heads, arms and hands to find a pole inside to hold onto while the rest of our body hung outside the small van. Shutting the door wasn’t even an option seeing as there were two other people besides us hanging out with us. We received a handful of cheers from people on the street as well as others shouting at the driver for making us hang on instead of sitting inside. We were somewhat skeptical about the likelihood that we would be able to sit-in on a class but even after thorough persuasion from Junior and Nathan that there would actually be a class today, we arrived only to be informed that the teacher was in fact not showing up until Thursday.
So, instead we found a table under a tree and decided to attempt to learn Swahili. After about an hour, they claimed we were horrible students while we stick to the story that they are horrible teachers and we decided to just eat lunch instead.
KCMC is about fifteen minutes away from Upendo Orphanage, where the rest of the volunteers in our house work. Since there was nothing more to do, Nate, Junior, Jordan and I thought we would spend the remainder of the day there. Thanks to our wonderful guides, we somehow made the fifteen minute journey into an hour journey at the hottest part of the day. When we made it there, we met up with Ami and Francisca who were playing with the kids outside. Despite how cute they might be, I discovered that the getting peed on, boogers wiped on, dirt thrown in the face, hair pulled and endless crying was not the right match for me.
I was happy to be back at the hospital the next day with the blood and puss. Nothing huge happened throughout the week. Lots of stitches, babies, abscesses, broken bones and dressings. One man who has elephantitis of the scrotum finally was operated on. When he came in a few months ago, his….boys, were honestly the size of two small watermelons. He couldn’t fit into any pants and he would walk around holding one in each hand. After his operation, they were reduced to the size of two large mangos. I was the lucky one chosen to dress him with another nurse. It was a long process seeing as he had drainage tubes, catheter changes, stitches the entire length of his stomach and then the actual scrotum area itself. The doctor said he was progressing well but the next morning when we came to work, Kische, another head doctor, said he had died in the night and wasn’t sure why.
That night, Jordan and I headed back up to KCMC to watch a football (soccer) game with the medical students. Little did we know that the game didn’t start until around 10pm and got over around midnight. Before half time even rolled around we were already struggling to keep our necks from going limp and our burning eyes even half way open. I’m not even sure if our team won or not.
Poor Jordan has been sick for almost a week now. She will be fine one day and then horrible the next. Friday was a bad day for her and I was also feeling pretty awful. We spent the day fixing our clogged sink with a coat hanger, Listerine, a toothbrush, an injection needle, a bucket, a rag, a flashlight and duct tape. Our sink now drains perfectly, smells minty fresh and doesn’t leak at all. The remainder of the day was spent curled up on Jordan’s bed watching episodes from our new found obsession, How I Met Your Mother.
Saturday night Rachel, Jordan, Ashley and I went with Philipo to a random, private club in the middle of nowhere. We stopped at a twelve foot gate which was open by a guard. We got out of the car and walked down a kerosene lantern lighted path to a covered outside balcony. The whole place was poorly lit with eerie, fluorescent green bulbs which were hazed over from the cigar smoke of greasy, unshaven European men who made you shiver when they glared at you. Their hard eyes all followed us as we sat down at a nearby table and ordered sodas. I felt like I had committed some sort of crime just being there. Philipo explained to us that The Watering Hole is owned by a German-American who started a hunting business here in Tanzania. Tourists from all over come here to this club/lodge to relax before going on a safari to fulfill their urge to express their masculinity by killing the exotic animals of the Serengeti purely for sport. A tag for a lion alone is $30,000.
I couldn’t handle staying there much longer so we went to La Liga to dance away our troubles. Jordan sadly had to go home before we even made it there because she still wasn’t feeling well. I fell lost without my dancing partner and vowed that night to never go out without her again.
The next morning was Sumaia’s birthday. She had a couple of friends over and we celebrated with dry cake and Colgate flavored ice cream. She was all dressed up in an orange and white dress that she couldn’t stop twirling in and a smile that couldn’t be wiped from her face. In the middle of bringing the lit cake to her and singing the “Happy Birthday Song” she blew out all five candles. We all stopped mid-song not knowing if we should finish or just start cutting the cake. After we stopped laughing we decided to relight them and try again.
Zawaidi left us this weekend to go to her new home in Marangu with Craig. We just couldn’t handle her and he could provide a much better home for her. We’ll get to see her next weekend though when we head up for a camping trip in Mishiri. I don’t think I’m going to miss her.
Last night, we got another volunteer from Boston. Ashley was thrown into our room where she was faced with the three of us, all of who haven’t showered the entire weekend or left the room for that matter, huddled around a bag of Raisin Brand that I had just discovered in the fridge from a previous volunteer. We all paused, mid stuffing the next handful into our mouths to give an awkward smile and slip out the word “Hi” without spitting out any of the cereal that was crammed in our mouth. I’m not sure what she thinks of us but I know what I would think if I was her.
Monday morning Jordan and I headed up to KCMC to sit in on a class at the University. We jumped on the first daladala that we saw, which just so happened to be fifteen people past it’s maximum capacity. We were forced to feel our way through a mess of hips, legs, heads, arms and hands to find a pole inside to hold onto while the rest of our body hung outside the small van. Shutting the door wasn’t even an option seeing as there were two other people besides us hanging out with us. We received a handful of cheers from people on the street as well as others shouting at the driver for making us hang on instead of sitting inside. We were somewhat skeptical about the likelihood that we would be able to sit-in on a class but even after thorough persuasion from Junior and Nathan that there would actually be a class today, we arrived only to be informed that the teacher was in fact not showing up until Thursday.
So, instead we found a table under a tree and decided to attempt to learn Swahili. After about an hour, they claimed we were horrible students while we stick to the story that they are horrible teachers and we decided to just eat lunch instead.
KCMC is about fifteen minutes away from Upendo Orphanage, where the rest of the volunteers in our house work. Since there was nothing more to do, Nate, Junior, Jordan and I thought we would spend the remainder of the day there. Thanks to our wonderful guides, we somehow made the fifteen minute journey into an hour journey at the hottest part of the day. When we made it there, we met up with Ami and Francisca who were playing with the kids outside. Despite how cute they might be, I discovered that the getting peed on, boogers wiped on, dirt thrown in the face, hair pulled and endless crying was not the right match for me.
I was happy to be back at the hospital the next day with the blood and puss. Nothing huge happened throughout the week. Lots of stitches, babies, abscesses, broken bones and dressings. One man who has elephantitis of the scrotum finally was operated on. When he came in a few months ago, his….boys, were honestly the size of two small watermelons. He couldn’t fit into any pants and he would walk around holding one in each hand. After his operation, they were reduced to the size of two large mangos. I was the lucky one chosen to dress him with another nurse. It was a long process seeing as he had drainage tubes, catheter changes, stitches the entire length of his stomach and then the actual scrotum area itself. The doctor said he was progressing well but the next morning when we came to work, Kische, another head doctor, said he had died in the night and wasn’t sure why.
That night, Jordan and I headed back up to KCMC to watch a football (soccer) game with the medical students. Little did we know that the game didn’t start until around 10pm and got over around midnight. Before half time even rolled around we were already struggling to keep our necks from going limp and our burning eyes even half way open. I’m not even sure if our team won or not.
Poor Jordan has been sick for almost a week now. She will be fine one day and then horrible the next. Friday was a bad day for her and I was also feeling pretty awful. We spent the day fixing our clogged sink with a coat hanger, Listerine, a toothbrush, an injection needle, a bucket, a rag, a flashlight and duct tape. Our sink now drains perfectly, smells minty fresh and doesn’t leak at all. The remainder of the day was spent curled up on Jordan’s bed watching episodes from our new found obsession, How I Met Your Mother.
Saturday night Rachel, Jordan, Ashley and I went with Philipo to a random, private club in the middle of nowhere. We stopped at a twelve foot gate which was open by a guard. We got out of the car and walked down a kerosene lantern lighted path to a covered outside balcony. The whole place was poorly lit with eerie, fluorescent green bulbs which were hazed over from the cigar smoke of greasy, unshaven European men who made you shiver when they glared at you. Their hard eyes all followed us as we sat down at a nearby table and ordered sodas. I felt like I had committed some sort of crime just being there. Philipo explained to us that The Watering Hole is owned by a German-American who started a hunting business here in Tanzania. Tourists from all over come here to this club/lodge to relax before going on a safari to fulfill their urge to express their masculinity by killing the exotic animals of the Serengeti purely for sport. A tag for a lion alone is $30,000.
I couldn’t handle staying there much longer so we went to La Liga to dance away our troubles. Jordan sadly had to go home before we even made it there because she still wasn’t feeling well. I fell lost without my dancing partner and vowed that night to never go out without her again.
The next morning was Sumaia’s birthday. She had a couple of friends over and we celebrated with dry cake and Colgate flavored ice cream. She was all dressed up in an orange and white dress that she couldn’t stop twirling in and a smile that couldn’t be wiped from her face. In the middle of bringing the lit cake to her and singing the “Happy Birthday Song” she blew out all five candles. We all stopped mid-song not knowing if we should finish or just start cutting the cake. After we stopped laughing we decided to relight them and try again.
Zawaidi left us this weekend to go to her new home in Marangu with Craig. We just couldn’t handle her and he could provide a much better home for her. We’ll get to see her next weekend though when we head up for a camping trip in Mishiri. I don’t think I’m going to miss her.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Wooden Spoons and Presents
While we were gone, the Kilimanjaro Marathon took place here in Moshi. People from all over, including Kenya, Uganda etc… come to run it. Rachel ran the 5 k while our other friends Junior and Nathan ran the half marathon. I’m bummed I missed it and heard it was amazing.
Jasen was gone when we got back, but we got a new addition to our family. Zawaidi (meaning gift/present). Our neighbor’s dog had puppies so Rachel and I went to town and found flea shampoo along with a flea collar then we washed her and brought her home. She is this Chihuahua/rat dog looking thing with Rotteweiler coloring. She takes turns sleeping curled up next to us. She was cute the first week, but then after she chewed through two of my earphones, pooped in Jordan’s shoe along with everywhere else, peed on my shirt, and refuses to learn, I am at the point where I may just drop-kick her the next time I have to clean up after her. She leaves us more “gifts” then she is herself. After we all leave, she will be living with Craig, who absolutely adores her and all her evil.
The week was somewhat slower, which was nice for a change. It was Anna’s (the Austrian girl from the hospital) last week so we made sure to spend a lot of time with her. Rachel and I toured pediatrics and followed Philipo on rounds. It was very slow pace and it seems all the kids either had malaria or pneumonia or both.
After work on Tuesday we walked to Memorial, which is a huge, outside, second hand market with basically all the clothes that America didn’t want and we dumped in Africa. Some of the tags still say Goodwill and Value Village on them.
Fatuma, left for Arusha early that week to visit her mom who was sick. Her cousin, Frida, came to take her place. She is the cutest and sweetest African I think I have ever met. I got a call later that week while I was in the middle of stitching someone up that Fatuma’s mom had died that day. I didn’t even know what to say. How can you comfort someone who has just experienced that kind of loss and you have no way of relating to.
Besides Zawaidi’s constant accidents, and trying to situate our bug nets, our biggest struggle was Jordan’s bed. One night when we sat on it, the corner gave in and snapped. We looked under it and discovered it was being held together with a huge wooden spoon. We tried to jimmy-rig it every night to keep her from falling, but she eventually had to move to the top bunk.
This weekend was another slow one. We took Anna out as a final goodbye, lounged out at the coffee shop for a few hours, bought fabric to make dresses for only $4, and then cooled off in the pool at the YMCA. When we started to do actual swim strokes, all the Africans got so excited and were shouted, “Look! They’re swimming.” They then proceeded to attempt to imitate us. I guess some stereotypes are true.
Sunday, Jordan and I said goodbye to Rachel as she started her six day mountain climb up Kilimanjaro. We spent the day doing laundry, putting wraps in our hair, reading, tearing down the broken bunk bed and setting up the new bunk bed. That was an adventure and what should have taken about 20 minutes ended up taking more than two and a half hours. The bolts didn’t match up with half the holes because there were three new bunk beds and it was a gamble if we got the right pieces or not. In addition, the only tool we had was a pair of pliers. Even after three missing bolts and some shady tightening, the bed is sturdier than mine, so it should work…at least for now.
Three more volunteers showed up on Sunday and Monday as well. A 20 year old named Kali, from California, and then a couple Naiomi and Ami from New York or Canada or something. Kali and Naiomi went to the hospital with me and Ami with Jordan to the orphanage. I didn’t see much of either of them as Naiomi is a pediatrician and Kali is a nurse’s assistant.
I was left alone for the most part in minor theatre this week. The doctors would come in and ask if I was okay, and I would reply yes but I’m all alone. They would just smile and say okay well I’m around if you need me, and then leave before I could answer. We had more thieves come in with handfuls of lacerations, one of them had his ear cut in half. We also had three amputations and two c sections.
Friday we went to a reggae concert with a huge group. The band was actually the same one we had met in Arusha a few weeks back and that work with an orphanage there teaching kids how to play instruments. The next day was Kali’s last day and we went to town where an unexpected flash flood had us all dancing in the rain while the locals looked at us like we were on crack.
I have literally spent the entire day today reading, writing blogs, eating and occasionally peeing. It’s been awesome. Hopefully we’ll have internet tomorrow and I can finally post them all.
Jasen was gone when we got back, but we got a new addition to our family. Zawaidi (meaning gift/present). Our neighbor’s dog had puppies so Rachel and I went to town and found flea shampoo along with a flea collar then we washed her and brought her home. She is this Chihuahua/rat dog looking thing with Rotteweiler coloring. She takes turns sleeping curled up next to us. She was cute the first week, but then after she chewed through two of my earphones, pooped in Jordan’s shoe along with everywhere else, peed on my shirt, and refuses to learn, I am at the point where I may just drop-kick her the next time I have to clean up after her. She leaves us more “gifts” then she is herself. After we all leave, she will be living with Craig, who absolutely adores her and all her evil.
The week was somewhat slower, which was nice for a change. It was Anna’s (the Austrian girl from the hospital) last week so we made sure to spend a lot of time with her. Rachel and I toured pediatrics and followed Philipo on rounds. It was very slow pace and it seems all the kids either had malaria or pneumonia or both.
After work on Tuesday we walked to Memorial, which is a huge, outside, second hand market with basically all the clothes that America didn’t want and we dumped in Africa. Some of the tags still say Goodwill and Value Village on them.
Fatuma, left for Arusha early that week to visit her mom who was sick. Her cousin, Frida, came to take her place. She is the cutest and sweetest African I think I have ever met. I got a call later that week while I was in the middle of stitching someone up that Fatuma’s mom had died that day. I didn’t even know what to say. How can you comfort someone who has just experienced that kind of loss and you have no way of relating to.
Besides Zawaidi’s constant accidents, and trying to situate our bug nets, our biggest struggle was Jordan’s bed. One night when we sat on it, the corner gave in and snapped. We looked under it and discovered it was being held together with a huge wooden spoon. We tried to jimmy-rig it every night to keep her from falling, but she eventually had to move to the top bunk.
This weekend was another slow one. We took Anna out as a final goodbye, lounged out at the coffee shop for a few hours, bought fabric to make dresses for only $4, and then cooled off in the pool at the YMCA. When we started to do actual swim strokes, all the Africans got so excited and were shouted, “Look! They’re swimming.” They then proceeded to attempt to imitate us. I guess some stereotypes are true.
Sunday, Jordan and I said goodbye to Rachel as she started her six day mountain climb up Kilimanjaro. We spent the day doing laundry, putting wraps in our hair, reading, tearing down the broken bunk bed and setting up the new bunk bed. That was an adventure and what should have taken about 20 minutes ended up taking more than two and a half hours. The bolts didn’t match up with half the holes because there were three new bunk beds and it was a gamble if we got the right pieces or not. In addition, the only tool we had was a pair of pliers. Even after three missing bolts and some shady tightening, the bed is sturdier than mine, so it should work…at least for now.
Three more volunteers showed up on Sunday and Monday as well. A 20 year old named Kali, from California, and then a couple Naiomi and Ami from New York or Canada or something. Kali and Naiomi went to the hospital with me and Ami with Jordan to the orphanage. I didn’t see much of either of them as Naiomi is a pediatrician and Kali is a nurse’s assistant.
I was left alone for the most part in minor theatre this week. The doctors would come in and ask if I was okay, and I would reply yes but I’m all alone. They would just smile and say okay well I’m around if you need me, and then leave before I could answer. We had more thieves come in with handfuls of lacerations, one of them had his ear cut in half. We also had three amputations and two c sections.
Friday we went to a reggae concert with a huge group. The band was actually the same one we had met in Arusha a few weeks back and that work with an orphanage there teaching kids how to play instruments. The next day was Kali’s last day and we went to town where an unexpected flash flood had us all dancing in the rain while the locals looked at us like we were on crack.
I have literally spent the entire day today reading, writing blogs, eating and occasionally peeing. It’s been awesome. Hopefully we’ll have internet tomorrow and I can finally post them all.
SIMBA!
I am doing my best not to freak out at the idea of Jasen leaving this week. Both him and Sophie have been that constant since I’ve been here and have not only helped me settle in but have been true friends to me. Now that Sophie is gone, it’s just us two from the original group. He is like my big brother away from my big brother and I am not sure what I am going to do without him there especially at the hospital. He is the one who has taught me everything to the point where the nurses come and find me to perform a procedure they don’t feel comfortable doing.
My week was shortened to only three days, because Jordan, Kristina and I left Thursday morning for a safari. Monday was busy as normal, with everyone who decides not to come in during the weekend, plus inpatients, plus new patients all showing up in need of care. That night, Rachel and I decided we should get our noses pierced. She had bought two rings in Arusha and we brought home two suture needles from the hospital so we were good to go. Jordan was in charge of taping the procedure, Fatuma was in charge of holding the light, Jasen was the piercer, and Junior was in charge of being freaked out. He began by putting on gloves and swiping down our noses with alcohol pads. Before I even really made a connection that he was ready to pierce me, the needle was already through and he was holding the hole open with the attached string.
For the proceeding six minutes, he struggled trying to get the bent ring through. All the while, Jordan sat in front of me lying saying it was almost through and there was no blood. Poor Rachel had to watch the whole thing. After though she still made the decision to get hers done as well. Luckily hers only took about a third of the time.
Nothing major happened Tuesday or Wednesday until Wednesday just before we were about to leave. A man came in with a broken femur and several cut wounds from a pikipiki accident. As we began cutting his clothes off we found that he was wearing, a down jacket, then a long sleeved shirt, then a short sleeve shirt followed by a jersey. Each a little more drenched in sweat than the last. After I cut through his jeans, he had on sweats and then shorts. In order to continue the pattern, he was also wearing two pairs of socks underneath his hiking boots. Since our x-ray machine is broken we had to just suture what we could, splint his legs together and refer him to KCMC (the major hospital here).
That night we went out to dinner at Deli Chez for Jasen’s goodbye dinner and then a few of us went to watch a soccer game which didn’t get done until 3am. When we got home we were faced with the infamous gate, and once again were locked out having to climb over the wall onto the guard tower and back down the other side.
Jordan and I were up at 5 am to pack for our four day safari. Of course, the electricity was out and we were forced to pack in the dark, holding flashlights in our mouths. We were so proud of ourselves for being on time and ready to leave by 6...but then our taxi driver never showed up. We had to call another one and walk part of the way into town before we actually caught one. Thankfully our group was understanding and didn’t leave without us.
After four hours of driving, or four hours of sleeping for me, we pulled into Twiga Campground at our first stop by Lake Manyara (which comes from a Masai word that is a specific name of a tree) in a town called Mto kwa Mbu (Mosquito River). We ate boxed lunches while the guides started to set up camp. It was a lot different than I had pictured it. The main road was a stones throw away from our tent and white girls in bikinis splashed in a pool while more white people played Frisbee in shorts. Jordan, Kristina and I decided to go on a biking safari. A guide took us through the outskirts of town, through a jungle-like trail where there were monkeys and birds everywhere. We came out in the savannah where we rode to a herd of wildebeests.
It was at this time that Jordan realized she had popped her tire by riding over a two inch thorn. The guide said he called someone to meet us with another bike but we should all continue on via foot until they came. We ended up walking for another hour in the middle of the savannah, supposedly in the direction of the lake. The guide finally stopped and said that because the rainy season is so late this year, the lake had receded and was still another 2 hours walk away.
Since we were suppose to be back in thirty minutes for the game drive that night. The guide gave Jordan his bike and took ours, telling us to go ahead and he would walk. We hadn’t even gotten half way when she realized that she had run over another thorn. We did an awkward jog back to the camp as fast as we could while pushing our bikes. We got back dehydrated, sweaty and as red as a baboon’s butt. They hurriedly threw us in the safari car and we were off.
Lake Manyara was beautiful and we got to see almost every animal the first day. David, our safari guide, who has been doing safaris for six years said he only saw the lions in the trees two other times. Besides that we saw elephants (which were close enough to touch), giraffes, hippos, dikdiks, flamingos, all kinds of birds, zebras, warthogs, wildebeests, all kinds of monkeys and baboons, ostriches, impalas, other weird deer things, jackals, and more. We went to bed shortly after the sun did and the next morning were early to rise after it.
We passed through Ngorongoro on the way to Serengeti. The mountains were full of animals everywhere. The Masai were herding their cattle right next to giraffes. We made it to our campsite around 4, quickly set up our tents (Jordan and I were the first to set up and had to show the others how it’s done…no big deal) and then waited around for the tire on our car to be changed. While we waited, Jordan and I hiked up a nearby hill/pile of rocks. The whole time apparently the Africans were yelling at us to get down because a pride of lions lived there as well as poisonous snakes, but we didn’t hear them until we were at the top. I fairly certain that if we were to actually encounter a lion, Jordan would try to pet him. At least it would have distracted him while I ran.
When David returned with the car, we headed out for the game drive. We were lucky again and got to see a leopard fairly close as well as three cheetahs that ran right across the road then sat and watched the sunset right in front of us. We were also the only car there which was awesome.
That night I heard twigs snapping outside of our tent, followed by something hitting the side. Our screens were open, and I opened my eyes enough to see a giraffe walk past our tent. I wasn’t awake enough to connect that there was actually a real elephant there and returned to bed just thinking it was a dream or I was imagining him.
In the morning, which was actually still night because we were up an hour before the sun, the rest of our group confirmed that there was a giraffe as well as jackals. We climbed into the safari car half asleep, and drove out to the savannah. We were by a heard of elephants with their babies when the sun rose. Shortly after, a mama elephant and her baby charged us.
Serengeti translates as “never ending”, which fits it well because it just kept going and going. We saw 4 of the 5, Big Five (black rhino, lion, elephant, buffalo, leopard). Our last day in Serengeti we saw 2 prides of lions, which was a relief seeing as Jordan was set on seeing lions. Every time she would fall asleep and we would wake her for something she would jolt up, frantically look around and question, “Simba?!” And each time we would reply, “No, Jordan, bathroom break”.
The end of the third day we arrived at our campsite in Ngorongoro. We almost the first ones there and set up camp with the best view. Our site was at the top edge of the crater with the most spectacular view. While we were setting up, an elephant walked right into our camp, through the safari cars parked and over by the kitchen to wear the water supply was, and just started drinking out of the supply. Everyone was running around trying to get pictures with him. He finally had had enough and just as I was walking by to get something out of the safari car, he started flapping his ears and began to charge. Pari, a girl in our group calmly shouted, “Bree, you might want to run”. I turned around right as he outstretched his trunk and nicked me in the butt. I quickly darted behind the cook house and avoided being trampled. A few Masai warriors were standing by observing, probably thinking, “Those stupid wazungu.”
Jordan and I helped cook dinner in the big cook house with all the African guides. They were so excited we were in there helping and weren’t shy at laughing at us anytime they said something we didn’t understand or were slow at cutting up vegetables. After dinner we offered to help our cook wash dishes, and somehow got suckered into doing the entire camp’s dishes. Every time we returned with a new stack of pots and pans, we were greeted with all the cooks cheering and whistling right before they handed us another dirty stack.
The next morning, Jordan and I had learned from the previous morning and brought along our sleeping bags as well as just stayed in our pajamas. As we began our descent into The Crater (Ngorongoro) the sun was just starting to rise. We watched it while zebras, wildebeests, ostriches, hyenas, flamingos and elephants all ran around us. The view was breathtaking. Our last day was relaxing and we didn’t see anything new besides rhinos, which completed the Big 5. It was amazing though to see all the animals together in one place.
Everyone slept the whole way home. It took about 40 minutes to wash all the dirt off my body, since I decided not to shower the whole time after witnessing the suffering Jordan went through when she took one. It’s good to be home though.
My week was shortened to only three days, because Jordan, Kristina and I left Thursday morning for a safari. Monday was busy as normal, with everyone who decides not to come in during the weekend, plus inpatients, plus new patients all showing up in need of care. That night, Rachel and I decided we should get our noses pierced. She had bought two rings in Arusha and we brought home two suture needles from the hospital so we were good to go. Jordan was in charge of taping the procedure, Fatuma was in charge of holding the light, Jasen was the piercer, and Junior was in charge of being freaked out. He began by putting on gloves and swiping down our noses with alcohol pads. Before I even really made a connection that he was ready to pierce me, the needle was already through and he was holding the hole open with the attached string.
For the proceeding six minutes, he struggled trying to get the bent ring through. All the while, Jordan sat in front of me lying saying it was almost through and there was no blood. Poor Rachel had to watch the whole thing. After though she still made the decision to get hers done as well. Luckily hers only took about a third of the time.
Nothing major happened Tuesday or Wednesday until Wednesday just before we were about to leave. A man came in with a broken femur and several cut wounds from a pikipiki accident. As we began cutting his clothes off we found that he was wearing, a down jacket, then a long sleeved shirt, then a short sleeve shirt followed by a jersey. Each a little more drenched in sweat than the last. After I cut through his jeans, he had on sweats and then shorts. In order to continue the pattern, he was also wearing two pairs of socks underneath his hiking boots. Since our x-ray machine is broken we had to just suture what we could, splint his legs together and refer him to KCMC (the major hospital here).
That night we went out to dinner at Deli Chez for Jasen’s goodbye dinner and then a few of us went to watch a soccer game which didn’t get done until 3am. When we got home we were faced with the infamous gate, and once again were locked out having to climb over the wall onto the guard tower and back down the other side.
Jordan and I were up at 5 am to pack for our four day safari. Of course, the electricity was out and we were forced to pack in the dark, holding flashlights in our mouths. We were so proud of ourselves for being on time and ready to leave by 6...but then our taxi driver never showed up. We had to call another one and walk part of the way into town before we actually caught one. Thankfully our group was understanding and didn’t leave without us.
After four hours of driving, or four hours of sleeping for me, we pulled into Twiga Campground at our first stop by Lake Manyara (which comes from a Masai word that is a specific name of a tree) in a town called Mto kwa Mbu (Mosquito River). We ate boxed lunches while the guides started to set up camp. It was a lot different than I had pictured it. The main road was a stones throw away from our tent and white girls in bikinis splashed in a pool while more white people played Frisbee in shorts. Jordan, Kristina and I decided to go on a biking safari. A guide took us through the outskirts of town, through a jungle-like trail where there were monkeys and birds everywhere. We came out in the savannah where we rode to a herd of wildebeests.
It was at this time that Jordan realized she had popped her tire by riding over a two inch thorn. The guide said he called someone to meet us with another bike but we should all continue on via foot until they came. We ended up walking for another hour in the middle of the savannah, supposedly in the direction of the lake. The guide finally stopped and said that because the rainy season is so late this year, the lake had receded and was still another 2 hours walk away.
Since we were suppose to be back in thirty minutes for the game drive that night. The guide gave Jordan his bike and took ours, telling us to go ahead and he would walk. We hadn’t even gotten half way when she realized that she had run over another thorn. We did an awkward jog back to the camp as fast as we could while pushing our bikes. We got back dehydrated, sweaty and as red as a baboon’s butt. They hurriedly threw us in the safari car and we were off.
Lake Manyara was beautiful and we got to see almost every animal the first day. David, our safari guide, who has been doing safaris for six years said he only saw the lions in the trees two other times. Besides that we saw elephants (which were close enough to touch), giraffes, hippos, dikdiks, flamingos, all kinds of birds, zebras, warthogs, wildebeests, all kinds of monkeys and baboons, ostriches, impalas, other weird deer things, jackals, and more. We went to bed shortly after the sun did and the next morning were early to rise after it.
We passed through Ngorongoro on the way to Serengeti. The mountains were full of animals everywhere. The Masai were herding their cattle right next to giraffes. We made it to our campsite around 4, quickly set up our tents (Jordan and I were the first to set up and had to show the others how it’s done…no big deal) and then waited around for the tire on our car to be changed. While we waited, Jordan and I hiked up a nearby hill/pile of rocks. The whole time apparently the Africans were yelling at us to get down because a pride of lions lived there as well as poisonous snakes, but we didn’t hear them until we were at the top. I fairly certain that if we were to actually encounter a lion, Jordan would try to pet him. At least it would have distracted him while I ran.
When David returned with the car, we headed out for the game drive. We were lucky again and got to see a leopard fairly close as well as three cheetahs that ran right across the road then sat and watched the sunset right in front of us. We were also the only car there which was awesome.
That night I heard twigs snapping outside of our tent, followed by something hitting the side. Our screens were open, and I opened my eyes enough to see a giraffe walk past our tent. I wasn’t awake enough to connect that there was actually a real elephant there and returned to bed just thinking it was a dream or I was imagining him.
In the morning, which was actually still night because we were up an hour before the sun, the rest of our group confirmed that there was a giraffe as well as jackals. We climbed into the safari car half asleep, and drove out to the savannah. We were by a heard of elephants with their babies when the sun rose. Shortly after, a mama elephant and her baby charged us.
Serengeti translates as “never ending”, which fits it well because it just kept going and going. We saw 4 of the 5, Big Five (black rhino, lion, elephant, buffalo, leopard). Our last day in Serengeti we saw 2 prides of lions, which was a relief seeing as Jordan was set on seeing lions. Every time she would fall asleep and we would wake her for something she would jolt up, frantically look around and question, “Simba?!” And each time we would reply, “No, Jordan, bathroom break”.
The end of the third day we arrived at our campsite in Ngorongoro. We almost the first ones there and set up camp with the best view. Our site was at the top edge of the crater with the most spectacular view. While we were setting up, an elephant walked right into our camp, through the safari cars parked and over by the kitchen to wear the water supply was, and just started drinking out of the supply. Everyone was running around trying to get pictures with him. He finally had had enough and just as I was walking by to get something out of the safari car, he started flapping his ears and began to charge. Pari, a girl in our group calmly shouted, “Bree, you might want to run”. I turned around right as he outstretched his trunk and nicked me in the butt. I quickly darted behind the cook house and avoided being trampled. A few Masai warriors were standing by observing, probably thinking, “Those stupid wazungu.”
Jordan and I helped cook dinner in the big cook house with all the African guides. They were so excited we were in there helping and weren’t shy at laughing at us anytime they said something we didn’t understand or were slow at cutting up vegetables. After dinner we offered to help our cook wash dishes, and somehow got suckered into doing the entire camp’s dishes. Every time we returned with a new stack of pots and pans, we were greeted with all the cooks cheering and whistling right before they handed us another dirty stack.
The next morning, Jordan and I had learned from the previous morning and brought along our sleeping bags as well as just stayed in our pajamas. As we began our descent into The Crater (Ngorongoro) the sun was just starting to rise. We watched it while zebras, wildebeests, ostriches, hyenas, flamingos and elephants all ran around us. The view was breathtaking. Our last day was relaxing and we didn’t see anything new besides rhinos, which completed the Big 5. It was amazing though to see all the animals together in one place.
Everyone slept the whole way home. It took about 40 minutes to wash all the dirt off my body, since I decided not to shower the whole time after witnessing the suffering Jordan went through when she took one. It’s good to be home though.
Machetes, Babies, Parties and Graduations
I can’t believe how fast the last two weeks flew by. I feel like I didn’t even have time to breathe and I haven’t done laundry in almost a month now which is only adding to the unidentifiable smells here. The hospital was extremely busy. We broke our record for the trauma room with 52 patients on Monday. More pikipiki (motorcycle) and panga (machete) accidents. We started off the day with a victim who was accused of being a thief. Here, if someone calls someone a thief, anyone and everyone on the street will beat him up, put a few tires around him and set him on fire usually before the police can get there. This one was lucky and the police intervened. We put in over 100 stitches in him and used a whole bottle of providone just cleaning his road rashes. The doctors came in and questioned us for tending to him. They said we should wait a few hours to make him suffer and then they took away the anesthesia because they said it would be a waste to use it on him.
Other injuries were dog attacks, one lady had her heel completely off and we had to sew that back on, another guy had his nose hanging off, another had a tree fall on him. It was intense and I am basically pro at stitching and casting now. Philipo, a doctor, asked me one of the days if I wanted to watch a cesarean and as I was walking into major theater, he handed me all the sterile uniforms, aprons, masks etc… and said, “Hurry it’s an emergency. Have you ever done this before?”
I just looked at him with a blank expression and said, “Hmm?”
Then he simply replied, “Don’t worry you’ll be fine, you’re assisting”.
After a mass amount of bleeding, cutting, pulling, and ripping he looked at me and said, “Okay pull it out.”
“Pull what out?” I asked confused, thinking he couldn’t possibly mean the baby. But he did.
“The baby what else?”
“I don’t want to kill it or pull it out wrong,” I was hesitant and not willing to be responsible for a newborn’s death.
“You won’t just grab his shoulder and pull him out,” he assured me.
So I did just that and sure enough, I was holding a little, black, slimy, baby boy. They took him away quickly though because of some complications and the next half hour was spent putting the mother’s stomach back together.
The same week, on Friday, I assisted in a vaginal birth where I caught the baby, cut the cord, tied off the belly button and weighed it. They offered me the stitching job for the 18 year old mother but it looked way too complicated.
The women here have a completely different pain tolerance than white women. They are completely silent when giving birth. The doctors explained it’s a cultural thing. In America, it’s easy finding the maternity ward, all you have to do is listen and then follow the sound of pure agony.
Friday was also Jasen’s birthday. After work, Rachel and I picked up an overpriced, dry cake and ice cream for the party planned that evening. The house was all decorated and we had over 30 people over for dessert before heading out to La Liga. All the doctors, some of the physicians, our coordinators, all the volunteers, our neighbors, random people we’ve met in Arusha, Marangu, Bacoba etc… and friends of friends were all there. We closed the place down and Jasen couldn’t emphasize on how much it meant to him and how much he enjoyed himself as well as everyone else.
The following morning, Kristina, Jordan and I had quite an adventure. Gerald, our Kiswahili teacher, was graduating from secondary school, which is somewhat equivalent to our high school. Before heading out, we asked Fatuma directions to the school and she gave us a vague idea that it was across from the police station. Little did we know, there are two police stations which are about 12 km from each other and separated by a nice hill.
So we set out around 11am, the hottest time of the day thinking we had more than enough time before the graduation started. We passed Rau Secondary School which was set up with chairs and decorations in the football field but thought nothing of it. We continued walking up the hill and then up another hill followed by more walking until we reached the police station we thought was the correct one. We jokingly laughed and said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if it was the first school we saw after all of this.” The school across from it was called Old Moshi Secondary School. We asked around and know one knew of any graduation or English for that matter.
We finally found two students who spoke English and they simply laughed when we told them where we were trying to go. Turns out, it was the first school we had passed, now 50 minutes ago. They led us through a few random fields and back roads to the base of the hill where Rau Secondary School was, which just so happened to be the first school we passed which is about 10 minutes from our house. In order to avoid walking all the way around the barbed wire campus to get to the main entrance, which would take an additional 15 minutes, we decided to part the thorn-filled bushes at the far edge of the field and make our own entrance.
Every attendant, student and teacher watched us as we blindly walked over thinking we finally made it. They all had the same blank stare and replied with simple blinking when I smiled at them. I asked the first teacher we saw if we had the right place this time. She laughed and could barely get out a reply of “No”. She guided us, still laughing, to a student who said he would walk us over to the correct school. By this time, I’ve about lost all faith in Tanzanian directions.
As we walk out to the main road, the word had spread at the graduation that we were a bunch of stupid wazungu who didn’t know where the hell they are in life and literally everyone was laughing. I have no idea why because frankly, I didn’t find it funny and I wanted to sit down and cry.
While we were walking on the main road, Ally, our coordinator, just happened to be driving by and stopped. He asked us where we were going and when we told him he started laughing too and said we would never make it in time to actually see the graduation. He saved us by giving us a ride across town to the correct school. We ended up not missing the actual ceremony but we had missed almost all the performances before. We were able to see the Masai do a traditional dance, a group of girls do a hip-hop routine, an Indian dance routine, traditional drumming and a comedy skit in Kiswahili. Apparently their graduations last from 9 am to about 5 pm and involve a lot more sitting than ours do, which I couldn’t believe was possible.
All in all it was fun and I ended up laughing around the time the weather changed from 103 degrees of sun to absolute downpour. We took the long way home because we got lost and hadn’t had enough walking for one day obviously. The good news is I didn’t have to take a shower that night because of how wet we were from the rain.
Sunday I did nothing. I think my biggest accomplishment was reading a few pages before I took a nap.
Next week isn’t going to be any slower and I am alright with that.
Other injuries were dog attacks, one lady had her heel completely off and we had to sew that back on, another guy had his nose hanging off, another had a tree fall on him. It was intense and I am basically pro at stitching and casting now. Philipo, a doctor, asked me one of the days if I wanted to watch a cesarean and as I was walking into major theater, he handed me all the sterile uniforms, aprons, masks etc… and said, “Hurry it’s an emergency. Have you ever done this before?”
I just looked at him with a blank expression and said, “Hmm?”
Then he simply replied, “Don’t worry you’ll be fine, you’re assisting”.
After a mass amount of bleeding, cutting, pulling, and ripping he looked at me and said, “Okay pull it out.”
“Pull what out?” I asked confused, thinking he couldn’t possibly mean the baby. But he did.
“The baby what else?”
“I don’t want to kill it or pull it out wrong,” I was hesitant and not willing to be responsible for a newborn’s death.
“You won’t just grab his shoulder and pull him out,” he assured me.
So I did just that and sure enough, I was holding a little, black, slimy, baby boy. They took him away quickly though because of some complications and the next half hour was spent putting the mother’s stomach back together.
The same week, on Friday, I assisted in a vaginal birth where I caught the baby, cut the cord, tied off the belly button and weighed it. They offered me the stitching job for the 18 year old mother but it looked way too complicated.
The women here have a completely different pain tolerance than white women. They are completely silent when giving birth. The doctors explained it’s a cultural thing. In America, it’s easy finding the maternity ward, all you have to do is listen and then follow the sound of pure agony.
Friday was also Jasen’s birthday. After work, Rachel and I picked up an overpriced, dry cake and ice cream for the party planned that evening. The house was all decorated and we had over 30 people over for dessert before heading out to La Liga. All the doctors, some of the physicians, our coordinators, all the volunteers, our neighbors, random people we’ve met in Arusha, Marangu, Bacoba etc… and friends of friends were all there. We closed the place down and Jasen couldn’t emphasize on how much it meant to him and how much he enjoyed himself as well as everyone else.
The following morning, Kristina, Jordan and I had quite an adventure. Gerald, our Kiswahili teacher, was graduating from secondary school, which is somewhat equivalent to our high school. Before heading out, we asked Fatuma directions to the school and she gave us a vague idea that it was across from the police station. Little did we know, there are two police stations which are about 12 km from each other and separated by a nice hill.
So we set out around 11am, the hottest time of the day thinking we had more than enough time before the graduation started. We passed Rau Secondary School which was set up with chairs and decorations in the football field but thought nothing of it. We continued walking up the hill and then up another hill followed by more walking until we reached the police station we thought was the correct one. We jokingly laughed and said, “Wouldn’t it be funny if it was the first school we saw after all of this.” The school across from it was called Old Moshi Secondary School. We asked around and know one knew of any graduation or English for that matter.
We finally found two students who spoke English and they simply laughed when we told them where we were trying to go. Turns out, it was the first school we had passed, now 50 minutes ago. They led us through a few random fields and back roads to the base of the hill where Rau Secondary School was, which just so happened to be the first school we passed which is about 10 minutes from our house. In order to avoid walking all the way around the barbed wire campus to get to the main entrance, which would take an additional 15 minutes, we decided to part the thorn-filled bushes at the far edge of the field and make our own entrance.
Every attendant, student and teacher watched us as we blindly walked over thinking we finally made it. They all had the same blank stare and replied with simple blinking when I smiled at them. I asked the first teacher we saw if we had the right place this time. She laughed and could barely get out a reply of “No”. She guided us, still laughing, to a student who said he would walk us over to the correct school. By this time, I’ve about lost all faith in Tanzanian directions.
As we walk out to the main road, the word had spread at the graduation that we were a bunch of stupid wazungu who didn’t know where the hell they are in life and literally everyone was laughing. I have no idea why because frankly, I didn’t find it funny and I wanted to sit down and cry.
While we were walking on the main road, Ally, our coordinator, just happened to be driving by and stopped. He asked us where we were going and when we told him he started laughing too and said we would never make it in time to actually see the graduation. He saved us by giving us a ride across town to the correct school. We ended up not missing the actual ceremony but we had missed almost all the performances before. We were able to see the Masai do a traditional dance, a group of girls do a hip-hop routine, an Indian dance routine, traditional drumming and a comedy skit in Kiswahili. Apparently their graduations last from 9 am to about 5 pm and involve a lot more sitting than ours do, which I couldn’t believe was possible.
All in all it was fun and I ended up laughing around the time the weather changed from 103 degrees of sun to absolute downpour. We took the long way home because we got lost and hadn’t had enough walking for one day obviously. The good news is I didn’t have to take a shower that night because of how wet we were from the rain.
Sunday I did nothing. I think my biggest accomplishment was reading a few pages before I took a nap.
Next week isn’t going to be any slower and I am alright with that.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Alhagi
The first week at the hospital went by just as quickly as the following two. It was just Jasen and me in minor theatre working on whomever came in along with the inpatients. Everyday is a new adventure with new challenges. A kid came in where we had to literally piece his face back together. He had been chopping wood and the axe bounced back and hit him. His face was split from the top of his hairline to his lip. Luckily his orbital membrane had somehow stayed intact even though his eyelid was in two. It’s been two weeks though and he is looking great and able to open his eye.
That weekend Jasen, Sona (a new volunteer from Czech Republic who insisted on walking around in our room butt naked) , Bill and I went to Arusha. Ally, one of our coordinators, met us and took us to the orphanage he established there. In addition to his orphanage, he has a primary school built on 3-4 acres. The school not only caters to the orphans but the local children as well. Most primary schools in Tanzania are taught in Swahili while secondary schools then switch to English. Ally’s school is all taught in English to make the transition into secondary school easier for kids. They are in the process of building a larger orphanage on the same property as the school as well as a clinic which Jasen’s volunteer program founded.
We were greeted by five new volunteers when we got home. Rachel, a U Dub student from Alaska, Jordan, a Montana U student, and a family from New York with a daughter Jamie a Colorado State student. The mom, Lit, reminds me so much of you mom it almost frightening. For Valentine’s Day she even made everyone handmade hearts with our names on it and put them on our doors. She is extremely outgoing, upbeat, enthusiastic and caring. Every one of them with the exception of Rachel went to Upendo Orphanage. Rachel came with Sophie, Jasen and me to St. Joseph’s.
The following week was a little more…overwhelming than the last. Not only did we have Jasen, me, a nurse, and the patient in the 10’x15’ trauma room, but we added Rachel, Anny, a volunteer from Austria, and a different medical student from Kilimanjaro County Medical Center. Jasen gave me the liberty to work on the patients we had seen the previous week while he showed the others the ropes.
Monday, Rachel and I sat in on our first actual operation in the major theatre. It was an abortion and took a total of about 20 minutes, of which the doctor answered a phone call during the procedure. Only in Africa. On Wednesday or so I learned how to suture and put 5 or 6 stitches in someone’s wrist and later was able to do another set by myself, the patient of which asked me to marry him several times. The wedding is this coming Saturday. You can send the gifts here or just wait until I get back.
Last weekend was packed. We got another volunteer from Iran, and seemed to have something going on constantly. Friday night Rachel, Fatuma and I went out to the hottest club in Moshi apparently and got in free because Jasen and I had worked on a white patient who came into the hospital the previous week and he recognized me. We met more travelers from Germany, Scotland, South Africa and Poland. Rachel and I had a lesson on African dancing. She picked it up a lot quicker and I was informed that I wasn’t well equipped for “shaki shaki”.
Sunday Rachel, Sophie and I went to Marangu, which is on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, to see Craig the Rasta as everyone knows him here. There was a concert/talent show thing going on up at the center he worked at. That, like most things here, was an experience. I don’t even know how to explain what happened except lip-syncing, awkward dancing by guys dressed as fat men with fake beards, fire dancing and comedy in Kiswahili. Afterwards we walked down the mountain to catch the daladala home. The walk was absolutely gorgeous with a view that stretched out over the valley. It reminded me a lot of Hawaii with how lush it was.
This upcoming week will be Sophie’s last week. It will be so weird without her seeing as she’s been here since I have and her Jasen and I went everywhere together. We lost internet this week so this post will have to go up with the others next time I have access.
That weekend Jasen, Sona (a new volunteer from Czech Republic who insisted on walking around in our room butt naked) , Bill and I went to Arusha. Ally, one of our coordinators, met us and took us to the orphanage he established there. In addition to his orphanage, he has a primary school built on 3-4 acres. The school not only caters to the orphans but the local children as well. Most primary schools in Tanzania are taught in Swahili while secondary schools then switch to English. Ally’s school is all taught in English to make the transition into secondary school easier for kids. They are in the process of building a larger orphanage on the same property as the school as well as a clinic which Jasen’s volunteer program founded.
We were greeted by five new volunteers when we got home. Rachel, a U Dub student from Alaska, Jordan, a Montana U student, and a family from New York with a daughter Jamie a Colorado State student. The mom, Lit, reminds me so much of you mom it almost frightening. For Valentine’s Day she even made everyone handmade hearts with our names on it and put them on our doors. She is extremely outgoing, upbeat, enthusiastic and caring. Every one of them with the exception of Rachel went to Upendo Orphanage. Rachel came with Sophie, Jasen and me to St. Joseph’s.
The following week was a little more…overwhelming than the last. Not only did we have Jasen, me, a nurse, and the patient in the 10’x15’ trauma room, but we added Rachel, Anny, a volunteer from Austria, and a different medical student from Kilimanjaro County Medical Center. Jasen gave me the liberty to work on the patients we had seen the previous week while he showed the others the ropes.
Monday, Rachel and I sat in on our first actual operation in the major theatre. It was an abortion and took a total of about 20 minutes, of which the doctor answered a phone call during the procedure. Only in Africa. On Wednesday or so I learned how to suture and put 5 or 6 stitches in someone’s wrist and later was able to do another set by myself, the patient of which asked me to marry him several times. The wedding is this coming Saturday. You can send the gifts here or just wait until I get back.
Last weekend was packed. We got another volunteer from Iran, and seemed to have something going on constantly. Friday night Rachel, Fatuma and I went out to the hottest club in Moshi apparently and got in free because Jasen and I had worked on a white patient who came into the hospital the previous week and he recognized me. We met more travelers from Germany, Scotland, South Africa and Poland. Rachel and I had a lesson on African dancing. She picked it up a lot quicker and I was informed that I wasn’t well equipped for “shaki shaki”.
Sunday Rachel, Sophie and I went to Marangu, which is on the slopes of Kilimanjaro, to see Craig the Rasta as everyone knows him here. There was a concert/talent show thing going on up at the center he worked at. That, like most things here, was an experience. I don’t even know how to explain what happened except lip-syncing, awkward dancing by guys dressed as fat men with fake beards, fire dancing and comedy in Kiswahili. Afterwards we walked down the mountain to catch the daladala home. The walk was absolutely gorgeous with a view that stretched out over the valley. It reminded me a lot of Hawaii with how lush it was.
This upcoming week will be Sophie’s last week. It will be so weird without her seeing as she’s been here since I have and her Jasen and I went everywhere together. We lost internet this week so this post will have to go up with the others next time I have access.
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