You really have no concept of what you have. Whenever you want, you can just walk over and flip a switch, or wash your hands at the sink, or perhaps most important, you can flush the toilet on a whim. Granted, you can always CHOOSE to spend your days in a Coleman tent, relieving yourself in a hole dug out of the ground. But as I said, you have the choice. I didn’t realize quite what I had until today, when two days after I had last showered, I found myself bathing with a cup and a large bucket full of frigid water. I’m just complaining about a lifestyle…a germaphobe lamenting her current situation in a developing nation. But at a hospital, where life can depend on being able to see at night to make a blood transfusion, it’s really not a complaint anymore. I feel good about being here. True, I loathe my living conditions. My feet are constantly caked with dust, sweat and God knows what else, I’m surrounded by a society that does not use toilet paper, and worse yet, culturally I'm expected to constantly shake the hands of those of the society that does not use toilet paper.
But I feel a strange sense of belonging with the people here. Clearly, I’m a misfit in every sense of the word. I’m white (or now, arguably red from the intense sun and red dirt coloring my skin), I wear shoes, I’m certainly not Muslim and I have an understanding and have seen parts of the globe outside my birthplace. But it’s hard not to feel happy even here at a hospital where people die every single day.
Today we took a tour of the hospital. The tour itself literally took all day as the doctors stopped and asked tons of questions at every single unit and ward we entered. I suppose it was interesting for them, but I enjoyed wandering off and looking at the goats.
The hospital itself is huge, as I suspected. It’s 100 times larger than I expected. It really does need help in the worst way. For example, today on our tour I had been consuming large amounts of water and decided I was going to use the bathroom next to where the group was currently bombarding the nurses with questions. I walked into a stall, and without thinking about it, pulled the door shut behind me. When I turned around, however, I realized that there was no handle on this side of the door and that I was locked in! I panicked and began screaming Kathryn’s name at the top of my voice, forgetting that she was standing about 5 feet away from the
bathroom. She quickly scampered in and asked me what was wrong and I informed her of my situation. Luckily, I was saved. But it’s those small things that need to be looked after so people aren’t getting locked in bathrooms.
After our tour ended at about
I spent most of our time there with four boys who were about nine years old. They are 
Alesan, Lamin, Abdu and Modu. I told them we could play football (soccer) tomorrow and so I think that’s why they stayed so close to me. Alesan held my hand the entire time and when my hand would begin to get sweaty, he’d quickly wipe it off with his shirt. My other hand was often fought over and so I had to settle several scuffles with only one hand. The boys offered to teach me Mandinka and taught me how to say donkey and horse. So now I can greet people, ask them their name, and say donkey, horse and my shoe is on fire. We also met the mother of one of the kids whose name is Aminata. I didn’t talk to her much, but apparently she invited us over for lunch tomorrow. THAT will be an adventure…
Today GamSolar began to install the solar panels for the water pump. If all goes according to plan, we will have full time running water this week which is FANTASTIC news!
All in all, it was a very fun, fulfilling and tiring day and I know I’ll sleep well tonight, so long as the donkeys don’t wake me up.
with african love,
jz
No comments:
Post a Comment