I’m over 5 weeks into my stay here. And once again, I’m slacking
on this blog. Since my last post, Swahili and engineering classes at TCDC have
ended. Our group has split up and moved to new homes to begin individual work
at our hospitals. I am staying in a home with eight girls from EWH, on the
outskirts of Arusha. Saying goodbye to our friends was difficult, but we
made plans to hang out on the weekends, always the highlight of my
week. Leaving Mama Gaude’s house and the comfort of TCDC brought about an unnerving
uncertainty; I was just starting to feel at home there and didn’t want to
leave. After saying our goodbyes, we boarded the bus and stared silently out
the windows, unsure of what to expect the second month. I began to feel my
first pangs of homesickness.
 |
| Family Portrait: Rafia, Christine, Mama Gaude, and I |
 |
| Our Kiswahili Mwalimu, Baba Kisanjii : "BOMBA BOMBA!" |
 |
| Saying goodbye at TCDC: Lauren, Ray, our fearless leader Miguel Angel, Rishab, and Aman |
On the first day we arrived at our new home, it was Mama Macarine's 50th birthday. We had a large party (she's a popular lady), complete with dancing and huge feast. While unpacking, I heard an awful screech coming from right outside my bedroom window, so loud that I jumped in fear. I looked outside the window and watched as two men slaughtered a goat. So much blood. It was one of those things that was just so disgusting it made my stomach churn, but I couldn't seem to look away. We were served goat kabobs at the party later that night.
We began work at our assigned hospitals last week. My
partners, Charlotte and Inka, and I were assigned two hospitals, both in the
bustling city of Arusha: St. Elizabeth and Ithna Asheri. Both are comparatively
“nice” hospitals, but still vastly below standards in the developed world. Let’s
just say, I would never ever want to be treated at a Tanzanian hospital, except
for something very minor. Seeing the operating room was plenty of motivation to
not engage in risky activities here.
At St. Elizabeth, we work with a fundi (“technician”) named Jonas, a pleasant man who only speaks
Swahili. Communicating with him is challenging, we do a lot of pointing and
hand motioning and making up Swahili words. Jonas is very knowledgeable and
resourceful, and we greatly appreciate his help. He has a workshop made out of
a large shipping crate, with doors and windows cut out of it. It is filled with
a shagalabagala (“mess”) of
electronic parts and broken medical equipment, but he keeps his desk area very
tidy, a great workspace for us. This reminds me of my dad, who in his workshop
has mastered the art of the organized mess. A place for everything and
everything in its place.
Ithna Asheri does not have a technician, so our help seems
to be more appreciated and needed there. There is no workshop, so the head
doctor gave us the TB office to work in…. sketchy? The office is free during
the day because the hospital only sees TB patients at night, in order to
provide some kind of quarantine against the other patients, particularly those
with HIV. I just try not to think about it. Good thing we all have vaccinations.
Now for a quick rant: sanitation at both hospitals is practically
non-existent. You would think it would be fairly easy to find soap in a
hospital, right? Wrong. In the staff bathroom, no soap. In the examination rooms,
no soap. In the operating rooms, a tiny, very questionable bar of soap. Call me
a germaphobe, but it should not be this difficult to find soap in a hospital.
And don’t even get me started on toilet paper. The operating room is lined with
open windows, and the “sterile zone” consists of a red line on the floor, which
in order to cross you have to change your shoes. Well at least they’re trying…
On Friday we were called to fix an anesthesia machine in the
OR. We were taught in our classes last month to avoid touching anything
unnecessary in the OR, and that it is best to remove equipment from the room before
beginning work. As soon as we walk in, Jonas goes to town, setting all our
dirty tools right on the operating bed. It was a lost cause. A nurse came in
and told us we had to leave momentarily because they needed to see a patient
right away. A very pregnant woman calmly walked in and gave birth on that same
operating table, just moments after we had used it as our tool bench. When she
was done, we got back to work. Hakuna matata.
 |
| Miguel, Inka, me, Charlotte, and Jonas, in the OR with our newly fixed anesthesia machine. Stoked! |
On the bright side, we were able to successfully fix the
anesthesia machine, despite being horribly intimidated by it at first. Miguel (our
Peruvian engineering instructor from last month) rotates around all the
hospitals, so we were fortunate to have him that day. He is incredible in the
field, and always a constant source of humor. We found the problem in the
ventilator, so as we always do when we don’t know the cause, we took it apart.
After poking around and not finding anything suspicious, dejected and disheartened
at our failed attempt, we put the ventilator back together… and it WORKED!! Electronics
are always a mystery.
Despite these frustrations, we had a successful first week.
We fixed two oxygen concentrators, a centrifuge, two anesthesia machines, a
water heater, and a bedside monitor. We are still in the process of fixing the
dental amalgamator, another monitor, a voltage regulator, two medicine vaporizers,
a printer, and installing new lights around the hospital.
 |
| Not happy with this ventilator... |
If you stick to traditional African food places and are
willing to risk possible food poisoning, eating in Tanzania is dirt cheap. The
less English they speak, the cheaper the prices. We discovered this place
across the street from our hospital called Losika Guest House. We eat a full
meal of Pilau rice and meat, complete with tea and chipati, for the equivalent
of about $2. I always leave feeling stuffed. Of course, in the touristy areas
you can find a few Western food places which attract all the Mzungu, but they are much more expensive.
 |
| Treating ourselves at Africafe, a very Mzungu place |
On Thursday night, we went to a popular night club called Via Via. The club is outdoors, under
cabanas. Thursday night is Mzungu night,
so it was completely packed with a mix of about 50/50 local people and white
tourists. Funny how all the white people in Tanzania magically congregate and find
each other at this little club. We ran into a group of Canadian dental students
that we met while climbing Mt. Meru. We danced until the early morning hours,
but had so much fun that feeling exhausted the next day at work was totally
worth it.
On Saturday, we met up with the rest of our group and went
to visit a coffee farm. It was great to see everyone again, and the coffee was
of course delicious. Our host Baba Steven took us through the entire process of
Tanzanian coffee making, starting with picking. After filling several buckets
with fresh coffee beans, we used a hand-cranked machine to pull the shells off.
Next, the beans were crushed using a wooden bowl and a long log. We then took
turns roasting the beans over a fire. After grinding the beans once more, we
brewed coffee and drank it, while watching Juan attempt to climb a tall tree
and pick parachichi (“avocado”).
Great entertainment.
 |
| Picking coffee |
 |
| Trying to find the red ones |
 |
| Artsy Fartsy |
 |
| Baba Steven shows us how it's done |
 |
| Frankie, the most adorable kid I've ever met |
 |
| Frankie took a liking to Aman |
 |
| Removing the shells |
 |
| Raelyn grinds the beans |
 |
| Roasting |
That night we went to a sports bar called empire, drank
cheap sangria, and watched the Olympics.
On Sunday, we visited a nearby lake. The place was deserted,
since everyone was at church. We wanted to paddle out, but the man working
wanted to charge us 45,000 tsh (approx. $30) to rent the crappiest looking
canoe you’ve ever seen. We offered him 20,000 tsh, but he wouldn’t take it. Which
was just silly, it wasn’t like he was going to get any other customers that
day. Instead, we settled for sitting by the lake eating chipsi mayai (basically a French fry omelet). Later, we drank
milkshakes at an amazing cafe called Tanz Hands. Beats rice and beans.
Despite all these incredible experiences and great people I
am surrounded by, I am starting to really miss home. Three more weeks!
No comments:
Post a Comment