Ninaumwa...Nipo Dar Bado

Wow, a whole month has gone by already! This was supposed to be my most eventful, busy and rewarding month. I was going to help interview kids for academic scholarships with Jiamini, an NGO a former PCV created in Newala; I was going to be observed and critiqued by a Peace Corps staff member; I was going to collaborate with the SMILE crew who flew into Newala for a week long trip to fix technical problems and train more teachers to help run sessions; I was going to be finished with Baseline (English Orientation Course) and begin teaching real lessons true to the syllabus; I was going to show a movie as a reward to my students who scored a 60% or higher (also known as the A and B range) on their Baseline Examination; I was going to teach Math for a month while Tetsuko was on vacation; I was going to hang out with the primary school kids who come to visit after school; I was going to kill the rats that have infested my house; I was going to host a Valentines Day party….well, you get the idea.

So what have I accomplished? I was able to finish Baseline and grade 122 notebooks and examinations in two days; I was able to teach Math for a few periods; I was able to really get my students involved and excited about learning English; I was able to introduce my counterpart to some villagers that I had talked to a few times that have cats (we need a cat to eat the rats, and yes, this little Mzungu is friends with more villagers than my Tanzanian, city slicker counterpart); I was able to provide my house for everyone else to celebrate Valentines Day; and last but not least, I was able to get struck with some unexplainable illness which has landed me in Dar es Salaam for 17 days so far.

I’m currently living at Econolodge at the corner of Drug Alley and Road Construction. Please, feel free to send my mail here from now on (just kidding, but it really feels like that). Thankfully other volunteers have been in and out for various reasons. Most of my time I have spent “Bibi-sitting” Patrice, an older volunteer who also took care of me like I was her daughter. The staff here knows my name and I’m the go-to girl for other volunteers to make reservations. Besides the staff, I have also befriended an older taxi driver, the shwarma guy, the man who sells coconuts, the shoe repairmen, the cashiers at the closest grocery stores, the street children, and the rice mama who serves lunch. In my free time I enjoy washing my laundry in the shower and standing with my arms up in front of the air conditioner.

I have also had some pretty cool experiences being a “socialite from the bush”, as I like to call it. I got invited by our Country Director to have dinner with Aaron Williams, the former Peace Corps Director. He was a little intimidating, but we laughed and talked about stories that only Peace Corps people can relate to. Then I ran into Raf, the owner of Swahili Divers where I got PADI certified in December. He invited us out to dinner, along with his wife and three other successful Europeans at their super swanky hotel. They were a fun crowd that told us hilarious stories of their world travels. One day when I’m rich and famous I’ll pay it forward to some poor kids and say, “This one time I was a poor Peace Corps Volunteer living in the bush…” Another really nice person “adopted” me for an afternoon. A thirty-something businesswoman from Poland who married a Tanzanian drove me to a spa so we could both get pampered. She was so lovely, but it was also really random. I love how loosely the term “friend” is used here. Five minutes after meeting her: “Since we’re friends I can tell you this…” I also caused quite the splash going to Funky Orbits, an ex-pat place similar to Fun Works, but with a swimming pool. It was nice to be able to get out and exercise a little bit.

As for my health, I am improving. I was having really horrible headaches, which originated in my eyes and my eyes were very photosensitive. The headaches and photosensitivity have become less severe, but I am still abnormally tired. I have had a CT scan, ultrasound, blood tests, eye exams and physical exams and they still don’t know the cause of the headaches. However, we did find that my liver is having some problems. Not sure if the two are related, but they want to keep a close eye on my liver until the end of my service. This means I’ll be in Dar every two months for blood tests. I can’t wait to travel 12 hours by bus to then by poked with a needle and turn right back around!

My mom wanted me to write a special blog about my first hospital experience. Remember, Newala is technically a town, not a village, with a population somewhere around 200,000. We are one of three hospitals in Mtwara region (which I’d say is about the same size as the San Joaquin Valley). So here you go:

Wednesday, February 13: Called the doctors to ask how I should treat these headaches. Tested myself for malaria. Took my pulse. Took my temperature. Reported back to Dr. S with normal numbers. He still wanted me to go to the hospital. I put on my new shoes from America. I walked very slowly to town. It took me about 20 minutes to reach the hospital. I walked in the gate and asked the guard what to do. He said something about a notebook but told me to go to this window to write my name. I waited about 10 minutes at that window. A student greeted me. The receptionist laughed at me when I told her I didn’t know what to do. She said I needed to buy a notebook. Walked back out the gate to the first duka I could find. Bought a notebook for 200/= (about 12 cents). Returned to the window. Wrote my name on the notebook. The receptionists then wrote my name, sex and age on the first page of the notebook. She told me to pay at the next window. I paid 500/= (about 30 cents) to see the doctor. They told me to wait inside. Ok, well where inside? I saw some benches so I sat down. There was one door for women, one for men. I was aware of movement of others on the benches and had to speak up and move quickly to keep my place in line. I looked down at my blister from my new shoes. I ripped it off and yellow stuff oozed down my foot. One large mama came up and collected all of our notebooks and put them in a cardboard box near the door. She put them in the wrong order-the first people were on the bottom of the pile. I sat there listening to 2 other patients say they had malaria. No, they probably didn’t have malaria. People stared at me, the only white person in the hospital. Big Mama waved me into the doctor’s room. It was an empty office except for a desk, which was littered with papers. I told him in Swahili that my head hurt and I needed to test my heart (blood pressure) and temperature. I asked him if he knew English. He said yes. I called Dr. S to have him explain also so that there was no confusion. He walked out of the room to find a blood pressure cuff. He took my blood pressure. The only English word he said was “hypertension”. He told me my numbers in Swahili and all numbers were normal in my mind. He wrote me three prescriptions. I couldn’t read his handwriting. He never checked my temperature. I walked out of the room. Dr. S told me not to buy the medicines until he confirmed what they were. I went to the dispensary. Gave the lady my phone to read the medicines. She hung up. Called Dr. S back and he was laughing. The doctor prescribed me three medicines to treat a urinary tract infection. I didn’t buy the medicine. I walked out in more pain and more pissed off than I had been when I got there.

This whole process from the time I left my house until I returned (I took a bajaj home) was about 2 hours. What a waste of time! But hey, now I’m in Dar with the nation’s finest doctors!