Unexpected Challenge

The other weekend while celebrating the coming of a New Year with fellow volunteers I danced, laughed and enjoyed the company of wonderful people. The next morning I woke up with twenty-six bug bites on my right hand! World record? Probably not, but still quite the feet! My hand a was an itchy, swollen mess of raised, round, red bumps. I found humor in it, however... I mean, leave it to me to get that many bites in one night.

After saying goodbye to the other volunteers and as we set out on long, long bus rides home, something in me changed. There was something new. A new year's change, you might say....

Malaria.

After a day of feeling off and then a sleepless night with a fever and cuddle-party with the toilet, my community mate, Gretchen, took me to the hospital. It was am experience in health care that I had not expected and was not ready for in my sick/delirious state.

The crowded lobby had dozens of people scattered about with symptoms and issues ranging from missing limbs to screaming children. After trying to give my information, the man at the front desk handed my my file (a piece of cardboard with the name Patrik M. Shey) and ushered me to a seat. Looking around there was a pharmacy, a labratory, an empty swimming pool blocked off, two bathrooms and about six doors with a row of chairs outside each of them (I came to realize that each door was an office of a doctor and the chairs outside were the 'waiting rooms'). After about 10 minutes of nurses and patients coming in and out with no system or order or succession of patient, Gretchen thrusted me into the room just as an old man was rushing out encouraging me to ask for both a malaria and typhoid test! My relief and excitement to finally see a doctor was short lived. He was about 25 and knew very little english (strange because english is the langueage used in education from high school and on). After listening to his desire to move to America and an awkward conversation about 'why would you live in Dar es Salaam and teach in Mabibo' I finally said: "MALARIA and TYPHOID TEST"

He laughed at me and then we started playing a game of charades to try and describe my symptoms. It also became a Kiswahili lesson as he figured out what I was saying and then taugh me (in a call and response form on teaching-game) the words in Kiswahili. One word that he did not translate (and I appologize and slightly regret writing this already) was diarhea which he began to chant loudly, I would even venture to say that he was yelling it at me with a large smile on his face. Maybe he found it ammusing? I do not know. I was exhausted and annoyed at this point. He then scribbled down a few words and said: "you. go to pharmacy. go to lab. go to here."

So, I took the scribbled on piece of paper, faught my way to the pharmacy, elbowed my way into the pharmacy, bought the items needed to preform the tests, traveled to the labratory, gave blood, was sent to the bathroom for a urine sample, back to the lab, waited for my results and then went back to the row of chairs to wait in line to go over my tests. (I sat next to a beutiful Massi woman in her 70s or 80s and her husband.) People kept cutting the line and we just kept waiting. Finally the man at the front desk came, spoke a lot of Kiswahili and got me into the doctor who said.. "two parasites. Malaria. Take this to the phramacy, take pills and drink water, bye".

About $15 and a few busses later, I was home, in bed and being taken care of by my two wonderful community mates.

The days that followed were boring. Me on the couch, drinking water and trying to read a book. We had no electricity and it was hot, per usual BUT I made it through.

Days later I am feeling as good as new! My tolerance to malaria is stronger and while I do not feel ready to start teaching in two days, I am happy to say that my spirits are high and I am excited to truely begin both living AND working as a JV!