Weekend trip to Moshi, Massai Wedding, Njiro, Birthday

Three weekends ago we were invited with some friends to come to Moshi which is about an 1.5 hours away from Arusha on the bus, and also the home of Kilimanjaro. The bus ride is only 2,500 Tsh, which is a less than $1.50. I am really going to miss Africa prices once I come home. It was the same type of bus that I had taken on my previous trip to Moshi and apparently I hadn’t learned my lesson because I sat in the back row of the bus AGAIN. It was the only three seats left by one another but lucky my shoes did not melt to the floor this time. YAY for that. It was cloudy out and once again we were not able to see Kili. 

We finally got there and took a dala dala from the bus stand out the the university. Moshi has a very large university for African stanards (2,500 students) and it is where Kelvin attends college for Wildlife and Tourism. Moshi is a lot prettier/cleaner/and safer than Arusha and if I were to even come back I would love to stay here. Plus... it has Mt. Kilimanjaro! 

The college was having a back to school even that night and it was a good time. Except for when I ran my foot in to a short cement stair that I did not see in the dark and slit my toe open. I then washed it out in a tap coming from the ground. If I haven’t caught a disease in Africa yet... it surely isn’t going to happen.

The next day we caught an early bus back to Arusha so we could attend a traditional Massai wedding for the cousin of Kelvin. By the time we finally got to the wedding the “ceremony” had already taken place and the bride had left to go to her husband’s tribe, but the party was still going. At these events the women stay on one side of the village and the men on the other. We were not aware of this and followed Kelvin once we had gotten there to the men’s side. We got A LOT of attention. We were brought stools to sit on and given soda. We were getting plenty of stares and contemplated going over to the women’s side by ourselves but Kelvin assured us that it was okay. One older man came up to me and proposed in Swahili. Of course I said yes. 

Even though we had just eaten lunch at the TVE house we could not say no when they offered us food or “Chokula.” We ate this maize (corn) mized with banana and then rice with “meat.” We were given water to rinse our hands and then Amanda and I looked at each other and started digging in with our fingers. This is the common way of eating in Africa and we have done it many times before so we were fine with getting messy. In less than two minutes we were supplied with spoons. Apparently, Mzungus cannot eat with their fingers :) 

We were then given a delicacy to the Massai tribe and most of Tanzania that is a mixture of maize, banana and milk. It is boiled and then poured into a bucket. Before it is poured, the bucket is stirred up. It was a soupy/chunky mixture and you drank it. I had a little... I would not like to have a little ever again. Plus I was worried about what the milk was doing to my body, we never get dairy in Africa and I didn’t want it to upset my stomach while I was out in the middle of no where. 

We took some photos with Kelvin’s family and then we got into the car and drove through the dust dessert to a small village where Kelvin’s father was born and where he went and lived with his aunt for a year when he was younger. It was a cluster of five Massai houses and lots of land around that the family owned. We were warmly welcomed and it was a truly amazing experience. The people were lovely. the children were happy, and the scenery was to die for. I really don’t think I will ever see another continent as beautiful as Africa. Not from the lack of travel but because I honestly think nothing can beat it. 

The next day four of us went to Njiro complex for dinner and a movie. It was a much needed distraction from Arusha and the dust and the chaos. It was nice to sit down and have steak fajitas, and see a movie. We ended up seeing Transformers 2 which was the only movie other than Cars 2 and something Indian. 

Kelvin and Mark picked us up from Njiro and we thought they were taking us home but once the car turned away from home we asked where we were going. They told us that they didn’t know and were very secretive for the whole drive. We pulled into a drive way with a bunch of cars and once we got out they told us that it was their nephew’s (Mark’s sister’s son’s) third birthday and that we were at the birthday party. We walked in and there were about 60 adults and children all hanging around who immediately turned to stare at the four Mzungu girls who were walking in. The children immediately ran up to us and we scooped them up. We were given great Tanzanian food and had a great time. It seems that we always get to do really cool things when we are with Kelvin and Mark. A taste of real hands on culture. Love Africa. <3

Zaki's Massai Village

This is an extremely overdue blog post and I regret putting it off until now because I feel I have forgotten some of the details! I am going back to look at my photos from the day to try and jump start my memory, so no worries. :)  

Eight of us volunteers went with Zaki to his Massai tribe that is about a three hour drive away. We hadn’t even left Arusha when we saw this guy driving down the road. You never know what kind of crazy things you will see while in Africa!

A huge bull head tied to the back of this bike

Before we left at 8am we walked down to the little store by our house to buy some gifts for the village. We brought beans, sugar, rice, flour, butter, etc. It is customary in Africa to bring a gift any time you are invited to someones home. 

Once we arrived we were greeted outside of the village by a line of Massai men and women who were singing and dancing a traditional Massai “Welcome”. 

Zaki on the far left with his tribe

Once they had finished, our hands were grabbed up by the Massai as they invited/showed us into the gate of their village. Right inside of the gate they lined up again with more Massai and sang and danced again. Massai dancing is not what we would typically call dancing. I have a video of this dance and will upload it to my youtube page once I am home and have faster internet. It is very interesting. Massai men are also known for jumping extremely high and it was during this dance where the men all took turns jumping and called some of us up to jump with them. Obviously, I was too shy. 

Next they showed us the inside of one of their Massai huts. Massai huts are made of mud and sticks. Usually the huts are two roomed, one room for the women and children and one for the man. In some tribes the men will sleep on the floor in front of the door to protect his family from any intruders or wild animals. They use the women’s room for the kitchen and livestock will even sometimes live inside of the hut with the family during the night. 

Zaki and I inside of the hut

Next we were shown to an outdoor table and given sodas. These sodas were opened with a stick by Zaki. Most people here just use their teeth, I cringe every time I see this done. I have had enough practice that if I have two soda bottles or one soda bottle and a water bottle... I can use one to open the other. Cool stuff, I know ;) I am a human bottle opener. 

Massai people generally eat goat and we were given the option of having a goat slaughtered and cooked. Some of our group wanted to and some didn’t. I was among the “Yes” crowd. I figured that if I was in Africa... among an African tribe... who this is their culture... why not experience how they live. It would be a sham not to get a full cultural experience and even though I had my eyes closed through most of it.. I can still say I witnessed it. It was a very interesting process and is very respectful because no part of the sacrificed goat is left unused. They use each and every part of it for one thing or another. 

We were given the choice of how to kill the goat and we went with the more “humane” option of cutting the throat opposed to strangling it. It is a tradition to drink the goats blood anytime one is slaughtered and to do this you have to cut the throat. They hold a bowl underneath the cut and collect most of the blood. Then they stir it until ready to drink so that it will not clot... it still clotted, I saw. Two people from our group were brave enough to drink the blood. NO THANKYOU. Not for me. I had my nursing cap on and all I could think about was all the diseases that could be living in that goat. It didn’t help that it was disgusting either.  

I will not go into details on the carving of the goat, but if you would actually like to know this I can tell you at a later time ;) But they started by skinning the goat and then moved on to taking out the organs and carving the meat. I saw the men cut the kidney’s out of their sacks and pop them in their mouths like candy. INSANE. Very cool. I may have almost gagged. The horns are used as well for making goods. 

They cook the meat by sticking it onto a stick and placing it around a fire. We ate the normal meat you would eat and then also the liver. They cooked more of the organs, like the lungs, but we left those for the Massai to enjoy. 

When it was time to eat we all lined up on a bench and they brought a bottle of water and bucket for us to rinse our hands. Then they proceeded to take once pice of meat at a time in their hands and crave meat off of it with a knife. I’m sure it was the same knife that was used to slaughter the goat and hadn’t been cleaned.. but “While in Africa...” The meat was good but kind of tough. I have had goat many times now in Africa and also in Haiti and it actually is very good. Sometimes. This was on the “Good” side of the spectrum. Especially when you covered it in salt. I could have used some Country Bobs though, not gonna lie. 

We gave them our gifts that we had brought and we paid them some money for letting us visit and were then on our way. Until 10 minutes later when we got stuck in the dirt for 30 minutes. Zaki’s tribe is so far out in the middle of nowhere that for the last 45 minutes of the drive there are no roads... not even dirt roads, and I am not exaggerating. Zaki was sitting up front with Michael, our driver, and would point his hand left or right to show him which way to drive. 

Once we were stuck it wasn’t five minutes before locals were coming from 5 different directions to help us out. We ended up plucking some large plant leaves and placing them under the tires to get us out. 

It was a great day. The only thing that would have made it better were if the sky had been clear and we could see Kilimanjaro... and Country Bobs :)

Massai burns!

Two Wednesday’s ago I finally gave in, got brave, and got my Massai burns. I had to decide whether I wanted them or not and if so, I had to get them ASAP. We are going to Zanzibar in two weeks and I knew if I waited until the last minute to get the burns that the salt water would KILL them. So, two Wednesday’s ago it was. 

I have seen at least 60 people get burns since I have been here and it still had not prepared me for it. If anything, it made me more scared of them. When I first got here and saw everyone getting them I had no desire to get one. Then after being here for two months it started to make sense to me why people got them, or at least why I wanted to get some. 

Being here in Africa is something I cannot explain to anyone. It has to be experienced. I know I will never forget it and I know it has changed my life and my heart, just like Haiti did four summers ago. It has become a part of the person I am and I want to leave with something that represents my time here. So... what better a way than to get branded? :) 

I have talked about the Massai in many previous posts and also about people getting their Massai burns. Massai is the largest traditional African tribe in Eastern Africa and not a day goes by that I do not see many, many Massai people. They are everywhere and you can always pick them out of a crowd by the way they look and dress. They almost stick out as much as Mzungus! 

Many things are common in the Massai world. Wearing red, orange and purple congas and Massai blankets. The stretched out ear lobes. The jingling jewelry. The tire soled shoes. And Massai burns. 

Zaki is the name of one of the two house guards we have here. He is amazing and we love him very much. We see him every day and almost all day. One of the main reasons  I gave in to the burns, other that it being a bonding experience with all the previous TVE volunteers and to symbolize my time in Africa, is that Zaki took us to his Massai tribe three hours away. We got to see him way of life and the people shared with us so freely. Tanzania is a beautiful country and they are beautiful people. The Massai in my mind, are very much a staple of Eastern Africa. 

Usually the Massai have two burns on each cheek and they receive them as a rite of passage into adulthood. This usually occurs before the children are 10 years of age. Zaki has one on each cheek. I didn’t think that would be a good look for me so I got two of them on my left foot, side by side, on the same spot as I have my “Haiti” tattoo on my right foot. 

It wasn’t even a day before they were infected, my foot was swollen, and I was limping. But it was worth it. They are healing now and I have not regretted it for a second. <3

Getting prepared. 

The first one hurt SO BAD. 

First one finished.

Second one hurt worse.

At the Massai village this weekend. My burns are officially dried out. HEALING! 

Arusha National Park

Two Saturday’s ago Kelvin invited us to go to Arusha National Park with him. It sits right on the outskirts of Arusha in the Usa area. It was amazing and all we had to do was pay $35 to spend the day in the park. We drove our own car through with Kelvin as our guide. He works for Tanzanian National Parks as a guide and I swear he knows everything about everything. The park is very large and has multiple lakes, a crater, and sits in between Mt. Meru and Mt. Kilimanjaro. Driving through the park we could look out our windows and see both mountains at the same time. Some of the park was lush jungle and the other part was desert. There are also no lions in the park so you are able to do a walking safari but we did not have time and my infected Massai burns on my foot were a tad bit hindering. There are waterfalls in the park. Also, to start the climb for Mt. Meru, you start in this park. It was a great day and Amanda even drove the car for about 10 minutes! Scary, I know. :)

Two twiga laying down in the grass!

Kilimanjaro in the background of the crater. It was very clear when we saw it but pictures never do justice!

Mt. Meru in the background behind the clouds!

Joeli’s Second Appointment

We were told this past Thursday that since there had been no power during the day, that there would for sure be power at the school on Thursday. I should have know better than that. 

I woke up, got ready, and went to school. By 10 AM Joeli was still not at school so I asked Mary if there was someone she could call to get ahold of his mother. When trying to contact her we usually call the neighbor’s phone but the neighbor was not answering. Finally, I asked Mary if I could pay Hussan, the school driver, to take me to Joeli’s house to pick him up. He said yes and we got in the car and headed down to the main road. 

Before we got there we met Joeli and his mother who were walking up to the school. They hopped into the car and I had Hussan head towards the TVE volunteer house. I had worked it out with Michael, our TVE driver, to take us to the testing earlier that morning. 

We showed up at the school and walked up to the office. Michael talked to the principal in Swahili and I knew before I even asked that the power was NOT on. We were there for no more than ten minutes. 

On the way back Michael was talking to Joeli’s mother and translating for me. She said thank you very much and she was sorry and felt bad that it kept not working out. I told her “Hamna Shida,” no worries. If anything I was frustrated for Joeli and his mother for giving them the hope that he could get a hearing test.. and it keep failing.  

As Michael and I were driving them to their house, which is far away from the school, about an hour walk.... she was telling him that they had walked to the school that morning and that was why they had been late. He was so shocked that they had walked all the way to the school from their home and told her this. He asked her why they had walked. She said that she did it because she loves her son, and if there is anyway that I can help him, she will do everything in her power to get him that help. She also said that she did not have the money to pay the dala driver, so they had started walking to anywhere they needed to go. Michael translated all of this to me and it took all I had not to start crying in front of his Joeli’s mom. 

I asked Michael if he thought Joeli’s mother would be insulted if I were to give her some money for the dala rides to and from school. He said no, that she would be thankful. We stopped the car outside of their house and I asked him to translate for me that we would try and go again next week as soon as we heard there was power and that I wanted to give her some money for the dala fares so that they would not have to walk. I only gave her what I had on me which was 10,000 Tsh, about 6$, but if used for the dala’s it would be enough fare money for a month. She started talking in Swahili and told me, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, God bless you, God bless you, Thank you.” All the while I was still trying my hardest not to cry. 

We said goodbye and started to drive away. I rolled down my window because when I turned my head to look out of it there were at least twenty children standing in a group touching my window and staring at me. The area is remote enough that I bet they rarely see “Mzungu’s.” As we were driving away Michael started talking about what a great boy Joeli is and that he hopes we can get everything worked out. 

The tears finally came then and I told him how much I love Joeli and wish I could do anything for him that would be helpful, but that I feel completely helpless. I feel like nothing I do and no effort I make will make his and his mother’s situation change. I have two weeks left and I feel like the time is sand rushing between my fingers. I feel hopeless and I feel useless. I just want it to work out, I want him to have the opportunities that he should be entitled to in life. More than anything I want him to succeed. He is a happy and smart boy and he deserves the world, I just can’t give it to him. I want to be able to give it to him. 

Michael tried to explain to me that even the attention and effort I was giving them is more than they would have hoped for. I am pretty sure that Joeli and his mother live alone, many of my children at the school have only one parent or no parents due to their disabilities and being left behind. Michael was saying that so many people here feel alone and hopeless and that there is no one that cares about them. That by me caring, even if nothing came from my efforts, I was letting them know that they were not alone. I understood what he was saying... but it is hard. And it breaks my heart. 

This was Friday, today is Monday... the power is still not on. Please pray for Joeli and this situation. <3

Joeli’s Appointment at Mt. Meru School

I have spoken of Joeli in MANY previous posts. If I could get away with smuggling anyone out of Tanzania to come back home with me... it would 700% without a doubt, be this little boy. He is my baby. 

I have been wanting to take Joeli to get his hearing tested for a while now. He has been at the school for about as long as I have now and I don’t know why but we had a special bond right from the start. We were told he was deaf and that he would have to find a different school by the end of the semester because St. Dymphna’s is not equipped to teach signing and such. I have been working with him on signing and writing and this boy is brilliant. Out of no where one day he grabbed a pencil and wrote his name for me. Even spelling it correctly, and not the way we had been spelling it! Some of our 22 year olds do not even know how to write their names. He is fast to learn anything and everything and I want so much for him to get the education he needs because this boy could be something. 

There are certain reasons why I know Joeli cannot possibly be completely deaf. I wrote about the day at the swimming pool when he copied one of the words I said, but other than that, when he is playing with animals he will make the correct sounds.. or when he is pushing a car around he will make a car sound. Sometimes you can get him to turn around to a sound but other times you could honk a car horn inches from his ears and he would not flinch. It is frustrating. 

I planned with Mary two weeks ago to take him to Mt. Meru school and get his hearing tested. That week Mary came and got me out of class and brought me to the office where Joeli’s mom was waiting for me. Mary had explained to her that I wanted approval from her to take Joeli with me to get his hearing screening. I have a hard time with feeling humble and accepting thanks, it makes me feel awkward and I never quite know what to say. The two women talked in Kiswahili for a few minutes and then his mother stood up, came over and grabbed my hands and said “Asante sana, asante sana” at least 20 times. All I could say was “Karibu sana” (you are very welcome) each time. But mostly I wanted to thank her for letting me take Joeli. Many parents do not care about the growth and education of their special needs children, but Joeli’s mom loves him, you can tell. He always comes to school dressed nicely and clean, even if it is the same outfit. His teeth are nice and he is well mannered. I love this boy. He misses a lot of school and now that I am only at the school on Thursdays and Fridays it is a gamble whether I will see him or not but it brightens my whole week when I do. I hug him and hug him and kiss him and never want to let go. Don’t get me wrong, I love ALL of my children. Very much so. <3

Last Tuesday and Wednesday was a Muslim holiday so St. Dymphna cancelled for the rest of the week. I am Ashlee and I am a huge dork.  I don’t remember writing this, because my subconscious (which knows best) made my fingers move. I was worried that by not being there on Thursday to prepare for the trip on Friday to Mt. Meru School that it would not end up happening. But we made it! :)

Two volunteers that are at St. Dymphna now wanted to go with me so we all woke up early on Friday and left the house to be at the school by 8:30. We got there and Joeli and his mom were not yet there. We sat in Mary’s living room while she looked for the report that a previous volunteer who was a speech pathologist wrote up about Joeli. It took her almost an hour to find it and I was worried that it was lost, but it was found! 

Mt. Meru school was amazing. We went with one of out trusty house taxi drivers and he was nice enough to stay and translate for us. We got out of the taxi and hundreds of children were staring and waving at us yelling “mzungu!.” Our driver, Valence, asked a child where the office was and they pointed to a small building in the middle of the compound.   

We walked to the office and were greeted by the principal. He seemed slightly confused that we had just showed up to get a hearing test done, but after some translating and having Valence call a number that Joeli’s mother gave us... everyone was in the loop. We were met by a man named Michael and he showed us to a small room with a smaller office inside of it. He talked with Joeli’s mother and got his background information. This is just one of the thousands of times I wished I spoke better Swahili! I am very curious about his life and if he has always been deaf, etc. 

In Africa, it is always a gamble on whether the power will be on or not. This day it was not. The school was only able to take a background history on Joeli and then assess him with a few tools, but the actual auditory test will have to be done at a later time. This was disappointing, but nothing I did not expect. If I would have been smart, I would have had Mary call the school first before we went to check and see if the power was on. 

Anyway, Michael looked into Joeli’s ears and said that he had a small amount of wax buildup and that the amount was normal, but in someone who has hearing damage, a little means a lot. He said that when we come back to do the test he will first clean out his ears. He is unable to know for sure as of now, but his first observation is that Joeli is not completely deaf but has hearing loss in both ears. THIS IS WHAT I WANTED TO HEAR! Although it is not 100% sure as of now, when we go back and do the test, if he does just have hearing loss, I can see about getting him fitted and tested for hearing aids! 

I have less than three weeks to get his screening finished and for myself, I need to get Joeli settled in some sort of situation before I feel satisfied with myself to leave. I am praying everything lines up perfectly and that he will be at school this Thursday for Friday, that I will call the school and the power will be on and we can go right then. Worst case scenario... Joeli is completely deaf and will have to leave St. Dymphna’s at the end of the term... and possible not attend any school. I have been looking into different options if this were to happen. Best case scenario: he will benefit from hearing aids and then can either stay at St. Dymphna’s or since he is so bright.. attend a “normal" school. 

When I dropped Joeli and his mother off at their home, she invited me in to her home but I had to say no because Valence was waiting for me. I felt so bad saying no, but I hope she understood. I would have loved to see the inside of where they live. It was just a small square mud hut like everyone else lives in, but it looked like while the mud was drying they had carved designs into the outside walls and then it dried. It was very pretty!

Say prayers for Joei! 

Who Cares About Health Insurance, At least We Have Health Care

I got home from the “hospital” last Monday and cried for the rest of the night. It was by far my worst experience in Tanzania so far, but I cannot blame Africa. Really, I expected it would be like this, but seeing the extreme lack of health care right in front of my eyes was still shocking.  

My phone charger was accidentally taken out of the country by a previous volunteer so Sunday night I had very little phone battery left and I was hoping it would stay alive long enough for the alarm to wake me up in the morning at 6:30. It didn’t. Luckily my internal alarm is so use to going to bed early and waking up early that I woke up at 7:05, too bad I am suppose to leave the house at 7:10. I jumped out of bed, threw on scrubs, brushed my teeth and ran out the door while throwing my hair up into a pony tail. No breakfast.  

Amanda was still gone from the weekend so I was making the hour journey by myself. I got on two dala’s that were completely empty so it takes forever to get anywhere because they either sit until it fills up or they pull over to the side of the road every 45 seconds to pick someone else up. Our ride usually picks us up at the bottom of the mountain at 8:10. I already knew I was going to be late and would have texted Tanya to let her know to wait on me, but my phone was dead. So I got to the bottom of the mountain at 8:20 and like I figured, Tanya had already left. 

I stood there contemplating whether or not I should take a boda boda (motorcycle) up to the hospital. I have always been against taking them due to the lack of road rules/driving lanes in Tanzania and the drivers are just plain kicha (crazy), even worse than the dala drivers, usually. But, I have become even more against taking them since starting at the hospital. We have had at least four people in the past three weeks come in from boda accidents. The road up the mountain is also narrow and very curvy. Oh, fun fact: when the bodas come down the mountain...  they do not even start the engine but coast the whole 10 to 15 minutes down. Thankfully, when I was about to say yes to one of the 6 boda drivers surrounding me... a woman and man going up the mountain asked me if I would like to share a taxi with them. THANK YOU JESUS! I knew then that I would live at least one more afternoon. 

When I finally got up to Nkoaranga, church had already started so I decided instead of walking in late (although late means nothing, everything and everyone is late in Africa, it is called “Mbongo time,” which really works out perfectly with my lifestyle) I would take the time to go to the bathroom. I then went to the nurses station and met Derek, one of the nurses who was just on his way to church, perfect.... I would end up walking in even later than before! 

After church and morning report, we started rounds. The female side was mostly normal, the usual cases of malaria, dehydration, stomach parasites... etc. I cannot remember why but I left to go do something and when I came back I found the three “medical students,” Derek, Tanya, and the doctor all surrounding one of the eight beds in the room. The patient was a 40-something year old man and had come in a few days before following a stroke. When he came to the hospital he was sitting in a wheelchair and was responsive. When I walked in no one was doing anything and the man gasping out of his mouth while on nasal cannula. For those of you who do not know, this is a method of giving oxygen through the nose. It is NOT used for as extreme cases such as this man was in. I immediately looked down at the reading coming from the pule ox they were taking and it was 74%, normal is above 95%, and asked why this patient was not using an oxygen mask. I was told that someone went to find one. It was five minutes of watching this man gasp for air before the person came back with the mask. Like I said, Mbongo time. After putting the mask onto this man, his readings went up into the 80‘s. Still dangerously low.

Oxygen was not making its way through his body. His organs were shutting down. I was told his urine for the last 12 hours has been only 200 mL, this is extreme oliguria. His urine was blood red and extremely concentrated, this is an impossible amount considering he was receiving fluids. His pulse was 110 (which is high), and he was unresponsive, even to sternal rubs. Then things went downhill and he began to show Cheyne-Stokes respirations. This is almost always a sign of impending death. His periods of apnea were so long that I was counting 6 breaths per minute. During this whole time, all people were doing was trying to decided whether or not this man would make it alive to a different hospital if transferred. Tanya and I kept looking at each other and were in agreement that this man should not be transferred but that his family should be realistically told that he had little time left and to say goodbye. It is frustrating to have such a huge language barrier. 

At this point the patient started gurgling on his own fluids so I asked why we were not trying to suction this man. Three minutes later an EXTREMELY archaic suction machine was brought in. I wish I could have taken a picture of it. It was a large contraption with two large glass cylinder bottles sitting in it. Both with old secretions from previous usage. They took off his oxygen and started to advance the tube down his throat, without hyper-oxygenating him first. This is unheard of! I asked Tanya whether or not the hospital owned Ambu bags. She said yes but no matter how many times she tried to tell them how to use them and when to use them, they wouldn’t listen. This man was already down to 5 breaths a minute and they just removed his only oxygen.. and shoved a barrier down his throat. The suction machine did not work.. this man was having organ failure and drowning in his own fluids and the suction machine did not work. No one was doing anything. The doctor was standing there just watching the man die. His apnea was longer and longer and Tanya kept asking the doctor whether he wanted drugs. “Do you want atropine or adrenaline? Do you want atropine or adrenaline?!” The doctor was in a daze. Finally he told her to bring both. When she got back from pharmacy I knew that the man was already gone but the doctor told her to push the atropine anyway. The doctor checked for a heart beat with his stethoscope, he couldn’t hear anything so he asked the “medical student” to listen. I didn’t understand why they looked confused, didn’t they know he was already gone? He wasn’t breathing. And hadn’t been in over three minutes. 

This was a best case scenario. The hospital has no generator, so if the power had turned off... there would have been no oxygen, and no trying to suction. The man’s son had was standing and watching all of this while there were 7 other patients in the same room as well. Looking at this man realize his father had just died was the breaking point for me. No one had been explaining anything to him, for all he knew, the doctor still wanted to transfer him to another hospital. His IV was taken out and his son took a piece of cloth and positioned it under his chin, up around his ears and tied it in a knot at the top of his head. When I asked a local friend about the meaning of this they were confused and said that it is just something that has always been done. 

The whole time this man was in the hospital, only his son was there. Not even 15 minutes after he passed away, 20+ people showed up to mourn him. I know it is a culture thing, but they were all silent just looking around until the last person got there and then they all started screaming and yelling and throwing their bodies on the ground at the same time. Women were rolling around on the floor in the hallway blocking all traffic. The sound of the women wailing was so incredibly loud. 

A nurse and I went to the mortuary to find the man from the hospital who comes and collects the bodies. When we walked outside there were six dala dala’s parked in a grassy lot of the hospital and at least a hundred people were all dressed up, some of them in all white, hanging out in the area or laying on the grass waiting. Some of the women were singing. I was told that they were there to pick up a loved one to bury them. 

I had been inside of the mortuary before while on the coffee tour. But when I was there, there was only one body in each filing cabinet. The cabinets were full, so when we waked inside there was a body laying on the ground in the corner of the mortuary with a sheet covering only half of his body. In the next room they were preparing the body for the family to take him away and the immediate family members were in the room watching. Later when I told Tanya about the body laying in the corner she said that the cabinets must be full of 9 bodies... apparently when there are too many deaths, they stack three bodies on top of each other in each cabinet. 

The only good thing that happened last Monday, was that a little girl who Tanya had treated the year before from serious burns came back with her mother to visit Tanya because they heard that she was back at the hospital. She had been in the hospital at Nkoaranga for months, Tanya paid for all of her surgeries and skin grafts once she was transferred to a different hospital and even stayed the night with her for weeks. It was great to see the outcome one persons efforts. When you are here in the moment you do things blindly not knowing if it will benefit anyone or not. I know Tanya was feeling blessed that day seeing this little girl who had meant so much to her and who she had worked so hard to save, healthy and alive. You could see in her eyes and in her mother’s how grateful they were for her. 

For the rest of the day we worked on getting the pediatrics wing ready for opening. Tanya and I treated mosquito nets with water from a coke bottle and little medication tablets and hung them to dry. The government approved for Tanya to receive four new nurses for her pediatrics unit and three of them showed up today at the hospital. It is so wonderful to see all of her three years of work and fundraising result in something so special as a pediatrics ward. It is her baby and I am honored to be a part of the opening.  The beds are in place, the nets are hung, the nurses office is stocked and the floors are swept and mopped. We are ready for children!  

The German medical group is finally here. They brought two surgeons, a physical therapist, anesthesiologist, two nurses and three students with them. This past weekend they screened over 150 children to review them for surgery. Maybe only half will receive it. The ones who need it the most. All of the surgeries are free. All of the beds in the pediatrics unit are full with children waiting for surgery. Surgery will start tomorrow!!!