6th August 2012
Two weeks into my adventure and the evening finds me sitting in our ‘toukel’ (being a round, open sided hut for communal living), penning this, the first instalment of my blog.
It’s hot and it’s humid and I’m having to pause every few seconds to brush away the insects
buzzing round the lcd display. The night’s entertainment consists of
the World Service-accordingly we’re all gathered round, listening to
news of Team GB’s record 22-gold medal haul (whoop!) I’m pretty sure
the guys at the base, though polite, are essentially nonplussed by our constant medal updates and general Olympic enthusiasm!
So who’s here? Where am I exactly, and why? I think a moment spent setting the scene and introducing the key players would be time well spent.....
I’m in West Africa, Sierra Leone to be exact-a small country about the size of Wales. If you’ve heard of it at all it’s likely to be for all the wrong reasons; a decade long civil war ended only in 2002 and the effects are still visible at every turn. Kambia district is in the North West of the country, on the border with Guinea and it’s population of around 300,000 is served by the government hospital in Kambia town, I guess the equivalent of one of our DGHs back home. That’s where I’ll be working for the next 6 months alongside the local staff and a few other UK doctors sent over by the Kambia Appeal. Currently we are four-James, Vicky, Suzanne and myself, and we are to be aided and abetted in our task by two VSO volunteers-Guusje (midwife) and Ryan (paediatric nurse) who have been at the hospital for almost 4 months now.
Home or ‘The Base’ is where we live with our Sierra Leonean family-Moses and Aunty, Charles and Abbas (the guys who look after us day to day) and several extended members including some very cheeky teenagers-Ibrahim, Alimamy-that means you!-and younger children-Small and Mamaya-who are all currently on their summer holidays. I have my own little room separate from the main house, freshly painted in cheerful greens and yellows-perfect for a hobbit! The curtains and bedspread are made of traditional printed fabric and I even have a four poster bed (!), albeit for the practical purpose of hanging an ITN (that’s a mozzy net to you layfolks ;)
Now then, I know you must all be very curious to know what the weather’s like here, being (mostly) British and all....Well, I can tell you that it’s wet. Very, very wet-the height of the rainy season in fact. I came prepared for this-dry sacks, wellies, waterproofs, umbrella, decade-long apprenticeship in Manchester etc etc.......But unfortunately it turns out that none of that stuff actually helps at all....turns out this is badass tropical style wettest-country-in-Africa rain and nothing keeps the water out for long. Nothing. Fungi sprout from every join of wood, clothes and belts moulder, cuts and scrapes fester on without healing. On very wet days we’re reduced to wading to work in our wellies, scrubs rolled above the knee (!) but all to no avail. Thunder rolls, the heavens open, and within minutes the mud roads have all turned to rushing red torrents. If you’re daft enough to be caught out in it (i.e. us), you’ll be soaked to the skin in no time and can then look forward to a delightful soggy-knickered day on the wards. Even when it’s not raining the humidity can be up at 85%. Still, it is beautiful here, especially at nightfall when the crickets start to sing in the bushes and the huge orange sun dips quickly below the horizon, sinking the world into an inky darkness broken only by the flickering of a thousand kerosene lamps.
I’m acutely aware that I haven’t said very much about the hospital yet. That’s because, to be honest, it’s all a little bit overwhelming and I don’t quite know where to start.....I work in a hospital without running water, without electricity (think light, heat, oxygen, whirrers, flashers, beepers, or indeed machinery of any kind), without morphine, blood counts, U+Es, X-Rays and, at the time of writing, without a resident Sierra Leonean doctor or surgeon. Most of the staff are volunteers and a trained nurse is a rarity. All this in a country which is consistently hovering near the foot of virtually any development table; where 1 in 5 children die before their 5th birthday.
To say that this is a million miles away from anything I’ve ever experienced before seems a little bit redundant. If I’m honest, it’s worse than I expected-dirtier, more chaotic, especially the paediatric ward* For now I’m just trying to settle in,getting to know my new colleagues, finding out how things work (or don’t, as the case may be!) etc etc.. But already several people have asked us if, like the previous Kambia Appeal volunteers, we will be running teaching sessions. Suzanne and I are both keen to get started as soon as we’ve got our bearings. Hopefully my next letter home should contain more details of our fledgling efforts.
Ok, goodbye till then. Missing you all rather a lot,
Kate
*although, Clare-if you’re reading this-your convulsions protocol is still on the wall-my very first experience on the children’s ward was a fitting boy being treated accordingly. He went on to make a full recovery from his malaria.
