another day in zambia

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The irony of writing this on a laptop while listening to music on an mp3 player is not lost on me, I'm using electronics worth more than most people here will earn this this decade. The unemployment rate is basically 100% - most people scrape by through creating their own enterprise - carpentry, roadside stands selling anything you could possibly imagine (the smell of freshly popped popcorn is one that I particularly enjoy), barbershops, etc. It's hard to describe what Zambia is like to someone who's never been here, much like it's hard to describe America to people here, there's just no frame of reference either way.

So my typical day - I wake up early, 6:30 at the latest, slip out of my mosquito net and try not to wake my sleeping roommates. Off to the shower, which is a concrete washing stall, debate about combing my incredibly dry and crunchy hair, tiptoe down the unbelievably creaky stairs (and slippery, they're waxed everyday, so wearing socks is a death wish), fix myself a breakfast of either last nights dinner or a bowl of cereal, eat outside with Ella, one of the guard dogs, and journal and read my Bible and whatever book I'm reading that day.

The combi bus comes at 7:45 to take everyone to their morning assignments, I've been at Maramba Clinic this week, pick up the other volunteers from thier houses, then bump over the roads and what passes for a road to Maramba. Depending on the day, I either work in OPD (Out Patient Department) or weigh babies. But first a check into the maternity ward. So women here walk to the clinic when it's time, give birth silently, by themselves and with no painkillers. Then they clean up themselves and any bed clothes they've soiled, rest a few hours, then back home with the newborn. Strikingly similar to US hospitals. If no one is ready to give birth, then off to OPD, where I take the blood pressure, temperature and weight of each patient. If its a Monday, there's a line out the door and it's nonstop. Trying to take a blood pressure with babies crying and people talking and the patient coughing and trucks driving by isn't the easiest but I usualy manage to hear something and luckily no one really suffers from high blood pressure, it's usually not a skinny person disease. Once I do that, the wait to see the clinical officer (there's no doctor, because doctors leave Zambia to earn more money) is just a few hours. The baby weighing station is outside, the mothers wait until their turn, the baby squirms in a canvas swing and I peer on my tiptoes at the wildly fluctuating needle and wait for the baby to be still for half a second. Then back in line to get the necessary vaccinations, assuming the shipment came in and there are some to give. The combi comes around at 11:30 and then back to the house for lunch, which usually consists of an odd sandwich - tuna and corn, cheese and tomato and tuna, etc. Then a bit of a rest or swim, read and back into the combi around 2 to get to afternoon projects. I've done Home Based care (HBC), which involved walking with one of the caregivers to 5 or 6 houses in the community to check up on patients who can't get to the clinic. Most of the patients are have malaria or are TB or HIV positive. We offer any advice we can, check the blood pressure and temp if warranted and record the scant information in a small booklet (I forgot to mention that medical files are nonexistent, patients buy their own little school booklet, the doctor writes in it until full, and then it gets thrown out, so good luck on tryng to figure out histories.) Most of the diseases are exacerbated by the fact that the patients are unable to get to the clinic and only eat nshimi (a corn paste) once a day, but there's no money for a taxi or better food, so it's hard when I know that the patient's problem most immediate problem is anemia or lack of protein or fatty acids and there's nothing that can be done about it. The caregivers will lead us to the house/hut, and then expect us to figure out the problem - it can be a bit frustrating because I'm obviously not medically trained and I know that the caregivers know better than me what the current complaint is a result of, but I'm white, so I should know. Other afternoon projects include an adult reading club (mostly older women who can't read), farming, HIVE - an HIV education course, family services, etc. I'll write about those in another blog. Then back to the house around 5, eat around 6, and either go into town for a beer or read at home. It gets dark around 6:30, and we have to take taxis at night, so usually people just stay in and talk until around 10 (the teachers do their lesson plans) and then off to bed to sweat until I fall asleep. Then up again at 6:30.

The weekend are either spent doing activities around Vic Falls (gorge swing, rafting, elephant walks) or aound Livingstone going to the markets, dancing, sleeping and recovering from whatever minor bug was picked up during the week.

So the house that I'm staying in is unbelievable - built when the British still governed, it has wood floors, a large porch, a pool... and two dogs, Ella and Toby. Ella is a 40 lb shepherd type mix and Toby is a jet black 150 lb mastiff. Playful but potentially deadly to intruders - it's been a bit dicey a few times when visitors come (unfortunately they do seem to be very racist dogs). Ella is a sweetie and sitting with her in the morning is a good start to my day.

There are a lot of workers at the house, Ivy cooks for us - a lot of meat but we've been getting more veggies recently, which my body has much appreciated, Christeter cleans and does our laundry, which is ironed to kill the fly eggs that will otherwise hatch and the little larva burrow into you only to emerge a week later as much bigger larva. We are very well taken care of here - kind of nice after Europe to not have to worry about food or transport or beds or where to do laundry.

So that's a fairly typical day - of course nothing is really typical here, but there's some feeling of routine.

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