March 19, 2011
Part of the Peace Corps philosophy is that we live like the people in our communities, and I have done my best to blend in. Recently I discovered that I share an experience that almost every Tanzanian has experienced at least once in their lives: uninvited houseguests, minyoo (worms). I will spare you all the graphic details, but I was not happy. I looked in my Peace Corps health book. Nothing, although it did say that under no circumstances was a volunteer to seek medical care at a facility in their community without permission from the Peace Corps medical officer. To do so would be grounds for separation. Ok, sounds serious, so I called my PCMO and he told me to go to the hospital in my village. My village! I have seen that hospital. That is where the slow (only kind we have) internet is located. He wants me to go there? I went and what a treat it was, because it gave me a rare peak into the world of medical care in a small village in a developing country.
First thing I had to do was open a file. The man taking down my information on a small scrap of card board asked me the expected questions. Then he wanted to know the name of my tribe. I told him that I do not have a tribe. So he told me to write the name of my tribe in America. Again, I told him that we do not have tribes in America. He let it go, but when he returned with my pink hospital pass, I glanced at it and there next to tribe it said “Chaga.” I always tell people here that I am Mchaga Marekani. It is true, we are a mixed tribe and do not all speak the same tribal language. That is why my kichaga (language) is different than theirs. I also have been given many Chaga names, mostly by old men coming out of the bar late in the afternoon or by crazy people walking along the road or by my girls. My name is Teresia Mamasawe Makaishe Angel Malaika. Anyway, now it is official. It says right there on my card: Chaga.
Back to my story. The hospital was crowded but I got special attention. One of the doctors personally took charge of my case (I think he is a doctor). He moved me from the file desk to the payment desk (the file cost about $1.50) then to an office for consultation and exam. He went out a few times to borrow the doctor equipment: stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, thermometer. You see the point. He told me that I would need to be tested so he escorted me to the lab. The woman handed me a small glass bottle with an opening of about 1 cm and a plastic vial with a small spoon attached to the lid. Many of you know me, give me a paper and pencil test, no problem, but this was just too much for me. I tried to ask the doctor and the lab assistant how it would be possible to collect a sample in that small jar. The doctor thought that I did not know what it was for, so he explained the whole procedure. Then he said, “Now where do you think you should go to collect the samples?” I was thinking that maybe this was part of the test, but then I remembered that Cheryl had used the hospital restroom before and had described it to me. No I did not want to go there. He asked again, and I was going to suggest outside behind a tree, when I remembered that the Lutheran hostel has a decent restroom. I told him I would go there and then return. Luckily they had soap in the bathroom that day because I used a lot of it. Went back to the hospital, turned in my samples to the lab station, and sat down to wait. Then the power went out. The lab tech opened her window and told me that the power was out. I said “I know,” and she said, “Ok, wait.” After an hour or so, the doctor came and told me that the power was out, what should he do? I thought that maybe calling Tanesco and telling them to turn it back on might be a good idea, but kept that to myself. I said that I would return the next morning. He said “good, that is what we should do,” and he gave me another jar and vial. Wait one minute, I worked hard for that first test. Now I have to take a retest? “Yes, the first one would be destroyed.” Ok, anything to get rid of those uninvited guests. All they do is grumble and complain and eat my food! I went home and gave the test another try the next morning. However, I know that my first results were better. I returned to the hospital and the power was on. The lab tech ran the tests. Nothing. The doctor took me back to the office and then ran out and returned with some books. He said that often tests can be negative but he takes worm pills every three months just to be safe. Based on my descriptions, he felt sure he knew what it was, so he opened the books to show me different medicines available. Then he said, “Which one would you like?” Again, I was confused, feeling like I was in a different world or something. He insisted that I look at all the choices. I was kind of partial to the one whose side effects said nausea and diarrhea, but I like to blend in, so I chose the one that said “most commonly recommended.” We went to the dispensary and my pill was dispensed. It cost less than 10 cents.
I chewed it early in the morning on an empty stomach and waited all day. The free loaders were sure taking their time packing their bags. Probably stealing the silver ware and whatever else they could find. Finally, the second day, peace and quiet!
PS If any of you were considering this as a weight loss plan, I do not recommend it. It stinks!
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