In Sickness & In Health

Well I am little bit disconcerted that not one person commented on my absence last week, Mmmmm and I thought with the NoTW having been disbanded you folk would have nothing better to read on a Sunday.

Well, I am well.

Now....
 It took nearly 2 months before one of the nasties got me and I made the trip to the private hospital for the usual round of tests, Malaria, Typhoid etc. In the end it was a case of ‘acute bacterial gastro-enteritis’ (translation = “not sure but it’s definitely a tummy bug”) and after a course of treatment that amount to 4 yes 4 antibiotics in one go I was cleared. I think this must be the ‘Domestos’ of treatment approaches – ‘kills all known germs - DEAD’. 

David, the brave driver who risks his life taking me driving.

And the sweetest thing was that many of the African staff thought that indeed I myself was soon to be dead, as random colleagues from the office would phone me up while I was off to say ‘sorry’. People I don’t even speak to had heard that I was ‘carried to hospital’ and so called I think, to say their goodbyes. I have to forgive them for this misconception as simply one of Drivers had written on the huge vehicle movement whiteboard stuck on the office wall that I was ‘carried’ to hospital. Not ‘driven’ or even ‘taken’, no ‘carried’ - no drama there then‘. It got a bit much when one the drivers (who clearly hadn’t ‘carried’ me as he still had use of his vertebrae) came round to drop off my drinking water and was practically in tears because he thought I was dying.  I expect it’s just because he has grown fond of the gouda cheese and tomato sandwiches I have introduced him to and was afraid of losing out on this regular feast (he’s also partial to a bit of Marmite but doesn’t like pears!)

But overall I was well taken care of and touched by the compassion of my colleagues.

However the very first day back to work, I experienced a conflicting picture. On my way home I got out of the car to pop to the shop when I saw a man lying at the side of the road unconscious with what looked to be an injury to his head. Some distance back one or two people were gathered just staring at him, keeping a cautious interest. I then watched 2 separate people walking by notice him, stop and cross the road to avoid him. Within a few minutes the crowd had grown but still no one approached. By this time I was waiting for the driver (not David) to return so I could safely and accompanied go over to the man to see if he was OK. 

Now I could use as an excuse that I had my bag and laptop with me which makes me vulnerable to theft as the reason I didn’t attend to him alone, but I will be honest, I was scared to. When the Driver came back and I told him of my intentions, he was clearly utterly confused and bewildered that I wanted to go and help. It was also clear that the Driver had no desire whatsoever to be part of the aid package I wanted to offer and would not be getting out of his seat. So I compromised and asked if we could find a way to summon help for him. Again I drew a blank. There are no emergency services. No 999 and I didn’t know what to do in this situation – neither it seems did the driver. There is an emergency hospital run buy a charity but they don’t have ambulances and again the driver made it very clear that I shouldn’t even entertain the thought of using the car for such a thing. So I asked him again what we could do. As he hadn’t the first notion he phoned his boss, who, it was clear from the drivers repeated sentence of ‘ I know, crazy white lady wants to help stranger’ (or words to that effect’ in the local Krio),  was also confused and said the only option was to report it to the Police.

Now I won’t go into full details of what happened. The driver was clearly very very uncomfortable at going to the police station, and it was evident that he considered my actions the most stupid, unimaginable thing he’s ever encountered.

His feelings were obviously echoed by the police officer, when he asked me to repeat three times the reason that I had dared bothered them. My, ‘there’s an unconscious man lying in the road with a head injury’ got a little bit meeker with his prolonged gaze upon me, which reflected his mixed emotions of annoyance/amusement/exacerbation and simple bewilderment! It didn’t help that that the presence of a fat white woman in the cramped over crowded room had brought all other proceedings to a standstill and officers, victims and suspects alike all fell silent to hear my declaration. After repeating myself for the fourth time (for the benefit of the sergeant who had come forward from the back of the building alerted by the strange silence that had fallen over his station), I extracted myself by adding, ‘anyway I thought I should let someone know, have a nice day, bye’. I was half expecting to hear howls of laughter as I retreated however several officers came to the front steps to watch me go, still utterly stunned that someone thought that police were there to help.  In fairness I did see the sergeant talk to a small boy and sent him off in the general direction of where the man was lying but the utter relief on the face of the driver clearly told me it was a wise move not to push the issue any further.

But what a difference. The driver stated that one of the problems is that the people don’t have compassion for strangers. And I suppose you cannot judge. When every day is a struggle to keep yourself and your family alive, what room do you have to be concerned by the problems of others? Others problems in this context will probably always involve a cost. The man lying on the floor needed to go to hospital but there was no-one to pay for transport, or for the hospital bed/drugs/food etc. Or the man may have been crazy and attacked his helped – when all your energy and resources are focussed on survival, why then would you put yourself into a situation of unnecessary risk. If you had been injured trying to help and needed to go to hospital, where would money for that come from?  What if you couldn’t work? So while at first people’s reluctance to help really upset me, I can appreciate how difficult it is for people.

It was OK for my colleagues to show me concern – I was not a threat to them and unlikely to demand or need anything from them. And I still believe that what I experienced when I was ill was the true heart of West Africa, where people do care and are kind and genuinely friendly.

So I’ve had a few lessons these past couple of weeks. Keeping well is important. As such I have now taken to having reflexology once a week with a British ex-pat who’s here with her partner. We’ve also become friends and managed – wait for this – to go out for cocktails last night!!! Yeah, I am saved! Now they haven’t quite got as far as espresso martini’s here but the mojito was passable! In addition I consider a Mojito a health drink as being packed with fresh mint and lime how can it fail to be medicinal?! I am saved!!

And I am also in the process of joining the country club next door to my apartment so that I can use the swimming pool and gym. I know that all these things render me a typical ex-pat, far removed from the population and poverty here, but being sick taught me how vulnerable I am and that I need to take care.



Living Room

And one problem I have noticed with having a lovely, European standard apartment is that I am not getting the cues from my environment to maintain the same vigilance with hygiene/health & safety – but, hey I’ll take that risk!

And on a final note here are a few snaps from my 'hood'. These are the old colonial houses built by the British in the days of colonialism. I am having difficulty though getting national staff to understand that we do not, and have not ever lived in houses like this in the UK! But god with a lick of paint they would be exquisite.

Home Sweet Home

Well here I am in my new pad, enjoying my view from my bedroom balcony.

The sunset from my living room balcony was also enjoyable last night.

(ps that is the Atlantic in the distance; as the Hamattan winds are still blowing the dust down from the deserts the air is never clear, but this will change)

Last week was rather hectic and there were a few tantrums along the way, not me I hasten to add, but within our ‘logistics’ team who were coordinating the move. Well I say coordinating but this culminated in my being stranded, alone, in an empty apartment for 5 hours when I was only meant to be ‘popping’ there on their request! I think the guilt of the team inspired an act of kindness on the Friday and they took it upon themselves to pack up my old apartment and move me while I was out the city. Thing is, they ran out of time and so by the time I returned to the office at 6.30, my life and worldly possessions were split across the city and I had no idea where I lived! I have also tried to put behind me the trauma of my underwear and other intimate possessions being manhandled by a group of big African men. Mmmm I wonder if they worked out what to do with the Wizz, never mind the……………!!!

Anyway the apartment is really lovely. OK we have to remember I am still in Africa and so its far from perfect but I didn’t realise how miserable the old place was until yesterday, when I had a hot shower for the first time in nearly 8 weeks. And at last I have unpacked my freight and been reunited with my memories from home. I admit, I have no idea why I brought 4 tape measures, but that is besides the point! And I still stand by the fact that transporting a cocktail glass to the poorest country in the world is amusing.

However this move has a bitter sweet taste. While logistics were worrying about getting 3 quotes for a mop head, my cleaner returned from work one day to find the house that she had been building had been demolished by the army and police. All her possessions went with it. It had taken her and her husband, along with his redundancy package, 6 years to construct it brick by brick. I am not sure exactly what happened, (I am getting the impression that here in Africa one will never know the true facts behind any act), but there was a legal ruling that the houses were built on land sold illegally. Problem is it appears no-one informed the residents of the 107 dwellings, of the court case, and the first they learnt of it was when the army turned up with sledge hammers and set to work. Or so I’m told.

Therefore as I sit looking at the view above, its hard to reconcile that I am living in a (relative) luxury apartment, when the woman who will scrub its floors next week has lost everything in life. Africa is far from fair and no matter how much I contributed to her fund last week, or how much food I leave for her, its going to be hard looking at her in the eye when she see’s my new ‘home’ and then returns to sleep on someones floor.

Not easy.

But despite this, I am getting signs that I am meant to be there. I entered a hall the only day which had my life in murals depicted on it. Strewed across one wall were the emblems of football teams from significant places in my life.

For starters , who in Gods holy name would expect to see ‘Bolton FC, on a wall in the third world,

 I can appreciate the Man U, and even Liverpool teams being up there ( Manchester = first job, Liverpool = OT degree), But BOLTON??? Random or what. All that was missing from the wall was a Birmingham team instead of 2 London ones (where I also lived for nearly 3 years). It was all a little bit surreal, especially the absence of other UK teams. I told the group of the coincidence and they all started clapping and some look a bit scared – Oh God, in a place where witchcraft is still considered in existence, maybe I shouldn’t be so vocal about these sort of occurrences. But BOLTON – What The Hell….??

And on the subject of Hell – driving. Yep, my favourite driver was a brave man last weekend and drove me an hour and a half out of the city away from man, beast and pot holes and let me loose. The best I can say is that I need more practice, and God love David, I think he’s quietly determined to make sure I succeed .I expect its so he can have his evenings & weekends back  and not have to skivvy me around the city looking for more Pepsi Max. I appear to have deleted the stock – but its OK, I’ve found diet Vimto now.

Well on that note, I better get ready for my lesson – we’re doing ‘traffic’ today – gulp!!

XxX