The Hospital Diaries: Part 2

"The good we secure for ourselves is precarious and uncertain until it is secured for all of us and incorporated into our  common life"  Jane Addams

Friday 16th August, 2013 - Morning

Jane leaves after getting me breakfast, it is a sweet mixture of hot rice and spice. She stayed with me last night and has insisted on cleaning some of my clothes, bearing in mind that cleaning clothes does not mean firing them into a washing machine, it means cleaning them by hand and can take its tole of my soft European skin. My team leader Eric and my Field Officer Jebbeh arrive, Eric is a tall Ugandan who has been living in the UK for several years. I inform them that the doctor seen me once yesterday but didn't tell me what was wrong or explain any of my symptoms. I find out later that Jebbeh went straight to the doctor and complained about the level of "care" he was providing me. She also pointed out that I could have been allergic to any of the medication they were providing me and keeping me in the dark could have endangered my life.

Shortly after Jebbeh had a word with the doctor, he makes an apologetic apearence. He is small, rotund and has a friendly face, he explains that there is no sign of malaria but I "have a little bit of typhoid". How can you have alittle bit of typhoid? Then I remember that my vaccine would have stopped it from becoming fully blown, first world win! It would explain the diarroeah, puffy face and nausea. He also tells me that he will be adjusting my medication accordingly, he doesn't informe me of how he will be "adjusting" my medication but I am so tired that don't bother to ask. I am just glad that I know what is wrong and that something is going to be done about it. I quickly slip into a deep sleep and dream of massive pills and talking IVs.

I am woken by a man in nurses clothes, he has my "adjusted" medication. He opens my IV and injects something into me, it takes  a while to go in and burns as it does. He sees me wince in pain and tells me that it is for the typhoid, the phrase "Kill it with fire!" has never been so appropriate.  He hooks me up to a new drip which he explains is an anti-biotic, the pain is unbelievable and my eyes begin to water. Once the pain in my hand stops I have no time to feel relieved because a powerful burning sensation begins in my throat and spreads down into my chest. My eyes go out of focus and the room begins to spin, holy God this stuff is powerful. I decide to chat to the nurse in order to take my mind of the fact that I am medically drunk, his name is Sayid and his English is excellent. I ask him if I can get mobile credit anywhere, he tells me that his friend can get it for me. I jokingly threaten that I will come after him if her nicks my money, Sayid laughs and gives me a reassuring smile as I hand him 20,000le which is the equivalent of £3.50.

I haven't seen may of my team today, and watching Aljazeera cover the crisis in Egypt is not making me feel any better. My mood is as depressing as the weather, I remind myself that the medication they are giving me is bound to mess with my emotions. Still I find it hard to remain upbeat. When Sayid comes back with a second dose of liquid fire I decide to ask him about the boy who died. He rubs his beard and tells me that he died of menningitis; I can't believe it, I feel like someone has kicked my hard in the ribs. In that moment I realise that I was hoping for that boy to have died of an incurable disease, that there was nothing that could have been done for him. I explain to Saiyd that I am insured for £1Million worth of medical treatment, and I could be back in the UK in a matter of hours if need be. How is this okay? How can this happen? I am utterly speechless and tears role down my face silently for several minutes

Saiyd breaks the silence by asking me who I think is responsible for the death of the boy. I say it is the Doctor's fault as no one else is qualified or even has the authority to administer that kind of treatment when he isn't here. I explain that in the UK if a child dies under a doctor's care there would be some sort of investigation or inquiry. He nods silently and I take that as a sign that he agrees with me, however, what if anything can anyone do about this? If I am 100% honest I don't want to answer that question right now.

Jane has returned for my third night in the hospital, she has brought small bags of pop corn, I never knew you could buy pop corn here! The senior nurse enters, her name is Jennebah, I really like that name and over the last few days she has become my favourite nurse. She smiles broadly at me as she hads me my medication. Oh new meds! I am genuinely excited, there are two huge tablets. Sensing my question she tells me to chew them, "Eh?", she ignores my outburst and I start to chew, it tastes like chalk. Jennebah laughs and tells me it will ease the nausea I have been experiencing. "Finally!" I exclaim, I will be able to eat without feeling like I want to boke my ring up!

Jane is perched on the opposite bed, I notice that she has taken out the fake dread locks. She tells me that she spent most of her time scratching her head and didn't see the point of keeping them in. I give her one of my legendary head massages and she almost falls asleep. Jane makes me laugh so much we joke about men, okadas (motorbikes) and quirks of Sierra Leone, I have felt so awful today and she is like a little ray of giggle inducing sunshine. One thing I will miss about Sierra Leone is the people, despite the rubbish in the street, the sickness, sexism and poor education Sierra Leoneans are amazing people and I love them, I love them a lot.

Saturday 17th August, 2013

I am having the most amazing dream about crowd surfing when I feel an uncomfortable tug on my IV. I catch a glimpse of lip-pierced nurse injecting me with more liquid fire, she then attaches another anti-biotic drip. Holy Christ this hurts, this hurts a lot! "It hurts" I grumble sleepily, she smiles sympathetically and rubs the IV into my hand, "How in God's name will that make it better!?" I think to myself. Between burning and stinging I feel like my hand is about to explode. She rubs it a bit more then walks out; what the actual hell, my hand is killing me. However, after a while the pain subsides and I fall back into a light and troubled sleep. Jane wakes me and hands me a bag of sweat rice and spice, it  tastes like rice pudding and is hot. It is the first hot breakfast I have had since coming here. Jane leaves to spend the weekend with her daughter, baby May and I finish sucking on my bag of rice as I watch the crisis in Egypt unfold once more.

My experience in this hospital has had a profound impact on me, it has really brought home the economic, social and political disparity between the northern and southern hemispheres of this planet. I always knew it existed but it never really concerned me a great deal. I had  my own country to worry about but I've realised that my problems are not really problems at all, in reality they are more like passing concerns. I have never had to worry about health care, education or getting a job. There are loads of jobs in the UK, loads! Most of the population in Sierra Leone are unemployed, adequate health care is hard to acces and when it is accessed the level of care is mediocre at best and receiving proper treatement is slow to happen. I never knew how good I had it, how good we have it until I came here.

The doctor and Jennebah are here, they tell me that I am looking much better than yesterday. Jennebah smiles and I cant help but beam back at her, "can I go home today?", I want so badly to back to the YIC and my team, because even though this experience has been eye opening I don't want to be here anymore. "Yes you can leave around 4pm", thank God! I shake his hand and ask for his name, he tells me that his name is Albert. I like it, he looks like an Albert. I thank him for the treatment, but I am really thanking  my nurses, Jennebah, lip-pierced nurse and Saiyd. They did all the hard work, they looked after me and if it wasn't for them there would be no health care in Sierra Leone. I don't see them as I leave, I wish I could thank them. I walk out of the hospital feeling inexplicably sad, I feel like I have changed in some way that I cannot understand yet.  I decide that I will come back to the hospital to say goodbye to my nurses and thank them, however, for now I need to decide what to do with this experience, to share or to forget. I think you can guess that I decided to share.

Thank you, thank you so much for reading! 

The Hospital Diaries: Part 1

The following story is a true account of my experience in the Holy Spirit Hospital in Makeni city, Sierra Leone. I have tried my best to recount these events as accurately as possible . My hope is that this story will help to open your eyes to the realities of living in a developing country. However, this is not an attempt to make you feel guilty or to upset you, this experience changed the way I viewed the West forever and it is one that wish to share with you. Take it as you will.

Wednesday 14th August, 2013 - Approximately 10pm

I have passed out several times, my head is pounding and all I want to do is sleep. When I am awake my team leader, Eric looks worried sick while my room mate Ellen and my team mate Bella cradle me. Jebbeh, our field officer has arrived and brings an air of calm to a somewhat irrate atmosphere, after I beg people to leave my room Bella and Ellen get me out of my cow print onesie and into something that is a little less weird looking. When I applied for this placement I never imagined that my team mates would have to undress me. I am bundled into a small 4x4 and all I can think about is how the upholstery smells like wet cat. I am vaguely aware that Jebbeh's sister Esther is in the back of the car with me.

The hospital is dead, I can't believe that there is no one here. It is rainy season, a time when practically everyone is sick and the place is empty! Then my brain kicks in and reminds me that this is Sierra Leone and emergency care does not exist here, at least not in a form that we would recognise in the West. After I faceplant a random hospital trolley for several minuets someone hauls me into a wheel chair and escorts me through to the private wing. This area is seperated from the rest of the hospital by a guard and iron bars. The room is tidy, clean-ish and basic, there are two hospital beds and I notice that only one is made up for a patient. I climb onto the bed and quickly assume the foetel position, a beautiful nurse with her lip pierced enters the room and starts to prepare an IV. I begin to sob quietly, the last few days of travelling and sickness has finally caught up with me and if I am honest I do not trust the nurses. Lip-pierced nurse tells me to stop crying with the bedside manner of a honey badger, when I don't stop she asks me why I am crying, I lie and say  it is because I don't like needles. A crying girl is the last thing she wanted and to be honest I don't blame her.

Jebbeh makes sure I am settled in and then leaves Esther with me for the night. Jebbeh is tall with beautiful features and dreadlocks, while Esther is small with huge brown eyes and beautifully plaited hair. Once I am connected to a drip that looks like piss Esther helps me into bed and adjusts my mosquito net around my bed. As I settle in for the night I hear what sounds like a young boy crying and moaning in the next room. I am annoyed because I am desperately tired and really want to sleep, when I ask Esther what the boy is saying she tells me that he keeps asking for water. The boy cries for what seems like hours and then all of a sudden he is silent, a few minutes later his parents begin to scream and howl, the sound pierces my soul and I know I will never forget it. The mother becomes so hysterical that she is slapped across the face, I don't how long they cry for, all I know is that the boy has died.

Thursday 15th August, 2013 - Morning

I wake to find lip-pierced nurse removing the drip that looks like piss and attaching a clear bottle of fluid. I ask her what it does and she says it will make me better. "Yes, I get that" I think but I hold my tongue, "aye, but what does it actually do?", she says it is for diarrhoea. I assum it is rehydration treatment. Once lip-pierced nurse has left I read the bottle, "Sodium Chloride and Glucose", I can't help but feel proud of myself for remembering some of my GCSE chemistry. Esther insists that I wash my feet and change my clothes, despite my protests she ushers me into the private bathroom which smells of crap and proceeds to wash my feet with her bare hands. I have never been treated so well  by someone who is not a blood relative. As she helps me change my top a random man peers through the open door and says hello. I greet him back, mentally noting that I am sitting in my trackies and bra. 

Esther leaves and I decide to read Fifty Shades of Grey on my phone. A more senior nurse comes in and hands me a cup of pills, "What are they for?" I ask her, she looks really confused for a few moments then replies "They will help you get better." Okay the language barrier has raised it's ugly head again, "What do they do?", every word a staccato. The doctor prescribed them she replies, Christ, I mentally face palm. Eventually she tells me that they are anti-malarials, painkillers and vitamins, malaria is so common in Sierra Leone that if you have a fever and headache they treat you for malaria even if they haven't tested for it. 

I reach a particularly inappropriate part of Fifty Shades when a young man comes in to take my blood and urine sample. He uses plastic tubing to try and raise a vein, I remember that every doctor in the UK has complimented me on the quality of my veins and has never needed to use tubing to raise a one! Compared to a local I am practically see through, why in God's name do they need to raise a vein! Despite my frustration I find myself giggling at my thoughts as the young man continues to smack my arm with the most confused look on his face. 

Ellen has arrived, she has long, thick brown hair and the loveliest brown eyes. I am so glad to see her. She tells me that the rest of the team will try and see me later. After she leaves I slip into a heavy sleep about my team fighting off a grizzly bear with flip flops. When I wake Kristine and Alice are here, Krsitine is a tall Latvian with the biggest smile and Alice has long blond hair and the funniest laugh you will ever hear. They have brought chocolate and biscuits, it is the first thing I have eaten since yesterday. My national counterpart Sahr, arrives shortly aterwards. After and hour or so Kristine and Sahr leave to conduct home visitations for some of our students. I am relieved and happy that Alice has decided to stay with me. We talk for a long time about everything and anything, we spend most of our time laughing. 

Lip-pierced nurse attaches another drip, I ask her the usual questions and receive the usual non-answers. Alice suppresses a giggle as I look at her and  raise my eyebrows as if to say "see what I mean!?". Bella bursts through the door and shuffles across the room to me with a take away box of breaded chicken, she is an angel and has walked a long way to deliver this to me. I really am blessed with such a wonderful team of people, I can't believe they care this much about me. 

When the day draws to a close I hear people singing near by, it is hynm in Temne, I think it is a hymn for the boy who died.

Jane should be arriving soon with a bag of clean clothes, I am sweaty and stink to high heaven. The doctor was supposed to see me again today, when I enquire where he is the nurse tells me that he went home at 4.30pm. I am shocked and somewhat disgusted, is this normal for all doctors in Sierra Leone? Is there a shortage of doctors? Is this why the boy died, because there was no doctor to treat him? I decide to be a little more patient with my nurses, it is not their fault if the only doctor for this hospital buggers off at 4.30pm in his white BMW (This is not embellishment, I actually seen it) and doesn't explain to his patient why she is connected to what looks like a bag of piss.

My IV has come out and I think I am going to be sick, the nurse removes it completely, then mumbles something angrilly in Krio and leaves. An hour later lip-pierced nurse is back with an accomplice. He is in a tye dye t-shirt and is putting on plastic gloves, I immediately think he is going to inject me in the ass  and the nurse registers my fear. She tells me that he is a doctor and is here to put a new IV in. Oh, okay, so the white people get doctors who come out at stupid o'clock to put IVs in but not to treat a dyng boy? Tye dye doctor and lip-pierced nurse leave as I grapple with the unsettling thought that I am being treated better than others because I am white and am insured for £1million. worth of medical treatment. 

Part 2 will posted tomorrow...

There and Back Again: An African Tale

“No other continent has endured such an unspeakably bizarre combination of foreign thievery and foreign goodwill.” ― Barbara Kingsolver, The Poisonwood Bible

Sierra Leone, where do I start? To be honest there is no witty or interesting way to begin a story that is 3 months long. I have stared at my screen for half an hour trying to do just that and failed miserably. I do not wish to write a chronological account, because that would be immensly boring and I do not just want to recount events, I wish to shed a critical light on certain experiences that I have had. I wish to bridge the gap between my experience in Africa and you the reader, I hope to inspire, inform and challenge your thoughts and knowledge on Africa and especially Sierra Leone. Upon arriving home I was asked a lot questions but the most common question was, "What shocked you the most?", to which I would reply with a resounding sigh and a resigned laugh.

The heat was the the first shock I received, it was like a wall of water tryng to force it's way into my lungs, I was feeling pretty stupid standing in my jeans and boots as the sweat began to pour off me 10 minutes into arrival. 6 of us packed ourselves into a small 4x4 which was even hotter than outside, we all laughed it off nervously and began to sing This Is Africa . The toilets on the ferry were vile, but apparently of a lot better standard than the private ferry next to us, this was hard to believe especially when the temperature began to rise and carry the smell of the toilet around the ferry. I learned very quickly that I had a particular talent for sweating a lot, while others would be mildly damp I would look like I had just taken a shower. I thought this was my body acclimatising to the weather, apparently not; the whole time I was there I sweated like a yeti in a fur coat. My proclivity for sweating copious amounts became famous within the group and the term sweating was soon replaced with 'Denise-ing', this is of course my proudest acheivement of the whole trip.

Finding food was difficult, this was an issue/shock that I only experienced when we were in our respective placements, as food was provided for us when we met as a group. I don't know about anyone else but for me breakfast didn't exist for 2 months, I waited until 12 to eat and even then it was a peice of short bread that the women and children would be selling along the road, they were affectionaly known as Kill Drivers. I ingested a lot of sugar, partly because my body was loosing sugar and salt through sweating so much and partly because the safest and most convenient foods were sugar based. One thing that I missed was having a decent cup of tea, you couldn't just have a quick 'cuppa tae', you have to light a charcole stove which was a nightmare and even then it would take, what, 40 minutes for the water to boil. First world problems, eh? There was one food based beacon of hope and that was The Clubhouse, a bar/restaurant that funded Street Child, Sierra Leone. It sold European style food for a small fortune and had a T.V, we really couldn't want for more. I spent a lot of time there when I was feeling down or homesick, chicken nuggets, chips and Minute Maid every time. Fruit was limited to bananas and mangos, apples were expensive and scarce which meant I nearly cried when I seen a bowl of apples sitting on my kitchen table when I arrived home.

The reaction from Sierra Leoneans to white people was hard to get use to, they would call us 'Oputo' and the children would want to touch and talk to us constantly. When I was in hospital two children stared at me from the open door because they had never seen a sick white person before, their shock was evident from their sharp intake of breath and wide doe-like eyes. Some would touch my freckles and tell me to go to the hospital because I was sick, others saw us as a source of wealth (which isn't entirely inaccurate) and asked us for money and or food. In freetown a 15 year old girl asked me to adopt her, I was so shocked that I just advised her to look up international adoption laws online. The stupidity of my response still makes me cringe. While Kristine and I were sitting in the middle of Makeni city, under the clock tower a woman tried to sell her new born baby to me, I almost threw up and all I could do was walk away and try not to cry.

I have painted a fairly negative picture of Sierra Leone, which was not my intention, there are so many positives things about Sierra Leone and it's people. What shocked me was how everyone dances, even the children, I found myself dancing with them, loosing my inhibition and really falling in love with their passion and energy. Sierra Leone is 60% Muslim and 30% Christian and is one of the most religiously tolerant countries in the world! They say each other's prayers, go to each other's schools and even marry each other, they have the upmost repect for someone's faith no matter which religion they adhere to. Sierra Leonean's express their love so openly and in such a raw form that initially it can be intimidating, however, now that I am back in Ireland I miss their passion and constant out pouring of love for others. Women openly breast feed and are not self concious about their bodies, they do not care about weight and love nothing more than posing for the camera, screaming "snap me, snap me!". Most of all I miss how giving and helpful the people are, our national volunteers taught us how to hand wash our clothes, cook, and where to find food. Our neighbours always greeted us in the morning and brought our washing in if it rained, when I was in hospital my Field Officer's sister washed my feet with her bare hands as I was connected to my IV. You cannot learn selflessness from better teachers than Sierra Leoneans.

Sierra Leone shocked and scared me sometimes but it also taught me a lot of lessons on how to be a better human being, it gave me an insight into what poverty will do to people and made me question my place in the world. The following blogs will be theme based and cover experiences that had a profound impact on me and others in the group. If you decide to read and follow this series of blogs I promise that you will not be disappointed.