Third Time's A Charm

Fasten your seat belts, hold on to your hats, and secure your wigs because the following is a doozy of a ride. 

In the videos below you will witness first hand the entire gamut of human emotions associated with  SUCCESSFULLY killing a chicken.

WARNING: if you are a chicken lover please refrain from watching the videos but if you like chicken soup please cut and paste the following links.

http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=555961072945

              

  http://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=555984256485

I will have to admit that one of my previous entries may have insinuated that killing a chicken was a slightly less fear inducing activity, but there is no hiding the raw emotion of terror via video.

Burger Night

Unfortunately, with limited supplies and limited access to obtain new supplies, it can start to feel like you are living in the movie Groundhog Day when you walk into the kitchen for meals. Therefore, among the ex-pat staff, we try to think of new ways to prepare the food that is available to us. I came up with the idea of hamburgers, since I walk past a baker's dozen of cows pretty much everyday. I did not anticipate the idea to be all that unique considering they eat beef all the time here; I was gravely mistaken. Not only had no one actually tasted a juicy burger, but they did not even know what a hamburger was.  Hence, project burger night was put into effect.  We got some fresh  meat at the Saturday market down the street and began our preparations. To obtain the proper consistency, we used a grinder attached to the foundation of the kitchen table.  This means that you have to bend over like a hunchback or squat on the floor rotating a metal handle using sheer muscle power.  I assure you there was not a dry armpit in site. Next, I chopped up garlic and onions for seasoning and mixed it in with the meat.  Dora was on fry duty and cut up all the potatoes and cooked them in oil.  To top off the American burger feast we had tomato salad.  Dr. Tom contributed with a bottle of mustard he had received from a friend at another NGO in the area.

Warning: cover your keyboards before continuing on...heavy salivation is likely to be induced.

         Francis's first hamburger bite. He is clearly mesmerized by the flavors.

Phillip ready to sink his teeth into some meat.

Josephine says, "washing hair takes the back seat when amidst the air is a burger treat."

We helped Darius dress his burger right.

Julius proves to be another satisfied customer.

Yusef has now perfected the two hand "i'm lovin' it" burger pose.

Dr. Tom saluting gluten-free burgers

the full crew with their bellies filled

With the drastic success of burger night among the ex-pat crew, I have decided to plan another burger night for the locals who have also been deprived of hunks of cow hugged by two buns.  I definitely got burger fever because I also decided that I should open up my own hamburger hut at the top of the street.  If this dream because a reality I will try to follow the FDA serving size guidelines.  After all, I don't want to single handedly be responsible for an obesity epidemic in the middle of central Sudan.

Photo Montage #1

Uploading pictures takes forever because the internet connection is rather slow. It has also been difficult to take a lot of photos because my luggage was lost that contained the charger for my camera, which is now powerless.  To top it all off, my computer was stolen several weeks ago.  Against all odds and to satisfy the cries of my 23 followers, here is the first installment of a purely photo blog....

welcome to Gidel from Tyler & I

the full theater team ready for some serious cutting action

new home sweet new home

the driveway and parking spots out front

people beginning to line up for outpatient clinic

my outpatient office to see patients

sudanese sandwich

So what do you do in the middle of nowhere?

It's not exactly an exaggeration to say that working at the hospital consumes the vast majority of my time and energy. Nor is it a far fetched statement to say that this area is slightly lacking in the realm of live entertainment. But, I am a firm believer of making your own fun. So here is a list of some of my new favorite hobbies while living in Gidel.

1. Slaughtering animals

Do not be alarmed, I have not developed a sadistic personality disorder; I am simply embracing the inner Nebraskan farm girl in me. (Although I've never been to that state and I am pretty sure sledding in a cow pasture as a child does not constitute being a farm girl) In any event, killing chickens, goats, and cows is a normal occurrence here and I have become intrigued by it. I was taught step-by-step how to kill a chicken and when it was my turn I failed to complete the task. I had perfect form: my right foot on the wings, my left holding down the legs, its' head in my left hand and I de-plucked neck for optimum slicing, but then the chicken got squirmy. Apparently she was not too happy about having a knife to her jugular. The chicken's movements made me nervous and I lost my cool. So, I ended up handing over the task to a true professional (my ex-pat friend Dora). As of now I am 0-1 for making chicken dinner from scratch.


2. Learning a new language

The primary languages spoken in this area are Arabic and various tribal languages. I am trying to learn Arabic which is by no means an easy task. For example, the word "where" is pronounced exactly like "when." I mean, really? One of the biggest handicaps is not being able to visualize properly what you are trying to say.  My usual plan of attack is trying to write the words phonetically in English characters as an aid in memorization.  All of the national staff has been really helpful and I have made some progress, but I have a long way to go! So far I have mastered essential sayings such as, "I am going to pee" and "dance party today."

Most of the national staff are from the Tira tribe and they try to teach me that language as well. My American brain cannot learn both Tira and Arabic at once.  The only word I confidently use in Tira is diarrhea. I cannot even say "I have diarrhea." Simply just the word diarrhea.  I use it in many expected scenarios. If, for example, I have felt sick I will grab my stomach and say "gaucha." or if something smells horrible on the wards I will plug my nose while saying "gaucha.". There are other times, I will admit, I just say it completely out of context; it does roll off the tongue quite nicely.  I believe knowing one word instills a belief in my colleagues that I am still trying to learn their tribal language and it is important for them to hear me say it.  There is a chance they might catch on a few months from now when my Tira vocabulary has not grown.  I am confident my brother would be proud of the word I have chosen to utilize, considering that instead of saying "eeny, meeny, miny, moe" as children to determine the dreaded "it" we recited "ink, stink, poop, fart, out."

3. Food preparation

Let me start off by saying that Sudan is the mecca of sorghum, which means living here is a glutard's paradise. They prepare medida often, which is a sorghum based porridge. (Yes, think Goldielocks)  They even make marisa, which is a gluten-free beer. Overall, the food here has been really good. The cooks' staples are beans, rice, and kale.  Eggplant pops in sometimes, as well as homemade salsa.  Cassava is a popular treat, which is prepared similar to a potato. I have started to become an iron chef myself with the small kerosene burner and help often in preparation of various dishes; although I have had my share of trouble.  Often, or perhaps always is a more accurate term, I have been forced to call in reinforcements for the extinguishing of the fire. I spent one afternoon sitting in front of a roaring kerosene torch waiting for a fellow hungry ex-pat to stumble in. They walked in, long after what I had prepared was eaten, to a solitary kerosene burner strategically moved away from all flammable items in the kitchen.  They say the wicks were too long; I say we should get an NYFD volunteer for the year.  In any event, I was quite grateful (again) to stop inhaling the fumes and now secretly only use the kerosene burner when I know someone is around to put it out.

Celebrating Nuba Style

It was a first to spend the holiday season in a warm climate and be away from my family. Not having to wear a winter coat while opening Christmas presents on 1 Thomas Drive was a plus, not seeing my family and friends was a big minus. Christmas here in the Nuba Mountains was about as action packed as I've seen it get in these parts. People started walking to Christmas mass at the wee hours of the morning. I woke up at 6am not because I was anxious to open presents underneath a nearby baobob tree, but because of the sounds of chanting and drumming.  There were hundreds of people from various tribes walking to mass. I would like to compare this to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York with the Snoopy balloon omitted. The mass commenced with the bishop at 10AM and the sounds of praise continued well past that two hour celebration.

The highlight of the day was the tribal dance competitions. Representatives from various tribes put together a routine which they performed in front of the Bishop and about a thousand bystanders. Because we were considered part of the Bishop's entourage, we got front row seats to the event.

Not everyone was as lucky and they had to get creative in order to sneak a peek at the action.

The performances were extremely entertaining and we were also graced with the presence of many local village characters who liked to blow the instruments right in your face.

After watching the dancing and singing for many hours we retreated back to our compound, only a 5 minute walk away. We then enjoyed some goat and karadae wine that we had prepared the week prior. Some enjoyed a larger quantity than others...

Hopping Hospital

I have been in Gidel at the Mother of Mercy Hospital for about 3 weeks now. It's probably about time I gave some information about the hospital. There are 4 wards (children, male, female, and maternity) which all together have about 160 beds. There are another 10 beds or so in TB village. The occupancy of the hospital is almost always around 90%. Staff wise there is only one doctor (Dr. Tom), one nurse anesthetist, and only 2 nurses for the entire hospital.  Dr. Tom is the surgeon, internalist, obstetrician, gynecologist, orthopedist, and any other specialist you can think of. There are nursing assistants, but in general everyone is overworked. On non-operating days Dr. Tom and I round on all the patients in the hospital which usually takes 4-5 hours straight...if we're lucky.  The planned operating days are Wednesdays and Fridays with at least 6- 8 cases each day. For most cases I function as both the scrub nurse and the first assisant.
                                 

In addition to all of the inpatient work, there is an OPD (outpatient department). People are bussed in from all over or walk days to sit and wait hours upon hours to see one of the four clinical officers; there are even times they have to wait until the next day.  The clinical officers see about 200 people a day.  After all the inpatients are seen, Dr. Tom and I head to the OPD to assist in seeing patients.  Dr. Tom's perseverance is absolutely astounding.  I'm starting to get the hang of things, but still have a long way to go.  Right now my main focus is learning everything about the operating theater because the person that is currently running it leaves in January to finish high school.

I have already seen a ridiculous amount of pathology here...the largest tumors and abscesses imaginable: goiters the size of honeydew melons and abscesses that drain a liter of pus. We removed an ovarian tumor on an 18 year old girl that looked like she was 9 months pregnant.

    

It is astonishing how many people are able to have surgery and medical treatments with the limited resources

we have. The only diagnostic tool  is an ultrasound machine; the gel is precious and we often use pens to scrap at the last drops.  The only monitoring for patients in the operating theater is a pulse oximeter and taking manual blood pressures. The laboratory tests include CBC, UA, blood sugars, stool cultures, pregnancy, and malaria. Any biopsies taken are sent to Nairobi for evaluation. Dr. Tom's physical examination skills are top notch because that's ultimately the only reliable tool he has. It's all tactile fremitus  here! I know I will learn a lot from him...I already have in a short period of time. 

    

Kenyan Weekend

I spent the last weekend in Kenya before heading off to Sudan. The majority of the time I was just resting & relaxing in the Diocese of El Obeid in Nairobi. The time change (8hrs ahead) began taking a toll. The area around the diocese is beautiful, as is the diocese compound itself. My neighbor was an 86 yr old Italian priest who kept trying to make me eat bread sticks.  He thought I just didn't like the large bread sticks and insisted that maybe the smaller diameter bread sticks would be more appealing to me. Clearly my efforts of explaining glutardation were not fully comprehended. After 3 nights in Nairobi I traveled to Lokichoggio in Northern Kenya. I stayed at a small "camp." Loki was quite different from Nairobi and definitely made me feel like I was getting closer to my remote destination.

I came to the realization in Loki that living in Africa I will need to get over my entomophobia. Back home in the states I have been known to run away from bees and hop onto a chair if I see a cockroach. In Africa, all of the insects seem to be on steroids.  I spent the better half of the afternoon in Loki trying to get a hummingbird size "bee" out of the cabin. In addition to being bombarded by insects, I also had a rodent friend in the middle of the night. I heard some animal crawl into my window and scrape down my curtains around 2:30AM.  I then saw it scamper behind a bureau.  I stayed up the rest of the night under my mosquito net with my flashlight pointed in the direction of every noise it made. To top it off, I decided to make my own animal noises to scare the animal from coming near me.  That should be a nice visual for everyone- me wide awake under a mosquito net with white knuckles, holding a flashlight, imitating the sounds I would expect a larger rodent to make.  I found out the next morning it was an "African rat." I think that living in Africa for a year should be considered the ultimate immersion therapy for all my phobias.

Pictures will come as soon as my last bags arrive with my USB cord!