I wake up but keep my eyes closed because my
eyelids are so heavy with sleep still. I know the power has gone off because my
ceiling fan directly above my bed has stopped, causing me to wake feeling
overheated and sticky. With the white noise off I can hear people laughing and
talking in a different language outside my window across the sandy, red dirt
road. The air in my room is still. Too still to be comfortable. I guess it’s
about 32C in here. The dependance I live in is just two rooms and sits
across a small courtyard from the house my friend Miriam lives in. We are in
Mango, Togo, 475km (295 miles) north of Lomé.
The power comes back on and my fan restarts but now
I’m fully awake so I wrench myself out of bed and dress with my shoulders
covered and a skirt that reaches my ankles in respect of the Muslims who
populate this area of northern Togo. I unlock my door from the inside and head
across the dirt courtyard to the house. The sun is blazing and a warm breeze
rustles the pink bougainvillea on the wall surrounding our house block and the
mango tree in our yard. The house is simple inside and a very fine layer of red
dust coats everything. The Harmattan winds that blow from the end of November
to the middle of March create most of the dust but also the red dust is kicked
up from the village streets as only the main road is paved.
I head to the kitchen to get a drink of water as I
wake thirsty every day. The tap water is dirty so we have a big water filter
and keep clean water in bottles for when the town water is switched off, which
is frequently.
The next step of the day is making coffee. The
power is back on but I need to switch off the kitchen fan to light the gas
stove to boil water in a saucepan as we have no kettle. I mix up the powdered
milk while I wait for the water to boil. There’s seems to be an extra step for
everything here.
Coffee cup in hand I sit on the couch and check
messages on my phone. At least Miriam’s house internet is reliable when the
power is on. It’s nice to still feel somewhat connected despite being miles
away from anywhere. I start replying to messages people have sent asking me how
it’s going over here.
I’ve worked a few shifts in the hospital now and
have an idea of what each day might look like. The hospital is run differently
from other hospitals. Patients must come between 0700-0800 and wait at the
front gate to be triaged and sent to the clinic for outpatient appointments,
surgery appointments and new presentations. Not everyone will be seen each day
as there are limited staff members and hours in a day to work. Patients are
sent to the laboratory, pharmacy, radiology or up to the hospital from the
clinic. The hospital has areas for emergency, men’s ICU, men’s ward, men’s
infectious, women’s ICU, women’s ward, women’s infectious, isolation rooms,
paediatric ICU, paeds ward, maternity/labour and delivery and neonatal ICU. The
nurse’s station to all these areas (except maternity/labour and delivery) is
central so it’s set up in a cross shape. There is also an operating room wing
with a recovery room area, although if we are under staffed the emergency nurse
will recover the patient.
The hospital is run by expatriate Baptist
missionaries but employs many Togolese who work in all areas and are the team
leaders and nurses each shift. There is a nursing school on the compound and
the 15 nursing students work in the hospital 3 times a week putting into
practise what they are learning. Each registered nurse is assigned a Nurse-aid
who takes the patients’ observations, helps with tasks, restocks and also helps
translate for the expat nurses like me. A patient’s relative stays with each
patient. They are responsible for providing all meals for themselves and the
patient. There is a place on the hospital compound where they can go out and
cook their meals (cuisine). They must bring all pots and pans and
essentials for cooking. They normally bring a mat or piece of fabric and sleep
on this flat on the tile floor near the patient’s bed. When a patient is ready
for discharge the family member goes to the caisse to pay the bill and
if they don’t have enough money they must stay until they can pay. For one more
night they can sleep in the hospital but after this, there is a place on
compound for families to stay until they can pay their bill.
The patient population here is mostly different to
Australia. So far I have seen or cared for patients with eclampsia, HIV sepsis,
chronic osteomyelitis, fractures, malaria, abscesses needing incision and
drainage, Burkitt’s Lymphoma, infantile fibrous sarcoma, snake bite, CHF,
nephrotic syndrome and premature birth (33 weeks gestation). Most of these
conditions I’ve never cared for so I have a lot to learn.
The nursing shifts are from 0700-1930 or 1900-0730
with a 2 hour lunch break, 4 shifts per week. Miriam had the bike man put new
tyres on her bicycle and this is now my transport to and from work and around town.
One night last week I barely slept as the power was
off and it was unbearably hot and then at 0430 the wind picked up and a storm
blew over, battering my little home. The sky opened up and dumped down rain. I
was fully awake despite minimal sleep and prepared to ride to work on my bike
in the downpour through sandy unpaved roads. I put my work uniform and gear in
plastic bags but by the time I left the house the rain had stopped, much to my
relief. The cycle to the hospital required quite the effort through sludgy red
mud, avoiding goats wandering in the streets, kids walking to school and motorbikes
zipping past, all keeping an ankle length skirt out of the wheels and covering
at the very least my knees.
As I drink my coffee Miriam hands me the Mango + 1
recipe book. All recipes are ingredients that can be found in the small market
in Mango plus 1 ingredient from a big city such as Kara (2 hours drive south)
or Lomé (9 hours south). I page through the book deciding which recipes I could
try this week according to the food already in the house, thankful for the
recent 18 months I had in Australia cooking each night and knowing those skills
will come in handy for the weeks to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment