Let me begin by saying that I’m writing this from the confines of my room in Lugela, which consists of a bed, a mosquito net, and a lantern on a small end table. Yep, pretty much heaven. Amy and I are staying in a thatched hut tonight. We have two bedrooms, a small living room, and an outdoor bathroom. Mud walls, straw roof, a single light bulb that runs off of a generator, and two candles for when the generator não e funcionada. And the generator is turned off, so I’m typing by lantern light.
The conversation through the paper thin wall between our rooms in our thatched hut:
Amy: 10 bucks says you got malaria last night.
me: yeah, my caffeine withdrawal headache this morning was probably my malaria prodrome.
Amy: I hope you die a slow death
me: I hope the scabies burrow out of your skin tonight
Amy: I love you
me: I love you too. Goodnight
So, we made it out of Mocuba without any further incident. We packed the truck with workers heading to Lugela, and we were off. It was actually a rainy and slightly chilly day. About an hour into our trip, we drove down a dirt road with thatched huts on either side. Welcome to Lugela! No phones. No electricity. No running water. It was beautiful! Rolling hills with a misty, rainy fog. Chickens, goats and ducks a-plenty.
They dropped us off at the training session we were to attend. Basically, there is a group of HIV+ people in Lugela who are in the process of creating a formal organization of people living with HIV, with the purpose of implementing HIV education programs, promoting prevention, and assisting orphans and widows who have lost family members to HIV/AIDS. Amy and I basically observed and networked with people.
After the meeting we headed to our residence for the night. It’s beautiful! And tonight was the first time since arriving here that my body has felt warm water. The outdoor bathroom came equipped with a double bucket bath…one bucket with cold water, the other steaming hot. So I grabbed my towel, lit a candle, and walked around back to our little tiki hut-esque bathroom. It was glorious! The night was silent except for the pleasant chirping of crickets. The air was chilly. The water was warm. And when I returned, there was a plate of chicken, rice, and shima (flour boiled in water) on our table. I could get used to this.
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2 comments:
I don't think you have malaria. While I have never known a life without diet coke, i can certainly appreciate your situation.
Lugela sounds really beautiful. I am finishing up my week of neurology clinic YAWNNNNNNN. It is so boring. And there neurologists are so.....slow..... They have a headache, just give them medicine...why do we have to talk about it for 40 minutes? What is the point of discussing "where the lesion is" if we are just going to get an MRI anyways? AHHHHH. I guess I should not complain though. Next week I start my month at NYU on pulm consult, so I am going to brush up on my CXR. I will consult you when I have the inevitable HIV patient with bizarre pulmonary findings, so watch your email. Hope all is well.
John
By the way, I don't think we have been corresponding nearly as much as we should be in our 18th century language. So here you go:
Dearest Kate,
Autumn has come to Washington and with it the turning of the leaves. Whilst this is lovely, my eyes yern to see the waves of Lake Michigan.
Humbly,
John Esq.
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