Life is beginning to settle into something of a rhythm now, even though we have actually been in Gimbie for only a fortnight. The garden is becoming established, and so far we have kept the monkeys off anything edible though they are eyeing my Nasturtiums a bit. Having hinted that we wanted some fresh eggs, last night we were presented with three chickens, one allegedly laying and other two soon to. The laying chicken however, temporarily named Betsy looks suspiciously male in the light of day and is making very male noises especially at 6.30 this morning. Karen is currently demanding instant removal and Danish neighbours are suggesting Sunday roast, which may distress Karen’s sensibilities so that he may survive another day. Certainly they are, given their shut in status a little noisy and egg free at present though enjoying a diet of pop corn and left over pizza. Film night last night was not an unqualified success given that the film was slow moving and with strong welsh accents, given it was about Dyllan Thomas who was according to this a bit of a shit. If film night is to continue we will need an action movie and I think we may have to reprise the Bourne Movies. Mat Daman here we come. The donors of the androgynous chickens were visiting with their adopted daughter Bella, who it appears was born here in similar circumstances to baby A and subsequently adopted by her mother who was working here as a midwife some 5 years ago and had returned to show Bella something of her roots. This has produced intensive local speculation that we will take on baby A which is a little concerning and we may have to sponsor him for a while. They are also concerned about our impending visit to Addis for car and daughter collection as feed preparation is a feature of Karen’s duties. We do now though have a few clothes and some feeding bottles. More rumour is now emerging about the run away mother, who now appears not to be the victim of personal tragedy, dead husband etc., but the unmarried mother of two, this one not wanted. Feckless parenting it seems is not the complete prerogative of the western world. Baby A cannot remain Baby A for ever and my suggestion of Harpo has been vetoed and Jabbo which means strong in adversity or some such been mooted. Sounds a bit like a star wars character to me but might be appropriate as that is where he is likely to end up living. More details and local agro are also emerging about the breech induction that polled up when I was on duty in that it appears, fully dilated she was given a piece of paper and then told to make her way by bus to the hospital and it was lucky that one was running that late. Driving in the dark in these parts is not to be recommended. Anyway both mother and baby remain well so tragedy averted more by luck than judgement. For those of you who know about the three delay model of care in the developing world, what one can say is the third level of delay is very low here, it is possible to set up a Caesarean section as fast as a category one section in the U.K which is indeed commendable.
I have spent this morning, the internet being down and all, reading Wasihun’s specialist training dissertation which is remarkably literate all things considered and has made some interesting points. It might be possible to caste it into a publishable paper and contribute to the rather sparse body knowledge on the best way to deal with uterine rupture (the real thing, not just boring scar rupture!).
In the mean time, the impending arrival of the American prolapse team and the ability to have a free consultation, rather than the 10 birr one (26.5 birr = £1) has opened the gynaecological flood gates, producing a rich crop of vaginal discharge (usually physiological but treated with cephalosporins), inoperable cancer of the cervix and uninvestigatiable infertilty which is a worrying personal problem but of little consequence to the country. So with the rumble of thunder in the background and at best patchy weather I go to find some hay for my androgynous and barren chickens in the hope that they might produce an….egg?
Monday, 31 October 2011
Thursday, 27 October 2011
nenatal musings
Well the continuing neonatal care of this baby-yet to be named but I am favouring Harpo after Harpo Marx or Harpic given his birth place continues to have highs and lows. Having established him on breast milk his mother did a runner last night so onto formulae which he promptly aspirated so had a v bad night but a bit better now though still intermittently very cold and unless Karen is there only occasionally fed. We persevere and he is beginning to look around. Not out of the wood yet though. A dreary day screening women for the prolapse team-they all have procidentures and seeing women with normal looking vaginal discharge and infertility which is impossible to investigate-no ovulation testing, no tubal patency tests and no man prepared to produce-so a waste of a consultation. Looking at Hycose but probably far to expensive for here abouts. Found an interesting cause of vaginal bleeding in a 5 year old but failed to get a photograph sadly – that is a vaginal leech…removal by putting lime juice on it! The other excitement today was the old and rusty delivery bed collapsed mid delivery, the head end falling off with rust or metal fatigue or some such. There are some other delivery beds dotted around but we are assured that they are broken but probably not quite broken enough to replace the rusting relic that is the preferred place of delivery. We found an under-stair cupboard full of goodies, which are no being inventoried but include interestingly a series of boxes with new destructive instruments which I have some reservations about letting various semi trained ‘professionals, for want of a better word, loose on. The cupboard also seems to include a tent without tent poles and a stack of chairs and lots of un- opened boxes and-possibly useful too some breast pumps. I am beginning to understand how little ‘aid’ seems to get to the place it is needed.
I seem to be drawing the rather more wearying nights on call, last night spectacularly at 12.30 when all good aid workers should be tucked up in bed after their dinner of uniformly grey and un-appetising beans, I got called to the labour ward. There was a woman in whom labour had been induced at some local health centre with a fully dilated breech presentation, having been fully dilated for some 18 hours or so and with a transit, god knows how of some 2 hours minimum. Both were actually in surprisingly good nick and I am glad I did not go in for heroics as the baby weighed 4 Kg. however it does raise questions about semi trained professionals a. deciding to do inductions in peripheral clinics and b. being unable to decide which way up the baby is – a little knowledge is indeed a dangerous thing. A primip who had been shouting the house down for 4 hours or so was also struggling so, sod it I want to back to bed and bean digestion so that one comes out abdominally too. Happily a woman with lots of stillbirths delivers normally and now has a child.
I have ducked screening for American prolapse doctors today, but met Heidi in despair as she had failed completely to teach a loca,l pelvic floor exercises for her stress incontinence.
Failure of the labour suite kettle means that I have spent a lot of the day ferrying hot water bottles to and from the house to keep ‘Harpo’ warm and trying to supervise his feeds which he seems to be absorbing when he gets them which unless I stand over the staff is not often.
We have no dioralyte left so I set o fto town and have found some lem lem so it will be interesting to see how our young man gets on with a new flavour-curds and whey here we come
I seem to be drawing the rather more wearying nights on call, last night spectacularly at 12.30 when all good aid workers should be tucked up in bed after their dinner of uniformly grey and un-appetising beans, I got called to the labour ward. There was a woman in whom labour had been induced at some local health centre with a fully dilated breech presentation, having been fully dilated for some 18 hours or so and with a transit, god knows how of some 2 hours minimum. Both were actually in surprisingly good nick and I am glad I did not go in for heroics as the baby weighed 4 Kg. however it does raise questions about semi trained professionals a. deciding to do inductions in peripheral clinics and b. being unable to decide which way up the baby is – a little knowledge is indeed a dangerous thing. A primip who had been shouting the house down for 4 hours or so was also struggling so, sod it I want to back to bed and bean digestion so that one comes out abdominally too. Happily a woman with lots of stillbirths delivers normally and now has a child.
I have ducked screening for American prolapse doctors today, but met Heidi in despair as she had failed completely to teach a loca,l pelvic floor exercises for her stress incontinence.
Failure of the labour suite kettle means that I have spent a lot of the day ferrying hot water bottles to and from the house to keep ‘Harpo’ warm and trying to supervise his feeds which he seems to be absorbing when he gets them which unless I stand over the staff is not often.
We have no dioralyte left so I set o fto town and have found some lem lem so it will be interesting to see how our young man gets on with a new flavour-curds and whey here we come
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
Reality check in Gimbie
Well, our baby is still alive and the mother is bonding with it as, happily are the staff a mixture both of pride, now the baby has survived five days and the labour ward being very quiet. On the down side I was called to a very septic and fitting baby and there has been difficulty getting the fits under control, but now on phenytoin and a change of antibiotics so we can only hope.
An interesting day with an early start as we went cross country to Aiya(?) hospital. Lovely drive in the early morning, with stunning views particularly when we cross the pass and look down on the mist in the valley. The rolling hills a patchwork of green with teff, grass and the local equivalent of oil seed rape. We also stopped and looked at the coffee seeds that are now beginning to grow. At least we have now seen and might be able to recognise a coffee bush. The road is completely red sand with no gravel as we discover when we come back after a rain shower as it rapidly becomes very slippery mud, though not noticeably reducing the speed of the drive, which becomes more white knuckle than usual.
The hospital itself is a German Evangelical Mission hospital which, according to the stone in the front was set up in 1928, and I wonder what happened in the war years, but today it is thriving, clean and clearly very competent. There is currently no obstetrician the resident Danish surgeon remarking sourly that he had been stolen by Gimbie Adventist hospital. This was followed by the comment that they needed an extra 10,000 Birr (£400 aprox) per month as a top up salary in order to attract some one. This it would seem is the cost of disloyalty, apart from the fact that its total isolation makes Gimbie look like the city of lights! That said however, the midwives we spoke to radiated both competence and confidence and as far as we could judge a real pride in their work. The labour ward made a real effort to give the patients some privacy and dignity, gowns were provided and they had both a CTG machine and a scanner together, wonder of wonders a working incubator attached to some oxygen, though currently without a resident. The midwives do ventouse deliveries and there is a metal cup, though I gather the suction is a little uncertain. Currently the surgeons, of which I believe there are two, carry out the operative deliveries and repaired the ruptured uteri, which appeared with depressing frequency in the labour ward book (aprox 2 per page of 12 entries) but I could find only two maternal deaths in 2010 which was encouraging. Never the less each uterine rupture represents a neglected labour (all you natural childbirth mothers - for that is what it is – please take note). Midwives do the retained placentae but the surgeons are required to do the EVACs etc. interestingly Eric, the Danish surgeon said that our local obstetrician’s dissertation which in reality is probably gathering red African dust somewhere, like most MSc dissertations I know, was comparing the mortality of uterine repair following rupture with hysterectomy. This might make an interesting paper me thinks.
The other very interesting thing we saw was the ‘waiting house’ a dormitory for pregnant women who came a 36 weeks and stayed there, cooking for themselves while waiting the onset of labour so they could go to the hospital for safe delivery. The absence of any known dates and the unreliability of dating scans, means that this is safer for the unborn child.
Interestingly, and ultimately rather sadly I noted that I was being followed by a young woman who asked if she could consult me about her infertility problems and a corridor consultation followed which was listen to rapturously by an increasingly growing crowd. Her problem became apparent fairly quickly-anovulation and I had noted in the local pharmacy that clomiphene was available. However at that point we got shouted at as this consultation would reduce the revenue of the hospital not withstanding that they do not have the appropriate expertise. We told her to wait at the car but she was spirited away-Kafka strikes again!
Their delivery rate is lower than that for Gimbie but both, in areas of enormous need seem to only attract a tiny proportion of the local population, whether because of cost (despite the Maternity Worldwide safe Birth fund) or because of transport difficulties and getting the mother to a safe place of birth seems to be the issue. As a medical student and a junior doctor I was taught that the pain of a rupturing uterus was one of the worse pains imaginable, so severe that even an epidural did not filter it out so God knows what these poor women went through. Thus it seems to me uterine rupture must be the sine qua none of the neglected labour, crying out for intervention and perhaps ones role is to make that intervention possible – how many I wonder never make it hospital at all and become the great unmeasured statistic?
We return to Gimbie to scenes of wailing some young man it seems chopped a tree down on himself, and has died of his injuries and I wonder as I pass this scene if death in childbirth of a woman would produce the same outpouring of grief.
An interesting day with an early start as we went cross country to Aiya(?) hospital. Lovely drive in the early morning, with stunning views particularly when we cross the pass and look down on the mist in the valley. The rolling hills a patchwork of green with teff, grass and the local equivalent of oil seed rape. We also stopped and looked at the coffee seeds that are now beginning to grow. At least we have now seen and might be able to recognise a coffee bush. The road is completely red sand with no gravel as we discover when we come back after a rain shower as it rapidly becomes very slippery mud, though not noticeably reducing the speed of the drive, which becomes more white knuckle than usual.
The hospital itself is a German Evangelical Mission hospital which, according to the stone in the front was set up in 1928, and I wonder what happened in the war years, but today it is thriving, clean and clearly very competent. There is currently no obstetrician the resident Danish surgeon remarking sourly that he had been stolen by Gimbie Adventist hospital. This was followed by the comment that they needed an extra 10,000 Birr (£400 aprox) per month as a top up salary in order to attract some one. This it would seem is the cost of disloyalty, apart from the fact that its total isolation makes Gimbie look like the city of lights! That said however, the midwives we spoke to radiated both competence and confidence and as far as we could judge a real pride in their work. The labour ward made a real effort to give the patients some privacy and dignity, gowns were provided and they had both a CTG machine and a scanner together, wonder of wonders a working incubator attached to some oxygen, though currently without a resident. The midwives do ventouse deliveries and there is a metal cup, though I gather the suction is a little uncertain. Currently the surgeons, of which I believe there are two, carry out the operative deliveries and repaired the ruptured uteri, which appeared with depressing frequency in the labour ward book (aprox 2 per page of 12 entries) but I could find only two maternal deaths in 2010 which was encouraging. Never the less each uterine rupture represents a neglected labour (all you natural childbirth mothers - for that is what it is – please take note). Midwives do the retained placentae but the surgeons are required to do the EVACs etc. interestingly Eric, the Danish surgeon said that our local obstetrician’s dissertation which in reality is probably gathering red African dust somewhere, like most MSc dissertations I know, was comparing the mortality of uterine repair following rupture with hysterectomy. This might make an interesting paper me thinks.
The other very interesting thing we saw was the ‘waiting house’ a dormitory for pregnant women who came a 36 weeks and stayed there, cooking for themselves while waiting the onset of labour so they could go to the hospital for safe delivery. The absence of any known dates and the unreliability of dating scans, means that this is safer for the unborn child.
Interestingly, and ultimately rather sadly I noted that I was being followed by a young woman who asked if she could consult me about her infertility problems and a corridor consultation followed which was listen to rapturously by an increasingly growing crowd. Her problem became apparent fairly quickly-anovulation and I had noted in the local pharmacy that clomiphene was available. However at that point we got shouted at as this consultation would reduce the revenue of the hospital not withstanding that they do not have the appropriate expertise. We told her to wait at the car but she was spirited away-Kafka strikes again!
Their delivery rate is lower than that for Gimbie but both, in areas of enormous need seem to only attract a tiny proportion of the local population, whether because of cost (despite the Maternity Worldwide safe Birth fund) or because of transport difficulties and getting the mother to a safe place of birth seems to be the issue. As a medical student and a junior doctor I was taught that the pain of a rupturing uterus was one of the worse pains imaginable, so severe that even an epidural did not filter it out so God knows what these poor women went through. Thus it seems to me uterine rupture must be the sine qua none of the neglected labour, crying out for intervention and perhaps ones role is to make that intervention possible – how many I wonder never make it hospital at all and become the great unmeasured statistic?
We return to Gimbie to scenes of wailing some young man it seems chopped a tree down on himself, and has died of his injuries and I wonder as I pass this scene if death in childbirth of a woman would produce the same outpouring of grief.
Monday, 24 October 2011
So from all the jollity of weddings etc. to Kafka meets Monty Python. There are currently three of us and one down the road but now after a meeting and the usual coming to no particular conclusion (very similar to the NHS here) and we all sit in one tiny consulting area seeing patients in a totally chaotic environment as they get filtered and sent on. I wish I had my copy of ‘Bluff your way in ultra-sound’ as most of the punters are dating scans and I am not sure where the on off button is (Brenda come back all is forgiven) but the others are all to keen and Karen keen to learn, so I try to look knowingly in the back ground. It is not however at all clear to me what happens when they leave the room or if they ever come back, but there are an awful lot of breeches about and no very good plan as to what happens to them though I try to give them plans-perhaps I will find myself doing some breech deliveries. The other houseman game I have had to be playing is screening patients for the ‘prolapse team’ due to arrive in a fanfare of American ‘second coming trumpets, though there is a lot of discussion about where they are going to stay-one thing is sure not here. Most prolapses and they are big but with tiny atrophic uteri in them are quite impressive and largely described as polypoid growths that extend out so far that it must be difficult to walk. Human ingenuity being what it is though they have invented all sorts of things to hold them up, plastic rulers and the like. If anyone wants to send me out some shelf pessaries they would be a great help. My first laparotomy was a pelvic mass 4 months post Caesarean, which we should probably in this environment draw a veil over but suffice to say it would be an SUI elsewhere of the x ray identifiable variety, however happily no harm done. Sitting in out patients a women presented herself with bleeding in the late midtrimester, but nu apparent pregnancy on the scan-at which time she told us the baby was in the loo-where we discovered him still alive. Now 4 days on we still have primitive intensive care with hot water bottles, an oxygen intensifier and thanks to the internet and Paul Crawshaw a feeding regimen. The mother has now produced some breast milk and an interest (previously missing) so there is still some hope but a long way to go. I have done my first, wearying, night on call in which I was called to a baby with a temperature, God knows why but good tone and lively-cracked and treated with ampicillin and seems better (even managed to work out the dose). Then had to deal with my first multip OP a failed Kiwi cup which is not something I know about then failed manual rotation and forceps-strangely shaped with a solid blade- and finally a Caesarean section at 3 am and all well despite spectacularly suturing the front wall to the back and leaving the non existent lower segment, actually cervix floating in the breeze, but discovered what I had done and rectified the situation so no harm done except to my pride! I put it down to the appalling light but in reality I think it more related to my relative out of practice state. Later further section for failure to progress in previous C.S but happily head high. Knackered I go to bed for the morning but am kept awake by God calling up the hill. I fear that I was taking Mohammed’s name in vain. The endless unintelligible and untuneful dirge that rises from the valley is actually something to do with the orthodox church-3 am today which is pushing it more than a bit however I am told it is much worse on saints days of which there are many so can only go down hill. Out- patient clinics of which there seems to be a continuous stream vary endlessly from dysfunctional bleeding, post- menopausal problems to ante natal care and just now stage 3b Ca cervix with a hydro- nephrosis. There is only one radiotherapy machine in Addis with a 6 month waiting list and quite a lot of money to have treatment which they cannot afford so situation pretty hopeless. How much of this they take in, who knows and they drift out of the consulting room probably never to be seen again. Back on call I do a tubal ligation one hour after delivery under local and she goes home a few hours later. She is the oldest at 30. Both caesars had steris and they are only 25 but that I believe is quite old in these parts.
Our up market mud hut (it is apparently made of mud) is becoming home and we have visitors, not least thieving hooligan monkeys one of whom nipped in and stole two bananas and then I found his head peering round the door looking for more and we have also had a film night with pizza and popcorn.
So what are our reflections. The baby has been particularly taxing as it has been difficult to get the Ethiopian nurses to take an interest and we cannot sustain 24 hour nursing ourselves and if we are to try and do something it does have to be sustainable, but now they seem to be taking more interest but are also slightly resentful of being watched. There is clearly a need for low tech small baby care but equally a long way to go and there are real issues about the sustainability of such interventions but it is difficult to watch babies die of dehydration and cold. There are many, largely poorly trained, pupil midwives about whose role is to stand and stare but it would be difficult but rewarding to put them to use caring for these young. There is a long way to go and no easy answers. There is also an underlying feeling that despite the poverty and general grubbiness there is no desire or will to change and the various NGO s achieve relatively little as they are frustrated at every turn and that much of the valuable asset is wasted. Certainly the breakfast conversations I eavesdropped on in the hotel in Addis which seemed to be a meeting place for querulous visiting charity representatives and prosperous looking local representatives needs assessment and scoping with very little doing or delivery and there is scant evidence that I have seen that aid gets where it is needed, but early days. The other issue, local visitors aside is aid tourism as the effort, costs and time involved in getting out here has to be worthwhile in terms of what can be achieved and has to be useful to the population rather than an adventure for you – yes of course it is rewarding to resolve difficult situations and you will learn much of how you can cope with really very little but the only value to the community of coming is to leave skills behind and that is where the real difficulty lies as imparting skills and knowledge is very difficult in these circumstances and to a group that I suspect feel that what they are up to is fine and are resentful of interference and people telling them that they could do it better (which manifestly they could) and deep down it is the way it is and cannot be changed.
Thus I do have mixed feelings about prolapse teams swinging in to do lots of operations and fistula tourists all of whom are coming in to hone their own skills rather than leave a cadre of people behind who can both deal with these problems but more importantly stop them happening in the first place by better obstetric care and reduced family size.
To be continued……….
Our up market mud hut (it is apparently made of mud) is becoming home and we have visitors, not least thieving hooligan monkeys one of whom nipped in and stole two bananas and then I found his head peering round the door looking for more and we have also had a film night with pizza and popcorn.
So what are our reflections. The baby has been particularly taxing as it has been difficult to get the Ethiopian nurses to take an interest and we cannot sustain 24 hour nursing ourselves and if we are to try and do something it does have to be sustainable, but now they seem to be taking more interest but are also slightly resentful of being watched. There is clearly a need for low tech small baby care but equally a long way to go and there are real issues about the sustainability of such interventions but it is difficult to watch babies die of dehydration and cold. There are many, largely poorly trained, pupil midwives about whose role is to stand and stare but it would be difficult but rewarding to put them to use caring for these young. There is a long way to go and no easy answers. There is also an underlying feeling that despite the poverty and general grubbiness there is no desire or will to change and the various NGO s achieve relatively little as they are frustrated at every turn and that much of the valuable asset is wasted. Certainly the breakfast conversations I eavesdropped on in the hotel in Addis which seemed to be a meeting place for querulous visiting charity representatives and prosperous looking local representatives needs assessment and scoping with very little doing or delivery and there is scant evidence that I have seen that aid gets where it is needed, but early days. The other issue, local visitors aside is aid tourism as the effort, costs and time involved in getting out here has to be worthwhile in terms of what can be achieved and has to be useful to the population rather than an adventure for you – yes of course it is rewarding to resolve difficult situations and you will learn much of how you can cope with really very little but the only value to the community of coming is to leave skills behind and that is where the real difficulty lies as imparting skills and knowledge is very difficult in these circumstances and to a group that I suspect feel that what they are up to is fine and are resentful of interference and people telling them that they could do it better (which manifestly they could) and deep down it is the way it is and cannot be changed.
Thus I do have mixed feelings about prolapse teams swinging in to do lots of operations and fistula tourists all of whom are coming in to hone their own skills rather than leave a cadre of people behind who can both deal with these problems but more importantly stop them happening in the first place by better obstetric care and reduced family size.
To be continued……….
Monday, 17 October 2011
So, Gimbie here we come, devastatingly early wake up and luggage dragged downstairs to await land cruiser, sundry passengers and an improbable pile of luggage including scarce to obtain items in Gimbie such as milk. All luggage finally strapped to roof and on our way at break neck not to say white knuckle speed avoiding wandering goats, cows humans and even monkeys with a fine disregard for blind corners, brows of hills or white lines courtesy of Chinese engineers who still have to finish a peculiarly grizzly 120Km. Finally we arrive at the hospital and our new ‘home’ a bungalow that has stood empty and unvisited for a few months, with that typical musty smell and worries (unfounded thankfully) of little visitors who have made it their home. That night and the following day we set to work with various sprays, fairy liquid from home and a mop that has seen better days to clean and prepare. Now vaguely habitable with a mosquito net that looks like an anophelean super highway to sleeping skin it has so many holes we are settling in. A trip to the high street was greeted with the usual cries of farange, you, you, you and give me money, and the inability to buy any cutlery at all (they eat with injera and their fingers) and with the sad news that the haven of the European, Jimmy Juice had closed through lack of trade. The recession stretches far it seems.
That night had supper of lentils and other pulsey looking things with our Danish neighbours and Clara. Danes greeted red fluid of vineous extraction with delight. Also there was the Ethiopian doctor who was nice but shy and quite clearly wants to do it all, which is fine by me but although a Farange I am the only registered specialist in the place. However I assisted at a tolerable section, and watched him do a postpartum tubal ligation under local anaesthetic without making the patient wince too much. The patients are largely thin with divarified recti so it is not that difficult. Ends of tubes have to be inspected as there is nothing like histology here. To add to the practice curiosities the caesarean section was performed using chromic cat gut, which those of you of my generation will remember well. With the Danes, local employee who wants to do it all and me we are rather over doctored at the moment or at least all the doctors are in the wrong place. Karen has headed off to the Health Centres today so look forward to her report with interest. Yesterday was even more bizarre with an invite to a local Adventist wedding, a glorious mixture of American Evangelism, largely, no totally lost on me because it was in Oromo and African dancing and singing. Much of the service and lacy dresses are however missed because the video camera is all and all you get to see is the butt of a camera man dressed like a break dancing rapper. The service was interrupted by bang of exploding balloons as the light man got to close to them, the inevitable bleat of various mobile phones and random people walking up to take photographs. Even the bride paused to read a message mid sermon. A curious custom is the best men turn up at the groom’s house together with the groom’s guests, including us, to dress him, watch him pray and eat something with elders of the church before accompanying him to the church. (This is when the first of a series of horn honking auto processions takes place.) We then hung around the church (there was at this time a power cut) while he went off to collect his bride, and leave her at the back to process in and then greet her and her family half way down the aisle, various brides maids and boys with candles processing before. All this was done to a rendition of the triumphal march from Aida (it has another unfortunate title too). There was some nice if slightly fractured Oromo part singing and some splendid African male voice singing which together with some ululating produces a splendid sound.
Back in the cars all squashed together we have another high speed honking chase to the wedding feast where we sit in rows in front of a dais where the major guest eat and enjoy the meal. Karen bravely went for the boiled goat, I went for the vegetarian option, rice and cabbage (yes I will be thinner when I return) and Clara trumped all by getting a spoon. Eating rice with bits of injera is a skill I have yet to acquire. All this was being endlessly photographed and videoed for posterity. There was a large multi-coloured wedding cake on display which was ceremoniously cut and fed to senior guests (a singular honour) and then put back into its box-we got chewing gum.
Photos continued by a rather beautiful old bridge, a relic of the Italians, before we all set off another white knuckle ride, briefly interrupted by one of the passengers having a road side chunder.
We were dropped off at the hospital while others went on to deliver bride and groom to their new marital home. A fascinating experience and honoured to be asked, but bride and groom did not speak to any of the guests at all-we were all there as voyeurs.
So first impressions are mixed, all superficially very friendly, roles yet to be established and the ‘need’ not particularly apparent in this hospital and not being addressed in the community in a way in which women are coming forward – we shall see how things go over the next week, month, year so stay tuned. As I close some religious activity has started coming up the valley-it is very loud and distorted-the Lord works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.
That night had supper of lentils and other pulsey looking things with our Danish neighbours and Clara. Danes greeted red fluid of vineous extraction with delight. Also there was the Ethiopian doctor who was nice but shy and quite clearly wants to do it all, which is fine by me but although a Farange I am the only registered specialist in the place. However I assisted at a tolerable section, and watched him do a postpartum tubal ligation under local anaesthetic without making the patient wince too much. The patients are largely thin with divarified recti so it is not that difficult. Ends of tubes have to be inspected as there is nothing like histology here. To add to the practice curiosities the caesarean section was performed using chromic cat gut, which those of you of my generation will remember well. With the Danes, local employee who wants to do it all and me we are rather over doctored at the moment or at least all the doctors are in the wrong place. Karen has headed off to the Health Centres today so look forward to her report with interest. Yesterday was even more bizarre with an invite to a local Adventist wedding, a glorious mixture of American Evangelism, largely, no totally lost on me because it was in Oromo and African dancing and singing. Much of the service and lacy dresses are however missed because the video camera is all and all you get to see is the butt of a camera man dressed like a break dancing rapper. The service was interrupted by bang of exploding balloons as the light man got to close to them, the inevitable bleat of various mobile phones and random people walking up to take photographs. Even the bride paused to read a message mid sermon. A curious custom is the best men turn up at the groom’s house together with the groom’s guests, including us, to dress him, watch him pray and eat something with elders of the church before accompanying him to the church. (This is when the first of a series of horn honking auto processions takes place.) We then hung around the church (there was at this time a power cut) while he went off to collect his bride, and leave her at the back to process in and then greet her and her family half way down the aisle, various brides maids and boys with candles processing before. All this was done to a rendition of the triumphal march from Aida (it has another unfortunate title too). There was some nice if slightly fractured Oromo part singing and some splendid African male voice singing which together with some ululating produces a splendid sound.
Back in the cars all squashed together we have another high speed honking chase to the wedding feast where we sit in rows in front of a dais where the major guest eat and enjoy the meal. Karen bravely went for the boiled goat, I went for the vegetarian option, rice and cabbage (yes I will be thinner when I return) and Clara trumped all by getting a spoon. Eating rice with bits of injera is a skill I have yet to acquire. All this was being endlessly photographed and videoed for posterity. There was a large multi-coloured wedding cake on display which was ceremoniously cut and fed to senior guests (a singular honour) and then put back into its box-we got chewing gum.
Photos continued by a rather beautiful old bridge, a relic of the Italians, before we all set off another white knuckle ride, briefly interrupted by one of the passengers having a road side chunder.
We were dropped off at the hospital while others went on to deliver bride and groom to their new marital home. A fascinating experience and honoured to be asked, but bride and groom did not speak to any of the guests at all-we were all there as voyeurs.
So first impressions are mixed, all superficially very friendly, roles yet to be established and the ‘need’ not particularly apparent in this hospital and not being addressed in the community in a way in which women are coming forward – we shall see how things go over the next week, month, year so stay tuned. As I close some religious activity has started coming up the valley-it is very loud and distorted-the Lord works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform.
Sunday, 16 October 2011
Addis and On
Well a week in Addis eating endlessly in the Greek Club because we could think of no where else to go, though latterly we have found a bar with football machines and cold draft St Georges in the friendship tower, also home to dodgy dongel dealer, several trips to get it to work and still very temperamental. Dodgy is however what it is about in that neck of the woods. People come and talk to you, not a bad thing you might think but next time tell them politely to F off. This one persuaded us that he worked for an Irish NGO, had a day off and would take us to good shops. shops ripoff and while he was chatting us up a small boy came and nicked my camera-far to close. Any way he gave chase and returned 20 mins later with camera sans case, and spare memory cards but with tough guy pretending to be (no probably actually)gangster and took 800 birr offme for returning it. 800 birr aprox 40 quid. So in summary I was mugged by an 8 year old-great! Have found micro brewery German style beer garden which was fun, but unmentionable things begining to happen in the transit times locally.
Other painful experience was driver conveniently parking next to pavement and on opening the door and stepping out-no pavement just 4 foot hole down which I descended to shoulder height. Luckily landing soft as full of rubbish though smelly, dusty and humiliating-motto look before you step,though difficult when you are climbing down from a land cruiser - no not ours - clutching computer cases and what ever. Theeek has been spent touring various government offices of varying degrees of scruffiness with long queues bobbing up and down on chairs and pedantic form checkers who seem visibly upset when they can not find anything wrong, so check again and again. Payment for a work permit 600 birr £30 involves going to one office where a receipt is written out, next door where the receipt is stammped and money taken, before going to two more offices for further stamps. Getting registered, tedious but friendly enough once the endless form checking was passed had held me up a day as i had topass muster infrony of some committeee (kafka again!) The same has to said for the British Consular office too who are both never open when you want to call, have long queues when they fleetingly are and treat you extra-ordinarily badly while signing photo copies of your driving licence at 900 birr £50 a throw, stirling or credit cards not accepted. You do not feel welcome in what should be a small part of England. at the end of the week I have a medical licence, rare it seems where we are going and awork permit. Karen however is one up having licence to stay and all the rights of an Ethiopian women but I am sure she will tell you about that. Long car journey to Gimbie now and more anon. Land cruiser import is just a matter of
enormous despair.
Other painful experience was driver conveniently parking next to pavement and on opening the door and stepping out-no pavement just 4 foot hole down which I descended to shoulder height. Luckily landing soft as full of rubbish though smelly, dusty and humiliating-motto look before you step,though difficult when you are climbing down from a land cruiser - no not ours - clutching computer cases and what ever. Theeek has been spent touring various government offices of varying degrees of scruffiness with long queues bobbing up and down on chairs and pedantic form checkers who seem visibly upset when they can not find anything wrong, so check again and again. Payment for a work permit 600 birr £30 involves going to one office where a receipt is written out, next door where the receipt is stammped and money taken, before going to two more offices for further stamps. Getting registered, tedious but friendly enough once the endless form checking was passed had held me up a day as i had topass muster infrony of some committeee (kafka again!) The same has to said for the British Consular office too who are both never open when you want to call, have long queues when they fleetingly are and treat you extra-ordinarily badly while signing photo copies of your driving licence at 900 birr £50 a throw, stirling or credit cards not accepted. You do not feel welcome in what should be a small part of England. at the end of the week I have a medical licence, rare it seems where we are going and awork permit. Karen however is one up having licence to stay and all the rights of an Ethiopian women but I am sure she will tell you about that. Long car journey to Gimbie now and more anon. Land cruiser import is just a matter of
enormous despair.
Sunday, 9 October 2011
The journey not the arrival matters
This autobiography of Leonard Wolf sums up the travails of travel. last few days in U.K stressy and with too much to do and too little time things inevitably got forgotten most spectacularly the spare set of car keys (Sophie please remember to bring them out for us!!) Splendid farewell party and then chaos of clearing house (ha ha) and packing before setting off for airport and our first taste of Ethiopian hyper bureaucracy-weighing in-which results in queues of querrulous passengers and general bad temper. Such was the chaos and also the breakdown of the duty free tills-Terminal 3 is appallingly shabby-that we failed the get Gin test so are sorely bereft.
Arrival in Addis marked by silent imigration man and being pulled by customs not for carrying unmentionables but for having a scanner and printer-needs taxing. Much protest and looking smiling and senior with assurances that they will leave the country with me allowed me through-result!
The day was spent trying to get paper work sorted, hampered by Friday prayers, a closed consular section of the Embassy-stated hours on the web site and actual hours on the printed sheet in the window are very different- suggesting that government cuts have hit here too. Now not open till Tuesday. Getting paper work is like snakes and ladders-we will invent a new board game called 'Going to Gimbie' when you start at Woking and via a trail with many mishaps you finally get there-we may even make it into a computer game that two or more can play.
Karen got her work permit in a day which must be an international record, though there was a near snake at the last throw of the dice as one government form did not have a signature but there was a copy. So she has a little green book and I don't. In order for me to get a work permit it seem that regtistration with the Food and Drugs Agency is required, but happily the paper work for this is in order bar a covering letter that needs to come from the NGO here and hopefully will appear on Monday as some approval committee meets on Wednesday so perhaps thing will happen then...well perhaps or perhaps not-stay tuned.
Had amusing lunch with old mate Gordon and got further insights into Ethiopian life together with some useful contacts which may prove useful in some of the training work we have in mind. The local obstetrician I will be working with seems very young possibly even pre-registration by our standards so look forward to interesting times. Also greeted with the news that a surgical team is flying out from Oregeon to undertake prolapse surgery-they brought a lot of equipment out on a previous trip which they hope is still there-it will either be unopened or long gone. Anyway it should prove an interesting diversion. i will be interested to hear of their adventures in Customs.
There is no doubt that we are entereing an 'Alice in Wonderland' world and I am bagging the part of the 'Mad Hatter'. Currently now having a totally inert week end but stay tuned for the further adventures of the 'Mad Hatter' (Bates hat of course).
Arrival in Addis marked by silent imigration man and being pulled by customs not for carrying unmentionables but for having a scanner and printer-needs taxing. Much protest and looking smiling and senior with assurances that they will leave the country with me allowed me through-result!
The day was spent trying to get paper work sorted, hampered by Friday prayers, a closed consular section of the Embassy-stated hours on the web site and actual hours on the printed sheet in the window are very different- suggesting that government cuts have hit here too. Now not open till Tuesday. Getting paper work is like snakes and ladders-we will invent a new board game called 'Going to Gimbie' when you start at Woking and via a trail with many mishaps you finally get there-we may even make it into a computer game that two or more can play.
Karen got her work permit in a day which must be an international record, though there was a near snake at the last throw of the dice as one government form did not have a signature but there was a copy. So she has a little green book and I don't. In order for me to get a work permit it seem that regtistration with the Food and Drugs Agency is required, but happily the paper work for this is in order bar a covering letter that needs to come from the NGO here and hopefully will appear on Monday as some approval committee meets on Wednesday so perhaps thing will happen then...well perhaps or perhaps not-stay tuned.
Had amusing lunch with old mate Gordon and got further insights into Ethiopian life together with some useful contacts which may prove useful in some of the training work we have in mind. The local obstetrician I will be working with seems very young possibly even pre-registration by our standards so look forward to interesting times. Also greeted with the news that a surgical team is flying out from Oregeon to undertake prolapse surgery-they brought a lot of equipment out on a previous trip which they hope is still there-it will either be unopened or long gone. Anyway it should prove an interesting diversion. i will be interested to hear of their adventures in Customs.
There is no doubt that we are entereing an 'Alice in Wonderland' world and I am bagging the part of the 'Mad Hatter'. Currently now having a totally inert week end but stay tuned for the further adventures of the 'Mad Hatter' (Bates hat of course).
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