Sunday, October 09, 2005
"On the way to the hospital" in the words of Billy
Chantal wore herself out trying to control the classes and started to get a sore throat. By Friday she had a mild fever in the morning but still tried to do some work in the classrooms. On Friday afternoon we received word that Fr. Mathew had been taken to the hospital. Amanzi, our watchman, tried to communicate with me that I should go to the hospital. We would have to take a Dhaladhala (mini van bus). We arranged to go after our last class at 4:00 p.m.
Chantal took her temperature again and it had risen. We now felt that regardless of Fr. Mathew we needed to go and get a Malaria test for Chantal. It turned out to be negative. It turned out that she had a mild cold and is recouperating well now.
Fr. Mathew was no longer at the hospital in Songea. They said he had been moved to Peramiho. Given the size of the "hospital" we were at, I assumed wrongly that Peramiho was the name of the bigger, "real" hospital. Wrong again. Peramiho is the name of the town where the bigger, "real" hospital is. Chantal was not feeling up to even a short trip so we escorted her back to our school residence and then Amanzi and I set out for Peramiho. I had no idea where I was going or how long I would be away.
There was a special Dhaladhala to take us to Peramiho. Amanzi communicated by scrunching his shoulders together that we would not leave until the vehicle was full. I thought he was just exagerating for effect. Wrong again. The Dhaladhala had 15 seats. When we left we had 25 people packed into the bus. If we were college students going around the block, this would have been a silly stunt. My heart sank as the sun went down and we headed further out of town.
We turned off the "good road" onto a very bumpy dirt trench. I can't imagine anyone seriously injured surviving. Thank God it only went for about 10 minutes.
We got to see Fr. Mathew for about 5 minutes. They were surprised to see us and asked "Why did you come?". I pointed at Amanzi and shrugged my shoulders. The ride back was even more packed and I was standing. Suddenly there was some shifting, the back row of the van now had 5 people (4 sitting, 1 standing) and I was offered a seat. I was not allowed to refuse. Amanzi communicated that they were going to sing. I said, "Do you mean like, '99 bottles of beer on the wall?' ", and I started to sing it. He motioned me to wait.
As soon as we were back on the main road, the singing started. It was wonderful with different people taking the lead and the rest responding in complicated rythmic chorus. I tried to sing along which resulted in hoots of laughter. I introduced myself as Billy to one lady. She immediately started to laugh since my name sounds very much like "mbili" in KiSwahili. It is the equivalent of saying, "Hello, my name is Two. How do you do.?"
After a number songs the bus went quiet. I started to wonder if they were going to ask me to sing. I decided that I would try "Oh, When the Saints Go Marching in" since it had a nice echo part. At the last minute, I had my own private joke going as I started to sing, "Flintstones, meet the Flintstones". They laugh although I doubt any of them had seen the movie, "Planes, Trains and Automobiles".
Chantal took her temperature again and it had risen. We now felt that regardless of Fr. Mathew we needed to go and get a Malaria test for Chantal. It turned out to be negative. It turned out that she had a mild cold and is recouperating well now.
Fr. Mathew was no longer at the hospital in Songea. They said he had been moved to Peramiho. Given the size of the "hospital" we were at, I assumed wrongly that Peramiho was the name of the bigger, "real" hospital. Wrong again. Peramiho is the name of the town where the bigger, "real" hospital is. Chantal was not feeling up to even a short trip so we escorted her back to our school residence and then Amanzi and I set out for Peramiho. I had no idea where I was going or how long I would be away.
There was a special Dhaladhala to take us to Peramiho. Amanzi communicated by scrunching his shoulders together that we would not leave until the vehicle was full. I thought he was just exagerating for effect. Wrong again. The Dhaladhala had 15 seats. When we left we had 25 people packed into the bus. If we were college students going around the block, this would have been a silly stunt. My heart sank as the sun went down and we headed further out of town.
We turned off the "good road" onto a very bumpy dirt trench. I can't imagine anyone seriously injured surviving. Thank God it only went for about 10 minutes.
We got to see Fr. Mathew for about 5 minutes. They were surprised to see us and asked "Why did you come?". I pointed at Amanzi and shrugged my shoulders. The ride back was even more packed and I was standing. Suddenly there was some shifting, the back row of the van now had 5 people (4 sitting, 1 standing) and I was offered a seat. I was not allowed to refuse. Amanzi communicated that they were going to sing. I said, "Do you mean like, '99 bottles of beer on the wall?' ", and I started to sing it. He motioned me to wait.
As soon as we were back on the main road, the singing started. It was wonderful with different people taking the lead and the rest responding in complicated rythmic chorus. I tried to sing along which resulted in hoots of laughter. I introduced myself as Billy to one lady. She immediately started to laugh since my name sounds very much like "mbili" in KiSwahili. It is the equivalent of saying, "Hello, my name is Two. How do you do.?"
After a number songs the bus went quiet. I started to wonder if they were going to ask me to sing. I decided that I would try "Oh, When the Saints Go Marching in" since it had a nice echo part. At the last minute, I had my own private joke going as I started to sing, "Flintstones, meet the Flintstones". They laugh although I doubt any of them had seen the movie, "Planes, Trains and Automobiles".
# posted by Chantal @ 2:32 a.m. 
