Wednesday, June 12, 2013

June 10: Interviews


This morning was really rough to say the least.  Today, my group had appointments to interview nurses and patients in the orthopedic ward at KCMC.  Right before we walked into the hospital, Masuma told us: “Take your last breath of fresh air”.  In America, you would never have to worry about the air you breathe in a hospital, but here is a different story.  Buckets of urine lined the walls, and the further we walked into the non-air-conditioned hospital, the worse it smelled.  We walked down a couple halls, up some ramps and stairs, and arrived at the orthopedic ward.  Before anyone knew what we were there for, we were free to walk down the hallway, inches away from injured patients (another thing that would never happen in America).  The patients were laying on “beds” in the hallway.  Really, they were just uncomfortable-looking stretchers with a few sheets to keep the patients warm—some were given pillows, others were not.  In the hospital rooms, there are at least 4-6 beds in each room, 2 feet apart from each other, give or take a few inches.  No dividers separated the beds.  In America, there are maybe 2 beds tops, with privacy curtains in between.  This place would never meet the safety standards back at home, and it is one of 4 hospitals in all of Tanzania. 

When we finally reached the main desk, we learned that there was a miscommunication and the nurses were not ready to be interviewed.  While we waited, we sat down in the “patient waiting room”—5 chairs, just outside of the ward.  One guy in his early 20s was sitting next to us.  We also need to interview victims family members, so we decided to take a chance and see if he was waiting for someone being treated.  Me: “Jambo!”  Him: “Jambo.”  Me: “Unasema Kiingereza?” (do you speak English?)  Him: “Yes. How are you?”  Yes!  He speaks English!  We talked for a while and learned that he was not a family member, but a patient himself.  Not what we were looking for, but that’s okay.  Talking to him helped kill the time.  He had hurt himself over a year ago playing soccer, and was just now getting surgery!  Along with most other patients, he was currently frustrated by his long waiting time (Adrienne’s case study!) 

After about a 30-minute wait, we were still unable to interview a nurse, but were directed toward a number of motorcycle accident victims.  The first victim was a farmer named Paul, 28-years-old.  Masuma conducted the interview in Kiswahili.  He was admitted to the hospital yesterday, and from what we could see before talking to him, he had injured his head.  Layers of gauze, absorbing a copious amount of blood, were taped to the right side of his face and forehead.  It was so difficult to look at him; he looked as though he were in a lot of pain, which in turn pained me.  He was admitted to the hospital yesterday after a car hit him from behind (at least that’s what he thinks happened, but he doesn’t remember exactly).  Halfway through the interview, a nurse came over to check on him.  She lifted up his bed sheets and that’s when I saw that he had not only injured his head—but he had also lost a leg. His right leg was wrapped at the knee—the wrap covered in blood, the lower half of his leg missing.  Yesterday he was fine, and now this poor guy’s life is changed.  People here can’t afford prosthetic legs.  It was awful to see.  I started crying, Ume followed, and we both had to turn away.  He had borrowed his friends motorcycle, wasn’t wearing a helmet, and now here he is.  Considering he wasn’t wearing a helmet, it could have been a lot worse… so at least he is still alive.  We cut the interview short because we didn’t want to ask any questions that could upset him further.  Later on, Masuma interviewed his uncle who cried during it.

Other than Paul, we interviewed three victims.  No one’s injuries were as bad as Paul’s, thank god.  We went back to the classroom to compile our interviews together and have tea time, then Masuma and Chana went back to the hospital for more interviews.  Ume and I decided that we weren’t going to go back to the hospital today or tomorrow because it was clearly too much for us to handle.  We finished our background section by 4pm, and soon after turning it in, Ume and I went to the basketball courts. 

When I finished running my sprints, a group of guys arrived at a nearby grassy area kicking a soccer ball.  Ume asked them if they were on a team, and they said they were.  Then she told them that I played soccer and they asked me to show them.  I was really shy and didn’t want to but Ume made me.  They weren’t just warming up and juggling, so I juggled with them for a little.  They were preparing for a game they have coming up, so I couldn’t actually play with them.  It was fun though, and felt good to kick a ball—I haven’t touched one since the Philippines!  Ume and I walked to her house, picking up bananas along the way, and we did insanity with some of the other girls. 

After insanity, I walked home alone (it’s only about a 2-minute walk and it was still light outside!) When I was walking up the pathway, all the kids came running to me and greeted me with hugs and smiles.  Then, they opened up my black grocery bag and stole all my bananas, haha.  I didn’t mind—they were only 1000tzs, and at least they were getting some fruit in their systems! 

Mesha came over to hangout for a little bit and eat.  For dinner, mama served fish and chips (like in America), watermelon, and veggies.  I thought it was really good!  After being in the Philippines and being here, I am starting to like the taste of fish more and more.  We were joking around with Mesha because he uses the word “cool” a lot (as do a lot of Tanzanians).  They use it differently than we do, though.  For example, if I ask him how he is doing he’ll respond, “I’m cool.”  If I ask how his day was… “It was really cool.”  I said I liked watermelon, and he said, “Me too. I think it’s really cool.”  Basically, “cool” here is synonymous for “nice” or “good”.  I didn’t give the best examples, but the point is they use it differently here.  Same with the word “cute”.  For example, Adrienne wrote a section of her case study and after reading it, a member in her group said, “That’s really cute.”  A research paper being cute? Hmm…

Mesha left a little bit after dinner, and I plan on reading until I go to sleep.  Tomorrow, my group has interviews at KCMC’s surgical ward, and Ume and I are going to work on writing the “policy issues” section of our case study.  

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