The Dutch Oven

Once again this is my second attempt to publish this post. The first attempt was a waste of two hours on the Ethiopian internet. Let's seeif I can remember what I was trying to write about...
On Sunday I went to lunch at the home of Diny, a Dutch nurse who lives and works in Addis. She was the woman I contacted to get the go-ahead for my trip from the sisters at the compound. Every few weeks she has these gatherings for volunteers but the occasion this time was the upcoming departure of one of her friends and a fellow Mother Teresa-er. The crowd was an eclectic mix, to say the least. There was one truly free red-blooded American (guess who), three Canadians, a Brit, two Ghanaians, one Nigerian, three Koreans, a German, three Dutch, and three Ethiopians. We ate Korean noodles, kim chee, some kind of Dutch meatballs, lentils, rice, green beans, some kind of apple pie with banana custard, fruit, yogurt, and cake. The food was delicious and the conversation draining. It reminded me of the scene in Hung where Rick's pimp goes to her mother's house and runs into all of her highly educated international friends. My end of the backyard was dominated by the conversation between the Ghanaians and a young Canadian woman, Jenna, regarding the plight of... anyone in the world with a plight... American economy, Ghanaian off-shore oil drilling, Ethiopian street children, etc. etc. All important issues, I'm sure, but none of them got a rise out of me like the way Jenna kept prefacing all of her good samaritan opinions with "I think." "I think people really need to reprioritize if we are to help the street children in Addis" or something. If that even qualifies as an opinion, as opposed to fact, saying "I think" only serves to claim some sort of propriety over that opinion, or perhaps suggest that maybe other people present don't think the same thing. Wow... you think that... I wish I could think that. I think if you talk like that you're likely to get Blah Blah Blogged about. I suppose that's how conversations between strangers always progress... some sort of obvious statement received by raised eyebrows and a nod and an acknowledgment of the idea in different words, and repeat. What a waste of time. I also talked to a man who works for the International Livestock Research Institute (the company that owns the highly secure property that Diny lives on) and lives on what I understand to be the Canadian San Juan Islands. He taught me that everyone who talks about the inefficiencies of eating beef are uneducated liars. Despite my cynicism, I enjoyed the company and the soiree as a whole, and this week I've had lunch or coffee with Jenna's English boyfriend, Damien, three times (the pleasant parts just aren't as fun to read or write about).

COMPOUND UPDATE

Seeing as how the compound is essentially for people on their death beds I've been wondering how frequently residents pass away. Today I learned that this morning three or four of them died. Apparently a high percentage of patient deaths are from malaria, contracted in rural areas before arrival at the clinic. Also today I followed around the other Abebe, a "nurse's assistant" (titles here don't necessarily reflect any formal training) who dresses wounds for bed-ridden patients. His job stinks. Like death. Many of his patients suffer from cancers of some kind and almost all have bed sores. One man with a catheter has bed sores from his waist to his ankles and needs his dressings changed every day. I admire Abebe's dedication to his job and I will hopefully assist him regularly from here on out. In the dispensary there has been a wave of patients with problems that require dropping trou... Three in a row yesterday and two today after having none in my first week. The most painful of them was clearly the rectal absess, which made the man wail and cry just from climbing onto the bed. I'll spare you the details of the more disgusting ones. Another patient I won't forget anytime soon is the woman whose right breast had been (intentionally) burned by a fire to the point of melting her nipple clean off. Tuesday was my second outpatient dressing day and was busier than the first. Most of the patients we had seen before, which is good, but clearly don't/can't do much to take care of their wounds between visits. I was relying on emotional reward for the sake of my endurance here, but there really isn't much when you scrub and wrap hard, open flesh from knee to ankle of a man who can't feel what you're doing. The wounds are obviously just symptoms of much bigger problems faced by the poor here and rarely show improvement. Unfortunately the alternative is a patient who can feel his wounds but won't receive painkillers or antibiotics. I would like to say I'm having a good time here, but"fun" is an inaccurate description. It has already been one of my more interesting experiences, though, and I'm sure will be invaluable in the future. Volunteers have come and gone, 80% of them Spanish and all of them significantly older than me. Consequently, I am doing a lot of reading.

A CALL TO ARMS

This is directed to the (large) portion of my readership who have steady jobs and are financially comfortable. I have been spending more time with Dr. Rick who, probably because I am American, has started to take me under his wing. He does some amazing work here and is famous for it in Addis. Sadly, many patients come after other doctors have turned them away, often times because they have some incurable and fatal condition. However, Rick's program has been able to send many spine and cardiac patients abroad for life-saving surgery. People leave for Ghana or India with S-shaped spines and $1000 later return straight as an arrow (fashioned by an amateur whittler, but an arrow nonetheless). Without surgery, the spines deformed by scoliosis or tuberculosis become worse and gradually reduce lung capacity, a fatal process. Rick's biggest fault seems to be his inexperience with fundraising... or maybe it's just the impossibility of sending all 300 spine patients abroad. He arranges these procedures, which would cost 20 times as much in theUS, whenever possible but relies on small, private donations. If you feel like passing on the newest generation MacBook and keeping your old, outdated, 2008 model instead, you can save the life of a stranger by donating to Dr. Rick's cause at https://jdc.org/donation/donate.aspx . The entire donation will go to Rick, so be sure to add a note withyour donation including the name "Dr. Rick Hodes." You can watch avideo interview with Rick at www.cbc.ca/sunday/2009/05/051709_6.html . If you can't donate or don't feel comfortable doing so, please consider passing the information on to your affluent colleagues (City of Bellevue).

A BERG'S EYE VIEW, THE RETURN

- Ethiopian men of all ages love to hold hands or link arms. ClearlyR-71 passed here.
- There are enormous holes all over the sidewalk, big enough for me to hide unconscious in after falling in one after the sun goes down.
- There are no street lights.
- People urinate without discretion in the street, but typically aim for the aforementioned holes.
- Regardless of severity of illness, sick people invariable walk around with a blanket or hood on their heads, flanked by two friends or family members who act as crutches. It's really an excellent idea. I know not to walk up to and stick my tongue in the mouth of any such person like I do with the healthy people here. I don't want to catch a cold.
- If you show an Ethiopian person a picture of him or herself, the response will not be "me," but rather the person's name.
- Masses of goats and cattle are regularly herded through the streets.
- The days are hot but the nights are cold... nothing three flea infested US Military-issue wool blankets can't take care of.
- I came to Africa and didn't bring sunscreen. I suppose that's more of a mistake than an observation...
- They don't have contact lenses in Ethiopia... thus no contact solution... thus only glasses for eight weeks... thus constantly being mistaken for a doctor... thus being asked questions I can't answer.
- For a few days I thought Ethiopians kept gasping at what I was saying, as if shocked, until I learned that the Amharic equivalent of"uh-huh" is an audible inhalation.
- Orange soda is orange soda no matter where you go. And it is delicious.
- There was a guy on my plane who lives at the compound. He was sent to the US by Dr. Rick for some sort of facial surgery.
- The minibuses all have Nike stickers... I think it makes them go faster.

- Internet here is totally reliable, until you click "publish post" onyour blog.