And now, something completely different!!

Well, Chapter 1 and 2 (my two different overland trips) were now over. It was time for Chapter 3. I must say, that my expectations of this healthcare volunteer experience were a little hazy. Not much info is given about exactly what you are going to see and do. Part of this was also impacted by the fact that I had talked to one of my buddies at work right before heading out, and she told me she had also volunteered outside of Capetown at a hospital. Wow, I thought, "what place?". She then told me the name was Rondelbosch or something like that. I thought, hey, I think that's my place because I remember that it started with an R. She then went on to say how modern it was, state of the art. She actually worked in their ICU and was so impressed with what they had. This certainly was a little different then I was expecting. I thought maybe it might be a small clinic or something, but then again, maybe I will have an opportunity to work at a clinic while I was there. Well, let's just say, it was not the same place. It turns out that my place was in Rocklands a neighborhood in an area called Mitchells Plains. During Apartheid, sometime in mid 20th century, huge numbers of nonwhites were essentially kicked out of Capetown proper and redistributed in an area called Capetown flats where Mitchells Plains is located. Most of them were housed in shanty towns, shacks made of plywood and other stuff, literally on top of one another. Many of these still remain, but others were small houses crammed together with the poorest of the poor. This was my neighborhood. It wasn't exactly the slums, in fact it was relatively clean, but everyone had a gate, and every window had bars on it. And I was expressly forbidden/warned by my host family to not walk around without one of them, knowing that as a "whitey", obviously not from this "hood", that I would be a definite victim. My host family was amazing. "Auntie" Pearl is a 60year old widow who is a saint. All of them were very religious and Andrew, her son in law, had become a born again Christian just months before. He picked me up from the airport with his 2 year old son Isiah. I was originally supposed to be picked up by Marina, the coordinator, but instead was met by this man who was about my height but at least twice my size. He is though, at least now, a gentle giant. Most of the trip from the airport involved him telling me his story. About 36 years old, he grew up in a city known for extensive gang activity and many many casualties from such activity. He himself was one of the leaders in a gang coincidentally known as the Americans, one of the most well known gangs in all of South Africa. He went on to say that America is respected and worshipped for it's gang life. They emulate rappers and gangsters from America (to be so proud!!). He also told stories of his life, the women, the drugs, the drinking, the killings and I listened in shocked disbelief. This was my host family. "Holy shit!!!" But what contrast to the man he has become, he left all of that behind years ago, but continued most of the excessive drinking until finding God. Now he has become an instrument of Christ and has dedicated his life to spreading the word. Just amazing stuff. His wife Sanchiline is incredible. She has the patience of Job, works like a madwoman (currently supporting the family. Unemployment is rampant in South Africa) and also takes care of her son and teenage daughter with the help of Andrew and Pearl. Kaylin is her 15year old daughter from another father, who is a witty, quick talking and fun teenager. Quick to give me crap, teach me a card game and then in good teenage style, beat me severely at the game and let me know it. She's a good sister to her younger brother, Isiah. This kid is amazing. He smiles and laughs like no other, he's mesmerized by tv (stopped in his tracks anytime he walks by) and is into anything that anybody else is doing. He also is somewhat of a nudist, and is quick to shed clothes at a moments notice. I loved that kid and look forward to see what he becomes. Much of my time there entailed meeting the friends and family of these guys and I cherish those moments the most. I really got to know a lot about the culture through those many special interactions. All of them were incredibly wonderful people. I even got to drink boxed wine with some of his old drinking buddies in a small shack in what Andrew referred to as "the slums". As we drank away, they told me that if I were to walk one block down, there was a good chance I would come upon some meth heads who would at the very least rob me, and possibly even kill me if I were alone. Refreshing thoughts. With them, they said, I was safe, nobody would dare mess with me while I hung out with them. Strangely enough I treasured those moments. Scared, yet exhilarated. Admittedly, having Andrew, a man twice my size (at least) who had been a major gang member, at my side, was always reassuring. I also went to a braii which is essentially a South African bbq with in this case large sausages (the name I forget) over a small grill. I then listened as they played guitar and sang songs. That was the second night I was there. This was amazing. Now no discussion of South Africa would be complete without the discussion of race. It is everything here. It started hundreds of years ago with the Dutch coming in, progressed with the Boers who were essentially offshoots of that but mostly farmers and culminated with the establishment of apartheid. Now, this is a country of lots of white immigrants from hundreds of years ago, former slaves that are a mix of europeans/indians/arabs who are mixed in with the native "blacks". When I say mixed, I mean, their has been a lot of offspring from these combinations. So essentially during apartheid people were classified into whites, blacks who are what one would think of as Africans, and the coloureds who are the mix of those other groups, and then there are also the pure immigrants who are classified as Asians that includes Indians. Confused yet. I am. Now the strange thing to me as an American is that many of the coloured group would in fact in America be categorized as black, but it's more than just a color thing, it's a cultural thing. Most of the blacks speak the native african dialects, where as the coloureds favor Afrikaans which is a language essentially created by the early immigrants and is a combination of Dutch, German, English, etc. Most coloureds also speak English but favor the Afrikaans, most blacks speak their own dialects but also speak English and most whities speak both but favor Afrikaans, and all of this changes depending on what part of the country you are in. Now I know you are confused. So the bottom line is, South Africa in many ways is a messed up country because you have all of these languages and cultures, etc and to top it off, you had a bunch of idiot whities that decided years ago to separate everybody and treat them like crap and then try to rule the country even though they were a huge minority. Recipe for disaster. Now fast forward to Mandela, who comes out of prison and now ends Apartheid with lots of help and now everything is switched all around, but now all the blacks are in power and a reverse discrimination has occured where most of the jobs now go to them, and now, and this is a slanted version, because I lived the coloured experience, the coloured who were once second class citizens to the "whiteys" are now second class citizens to the blacks. The tension in this country is incredible. Each day there is a battle to keep order. It's a tenuous situation, which is far better than the time of Mandela's election, but things are brewing and there is definite fear and trepidation within this country. Not to mention, I have never seen so much barbed wire, gates, electric fences in my life. Everything here revolves around protecting those things that you have. All the cars have code keys to start the engine, stereos which are removed, not just faceplates but the whole stereo. Forgetting to lock your car is a present to the thieves. Now I have seen one side of the country, and my guess is that there exists many wonderful places here, safe and secure, but that is indeed a minority. I hope for the best for this country, but they have far to go, but then again, looking back, they have also come a far way. Gone are the days of carrying id cards with your vital info including your race status, but the distrust is still ingrained. Ok, that just lets you know a little of the situation that exists here. My volunteer position was at Mitchells Plain Community Hospital which is essentially a day hospital monday to friday 8-4 unless there is an extreme emergency which stays open 24hours a day. It also has clinics for babies/children and mothers. Another clinic focused on diabetics and hypertensive patients and another clinic called the ARV (antiretroviral) clinic which deals with HIV patients in the area. The 24 hr area would be called our emergency room, but is referred to as Trauma which is actually a great name for it. The hospital is only one level, but receives an amazing amount of patients that are all low or no income patients. These are the poorest of the poor. My first introduction as I passed through the walled in/barbed wired complex was to get frisked by the security guard. Everybody must be checked for weapons, and this was a daily drill as was the searching of cars for bombs as they entered the gate. I then was introduced to many of the "sisters", the designation for nurses here in South Africa. They all were epaulets on their shoulders which indicate which areas of training they have completed, for example, "general", "psych", "trauma", etc. I would say that all of them seem very well trained and I was impressed by their abilities. My first day involved working in the ARV Clinic (HIV) shadowing the counselers who are kind of like social workers, but not quite. They see all the HIV patients on a regular basis, depending on their point of treatment and counsel them on how to take the medicines, side effects of drugs and the disease and helping them with home issues like money, alcohol, abuse, drugs, etc. There is a huge HIV population in South Africa, the highest percentage in the world, and there is a huge focus on testing, prevention and treatment, because of that. It took many years to get to this point but they are really trying to get a hold of the disease. I don't want to get too much into details of the program because it would take forever. I am however left with the overwhelming feeling of how big a problem this is and how it affects the country. I continued my experience working with the physicians who were all excellent, the head of the clinic actually is from Nigeria, and was truly amazing and funny too. One of my days also involved going to a few of the clubs and dropping off boxes of condoms (6,000 condoms each) which are given out free to customers. They were a little surprised when I told them that we pay for such things. Oh, another hilarious thing I read in the informational booklets about HIV was that as they described the types of people that can have HIV, they said that "even Homosexuals" are known to contract HIV. Suffice to say, it is hugely the heterosexual population that carries the disease here, and not vice versa. After more than a week in the ARV clinic, I spent my last few days in the Trauma unit. Now this place is busy. They are severely understaffed and have very little room for the patients that come in. It's essentially 3 beds with the triaging occuring in the same room. Meanwhile, with all this overcrowding, you have lots of people coughing, coming in with measles (now an evolving problem) and TB. Infection control is . . . well, interesting. You have a sink, that sometimes has soap, but rarely has paper towels. Alcohol rub is relatively non existent. Gloves are present but rarely used, especially with IV insertion. I also assisted in putting a couple of urinary catheters which involved cleansing with normal saline and that's all and using regular gloves. In America, everything is sterile smeared with lots of iodine. Wow!! What a trip. The first day was not too bad, the next involved showing up at 8am with them inserting a chest tube into a 30 ish old woman who had a collapsed lung secondary to TB. Not sure if I mentionned it, but I saw more TB in 1 day than in 12 years of nursing. All total, I saw probably about 100 people who either had had TB in the past, just contracted TB or were on their 3rd of 4th bout of TB. And they have a lot of the multi drug resistant TB here. THat being said, my time in Trauma involved wearing a mask the whole time, because the doctors, thankfully, did not want me to bring some weird strain of TB back to America to infect the masses. The days commonly involved the presence of police who brought patient/prisoners in with stab wounds or minor/major lacerations. There was a lot of suturing going on. My last day involved coming in with the doctors treating a major head wound, meaning much of the back of the head was missing, secondary to a fall or some other tragedy. The patient was unresponsive, but ironically had great vital signs. That place was indeed crazy, and they stated this was actually minor compared to Friday and Saturday nights when the place fills with gunshot and stab wounds. All I got to say is I definitely received an amazing experience filled with all the complexities that South Africa has to offer. Next stop, my safari volunteer experience. Later

Malaria Free, thank goodness.

Well, I had a slight break since I last wrote. The last post was abruptly stopped because I was feeling like crap. After 4 days in bed, one emergency room visit and refreshing lab results, I am feeling on top of my game again. After feeling flu symptoms for over 24hrs, I heeded the warning of every guidebook/medical journal and made a visit to the local emergency room. This is becoming a bad trend for me, because in Spain, I also made a visit to the emergency room, for what turned out to be hives secondary to bedbugs. One shot in the butt and a prescription for antihistamines and I was out into the real world. THis time it was purely out of the slight possibility that it could be malaria. May have already mentionned this, but essentially if you are in a malaria area and have any flulike symptoms for up to a year afterwards, it's time to get your butt into a doctor immediately for a check of malaria, because it progresses very quickly and without much forgiveness if you don't start treatment. THings like death are not uncommon. So like a good nurse, I put it off for over a day, hoping that it would get better. The ironic thing is, since it was a holiday weekend (easter), the "immediate" test took over 6 hours to get the results, so I went home and prayed that I would survive the night. I did and everything was negative. I then spent a total of 4 days watching South African soap operas (Isindore is my favorite for those who need to know) and a whole lot of bad commercials. I also have watched a ton of football (soccer) and am very enthusiastic about the coming of the World Cup. Ok, let me quickly return to the other part of the trip. I will fastforward a little to the 2nd to the last day of the tour which involved a ton of driving and a marathon game of "Shithead" which is a cardgame played by the aussies and brits. Very entertaining and too involved to describe right now, but after many rounds, I essentially was crowned King Shithead which as you can imagine is not a good thing. Apart from the constant taunts of "shithead" this, "shithead" that, I unfortunately gained this title on an eventful day. First of all, this campsite was a known stomping ground for my travel company so they had stored many props here which entailed rather radical feminine attire which I had to adorn myself with after dinner. Secondly, I was to take a shot which was either a "death" shot or "suicide" shot which after already having 2 glasses of wine didn't sound too bad. What's one shot, I said. I can do one shot of anything. Well, as they led me to the bar and I put on my "evening" wear (a nice ensemble of shiny pants, flowery shirts, a scarf and a pair of underwear on my head), I placed the ceremonial hard hat onto my head. Hmmm, so much ceremony for a little bitty shot. Well, that shot, was first of all in a pint glass and was a mixture of (I would find out after taking it) 8 shots of various alcohols (their shots are about 1/2 of American shots), various sauces like hot sauce, salsa, chutney and then topped off with a beer. Looking at it and smelling it was a challenge in itself, but drinking it, which in true American pride I did in one fail swoop, was indeed a challenge. Not only finishing it, but actually keeping it down which proudly I did and to the roar of the crowd. After finding out it's contents, I prepared myself for the worse and imagined an early trip to the tent. Meanwhile, with all the spirit that the entire trip represented, each of my cohorts dressed up in wacky attire, many of the men being the most enthusiastic, changing outfits several times throughout the night. We then all proceeded to drink more than humanly possible, and after determining that I was indeed not going to die, I joined in with more shots, and several beer bongs (ah!!!!, memories of college). My good buddy Patrick who is not a drinker proceed to do a double orange fanta bong, which is actually tougher than it looks, and many of the onlookers were sprayed with the orange goodness of Fanta. Not only did I not have an early night, I lasted til after 4 and then had to make it back to my tent without my headlamp which I had loaned to someone, and then proceed to pass out in all my clothes, only to be woken up at 7am by many of my compatriots. What a night!!!!! We then hopped in the truck and continued on to Capetown and beyond to the Cape of Good Hope, the most southern point in Africa where both the Indian and Atlantic Oceans meet in a clash of fury. It's truly beautiful and I always feel more alive when being present at such a monumental point in the world. I was truly on the other side of the world. We camped just a few miles away at a "campers only" site. At first it was difficult to determine why there was this designation, but soon after putting up our tents, we discovered why. Gale force winds punished our tents and we utilized the truck to be able to actually cook under such conditions. After moving several of the tents, we buckled down for the night. I actually decided to stay where I was. My survival mechanism, a sleeping tablet and ear plugs. Luckily both my tent and I, were there in the morning. After some logistics involving a complete scrub down of the truck we made our way to Capetown which in my opinion is the San Francisco of South Africa. They have weather quite similar to ours, fog included. It's truly a beautiful city, ecletic, colorful and positionned right on the water. And unlike some areas of South Africa is relatively safe. THat night we gathered together for one last feast and a helluva party. Many of us donned the color beige in honor of my wardrobe which these folks think I wear all the time at home. We had some tapas and then proceeded to go to a local club, pound many drinks, dance up a storm and rehash stories of what can only be described as an amazing adventure for all of us. We had spent 24hrs a day with each other for weeks, trading life stories, setting up tents, cooking meals, drinking beer, seeing the most incredible things, even surviving a brawl. It has been more than anything I could imagine, and these people shared it all with me. I will never forget them and hope to always know at least some of them. I know that life goes on, people move onto other things, families are formed, relationships change, but this was definitely something I will always cherish. Thanks for sharing the ride.

Namibia continued.

Thought that it was getting a little long so I continued on a new post. After Swakopmund, we continued down Namibia to Sesriem which is an area of hundreds of large dunes. We took a walk with a local guide who talked to us about how these particular dunes are not always changing like most dunes because of the plants that act as an anchor, and the way the winds usually only blow a certain way in one season and back the other way, so that only the tops actually shift a little one way or another.

Nambia and beyond

If you look at the date, it certainly has been a little while since my last post. Mostly due to lack of internet access. Currently with my volunteer family and I am a few miles away from any internet action. I will now do the best I can to catch everyone up. Feeling a little under the weather right now, but am hoping it's just a little virus, instead of malaria. I will keep you posted. Boy, that's a crappy thing to write isn't it. Now I've got everybody a little worried. I'll be fine, and if all else fails, it will be an experience. Didn't realize how far behind I was on the posts. Hanging out with the bushman was an amazing experience. Essentially the people do actually live in more "modern" homes, though out here, that's not saying much, but for this cultural experience, they in fact dress in there traditional garb, which involves a leather loin cloth and that's about it. We were taken to the traditional village which involved straw huts and the medicine man took us around the area to show us how they once and occasionally still do, utilize the plants for medicinal reasons, water, food, and trapping small animals. The lead guy spoke only the local language of Xhosa, which is pronounced more like cosa, with various clicking sounds of the tongue and palate to form words. He was actually quite funny and entertaining and provided lots of information about the culture. After that, we headed to Etosha Safari park. Now as you can tell, I have seen quite a few animals already and it takes a lot to entertain my interests, but a few things stood out in this venture. One, we saw a lion quite close up that was either suffering from dehydration or had been hit, because it swayed back and forth for about 50 feet until it just plopped down and remained panting. Our leader called the headquarters to report this so hopefully it got some kind of help, but it was indeed strange to see such an incredibly strong animal in such a debilitated state. We also saw a black Rhino about 75feet away or so, which is always a treat since they are so rare. The park also had another feature which I hadn't seen which are watering holes that are adjacent to the park, but which shine lights at nighttime so you can sit there and watch animals that might show up. Although it was impossible for me to capture the animals, I did see some jackals, antelope, an owl and a few other things that I don't know what they were. Earlier on in the day, although I didn't witness it, there was an elephant. After Etosha, we proceeded into the heart of the desert to Spitzkoffe, which is essentially a series of large rock hills/mountains made out of reddish granite. It reminded me a bit of Joshua tree meets Arches National Park, because right next to our campsite which was along side some huge rocks (and I do mean huge), there was actually a rock arch. You will also begin to notice that with Namibia being a German colony, the names reflect this, as does the sense of order of many of the towns and cities. As far as Spitkoffe, there was no city, town or even running water for that matter. Most of our time there involved taking amazing sunset/sunrise photos and hiking up incredibly difficult mountains where I managed to acquire a variety of scrapes and cuts from rocks and cacti. It was challenging and felt good after one spends most of the time on the truck, your muscles feel like there is some atrophying going on, meanwhile, the gut is growing from all the food and beer. After a couple nights there, we then moved out to the coast, which still resembled a vast wasteland but was interspersed with desalinization plants, which I would guess provided a lion's share of their water supplies. Luckily for Namibia, one of their greatest resources are huge diamond mines in the southern part of the country which is strictly off limits to anyone (big surprise). Our first stop on the coast was Cape Cross where there is the largest seal colony I have ever seen and probably one of the most smelly things I have ever encountered. I think the fact that I am a nurse, that might lend a lot of credibility to that statement. It was an amazing sight, but one can only tolerate it for a short period of time, before survival becomes tenuous. I think it may have taken a half hour before the smell dissipated from my olfactory ducts. As we moved down the coast we began to see a series of small beach enclaves, which looked quite odd, because there would be nothing and then a string of brightly colored small stone homes which were of course very ordered. Our next stop would be the incredibly entertaining Swakopmund, known as the Livingstone of Nambia, referring to the amount of opportunities to risk your life (remember my bungee jump/ultralight, etc.). That afternoon, a handful of us decided to do some quadbiking which is an ATV over the sand dunes. This was an awesome and much scarier experience than I expected. First of all, it's quite different driving than a motorcycle, which I have a couple of years experience with, and secondly, you are driving on sand which is a challenge. I was certainly the grandpa of the group and was found usually at the back, sometimes going around in circles down some dunes (and not on purpose), but it still was incredible fun as we scaled the sides of dunes about 30 feet in the air and curved downward. It is quite a rush and being out on the dunes was just amazing. I managed to scrape my leg up nicely because at times because I was used to a motorcycle, I was putting my foot down for stability. A very bad idea. After that excitement, we all returned back and cleansed our self after not having access to a shower for a few days and headed out on the town to a nice restaurant right on the coast. I gorged myself on an incredibly large seafood platter to the amazement of all and then washed it down with 2- 1 liter mugs of beer. Got to love the Germans. Our next venue provided more excitement than many of the other adventures. Many of us proceeded to a bar and after many shots, beers and dancing, proceeded to have a small brawl with some rather large South African construction/engineer types. They were complete idiots and were trying to take advantage of a few of our beautiful travelers and then accusing us of stealing her camera. Next thing we knew, there were fists being thrown, even I got a fist to the nose which I had forgot about until I woke up with a rather sore nose and blowing blood out of my nose the next morning. Everything happened rather quickly and the bouncers temporarily held the offenders until one of them got through the ranks and sucker punched one of our friends who was just standing there. Our friend then hit his head either on the wall or the floor and essentially received a concussion. Another friend got headbutted on the forehead and had blood dripping from his forehead. To speed this up a bit, I essentially had to utilize a little of my nursing knowledge in a rather drunken state and at one point even gave my friend several sternal rubs to try to wake him up. He had some souvenir pain two days later. We got our now unresponsive friend into an ambulance, to a hospital, where he slowly woke up and then proceeded to regain full consciousness, though his memory of the event is completely absent. It was an interesting experience on so many levels, but one that doesn't need to be repeated. After a few hours of rest, I then headed out to do some sandboarding which is essentially "sandsledding" on a thin plywood board down some rather steep sand dunes, equipped with helmets and elbow pads. It certainly was scary, when you first went down the hill but soon it became comfortable as you got used to the speed. On the steepest one, I was clocked in at about 70km/hr which is 42 miles per hour, and then hit a little bump at the end that caused you to fly a few feet. It was good fun.