A soggy post from Africa!

The rainy season may well have arrived! Having been lulled into a false sense of security with blisteringly hot temperatures (resulting in some mighty attractive teva sandal demarcations on the feet) we have been treated to thunderstorms and rain for the past few days. Good for the crops but less satisfying to be visiting in. When it rains here - it rains. Roads flood and become even more chewed up and bumpy than one could conceive which makes for unhappy bottoms when riding in the daladalas! We hit a record the other day; 18 people in an 8 seater vehicle; 2 men in the boot but no goats as yet…. I’ll keep you posted!

Visiting has been a real eye opener this week. In fact my eyes were somewhat bulging when confronted with the realisation that at present the only palliative care drug we have available to use in the community is paracetamol! Grace and I are on the case to resolve this…..  ASAP! There is money in the budget and we have drawn up an essential list of basic palliative care drugs that we feel should be available here. (A sad little list when I think about the drugs and complexity of palliative care available in the Western world.) Death seems also to be a tricky concept for some to embrace and holistic care dominated by spiritual care which is centred heavily around religion only. History taking and assessment require fine tuning with a rather large spanner. Getting to people is also logistically challenging – 3 on a motorbike not ideal but a necessity if we are to reach people at present. There is work to be done! It seems that every day we uncover some new hurdle or other – to be ungainly crashed into or straddled (!) but by the end of our time here I’m hoping we are jumping over them with ease!

As yet still no giraffes spotted but plans are afoot for a safari trip at the end of our time here. Muchos excitement! Despite the lack of giraffes there remains an abundance of other wildlife passing our front door – cows, sheep, goats, donkeys, the cockerel mafia… Our dinner even arrived clucking and fully conscious through the front door this week in the form of a live chicken which was dully killed, plucked, gutted and cooked in the kitchen. You can’t say it wasn’t fresh!! Some girlie shrieking at the realisation of what was about to happen did occur I’m embarrassed to say – although we heartily tucked in once marinated in sauce!  Not sure what’s on the menu this week??!

Much love to all

C x