Sunday morning began in a quiet but productive way with breakfast and several hours of computer work. While in Africa we have a tremendous amount of communicating to do, both to the readers of the blog and to our support team in California. Generally, we spend evening hours typing away until we cannot keep our eyes open any more. Yet, in spite of our best efforts, we gradually fall behind. On Sunday mornings we give ourselves a period of stillness in which to get caught up again.
After lunch Godfrey arrived to assist us with our computers. On Friday the internet at the guesthouse had stopped working, which amounts to a minor emergency for us. Luckily, we have a technical wizard nearby who enjoys helping us as much as we enjoy being helped. We are so grateful for all of our good friends here.
After Godfrey repaired our lifeline to the world beyond Ndola, we dropped him at his house on our way to the Chinan Clinic to pick up another friend, Dr. Obi, whom you may remember from our visit in July. At that time he very generously volunteered to donate some of his Sunday afternoons to provide an informal medical clinic for the people of Kantolomba. Since we last saw him, he has visited the compound three times, treating people of all ages for everything from cuts and bruises to the opportunistic infections that come as a consequence of living with HIV/AIDS.
Our plan had been to meet Dr. Obi and two of the nurses from the Chinan Clinic at the compound that afternoon, but the doctor called us at lunchtime to inform us that he regretfully needed to cancel because of the fuel shortage--his car was with a friend at the end of a quarter-mile-long line at a gas station. Luckily, earlier in the day we had found a taxi driver named Mr. Muzonde who had a half-full tank. (Our regular man, Muyunda, does not work on Sundays.) We later learned that Mr. Muzonde bought his petrol on the black market at 25,000 Kwacha (about six dollars) per liter! If Ndola does not find a reliable source of fuel soon, the whole economy is going to come to its knees.
"No problem," we told Dr. Obi, with the confidence of people fortunate enough to know Mr. Muzonde, "we'll pick you up." When we arrived at the Chinan clinic, he and the nurses (Susan and Frieda) good-naturedly piled into the taxi with us.
Left to right: Susan, Dr. Obi, Frieda
At Kantolomba Dr. Obi and his colleagues immediately went to work. They set up an impromptu examination room inside our little mud-brick "kitchen" building and began to see patients, beginning with the children. One by one people filed in, many of them frightened by the new and strange experience of seeing a doctor. With admirable patience, Dr. Obi questioned each one, waited for Susan or Frieda to translate (the doctor is from Nigeria originally and does not speak fluent Bemba), then recorded their responses by hand in a notebook. In most cases he was able to make a simple diagnosis and prescribe a mild treatment to take care of the difficulty. A few cases were more complex. One little boy, for example, had been born with a hernia and needs a surgical procedure. We have arranged to have him seen by a surgeon at the hospital to get a more specific opinion.
A reluctant patient.
The waiting room.
Looking at one patient's throat.
Some good news: When we were here in July, we found several people in the compound with severe infections, one at least had reached a life-threatening stage, and arranged for them to be taken to the hospital to be treated. In particular you may remember Purity and Regina and the horrible pain they went through having their cuts cleaned. They are all healed! Only Purity remains with a bandage and periodic treatment, as her wound was the deepest. The others have only scars now where just three months ago they had bloody, infected wounds that would not close. It was worth traveling twenty thousand miles just to see their smiling faces.
Purity is in the middle of the first row.
Regina shows off her healed leg.
After two hours of work, Dr. Obi, Susan, and Frieda emerged from the building, hot and exhausted, but proud of what they had done. As we drove away in the taxi, it was exciting to imagine what a happy difference it will make when the Community Center building is finished, and Dr. Obi and others have a real clinic with modern equipment in which to work. It's going to have a tremendous impact on the community.
After dropping Dr. Obi and the nurses in town with many expressions of our deep gratitude, we repaired to Castle Lodge for the evening. Arriving, we found a wedding in progress. It was the second of the weekend. The evening before had been a real treat: a true Zambian wedding with all of the colors and traditions, involving almost three hundred people. They had danced and celebrated far into the night--and right through our ear-plugs. This second wedding was smaller and quieter, luckily. After greeting a few of the guests, we were off to a good night's sleep.
The guesthouse all dressed up for the wedding.