Marry me, mzungu!

I spent the morning in the immunization/dressings area.  In the dressings area, there is a plastic bed with no cover or bedding of any kind.  A man had a wound on his buttcheek, and ++serosang/mucous drainage came from the site. Once the doctor was finished, the drainage was wiped up with gauze. Next!

There was a little boy with Asthma given Aminophylline IV. They inserted a needle into his vein, and pushed the drug over 15 minutes. The little guy was so brave! Milan (the pharmacist) found this odd as Aminophylline was usually used as a last resort. What about an inhaler? Even a nebulizer? We then realized we haven’t seen any inhalers.

Immunization Room

I watched a vaginal delivery back on the labour ward. Seriously, African ladies are so tough! No analgesics given, and only a small yelp at the end. The nurses delivered the baby, cut the cord, and immediately took him over to clean him up, and set him under a warmer. The mother wiped herself down with a scarf in which she brought, stood up and put a pad in her underwear, got dressed, and went back to the ward where she shared a bed with a woman currently in early labour. We weighed (and cuddled) the baby, and the baby was brought to its mother for her to hold for the first time, after about an hour.

We took part in a caesarian section later that afternoon. The reason for the c-section was fetal distress and uterine rupture.  There was absolutely no fetal monitoring, and we had no idea how the baby was doing. This really made me uncomfortable. The procedure was done very quickly as they had to get baby out as soon as possible. The baby was okay, thank goodness! Milan watched the procedure as well, and was very thankful to be a pharmacist, as well as a man.  Also, there was a gecko in the scrub sink where we washed prior to entering the theatre.

On the daladala on the way home as I was squished between large mommas, and under a sack full of onions, one of the daladala workers gave me a piece of paper with his phone number on it. “Sistah! Sistah! Take this! Oh sistah!” We get this a lot, as well as “I love you” or “marry me” when we pass a local.  White people are a sign of wealth, and marrying us is seen as a way out of poverty. Don’t worry, I never called him.

Here are some pictures of the dressing room::

Dressing Room