The sun is setting!
The hut where I've laid all day under the brilliance of its overhead fan is a fortress from the smothering heat the hot season sends, it was time.
Two weeks ago, a few of us biked the 3k out of Kedougou along the banks of the Gambia River to a spot known as the playground for the hippos who inhabit those waters. Unfortuanetly, we arrived too late. They had floated along. With all of my determination, I not only want to be a great volunteer, but I also don't want to leave Africa without seeing at least one exotic animal in her natural habitat, not behind bars at the local zoo.
One of my Senegalese counterparts who I work with in my village lives in Kedougou. For weeks now, we've discussed hunting hippos, or "gabbies" (in Pulaar) together down in Kedougou. I called him to announce the time had come, and we made the trek on our bikes once again. Along the dirt road we soared ducking around mangoes and billowing trees. We arrived at the familiar spot. He stood at the top of the hill, while I trotted down to the banks. Not even two seconds later, he whistled. I ran up the hill and, there in the distance...water was shooting up along with the perky ears of nothing other than: a hippo.
I insisted on a better look, so we ran up down the bank, searching for the best view. We finally stood on hill that overlooked them straight on. Not too close to danger, but a view visible enough to see the gargantuan creatures coming up and down for air, ears perked and making a sound related to a bellowing yawn. We stood on the banks and watched for an hour, skipping rocks and arguing over which was more life threatening; a croc or a hippo.
"Fatou, I think you should just swim over there and give them a nice pat on the head," my friend says with a smirk, "I sit and watch from here, and then we will know for sure which is more dangerous."
"Sure," I reply, "but please be sure to jump in and collect my bones after they're finished and send them back to America for me."
What a picturesque afternoon in Senegal. It's what we all dream about when we think of Africa. Adventures, sunsets and wild animals. Of course, no experience is never enough if not shared with a friend-my African friend at that!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Right to Sight
When it comes to work, its rare to have projects that land in your lap. I could spend weeks even months without a project in my view and suddenly BAM!, someone turns to you, poor little volunteer, and simply says, "I need your help." This happened to be the case two weeks ago when American eye doctors with the organization Right to Sight and Health came down to Kedougou with the goals of giving free eye consultations and cataract operations to the natives of our region.
An annual project which started a fews years ago, has proven, unlike other aid projects, has proven quite successful. Globally and locally here in Kedougou, this group of doctors have given the gift of sight to the blind and education and a way to "healthier sight."
Being a newcomer to Senegal, this was my first year working with this brilliant group. Being trained in local languages and living amongst the villagers makes us as Peace Corps qualified in the cultural respect aiding the doctors in what cultural barriere they may have to cross in working with the community.
As a health volunteer, I immediately jumped on this project. Knowing that the little Pulaar I've retained wouldn't exactly help the cause, I pressed for other angles they may need assistance with. "Well, we do need two volunteers to serve as physician's assistants in the operating room." Umm...yes please!
People who pursue the career as a physician's assistant in the western world attend school and undergo an extensive program and rotations for the ability to recieve the diploma of professional achievement. Lucky for me, Africa doesn't have malpractice laws, so I was handed this golden degree in a matter of two hours.
For two weeks, 9 hours a day,wrapped in a gown, latex gloves and a pretty flowered cap, I sterilized operating instruments, dressed the surgeons, prepared the sterile station and whatever else the surgeons needed. As the hours and days passed and I watched as cataract after cataract was ejected from eye after eye, I became completely infatuated with the work and managed by the end of the two weeks to have the whole operation memorized like the back of my hand. Of course, being in a Senegalese hospital...we did run into problems.
For example, the first day I felt like a complete idiot when I managed to drop a whole bucket of water in the operation room. Trudging around trying to clean up my accident in the operating room now a swamp, I thought they might fire me. However, they praised me for actually cleaning it up.
Also, the operating room we used was shared with the gynocologists. Needless to say, several surgeries were interrupted due to emergency C-sections that needed to be done. So, we would clear out and the operating room would turn into the labor and delivery ward. AFter a mere two hour delay, we would rotate yet again, resterilize the room and it would turn into an opthamalogist operating room. Needless, to say, not only did I get to witness eye surgery, but I watched three C-sections.
Working with surgeons is not an easy task. My hats off to those that do. I can't how many times I got yelled at for nearly contaminating the sterile station, forgetting to press the start button on the sterilizer and dropping the lens on the floor. I promise, I got better. You know those first few days of learning are the toughest. I laughed at myself...visualizing what I must look like....surgical mask, gloves, flip-flops, dirty feet and a threadbare skirt. Not your everyday nurse showing up for a day at work.
But I guess that is what my life is like....it's not your normal day at work...everyday is different.
All in all, over the course of two weeks, we completed over a hundred cataract operations. One case especially, a sixteen year old girl, who cried the whole time "NO Mussi" (in Pulaar means, "It hurts") was completely blind in both eyes. Today, she can see the streets she walks down in Kedougou. NO Mussi no more, my dear.
An annual project which started a fews years ago, has proven, unlike other aid projects, has proven quite successful. Globally and locally here in Kedougou, this group of doctors have given the gift of sight to the blind and education and a way to "healthier sight."
Being a newcomer to Senegal, this was my first year working with this brilliant group. Being trained in local languages and living amongst the villagers makes us as Peace Corps qualified in the cultural respect aiding the doctors in what cultural barriere they may have to cross in working with the community.
As a health volunteer, I immediately jumped on this project. Knowing that the little Pulaar I've retained wouldn't exactly help the cause, I pressed for other angles they may need assistance with. "Well, we do need two volunteers to serve as physician's assistants in the operating room." Umm...yes please!
People who pursue the career as a physician's assistant in the western world attend school and undergo an extensive program and rotations for the ability to recieve the diploma of professional achievement. Lucky for me, Africa doesn't have malpractice laws, so I was handed this golden degree in a matter of two hours.
For two weeks, 9 hours a day,wrapped in a gown, latex gloves and a pretty flowered cap, I sterilized operating instruments, dressed the surgeons, prepared the sterile station and whatever else the surgeons needed. As the hours and days passed and I watched as cataract after cataract was ejected from eye after eye, I became completely infatuated with the work and managed by the end of the two weeks to have the whole operation memorized like the back of my hand. Of course, being in a Senegalese hospital...we did run into problems.
For example, the first day I felt like a complete idiot when I managed to drop a whole bucket of water in the operation room. Trudging around trying to clean up my accident in the operating room now a swamp, I thought they might fire me. However, they praised me for actually cleaning it up.
Also, the operating room we used was shared with the gynocologists. Needless to say, several surgeries were interrupted due to emergency C-sections that needed to be done. So, we would clear out and the operating room would turn into the labor and delivery ward. AFter a mere two hour delay, we would rotate yet again, resterilize the room and it would turn into an opthamalogist operating room. Needless, to say, not only did I get to witness eye surgery, but I watched three C-sections.
Working with surgeons is not an easy task. My hats off to those that do. I can't how many times I got yelled at for nearly contaminating the sterile station, forgetting to press the start button on the sterilizer and dropping the lens on the floor. I promise, I got better. You know those first few days of learning are the toughest. I laughed at myself...visualizing what I must look like....surgical mask, gloves, flip-flops, dirty feet and a threadbare skirt. Not your everyday nurse showing up for a day at work.
But I guess that is what my life is like....it's not your normal day at work...everyday is different.
All in all, over the course of two weeks, we completed over a hundred cataract operations. One case especially, a sixteen year old girl, who cried the whole time "NO Mussi" (in Pulaar means, "It hurts") was completely blind in both eyes. Today, she can see the streets she walks down in Kedougou. NO Mussi no more, my dear.
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