23/07/2008 - Update 5
Perhaps I haven’t written this update yet because it is one of the most difficult to write.. but I do feel that my 7 write-ups about my trip would be incomplete without this one, so I will do my best to recall the events of last week.
The night I arrived back from Harare was a little nerve-wrecking. I was relieved to find the car still at the airport. However, driving home with no light lining the roads is no easy feat. I drove slowly, but as I drove past the army barracks, a dog dashed across the road, and I only saw it when I was within metres of it… luckily. I skidded about 6 or 7 metres, just enough time for it to get to the other side safely. Needless to say, I was quite shaken up when I got home.
The weekend was fairly uneventful in Bulawayo, as I find weekends there often are. Town closes on Saturday at lunch time, and only reopens on Monday morning. For this reason, I much prefer being there during the week. I spent Sunday walking around Hillside Dams by myself, and then went to the Nesbitt Castle for tea, where I was the sole customer.
Monday morning I was up very early and drove to Dr Steve Beaty’s house, an American ophthalmologist, who I have referred to in some of my other updates. I joined him as part of a team of 6 people who went to Gwanda to do cataract surgeries there. On the team was one other doctor, Dr Amal Sarkis from Egypt. Days before, the hospital there had said there would be 9 operations to do. When we arrived, they said there would be 30. Later on, we counted 64. I spent most of the morning, while the doctors were doing examinations, photographing the place and the people. Once surgery started, I went into theatre, feeling very hot under my scrubs and mask. White Bata takkies were provided for us, which were only allowed in theatre. And I wondered how long they had had these shoes, when they had been bought, and I considered their amazingly white mint condition. My first time in surgery was a little nauseating as one can expect I suppose. I tried to be tough for as long as I could, as I watched Dr Beaty cut into the patient’s eye, and as I listened to him explain to me exactly what he was doing. The patient, an elderly woman, lay squeezing my hand. There came a moment when I had to leave the theatre, which was apparently just in time as my face had turned pale white, and one of the nurses came out to thank me for leaving. The last thing they needed was to have to deal with me fainting. The blood returned to my cheeks eventually, and I went back in to theatre, where a wacky woman, who must’ve been in her 90’s, refused to keep her hands by her side, and kept trying to reach up and feel what the doctor was doing. I slowly got used to being in the theatre, to watching the surgery, and was just amazed as the eye of the patient gave birth to the pale blue disk that is the cataract.
That afternoon, one of the local nurses told me that there was bread in town. She jumped in the truck with Cathy and I, and we went to see what we could find. Bread-a-plenty in the first store we entered, and then we went over to the Kwik-Spar, where everything could be found… cooking oil! Salt! Maize meal! Milk! All the things we don’t have in the shops in Bulawayo, or even in Harare for that matter. I was stunned… but unfortunately, I didn’t have any Zim dollars. The nurse approached management and asked if I could change rand with them. Surprisingly, they declined. And then a man came up to me in the store, and introduced himself as the person in charge of the store, and as CID (police). I was a little afraid, because of the illegal exchange of money I had attempted to do. And then another man approached me to ask about the money. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it, as I was afraid of what the CID guy would do. Then I realized they were working together, and wanted my Rand. I did a money exchange with him, and was able to take some milk and oil, and a few other things back to town. Unfortunately, the only maize meal that was left had been reserved by people and had their names on it. But I was shocked to discover that a 20kg bag cost 1 billion dollars (the equivalent on that day, of 2 US cents!!!) The city of Gwanda is apparently a ZANU (government) stronghold which is why they are well-supplied.
CID officer, Gwanda
The hospital workers were also given government rations and were well-fed. We had expected to find very little there, and had hidden away at lunch time, eating our sandwiches that we had brought from home so that no one who didn’t have food would see us eat… only to have the local hospital staff, a few minutes later, bring out a huge pot of sadza and chicken stew!
That day, I think many of us went through moments of feeling useless and helpless, and then there were other moments of being motivated and having tasks to drive us. 15 surgeries were completed in total. And walking away while 49 others waited, who had been waiting all day, who had managed to get there despite almost no public transport, despite the exorbitant fees for the little transport that exists…
I told Jeanne that we had managed to give sight to almost 25% of the people there. It was something. Unfortunately we didn’t get to see them remove their bandages the next morning, and experience their improved sight. 25% was substantial, but walking away from 75 was hard.
I got home that evening around 8ish. I didn’t eat. I hardly spoke to anyone. I was in bed by 9.
Although we all sometimes try to ignore the hardships in the world, we cannot deny that they are still there. And I guess I learnt that day, that to be in this kind of work, one really needs to learn how to compartmentalize, in order to retain sanity.
I bumped into some friends in Joburg airport yesterday. They had just come back from Australia and will be moving there permanently in January. I asked the children if they were excited to go. The little boy, referring to the poverty in Cape Town, to a specific occurrence of someone asking him for food, said that he was excited to go to “a place with less sadness.”
Pictures of Children in Gwanda
