Black Thursday Shopping in Kakamega

Thanksgiving Day and the Unforgiving Cow

This was my very first Thanksgiving celebrating without my family, but Patricia and I were bound and determined to make it special.  Therefore, we both requested the day off from our superiors and planned on venturing into Kakamega to dine at our new-found favorite eatery in the main supermarket.  As we flagged a zooming matatu, we set sail for the most bizarre Thanksgiving of my life.

Whenever I see a mtoto (child), be it in the pediatric ward or on the street, I pull out my trusty bag of stickers (compliments of Asha Poepping) and let them choose one.  They all proudly display their newfound treasure on their hands (or their heads, if they are feeling silly).  Unfortunately, I am running out of these stickers and I had a few nursing students nab some while I had my back turned, so I was determined to find some stickers in Kakamega.  I scoured the dusty streets for any shop that may carry stickers--my quest for the Holy Grail commenced.  In every shop I inquired about stickers, the workers would look at me with puzzled looks, but after a brief explanation of what I was looking for, the shopkeepers would all seemingly understand what I needed.  No joke, every single one would scurry towards the back of the store and proudly present to me Sticky-Notes, which is what they believed I meant by “Stickers for Watoto (Children)”.  After carefully telling them that we weren’t exactly on the same page, they all informed me that they had no stickers.  To my dismay, despite a valiant effort, my quest was unsuccessful.

This was the first time that we travelled to Kakamega on a weekday, but it was still just as busy.  Patricia and I had to ‘top up’ our phone minutes, which took an eternity and a half because the workers at the phone store weren’t understanding that Patricia wanted both minutes for calls and minutes for the internet on her phone.  However, I wasn’t too distressed by this because I was excited that it was Thanksgiving and that we were going to have a nice lunch.  As we left the phone store we continue on our path to Nakumatt.  We saw so many Mzungas (white people) at Nakumatt and I, being excited to see them, went up to one and exclaimed, “Happy Thanksgiving”.  The woman gave me a weird look and I realized that she probably wasn’t a Mzunga from America.   My deduction proved correct when she told me she was from Australia.  Oops!  We chatted for a while and she said her church group would be in Kenya for 3 weeks working at a local orphanage.  I asked her if she by any chance had any stickers with her.  Unfortunately, she said that  the ones she had brought were back at her hotel. L

As we parted ways, Patricia and I continued on our journey towards the restaurant.  There, we dined on cheeseburgers (like I said in my last post, I don’t really think it’s beef, but it was magnificent), chips (fries), and despite the fact that it was 11am we both saddled up to the bar and had ourselves a tall Tusker Beer (Hey, it was 5 o’clock somewhere).  We sat outside, so we definitely received a fair amount of glances in our direction and one man asked us why we were drinking so early (and also why we were drinking our beer cold).  It was definitely a memorable Thanksgiving meal, although I couldn’t help but miss the traditional moist turkey legs and homemade stuffing (just thinking about it now, is making me salivate).  After our $10.00 Thanksgiving meal, we stopped at Nakumatt to buy groceries that we aren’t able to buy locally.  At the door, we were searched for weapons with metal-detector wands, and after a brief explanation that the metal object in my purse was a camera and not a gun, we proceeded inside.

After exiting Nakumatt, Patricia realized that the internet on her phone wasn’t working, so we needed to go back to the phone store.  This is of course post-Tusker beer and after walking around the busy streets all day, not to mention that we were carrying a full load of groceries.  Needless to say, we were exhausted by the time we were able to cram ourselves into a Matatu with our groceries stacked on top of us.  As we were driving back to Mukumu, we both stared glossy-eyed in front of us, dreaming of a much needed bath and our welcoming beds.  Well, in the midst of our day dreaming, we lost track of where we were and thought we had missed our stop and frantically we yelled at the Matatu driver to stop.  The Matatu driver looked at us puzzled, but obliged our desperate request.  As we exited the Matatu, however, we realized that our stop was still to come, so we began walking home with our full load of groceries.  I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically because as the matatu drove away and we had our realization, a cow on the side of the road mooed at us, and I was sure that he was mooing in pity.  However, as Patricia trudged passed the cow, he decided to pushed her into the road, at which time I realized he wasn’t mooing in pity, rather he was snarling at us to get off the grass that he had been peacefully munching on before the stupid Wazungu disrupted him.  I only wish I had the chance to grab my camera in time.  Unfortunately, Patricia quickly realized what was happening and moved out of the way of the grumpy cow.  Well, I guess I’d be pissed too if someone was stepping on my Thanksgiving dinner. J

Working as a Nurse in Kenya

Working here in Kenya has proven to be a challenge for this Mzungu.  Most of the medications are under a different trade name (I rarely hear the generic names being used) and further, the medical staffs here use abbreviations for many of the medications.  It took me a while to realize that Paracetamol is just acetaminophen.  Also, all orders, not surprisingly, are hand-written and I have struggle with reading them.  The hospital here is very short staffed, so the main bulk of nursing care comes from the many students here.  On the pediatric ward, we’ve had an average of five patients on a given day and usually about four nursing students on duty.  I find myself wanting to be a role model for the students to show them what is correct and incorrect, but unfortunately nursing care is much different here and being a new nurse myself, I have a hard time figuring out what is completely incorrect care and what is simply different from the way we do it in America.  Finally, one of the biggest challenges is the language barrier.  As I stated before, most of my clients don’t speak English or if they do, it is very minimal.  Any good nurse knows that the crux of proper nursing care is communication.  Of course, I have been trying to communicate nonverbally, but that only goes so far when you are assessing a patient.

I had become a little discouraged because I felt like I wasn’t doing much here, but I had an epiphany, thanks to some wise words from my Dad, and I realized that all I can do is show love to these patients.  Thus, I have tried very hard to play with the children who are well and give as many stickers as I can.

There is a little mtoto here (I’ll call her Katie) that has been at the pediatric ward for almost 3 weeks now.  At this hospital, when patients are unable to pay their bill, they are required to stay in the hospital until they can pay (adding $150 shillings every day that they are discharged in).  In the case of Katie, her grandmother is unable to pay the bill, so they have been discharged-in for almost 2 weeks now.  Katie is probably the most sociable mtoto I have seen, in fact I refer to her as our little P.R. representative for the hospital because she goes around to everyone and quickly become best buddies with them.  Soon after my arrival in pediatrics, Katie decided that I was HER Mzungu, not only because I have stickers, but also because I have become her personal airplane pilot, flying her all around the ward.  The first time I met her, she was completely covered in dirt and didn’t exactly smell like flowers, but her inviting smile and infectious giggle helped me to move pass my germ-o-phobia and play with her.  Later on, I noticed these circles on her shaven head and the nurse casually informed me that the child must have ringworm!  I had a slight internal freak-out, since I had been playing her for two weeks and ring worm is pretty contagious.  However after careful inspection, I have not found a single ring on my body.  Thank you, God!

Finding my Sea Legs

In the US, patients are usually pre-medicated with an analgesic prior to a painful procedure such as doing a wet-to-dry packing on an open wound.  Here, patients aren’t given pre—medication, not even children.  There was a little boy (I’ll call him Elliot) in the pediatric ward with a large wound on the back of his leg from a bicycle accident and the dressing on the wound was to be removed and replaced every day.  The first day I had observed, Elliot struggled and screamed and his mother was forced to hold him down.  It was very heart-wrenching to watch such a sweet little boy writhe in pain and beg his mother to make them stop.  The next day, I decided that I would try my best to make him a little more comfortable.  I knew Elliot spoke a little English, so I told him to squeeze my hands when it hurt and that he was going to be my Kiswahili mwalimu (‘teacher’).  As I held his hands, we counted together in Swahili up to 50.  Elliot barely even screamed and I felt proud knowing that in a small way, I had helped the boy to remain calm in a normally traumatic experience for him.  For the rest of the day, I called him ‘mwalimu mzuri’ (‘good teacher’).

On Wednesday, we had four patients discharged (which is actually quite a lengthy process).  One three year old girl (I’ll call her Sophie) was just about ready to leave—in fact, her mother had just gone with a nursing student to the billing office to pay (the final step in the discharge process).  Another nursing student and I were serving lunch at the time and the grandmother came to us and said that her granddaughter felt very warm.  Upon assessment, I discovered that Sophie had a fever of 39⁰C axillary (which is extremely high), her breathing was rapid and shallow, and she was restless.  A fever this high can result in convulsions, so I knew we needed to act quickly.  I removed all of her clothes and instructed the grandmother to tepid sponge her.  Meanwhile, I went to the nurse’s desk to find the head nurse, only to discover that she was gone.  I was now supposed to act as the head nurse with several nursing students, who didn’t seem to grasp the severity of the situation.  I delegated the task of finding the doctor to a student, but she responded that the child was being discharged and she was working on something else.  I decided that I needed to go myself to search out a doctor.  Thankfully, I found a doctor just a few minutes later, and begged him to see my patient.  By the time I had returned with the doctor, in had been about 20 minutes since I last checked Sohpie’s temperature, so I felt it necessary to check again: 39.4⁰C!!!  The doctor ordered a stat IM injection to lower her temperature and readmitted her.  After just one day of receiving new medication, Sophie’s temperature was back down to virtually normal and she was toddling around the ward.  It goes to show how important it is to take vital signs on pediatric patients because their status can change as quick as lightening.  This was the first time I felt like a real nurse since I’ve been in Kenya.

Patricia…where’s my chocolate bar?!

Patricia and I have a habit of hiding our money in various places around the house just in case we have uninvited guests (we’re not talking about rats here), so on Wednesday, when I went into my purse to double check that I had 350/- shillings left ($3.50) and found nothing, I didn’t think much of it.  Of course, I am positively the most absent minded person I know and so I figured I must’ve hid it in one of my ingenious hiding spots.  I explained to Patricia that I have already begun to lose my mind at 22!  As I sifted through my inventory, Patricia came out of her room with an empty satchel, one which she had kept a large sum of money.  By this time, we began to realize that maybe we weren’t just being senile.  We had been robbed!  What was bizarre was that there were no signs of a break in, no broken windows or open doors.  Since we are compulsive about locking our doors (even when we are in the house), Patricia and I have hypothesized that whatever bold person traipsed into our house must’ve had a key (we are missing the key to the door for my bedroom).  As I looked further, I realized that they had also stolen a $100 US dollar bill from my wallet.  Luckily, they hadn’t taken any of our electronics (computers, cameras, ipads, etc), which hadn’t even been locked up.  The administrators of the hospital as well as the security guards have been extremely on top of the situation and have ensured us that they will be changing the locks.  In the mean time they have bought us pad locks to secure on the doors we don’t use.  Of course, I decided to take matters into my own hands and I now sleep with an Ugali stick in one hand and my Bible in the other.  (For those of you who don’t know, an Ugali stick is a long wooden utensil used to stir Ugali, it sort of looks like a Cricket Bat).  I informed Patricia that if I saw anyone (or thing) gallivanting through my room at night, I would swing first, and ask questions later.  Needless to say, Patricia has wisely decided to stay out of my room during the night. J

The next day, Patricia had gone on an outreach trip and I was eating lunch by myself in our house (of course, I thoroughly inspected each room beforehand, Ugali stick in hand).  After I finished lunch, I decided that I had been through a lot this week, so I resolved to treat myself then with a scrumptious piece of Cadbury chocolate from the fridge.  I scoured the fridge for our stash of chocolate bars, but I found nothing.  I thought that perhaps Patricia had taken the chocolate for sustenance on the outreach, but when she returned home devoid of the chocolate later that evening, I decided that I started getting suspicious.  Although it wasn’t like Patricia to take anything of mine without asking, I politely asked her anyway if she had had an overzealous sweet-tooth and had finished off the chocolate.  She looked at me puzzled and shook her head.  After a thorough hunt through our food stash, we realized that the naughty robbers had taken our stinkin’ chocolate.  That’s right folks, they seized our chocolate, but they left the computer?!  What is this world coming to?  I mean, it is one thing to steal all my money, but taking a girl’s chocolate bar after such a taxing week…that’s just a low-blow, man.  That’s not kosher in my book! J

In all seriousness, Patricia and I are safe.  We are so thankful that we weren’t home when the robbers were here, not only because I would have crapped my pants and packed my bags for America, but also because we might have been seriously injured otherwise.  We are also extremely thankful that they left all of our credit cards, passports, and electronic devices.  Finally, we are extremely thankful that the hospital has taken this matter so seriously and ensured our safety is their priority here.  Thank you, Heavenly Father, for taking care of us while we are here.