Leaving Epukiro

We left Epukiro on Thursday morning after clinic and I went right up to the wire on my research report. It’s unfortunately one of my many weaknesses to put 100%effort into everything (boys, if you are reading this, that means EVERYTHING....oh, sorry Mum, ignore that bit) and so if I was going to write a research report on contraception, HIV and Aids in the community then it was going to be something I would be proud to publish under my name. So, I worked all day on it on Wednesday, through dinner on Wednesday evening and even through House and Grey’s Anatomy which have been my own personal lifeline in the evenings in Pos 3. I was somewhat fuelled by Smarties and Coke (can I claim anything for product placement?) but take it from me, these consumable props have been a necessity and I may have to go into Smartie rehab once I get back to the UK.

But come 10am Thursday morning, the report was done and I had the same palpable relief and sense of freedom that getting in any academic report gives me and this sense of anticipation and excitement was further fuelled by the prospect of leaving town. I’d packed the night before (never have I packed with so much gusto) and I had laid out my travelling clothes on the bed ready for the morning. I had even promised myself that I would borrow the extension lead so that I could blow-dry my hair in front of the mirror in the bathroom rather than leave it to dry naturally. I’d done this nearly every day on this holiday and frankly it meant I looked like I had licked my fingers and stuck them in an electric socket every morning, so unruly and untameable was it. But as we loaded the bags into the car, now full with passengers as every car going in and out of Pos 3 seems to be, I looked around and in a bizarre and completely unobjective way I felt quite sad to leave. But not so sad as to want to stay any longer and so I hopped into the car with a light step and suddenly realised how stupid it had been to wear white jeans when I was clearly going to be sharing the front set with Choppy the dog.

We made a stop in Gobabis to check on little Martha Schoene a Bushman baby who had been admitted a week before for severe dehydration and malnutrition. Martha’s mother died last year and her father had left her with either his sister or his sister-in-law - we couldn’t quite work which - while he went to work away on a farm. For whatever reason Marta had not been fed very well in his absence over quite a long period and by the time her Father brought her into the clinic it didn’t need an examination to tell us she was really very ill. We later learnt that she was three years old but she looked no more than a year and was so weak she couldn’t even sit up on her own. Little Marta was like a skeleton doll with huge eyes that didn’t seem to register anything that was happening to her. Her backbone protruded out so far it was possible to see each individual vertebrate and the skin hung off her like rags. She had been only weeks, maybe days away from dying and a very cold night or a slight infection would have been the end of her. A week later in hospital I saw her for the first time properly and the shock of her condition truely hit me. She lay in a cot, sleeping, wearing only a little vest and pants and her body looked so frail and emaciated that I couldn’t believe for a minute that she was any better. I let down the side of the cot and took hold of her hand and gently stroked it. Her eyes opened and looked up at me and they were so beautiful I couldn’t believe anyone could have allowed her to get into a state like this. I picked her up and it was like picking up a baby not a toddler and held her to me, feeling her burrow her face into my neck and her little hands grip onto my shirt. I stood there rocking her and felt her body relax and she slowly fell to sleep and I hoped that the contact and affection would help her. We couldn’t stay very long and after fifteen minutes I put her down and talked to her for a moment or so while I stroked her head and face. The nurse had come with a polystyrene cup full of milk flip which she told us was a mixture of milk, egg and cooking oil. The cup was nearly as big as Marta’s head but she raised her skinny little arms and her hands took it with a surprisingly firm grip and we all watched in amazement as she put it to her lips and drank without breath until it was finished. The nurse informed us that sometimes she finished three cups of milk flip at one sitting and when I heard this I thought, perhaps, she would be fine after all, as long as she went back to someone who would look after her properly. If not, she may well just end up in the same state again.

Comments

[Ruthie]

Hello Lorraine

This blog has me spellbound. I wish I had been following it every day, but only picked it up today. You paint such an amazing picture of your fantastic trip. I do hope the rest and relaxation part is everything you have dreamed of.
And then girl, get your ass back here. There is some swimming training to be done, meets to enter and........ I've missed you xx

Ruthie x

[Richard]

Just as bit late for a Smartie Easter Egg.
Now we know what to get you for your Birthday.
I like the description of the unruly hair. Will this ever be seen in the UK?
Best wishes to Little Martha.
Cheers,
Richard

[Phil Wood]

Lorraine

I can send you money by 'Moneygram' - it only take 10 minutes to sort it out and send

I pay the money into any post office and they give me a code number and 10 minutes later you can go into :-

Standard Bank, Namibia
CNR S NUJOMA AND MOLTKE STREET
SWAKOPMUND

Tel :_ 64412500

and they will give you the money

Can you email me or ring to confirm you want me to go ahead

Email :- mail@philwood.co.uk
Tel home 01572 747666
Mobile 07973194598