Benin V

PFTE Part VIII Episode V
I’ll have to mention it again: the pineapples melt in your mouth here! I think I was still partially delirious with the last email I sent out, and I realize it probably didn’t make a heck of a lot of sense, so I thought I’d clarify; I was, I think, talking about the Chinese restaurant that I had just eaten at, mainly cause it was also the first food that I had eaten in three days! I was actually rather ill for a while there, so I think with the first taste of food and stuff, I think my poor brain got a bit over-stimulated.
Also, a couple of other notes of apparently being “Chinese” over here (cause clearly, I either really am, or else a very ignorant one, or else make a pretty good imitation ;) )
1. People find it very hard to believe that I can be Canadian. I guess it also doesn’t help that the rest of my team is white. I’m kind of like the pet monkey, that they bring around to show off. People here have actually been astonished that I speak French. Actually, English, even…
2. One guy was so surprised that I was actually from Canada, and not from China, he pulled aside one of the other team members and asked whether China was within walking distance of Canada… because clearly, I must’ve walked over and joined them for the flight…
3. Another guy we’ve met here is actually a ping-pong champion in Benin, like, on the national team. We had lunch with him, and, turning to me, wondered if I would like to “sponsor” him to come to Canada since I’d obviously be very good at ping-pong (right, Swong?)… right… I think he thought that that would be appropriate, hooking up with a “Chinese” ping-pong girl who happens to live in Canada… What a sweet deal for a ping-pong player in the developing world… ;) (biiiiiig rolling of the eyes…)
Otherwise, some notes on food (obviously I have a lot of time banked today…): They eat a lot of fish here. Well, it is on the coast… we’ve been eating a lot of it, though sometimes, I look into the waters and wonder what the heck I think I’m doing… maybe that can also explain a bit of the brain fog… They also eat a surprisingly large amount of rice here… the black market has connections to Thailand or something, and that’s how they get their rice supply….
Voodoo is huge here… it’s the inherent religion here, though a good proportion of the population are Muslim or Christian, though apparently most folks practice a bit of voodoo somewhere along the line… yeah, slavery and voodoo… those are the two big thematics of Benin culture… I think to try and describe it in a witty manner isn’t really doing it justice, particularly as slavery isn’t a funny subject at all, and well, neither is voodoo….
Anyways, that’s about it for now…
julia

Benin IV

PFTE Part VIII Episode IV

Thx to all who’ve written; I’m sorry that I haven’t had the time to respond to you (thx ems, big A, Mic, Joy, Nance… yes I agree that’s a good reason to return…) individually… but your emails are all very much appreciated… Did you know (I think it’s Steve Wonder-boy who told me this one…) there are no Chinese restos in Iran, but there are everywhere else in the world? I just went to one this evening… owned by a Chinese guy… I tell ya, the Chinese are everywhere…. ☺
Why? Cause it’s funny, for one thing. Secondly; there is only so much pili-pili a girl can eat before she starts thinking of even considering chicken feet… no; wait; that would be chicken head, wouldn’t it? ;)
Anyways, my time is quickly running out, and I may get logged off soon, so I’m gonna go. I promise to have something wittier next time, promise… love you!
julia

Benin III

PFTE Part VIII Episode III

Did I mention how the pineapple melts in your mouth here?
Anyways, I haven’t learned that much Fon since I’ve been here, which is the dominant language in this part of Benin (the south end of the country). But the one sentence I have learned (fun with Fon!!!) has been: Un no nyi Yovo ahhh, which basically means, “My name is not ‘Whitey’”. That’s been about it so far. So nothing else particularly useful in terms of language.
I was at the most amazing place on the weekend, a town called Ganvie. It’s a village entirely built on a lake, established in 1717 by people who were trying to escape from the slave traders ( A LOT of Benin’s history is tied up in the slave trade, as they were some of the biggest traders of their own peoples, as well as their captives, to the Europeans and Americans). Anyways, but the slave trade is another story as well as other places, and pictures.
It’s pretty amazing.
At any rate, Ganvie is this town built on stilts in the middle of this lake. I dunno how it occurred to them three hundred years ago to just paddle into the middle of a lake and start building houses. I guess if it’s that or be transported to the Americans to be a slave, I think I’d opt for drowning in my home country… and I took lots of photos there, which, as some of you know, I’m not that terribly trigger happy with the camera usually… It was a totally –other- type experience, if that makes sense.
julia

Benin II

PFTE Part VIII Episode II

Oh my goodness!!!! I have soooo many stories to tell already but I can’t cause I don’t have the time or space for it yet, but there’s bunches already. One observation: Cotonou lies very close to the Nigerian border (about 30 km) and a lot of its economy is based on the black market. At any rate, this has to do with the air quality, which will all make sense once I come home and explain it to you, if you care to hear.
The air here is blue. Like, grey-blue. Like, during rush hour, if I breathe too much, my lungs start to hurt. Most of the zemijhans (or zem-zems) use illegally imported petrol from Nigeria to run. However, this means totally unrefined and nasty fuel into the vehicles, hence leading to ++++ dirty exhaust and air. It actually gets hard to see here because of it. That’s kinda gross, I must say… so for those of you envying my skin take note: it really has taken quite a beating here, and is becoming quite frightful…
However, it is rather interesting as there are ‘petrol stops’ every few blocks that are just jars of illegal petrol that you can buy for half the price of the gas station’s stuff… weird…
julia

Benin I

Postcards from the edge Part VIII Episode I

So here I am, back in the wilds of West Africa (oh no some groan, julia’s off on some other silly trip again), so yet another installment of the ever-thrilling PFTE…
This time I’m in Cotonou, Benin (that’s Benin, Andrew, not Ghana): it’s kind of like the Toronto equivalent of Canada… I’ve eaten so much fried plantain since I’ve been here, it’s silly… and some of the yummiest pineapple ever… For those of you who remember my moaning and groaning about how hot it was in Niger… it’s hot here… although admittedly not even remotely possibly close to how hot it was in Niger… for those of you freezing in Canada, it’s about 32C out here and humid, since the rainy season is coming to a close… which means I missed mango season, big time… out here, in mango season, you can get mangoes almost the size of my head (ok, maybe not my head, maybe Tim’s ;) )
Otherwise, not much to say so far… I’ll write about my first impressions later… it’s always kind of strange, the feelings one gets when one walks off an airplane… also: I have a limited amt of time on this machine and it’s ticking away so I will speak to you all later!!!
Love you all!
julia

Pembroke IV

Y'know, I think I may have West Nile with all the bites that I've been getting. One staff was quite horrified with the red polka-dots all over my legs.. almost looked like chicken-pox, they thought... ?jokingly...? It's been awful.. if I don't down at least 50mg of benadryl, I can't sleep through the night...
Other quaint snapshots of living in a small town:
1. There are more than two asian docs here. There are, in fact, at least six who work here at the hospital (plus me). The newest one is a young female surgeon, who, when it was noted that she was moving here a year ago, made the front page headline in the local paper apparently. She was stopped for speeding soon after that, and even though the officer, when stopping her car said, "Good evening, Dr. Huang", still gave her a ticket. Too bad she wasn't driving anywhere remotely towards the hospital...
2. I've already gotten my first "Hello, Doctor!" on the streets of Pembroke by some random passer-by. And, I've only been here three weeks...
3. I've hung out at the local Canadian Legion with the community band...
4. Had my first intact lobster. Had to wrestle it to the ground, as I couldn't for the life of me open the sucker. Gave the head with the green goopy stuff to one of the wives of one of the Chinese docs. Eventually just put it on the table and started whacking at it with that nut-cracker thing... and you guys thought I had a hard time with shrimp at that restaurant... :)
That's about all! Still have yet to encounter a bear. I'm told you can see them from time to time...

Pembroke III

OK, well, back to my stunning and amazing adventures... :)
One thing of note: It's amazing at how people know people in small towns. They sit and they chat to each other if they bump into each other in the emergency department, or in the doctor's waiting rooms, instead of studiously avoiding each other's gazes, reading four year old issues of Reader's Digest. There's no such thing as six degrees of separation here. Try more like three. "Oh well, Moira did the flowers for my best friend's cousin's wedding. And boy, she makes a mean apple pie"... that kind of thing.
But, I think, that helps make things a little bit more community-minded. Yesterday afternoon, we went out to ride the "Big Bike" for the Heart and Stroke Foundation, which involves 30 (36?) people all riding this big honking machine that kind of looks like a bicycle... kinda... kind of like a bicycle on steroids, maybe... or maybe like a deformed Tonka truck.. or maybe like an engineering experiment gone wrong... well anyways, we had our little hats made out of coffee filters, windmills and heart-shaped stickers, and our team shirts, and went along our merry little way through town to "It's a Small World after all" and "Itsy bitsy teeny weeny yellow-polka-dot bikini" and yelling all the way along. That wasn't the scary part. The scary part was that people on the bike were yelling hello to specific people through downtown and vice versa. That was scary.
What the heck? I don't go bicycling through downtown TO (well, I don't like deliberately dying, maybe that has something to do with it), yelling hello to people... on the other hand, why would I? I wouldn't know their name from a hole in the ground... :) On the other hand, I don't think I usually look that ridiculous either... (I hope...)
Hope you're all having a wonderful day!
julia

Pembroke II

Well, speaking to some of you, you've come to the realization that, really, I haven't done a heck of a lot up here except for work... on the other hand, in a town whose idea of find dining is East Side Mario's, I'm not fully convinced that there would be much more to do anyways. OK, that's not true. Lots of ppl have boats here, as it sits right on the Ottawa River, and there are ATVs and other semi-outdoor 'sports' (well, and real sports too, however, with my co-ordination skills being what they are, I doubt very much that I'd be up to par with the great A...)
Being very struck by the shortage of docs here (but hey, where isn't there one?). Besides my daily (well, about six-ten times a day) question of "Hey, are you related to Dr. Li? Like maybe his niece or something?", I get a lot more of, "Hey, are you going to come and set up practice here, cause we could really use a few more good doctors...?" That's definitely a problem. Anyways, this isn't going to be a political forum about medicare cause more than half of you don't care... Otherwise, not that much to say... I mean, I have been to TO and Ottawa in the time that I've been up here, so it's not like I've been hanging with the locals... :) (My goodness folks, this has GOT to be the most BORING series ever... snorzzzzzzz) The most exciting thing I've seen, clinically, is a 700-lb person and their 700-lb mother. That's just wrong. They're both in hospital. What a surprise.
OK, this is really pathetic... I'm going to sign off this postcard cause if the best thing I can come up with is a once-upon-a-time circus freaks, then I really have nothing interesting to say...
julia

Pembroke I

Well hello, and here's yet another (interminable) edition of Julia's exploits in far lands (well, OK, admittedly this is probably the most pathetic series since I didn't even leave the province, but stil...), and I wasn't entirely sure if this counts as Part V, of if Ottawa stories count, or if I even wrote anything whilst in Spain (I don't think I did), cause if so, then I might even be up to Part VII...
At any rate, this time I'm not in that strange of a land... Pembroke ON, really, for a month, on a rural rotation, to encourage the good family doctors of the land to move out to Green Acres so that the specialists don't have to (hey! says the peanut gallery, and then re-considers when they realize that's true har de har har :) ).
And, I'm not that far... just about 150km from Ottawa, which takes me that much further from Toronto, so I guess it's far... (not that it's -that- big of deal to ppl, say, like Tracy :) ) For those of you who are new to this series, welcome! And to those of you who are groaning, "Oh man, why does she still keep me on her friggin' list??", well, too bad. :) Hopefully, I'll be able to regale you with tales of strange customs and exotic peoples... right... sorry, no more Swedish OR stories, no camels, no accordions, no baby offerings, no Stampede stories... nothing like that in this series, I'm afraid... this one is unfortunately completely self indulgent, since I have nothing better to do out here :) So, surprisingly, I'm finding myself in a town of 10,000 ppl. It has a hospital, which is currently undergoing a $36 million re-construction with the works. Family docs do most, if not all, the work here (of course). They just got their first CT scanner, which is great, cause they don't have to send cerebellar stroke pts down to Ottawa noe (well, as long as strokes happen during business hours... they have yet to have the techs to run it full time.. plus it's broken down twice in the 48 hours I've been here... weird...) Other than that, I've seen a couple of cows, and two East Asian docs(!).. one of whom is a Dr. Li... you can imagine how many jokes I've gotten about how I'm probably related to Dr. Li.... :) of course, cause that would be logical...
That's about it for now!
Later! Love you all!
julia

Hmmm, group therapy....

It's probably just b/c of the hour, or maybe I just miss y'all, but I think I just needed to share this story with you.
I just admitted a lady who is, of course, in her 80s (cause who else would you admit?). Looks obviously copus mentus, well-groomed, non-neglected. Comes in cause she's confused, forgetful. Totally not like her, as she's not demented.
Neighbour called 911 for her.
Short story to the point: She had a massive R-sided cranial bleed. More blood than brain.
Can you imagine? The lady cannot remember what has happened to her for the past few days, cannot remember where she is, how she got there, or the fact that she saw the ER doc before me who also explained to her what happened to her today.
Can't remember what medications she's taking, can't remember if she has family in the Ottawa area, can't remember anything. It's like her life was wiped out, and all she's left with is her name, cause that's basically all she can remember. Yes, and she's got hemi-neglect, and motor and sensory changes too, and massive visual field losses too. But it's the whole memory thing that bothers me this evening. The whole idea that she won't ever be going home, and that she won't even remember that she once lived there. The fact that we'll probably place her in some nursing home, and she will need to be re-reminded every day as to where she is and why she's there and re-live the horror every day. The fact that in this nursing home, she won't even have the pleasure and the pain of reliving and ruminating through her memories, cause they won't even be there to comfort her.
I think this is the closest that I've felt to feeling bad and wanting to cry on behalf of a patient since residency's begun. I dunno if that's a good thing or a bad thing that it took this long to feel that way for a patient. I think THAT'S the main reason why I'm writing this tonight, that I haven't felt that way for a long time, and I'm wondering why THIS patient on THIS night particularly is getting to me. I'm wondering what happened such that it's not that hard NOT to be affected by people's plights anymore (groan! Another COPDers, another UA, another UGIB, another MI, another anxious patient.... and on and on and on....). Do you guys notice that change too? Do you remember me talking about that in first year? Tim, I know for sure I talked to you about that at length.... about needing to become 'harder' for the sake of our own personal psyches. And I know that I have become much 'harder' in many ways. But maybe it's just that I wasn't that struck hard by just how 'hard' I've become...
Anyways, I'm sorry about rambling. I'm going to try to go to bed before the ER tries to page me again. Sorry about the verbal vomit too...

La belle vie in cafes

Well kids, definitely one of the perks of being out here is that we're only 1 1/2 hours from Montreal. Yes, my hard life in Psychiatry is running me down; I think each of us who went to Montreal plunked down several hundred dollars apiece on Rue St-Catherine (manic symptomatology?), as well as going tete-a-tete with various musiciens quebecois till 2 in the morning... sigh... walking through the streets of Vieux Montreal is -really- stressful :) , especially trying to break the stereotype of the Torontonian who Never goes to Montreal unless they absolutely HAVE to...
But really, I think psychiatry is filled with weirdos (sorry Steph), with the most likely candidate being the guy who was my staff last week. The poor OCD man is also psychotic, thinking it's a good thing to come into work (and his residents too!) at 7:30 am and not leaving the psych ward till about 7 or 8 at night... I would never have imagined actually having to be on Psych service twelve hours a day! That's nutso! Anyways, so the trainees have been busy psycho-analyzing the staff, while learning about psychiatry... I think the poor man derives personal satisfaction from his work alone, to the detriment of every other facet of life... He's an INCREDIBLY great psychiatrist, and even over the four days I was working with him, I could totally see the benefit he imparts to patients, but twelve+ hours a day?!?!?
I think this has taught me that we need to work hard to be excellent, in fact, I think if we don't put in the time, we actually cannot be as excellent as our other colleagues who do work hard. On the other hand, if you put in tons of work, and are an excellent excellent excellent doctor, then who is really the sick one? It makes me wonder...

Greetings from Parliament II

OK, I dunno about you guys, but I had my first medical student encounter where I actually was responsible for one, instead of just working with them. I think he thinks I'm retarded. So here I was in the emerg, minding my own business, about to do call, when I get paged, "Uh, are you the resident on? I'm so-and-so, I'm the medical student on with you this evening." I hang up, and think, GEEZ LOUISE, what am I going to do with him? What on earth did my senior do on team? Am I supposed to see a patient briefly beforehand and triage them to determine if they're stable/simple/educational enough for the student? Am I supposed to let the student report to the staff, or am I supposed to do that? Oh crap, that means I have to teach them something educational... in French... right....
So this lady comes in with a fib and a TIA. I figure, geez, that's probably educational. Go off, young student, go learn on a patient! Page me when you're done... figuring, of course, that maybe he'd finish taking the history and physical and also have written the orders in about an hour. Meanwhile, I find a computer and desperately read up on a fib and TIAs so I'll
have something intelligent to say besides, "Well, what's the target INR?". Meanwhile, the student takes 2 hours and 45 minutes to see the patient, and then comes with half done orders, after which, having reviewed his history and physical (now that was a total laugh, if you were watching me, trying to look all intelligent and asking what else he may have forgotten to ask about or what physical signs he should be looking for...), I had to intelligently explain what else had to be put in there and then CO-SIGN them! After teaching a bit about a fib (which really just came down to telling him what the target INR was
anyways...) and getting that all in order, and making sure that her CT head and CxR were OK, that case took, from when I sent him in to when I was finally free to go see my next consult: 4 1/2 hours. Unbelievable. I don't understand how on
earth our senior residents did it.

Greetings from Parliament I

I didn't realize that this would turn into such a huge chronicle of the many adventures of medical alumni.... :)
Anyways, I'm busy speaking franglais to everyone... and either confusing the francophones or amusing the bilingual patients... Still haven't actually made it to Parliament Hill (figures with all the Canada Day celebrations, Tragically
Hip in town, etc etc and I'm busy admitting non-Q MIs...)
On a more serious note, one of the interns in Ottawa made a very serious suicide attempt over the weekend and is currently in ICU. It's kind of cast a pall on residency as a whole. So, PLEASE guys, take care of yourselves, it's not the first one that I've been kind of connected to, but I would hate for it to get anymore personal than that...

Niger letter

Dear Friends, I have been quite tardy in distributing thanks to many of you for your support and prayers while I was in Niger in April. As you know, I've been out of Toronto, and even Canada, for most of the time that I have returned from Niger, and am now in the midst of a move to Ottawa. It has been quite hectic, and I have yet to have been given the chance to sit and reflect with my Nigerien journal and think back on my experiences properly!
I went to Niger, a culturally Islamic country, from April 3 to April 26, 2002 to work at Galmi Hospital. It is a 100-bed hospital about 500 km east of the capital of Niamey, 17 km north of the Nigerian border, and just south of the Sahara Desert. It was established by SIM Niger in 1950, after lobbying long and hard with the (then) French government to build a mission hospital. After humble beginnings (the hospital was given land in what was, essentially, the middle of nowhere, lacking water, power lines and the like; in fact, Galmi Hospital still lacks a functional, dependent phone line out of the hospital), it now serves about 600 out-patients a day, offers surgical and obstetrical services and runs an emergency department. Most of the staff at the hospital are nationals (163 nationals at last count); only seven to eight missionaries remain full-time, mainly in the form of administrative and physician/surgeon roles.
My role as a medical student was to learn and do, as much as I could and as much as I felt comfortable with. I helped in the out-patient clinics, did some (very) minor surgeries and helped the mid-wives in the obstetrical ward. Overall, it was a whirlwind experience for me, as my limited amount of time at the hospital was dispersed amongst many different medical serivces. I feel like I saw and did much that wouldn't be seen in our 'first-class' medical system here in Canada. It was humbling to see patients with disease that we would never see or deal with in Canada, and even more frustrating when there was very limited therapy that we could offer.
The Nigeriens struck me with their bravery and stoicism. People would travel for days, from miles around, hoping that perhaps Galmi could help them with their problems. How some of them adapted with their symptoms and their pain for months, or even years, before seeing a doctor, astounded me. I realized that I would have gone crying for some medication long before many of them would have even acknowledged that there was something amiss. Nonetheless, people would come from far and wide, even from neighbouring countries, because they knew "sai Galmi (only at Galmi)" could they find an answer.
Galmi Hospital's witness throughout the years is manifest in how it has changes its pocket of the world. When it first begun, it really was in the middle of nowhere. Today, Galmi is a village of about 5000-6000 people. Two churches are present here, with several more within a ten to fifteen minute drive of the hospital. A kindergarten and primary school have been built and are running, while a secondary school is getting off the ground. All have been built and are being taught by the local Christians. Galmi Hospital's reputation is far-reaching and is recognized as one of the best hospitals in the entire country. God is even working amongst the employees of the hospital. The majority of the employees are Christian, but some are not. In particular, a mid-wife named Fatima had been asking about Christianity and wanted to know more over the past year. The hospital director had give her a copy of the Bible, and she was in the midst of reading it while I was at Galmi. Please remember her as she tries to figureout who Jesus is. For a long time, the mid-wives of the hospital have all been Muslim, or at least non-Christian. This will change as some new Christian mid-wife graduates are coming to join the staff at Galmi Hospital within the next few months. Please pray for them that they might be able to make an impact amongst their colleagues in the obstetrical department.
Please remember the missionaries who are at Galmi, particularly Allan Quinn, the hospital director, as well as Drs. Maja Graber, Nick Palmer and Ibrahim Barre. Two other physicians are returning from furlough within the next few months and will help make the work a bit easier when they arrive. Please continue to remember the church in Niger; it is in the minority, but it is there!
Thanks again for all your support and your interest in me! I would love to tell you more, if you'd like, Please don't hesitate to get in contact with me at...

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara VII

Language lesson time!!! Not that I've learned a ton of Hausa since I've been here, but I'll share some of the interesting words that I've learned (not -that- kind of interesting!!!!). Hausa is actually one of the dominant tribal languages in West Africa. It would be a very handy language to learn if you were in this part of the world, although, as one of the missionaries told me, it's not like people are oooooooh impressed with your mastery of Hausa like they would be if you spoke, say, French. Or Arabic.
Sannu (hello; there are some other forms, like when you're speaking to males or females and things, but as I never get the gender pronounciation right, I just keep things simple and just say the gender and age neutral hello)
Lahiya (I'm fine, I'm well, I'm doing OK; this is the right answer to all questions you are asked. For those of you who know that I HATE being asked "How are you?" this takes a bit of teeth-gritting to get through)
kululu (lump, bump, mass. Try saying it fast; it's fun!)
Akwai kululu (there's a bump... in the middle of the log... ha ha ha...)
Ubangiji Allah (LORD God; we usually say this, that way it clearly differentiates Him from the islamic Allah, so none of the patients can be confused as to which God we are referring to)
Aduu'a (prayer - very important word to know on medicine rounds, in the operating room, as well as in church, cause then I know when I'm supposed to bow my head and close my eyes)
That's enough learning for now!
julia
jlee@galmi.sim.ne

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara VI

Bonus two for one in one day! Dear Gina reminded me of this... about how I never pack anything when I go anywhere, so I must be bringing back the equivalent of a fanny pack back... that will likely be true, as I realized that I don't have any 'souvenirs' per se (not that I don't encourage anyone from attempting to pick me up from the airport with allllll my heavy luggage, as my parents told me to take the TTC home from Pearson.... actually, forget it. My parents live closer to Pearson than most of you anyways... ). So, I'm apologizing in advance for lack of gifts. Not that it's not for trying. But it's been kind of hard to buy tourist trap souvenirs, cause, um, tourists don't go to Niger. They mine uranium. That's their big draw. (Whoo, you can see the line-ups now; I went to the uranium mines in Niger and all I got was this lousy T-shirt...). Hyon and Peter warned me that there was a dearth of culture here... no elephant jewellery, no velvet-painted Elvises, no snowman paperweights, no "Niger at night" postcards, no stuffed lions and giraffes at the local Disney Co., no keychains saying "I love Niger", etc. There's even NO McDonalds here in the country (whoo hoo!!! At least one place in the world multinationals have yet to besmirch by getting their tentacles in!)! Admittedly, Nigeriens have a little bit more to worry about than other tourist draws like Kenya or South Africa.... Typical markets offer, um, food. Soap. Unidentifiable animal parts (but I guess that's food too). Flip-flops. Batteries. Razor blades. Basic clothing. Tin cookware. Plastic washbasins. Yup. That's about it. Oh wait, I've also seen books, but that was in the capital. Even though Galmi has a higher proportion of people with literacy and some education (thanks to the schools and the hospital that SIM runs here), I still didn't see anything in the way of written material being sold here. So, as you can see, I'm kind of limited... well, at least they won't have to stop me at customs and ask me if I have anything to declare... ""why yes, in fact, I have a beaten tin pot that I was hoping to smuggle in, I believe it's worth about three dollars... actually, what about this stick? I picked it off the ground...")
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara V

I got lali-ed yesterday. That's a traditional foot-colouring procedure/ceremony/thing. They use henna, along with cinder ash and ammonia salts to produce this burning sensation on your feet to paint them black. It looks neat on African women, but it's kind of dramatic (like in the scary way) on my pale pale pale skin (did you get the sense that I'm rather pale? I thought I had gotten a bit of a tan, but I still look like I'm incredibly anemic and I'm going to die. I can understand why they think I'm a white person. I am :) ). Now my feet are black and orange, and where the dye didn't hold so well, kind of bluey-green. I'm not sure how long its supposed to last, and I keep on forgetting that I had it done, so I glance down at my feet and wonder why the heck they're so filthy. Makes me think of the engineering tradition with the purple dye (although I only stuck in my arms at that point!)
In other news (although maybe only interesting to Nancy :) )... I haven't eaten so much ice cream in such a short period of time before! I guess there needn't of been any worries about ice cream shortages in the desert... :)
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara IV

A few male-female observations:
1. Women always follow behind men when they walk, never (OK, that's a bit strong; maybe rarely is a better word) side by side. I think it may take me a while to get used to that again (yes, Peter, I'm learning how not to be an unruly woman, aren't you proud of me?)
2. Grown men hold hands while walking down the street. That's normal. I suspect some of you might feel a bit queasy about doing that with your friends... :) I must admit, even to me, that looks a bit odd...
3. Women do not shake hands with men. That's considered being easy. That's a bit difficult when everyone wants to 'touch the white lady' (which has only caused me problems once). The only exception I've found to that rule is in the church amongst Christians, where I am allowed to shake brothers' hands. Although men and women sit on opposite sides of the church, so I still haven't quite gotten my head around who's doing what where.
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara III

I was offered a baby today. I've been offered a couple of husbands, but this is my first baby. Mom got excited when she heard I was from Canada. (Sorry, a bit of medical jargon coming up). It's about two weeks old, 2.6 kg, and it hasn't cried at all since it was born. No Moro, no grasp reflex anywhere, no rooting, barely a sucking reflex. Just breathing. Contracted limbs. Labour was apparently prolonged, about a day or so. We assumed cerebral hypoxia. Baby didn't even react when we were pinching it on the limbs. (OK, medical jargon over).
I mean, my reasoning that 'pas de mari' (no husband) was accepted as a pretty good reason for not taking it, but it was still hard... especially as she had hoped... I think I need to think a little bit more...
Sorry about the downer...
julia

Postcards from the Edge of the Sahara II

Well, if you could possibly believe it, it's actually gotten hotter out here today. I don't understand how that is rationally possible. My air-cooler is now blowing out air, cause it can't sustain the temperature gradient necessary to blow cool air. (Here's a funny story, just for Swong, although I'm sure my family will appreciate it too, and likely agree ;) ...)
This morning, I went out to a village while some nurses were doing vaccinations. Unfortunately, it was the first time quite a lot of the little ones had seen someone as pale as me in their lives. I think they must've thought I was some sort of mutant African or something, because they just kept staring and staring. Some babies and toddlers even started crying (I didn't know I was -that- hideous!) and wouldn't stop until they were taken away from my view (after which they got their vaccination and started crying again. Oh well. At least I didn't give any needles; could you imagine the trauma to the children... this pale white mutant monster with slanty eyes comes and bites children with needles, and even your mother can't protect you from it!!!) It was quite strange. I felt like an animal in a zoo or something. Or maybe a movie star... no wait.... zoo animal is probably more likely... I can't believe I made children cry.... maybe it's a good thing I didn't end up going into paediatrics... :)
julia