Malawi is certainly testing my love for it early on in my trip.
The first hurdle which had to be overcome was actually getting here with the correct cases. My friend and project co-ordinator, Emma 1, was my travelling companion joining me on the Megabus at Preston. Things were all a bit hectic, leaving it tight to make our booked taxi as the bus arrived late. In the rush shed managed to pick up the wrong suitcase and you can imagine her horror later that night when she opened it to find woolly jumpers and high heels, great for going to a rural area in the middle of Africa! After a few hours of hysterics (no idea why it was so funny) and a panicked call to my mum, we had to call it quits and hope for better news in the morning.
Thankfully our flight was at 8pm the next day so when the news arrived that the owner of the jumpers had returned Emmas case we had plenty of time to travel all the way back across London to make the switch.
It appeared that our bad luck was over and done with but little did I know that this was only Emmas and that mine was still very much to come
My bad luck started on my second night in Malawi. Previously, volunteers lived in a compound with Mama and Papa who helped take care of us by doing little things such as bringing us hot water in the morning and helping us cook our meals at night, they became somewhat of a second family during my trip last year and Ive missed them a great deal since being back in Scotland. This year the volunteers are staying at the newly constructed orphanage where there are currently 20 orphan girls living there, a place they can now call home. Although different from my last experience, I understand that Mama and Papa need to have space to get on with their own lives and not have to worry about taking care of up to 35 volunteers as well as their own family.
Unfamiliar with the orphanage layout I managed to fall down a drain while heading out to the kitchen area to help cook dinner, and subsequently hurt both feet. Clumsy Emma strikes again! Being a dancer and slightly accident prone, Ive had my fair share of injuries and was able to tell that my right foot was just a bad sprain but I was more than sure that I had done something much worse to my left foot. The next morning I couldnt even put weight on it and knew that a hospital visit couldnt be avoided.
A word of advice for anyone coming to Malawi – do your best to avoid getting sick on the weekends as it seems that although government hospitals are technically open the staff just dont show up, as I was soon to discover.
I injured myself on the Friday night so my hospital visit started on the Saturday morning. We started off by going to the closest hospital that would have an x-ray machine, Malosa hospital. They brought out a very unsteady looking wheelchair and took me straight in to see the doctor. After a lot of hilarity with Emma and Eileen trying to push me along the bumpy ramps without accidentally tipping me out (definitely not wheelchair friendly) he sent me straight to x-ray. This would have been fine if the building wasnt completely empty and all locked up, typical Malawi! We were told to wait as he would be here soon but the minutes ticked by and still no show from Mr X-ray man. Eileen managed to find out that he was in town for lunch and that he had been requested but they werent sure how long he would be. All three of us, having spent long periods in Malawi, were able to decipher that this really meant that he wouldnt be coming so off to Zomba hospital we went, much bigger and busier as it is located in the old capital.
If I thought the last wheelchair was bad
This one only had three out of the four wheels remaining and if I leant too far to the left or took a corner too fast then the full thing would topple over. Melvin the taxi driver was a little gem and wheeled me around the hospital, this was even less wheelchair friendly than Malosa and with a barely functioning wheelchair I nearly ended up doing even more damage to my foot. I do find it amazing that things that we most certainly take for granted in hospitals in the UK, just dont seem to exist here – smooth ground, wheelchair ramps and an actual wheelchair that can function without causing further injury. We were directed to the plaster room and I was told that he would put a plate on my foot and then Id go for an x-ray. The man proceeded to pull out plaster cast and make a solid cast under my foot and up the back of my leg before strapping it altogether with bandages, all the time giving us a lecture on how they are short of bandages and that we should have brought our own. It wasnt till he had finished and was walking out the door that he casually mentioned that the x-ray guy wasnt in today and to come back on Monday. We asked why he had strapped up my foot and told us that I would go for x-ray and his reply, I do not know myself. Great, another brick wall wed just hit. Melvin, God love him, tried to speak sense into him and managed to get him to phone and request for the x-ray man to come in. We waited for at least an hour or two, continuously being told he is on his way before we were finally told that he was too far away and that we would just need to come back on Monday.
Back to Malosa we headed, on the off chance that the x-ray guy who was in town for lunch had returned. No such luck. Malawians seem to tell you what you want to hear and not necessarily the full truth as once again we were told to wait as he was on his way. When daylight began to fade we knew that we had to call it quits and head back to the village.
The next day, Sunday, we made the decision to head to the much larger and richer city of Blantyre to go to the private hospital. I chose not to wait until Monday as I was worried that if there was a break or fracture, I didnt want my bones to heal in the wrong place. The hospital in Blantyre is such a stark contrast to the overcrowded, understaffed and under equipped hospitals in the more rural areas. The difference is that I had to pay for my treatment by going private, expensive to a Malawian but reasonable for me. The full process was fast, under an hour, and I was able to leave safe in the knowledge that I have no broken bones, just some soft tissue damage.
My experience with Malawian hospitals has been enough to last me a lifetime, I hope I wont need to attend one ever again, especially on weekends! Im now able to fully appreciate the healthcare system we have in place back in the UK and dont think Ill ever be able to complain again about waiting 4 or 5 hours to be seen. The entire time I just kept thinking what the situation would be like if this happened to one of the locals from a rural village. They wouldnt be able to afford the luxury of a taxi, like me, to transport them back and forward to the hospitals and they wouldnt be able to pay to go all the way to Blantyre to the private hospital. Im not sure what I would have done if I was in that situation and it really does highlight one of the many problems people face in this country.
As much as this event has taken over my first few weeks, I cant help but still love the country. Its my special little place and no matter the difficulties it throws my way, I am unbelievably happy to be back and helping out again. The little orphans that live with us certainly help me remember exactly why I am here and help keep that smile on my face every day. Since I cant walk I have taken to sorting out First Aid lessons for the schools and villages and will bring more news about that in the months to come. I also managed to make it to the new school that Tikondwe has built to paint the walls and make it more child friendly, a task that was enjoyable as well as hugely rewarding.
Lets just hope that my bad luck is over and I can start to work hard to helping the wonderful villagers that surround me and get back to teaching in the schools.
