It's starting to get a bit more hot nowadays. I don't quite know the degree, but let's just note that it's squarely in the range between "Always Sweaty" and "Ouch". It has come to my attention that rather than sprawl out on my mat hoping for a crosswind, there is a perfectly fine roof on top of the clinic, with a more than comfortable blacktop bed. The migration to what surely must be the top of the village, this being the tallest two story building, concludes a full day of horticulture, hymns, and head injuries.
Today I awoke to the sound of the well being pumped outside my room. Groggy and a bit disoriented from my deep but sweaty slumber, I shuffled outside to find Loxmi and Yamuna digging with a swift and precise movement. They were starting an irrigation system next to the untapped earth behind our clinic walls. Greeting me with the normal "Boy!" I grabbed a hoe and started churning soil. The earth, seemingly paradoxical considering the lack of rain, is incredibly fertile. In a few hours before the clinic doors opened, we constructed and planted a sizable garden with tomatoes, ocra, cucumbers, and many vegetables whose names I cannot tell you.
One of the regular children visitors did not have school today and walked in with his mother. Like many other days we chatted, the child translating, and enjoyed some tea. Unfortunately with calmness and purpose his mom informed me that this visit she would also like me to "heal her". The woman, about 45 years old explained the pain in her left breast. Right away I was able to find a concerning mass. Informing her of my inability to make an accurate diagnosis, yet revealing my worries, I convinced her to take the trip to the nearest hospital. Luckily she was making her monthly trip out that way soon and it would not be too much trouble for her to stop by and get further imaging or biopsy. Both family members were grateful and appreciative, neither outwardly stressed.
The rest of the day was slow, only a few patients here and there with common symptoms of acute, non threatening illness. The fun started at nightfall. One of the boys I had sewn up a few days before came by with his mother and invited us to their house for some singing. Jumping at the invitation and walking down the street, we were welcomed by a group, about 15 people of all ages beating drums, drinking some beverages, and singing some sort of upbeat, bravado hymns. The fire in the center of the circular festivity drew on a nearby wall, shadows of dancing and drum beating. Not knowing at all what I was doing, I joined in, dancing movements that clearly required practice and singing words I could not pronounce or understand. That was a whole goat load of fun.
Fed, entertained, and again sweaty, I made my way back home. It was very late, thus very dark. The stars here are bright and beautiful. Sleeping on the roof looked like a very good idea during that walk back. It was. I hauled up my thin straw mat, a mosquito net and a sheet. Preparing to collapse into a slumber, I heard some voice down by the front enterance. My headlamp shone on the faces looking up at me. A boy and his parents. Meeting them by the doorway I saw the blood running down the boy's face, his hand covering a wound. I let them in and called around to see if any of the staff were around. They weren't, probably home and asleep. He was a shy kid who most likely never played rough in his 9 year old life. From what I gathered, which is suspect due to the language, he threw a glass soda bottle in the air which came crashing down on his upwardly gazing forehead. I think he knew more English than he originally let on, because when I brought out the suture materials, he said sweetly, "is there no other solution?" There wasn't, although it was clean and not complicated, he required a few stitches. He never flinched during the procedure. Using my headlamp, I brought over the parents to see that he was fine and the wound closed nicely.
I fell asleep to what will surely be the first of many on the cool roof. Mosquito net propped up with string and brick, stars glimmering through the webbing, and the hordes of goat, chickens, cows, and buffalos saying their very audible goodnights.
