I began writing this blog entry about 5 days before I left Tanzania, not knowing of course what was to sadly happen to me on my second to last day. While my lasting memories of Tanzania are nothing more than my vicious attack, I want to remind myself that Tanzania is a country I grew very fond of and over 6 weeks I met some amazing people, and experienced things that have changed me forever (in a good way).
Here are some final reflections of a country that I will remain close to my heart.
By far the most difficult thing I had to adjust in Tanzania was the concept of African time. In Tanzania, it seems time is not a precious commodity, but instead something that seems never-ending. People spend their days just mooching about. Tardiness is something the Tanzanians have mastered. Whether it be meeting friends in town, waiting for food to arrive at a restaurant, or how they wander down the street, pole pole (slower than slow) is certainly the common theme. If someone says they’ll be there in 5 minutes, forget it – you’ll still be waiting 3 hours later. Don’t ever arrive at a restaurant hungry, because by the time you get your food you’ll have eaten the chair you’re sitting on. And don’t ever expect to arrive at a destination at the time it should take. Always add at least an hour or more on to any journey, even if it is only a 15 minute walk down the street! I honestly think the giant tortoises on Prison Island moved faster than some people I’ve encountered in Arusha.
But through all the frustration and times when I’ve really felt like screaming at some of these people, it has taught me a thing or two about how I live my life. These people aren’t ever stressed out about being late or how long it takes to get absolutely nothing done – they’re some of the happiest people I have ever come across. So if I take nothing else away from Africa, I’ll at least learn to try and not be in such a hurry, and live in the moment.
Nothing ever prepared me for what I was to witness at St Elizabeth Hospital, but I have grown so much as a person through every experience and patient I was so privileged to meet and help treat. I will never forget my mornings spent on ward rounds, and afternoons in outpatient clinics, with a group of doctors and nurses that do such a tremendous job with so little. Resources are more basic than you could ever imagine, machines more outdated than me, and drugs so limited in both their supply and type. Yet, by what can only be described as a facility so primitive and outdated it’s like stepping into a time warp, stems a hospital filled with passionate staff and the most gracious patients I will ever encounter in my medical career. Sharing a bed with 3 other patients doesn’t faze these people. They are just grateful to receive any care at all. The level of knowledge taught to medical students in Tanzania is nothing more than a reflection of the medicine that is practised - it is simple but for the most part effective. Simple in terms of how a person is diagnosed, and simple in the treatment they eventually receive. I have witnessed more cases of HIV, tuberculosis, malaria, witch medicine, surgery with ketamine as the only anaesthetic agent offered, female genital mutilation, child birth and all its complications, wound debridement, dysentery, pneumonia, malnourishment, renal failure, anaemia, and death than I ever thought possible in 6 short weeks. I have at times felt completely out of my depth, and in despair at not being able to do anything for these patients. And I walk away minus one set of scrubs (I gifted them my pair so they at least have one matching set in their cupboard) and so extremely humbled by each and every person I have met along the way. I will never forget St Elizabeth Hospital, what it has taught me about medicine and being a doctor, and what it means to be a foreigner in an African hospital. You cannot change the world, but you most certainly can help change the lives of a handful of people and if nothing else I hope I have at least achieved that!
If having daily cold showers from a bucket, no electricity for 20 hours a day, being pursued by mosquitoes day and night despite lathering one’s self in insect repellent so strong it would deter even the most hardy person, being coated in a layer of dust so thick you could be mistaken for a local, eating the most awful peanut butter on stale white bread for breakfast every morning, or being crammed into a dala dala so tight you can’t feel your backside after 5 minutes is your idea of fun then look no further than Tanzania! Because my life for 6 weeks had been exactly that. And I wouldn’t have wanted to change it for the world. Ok, maybe a hot shower once a week would have been nice. But in all honesty, what I have experienced is nothing short of hilarious at best, and humiliating at worst. The constant barrage of unnecessary comments and stares from men on the street, made bearable by the hospitality of my incredible host family is what made my time in Tanzania so fascinating. The contrasts were at times incomprehensible. Snippets of Western civilisation emerging from the dust-laden tin shacks, as people attempt to adapt to the ever-changing environment that surrounds them. Advances in technology have at times been more of a hindrance than a benefit. People are expected to adapt to such changes, much like leaping from the abacus to the computer overnight without first learning their times tables. It is simply not feasible. The Tanzanians continue to tolerate corruption and bribery as though it is a normal part of living. Money buys everything in this country, including your way out of a roadside encounter with a police officer. I will not miss the chaos that is life in Tanzania, and I will most certainly not miss the absence of even the most basic amenities of life that I am so accustomed to and enjoy without even thinking about. But I will miss the beautiful countryside, the culture and the simplicity that life in this country has taught me.
