Sickness

"The wind is in from Africa and last night I couldn't sleep.
Oh, you know, it sure is hard to leave you, Carey,
But it's really not my home.
My fingernails are filthy, I've got beach tar on my feet,
And I miss my clean white linens and my fancy French cologne."

-Joni Mitchell


January 6, 2009

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night and thought I had been hit by a truck. My whole body hurt including my head which was pounding. I was tangled in my mosquito net and thought I had wet the bed before I realized it was just sweat. In the morning, I crawled to the living room to take my temperature- 102 F. Where did this come from?

I crawled back to bed where I spent the entirety of Tuesday. PCVs had always told me that the worst is to be at site and be sick. This is because you are basically alone and the daily tasks like cooking, and bathing are next to impossible. I always miss my mom, but when I am sick it is time to revert to being a child. I pictured myself little at the house I grew up in. Curled up on the flowered couch in my flannel pajamas and under a blanket. My mom would come in with what she called "Tincture" a concoction of herbs, honey and tea. Both my sisters would be hanging out on the leather couch and blue chair watching whatever movie we had going. Smokey, our little grey, cat is curled on my stomach. There are no boys... after all there was a time when our house was quiet before I had brothers... haha. But soon my Dad comes home from work and kisses me on the forehead and asks if I am better. But there is none of this so I lay looking up at my mosquito net and crawl to take my temperature again. (Standing up makes me feel like I am going to vomit.) Now it is only 98.2 F and I am freezing.

I put on every piece of clothing I own and get under all my blankets. Even my towel for good measure. I want tea but that is work to heat water. I shiver for a few hours and then sleep and wake up all sweaty again. Temperature: 103.8 F Whoa! I get out this super handy (and somewhat terrifying) book, "Where There is No Doctor." Which confirms what I already know, a fever that rises and falls dramatically with a headache is either a virus or Malaria. At any rate we are supposed to contact PC if we have a temp that high. They tell me to monitor it because Malaria is weird and can go into hiding where some days you feel fine, but a fever that comes and goes for a week or more should be treated like Malaria.

Well I am sitting there sweating, Juster and Katherine come by because they have been working on the farms but realize they and no other villagers have seen me that day. I must look pretty bad because as soon as Juster sees me she pushes Katherine back like I have the plague. This is a good idea though, as she is only a child and if what I have is contagious, it would be bad for her. Juster tells her to get Rosina and Imelda (the girls who we are supporting in school,) to start boiling water. She tells me to bathe when they bring the water and she will bring dinner for me and my cat who have not eaten all day. Then, reassuringly (She thinks), she tells me she will not let me die. Oh good.

She comes back later with the head teacher and half of the primary school teachers. They have tea and rice and beans. I am not hungry at all but am grateful for the tea. When eat a good amount but tell them I am full they all yell at me "Kula, Brie!" "Brie, Kula!" (Eat!) Then they beg me to eat just one handful more and I feel like a little child who is being naughty at dinnertime. Finally, when I refuse, Juster tells me in English that I will die if I do not eat that day. Haha... clearly she does not understand American fat reserves, I think I could go two weeks without eating and not have a problem. Then she says that if I die they are going to bury me at the school and write "Here is our Mzungu, Brie." (Gee, Thanks.) They insist someone should spend the night there to care for me, but I insist just as strongly that I only need to rest and I will come out in the morning so they know I am okay.

The next morning at the oh so late hour of 6 am there is Hodi-ing at my door. I wrap myself in a blanket and answer the door to 5 villagers who are checking to see if I died in the night. Luckily, I feel surprisingly better although, not in the clear yet. Days later, still drained but no fever, so I am assuming just something working through my system. Every sickness here is caused by feces to mouth (mmm...) or mosquitoes, so it is not like there is some big mystery... just dirty living. But all this talk about death, which I never once felt near to, made me realize how quickly and unexpectedly people go here. How familiar my villagers are with it. I have never been to a funeral in America, I have lost count with how many I have been to here. For Tanzanians, death is real.