sick day

It shouldnt be a surprise that Im sick, and yet, it is. Im sick! With a nasty sore throat and now sinus and chest congestion. Blech. So I stayed home from clinic last night and this morning to rest. However, i hardly slept because I was COLD last night and so congested. Blech.

On the other hand, it affords me some time to sit and type and reflect on my first week here.

I live with four other American midwives and midwives-in-training and three(?*) Senegalese people in a four room cinderblock house in Mboro, two and a half hours from Dakar. Our little house has foam mats for sleeping on and windows with shutters and torn linoleum floors. There is even a television that gets some fuzzy reception when there is electricty (which there usually is). We have an outhouse with a squat toilet and an "American style" toilet --except theres no seat and it doesnt flush, and a shower head which gets unheated running water from about midnight until 6am.
*more on this shortly

Every morning we are brought breakfast of a baguette and margarine or their version of nutella, and we supplement this with our own tea, coffee, cheese, and as of yesterday, eggs hardboiled in our tea kettle over the little propane stove we were provided. Its fancy camping, basically. I brush my teeth next to a spigot which is surrounded by beat up plastic jugs of water that are filled when the water runs and wash my hands with a bar of soap and a plastic tea kettle. To do my "business" I generally opt for the seatless toilet as I still tend to pee all over myself in the squat and I rinse myself with a plastic squeeze bottle I brought from home for the occasion. I havent used toilet paper once because there is none. Every now and again, I feel grungy enough to take a bucket shower which, it turns out, is exactly what is sounds like: I dump a bucket of cold water over my head, soap and shampoo, and dump another bucket over my head. It takes the breath out of me with the cold, but its surprisingly functional. I am also surprised at how quickly Ive adapted to feeling gross. I havent seen myself in a mirror since Spain.

In the mornings, we split up into two groups to do prenatals at one of the three clinics we are helping here. We reconvene for lunch, take the afternoon to ourselves and then one group goes to spend the night at a clinic and do prenatals there the next morning. Or, at least, thats the idea. It hasnt been quite as smooth so far.

We are quickly amassing a cast of characters:
Jake, midwife from Hollywood and our fearless leader
Tara, newly minted midwife from Boston
Nicole, student from Oregon and about to take her license exam
Heather, a student from outside Boston who is just starting her studies
Dr and Madame Sarr own our house, and Dr Sarr runs a respected medical clinic a few blocks away. Madame is a nurse and runs the Mboro 2 clinic which is one of the clinics where we are working.
Madeline and Soloman live with us at "the ranch." Madeline is the Sage-Femme (a higher trained midwife who completed several years of schooling) at Dr. Sarrs clinic, and Soloman is an architecture student and the great nephew (we think) of Dr. Sarr.
The goats also live with us at the ranch.
A mystery boy who I *think* lives with us, whose name I do not know because every time I try to talk to him, he laughs shyly and doesnt respond. He feeds the goats and I think sleeps in the room with Soloman.
Etienne 1 picked us up from the airport and is charge of all our financial matters like paying for a taxi to take us to and from the clinics, and the cleaning woman who comes occasionally to help us with things like laundry.
Sergey the funny ambulance driver for Mboro 2 (a beat up Subaru station wagon with "Ambulance" painted on the side) who often shows up at odd times and teases me mercilessly and continually asks Tara to marry him.
Etienne 2, a young man who was apparently hired to guard us during the day and sits in our front yard and doesnt say much.
The Sage-Femmes are the midwives in charge at the various clinics.
The Matrons are the midwives who work for the Sage-Femmes, and have only a few months training before beginning their work.

Its a lot!

Every morning, at dawn, the first call to prayer is sung by the Muezzin. Prayers are observed 5 times a day here: at dawn, noon, midday, sunset, and an hour after sunset. The call is made by people walking the streets or from loudspeakers on the corner or in cars and is sung out. It was very creepy to me the first time I heard -this loud disembodied Islamic singing, especially the first time it woke me at dawn. Im used to it now, but it is definitely a strange thing for me... everything closes during prayers, which means basically everything stops 5 times a day here.

Most people here speak Wolof, a native language, but there are other native dialects spoken here so even knowing Wolof is not a guarantee of communication. Many people also speak French, but not as many as speak Wolof. I am muddling by with my limited French and what I am picking up of Wolof. People here are VERY friendly and seem genuinely pleased when we respond to their Wolof greetings in Wolof. Im getting less shy about trying it, and almost always get amused laughs when I say "Jerijeff" which means thank you.

Lunch time is around 2pm and Soloman, who takes his lunch at Mboro 2 clinic, brings us back a serving bowl of whatever the cook has prepared. Usually it is rice, root vegetables, and some fish. Occassionally, instead of rice we are given french fries. Dinner is served around 9:30 or 10pm and is more of the same. I am adept from this trip to holding my nose most of the time --in the clinics, in the toilets, and while I eat. Surprisingly, my spirits are good even with a sort of bleak food situation. Its temporary, and probably better for me than what I eat at home.

My first night here I discovered that I am the bug beacon and I shared my bed with at least one terrifying monster. I spent most of the night cold and awake in abject terror with my legs curled under me into a tight ball, afraid to stretch back onto the lower half of my mat, or touch the sheet I had been sleeping under. In the morning, I found three dead bugs next to my bed: a FAT spider that looked like a minature tarantula, a gigantic cockroach (maybe?) and a critter that looked like a cross between a wasp and a banana. Since then, Ive slept in the net tent someone was kind enough to lend me for the trip. Everyone else has been well served by the mosquito nets that hang over our beds, but I draw the line at bugs that look like bananas. Im also the only one getting eaten alive by mosquitos. DEET does nothing to deter those beasts. Grasshoppers, flies, and GIANT beetles are all very fond of flinging themselves DIRECTLY at my head at night (why? why does it have to be my FACE?!!) but Ive gotten pretty desensitized to it. Terrifying monsters or no, this is the hand Ive been dealt and I had better suck it up and make the best of it for the next three weeks. The Sage-Femmes and Matrones tell laboring women here "Masa3 meaning basically, buck up. So Masa, girl. Masa.

Still havent found the apostrophe.

Love and miss you all,
L