The Mess comprises one long room (shown in the picture of a few days ago) and a kitchen bolted on with a laundry 'shed' out the back. Entering is like going back in time because, whilst someone has clearly dusted occasionally in the last 50 years, no one has done a clear out of 'stuff'. The laundry is full of clothes from people long gone - this could be a blessing as I might be able to come by some scrubs there and not have to wear the 'Property of the US Army' dress again [Geoff will add a photo when he's sorted himself out].
The dining room is full of old books and pieces of paperwork - mostly very battered. The other night I picked up a postcard that someone had written from Innsbruck to their father in the UK. I wondered how it had got there - surely if you'd bothered to bring it all the way to Zambia you cared enough to take it home? Then I spotted the date - August 1980!!! The postcard is older than I am - who knows how long it has lain there!
The three types of people in the Mess
Doctors (and their hangers on)
You have heard about Nat (and Will), Fi, Rory and Geoff but there are a few others here. Amy and Dylan are a couple from New Zealand who are doing O&G and Medicine, respectively. She has finished the equivalent of F2 (2 years post degree) and he is ST3 (5 years post). There is also a chap called Hamish (his photo was in another post) who is the same year as Amy and doing Medicine.Before we arrived, Dylan and Hamish had been solely in charge of the Medical wards. There are two Zambian doctors with a similar level of (but arguably more relevant) experience who covered the paediatrics ward and special care baby unit (SCBU) but that was it!!
So, until last week I was the oldest person in the Mess. Not that I think that anyone other than me realised this to be the case... Then Sue arrived. Sue is a soon-to-be-retired Paediatrician from Leeds. I'm not sure what she was expecting but I doubt it was that she'd arrive and discover she was the only fully trained Medic (and she'd have 5 people asking her advice on diseases she isn't overly familiar with), that SCBU would be full of really sick children, that she'd be asked to be 'Safeguarding Doctor' to all the women and children who'd been abused, that there'd be no constant source of water in her house and she wouldn't have anything to eat... because Sue is coeliac (gluten intolerant) and the men in the Mess kitchen don't really understand what that means. So when she couldn't eat the tart they'd cooked, they offered her bread rolls..... Without a fridge she couldn't even keep the gluten-free bread mix she'd brought with her fresh. Then the internet didn't work so she couldn't contact her husband. But, things are on the up - she's discovered that Nshima tastes better than gluten free bread and the internet now works most days. [The internet in question here is the hospital WiFi, we are using our own 3G set-up, which we offered to let her use...]
Medical Students
There are a number of medical students here at all times. Predominantly from the UK, Germany and Netherlands. I get the impression that the vibe in the Mess will change as the students change - they do really make the atmosphere.The first to leave (tomorrow) will be the two Dutch girls (whose house we are taking). For the first few days we didn't know both their names, only that one was called Marika. Then Jamie (UK student) had the inspired idea to ask them how you spell their names. Result - the other is Marieta. Not that it was all good for Jamie, he's one of those people who can't help but tell you what they think (I'm sure you all know someone like that, ahem) and then is too stubborn to back down. He told Marika that she sounded like Bart Simpson. When it was still a bone of contention a few days later his only comment was 'I've thought about it again and I still stick to my original view!'
Andreas is a stereotypical German, who apologises for being stereotypically German but doesn't tolerate being teased very well. Simon, on the other hand, is much more amenable to the laughing when he says Willage, Wolleyball and Wiser (Visa!). He is also very sweet. His friend lost his mobile phone on a visit and Simon rang it the next day. The person that answered said he'd bring the phone back in an hour. 'You'll never see that phone again Simon' 'Why not? the man said he would bring it! Why would he lie?' Aaahh, the innocence of youth.
Rachel, Rachel and Peter are from Edinburgh and are the ones beset by spiders. A man came to fix their loo and they enquired whether it would be possible for him to fix their shower too. 'Your shower isn't broken, it's a water pressure problem' 'But, the others have had working showers this week!' 'No, they haven't, no one in the hospital has had a shower for 2 weeks!' 'Yes, they have'...... As she re-told this story I helpfully pointed out that I was fresh from a lovely hot shower taken in my place, not 30m from theirs!
The remainder are Chema (a Dutch surgical student), Julie (Danish) and Anita (Dutch).
Visitors
There are also a number of visitors to the hospital that come and go. At the moment there is a group from Christian Aid, some of whom are here for 6 weeks. This meant that the other night there were 27 people in the Mess but only cutlery for 24.They also change the atmosphere. They are all retired and all but one are 'civilians' [non-medics].
I first met this use of 'civilians' when Geoff started clinical at Oxford. A large group of us was going out for a curry and I was singled out as being the only civilian present. Later it transpired that the civilian knew more about the principles of anaphylaxis and its treatment than the medical students - no more was I a civilian. Even here some of the others have expressed surprise at my ability to listen to and then join in on the conversations about the patients with sensible comments and a clear understanding. My medical degree by proxy is serving me well!
But I digress, with a bunch of old people in the Mess, dinner is quieter and more subdued. No longer can we discuss the 'Case of the day' down the table, nor make some of the jokes we'd gotten used to, for fear of offending.
Four of the men are helping to paint the new OPD and the remainder are doing missionary work at the school and women's union. We begin to question whether some of the work they are doing wouldn't be better done by locals - the flight and board costs of the 4 could be employing 12 locals to do the painting, thus improving the local economy.
At Tiko's the surgical team (including the Prof) is discussing the impact of their presence on the Mess (like people having to eat off their knees and share cutlery). I point out quietly that 3 of them are on the next table so we should talk quietly. Chema has had a couple of beers and his volume switch is not working "And!, the old people are really noisy at breakfast"'Chema!' I whisper, and point at the table. "Oh! Why didn't you tell me they were there??" 'I did, a few minutes ago' "I am so sorry, I didn't see you there..." I am reminded of the story of a British diplomat who did something similar in a hotel in Japan. The phrase he used was 'how unfortunate'. I have tried this often but I think you need the words that came after that bit, the how unfortunate never quite makes it all right. Then the Prof pipes up 'Who are you calling old? I'm 60! Does that make me old?' 'Yes! Old is anyone over 35', I say. Chema corrects me '25 actually'. I give him a death stare 'No, it's 35!' Dr Joop laughs 'I get the impression that the definition keeps changing'. 'How did you know? it's only recently increased to 35'.
Once the old people have left we discover how they are noisy at breakfast (how noisy can toast be?). It turns out that they get up at 6am and do Pilates and then come to breakfast all bubbly and full of the joys of spring. Oscar Wilde comes to mind 'Only dull people are brilliant at breakfast'.
Lastly, the longest serving member of the Mess is Tiger. A highly intelligent dog of unknown pedigree with mostly ginger fur and one large white stripe. He is always at dinner and keen to poke his nose under your arm to try and get to your plate. He has learnt to open the door and gets cross if we deliberately hold it shut. The other afternoon he was visiting Amy and Dylan when Dylan accidentally locked him in their house. When Amy got home he'd settled himself on the comfy armchair but had become wedged and needed lifting out!! Perhaps not that intelligent then
Things that go bump in the night
There are plenty of things that go bump in the night but last night we used the cover of darkness for our own purposes. Anita is ill (weak, dizzy, unable to stand, fever of 38.4), the medical students claimed it was all fine because she was eating and had started to drink again (after nothing in the morning). The rest of us felt that this was a marked decline in someone who'd been fit and healthy the day before - so we sent Nat and Fi to do an out of hours home visit. We hope it's either heatstroke or malaria - we can treat those!Whilst the other girls were busy we moved a bedframe and sofa from our house to Fi and Rory's. This did attract the attention of our neighbours but they didn't come to say anything. The sofa was easy to get into the new place because the door opens into the living room but the bedframe was more tricky. It had to be negotiated round a 90 degree bend into the narrow hallway of the house. For a goodly while it was wedged diagonally between the bathroom doorframe and living room door. Eventually we succeed and return to Nat and Will's where the girls have made tea, including a Rooibos for me..... [Yes, I know that I don't drink tea but I'm using the 'Special Circumstances' exemption normally used solely for times when it would be socially awkward not to drink tea, normal service will be resumed when I get back]
The incident with the iPad
Rory has brought their iPad over because Will has a Sim card for it. I'm not sure I recognised it as an iPad at first glance. It looked like a prototype made out of Lego and about an inch larger in every dimension. Even the screen looked odd!This case, says Rory, is shockproof, waterproof, scratch proof, child proof (I might have added that) and idiot proof (yes, more liberties on my part). We look on as he tries to extricate the iPad. His tongue has come out early on but doesn't seem to be helping. We begin to wonder if it's possible to remove it or if somehow it's a permanent attachment. 'Can I try?' says Fi. 'No'. More minutes pass, we are mesmerised. Fi tries again, 'No!'. I note that we've become so comfortable with each other that we are now prepared to have domestics in front of the others. The rest of us are hooked. 'Rory, please can I try, the others are staring at us now. Would you lot talk amongst yourselves?' Ha ha, nope. We can call Relate for you if you'd like?? Soon the giggling is uncontrollable.
Eventually he manages to free it and the Sim card works. I wonder how long it took him to put it all back together!
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