Africa Time

What a day. Man alive I am narked off. I went to Mthatha. And I came back. Except it took about 9 hours in total. Achievements to hours ratio was extremely low. I do have 4 new tires on my car but totally failed to get all the pre-school stuff i wanted, so... I am going back to Mthatha tomorrow.

Mthatha is a hole. Leaving anything of value in a car is asking for trouble so shopping, if you have to go to more than one shop, becomes a logistical nightmare. As it is an hour and ¾ away, you need to plan well in advance and get a lot done when you are there, or it means 3 and a half hours another day.

Today we wanted to scope out some of the building materials so me and Brian (the builder from the UK) went in. We were the best people for the job because we know nothing at all about shops in Mthatha and we don’t speak isiXhosa. I won’t go into the details but it was frustrating and the dodging of the potholes on the way home was not great craic.

Sorry it has been a while. Life here is hectic. It takes ages to get stuff done because of the slow speed my brain is working at and ‘Africa time’. The ratio of achievements to hours is extremely low and that pisses me off. (But if you want to see how Africa time effects people worse off than me, watch the movie Yesterday. It is very good and gives a good idea about the lives of some of Kim’s customers. )

Africa time is a hilarious phenomenon that means it takes a long time to get things done here. For example, the community meeting I held on Friday about the pre-school started 50 mins after it was scheduled to. I did get a chance to top up my tan though, because the meeting was in a field. The furniture was two chairs that me and Thandeka, the preschool teacher, brought. Everyone else sat on the grass/dung.

Meeting went well for the most part until some teachers from a nearby existing school came and were like “you are going to take our kids from our preschool into yours”. This seemed like a real risk to me as the parents who are switched on enough to have their kids there will also be the ones switched on enough to arrive early and register their kids with us. Not exactly what we were going for so I was like “we don’t want to do that, so we will only take kids not in a nearby preschool for this intake and the Jan 2010 intake (academic year start is different here. We are starting at the start of term 2) will be more of a free for all, depending on catchment area and who comes first. They were okay with that. It is all about consensus here, apparently so we thrashed it out at a bit of length.

The other thing was about age. We had a little bit of pressure to take kids of 3 or 4yrs of age. I was expecting that one and we did a good job of explaining that a pre-school is not a crèche and we only have 20 places and one teacher and the educational experience needs to be focused on preparing them for school. Actually part of me thinks the educational experience should be about messing about learning new words for poo, but I wasn’t gonna tell them that!

So all is ‘well’. Tomorrow I have to go back to Mthatha to smash my head against a brick wall repeatedly, before coming back home later than I want to. Then the next three days are enrolment and who knows how that will go. We have put the word out that we are going to be strict. The good thing is that if the Chief comes and says his 3 year old needs to go to pre-school, I will be like “Hey there, I am foreign and I don’t know anything and no.”. It might not happen.

Meanwhile Brian (who is the cousin of Taryn Gaunt, founder doctor, and is also working for free, thank goodness) is going to start building work. We loaded the Boesman with 45m2 of floor tiles and fixer today and crawled home with it. Then, this evening, we negotiated with the Minister about were to put the fence so the kids don’t fall into the pit of eternal poo and cuts. I will put a photo up sometime soon. Big ‘long-drop’ loo, or was one before getting disused. When I was a kid and went to a farm they were clear that we should stay away from the slurry pit. So I am pretty sure that a human slurry pit is even worse. Anyway, long story but the Minister (Mfundisi – read ‘Cry the Beloved Country’) is an awesome guy called Joseph and is well switched on and agreed to our proposal.

Now I am writing this, I feel like we achieved more than I had thought. So I shall go sleep and stop moaning to Kim.

Lovely to speak at the weekend and sorry if I seemed pre-occupied. Trying to do 100 things at once.

Boesman

This is the car, named Boesman. We are renting it for the year from a nice chap called Jurie, who is now in Wales. Boesman is Arikaans for bushman.

Garages are behind.

Look at it. Take a good look at it. Is it not a thing of beauty? Getting new tires on Monday after a flat the other day. Then we be rolling again.

The house

This is the house. It is not the mud hut that I was aiming for, but it is okay I suppose. It is a 2 bedroom flat with open plan kitchen / front room. Big telly but nowhere to get reception so it faces the wall.

We sleep under a mozzie net because I hate mozzies buzzing round my ears. No malaria problem here though.

On the right there is the built in braai with chimney with thing on top to stop rain getting in. That means we can braai in any weather. Not really an issue as it is sunny and hot every day but I guess it might rain at some point. Love to all in the UK!

It has taken 6 million hours for this photo to get uploaded so we are not going to be able to put a lot more up. I shall try to be selective.

Rural Hospital Life at Zithulele

About time I wrote...the fact that it’s been a while is a reflection of how damn busy I’ve been with work.

The hospital has 9 drs, but 2 are part time mums and one of those is now on maternity so call it 7 ½ ! Zithulele Hospital is made up of four wards: Male ward, female ward, Paediatrics and Maternity. Then there is Out Patient Dept which serves as an OPD and A+E and a ward sometimes.

Most people have HIV +/- TB lung, all people are poor, unemployment is high, people pop babies like no bodies business...monthly income averages at 1000rand which is 70quid. A trip to the hospital for some can cost 100rand...so people sacrifice a lot to get to us. We are understaffed and facilities are limited. There is a bigger tertiary hospital in Mthata the big town (bit of a hole).

In an ideal world we have access to Xrays, running water, electricity, patient transport to big clinics for specialised stuff in Mthatha, oxygen for the patients. Unfortunately and various times in the last few weeks one or most of these things have failed. The oxygen one is hard to stomach as a child with pneumonia who needs O2 is a pretty basic thing.

I have seen all sorts so far. For the medics reading....lts of LPs, placental evac, taking blood off neonates, drips in kids, draining pleural effusions galore, crazy TB CXR signs. For the none medics, I’ve had kids kicked in the face by a horse, man crushed under a car with crumbled up spine (i managed to negotiate a helicopter transfer and am something of a celebrity dr now since they hadn’t managed to get one since 2004...the entire town came out for a peek.) I am also something of a legend on maternity as I solved the riddle of the smelly delivery room. It smelt like something gone off, but the floor was clear of grime, the midwives thought it was the mattress, til I glanced up at the aircon to see a dead mouse, tail hanging out of the aircon – mystery solved. When asked by them “how did you know to look there” I said that I’d spent time in Edinburgh and knew what a dead mouse smelt like!

Weekends (when not working) are wonderful....just to escape the hustle and bustle of the hospital. Lots of little beachy places within an hours drive on a dirt track. Pete’s trying his hand at surfing. Even a legendary place which makes pizzas in a big outdoor oven that are amazing Italian delights. The ‘Transkei’ one is particularly nice (basically like an Hawaiian Pizza)...Transkei is the old name for this neck of the woods, now renamed The Wild Coast because the waves are wild and wrecked a lot of ships.

I have learnt a couple of words...la la means lie down. Epefumela means deep breath please. Gogo is grandma, that one makes me laugh!

My emotions fluctuate from elation to deep despair on an hourly basis. Who knows which way they will go...it is exhausting. Pete is awesome though. I guess we’re really ‘living’ now not just grumbling along passing time. After all, that was the whole point of this year.

Pete took me away for a surprise birthday w/e in luxury bungalows which was beautiful. Seems a stark contrast though to the poor village we’d just left. Maybe I find this type of luxury uncomfortable now. Interesting thought.

There is a real community amongst the hospital staff....there are drs but also physios and Occupational therapists, a dentist and dietician (who is awesome)....the dietician told us the other day how he drove to mthatha to collect the weeks hospital supply of meat and was told to meet the lady for the meat at Chicken Lickin...ironic since she came empty handed as they have not been given money from depot of health the buy any meat...so getting protein is tricky for our malnourished TB patients with no muscles. When asked ‘how is the kitchen going these days’ Duncan replied ‘cloudy with a strong chance of rain’ – hilarious guy! He’s going to have some input in the preschool pete is setting up which is opening mid april all being well – though the rondavel (round hut) it’s going to be in is occupied currently so we can’t get in to check out the structure yet. Africa man, everything happens tomorrow. And we want it to have happened yesterday!

In summary...I am surviving, but work is mental and very tough and emotionally draining. I love the community feel here and you feel so alive doing exciting stuff. I am glad pete is with me on the adventure. I miss all you lovely people back home but hope you enjoy the blogging. X kim

The Greatest Feeling on Earth, or Welcome to the Jungle

I know what you are thinking. However, although helping the sick and needy does rank up there, today I will tell you of something utterly spectacular. What you must do is the following. The details are specific and important and guaranteed to yield the highest positive sensation possible.

First you must undertake the 1hr 40 min drive from Zithulele to Mthatha several times in a week on a bumpy, dusty road in a wee Nissan Tiida. Next, remember to forget to buy beer every single time you go (this is easy to remember because they don’t sell beer in South African supermarkets. Sleep deprivation is important so get up at 5am as many times as you can and do not nap in the day. To do this it is often helpful to have a nice young chap to drive to Mthatha airport for an 8am flight.

The feeling is not yet very good, but you must do all of this anyway.

For the last drive of your set, you must be in a 1998 turbo diesel Toyota Land Cruiser Prado. With leather seats. This car must be extremely comfortable and awesome. It must have a good stereo, but you must not know how good the stereo is until the last minute.

You will need to have spent some time hanging around Mthatha’s shops, before buying some music on a whim. Do not leave the music shop without the album ‘Appetite for Destruction’ by Guns n Roses, or you will fail miserably after a lot of hard work.

Remember to remember to buy beer.

Buy beer. A lot of it.

Get diesel and congratulate yourself on remembering to do so.

Pull out of Mthatha towards your new home in Zithulele. The windows should be down and the sun shining.

This is where timing is important, because you need to be in the rolling hills between the N2 highway and Mqanduli (but not in Mqanduli, because there would be people everywhere and your moment would be ruined by embarrassment and sheepishness, as well as guilt).

Insert the Appetite for Destruction CD into the Prado’s stereo.

The last thing you must do is crank the volume up high.

If you have followed my instructions to the letter you will experience the most heightened sense of magnificence that a human being can.

The Jabulani Rural Health Foundation

Kim is doing amazing things at the hospital after week one. She comes back for a cheese toastie at lunch and tells me about ladies with half an umbilical cord hanging out and the guy who wheeled her here in a wheelbarrow. Most people don’t know their date of birth and more than half have HIV. The doctors are really supportive and realistic about what is achievable, whilst being ambitious to make continual improvements.

But enough about Kim. Let’s talk about me. What am I doing here? Well, I am running the Jabulani Foundation (which has an awesome website: www.jabulanifoundation.org). In fact I am sitting in my new office (in your face, DfT open planners) at my new desk on my old computer, typing this. Yes, some of my time will be spent driving a desk again, but at least I have an office (the spare bedroom) and I can listen to music. Queen’s Greatest Hits, if you must know. I will also be out and about in the community trying to fill the shoes of my decidedly intimidating predecessor Becky.

The doctors here are not content with helping out 5 billion TB and HIV patients per day, so they are determined to make a difference in the wider community. Because they are fairly busy running the hospital (and I do not know one end of a stethoscope from the other end of a catheter) I am going to be running the show day to day.

Becky was an uberperson who did masses to set up the Foundation. I don’t know what I expected, but there is a clear audit trail of funding and project work as well as business cases and research projects into demographics etc. In short, a professional operation and I am going to do my best not to cock it up. The most impressive thing is the far-reaching vision and ambition that I keep seeing in the paperwork.

The first priority is to set up a pre-school to give the snot-nosed little buggers in the village something to do before they go to primary school at 5yrs. I need to get more materials, a structure for the day, a syllabus and other minor details sorted before it opens in April. Following this we are looking to set several up all over the region.

Stand by for me coming a-begging for funding and support/advice. We have £0 for this pre-school project as I type this so any donations are most welcome. The Foundation has a UK arm so you can get GiftAid.

At the very least I am going to run an ultra-marathon (the 55ish mile Comrades Marathon) for sponsorship. So I will be asking you to fork out. The cause is good (small, money goes a long way in a place where it is badly needed) and the run is hard (humidity being the worst thing) and it is nearly a year since I last came cap in hand...

Hospitality

A minute to reflect on the amazing hospitality that Kim and I have been on the receiving end of, if you will.

The first person is Susan. No, the first are Tori and Al. Tori and Al took 6000 kilograms of our junk into their loft. That means that they will not be converting their loft anytime soon, unless the conversion is to a great big room full of my stuff. So thanks go to them for that and a special mention for Al for not dropping that box of books on my head. That would have been me dead and I could not have written this. Anyone want to comment on that?

Susan Lawlor. What a nice lady she is. We stayed in her lodger’s room for a week (she was away) between leaving our flat and leaving the country. And Susan didn’t mind. But don’t tell the lodger. In fact she tolerated us as we ran about stashing the last few bags in her loft space and generally being stressed out about visas, police reports and other logistical nightmares. We were not good craic, but it was lovely to stay with Susan, who is a very D L indeed.

Sarah, who is mentioned below, was so good to sort a taxi for us from Joburg Airport. And to take time out of work and then put us up. Fantastic. Then she paid for dinner on the first night out. Wouldn’t let us pay.

Alex and Electra then stepped in to make us feel really at home. Electra ferried us around from mall to car salesman and always with a smile and good chat. They gave us a time share next to Kruger National Park for Pete’s sake. So we thank them enormously.

Mike and Adriana and Errol and Janice looked after us really well in PE. They get the award for most beer donated to Kim and Pete. And they have really looked out for us, phoning for updates. You get the feeling that you have a friend at the end of the phone if you need it and that is priceless.

Thank you all so much for taking care of us. I hope you know how much we appreciate it and we would love to return the favour somewhere, sometime.

I am not going to go into all of the cool people in Zithulele just now, but needless to say it is a trend, South Africans are extremely hospitable in an effortless and selfless way.
If you come to see us in Zithulele, we offer you good HOSPITALity. I cannot stop laughing at that joke. Give me a minute. But really, this stuff is making me resolve to be a better host, so do pop round for tea or a braai. You can sleep in my new office (about which more later).

Zithulele

Right then. It seems we have finished messing around travelling for now and have come to Africa at last.

We drove here from East London yesterday after stocking up with supplies (every English newspaper, 50 litres of drinking water, two attractive folding chairs, sweets for Kimmy...). We had been told that there was no electricity or running water, and had not been for a week. Christmas was also waterless for the hospital, which must have been tough.

The N2 batters on east as before, getting a little more rough around the edges, but nonetheless generally good for 120kph cruising. The Satnav (Barbara) was doing her job well and told us when to turn off, but we had details from the hospital website anyway. The sign is for Coffee Bay and Mquanduli. Tarmac again, I smiled, as we were to go 50 further ks on this. Zoom. Guh-dunk!

There were big potholes on this stretch. BIG POTHOLES. All over the road on both sides. Thereafter it became me against the road and I had not a little fun trying to weave in and out of the holes, especially enjoying when I got a big one right between the wheels (which sounds dirty for some reason). Once, we passed a gang of little boys around a pile of straw and dry mud. They had their two fingers up in the traditional way so I locked the doors and windows and only slowed down as much as necessary, before speeding on, unharmed by these foul terrorists. Afterwards, Kim informed me that they were asking for 2 rand because they had filled in a pothole. Woops. Good job lads.

From the turn off we were back on more familiar, dirt-track territory and it was easy, but slow going – lots of fairly steep hillocks which would become a challenge in the rain, but the clouds held off. The wee Nissan Tiida handled it all admirably, save for the massive speed bumps, which were impossible to clear unscathed. Fingers crossed the undercarriage is unharmed. I look forward to picking up the Toyota Prado tomorrow.

They are, I am told, improving the road to tarmac standard (at a cost of 2 million rand (£140k per km) by 2010. The contractors are made to dispose of the rubble constructively, meaning that flat playing fields are created. Seems like a good arrangement as we passed a game of footy on an old pitch, which was seriously tilted to one side. Where they propose to flatten the hospital vegetable garden, they will relocate it elsewhere. It is not quite great crested newts (high five to DfT), but the same theory.

The scenery along the way was beautiful: green, rolling hills dotted with many pastel coloured buildings in groups of three or five, often rondavels (round, thatched). Lots of people were walking all over the roads and a good few gave a smile and a wave. The people around here are black, believe it or not, with very, very few exceptions. This is not the South Africa which we have been travelling in to date. Goats and cattle also meander about and move at the last moment, sluggishly. No horn is required from either party.

The hospital is a fairly good looking building in a razor-wired complex with guards. 20 metres down the road and opposite is another such complex with newer brick flats and garages. This is the hospital worker accommodation, where most of the staff live. Our building was built in June so we were pretty optimistic that it would be clean and good.

It was. Our place is fantastic. A very large two bedroom apartment with open plan kitchen living room, tonnes of light and built in storage. We filled it to the brim quickly with the two fold out chairs and it really began to feel like our very own squat. We just have to wait until the water stops looking like chocolate milk to give it a proper clean. Still some residual problems with the water, though the pump seems to work again.

Greeting us when we pulled in to the complex was a young woman with a distinctly pointy-out belly. She had a pretty little benappied girl (Em) by a hand and waved us in. Sally is one third (soon to be relegated to a quater) of the Le Rouxs and took us round to see the place and meet Karl. Riana pitched in and helped us to carry our bags and bags of stuff round, after ascertaining that we did drink alcohol. She seems nice. Liz appeared. Liz is a bit younger and a doctor at the hospital doing ‘community service’. I did not ask what she was done for, but she didn’t look like a robber at all. And all of these people were surrounded by dogs and cat. A community, and the braai went on shortly afterwards.

Everyone seems to be deceptively nice and friendly (Karl gave me beer and kebabs), but I am on my guard at all times like any good martial artist. I have asked Kim to attack me at random times, like Kato from the Pink Panther. It will keep me sharp and her combat skills are also sure to improve.

On Monday I pick up the real car and hopefully some more furniture and whatnot. Not only does Kim have to start a new and challenging job, but she will have to trust my choice of decor. I may be on the next flight home.

Kimmy’s Comments – the lion park

So, Janice works sometimes at this amazing lion park near Port Elizabeth. Mike took us there over the w/e to see the lions. I’ve been reading Life of Pi which seemed very appropriate to all this(those who’ve read it will agree).

Firstly we checked out the grown up lions. We saw some magnificent white lions living in a big gated park. Just when you’re looking at a lion and your mind wonders thinking what a beautiful creature she is, she quickly reminds you who is boss with a snarl of growl. One dusty brown coloured female got very cross when we drove past her and nearly pounced on the hire car. Shudder.

Then we went up to the place where the 9 month old cubs lived. Before we had time to make excuses and decline, we were being led in to the cubs den by the very able ‘Dee’ (‘The Lion Tamer’ I think should be his real name). Now, at 9 months these things are huge. I’d describe them as being much like a big big Alsatian but in a lion costume with kick ass lion talons big enough to mall you to death comfortably if they so wished.

One seemed quite placid, lying on a raised wooden platform at eye level. Dee calmly strolled over (with me Pete and mike scuttling along behind) and started stroking the cubs back and holding his paw revealing the talons of doom and destruction. Dee’s shirt sleeves were rolled up and I noticed some nasty scratches (Dee told me later that they were courtesy of one of the cubs a few wks prior, all part of the job description).

Meanwhile the other three or maybe four lion cubs were creeping up to us from behind to check us out. To me it seemed like they were crouching down to pounce. Apparently they were just being playful, and Dee simply pushed them firmly away and threw a big log over the other way which amused them for a while. He told us that these cubs were being moved to the massive grown up enclosure/fields place in a few days as they were getting a bit raucous. Awesome...and we were in a big enclosure with them why?

After leaving that lot, the offer of holding the younger cubs seemed like a walk in the park, and quickly we found ourselves surrounded by the cutest most wonderful baby lions, like giant domestic cat sized cubs. I’ll attach a picture. Their faces are so beautiful. One was called Bob Marley, another Dutch. I held one, she was gorgeous, I was terrified, they still growl when they’re little. Not quite a roar yet mind.

They had advised we wore dull plain clothes but Pete forgot that rule when he donned his bright blue crocs on his feet. Bad move Pete. They all liked Pete’s blue crocs a lot. They chewed the ends and attempted to sink in to Peters toes. Still, it took the attention away from my feet which were protected by only my flip flops so I was kind of relieved. Thanks Pete.

My conclusion...Lions rock, but are not to be messed with. They are the king of the jungle and not to be messed with.

WWE Bottom Line

We are nearing the time when we go to Zithulele (start work 9 March) and filled with some really strong feelings – lots about race, as we are clearly going from white-tastic rich places to the Eastern Cape, where all of the back people were sent during apartheid. The pump is broken so there has been no running water in Zithulele since Wednesday. It is almost difficult to remain focused on this fantastic holiday, but we soldier on. Kim and I are in Hogsback perched on a cliff with the most breathtaking view either of us has had from a bed. We are staying at ‘the Edge’, which is mentally good.

We spent the last few days in a family home, having great craic and not a few beers.

We left Franschhoek and drove towards Port Elizabeth to see my mate Gareth’s pal Mike. We went passed some cool stuff because we wanted to get there for the weekend. It is a funny thing though, going to meet a friend’s friend. It is just a fact that some of my mates’ pals are a-holes. But the contact we had had, had lead me to think that Mike would be a good guy. I just used the word ‘had’ three times in a row, which makes me some kind of wonderful.

Sean Michaels is currently fighting Mark Henry, the Strongest Man in the World. Kim, as you would guess, is utterly engrossed. And he has just kicked the strong man out of the ring and someone has just picked up a chair and OH MY GOD this is getting intense...

Anyway, we got to the Spar near Mike’s place and were met by a grinning man in shades with a crate of very large bottles of beer. I had to do a double take to make sure that he wasn’t Paul Richardson’s twin brother. And yay we went back to the ranch to open the beer. An amazing house, full of old books and photos on the wall and that nice feeling of 1970s and 80s stuff that I love. They had Reader’s Digests in the loo, where I was to spend some happy times.

Mike and Adriana, his very recent wife, couldn’t have been nicer and neither could Errol and Janice, Mike’s folks. Uncle G also made an appearance as Mike began to braai. Apparently wood is where it is at and I need to put an end to my charcoal nonsense. There initiated my education in fire management. I have, of course, studied informally under my father, but the last couple of days at Mike’s Open University has taught me of dry SA wood and the nuances of the wood lattice. Errol was supervisor in chief and was not slow to offer the youth his wisdom. His generosity is clear. And then, out of nowhere, came a whole chicken, spatchcocked and spread as flat as one can reasonably spread a chicken. This was to be cooked, and it was cooked and we did verily eat it.

After that we had some beer. And then we had another beer and then Mike (who is a bad man) brought out the tequila and literally forced it down our throats. It was a ghastly nightmare. Errol told us that he has given up drinking so it was particularly unfair for Mike to be continually re-filling his glass.

During the days I wobbled around like a zombie, waiting for the sanctity of the evening, the braai smoke and the beer. Mike ensured that we achieved stuff, from an audacious 9k walk in the bush, to a trip to a lion park, to watching a cracking game of Super 14 rugby, which the (Durban) Sharks won against New Zealand opposition. And then he supplied us with further braais and beers to prepare the next day’s hangover.

I have not experienced hospitality like it. What a lovely family. Can’t thank them enough.

Oh no, the Undertaker is on his way into the ring (at 299 pounds), and Randy Orton still looks confident but you have to wonder why because this time he really looks to have bitten off more than he can chew. My spine is chill-ed.

Actually it is not fair to say that I have not experienced hospitality like it, as so many people have been so good to us, putting us up and helping us out with things. Not fair to compare, really. We are enormously grateful to all and determined to return the favour and be outrageously hospitable to all and sundry in future.

We bade farewell to Mike and Adriana first thing this morning and left Errol on the couch watching the cricket at about 10am. Mike’s mum Janice said goodbye before heading off to yoga. It was like leaving our family, and we will be back to see the Howards this year.

Randy Orton has pulled some heinous trick, bringing two friends into the ring to tackle the Undertaker. He is not a man.