I remember when I was a kid thinking how random it is that we are born into the situations that we are. It wasn't out of any altruistic thinking. I was more puzzled by why I had a mom that never let me sit in the car while it was running to listen to the radio and Emily did. Another of my main concerns was why did Emily live so close to Jewel and its wonderful cupcakes and I lived so far away. Point being that this had been on my mind for a long time. After Katrina it became a more prominent thought because many of my friends at work lost everything they had where as I didn't even get a broken window. But this past week the randomness and unfairness of life is all I can think about. I am warning you, the blog that is following this will not be easy to read and it will not lift your spirits in a nice New Year kind of way. But its my reality...
Last time I was on the computer it was my birthday. Well when I got home from linguere my family greeted me as usually but my little brother Pape didn't even get up. This is unusual because he usually runs all the way to the road outside of my village to walk with me. So as I am putting my stuff away in my room I ask him whats wrong and he says his leg hurts. Then my mom comes over and lifts up his shirt to show my why. He has what looks like a huge bump coming out of his abdomen and almost curving over his hip bone. Well I immediately tell them that he has to go to the doctor cause it didn't look like something that would resolve itself on its own. The problem was that it didn't look like an infected cut. The surface was smooth and the skin was pink because it was so stretched from what ever was trying to get out. I talked to my mom and his mom for a few minutes but they were dead set that they didn't have the money to take him to the doctor.
That was a lie. Tabaski was going to be in a few days and my family was planning on slaughtering two rams which is about a thousand dollars. To say that they didn't have the money wasn't true what they meant to say was that it wasn't one of their priorities or that they were hoping that I would pay for it. This conversation went on for days and as the days past Pape only got worst. I finally came up with the idea of having Thomas call me during the day and lead me through an exam of pape and then I would tell them that the Doc in America orders them to take him to the hospital. Even after all of this they still wouldn't budge. His mom just kept saying that she didn't have the money and she lived in gods hands.
It was around then that I started to have a serious breakdown about what to do. Do i take this kid to the hospital cause I know that he has to go and just bite the bullet and pay for it? Or do I hope that his family comes to their senses and brings them their self so that they can talk to the doctors and learn the error of their ways for waiting too long? This was my dilemma. One of the reasons they didn't think he was in grave danger was that every other day he would be fine. He would run around with his brothers and play and laugh like nothing was wrong. Well that all changed last Friday when he could barely move and I had to sit with him in my lap for hours to get him to drink something. That afternoon my mom finally caved and said that he was going to the hospital that afternoon. I was thrilled. Then she said that I was taking him.
At this I paused cause on one hand I was honored that they would want me there but on the other I thought it would be better to have his actual mom there. Fati (his mom) is still in mourning for her husband that died of malaria in Oct so she doesn't feel the need to do much of anything let alone leave the compound. So it was settled. My mom, pape, Frau (my oldest of the youngest brothers and papes older half brother, i know very complicated) and I would go to Dara to go to the hospital. Well we get Pape all dressed (he is usually naked) and load him into the sheret and about an hour later we are at the hospital that is completely empty. Pape can sense that somethings up and I thought ahead and brought a crayon and some paper to keep him busy while we wait. I assumed that because my mom had been to this hospital before that she knew what was up, but the second we got inside she just sat down with this glazed look over her face and handed me the money that they had brought for the doctor.
After a few minutes a nurse or nurse in training comes out and asks what wrong. My mom doesn't say anything and Pape is starting to freak so I say that my little brother has a growth on his stomach. She tells me to bring him back to an exam room. I pick him up and look at my mom but she seems perfectly comfortable to sit right there so its me and pape all by ourselves. Its about now that I realize this could be a huge problem cause I don't speak french and these people are not speaking wolof back to me when I try to talk to them. So the nurse lifts up papes shirt and looks at the huge bulge. Then she pokes it with her index finger which not only makes Pape start crying but he also has the know how to slap her hand. I apologize and try to explain to the increasingly stressed out Pape that she is going to try to make him all better. Before we left for Dara I grabbed my french dictionary and wrote out some things that I though the doctors would want to know. Like the fact that he had a 102 degree te^mp for about the past week and I had been giving him aspirin to break it. Also the fact that he had just gotten over measles and it was still going around my village. I had even talked to my sisters about if he was peeing and pooping normally. Well that was all a waste cause they didn't ask me a single question. I turn around and she hands me a piece of paper and tells me to go the pharmacy.
When I am there it becomes clear that they are planning on doing something about it today cause I had to buy gauze, tape, a syringe, a scalpel, antibiotics, pain meds, and a wound wash. I gather all these things together and realize that I have already spent all of my families money let alone some of mine. What ever I think at this point we just have to get this done. So I grab Pape and we head back into the hospital to another room with a bed and i hand everything to the nurses. They tell me to take his pants off and lay him down. If any of you know me you know that I cry when I get shots so right about now i am hyperventilating but trying to stay calm cause its just me and pape and I know he has to be freaking out more than me. He starts to cry the second we lay him down. He just knows.
Before I know whats going on I see a nurse come towards pape with the scalpel. I freak out. I have lost almost all of my language by this point so I am sure I was talking in English but somehow she got the idea that I asked whats going on. All she said was hold him down. And with that started the worst 15 mins of my life. She just wipes over the wound with some alcohol and with out so much as a warning or some pain meds she just cuts right into him. I am holding down his chest but as you can guess he is screaming and shaking like his life depended on it. The nurse calls in more people to help and in the end there are three other people holding him down. I cant do anything but cry and say I know baby i know. I cant speak English I cant speak French I cant speak wolof. All I can do is cry and try to get Pape to look at my face. I will never forget his screams. He just kept saying over and over please yaccine please help me please stop them. He was screaming and crying so hard that he bit his lip and now his mouth was filling with blood.
I have never felt so useless. I couldn't think of a single thing in wolof to say except a little more time baby a little more time. I felt like an idiot. He knows the word baby in English because of my dog so he would repeat the word and again plead for me to do anything to make it stop. My tears were streaming down my face and making his face an even bigger mess than it already was. I look over cause it seems to be forever and realize that they arnt just cutting into him they are taking the middle of the bulge out by cutting a divot into it. There is blood everywhere by this point. I am trying to not let Pape look so I am leaning into him with my body and cupping his face with my hands. Because of his movement and my position I now realize that there is blood all over the right side of my body. And pape keeps screaming yaccine please help me please help me.
After what seems like an eternity they finally place a bandage over the gash and back away. Everyone in the room is giggling that the Toubab (me) was crying. I can barely stand let alone make some type of remark that would express how i was feeling at that time. So I do what I can, I wipe my face and tell pape that he was very strong and that its all over. I ask him if he wants a candy and he quickly says yes. I am so thankful I remembered to bring some along in my purse. Pape and I go outside to a bench and while he is sucking on his candy I try to get his bloody shorts back on before I give up and just let him go pant less. The nurses handed me the meds and tell me three times a day before shooing me out the door. Walking with pape in my arms was like waking up from a horrible dream only to realize that it wasn't a dream at all.
In the waiting room I expect to find my mom but instead I find my brother. He tells me that she went around the block to wait with the sheret. I tell myself not to cry and that as soon as I am in my hut I can do what ever I want. We walk out to the sheret and my mom explains that she couldn't sit in the waiting room and listen to his screams. I hold back tears and hateful words and just get on the sheret so they know that its time to go. The whole way home my mom just says over and over how horrible it was to hear his scream. She is obviously obliviant to the fact that I am covered in her grandsons blood i think to myself. Just keep it together meg till you get home all you have to do is get home and then you can cry on phoenix for as long as you like.
I carry Pape into the compound and lay him down on my bed that I sleep on outside. I tell everyone not to touch him. His mom doesn't even get up from her seat 20 feet away. I go into my hut and get an ace bandage. The placement of the wound made it really difficult to get a bandage to stick and I know if he starts to feel better it will only be a matter of hours before he gets sand into it. I wrap his whole abdomen and then give him what I think are the doses of his meds. Remember they never told me how much they just told me three times a day. Its about now that Fati starts to cry and Maggotte tells me to bring Pape to her. I explain again that he cant sit in the sand and that no one can touch him. I tell everyone that he was very brave and that it would be best if we just didn't talk about it cause we didn't want him to think about it. Then I proceed to go into my room and cry for about the next two hours.
The next day I have to bring him back to get the bandage changed and to ask all the questions that I blanked on the night before. Well this time its just me and my two brothers Frau and Amadou. They are about 15 and 13 going on 30. I love them to death and even though I was beyond pissed that my family had just washed their hands of the situation, I was glad that they were with me. So on the way into the hell that I knew we were about to enter. I rack my brain for ways to make this better. Then i remember my childhood visits to the doc. I have been a wuss my whole life and because of that and because nothing caused my dad greater pain than to hear me cry he would always bribe my sister and I with a trip to McDs after. I would still cry but we would always go get fries after which in many ways made it better. Problem, I live in Africa where not only do we not have Mcds, we have very little in the way of fast food. So I adapted my Dads technique to fit my reality. I got the boys bean sandwiches before the doctor and I told pape if he was really good we would go and get drinks (pop) after.
Cleaning the wound wasn't as bad obviously but its then that i realized that they didn't stitch him. So now he has a gab between the edges of his skin. This means a huge chance for infection and a much longer recovery time. He crys and screams but nothing compared to the heart wrenching screams of the day before. After wards we decide that skirts are the way to go and i wrap pape up in my head scarf so it looks like he is wearing a panya. Then we head to the boutique to get drinks. The whole way my older brothers are excitingly asking pape what flavor he wants. Pop is a huge treat in my village, something the kids have about 3 times a year, so this is a big deal. Pape is just starting to finish his candy that I shoved in his mouth again as soon as we were done and he doesnt seem a bit interested in what flavor of pop.
I take the boys to my favorite boutique that stocks a lot of things that cant be found anywhere else in town, like Coke and Sprite in cans. When we all walk in you would have though I was bringing the boys to Disneyland. Everyone got quiet and their eyes glazed over looking at the fridge filled with choices they hadn't even though of. After much talk we decide on two cokes and a sprite. The three older boys hold the cold cans in their hands as i pay and each of them whispers to the other one about how they are always going to come to the doc with me. We head back to the sheret and I show them how to tap the top of the cans so they don't fizzle and then they all have their first taste of coke.
Coke has a certain bite that hits a few seconds after you drink it and its this bite that sends Papes face into a sour look and then he starts dancing with his head. I wish I had had my camera cause it was so funny that the other boys were making him drink more just so they could laugh at him being ridiculous. I knew pape was feeling better and I was glad that the other boys were having a good time but none of this was getting the thought out of my mind about how unfair life was. Just because this poor kid was born where he was and with a family like his he had to go through something so unnecessary that I cant even imagine. I couldn't have done that at his age without my parents and if I did I think it would have taken a lot more than a coke to bring me back. But here he was laughing and dancing with his brothers like he had just accepted that this was his life.
I had to take Pape to the hospital two more times and now I am changing the bandages on my own. Because of all of this and because no one in my family offered to step up, I spend my new years giving antibiotics to my 4 year old brother. At a time in the year where kids all across the world are crossing their fingers for the new tickle me elmo or the new must have video game, here was a kid that could still laugh after going through surgery WWI style. Its so unfair that he is the one suffering because no one around him thought his need was more important than a stupid holiday. The good news is that he is getting better and in a few days I think he will be healed enough for me to leave the village for some much needed veg time. I am sorry this has been such a downer and I promise I have many other blogs to come that will make you laugh instead of making you cry. Love you all and please remember how lucky you are to be given the lucky life that you have.
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