We visited the hospital today . . . a combination of emotions from the sights and smells and our spending nearly 24 hours a day together affected the experience. Our visit took us from department to department (all in different buildings) and allowed us to see most parts of the wards.
So of course, like the rest of Dar, the buildings seem at least minimally in disrepair. The newest/cleanest buildings appear to be the student dorms and a lecture hall. (A
nd this ‘new’ is relative.) But the first thing to really hit you is the smell. Even outside of the waste areas that have a distinct smell of rot, the odd odors wafted throughout the hospital (and out of doors – all windows and doors are left open of course) – maybe it is a combination of sickness and an attempt at sterilization. It is not pleasant. (Passing the storage closet was a break from the odor with the clear scent of moth balls overpowering the rest of it.)
Inside the trauma recovery ward, the beds were overflowing with patients. Flies accumulated. People with broken and missing limbs lay on mats on the floor. (Images from old war movies flash through my brain.) Mosquito nets hang like halos knotted up above beds, most beds. The temperature is actually quite cool – but this is probably because it’s not too hot out. Rounds are being made. A patient smiles at us through it all. Overall, a grim atmosphere. Dozens of people wait outside for visiting hours to begin. And then the rain begins to fall steadily out of a blue sky.
Outside the morgue, a man talks on a cell phone: “She’s been at the hospital for a week. Now we are at the mortuary making sure they prepare the body properly.” A van similar to our daily transportation waits with the backseat folded in order to accommodate the coffin just inside the door. Inside the morgue, it is overflowing as well. Two bodies are wrapped in sheets on the cement floor awaiting refrigeration. A body is being prepared in the other room.
I wonder what the nature of funerals is here in Tanzania – celebratory or solem
n. My guess – celebratory. Is it dependent on religion? Our quick trip through the maternity ward lifted spirits slightly. A new baby brings a smile to Jessica’s teary face. Pregnant women wait in the hallways smiling and glowing.
Some random hospital facts:
- All care is paid for out of pocket before treatment
- This particular hospital was considered “top notch” and requires a referral from others for admission
- Only severe cases are seen here
- One can pay more for less crowded spaces, more tests . . . better care
- The ICU has eight beds – one always saved for the president (who would always opt for better care in other countries, in reality)
- About ten deaths per day
- About ten-fifteen deliveries per day
- There is an incinerator just for miscarriages, placenta, and other such things
Talk of the weather (extremely humid after the rain today, but not too hot and with a breeze) eases the mood at least a little – it at least breaks the silence. We are going dancing tonight – should be a nice release of tension.
Overarching theme: waiting! We meet to leave; we wait for people, the bus, some unknown something. We get on the bus; we wait for directions, traffic. We arrive at our destination; we wait for instruction, guides. We stop for lunch; we wait for everything. And so on and so on. This is ongoing, and going and going.
As I said, we’re going dancing tonight. Yes!
After dinner, a bittersweet sunset.
. . . It took three clubs to find an appropriate one. But we finally danced. It is four o’clock in the morning. I feel old for being so tired.
Club one was more like a brothel than a club. The only other women there, literally, were prostitutes. (And there were hundreds of men.) Dressed like Americans dress to club, they were obviously working. Most were with much older men. A couple flashed men (with bikini tops) to entice them. Most just flirted and touched. It was pretty gross. There was also a fashion show going on that was very . . . interesting. These girls were so young and thin strutting on a catwalk with people cheering them on. The whole scene was a bit sad.
Club two was “little America,” according to Dr. Lewis who went in to scope it out for us. We passed, hoping for a better, newer experience.
Club three had a dance competition which was very cool. Female dancers – teens – had a dance off. In between, a group that is apparently very popular danced and played music to entertain the crowd. The men dancing could certainly entertain (eh hem, and move their hips). The crowd ranged from teenagers to older people. Interesting note: people tipped the band 
at the end of the concert – slipping them schillings on stage. (Apparently this is common practice.)
And finally, dance music! We didn’t get to start until 2:45am, but then we danced, avoiding glances and unwanted dance partners. Dancing mostly to music we’d never heard, feeling the beat. The place was crowded and personal space is a nonexistent term in Tanzania. Between shoves meant to move one through the crowd and men dancing all up on you, personal space was also nonexistent to Americans tonight. This requires more than a few weeks to get used to.
Sweaty tiredness. Shower and bed. (Feeling much better.)
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