Back To Reality....

Bright and early we all met at Friend’s corner. I was late, as usual since I’ve adapted so well to the African pole pole nature. Since I hadn’t been back to Camp Moses since my trip to Zanzibar, I was a little behind on what was all going on with regards to the care of our kiddies. Two extra girls were waiting at the corner and I was told they were from a separate organization that was interested in taking care of the cost of Joseph’s post-operative care. I had my first maternal instinct ever when I saw these strangers holding my babies and pretending like they knew them when I was positive they didn’t. I just wanted to take Joseph and Bryson from their arms and hold them and protect them and make sure they were safe.

We loaded the bus and I wasn’t surprised when the new girls, who were American, ensured the babies sat on their laps and insisted on giving them too much sugar. The most frustrating thing was that they didn’t acknowledge how much Caroline, another volunteer, and I knew about these kids already and they didn’t bother to ask what we had already done for them. They just assumed we were all starting from square one. I napped as usual for the remainder of the trip and gladly got off the stuffy, stinky bus when we came to Moshi.

On their last trip to Moshi they had already gotten an ultrasound for Joseph and we were ready to admit him. While we were waiting around and getting all of his papers in order, the American and I started talking. We talked about the organizations we had come with, how long we had been in Tanzania for (I was at 2 months, herself, 2 days), and then we got onto the topics of university. I told her I was going into my second year, she insisted that I wasn’t, and then asked how old I was. After I told her my age, she said, “Oh wow, you’re just a baby. You don’t really know what’s going on, do you?”. From that point forward I really didn’t like her. Not only did I not like her, but also I felt for the first time since being in Africa that I needed to prove myself to someone.

Frustrated with her, I left and went to pester Dr Afrika into coming to meet us. He ensured that there was a bed for Joseph in the urology wing of the hospital. We got Joseph and Mama Lydia settled into their new bed before worrying about Bryson. We paid the 65,000 shillings for Josephs stay and said our goodbyes. Starving, Caroline and I grabbed some lunch/dinner while the American volunteers went with Bryson to the eye clinic. If they had listened before, they would have known that he had already been to an eye doctor and had no problems with his eyes. Dinner was a little tense when they came back with Bryson and we attempted again to explain what we had done. With full bellies, we made our way back to the bus station and came home to Arusha. Frustrated that a) it had been a 14 hour day and b) that I had experienced ageism in Africa, I called my girlies and had them meet me at Africafe for a hot fudge sundae. Two of my girls had just gotten down from summiting Kilimanjaro so we all had lots to talk about.

We went back to Moshi the next day, relieved to finally be able to go at 9 am (I’m really not a fan of early mornings). Andrea had finished her placement and was looking for something to do, so came with Caroline and I to Moshi. I slept the ride away and was so overjoyed to see that my baby was still okay at the hospital. We bought Mama Lydia and Joseph lunch, made sure they had plenty of fruit and water in the room and enough money for food until Monday when we were planning on coming back. Relieved at the idea of a short trip after the marathon of a day we had the day before, we headed back to Arusha. After dinner, to celebrate a good day, we all went to the movies to see Prince of Persia. Terrible movie, but still fun!

It was heart wrenching to leave my baby behind at KCMC, but I knew this was the first step into getting the right care. So much emotion was intertwined throughout the day, it didn’t feel like I was in Africa anymore. The more reflection I do on my trip and the changes I’ve seen in myself I realize how much I love the culture here. It has really become a part of me, and I hope I can bring the ‘pole pole’ or slow and relaxed methods back to my life in Canada.