13 August 2012
Post by Lara
We’ve decided to chronicle this story because we both find
it very funny now, over a month later. That being said, I’m a bit worried that
our family and friends might not enjoy reading about us being sick in Salone.
If that’s the case, then just go ahead and skip this post. We won’t be offended.
When we first arrived in Sierra Leone, we had a training
session by the incoming and outgoing Medical Officers, both of whom have a
healthy (in my opinion) sense of humor surrounding illness, especially
illnesses that are spread by fecal contamination. They reminded us that eating
street food is risky, and pointed out the most risky foods: fresh fruits and
vegetables that weren’t properly washed or were cut by someone with dirty
hands, anything with untreated water in it, and anything that’s been sitting
out where flies can land on it. All of those food items might be served with a
little something extra, if you get my meaning. Additionally, shaking hands with
someone who didn’t wash well and then eating without washing your own hands can
get you. The doctors both stressed
several times during that session that we all just need to stop eating poop and things will be fine. Turns out, that is sometimes harder than it
sounds.
Whatever it was, it hit Kevin about 36 hours before it hit
me. We both ate the exact same things for about 48 hours before his symptoms
started, which suggested to us that this one may have been traveling on dirty
hands rather than foodstuffs. Kevin woke up at 3am and spent most of the rest
of the night in the bathroom. I should
point out that we were incredibly lucky in that our bathroom at our host family’s
house was attached to our bedroom with a pour-flush toilet, and we were the
only ones who used it. Some other colleagues of ours share the bathroom with
the whole family, and several others have only outdoor latrines. Right off the bat it could have been worse.
Kevin went to see the doctor that morning and spent most of
the day lying on a sick bed in the air-conditioned medical office. One thing
we’ve learned about ourselves in our adult lives is that getting sick is a sure
path to homesickness and self-pity.
Kevin was feeling both acutely at the time. By the afternoon, he was able to keep down
some soup. The next day, he still felt
sick but he was able to sit through training sessions and peck at some
food. It was about 3:00pm that second
afternoon that I felt something coming on. The doctor was leaving town to go
back to Freetown, so I made a quick visit and stocked up on some Pepto Bismol. I
went home a bit early and by about 4:00 I was throwing up in our bathroom. This is the part where I point out that
although it may seem like it’s better to get sick at 4PM than 3AM, when you’re
living with a Sierra Leonean host family I would beg to differ. By the time I had emptied my stomach, our
host father was pounding on the bedroom door and calling for Kevin. When Kevin opened the door, he found our
mother, father, brother, and two older sisters all lined up in the doorway with
horrified looks on their faces. Our
father asked, “What is that?” to which Kevin replied, “Lara is losing her
lunch”. Our host parents told Kevin that
he needed to call the doctor. Kevin tried explaining that I had already seen
the doctor and since I had the same thing he had the day before, the doctor was
sure I would be fine by tomorrow. They were not to be persuaded, though, and
eventually Kevin relented and called the doctor. Here’s how the conversation went:
“Hello?”
“Hi. This is Kevin. I’m calling on behalf of Lara. She is
sick- she has what I had yesterday. She’s throwing up and our family wanted me
to call you.”
“Ok. Hand the phone to your father.”
Kevin hands the phone over. Our host father utters several
“OK”s and “Yes Sir’s” before handing the phone back to Kevin and saying, “He
says he has given you your instructions.”
I spent a good 4 or 5 hours being sick and miserable and
utterly sorry for myself, as I’m wont to
do since I moved out of my parents’ house and don’t have my mom to make me
toast and tea and Jell-O and let me watch movies all day as she takes care of
me. By the next morning I felt like I
had been kicked in the gut several times and almost nothing sounded appetizing,
but I was over the worst of it. I made a journal entry that day in which I
pointed out that a) I need to learn how to throw up quietly, and b) I felt just
like Marshall Erickson in How I Met Your Mother during the episode where Lily
gets sick and thinks that it’s food poisoning and warns Marshall, who spends
the rest of the day convinced that he’s next, counting down the hours until it
hits him too. Seeing the future can be
cool sometimes, but not when the future is food-borne illness. I promise.
By the third day, Kevin and I were both mostly better but
completely turned-off by rice and plassas, which all tend to taste the same and
come with a way-more-than-healthy serving of bright orange palm oil that, at
least at first, tended to upset our bellies even without the whole eating of
fecal matter ordeal. We came home after
training to rice and potato leaf, which at the time was one of our favorites.
We could hardly keep the lid open, let alone stomach eating any, so for the
second evening in a row we brought back our dinner without touching it. Now one
cultural thing that I like about Sierra Leone is that they don’t ascribe to the
philosophy that everyone needs to finish their plate all the time. On the
contrary, family members and especially children tend to be very happy when you
have some food leftover to offer them, and they eat it gladly. That being said, giving back your entire
dinner without eating any of it does not fly.
Another colleague of ours informed us that it’s considered strange to
refuse food, even when you’re sick. Our
family was quite worried, and became even more worried when I went straight to
bed without spending the usual hour or so watching films in the parlour.
The next day, we came home after training and I was still
feeling anti-social and tired, so I tried to stay in my room and asked Kevin to
tell the family I was tired. After half an hour or so, Kevin came to our room
and literally begged me to go out and talk to the family. “Mama told me to
bring you out. She says she wants to see you.” I pouted a little, which
elicited even more pouting from Kevin who was burnt-out from two nights of
assuring our family that I was fine while I hid in our bedroom, and eventually I
relented.
I went out to the
parlour where Mama was sitting and she immediately cried out, “Gbessay! I have
been worried for you”. I told her I was just tired, and sat down on a chair
while they put on a film. About 30 minutes later I felt like I probably had
stayed long enough to please her, and I said goodnight and went back to our
room. We actually got back our appetite
for rice and plasas pretty quickly,
and enjoyed a healthy serving of cassava leaf the next day. We also had a renewed interest in washing our
hands and selecting our food very carefully after that, which I hope will keep
us safe from the cholera outbreak that’s ongoing in Salone this rainy
season. As our medical officers
entreated us from the beginning, we just need to work on not eating poop and
things will sail smoothly!
 |
| Cassava Leaf Plasas |
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