So my surprise weekend destination was Kosi Bay. It is about an hour and a half driving time from Ingwavuma and is a place of many treasures. These include: dense, fig, mangrove and raffia-palm forests; wildlife such as hippos, crocs and 250 species of bird; some of the quietest and most beautiful beaches in SA; stunning coral reefs for snorkelling; a fascinating local tribe called the Tonga (no relation to the Pacific Islanders*). Mary had booked us in to a very Kosi forest lodge.
The Nature Reserve consists of four interconnected lakes. We spent both days exploring these – the first on a motor boat, the second in canoes. Despite the presence of lots of hippos and crocs, our guide insisted that we could swim in the lakes. He assured us that we would be able to see if any hippos were in the vicinity. As for the crocs, they were most definitely ‘friendly’. This meant that the guide had never heard of them having eaten any of the local fishermen. Mary needed no further reassurance. She was in the water. Her reluctant husband followed. Re-entering the boat after our swim, a helpful German couple that had stayed in the boat pointed out a hippo about 50 metres from our swimming area. Danke.
The Tonga people live a subsistence lifestyle. We were able to watch their methods for catching fish. Without sliced bread the Tongan’s use another expression – the best invention since fish traps**. This is how they work. Narrow channels connect the lakes. The water level in these is about 4-5 feet. A straight line of sticks are planted into the water over a distance of c. 50 metres. These sticks are approximately 6 feet in length and are planted close together. Thick algae quickly grows creating a ‘wall’ through which the fish cannot pass. Instead they are forced to swim alongside the algae until they reach the end. Here sticks form a three-quarter circle. A one way revolving door occupies the final quarter of the circle. Following their natural course a large number of fish swim straight into the trap. Along comes Mr Tonga to spear the fish. Each family builds/maintains/works a trap.
The couple that ran Kosi Forest Lodge were snake enthusiasts (or more particularly, he was). They had a large number of snake books. Given the likelihood that we will come across some (SA and KZN in particular is home to all of the continent’s most dangerous reptiles), I thought I should try to get some advice on the different types and the ones to avoid. Chris quickly revealed that he kept a couple of ‘baby’ pet snakes – one a very nasty puff adder. He assured us that we would be won over by its beauty. Willing to be persuaded, we both examined the intricacies of ‘puffy’. Without doubt the colours and mosaic like patterns on its back were very impressive. Less appealing was its regular and loud hissing noise.
Our walk to the canoe on Sunday took us through the beautiful forest. Mary and another girl led the way. On our canoe trip we saw some extraordinary birds. These included the very rare palmnut vulture – the only vegetarian vulture (unlikely to be a source of kudos among his vulture friends). We saw the Jesus bird (named because it walks on water) – a favourite with the Tongan people. And we saw many, many others. On our return walk the guide led us back to the car. We immediately struck up loud conversation with another couple. After 20 minutes of walking our guide suddenly reared backwards, threw a hand in the air and turned to look at us looking utterly terrified. In 10 seconds the danger had passed.
What had caused the guide to stop us? As Mary had seen (I didn’t because I was a few metres further behind), we had nearly tripped over a black mamba – South Africa’s most deadly snake. It is very rare to come across them. They contain sufficient poison to kill over 30 humans. They are also the fastest striking snake. And they are extremely nervous characters. This means that they attack if they think they are being threatened. They rear up and can strike at chest height. Fortunately, Jerome had been alert and we were able to return to the lodge with a good story.
On our drive back we came across another adder. Indeed we ran it over. Not sure we will have dented the population numbers greatly. Anyone still keen on visiting us? Suze?
* Just imagine the confusion if the two did meet. Immediate conflict would surely ensue over naming rights. Historians would have to write about the Tongan wars in which the Tonga defeated the Tonga for the right to be called the Tonga.
** Not completely true.
Monday, 25 October 2010
Thursday, 21 October 2010
Jiminy Cricket
As regular readers will know, I am not a big fan of South African radio. My particular poison is South Coast Fm ‘Durban’s number one radio station’. The music is dreadful and the djs are moronic. However, today they managed a droll moment. Occasionally they comment on a news story. This morning they drew attention to the fact that SA comes 38 out of 39 on a list of countries recently assessed on a range of security issues. The country was only ‘beaten’ by war torn Liberia. The dj casually thanked all his compatriots that contributed.
Today we had afternoon sport at school. Of choice, the kids would always pick to play football. But they play ‘soccer’ after school everyday anyway. In one of the school outhouses, we have some rugby balls and the essential bits of cricket equipment. So, feeling like a missionary, I have been trying to put them to use. Today’s cricket session began with me demonstrating four Comptonesque strokes with the bat. All then copied. Having learnt the art of batting, we moved on to bowling. Technique issues were quickly covered. And all the vital messages were hammered home – ‘line and length’, ‘corridor of uncertainty’.
Now we were ready to play.
Well it wasn’t the prettiest spectacle. Environmental factors created issues. As examples, the breeze kept blowing over the wicket behind the batsman; cattle made certain fielding positions difficult; the heat of the sun led to some very poor umpiring decisions. Nonetheless all tolerated the novelty of not playing football. And there was exciting controversy at the end of the match as both sides claimed victory (almost every player had a different view on how many runs each side had scored). I was happy to call the game a draw and none accused me of match fixing.
We have been busy this week with preparations for the half marathon. More to follow about this next week.
Tomorrow we are going away to celebrate my birthday. I know nothing about what the weekend involves. One small clue is that I was meant to be taking my malaria pills. I forgot. Hopefully this won’t lead to an unwanted present.
Today we had afternoon sport at school. Of choice, the kids would always pick to play football. But they play ‘soccer’ after school everyday anyway. In one of the school outhouses, we have some rugby balls and the essential bits of cricket equipment. So, feeling like a missionary, I have been trying to put them to use. Today’s cricket session began with me demonstrating four Comptonesque strokes with the bat. All then copied. Having learnt the art of batting, we moved on to bowling. Technique issues were quickly covered. And all the vital messages were hammered home – ‘line and length’, ‘corridor of uncertainty’.
Now we were ready to play.
Well it wasn’t the prettiest spectacle. Environmental factors created issues. As examples, the breeze kept blowing over the wicket behind the batsman; cattle made certain fielding positions difficult; the heat of the sun led to some very poor umpiring decisions. Nonetheless all tolerated the novelty of not playing football. And there was exciting controversy at the end of the match as both sides claimed victory (almost every player had a different view on how many runs each side had scored). I was happy to call the game a draw and none accused me of match fixing.
We have been busy this week with preparations for the half marathon. More to follow about this next week.
Tomorrow we are going away to celebrate my birthday. I know nothing about what the weekend involves. One small clue is that I was meant to be taking my malaria pills. I forgot. Hopefully this won’t lead to an unwanted present.
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
Karate Kid
Mary had a very busy weekend on call. I spent the weekend at the hospital escaping only to go to one of the smaller safari parks called Ndumo on Sunday. I didn’t see a leopard. I did see some giraffes, lots of antelope, a baby baby* monkey, and some big big* lizards.
We have stepped up our half-marathon training regime. We are now trying to do some longer runs. Running through the nearby areas creates lots of interest. Often people ask to join in. Last Thursday, Snethembu (18 years old) ran with us.
On Friday, Snethembu arrived at our house at 16.30. We had mentioned that we might go running again. In anticipation, he was all kitted out. But not in athletic gear. Instead he was wearing a Karate/judo suit. On his feet he had a pair of crocs, with the heel straps broken. In his hand he had his mobile phone – ‘music to help us go faster’. Concerned at Snethembu choice of attire and footwear, I suggested he might need to change. He found my reasoning very weak and so off we went.
We didn’t get very far before Snethembu’s knee started hurting. Insistent that he didn’t want to stop, he began to run in a crouched position with one hand on his knee. Minutes later, Snethembu’s phone began to ring. It was his pastor wanting a long discussion about an upcoming conference. Quite unfussed, my running companion began a long conversation.
I am due to be running again with Snethembu this afternoon. I am slightly intrigued about what he will be wearing this week.
* A better way of exaggerating something when speaking English to the Zulu people is to repeat the key word. If Mary needs something done ‘now’ in the hospital, she must ask for it to be done ‘now, now’.
We have stepped up our half-marathon training regime. We are now trying to do some longer runs. Running through the nearby areas creates lots of interest. Often people ask to join in. Last Thursday, Snethembu (18 years old) ran with us.
On Friday, Snethembu arrived at our house at 16.30. We had mentioned that we might go running again. In anticipation, he was all kitted out. But not in athletic gear. Instead he was wearing a Karate/judo suit. On his feet he had a pair of crocs, with the heel straps broken. In his hand he had his mobile phone – ‘music to help us go faster’. Concerned at Snethembu choice of attire and footwear, I suggested he might need to change. He found my reasoning very weak and so off we went.
We didn’t get very far before Snethembu’s knee started hurting. Insistent that he didn’t want to stop, he began to run in a crouched position with one hand on his knee. Minutes later, Snethembu’s phone began to ring. It was his pastor wanting a long discussion about an upcoming conference. Quite unfussed, my running companion began a long conversation.
I am due to be running again with Snethembu this afternoon. I am slightly intrigued about what he will be wearing this week.
* A better way of exaggerating something when speaking English to the Zulu people is to repeat the key word. If Mary needs something done ‘now’ in the hospital, she must ask for it to be done ‘now, now’.
Friday, 15 October 2010
Feeling cold & singing songs
The weather has been distinctly unafrican this week. No sympathy expected, but it has been cold and wet. Today it even started hailing. All the children immediately ran outside the classrooms. So began 10 minutes of wild excitement. I found myself joining in.
I decided to focus on personal health issues in my life orientation classes this week. In most respects the children have little control over this. For example, having a varied diet is a luxury beyond most. They are forced to drink some very unclean water from the tap (though this is cholera free). They all have to exercise, as few have cars. None need worry too much about drugs – too expensive (even tobacco; the exception is marijuana which is grown locally).
The obvious area to target is infectious disease. Apart from having a very high HIV rate, South Africa has the highest TB infection rate in the world. Better still, KZN has the highest rate in SA. Hence there is a TB sponsored ward in Mosvold. In the spirit of increasing awareness, we came up with our own TB song. It must be sung to the tune of ‘Doo dah, doo dah’
‘The TB Song’
We must know about a thing called TB, TB,
We must know about a thing called TeeeB,
It can make you ill, it can even kill,
You must know about a thing called TeeeB.
There are many signs that you have TB, TB,
There are many clues that you have TeeeB,
Coughs with blood, pains in your chest,
You must see a doctor, to have a test.
There are other signs that you have TB, TB
There are more clues that you have TeeeB,
Feeling tired, losing lots of weight,
Go and see a doctor before it gets too late.
If you are always sweating think TB, TB
If you are always sweating think TeeeB,
And if you don’t want food, you never want to eat,
You need to see a doctor, you’ve got TB to beat.
The good news is that TB can be cured,
The good news is that TB can be cured,
6 months of drugs taken every day,
This will make sure, your TB goes away.
Some skill is required to make it fit the tune but we all had fun making and singing it. I think the HIV/Aids song might be more difficult. We will need some possible rhymes for e.g. abstinence, fidelity, unprotected sex and circumcision. I’ll let you know what we come up with.
Due to the poor weather, and the fact that Mary is on call, this weekend is likely to be uneventful.
I decided to focus on personal health issues in my life orientation classes this week. In most respects the children have little control over this. For example, having a varied diet is a luxury beyond most. They are forced to drink some very unclean water from the tap (though this is cholera free). They all have to exercise, as few have cars. None need worry too much about drugs – too expensive (even tobacco; the exception is marijuana which is grown locally).
The obvious area to target is infectious disease. Apart from having a very high HIV rate, South Africa has the highest TB infection rate in the world. Better still, KZN has the highest rate in SA. Hence there is a TB sponsored ward in Mosvold. In the spirit of increasing awareness, we came up with our own TB song. It must be sung to the tune of ‘Doo dah, doo dah’
‘The TB Song’
We must know about a thing called TB, TB,
We must know about a thing called TeeeB,
It can make you ill, it can even kill,
You must know about a thing called TeeeB.
There are many signs that you have TB, TB,
There are many clues that you have TeeeB,
Coughs with blood, pains in your chest,
You must see a doctor, to have a test.
There are other signs that you have TB, TB
There are more clues that you have TeeeB,
Feeling tired, losing lots of weight,
Go and see a doctor before it gets too late.
If you are always sweating think TB, TB
If you are always sweating think TeeeB,
And if you don’t want food, you never want to eat,
You need to see a doctor, you’ve got TB to beat.
The good news is that TB can be cured,
The good news is that TB can be cured,
6 months of drugs taken every day,
This will make sure, your TB goes away.
Some skill is required to make it fit the tune but we all had fun making and singing it. I think the HIV/Aids song might be more difficult. We will need some possible rhymes for e.g. abstinence, fidelity, unprotected sex and circumcision. I’ll let you know what we come up with.
Due to the poor weather, and the fact that Mary is on call, this weekend is likely to be uneventful.
Monday, 11 October 2010
Hornlessness
This weekend we went for a big food shop at Richards Bay. Not much to report except that we fixed the air conditioning in the car. Mary and I celebrated as if a leap of leopards had just passed by and posed for our camera.
Unfortunately, the car developed another problem on the return journey. Trying to honk a cow off the road, our horn packed up. For the rest of the journey we had to halt and wait for umpteen cows, goats, hens etc to complete their evening crossings - unhurried. The beautifully cool air belting out and Bob Dylan’s idealistic whine meant we retained great inner peace throughout.
Unfortunately, the car developed another problem on the return journey. Trying to honk a cow off the road, our horn packed up. For the rest of the journey we had to halt and wait for umpteen cows, goats, hens etc to complete their evening crossings - unhurried. The beautifully cool air belting out and Bob Dylan’s idealistic whine meant we retained great inner peace throughout.
He came, he saw, he pointed
On Friday I completed a second week at Ntabayengwe School. I am developing a role for myself. I teach English, Social Sciences (history and geography) and Life Orientation (personal health and social issues classes). I teach years 6 and 7. On average I teach 3-4 lessons (each an hour long; there are 5 lessons in a day). I also take sport.
As well as teaching my scheduled lessons I also act as permanent ‘cover’ for year 6 and 7. They often are without a teacher. This will be for one of three reasons:
1) A teacher is away. We only have about 9 teachers. One, a young male is on sick leave. The headmaster and I visited him on Friday. He is very unlikely to return. He has Tb and almost certainly HIV. We found him living in an isolated hut, wasting away. He said he had no appetite. Nobody was caring for him. It was one of the loneliest situations I have ever witnessed.
2) A clash in the timetable requiring a teacher to be in two places at once.
3) Late cancellations. Sometimes, a teacher will decide to take a lesson off. Today the principal wasn’t keen on teaching African art and culture period 3.
I cannot be critical of any of the staff. Most work very hard and are paid appallingly. I asked the headmaster about the average salary for a teacher. Embarrassingly, he presented me with the payroll. It showed that most get paid approximately £1000 p.a. Food prices are comparable to the UK. This makes it barely a living wage. I now understand why they have been on strike!
Two things caught me by surprise during the week. The first was a big downpour. This came while I was teaching. And then suddenly I wasn’t. The rain landing on the tin roof made it impossible for the class to hear me. For a couple of minutes I tried shouting over it. I continued until I realised that most of the class were laughing at me. Then I gave up and we all became spectators at the window.
Later the same day the Principal entered the classroom. He arrived to give a motivational speech to the class. Suddenly he stopped and pointed at the eldest student (about 20 years of age) called Caesar. He sits on his own. In front of the whole class he said, ‘That is Caesar. He is retarded. He will not go on to Secondary School. I am trying to find him a special school. Do you understand?’ I did and so did the rest of the class.
As well as teaching my scheduled lessons I also act as permanent ‘cover’ for year 6 and 7. They often are without a teacher. This will be for one of three reasons:
1) A teacher is away. We only have about 9 teachers. One, a young male is on sick leave. The headmaster and I visited him on Friday. He is very unlikely to return. He has Tb and almost certainly HIV. We found him living in an isolated hut, wasting away. He said he had no appetite. Nobody was caring for him. It was one of the loneliest situations I have ever witnessed.
2) A clash in the timetable requiring a teacher to be in two places at once.
3) Late cancellations. Sometimes, a teacher will decide to take a lesson off. Today the principal wasn’t keen on teaching African art and culture period 3.
I cannot be critical of any of the staff. Most work very hard and are paid appallingly. I asked the headmaster about the average salary for a teacher. Embarrassingly, he presented me with the payroll. It showed that most get paid approximately £1000 p.a. Food prices are comparable to the UK. This makes it barely a living wage. I now understand why they have been on strike!
Two things caught me by surprise during the week. The first was a big downpour. This came while I was teaching. And then suddenly I wasn’t. The rain landing on the tin roof made it impossible for the class to hear me. For a couple of minutes I tried shouting over it. I continued until I realised that most of the class were laughing at me. Then I gave up and we all became spectators at the window.
Later the same day the Principal entered the classroom. He arrived to give a motivational speech to the class. Suddenly he stopped and pointed at the eldest student (about 20 years of age) called Caesar. He sits on his own. In front of the whole class he said, ‘That is Caesar. He is retarded. He will not go on to Secondary School. I am trying to find him a special school. Do you understand?’ I did and so did the rest of the class.
Thursday, 7 October 2010
Gogo and the goat!
My last patient during my on-call shift (29 hrs) was a medical first for me. As those following the blog will know, I have had many novel experiences in my short time at Mosvold. This case was the first time I have dealt with a goat related injury.
In came a gogo this morning with a relative (you are never quite sure who the relative is) and explained to me that her right shoulder hurt. I asked her what happened (in Zulu!). She explained that she was sleeping two nights ago when a goat entered her house. All our patients sleep on the floor at home. The animal walked through the house and onto the patient. She woke to the shock of a goat morning kiss. I found this very funny but no one else did so I kept quiet. I took a look at her right shoulder and noticed a large bump. I sent her for an x-ray and back she came with a clear cut right sided fracture of her clavicle. Poor Gogo!
She’ll be back in action in two weeks. She is now investigating goat security measures.
In came a gogo this morning with a relative (you are never quite sure who the relative is) and explained to me that her right shoulder hurt. I asked her what happened (in Zulu!). She explained that she was sleeping two nights ago when a goat entered her house. All our patients sleep on the floor at home. The animal walked through the house and onto the patient. She woke to the shock of a goat morning kiss. I found this very funny but no one else did so I kept quiet. I took a look at her right shoulder and noticed a large bump. I sent her for an x-ray and back she came with a clear cut right sided fracture of her clavicle. Poor Gogo!
She’ll be back in action in two weeks. She is now investigating goat security measures.
Nuts!
‘How does a squirrel keep his nuts dry? By swimming on his back.’
This is one of dad’s favourite jokes and last night at midnight it popped into my head. Fortunately, it popped out again quickly. For last night was not the moment to be attempting to retell it in Zulu.
Presenting in front of me was a six year old boy with his Gogo and neighbour (who looked very awkward) to explain to me that the boy had been bitten by a dog. The location of the bite quickly became clear – the scrotum. Unfortunately, the clinic had covered the man’s dignity with tape and no gauze. My first challenge was to try to get this off without causing him more pain. I decided to apply lots of sterile water and then pulled it apart (still very painful). This revealed that both testes were hanging loose. Although I do not have male genitalia (you will be pleased to know), I felt his pain. We do not have many options (and none are good) for strong analgesia. I did my best and cleaned out the wound. I tried hard to pop both testes back in place but to no avail. As a result, I had to transfer him to our referral hospital for specialist care.
NB. This somewhat emergency situation was not taken seriously by our ambulance crew. I asked them to pick the boy up at Mosvold at 4am so that he could be on the surgeon’s table by 8.00 am (it is a 3 hr drive to our referral hospital). They reassured me this would be done. It was not. None of the EMRS drivers could be convinced to disturb their sleep. On discovering this I gave our Ops Manager a full and frank opinion of our emergency service team. The boy finally left our outpatient department at 7.30am this morning.
This is one of dad’s favourite jokes and last night at midnight it popped into my head. Fortunately, it popped out again quickly. For last night was not the moment to be attempting to retell it in Zulu.
Presenting in front of me was a six year old boy with his Gogo and neighbour (who looked very awkward) to explain to me that the boy had been bitten by a dog. The location of the bite quickly became clear – the scrotum. Unfortunately, the clinic had covered the man’s dignity with tape and no gauze. My first challenge was to try to get this off without causing him more pain. I decided to apply lots of sterile water and then pulled it apart (still very painful). This revealed that both testes were hanging loose. Although I do not have male genitalia (you will be pleased to know), I felt his pain. We do not have many options (and none are good) for strong analgesia. I did my best and cleaned out the wound. I tried hard to pop both testes back in place but to no avail. As a result, I had to transfer him to our referral hospital for specialist care.
NB. This somewhat emergency situation was not taken seriously by our ambulance crew. I asked them to pick the boy up at Mosvold at 4am so that he could be on the surgeon’s table by 8.00 am (it is a 3 hr drive to our referral hospital). They reassured me this would be done. It was not. None of the EMRS drivers could be convinced to disturb their sleep. On discovering this I gave our Ops Manager a full and frank opinion of our emergency service team. The boy finally left our outpatient department at 7.30am this morning.
Wednesday, 6 October 2010
Ingwavuma Superman
How to solve our significant problems in house number 130? This was the issue facing us on Monday afternoon. Having reached the end of our tether with the on-site maintenance team, we felt desperate.
Fortunately, help was on its way. Enter, Ingwavuma’s very own comic book hero – Mr Vilikasi – Hospital Manager. Vusi arrived at 130 having received our distress call. He immediately wanted to know the long story of our accommodation woes. We were delighted at the opportunity to vent our frustrations.
Mr V is a man of authority. He is highly respected in the hospital and wider community and very competent. If people truly look like their pets then Vusi is also a man to be feared. For in his garden somewhere, there lurks a significantly sized rhino. Most rhinolike, he has a permanent friendly upward curve on his mouth.* He originally began working life as a nurse. At some point he moved into administration. Talent often seems to act as a barrier to career success in SA. Somehow this able man managed to reach the top of Mosvold hospital (no mean feat given the incredible levels of bureaucracy).
Vusi listened very patiently to our story. He then gave a very heartfelt apology and promised to resolve the situation. With the speed of a rhino on a charge, he set about finding solutions to all of our problems. Since his intervention, we have had two new boilers put in (the house next door had been sharing ours), new pipes, a new shower and new taps. Praise be to Vusi.
However, the restoration process, has not all been plain sailing. Today I returned from a day of teaching to find our kitchen floor covered in two inches of mud. Worse still was mud sprayed across our bedroom. Standing back, it looked rather like an art work – Jackson Pollock meets Tracy Emin. Mary, on seeing the scene, looked rather like the Munch scream character. (How had this happened? Somewhat frustratingly, the workmen had not closed the hatch for the ceiling before taking out the boiler. It was full of mud due to the collection over time of sediment from the water supply.)
Tomorrow will now be laundry day. Meanwhile the workmen will be painting the ceiling to the kitchen. We’ll let you know how the drama unfolds.
Fortunately, help was on its way. Enter, Ingwavuma’s very own comic book hero – Mr Vilikasi – Hospital Manager. Vusi arrived at 130 having received our distress call. He immediately wanted to know the long story of our accommodation woes. We were delighted at the opportunity to vent our frustrations.
Mr V is a man of authority. He is highly respected in the hospital and wider community and very competent. If people truly look like their pets then Vusi is also a man to be feared. For in his garden somewhere, there lurks a significantly sized rhino. Most rhinolike, he has a permanent friendly upward curve on his mouth.* He originally began working life as a nurse. At some point he moved into administration. Talent often seems to act as a barrier to career success in SA. Somehow this able man managed to reach the top of Mosvold hospital (no mean feat given the incredible levels of bureaucracy).
Vusi listened very patiently to our story. He then gave a very heartfelt apology and promised to resolve the situation. With the speed of a rhino on a charge, he set about finding solutions to all of our problems. Since his intervention, we have had two new boilers put in (the house next door had been sharing ours), new pipes, a new shower and new taps. Praise be to Vusi.
However, the restoration process, has not all been plain sailing. Today I returned from a day of teaching to find our kitchen floor covered in two inches of mud. Worse still was mud sprayed across our bedroom. Standing back, it looked rather like an art work – Jackson Pollock meets Tracy Emin. Mary, on seeing the scene, looked rather like the Munch scream character. (How had this happened? Somewhat frustratingly, the workmen had not closed the hatch for the ceiling before taking out the boiler. It was full of mud due to the collection over time of sediment from the water supply.)
Tomorrow will now be laundry day. Meanwhile the workmen will be painting the ceiling to the kitchen. We’ll let you know how the drama unfolds.
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
Don’t condomise – circumcise!
There is an approach in South Africa when it comes to sex education and HIV awareness called ABC. This stands for Abstain, Be Faithful, Condomise. Given the HIV rate continues to increase (at least here in KwaZulu Natal – KZN), the government has set up circumcision camps. This involves a doctor from each hospital every month or two spending a full day or two carrying out circumcision after circumcision.
The only one requirement in getting a circumcision is that the man needs to be HIV negative. This is because there is one study that shows that men who are circumcised have a lower rate of getting and giving HIV during unprotected sex.
Yesterday, a sixteen year old boy came to OPD to request a circumcision so that he can have lots of sex without a condom and not catch HIV. The doctor who saw him in OPD was not impressed and took the opportunity to educate him but also booked him in for the snip. Today, I carried out the operation. I did it all by myself and felt it went quite well (if I can say so). I had seen it carried out once before – a good five weeks ago. It is very much a see one, do one, teach one culture when it comes to medicine.
It did make me think that the new SA approach should be ABCD – Abstain, Be Faithful, Condomise, Don’t condomise just get a circumcision.
Unfortunately changing attitudes towards sex is a very slow process. It is not helped by the example set by some in authority e.g. the President, Mr Zuma. Zuma was acquitted of rape prior to taking up office. He ran as his defence that the woman was wearing a short skirt and so was provoking him. Enough said.
The only one requirement in getting a circumcision is that the man needs to be HIV negative. This is because there is one study that shows that men who are circumcised have a lower rate of getting and giving HIV during unprotected sex.
Yesterday, a sixteen year old boy came to OPD to request a circumcision so that he can have lots of sex without a condom and not catch HIV. The doctor who saw him in OPD was not impressed and took the opportunity to educate him but also booked him in for the snip. Today, I carried out the operation. I did it all by myself and felt it went quite well (if I can say so). I had seen it carried out once before – a good five weeks ago. It is very much a see one, do one, teach one culture when it comes to medicine.
It did make me think that the new SA approach should be ABCD – Abstain, Be Faithful, Condomise, Don’t condomise just get a circumcision.
Unfortunately changing attitudes towards sex is a very slow process. It is not helped by the example set by some in authority e.g. the President, Mr Zuma. Zuma was acquitted of rape prior to taking up office. He ran as his defence that the woman was wearing a short skirt and so was provoking him. Enough said.
Monday, 4 October 2010
Rats
This weekend we headed back to Sodwana Bay for more diving. It was a last minute decision. The plan had been for a group of us to go to Cape Vidal; this then changed to Mozambique. Logistics made both of these impossible. Feeling the power of Ringo Starr’s lyrics, we decided we most wanted to be in a little hideaway beneath the waves. So we drove back to our favourite scuba haunt, whistling tunelessly all the way.
We spent Saturday on the beach. We read, built sandcastles, and frolicked in the sea. Two things threatened my enjoyment of the waves. The first was my oversized swimming trunks with built in extra gravitational pull. Through a mix of luck and technique I managed to avoid any pornographic scenes. The second was getting ear ache from spending too much time under water. My bathing suit battles meant the Maginot Line defences in my ears were broken time again by the sea water. Combat has been raging since.
Sunday we were blessed with perfect conditions for our dive. We had 30 metre visibility, calm water and little surge. Our main concerns were that I could avoid too much ear pain and Mary could avoid vomiting. Thankfully neither of these interfered too much during our time in Ringo’s world. And by great coincidence, the first thing I saw on descending to the bottom of the ocean was an 8 legged friend. Unfortunately Mr O immediately decided to scarper. (I didn’t even get time to say, ‘How do you do? How do you do? How do you do? Etc.)
Despite the quick disappearance of the host, some of his guests decided to stay. Perhaps the most timid of these was a large potato bass. He was discovered hiding under a big rock.
When we got back to the surface I began to feel some pain in my fustilugs. Before I could alert my wife she was vomiting again. This time Mary hadn’t felt sick during the dive. It was resurfacing, that brought up breakfast. The other divers were very grateful for Mary beckoning so much sea life to the vicinity. She was encircled by hungry fish all keen on a share of the regurgitated food.
On our way back home we stopped off to buy some things for our new ‘home’ – number 130. We spent £26 buying crafts to decorate the ‘cave’ (nickname for our new abode).
We arrived at the hospital to find our kitchen flooded and water dripping steadily through a number of spots in the kitchen ceiling. The on-site plumber immediately recognised that there was a problem. After not much more time the cause was identified. We were told that, ‘The boiler is f…... It is most definitely f…… There is no doubt at all. The problem is the f…… boiler. I can tell that it is f…..’
We now have to wait for ‘a week’ for the new boiler. Previous occupants of the house told us before moving in that we would be able to hear giant rats running through our rafters at night. With a big hole in the kitchen ceiling we will now be able to assess their friendliness. Hopefully they won’t be singing to Ringo’s tune ‘We like to be under the ceiling, in Mary and Henry’s kitchen’.
We spent Saturday on the beach. We read, built sandcastles, and frolicked in the sea. Two things threatened my enjoyment of the waves. The first was my oversized swimming trunks with built in extra gravitational pull. Through a mix of luck and technique I managed to avoid any pornographic scenes. The second was getting ear ache from spending too much time under water. My bathing suit battles meant the Maginot Line defences in my ears were broken time again by the sea water. Combat has been raging since.
Sunday we were blessed with perfect conditions for our dive. We had 30 metre visibility, calm water and little surge. Our main concerns were that I could avoid too much ear pain and Mary could avoid vomiting. Thankfully neither of these interfered too much during our time in Ringo’s world. And by great coincidence, the first thing I saw on descending to the bottom of the ocean was an 8 legged friend. Unfortunately Mr O immediately decided to scarper. (I didn’t even get time to say, ‘How do you do? How do you do? How do you do? Etc.)
Despite the quick disappearance of the host, some of his guests decided to stay. Perhaps the most timid of these was a large potato bass. He was discovered hiding under a big rock.
When we got back to the surface I began to feel some pain in my fustilugs. Before I could alert my wife she was vomiting again. This time Mary hadn’t felt sick during the dive. It was resurfacing, that brought up breakfast. The other divers were very grateful for Mary beckoning so much sea life to the vicinity. She was encircled by hungry fish all keen on a share of the regurgitated food.
On our way back home we stopped off to buy some things for our new ‘home’ – number 130. We spent £26 buying crafts to decorate the ‘cave’ (nickname for our new abode).
We arrived at the hospital to find our kitchen flooded and water dripping steadily through a number of spots in the kitchen ceiling. The on-site plumber immediately recognised that there was a problem. After not much more time the cause was identified. We were told that, ‘The boiler is f…... It is most definitely f…… There is no doubt at all. The problem is the f…… boiler. I can tell that it is f…..’
We now have to wait for ‘a week’ for the new boiler. Previous occupants of the house told us before moving in that we would be able to hear giant rats running through our rafters at night. With a big hole in the kitchen ceiling we will now be able to assess their friendliness. Hopefully they won’t be singing to Ringo’s tune ‘We like to be under the ceiling, in Mary and Henry’s kitchen’.
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