The Ambulance

When you come to Dondo you can change hats several times before the sun sets behind the coconut trees.  The hat I donned this morning looked distinctly familiar but with a tangible twist.

This morning began early several kilometers away from Dondo. We had planned to participate in a Bible study with a group of Project Life recipients. After three days of rain, many dirt roads were impassable for the low slung van to negotiate. Undaunted, we parked the van at the highway and walked the remaining kilometers. At our arrival we discovered the hostess of the Bible study lying on the dirt floor in the back room of her mud home.  Conceding to some contagion from the last stages of AIDS, Fina was unable to lift her head for the customary greetings. As a former EMT, I evaluated her present need to go to the hospital. Call 911. Uh...maybe not. My mind wanted to play host to a nonexistent protocol - a formula for frustration here in Africa.  So we went with Plan B.  We found a neighbor who agreed to carry Fina on the back of his bicycle.  We carefully wrapped her in a capalana and sat her febrile and emaciated body upright on the back end of it.  She started to sway like a palm tree in the wind but we caught her just in time. In order to secure Fina on our "ambulance," Simone held on to her from the back while our driver took off towards the van negotiating the muddy and potholed road.  I looked down and realized my flip flops and a-line skirt hardly fit the attire of someone about to chase after the ambulance.  

We pulled up in front of the hospital and carried Fina into the emergency room adorned with chartreuse four-inch grasshoppers on the floor, wall and ceiling.  A minor addition since the hospital eliminated all the cockroaches this year and added mosquito nets to each bed. The nurse directed us to a room with a line of beds where Fina gratefully collapsed and didn't move for five hours. Eventually a nurse found time to address her needs and gave us a list of free medicines to retrieve at the hospital's pharmacy.  One prescription included an injection that wasn't available, initiating our drive to the only other pharmacy in town.  Upon our return, Fina was given her injection and officially discharged dispelling my wishful vision of her in an ICU wing. We carried her limp body to the car and retraced our morning run as far as we could drive. I watched her slumped form on the bike disappear down the road. Even though there isn't a state-of-the-art facility, I am thankful for the people who donate medicines so that my friend Fina can find some relief in her battle with AIDS.