Homoeopathy at an End

It seems that this is to be the last homoeopathy posting. Thursday night we learned that the rules have been changed for visas and what was OK before is no longer OK, so we cannot work. For me, this means stopping over a week before I have planned, which is a shock, but it doesn’t take away what I have learned. [For people after us, this should not be a problem though.]

This meant that Friday was our final clinic and it was good to see a massai man (arriving on a bicycle) who had a bowed knee from childhood. He had various head pains, high blood pressure and knee pain.

He found that the remedy helped him enormously – his smile was lovely when he said this – particularly with the HBP. Hopefully, longer term it will also help his legs as at his first appointment he described how he felt that the second knee was beginning to deform.

There have been some wonderful improvements to note, not least the seriously ill home visit I made to an AIDS patient, who looked to be at the end, on a drip with oxygen and not responding ton anything. On Wednesday I saw him and he had eaten two cups of porridge and been talking a little in the morning; he was barely conscious that afternoon, but he moved his head and raised his eyebrows when I went – perhaps he recognised me?

 

With all the difficulties I had at the start, I have finally got into the swing of things; seeing many people in one day, taking cases, and searching for remedies, whilst still being able to pick up visual and other clues. I have got it and then it’s time to leave. Humph! but there it is.

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Homeopathy For Health in Africa

A Balance of Power

One of the hot topics of news here is the recent elections in next door Kenya. As predicted, there was trouble and many people died, but after a couple of days the results were announced and the “good guy” got in. I have to own to being incredibly ignorant here, but our Kenyan translators have been educating me and even the taxi driver yesterday was telling us what a good thing this is. As usual, the foundation of the conflict there was power and tribalism or – it’s not what-you-know but who-you-know.

Power also seems to be the theme in our small Homoeopathy for Health in Africa community. First the translators’ electricity went down, then the Sherrs’ electricity, including the generator (I know that you are now well aware of out random power provision here, but this was just individual houses). Then the translators’ electricity returned but the cleaner blew up the gas cooker (I didn’t like to ask). Finally – and most tragically – after hours of cutting, marinating & preparing our meal last night, the gas cylinder ran out before we had a chance to produce a gastronomic delight. As I say tragedy. But this was as nothing when, in the morning, it dawned on each one of us individually – no boiling water! For us Brits that means no tea (and words cannot convey the enormity of this loss) and for Cynthia this resulted in no coffee (which quite frankly is the Argentinian equivalent catastrophe). We are all pretty easy-going here and no cooked food, cold showers or torch-light reading can all be borne with equal grace. But no tea in the morning?

It was at that point that I seriously began to consider putting the iron in a mug to heat some water (OK not seriously). However salvation was on its way in the form of Joseph, our caretaker; he came back and we were able to go and get a new gas cylinder. (Of course, as you would expect, this then called for the Gas Happy Dance).

I am beginning to realise that, despite our comparatively simple existence (that’s compared to the UK not to Tanzania) there are still so many things we rely on. Let’s face it, during our desperation phase we considered – but did not act on – the idea of going out to Joseph’s place and using the wood fire they use to cook on. So we weren't desperate enough to do what they do every day....

More about Life in Moshi

On Monday I woke up to a strange smell – damp ground, for lo! it had been raining in the night. I cannot tell you what good news this was as it meant no dust – or at least less dust. The same happened on Tuesday night, but this time, driving to clinic, I found that no dust turns into more mud. Hey ho, swings and roundabouts. 

Coming back from town I decided that it was time I got a bus (dalla-dalla). Not as simple as you might think; to the untrained eye – that means mine – there is no clear system of numbering or identification. The result is that the surest way to get the right bus is to walk until there are very few options to get the wrong bus i.e. walk to the edge of town and wait at the end of the main road to Shanty town (home).

There is a lovely shady spot there and some people were already waiting so I joined them. A few minibussy things drove past, with the accompanying raised heads from us... followed by dropped heads as they sped past - they were not dalla-dallas. Then one did stop and we all raced to it. Some discussion ensued but then a dalla-dalla, loaded to the limits, pulled up and everyone left and ran towards that instead. However, in the first bus I had heard the word ‘International’, and knowing that our road is near the International school I asked if they were going that way. Apparently not, but there were going to Lima road – the main road here – so I took my chance. I realised that it was a private bus, but private vehicles do seem to pick people up, here, in fact the motor bikes are forever tooting to see if you want a lift – I assumed that they get a petrol contribution and everyone is happy. With this in mind, when we reached my road we stopped and I offered the dalla-dalla fare, but was generously told no problem. As it drove off I saw that it was a gospel bus, and so thanked the angel that had sent it.

In the evening I slathered on the Avon skin soft, to test the theory that it is a fantastic mosquito repellent and have decided that it is just a myth – the mosquitoes love the stuff and I watched one gobble my skin soft-drenched hand. Humph!

Later on that night, the rain theme continued, resulting in a spectacular thunderstorm. Not a lot of rain, but truly stunning lightning. Lorraine and I grabbed chairs and set them up facing the mountain and sat there gazing upwards. It was like a firework display with the occasional ooh! and aah! from us as the sky lit up dramatically and a sporadic forked hand spread across the heavens. Who needs TV?

Homoeopathy and Limits

I have found it hard this week, mainly because the clinics were full and that meant a lot of work. I don’t mind the work, in fact I am very grateful for the experience, but it does leave me knackered.

As I said last time, this week was when I intended to practice pacing my case-taking better and I have to say that it worked. Each clinic, instead of rushing headlong into it, I sat and took ten deep breaths and remembered what I was there for. On Monday I rearranged the seating (Patience, our translator, seemed to think I was mad but went along with it – thank you!) This meant that now the laptop & table were to one side and I was more directly facing the patient, making better contact and being able to observe more. For this clinic I also worked with Lorraine which reduced the writing load and thus eased the pressure. And finally, when I felt that I needed to, I stopped, drew breath and reminded myself of what I was doing. All this helped and by the end of Monday I felt like I was dealing with cases far better than last week.

 

On Tuesday we drove off towards the Pare mountains, and this time I noticed what wonderful scenery there was. Before we started I took a few minutes to draw inspiration from the beautiful hills around. This time I was working on my own, with input from Cynthia, but was now feeling more comfortable with my method. Things flowed better, even when Roger, the translator, and I moved into the second chicken coop there – the first one now being occupied by a rag-tag bunch of chickens. This again was a very busy day.

Wednesday proved to be busier still, with about 12 patients at a clinic, followed by a sad home visit. Then driving off back to another clinic where Michelle had been working flat out and still had eight patients waiting when I arrived (I could take some lessons in stamina from Michelle!!) So, knackered but knowing that we are a team, I settled down to take as many cases as I could. Here I have to say I was blessed with good fortune, as the three new cases I saw all had at least one very clear or unusual symptom, making prescribing much easier. For example, this was the first time I had met someone who was eating Pica (unusual substances) – in her case earth. She had some problems with heavy menses and when I got home and read about it, it seems that people who want to eat Pica usually have low iron levels. Interesting!

However the biggest lesson for the day was my final patient. She entered the room with a very miserable face and just looked like she was saying ‘poor me’. Normally I feel sympathy for most people I see, but at this point all I could think was how much she was complaining. Looking back I can see that I was at, or beyond, my limit. I am not sure how good a prescription I gave, with the hindsight of fresher eyes I suspect Pulsatilla would have been good. So – what is good is, that I have learned that I have my limits and there is a time to say ‘enough’ for if I stay longer, I am not giving as much help as I might.

We have been told to take a break when we need to, so that is what I did. Good advice.

The Kilimanjaro Marathon Weekend

The electricity, or rather lack of electricity, continued to be an issue through Friday and into Saturday, with only 3 hours of power in 36 hours. This extended period meant that I moved beyond the Electricity Happy Dance on to the Electricity Happy Scream. Most people would tell you that I am not one to scream, but the sight of the kitchen light on sent me racing out to the living room shrieking that the electricity was back on.

I then realised what I was doing and calmed down.

But I was very happy.

Sunday was the Marathon and I woke at 5.45 to the sound of some guy on a P.A. system giving a commentary (I assume) on the start up to the race. It is so hot here, that the main runners have to leave at 6 a.m. I am an early riser, but it was Sunday so nothing, not even the Kili marathon, was going to drag me out of bed at that time. So at 8, Cynthia and I set off into town, where we followed the start of the route where the final few were setting off, including people in wheelchairs.

This meant that we had technically missed the race, however we knew that there was to be a party afterwards, so we went to a cafe and relaxed.

Following a lift from a friend to the local university, we found ourselves in a stadium looking down on the finish line, with crowds all around us in a party mood. So we cheered-on any stragglers that ran in (they all manage to run that final 50m) and soaked up the atmosphere. Of course it wasn’t long before I remembered my stomach and Cynthia and I set off in search of food – a cloud of smoke behind the main stage suggested that there was barbequeued meat to be had. Sure enough there was a string of grills (fashioned from oil drums and the like) with various foods cooking; including the ever-present goat. But goat kebabs are good when you’re hungry, and grilled bananas (the accompaniment on offer) seemed to work well with them.

The sun was starting to penetrate us so we scuttled off in search of shade, and fortunately happened upon some coca-cola chairs under coca-cola umbrellas. (Coca cola has a strong advertising foot hold here, with just about every bar having their plastic chairs and most road signs being sponsored by them. Needless to say coke is prevalent in every drinks fridge).

But the shade was good and we found the lad next to us spoke excellent English, having lived with his aunty in Kent (!) so we were able to have a fine time chatting. Then the entertainment started up on the stage and we moved off to seek out a good viewpoint. Luck stayed with us, as the shade was just moving round to cover the lowest step and we were easily able to secure two places with excellent views (though I have to be honest, for the first half hour the hot concrete really burned our bottoms until it cooled down a bit.)

The music was excellent, and we soaked it up for an hour or two before catching a dalla dalla bus home. It was at this point that it seemed that our luck changed as the bus broke down, however a nice chap told us which road to walk down to get home and we set off, passing through a real outskirts-of-town village; true Africa. So we enjoyed a drink there (I shall spare you the toilet description) before continuing on home - quite an adventurous day!

Homoeopathy in the Heat & Dust

Last week was hard work, mostly due to me. I think that I am trying too hard (what, you naomi?) so have sought wise advice and now propose a new course of action for next week – taking each case at a less frenetic pace and feeling my way through a bit more. We shall see!

Despite being rather taxing, last week was also very interesting because we started working on a plantation. There are a number of plantations around and this has the added bonus of being a little bit higher up, so therefore a little bit cooler (every degree less heat counts!) The crops are sprayed and a number of workers we saw were sprayers. Now these people are given proper protective gear, but I guess in this heat it is tempting to remove it, so they can suffer from a reaction to the spray. This is obviously unfortunate and is best avoided, but from our viewpoint it means that it is likely that we will be able to find a few remedies that consistently help with the problems with the spraying (genus epidemicus). So again, let’s see how we go.

Another bonus of plantations is that they irrigate the crops and on the way to a different clinic we found this valuable. The front windscreen was dusty (when is it ever not?) so I pulled up alongside a field and waited for the spray to rotate my way – then put the wipers on to give a good clean. The children alongside the road looked on in amazement.

My Day Off

As I said last time, driving here is far more tiring than I had appreciated. Following our fabulous weekend trip, I shared driving down to Arusha and back for a clinic on Monday. There were the usual black-smoking, crawling lorries, but also sections of the road where I could swear the tarmac causes the car to aquaplane – most unnerving. Also there is the ever-present threat of being stopped by police looking for a contribution to their pockets. I always stick to the speed limit and maintain a forward stare (conveniently masked by dark glasses). I hope to exude an air of imperiousness or invisibility – either would do.

Anyhow, with more cross-country driving on Tuesday I decided that my personal batteries were now low and it was time to rest, so I took Wednesday off.

With a slightly more leisurely start to the day, I decided to wear one of my many dresses (courtesy of retail therapy) as this was a holiday. It felt good, until I got into town and realised that I stuck out like a sore thumb. Not only was I a Mazungu, I was also a smartly dressed one – not a back-packer - so suddenly I was fair game for people to hoik their prices and hassle me to buy stuff. Not my idea of a relaxing day off. So I skipped off to the cafe before going home.

The courtyard was cooler and groups of people sat around. I ordered my coffee and cake (chocolate cake – yummy!) and got out my book... and then realised that perhaps that wasn’t relaxing either. Sitting doing nothing, now that was more like it. Which meant that for the next half hour I just gazed happily at the people around me, consuming my goodies or simply being blank. Lovely

I knew I needed a haircut, and called in at the barber’s (yes, I’m not sure if he cuts girls’ hair, I’ve only seen him use the clippers on Jeremy’s locks: 120 seconds of whizzing and it’s done...) Anyway he was on holiday so that was that. Still contemplating hair I called in at the little shop close to us, that advertises “stylish cuts”. I asked the girl lounging in the chair how much it would cost and she said 2kTZS (that is about one euro). I left thinking that maybe she had undersold herself and the pricing didn’t really instill me with confidence. We shall see.

This Sunday is The Kilimanjaro Marathon – an event that has suddenly inspired vast quantities of people to take to the road jogging. Surely they are not all going to enter? I will be going along to watch as by all accounts it is a great day out, but I hope there will be no need for offering first aid.

And it seems that the Tanzanian Electricity Workers (God bless their cotton socks) are also in holiday mood as the electricity has been off since some time last night and it is now late in the afternoon on a Friday (and you know that it never comes on again before 9 p.m.) Perhaps, when they decide to reconnect us, we will be doing the Electricity Happy Jog this weekend?