Arriving North

I'm greatly looking forward to my mother's trip to Malawi (which is happening by the way; more on that later) because I believe it will answer the age old question: if you can't see the encompassing structure surrounding you (as you can't a mosquito net in the dark), does claustrophobia exist?

Do you enjoy, reader, my constant references to The Mosquito Net? Prime blog real estate, section A1: I'm quite fond of them you see. Of note, it is the cool dry season in Malawi right now; mosquito sightings have been few and far between. 

Yesterday, Emily and I traveled to Ekwendeni, the city where we will spend the next two months. Our need to go with the flow hit like a tidal wave as we began our 200+ kilometer trip north. There will be two seats for us together, correct? we inquired, our eyes tracking our bags as they disappeared ahead of us into the bus but incidentally catching the stares of the locals in the windows, already clearly packed tight.  Yes of course, of course, 2 seats together. And 4,000 kwacha extra because we are making room for your suitcases.

Standing in the aisle of a bus for 2 hours is an interesting ordeal. Emily and I have uncovered an uncanny ability to zero in on silver linings, and highlight them. This truly is the ideal situation, we mused, standing wide-based and facing sideways to retain or balance. The scenery -from the non-seated position- breathtaking; the side conversations -from many sides- unique; the bus odor -from an elevated height- less malodorous.  In the ongoing debate of whether we are tourists or locals, our experience with the National Bus Company standing section clearly canceled out the fact that we were blatantly ripped off on the bus fare. See, a silver lining: we're calling this one a win-win.

That was a snapshot from yesterday, though, and today's today. There's a lot to say about today, our first full day in Ekwendeni.  I don't think I'm ready to break down some of the more to-be formative scenes yet (the hospital, the city, our living accommodations). I will say though that we spent the morning at Ekwendeni hospital and during morning report, a more senior overnight nurse directed frustration towards a younger nurse who reported no overnight events in the maternity ward.  How can she say no events? The nurse with grey wisps of hair scowled, after her younger colleague had left the room. Yesterday, Mr. D succeeded in carrying out a twin delivery; one of the babies was breech.  How can she report no events, when this was so special? A debate ensued over whether morning report is supposed to reflect the prior 24-hours, or just the prior night.  But I don't really think this was about logistics.  I think the point was to acknowledge a medical success, to appreciate a triumph-- here's to not taking positive overnight events for granted.

~Rebecca

PS: Also today we had a very interesting meeting with the two translators who will be aiding us in our research. We saw the sole doctor here complete a flawless LP to rule out bacterial meningitis in a 6-year-old with probable cerebral malaria, we heard the same doctor tell a 27 year-old she has untreatable ovarian cancer, and we yet again witnessed the same MD diagnose miliary TB via a chest film (on actual film). And then we left for lunch.