You can gauge how far you've traveled off the main road by the extent to which the people you pass react to the car. One to two kms, and the children react. Their eyes get wide and they point; sometimes they call out mazoongoo --white person-- and then they follow the vehicle with their eyes; their hips and skinny legs and feet rotating as necessary. When you get a little farther, you catch the stare of the adults as well. They stop what they're doing --perched on roofs laying brick, hacking at maize, carrying baskets on their heads-- and eye you and the car; swiveling their necks as the car approaches, passes, and disappears past them down the road.
To be honest, I've had moments of regret: we only make it to the hospital 1-2 mornings per week, the rest of the time we've devoted to our project. The flip side, of course, is how unique and unbelievable this experience has been. Going deep into rural Northern Malawi, meeting the people and talking to them about their medical care offers a unique glimpse of the patient experience that I haven't really seen, and probably won't again. The Malawians bring up issues and limitations to receiving medical care that could come straight from the mouths on 1st Avenue: long queues, for example, no definitive diagnosis. But then they'll rattle off problems so unique and unheard of I'm pressed to recall just how different this world is.
Speaking of pressed, I've noted I figured out the coffee? This thought seems familiar so I believe I have. Another update, though, that I'm sure I haven't shared: either our watchman didn't actually end it's life or there is More Than One Spider in Malawi, but creamed between the roll of toilet paper and it's plastic receptacle was another spider yesterday. I alerted the masses (Emily and my other housemate, M), and after carrying on for what must've been long enough M made her way into the bathroom.
I live on a farm back at home, she shared (obviously), I will catch the spider. And catch she did. She used a plastic bag as a mit and though I think her initial plan was to free him outside, it appears upon contact that she heard a scrunch and instead proclaimed him dead. If you're biting your nails in distress, know that at press time, the photo of One Of The Two Spiders in Malawi was shown to a handful of additional Malawians, who denied its poisonous bite.
So you see: I'm right at home! And you can tell as tangential as ever. Our focus group this morning was so bursting with energy and life it left a mark (minus the slowness with which this post began). It was our second Men's group, by the way. Did I mention how upon returning home from the first All Men group last week we reviewed the self-reported demographic data to find that 4 of the 6 participants were Village Headmen? And that a fifth wrote: Assistant to the Village Headman? Very diverse. This morning we had a good chortle with our two interpreters about this, before realizing that it hadn't been even remotely communicated to the person recruiting today's group that VH was not a requirent and in fact was sort of not ideal. I haven't reviewed today's demographics yet, but I believe we didn't have a repeat.
Alright. This is a little disjointed but I think that's ok. I will write again soon.
Tiwahnana (see you later),
Rebecca
To be honest, I've had moments of regret: we only make it to the hospital 1-2 mornings per week, the rest of the time we've devoted to our project. The flip side, of course, is how unique and unbelievable this experience has been. Going deep into rural Northern Malawi, meeting the people and talking to them about their medical care offers a unique glimpse of the patient experience that I haven't really seen, and probably won't again. The Malawians bring up issues and limitations to receiving medical care that could come straight from the mouths on 1st Avenue: long queues, for example, no definitive diagnosis. But then they'll rattle off problems so unique and unheard of I'm pressed to recall just how different this world is.
Speaking of pressed, I've noted I figured out the coffee? This thought seems familiar so I believe I have. Another update, though, that I'm sure I haven't shared: either our watchman didn't actually end it's life or there is More Than One Spider in Malawi, but creamed between the roll of toilet paper and it's plastic receptacle was another spider yesterday. I alerted the masses (Emily and my other housemate, M), and after carrying on for what must've been long enough M made her way into the bathroom.
I live on a farm back at home, she shared (obviously), I will catch the spider. And catch she did. She used a plastic bag as a mit and though I think her initial plan was to free him outside, it appears upon contact that she heard a scrunch and instead proclaimed him dead. If you're biting your nails in distress, know that at press time, the photo of One Of The Two Spiders in Malawi was shown to a handful of additional Malawians, who denied its poisonous bite.
So you see: I'm right at home! And you can tell as tangential as ever. Our focus group this morning was so bursting with energy and life it left a mark (minus the slowness with which this post began). It was our second Men's group, by the way. Did I mention how upon returning home from the first All Men group last week we reviewed the self-reported demographic data to find that 4 of the 6 participants were Village Headmen? And that a fifth wrote: Assistant to the Village Headman? Very diverse. This morning we had a good chortle with our two interpreters about this, before realizing that it hadn't been even remotely communicated to the person recruiting today's group that VH was not a requirent and in fact was sort of not ideal. I haven't reviewed today's demographics yet, but I believe we didn't have a repeat.
Alright. This is a little disjointed but I think that's ok. I will write again soon.
Tiwahnana (see you later),
Rebecca
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