It's the end of week two. Coming as I do from North Carolina, I have slid down Bust Your Fanny Rock into a mountain stream. The shock of that cold water takes your breath away and you find yourself in beyond your depth. You the readers must forgive my first week's thrashing efforts as I attempted coming up for air. The water is still deep and cold but I have begun to tread and my head's occasionally above the surface.
The door bell is on the outside of casualty. People push the bell when they need help moving someone into the casualty area. When this bell is pushed a medley consisting of "Jingle Bells", Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and "Joy to the World" plays repeatedly.
There are birds here whose call sounds like a cross between the crow's caw and a donkey braying.
Islamic prayers over loud speakers on one side of the hill and Christian hymns on the other side.
"Karibu" "Habari dakta" "Hujambo" "Shikamoo" are some of the ways of being acknowledged or greeted. It is odd however that these greetings generally come after I am 5 yards past the oncoming person. Occasionally these greetings are in English. "Good Morning" no matter the time of day. Some "Give me money" The always popular "How are you" At other times the greeting is Swahili but the words I don't recognize. These are often followed by cackles of laughter. I'll let you know in a few months perhaps, how I've probably been serving as the butt of jokes.
Today at 4 the Jingle Bells medley signalled a 7 year old girl in a car requiring a stretcher. She arrives in the crowded women's and childrens casualty room with blood coming from her left ear and a swollen, deformed left thigh. She had been struck by a vehicle. She is sleepy but talking. Her Mom comes in and quietly takes her hand. The last sound of my work day is the Mother's whispered voice as she leans over her daughter's battered body.
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