Picking up desks from Namanga in a bust vehicle

Two out of five posts about journeys represents the proportion of time I spend on the road. I’m on the road now in the same spot I have been for half an hour, waiting for our driver to fetch oil, which should stop out engine from burning out. It’s the third time today we have broken down (puncture and failed ignition being the other problems) and the sixth involuntary stop. The other three were police checks which have left us about 500 shillings poorer on account of the fact that Fred has altered his driving licence, the tyres are all bald, and we have a passenger in the back of the pick-up keeping guard over badly tied down furniture.

As if the car and the police weren’t enough Fred and our passenger have tried to claim that I understated the distance and that I should therefore add more to the 8000 shillings they asked for to cover this return trip to Namanga (bribes included by the way). I nodded vaguely but as soon as we get back to Kibera I will explain that if they actually had a car that worked and a proper driving licence the 300 km round trip really could have taken six hours instead of ten and that they would have had a good deal. If they complain I might pull out the ‘repeat business’ card (‘I’m planning another trip to Namanga next week so if we can agree on 8000 now then I’m more likely to give you a call’). It would be a lie though, this pick-up has seen its last Maasai village.

K-NHS

On three separate occasions in January and February this year I had a spell of weakness interspersed with fever each lasting about a week. It was not a new experience and each time I started to wilt I was reminded of the Giardia Intestinitus that I lived with in India for several months before it was diagnosed. This parasite need not give you any more aggressive symptoms than what they call ‘port malaise’ (laziness?) but eventually it can really get you down. After experiences in UK trying to get obscure illnesses diagnosed I was more depressed about the idea of starting the testing process than the idea of feeling periodically weak but regardless I decided to stop off at David’s pharmacy on Olympic high street.

David taught me all about Typhoid, Malaria, Amoebiasis, Metronidizol, Tinidizol, and Doxicycline in much more detail than I needed (he is generous with his time but apparently unable to detect when a customer is no longer listening). Despite our lengthy discussion about my insides he was unable to make a diagnosis based on my symptoms alone so he suggested I should go straight to St Pery’s clinic to be put under a microscope.

Ten minutes later I was in a roadside clinic having a blood drained out of me by a lady called Jacintha who was wearing a white coat. This gave me confidence that she might once have qualified as a nurse as did the fact that she took the needle out of a sealed packet and washed her hands thoroughly before scouring for a healthy vein. While she examined the blood she sent me off to do the other tests (details spared) and by the time I returned she was able to tell me that at least I didn’t have malaria or typhoid. While this was good news it didn’t fill me with elation because being diagnosed with a treatable disease is at least one step better than been told your results are clear when you feel rubbish.

For the rest of the examinations I had to go to another clinic a two minute walk away where they had better microscopes. I was invited into the lab during the process and after less than five minutes I was on my way back to David’s pharmacy with a receipt for my tests (700 shillings - £5) and a hand written chit asking him to give me the relevant drugs for amoebiasis. I felt great. In a few hours the unwelcome guests in my gut would be dead.

David said I should compliment the Tinidazole with Doxicycline and while I was at it I should probably ‘de-worm’, as all people living in Olympic are advised to do every three months. This meant I would be on a concoction of 5 pills a day for 4 days. All the drugs cost 650 shillings and I took my first pills less than an hour after I had first dropped in at David’s pharmacy.

In UK when I started feeling ill I would have booked an appointment with my GP in our local village which I might have got the next day or maybe three days later. I would have had to drive to this appointment and the doctor would have suggested I have a blood test in our nearby town. He would give me the relevant paper-work and I would be able to drive there the following morning. For the other tests I would have had to take them home and drop them back at the surgery on another occasion. The results would come back several days later prompting another consultation which would have concluded with a prescription for the relevant medication perhaps a week after making the first phone call (this was my experience the first time I had Giadia in 2005). The consultations and tests would have been free in the UK and the drugs may or may not have been free but I would have wasted money on transport and I may have had to take time off work to go through this process. In Kenya I paid 1350 shillings (£10) and the whole thing took less than an hour.

Disclaimer: Always wash your hands before eating in Kibera. It is advised to filter and boil tap water for at least one minute before drinking it. Check if needles have been sterilised before you are punctured. David is not a doctor he has just spent a lot of time on wikipedia. If symptoms persist consult a qualified doctor.