a rock-star to be on tour, minus even the merest whiff of luxury. It seems
like every night I find myself in a different clinic. I exaggerate slightly
but not much. So this week I returned to the first outreach clinic I'd
visited. As any smarmy estate agent (and, though I've never met a non smarmy
estate agent, I presume them too!) will tell you it's all about location,
location and location.
The clinic sits on an artery road between two major towns and provides a
useful stopping point for people walking between the two. The fact that it
has, not only a water pump, but also a fabulous clinic just gives it greater
added value. This means there is an awful lot of traffic that just visits
the clinic for one day, making things like, (heaven forbid!) the review of a
patient the following week, impossible.
The heat on the road up to the clinic was searing. For various reasons we
left late and the sun was already racing upwards into the sky. It's a hard
sun here, the heat and power from it is unremitting. Shade can offer some
comfort but really, there is absolutely no escape. Whilst the walking is
easier in terms of zero water under foot, the heat makes it exhausting.
After a while it feels like your destination is no nearer and you've spent
the last hour on a treadmill. Hamsters stuck in wheels, I can completely
sympathise! Half my rucksacks weight is taken up with drinking water. It's
like being locked in a kiln.
The first night we were there we had a lot of rubbish to burn. I emptied the
various tins and papers into a big pit and dropped in a few matches. The
rubbish hole was just outside the fence (that was still standing following a
struggle to construct it the last time that can best be described as
colossal!), so I left it to burn.
About half an hour later there was an ear splitting bang from the area where
the fire was. Just as I had had time to check all four limbs were still
attached, another explosion, coming again from the direction of the rubbish
fire. This second explosion blew a large crater in the side of the hole and
scattered bits of the fire over a large area, part of a sardines tin landed
at my feet.
People from the clinic and nearby houses came to see what had happened. We
swiftly put the fire out, with copious amounts of water. It hissed and
steamed for hours. Everyone went back to bed none the wiser.
The following day I raked over the remains with a stick. In the bottom of
the hole were two empty bullet casings. Why someone had decided that a
rubbish fire hole was a sensible place to put live bullets baffles me,
thanks to me they weren't live any more!
Other than trying to avoid starting another war the main point of this visit
was to sort out the new 2007 contracts. This job was made much easier by the
fact that everyone got a whopping pay rise. Unfortunately the process
involved taking a few basic details from each member of staff….
Name- well most got that bit right, though sometimes the spelling was
different depending on what form was being written.
Village- again, not exactly straightforward, because here it is pretty
difficult to determine where one village begins and another one ends.
Date of Birth- No one had any idea what their date of birth was. The tax
form demands a date of birth.
So what do you do when you have a crucial form to fill in and a piece of
crucial data unavailable? You make it up. So come with me, dear reader, as I
show you how to both construct an entirely fictitious birthday and thereby
commit multiple fraud.
Marcus: So, do you know what was the date of your birth?
Staff Member: No, Not sure
Marcus: OK what year where you married?
Staff Member: 1986 or 1989, I can't remember (Which reminds me of that joke,
how do you remember your wedding anniversary? Forget it once! Clearly not
the case here)
Marcus: 1986 ok? Right let's say you were twenty then so that makes your
birth year 1966, sounds reasonable?
Staff Member: Yep
Marcus: Any idea what month you were born in?
Staff Member: Nope.
Marcus: No Worries. Pick a number between one and twelve
Staff Member: Erm… Seven?
Marcus: Right, July it is! OK nearly done, any idea what date you were born?
Staff member: No.
Marcus: Not a problem. How many cooking pots do you have at home?
Staff member: Four
Form: Date of Birth
Marcus: 4/7/1966
Voila! Born on the forth of July! This process has been repeated more than
thirty times so far and we aren't even half way. Painful.
Medically, we drained 65mls of fluid off an old blokes knee, (which was very
satisfying indeed.) and the workers in the clinic brought yet another child
with cerebral malaria back from the dead. Rather embarrassingly we turned up
just as the child was turning the corner and so got all the plaudits for it'
s remarkable improvement. Completely undeserved credit is no credit at all.
The walk back was uneventful apart from three very large trucks, the first
cars I've seen in six weeks, thundering down the track. All were laden with
soldiers. The lead truck stopped and the portly commander got out and
introduced himself. My heart was pumping like a train at this point. Trying
to remember what I'd been told to say to highflying generals/army commanders
in my briefing.
It's a bit like talking to the Queen in terms of etiquette. I settled with
just calling everybody 'Sir'. As he approached I looked at the back of
truck, which was stuffed to the gills with soldiers, all young, all armed to
the teeth.
I cursed the fact I hadn't any cigarettes to offer as a bargaining chip.
Being a non-smoker can seriously endanger your life, they should warn us.
Thankfully he was very jovial and offered us a lift. Whilst it would have
turned an hours walk into a few moments drive and was thus very tempting, it
's not quite the done thing and would have got me a flight home much sooner
than anticipated.
Pleasantries exchanged they drove off, the black faces and white teeth of
the soldiers in the back of the truck disappearing into a cloud of dust and
chocking acrid fumes from the badly tuned, gurgling engine.
Tomorrow we are off again, as the outreach travelling circus rolls onto its
next location. So more in a couple of weeks, when we are back in a land of
electricity and e-mails.
