I'm on the countdown to my first leave in earnest now. A week today I shall be jetting off to Dubai to stay with my friend Helen, who left the UK 2 weeks before me to start a job there. There, however, the similarity ends. We have made much fun of her over the past few weeks, regarding her posts about joining the "Tuesday Yacht Club", her day trips to dive in Oman, and her fabulous brunches - our lives are clearly very different from each others at the moment, but we still share the same ups and downs, missing friends and family, and adjusting to new lives, and I can't wait to see her. From there I'm off home to the UK to see family and more friends, before returning to my little compound. I've been here 11 weeks now, and the last few have really begun to feel like real life at last, and not just a working holiday.
After the medical evacuation run which totalled 3 patients in 2 weeks, things have calmed down a bit, and we have had a steady stream of the usual Malarias and Typhoids, tempered with the coughs and colds that people also seem to think we have a cure for - I have a much greater empathy with my GP colleagues now - hats off to you guys, it does require a lot of patience ! We are combating the cabin fever by trying to get out more - and guess what ?? It actually works. The compound, and everyone in it, is calmer, happier, and not quite as mad (although a bit of madness is quite funny)
We had a lovely night out with a fellow DTN (Diploma in Tropical Nursing) graduate last week - our course leader would have been proud of us, networking away. Holly has come here on a 2 year contract with VSO, to try and improve the hospital in Yei, a rural outpost "down south". We had dinner, gin and laughs, and made a great contact who we can visit - all part of the "getting out of the compound" plan. We were a little jealous of her posting, truth be told, although 2 years is a very long time. She is extremely capable and motivated though, so I'm sure she will be fabulous. I have added a link to her blog on the right for those of you that want to see what the rural experience has in store for her. We all agreed that the DTN had certainly changed all of our lives - for the better.
Our new Dr has been making me laugh all week. He is a very tall, thin Dinka (the tribe), who has a very dry sense of humour, and is still not entirely sure what to make of us all. I think he thinks we are all quite certifiable. I made it very clear from the start that nurses in the UK do not tidy up after doctors, did I look like his Mother? To which he just looked puzzled....until I showed him where the laundry was, and how to change the bedclothes between each patient...then I think he got it. I think he's still wondering why I think I look like his Mother though. Although his English is very good, on occasion things do get lost in translation, and Andrew has been taking great delight in the fact that he asked me if he could stay in my room. After a slightly horrified look from me, he did then qualify that with "while you are away!!!" Phew. That was not helped by him asking me if I would "Like to go to Nimule" (a game reserve by the Ugandan border). Amid much giggling from Andrew, turns out he was merely asking me if I'd ever been there, just out of interest.
I even managed to get to the pool this weekend, to lie about out of the sun as it was just too hot, and try to ignore the plethora of Lebanese men prancing about in unfeasibly tight Speedos. As the sun goes down, they come out to play - it really is quite disconcerting...
I met a very nice colleague of a friend of mine, a Syrian chap, who looked a bit miserable. When I asked him how long he had been in South Sudan, he swiftly said " one month and 20 days". " Not counting the days then?" I asked innocently enough, to which he replied - "every day, and I'm Syrian, and have worked in Egypt for 6 months..." For those of you following the depressing news, you will realise that he really is not having the best time.
It is certainly not a happy place, this new country I have chosen to live in. A huge proportion of the population (something like 75% I think) are under the age of 25, having been in conflict for so long. There are few children on the street, and those that are, are suspicious and shy - completely the opposite of the children I met in Kenya. But I am beginning to find that I am finding my place here. My short walks to the local shop, are now met with cautious "Hellos" from the Boda Boda drivers who hang out on the corner waiting for business. The guy on the other corner waved at me this week. A few kids shouted "Kawadja Kawadja!!!!! and giggled (generic name for foreigners). A couple of elegant ladies in simple wraps, smiled at me and shook my hand as I went past. Slowly, but slowly, I am becoming part of this place.
Still, can't beat a bit of R&R.
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