Much has happened between my last blog post and now. I managed to have x1 laptop crash, survive 1 month without a laptop and I bought a new laptop which I was too scared to use for an additional month in fear of viruses that lurk in the shadows of cyber space. Amidst these technical difficulties I managed to find an awesome job, survive a scuba diving accident that transformed me into a gargoyle, buy a new pair of trainers, move my belongings out of Ingwavuma and start a new in the booming Metropolis of Pietermaritzburg.
During my last few weeks in Ingwavuma I found myself on a roller coaster of emotion. I was counting down the days to my last ever clinic visit, I would rejoiced when I realised that I many never have to treat “a snake” in anyone’s tendon again (a number of patients described their symptoms as a snake in their tendon when asked to describe their presenting problem). Yet the thought of starting a fresh without my new found family resulted in some serious ugly crying (see Table 1 for Tracey’s Tear Triage). The ever present social cloud that was once devoid of young Western company was lifted in the last 2 month when 3 rays of sunshine in the form of “Overseas” Doctors braved the treacherous road to Ingwavuma. Along with their generally delightful presence they brought new adventures, laughs and dance moves that would put Beyonce and Shakira to shame.
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| The "Overseas" Sun beams (Left to right): Dr Prof. Sheddington, Jesus' Brother (named by the nurses) and Sargent Naybo |
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| Table 1: Tracey's Tear Triage |
My year in Ingwavuma was interesting; I had buckets of fun coupled with life lessons. I learnt how to cook, how SARS works, how to drive long distances, how to travel light (at least with toiletries-you travel light by buying travel sized bottles ;) I learnt a little bit of the Zulu language, a lot about Zulu culture and how to transform a Ford Figo to a Mars Rover. In addition to learning much, I feel as though my eyes were opened to a host of issues that I was wasn’t completely aware of. I saw what it really means to be “penniless”, I started to comprehend the magnitude of the HIV epidemic and the impact it has on the lives of people, I have seen the great social discrepancy that exists in South Africa through the massive gap that exists between the rich and the poor, I started to understand the pivotal role education plays in sculpting your outlook on life and the importance of a good support system. Ingwavuma is like a wart…it grows on you. You may not like your wart, but it is part of you and when it’s gone, you can’t help but notice the empty space where it once was. I have compiled a highlights package of memorable moments/quotable quotes to keep the spirit of Mosvold alive.
Mosvold Highlights
Psych Patient Encounters:
Unlike other hospitals where psych patients are kept in a separate area, Mosvold (due to the lack of space) allowed psych patients to roam freely and lodge in and among patients in the general ward. Every now and then whilst screen the ward for patients I would have an encounter with a psych patient. Some days I’d have to stop them from climbing out of their cot bed, on other occasions the patient would direct either an inappropriate, incoherent or sometimes insightful comments to me. As a physio student I had very little interaction with psych patients with the result, I was not sure what was considered appropriate communication with them. Unlike my colleague who was an Occupational Therapist who had lots of exposure to psych patients I had not yet developed the “sixth sense” to spot the subtle signs of a psych patient.
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| Me in my professional pants screening the ward for patients when a patient greets me. I failed to notice the Crazy in her eyes. |
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| I continue my screening, and go to the last bed in the room which is in a corner, the patient moves "with me" but I don't pay attention |
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| I pay no attention-until she corners me an starts caressing the small of my back |
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| As I stood in my corner with her hand on my back I came to the realisation that she was psych patient |
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| Just before I fell prey to sexual harassment, my housemate/colleague/friend jumped in and saved the day with her mad skills of assertion. She put on her assertive face and voice, reprimanded the patient and asked her where she belonged-to which she responded appropriately.
Zulu speaking Asians:
No corner of the globe is too far for Asians to open a store that stocks everything from Tokolosh salts to styrofoam cups. I respect their skills of entrepreneurship and their ability to adapt to their environment, that being said, I couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of shock and amusement when I heard Zulu spoken with an Asian accent.
Singing and Dancing:
Rhythm and harmony are 2 things that see no age or gender in this community. Most events/gatherings are opened with a prayer. The prayer is “done” by singing a hymn in perfect harmony-something I could never do justice through description.
Pick up Artists:
Who ever thought that pickup lines were only designed for Christmas crackers has never been to Ingwavuma. I had the privilege of hearing the best of the best executing their lines text book style.
The best line was at PEP as I gathered my bags to leave.
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| Me: Acknowledging a fellow shopper with a standard nod as I merrily gather the goods I have purchased |
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| Fellow shopper ruins the moment of greeting by speaking |
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| His persistence and tone of voice raise doubt and suspicion....my heart sinks |
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| Cue: Double cheese pick up line-I hang my head in shame! |
The Community and Mosvold Family:
All of the people who made Mosvold/Ingwavuma home to me-my colleagues, bible study girls and my friends. Although the community members may have driven me to the edge with their ridiculous comments, difficult requests and sometimes crazy expectations my year would not have been the same without them!
Race Chameleon:
After 12 months at Mosvold one would think that the curiosity surrounding my racial classification would have died-alas, I received comments and questions to the bitter end.
One incident in particular stands out when 3 Indian construction workers accused me of racism.
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| Me: In Spar minding my own business I see the group of on coming construction workers |
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| One man passes a comment which I choose to ignore (as every true Capetonian would) |
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| All three of them start leering, I continue to ignore the comments |
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| And then they drop the race bomb....yes uncle, I ignore my family and my reflection every day |
Although I miss my life in the bush, I can say that I am loving “city” living even though my move to Pietermaritzburg has come with its own baptism of fire.
