somewhere deep inside, something’s got a hold on you

the day finally arrived! my very own medical camp, made possible through the generous donations of all of you and the amazing anna.

the days leading up to saturday saw us getting more and more excited; anna spent a good couple of hours sticky-taping a toothpaste box to the back of a toothbrush (all 200 of them), last minute phone calls from marcus telling me about the shit he had to deal with from certain organisations (this country can be so exhausting), heading into the city centre in heavy traffic to buy stethoscopes and BP cuffs to use on the day and then to give as donations for the future medical camps… it was as exciting as it was stressful. but it was so goddamn worth it.

rubiri primary school grounds

I hardly slept on friday night – partially due to the fact we had a few beers with some other volunteers at our local bar & may have been a bit inebriated – but also because I was so excited. something we had been planning for a while was finally happening and was now coming to life.

a very early morning saw me up at 6am (although I was awake well before then) and getting a matatu with anna and her friend nikki, who helped out, to meet the other volunteers (ashley, richard and sarah) at the local shopping centre just before 7am so we could get going, naivasha is about 2hrs from nairobi in good traffic. we arrived just after 9am, and the best part was seeing patients already waiting when we arrived. I was actually a little worried, partially due to the fact that the camp was being held in a really rural location – rubiri primary school, on the outskirts of naivasha – and for patients to get there, they would have either had to get a piki piki (motorbike) which would cost money that not many people have, or to walk for quite a few hours. so seeing people there made me grin like an absolute loser.

patients already waiting to be seen

the biggest thing I’ve learnt about medical camps is that it’s not about the number of people who come. you don’t want to have huge huge numbers of people who come because you’d be so pressed for time and resources, they wouldn’t get the care and treatment they deserve. it’s about the quality of the care they receive, that each patient is listened to and treated accordingly.

a slightly negative part of the lead up to the camp was the crap marcus had to deal with from certain groups of people – apparently there was some shit storm about the people who we had organised to do the HIV testing, apparently the certificates held by the ‘testers’ were different to what is normally accepted and the testers would have to be met to assess their ability; ridiculous, considering these people are qualified and would have been doing what they do for quite some time. it sounded like they weren’t happy about us having HIV testing available at the camp… and this only came to light a couple of days before saturday. we couldn’t take away the HIV testing only a few days before; it had been advertised in the flyers we had printed and via the community health workers who had a loud speaker and we going through the surrounding villages and towns telling people to come on saturday. there’s a massive importance on the role of trust; patients have to feel as though they can trust whoever is treating them, otherwise they would never come back to another camp. if we took away something we had promised would be at the camp, would these patients trust anything we said again? simply put, no. there was a lot riding on this camp too as KCC are hoping to build a primary school just next to rubiri primary school. this was to be the chance that the people in the area would get to know KCC and what they’re all about, and they would trust that we’re delivering what we say we will deliver. and seeing the amazing work that KCC has done in their early development schools, for them to have their own primary school would be amazing; hence this camp being a big deal.

a classic example of the political bullshit we have to deal with here in kenya. it’s so hard to do something good for others when you’re jumping through hoops trying to make everyone happy.

the camp started at about 10:30am, a little bit behind schedule but there was lots to be done once we arrived. even though marcus, anna (a different one) and steinar, plus a few others, were already there and had clearly been getting things organised, we had to sweep the floors of the classrooms we’d be working in, figure out what classrooms would be used for cervical cancer screening and HIV testing and black out the windows for privacy, set up the registration area (and later a tent to protect flavia and anna (the norwegian one) from the blazing sun), set up the pharmacy with all the medications we had in stock, organise desks into makeshift tables for doctor/patient conversations etc etc. lots to do, but lots of hands make light work. and man, did we have a lot of hands!

getting organised!

after the debacle of gaining a medical licence for the day (the kenyan government got incredibly strict about ensuring only qualified medical professionals work in a volunteer capacity, enforcing that volunteers need to ‘purchase’ a licence in order to work here. it is a really important thing that has happened though, which I’m glad to have been to first one to get it organised so future medical volunteers can easily get it sorted.) mine cost $100 which covers me for a month, even though I only needed it to work one day – and even then it wasn’t like I was doing anything that would put anyone’s lives in any danger, all I was just gonna do was work in triage – taking patients vital signs… that’s hardly cause for concern. bloody political drama, but that’s a story to be told another day with a few beers.

triage, hectic as per usual

little leo had his first ever checkup

patients receiving their uji/porridge

the day flowed really well; richard, ashley and nikki helped with the public education forums and did a fantastic job. we had oral hygiene, hand washing, germs and reproductive health (a lady from kenya red cross did that talk) and every child got a toothbrush and toothpaste, then we had enough for almost all of the adults.

the tooth brushing talk

the hand washing talk

handing out toothbrushes and toothpastes

anna practising hand washing with some kids

statistics wise, we had 229 patients who registered: 50 women had cervical cancer screening, 50 patients volunteered to be tested – 31 of which had never been tested before… that is an incredible result. to have 31 people now know their status when before they had no idea is fantastic! there was also a room for family planning, we also had immunisations should any kids need them but only one had a measles injection – didn’t have any other kids needing any. but at least we were prepared.

eating lunch while we work

cleaning the uji cups

sah hipster

we saw our last patient at about 3:30pm, although I’m sure a couple of extras came later on. the long task of packing up everything, including medications that we’re left over (counting them as well), putting the desks back into the classrooms, taking down the blackout shades, cleaning all the dishes from the day. by the time we had our debrief, it was time to head home. anna and I were going to go to a festival that night but decided against it a few days prior, as I was leaving so soon and wanted to spend as much time with my host family as possible. turns out we were so exhausted we probably would’ve collapsed the second we had a beer and listening to some music! it always surprises me how tired I am after medical camps; this was my fourth one in four months, and each time I feel like I come home and pass out. whether it’s just the long day in general, or having to use the ‘medical knowledge’ part of my brain – which I’m not really using here – I always sleep like a log that night!

we were definitely delirious by this stage

honestly this camp couldn’t have been done without the huge support and organisation of marcus, of the KCC slum project. the fact that he can organise a medical camp amongst all of the other work he does at KCC is amazing, and hugely appreciated. also a big thanks to the volunteers from NVS, staff from kijabe mission hospital, district ministry of health, NHIF, kenya red cross, the public health office, area administration and of course, where we held the camp, rubiri primary school.

and of course, you guys. all of you who donated to my “taking healthcare to kenya” fund, this happened thanks to you. what I’ve done in kenya over the past 4 months hasn’t been as medical as what I thought it would be, and you’ve all been so supportive of ‘little ray of hope’, where I’ve spent the majority of my time, and some of the donation money. but I was over the moon to do something medical – your donations went towards the meeting that was held a month ago with all of the above mentioned organisations, buying medications for the patients, ensuring we had an allowance for the staff members who worked during the day (only kenyans received this), printing flyers to give to the kids at rubiri primary school to give to their family and neighbours, purchasing enough toothbrushes and toothpaste for almost every patient, buying the HIV test kits, mobilising community health workers in the days prior with loud speakers to get the word out, purchasing my medical licence so I could actually work during the day, ensuring we had food for the patients during the day, transport of goods and volunteers, providing lunch for the staff who worked during the day… there are so many more things but I honestly can’t think of them now (when the report of the day is written, then I can let you know!)

the a-team

thank you, thank you, thank you. I can’t say it enough.

there must be sunshine beyond that rain

finally finished all of the children’s profiles this morning, here’s a sneak peak at one…

christabelle, a beautiful three year old girl whose mother was 14 when she gave birth and passed away. she loves colouring and skipping rope. when she grows up, she just wants to be smiling.

have a look at little ray of hope school under ‘our children’ to see all of the profiles on our kids. it’s so hard reading some of their stories, but these kids are so resilient and each one deserves the whole world.

and I keep dancing on my own

as my time in kenya is coming to a close, I’ve been thinking about everything that’s happened in the past four months.

and I have to say, for living in the same country since june 30, it’s been pretty bloody eventful. started with working at a family planning clinic but that didn’t work out as planned, had my wallet stolen, the nairobi airport burnt down, did a two day outreach to the garbage slum and two IDP (internally displaced persons) camps, rode a bike down through hells gate and saw the real life ‘pride rock’, moved to working out of a clinic where we’d go testing people for HIV in the surrounding slums, went on safari, was shown a school for HIV infected and affected kids, kept working at said school, recognised how much help this school needed to get back on their feet, created a new website for them and starting child sponsorship opportunities for these kids, experienced a terrorist attack 15 minutes up the road and was scared to leave the house for a couple of days, have become incredibly close to my youngest host sister vicky, dealt with a toilet that doesn’t flush properly and a shower that electric shocks you every single time you touch the tap, worked at three medical camps (four as of this coming saturday) and given checkups to as well as treated over 1000 patients on those three separate days, went on a day trip to the equator and hiked down a waterfall and up an old volcano, become very used to being home before dark and/or strapping on a pair if I’m out and about when it’s getting dark, copped many wedding proposals and even been asked to be a mans second wife (don’t know if that’s a compliment or not), got used to people staring at you when you walk down the street, met some really insane and some really amazing people, had three people shot and killed outside of our compound one night a couple of weeks ago, been referred to as my host mums eldest daughter, had my heart broken numerous times since being here but worst of all when a four year old girl at ‘little ray of hope’ received a positive HIV test result, was knocked off a motorbike when hit by a car, had my phone stolen, laughed about a gang of kenyans failing miserably to distract me and steal things from my bag in a matatu etc etc etc.

the biggest lesson I’ve learnt here is that things don’t always turn out the way you expect. and you know what? that’s not a bad thing. particularly as a volunteer, you have to be open to work where you’re needed, and that’s most likely to be not where you expected. if you come to a country like kenya and try and impose changes you thought of at home before assessing the need when you get to the country, you won’t get very far. things happen so differently here. if I really had’ve kicked up a stink when I first got to kenya about my first placement being shit, it’s highly likely I wouldn’t be where I am now, wouldn’t have met the people I have, wouldn’t be working where I am, wouldn’t have helped the people I have. and who cares that I came to kenya thinking I’d do a shit ton of medical work and the fact that it didn’t happen that way. turns out my medical skills haven’t been needed as much as general willingness to help out wherever I can. that the last month or so have knocked me for six and really tested my technology skills making the website for little ray of hope is so not what I thought I’d do. that I’ve become a somewhat ‘spokesperson’ for these kids to any visitors who come along is so not what I thought I’d do. that a bunch of kids can make my heart burst with absolute love and adoration, it must be the feeling parents have.

I almost wish I wasn’t going moving countries now, as much as I’m looking forward to a change in scenery, it would be great to stay here to see out the year for these kids. but there might be something similar waiting for me in arusha, tanzania. who knows.

so if any of you guys who read my blog want to volunteer – wherever it may be in the world – to make a real difference you have to be prepared to do anything and everything. I haven’t changed the world, but I have helped start to change the lives of 53 beautiful kids who deserve the entire world, and then some.

worry is wasteful and useless in times like these

here is my hilarious iphone replacement, aptly called a “mi-fone”. and no I didn’t choose it because of how similar it sounds to iphone, I chose it because it cost approx AU$20 and I am still living on a budget. graysh.

I don’t think I’ve used a phone with actual buttons since first year uni. before, I was typing a message (literally, this phone brings a whole new meaning to the word ‘type’) and tried to scroll up to see the first part of the message I’d typed and treated the phone like it was a touch screen.

#firstworldproblems

and if I’m flying solo, at least I’m flying free

material possessions have so much more as well as so much less meaning to me now, more so than they ever did before africa. ‘less meaning’ in the sense that you really don’t need a whole lot of stuff to make your life better, it’s about the people in your life that make it worthwhile, not the expensive shit you can accumulate. and ‘more meaning’ in the sense that you don’t need every single gadget on the market to be happy. it might be shocking to hear this, but phones these days do take pretty decent pictures (sometimes) and considering most people only take photos to upload them to facebook, I can guarantee you no one is getting excited about the “amaaaaaaazing” pictures your SLR camera takes when they ‘like’ one of your pictures.

I’m not one for expensive things, but I do thoroughly cherish my iphone; not only was it a gift from my hardworking and generous parents, it had everything I needed on it, and for an extremely disorganised person, that’s pretty bloody handy.
so it’s no wonder that I’m devastated it was stolen.

so many candid snapshots of good coffee and cocktails and wine and beaches and new friends in europe, so many adorable pictures of my kids at ‘little ray of hope’ and of how my life has been here in kenya over the past 14 weeks. so many notes of little things I didn’t want to forget. but I guess that’s why god gave us brains, with this thing called a memory. it’s all ‘up here’, now I have to picture it how I remember it. and I guess it also means none of you will have to sit through those god-awful slide shows of all my pictures when I come home. to be honest, there weren’t that many that you’d want to see anyway… they were really only appropriate for instagram #coffeeinparis #coffeeinturkey #coffeeinberlin

not only have I realised that I am too trusting of people, but I’ve also learnt that that’s why we pay the big bucks for travel insurance.

take my hand, take my whole life too

last friday, a beautiful baby girl was born to a mother of three, weighing only 2.2kg. that same day, she was also abandoned. her mother didn’t want her as she had a different father to her other three children – the man she’d divorced from, but was now getting back together with. and she couldn’t bring a child back that wasn’t his. so she left the clinic where she had given birth only a few hours earlier, without her child, refusing to breast feed, refusing to claim responsibility, without naming her daughter.

the clinic where she was born is just below ‘little ray of hope’. they know evelyn, the principal of the school, can never say no to children (hence why she works so hard at the school for these kids) so they asked her to take the baby home and care for her, indefinitely. and evelyn couldn’t say no, I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say the word in the last three and a half months I’ve known her.

so just shy of her 45th birthday, which was yesterday, evelyn became a mother to her eighth child; some biological, some adopted. this is a lady who doesn’t receive an income and just manages off the donations from the school; which for the first six months of this year were far and few between. she tells me, “I couldn’t leave her alone, I couldn’t leave her by herself”. the clinic, she tells me, couldn’t push the mother to take her baby home, as it’s quite common for unwanted newborns to be placed in plastic bags and be tied shut and left.

there are no words.

this monday, evelyn told me all about this. we go into class, teach the kids, come out for tea while the kids take their porridge, and then out of the blue, she asks me the name of my sister and best friend. I tell her I have a few best friends, but meagan is one and my sister, elizabeth, is also my best friend. god it sounds so weird calling her elizabeth, that’s so not right, but when I try to explain that no one calls her that and that we call her rowdy, she did what I like to call the ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about but I’ll laugh and smile and pretend I understand’ laugh that so many kenyans do and have done since I’ve been here.

yesterday, after the kids facetimed with rowdy in class (isn’t technology bloody amazing?!), evelyn tells me she’s thought long and hard about it but she decided to name her daughter after my sister. elizabeth, but will be called beth for short. she also said she hoped that her beth would grow up to be like my sister; determined and intelligent, maybe even go to law school herself. she also hopes that rowdy will one day be the lawyer for the kids at ‘little ray of hope’.

so next year, when I come back to kenya to see how my angels are doing, which will be whenever I get given leave from being an ambo, I’m bringing my sister. I really want to share this beautiful yet heartbreaking place with her, and for her to meet the kids. and now, she also has to meet her namesake, a beautiful baby girl called beth.

I am so much older than I can take

incase anyone is wondering how my mental health is going after all the things I’ve seen here, this post is for you.

some days it’s hard, some days you want to come home and not think about anything, not remember anything – when you walk past beggars on the dirt road I live on who are crippled and deformed from contracting polio, when you see kids running around with shoes on that have no soles (I don’t really see the point), when you see now people live here under sheets of corrugated iron.

some days you do have to switch off, and on those days I have what I like to call a “first world afternoon”. it’s pretty easy to do. it involves drinking red wine, eating salt and vinegar pringles and watching the sex and the city movies. in bed.

proof that while a big part of me has changed, a lot of me is still the same.

ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

when the tears come streaming down your face

six weeks ago I wrote about how difficult it has been to deal with some of the things I’d been since being in africa. I remember thinking that even though some things are really hard to see on a daily basis, but that with some time, I’m sure these things would get easier to deal with.

it felt like there was nothing left to shock or upset me here in africa. until yesterday.

the kids at ‘little ray of hope’ were all tested for HIV, and it was heartbreaking. side note: their parents had to consent to this, as they’re not yet 13 (age to consent for yourself to get tested). most of them were screaming and unbelievably scared, whether this was for the needle prick required to gather the blood for the sample, or for the test itself, I don’t know. yes I know it’s a great thing for people to know their status, as the earlier you start on ARV (anti-retro viral therapy) drugs, the better. but these kids are between two and a half and six. they’re babies.

out of the ever growing junior class, now at 52 kids, we had one positive result. many would view this as a good ratio, but it’s one positive result too many. it broke my heart. obviously I can’t write their name for privacy reasons, but this kid is only 4 years old. four. a baby. and they’ve got a very hard road ahead of them; even with all the medical advances that are occurring, being HIV positive in africa carries more than its fair share of risk – the stigma that still surrounds being positive here is astounding. being ostracised from your town, village or tribe can be common place. or at the opposite end of the spectrum, some believe it’s not that big of a deal, and you shouldn’t be worried about spreading it, because “having sex with a child can cure you”. that makes me sick – don’t even get me started on how backwards some things are here.

the people who did the testing recognised the child’s last name, and know that one of the parents receives treatment from their clinic. this child’s mum is positive – having a child who is positive is inevitable. and that’s sad too, that this child didn’t really have a chance. they were going to be positive, almost certainly.

but it’s the fact that this had to happen, that we had to organise a day for these kids to be tested. kids at home don’t go to school, line up, get given a number (for anonymity reasons), get their fingers stabbed and bled so they can be tested for HIV. one of the biggest differences between home and here. in fact it’s a huge difference between here and most of the rest of the world. I’m not a parent yet, and I don’t plan to be one for some time, but this felt like one of my own kids who was given a positive result. I was gutted, honestly my heart was hurting. I know this child, I’ve spent the last three months with them – laughing, teaching, playing, smiling. but I won’t treat them any differently now that I know their status, except for maybe a few more cuddles before I leave.

we’re doing it for the kids

for the past month or so, I’ve been in the process of developing a new website for the little legends at ray of hope, now to be called “little ray of hope” – it may seem like only a small name change but will hopefully bring big changes to the futures of these kids. short term goals? ensuring they have food for breakfast and lunch. it may only seem like a small feat, but it means more to these kids than any of us will ever know. long term goals? getting them sponsors to attend formal schools so they can grow up to be the policemen, doctors, pilots and drivers they dream of being. but more on that in the coming month while it all gets (somewhat) finalised.

I’ve tried to bring as many volunteers here over the past three months, so they too can see the incredible life changing acts evelyn does for these kids; how tirelessly she works to get as many children off the streets and starting school.
if anyone ever needs an extra reason to smile, just take a look at the crazy/beautiful kids I get to see (almost) everyday. there is so much love in my heart for them.

careless and young, free as the birds that fly

you know you’re in africa when you’ve developed a decent tan, you get in the shower and your ‘tan’ washes down the drain.

and I couldn’t be more in my element.