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Thursday, after an uncharacteristically slow day at the hospital, Dr. Kubacki (my host) and I headed to the airport in pursuit of my luggage. My bag made it to Johannesburg on Wednesday some ten hours after I had peaced out. The quite helpful folks there in South Arica placed my bag on a next-day flight scheduled to land in Lubango at 4:50pm; meshing perfectly with the lack of to-do's at the hospital. The airport is a handful of miles east of town; accessed by a single road which passes through one of the largest and poorest neighborhoods. Traffic is unpredictable, taking anywhere from 20 to 120 minutes to travel five miles. In our Diesel Land Cruiser, we hit very little traffic!
Pulling in a couple minutes after 5pm, we parked and headed in to the TAAG Airlines counter. We were informed that the plane had come and gone and that the boss had left for the day. There was, apparently, nothing that could be done and we were advised to return at 7am. This is relatively standard customer service here in Lubango. Workers work but only during their designated shifts and there is little effort to take on a customer's concern in a personal way. Deflated and wearing the same clothes, we trudged home (through heavier traffic, of course).
Adding to this frustration is the requirement of one's presence. There is no phone number to dial in inquiry and, even if there were, it would accomplish little. This being so, I skipped clinic on Friday. Betsy (mom Kubacki), Ellie (daughter Kubacki, de facto translator), and I arrived at the airport a little after 8am. So began my in-depth exposure to navigating the Angolan workforce. Our first TAAG employee looked in a restricted access area and said she was unable to find it, "but please wait, I will get my boss." Wait is a very loose term. After about thirty minutes, the next level in the airline hierarchy came to help. He made a minimal attempt to use the bag's tracking number but also instructed us to wait. Eventually, after another forty minutes, we were introduced to Lucas. Lucas is the exception to this less-than-desireable portrait of the Angolan employee. He was bright-faced, determined, and personable. He was on the phone, in and out of the office, and continually updating us. I eventually deciphered my TAAG-specific baggage claim number from an e-mail (remember, I had last seen the suitcase in Columbus), leading to the discovery of my bag in Luanda, Angola's capital. He assured us that the bag would arrive tomorrow at 10am and even took Betsy's phone number. Having been there for three and a half hours, we left empty-handed but with a plan in place. Lucas even refused my tip, what a guy...
The afternoon was then more or less free time around the house. The Duke (with whom I share a birthday) came to mind as Friday was not necessarily a day off but rather an off day. I spent a lot of time blogging, reading, and catching-up on e-mail.
Friday night in Lubango is Pizza Night. It is an open house for any and all English-speakers in town to gather, chow, and have a good time. Pizza Night takes place at Mitcha. Mitcha is a neighborhood and also the colloquial name for the compound where Dr. Foster (CEML's head honcho) and a couple of other families live. Walking into Dr. Foster's home, I was greeted by a large kitchen table covered by about fifteen homemade pizzas, thirty-some people to meet, and a beautiful zebra skin covering an entire wall. Pizza Night was a truly enjoyable time. I had a great conversation with Peggy, Dr. Foster's wife, and met lots of new people. There are teachers, students, missionaries, doctors, missionary doctors, pilots, friends, family, and folks passing through that all make it to Pizza Night, making for a varied sample of experience and interest. The pizza was so delicious that I imagine Instagrammers would have Instagrammed their plates in the developed world. I was then privy to a movie nightcap back home.
I was to be separated from the Kubacki's for the rest of the weekend. I woke before 7am on Saturday so as to see them off and to
With fresh underwear and a new lease on life (cause and effect?), I was now ready to jump with both feet into the heart of this trip. Honestly, I felt that I had been off to a stunted start. Without a stethoscope or contact solution, I found myself fighting an attitude of inability and hindrance. I resolved to turn things around.
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I phoned Birgit. Birgit is a fourth-year surgery resident here, for the third time, from Germany. She is afforded six weeks, "holiday," in her training program and she prefers to spend them, all at once, in service at CEML. I am pretty pumped to have met Birgit. She has an impressive practicality about her and is adding to the diversity of experience that is this trip. Brigit was on call for the weekend and planned to leave the hospital soon en route to a nearby tourist spot called Tundavala.
I hopped in her car around 5pm and we were off. Climbing the hills west of town, we passed the time comparing medicine and medical education in Germany and the U.S. Tundavala is a volcanic fissure at the edge of the plateau I am currently on. The altitude here exceeds 7,000 ft. with a sheer drop of almost 4,000 ft.! I will let the pictures do the talking (typing?).
On a much more macabre but historically relevant note, Tundavala was put to use during the long civil war which finally ceased in 2002. You can imagine...
Birgit and I returned to the hospital afterwards to see a couple new patients in the ER. We tucked them in and were off to Mitcha, where she is staying. I scored some dinner at the Foster's and headed next door to the home of Dr. Foster's niece. Dr. Foster's sister, Sheila, was there and, over coffee, shared a lot with me about Angola's history and current sociopolitical climate. Birgit was again called in and I opted to go with back to CEML. After some relatively intensive work, we stabilized a patient and were done for the night. I was home after 11:30pm to an empty Kubacki house, save for the cat.
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Birgit again picked me up early Sunday morning. This time she was accompanied by Kiera, a fourth-year Australian medical student, who is here for another two weeks. Our trio headed up the mountain to make rounds on the patients. We divided, conquered, and were able to finish laying eyes on everyone by a little after 11am.
Sunday was culturally informative but medically frustrating at the hospital. We did have one patient come in overnight who was quite sick. She complained of non-specific abdominal pain and her physical exam was concerning. On ultrasound, her belly was rife with a turbid fluid. We were hampered because the laboratory and operating room staff were both in town attending church services: it would be several hours before any studies or operations could be performed. With medicine on pause for the moment, we headed to the nearby village of Humpata.
Our afternoon plans were to have a picnic and hike with Dr. Steve Collins. Dr. Steve Collins is an amazing man. He was born in Angola, completed medical training in Canada, remained there for several years, and has returned to Angola full time, living in his quaint country home with a, "garden," larger than some farms. After several years of general practice, Dr. Collins took it upon himself to learn more about ophthalmology. He now lives and practices two weeks at a time: two weeks at CEML and two weeks as a one-man opthalmology service visiting severely needing villages in literally all corners of the country. A true sage of a man and an instant inspiration, he sees forty ocular consults and performs fifteen cataract surgeries in a typical day. His SUV resembles a rhinoceros thanks to a massive, front-mounted radio antenna. He radios from places without cellular coverage and, when not rocking the cassette deck, can jam to the likes of the BBC World Service and Voice of America. This dude is awesome.
After a nice lunch and time spent reading on the veranda, we were off on a hike. Birgit, unfortunately, was unable to join because of the pending surgery. I do not claim to be a hiker. Thanks to significant glaciation in northwest Ohio some 22,000 years ago, there is not much hiking to be hiked. I do, however, heart nature and was ready to take this challenge head-on. We left Dr. Collins' and walked down a long grove of wonderfully fragrant, impressively tall eucalyptus trees.
Our destination was Rio Tio (Uncle's River). "Tio (Tia)," is a common form of address for others older than yourself, family or not. The, "Tio," in Rio Tio actually refers to Dr. Collins himself. He often hosts picnics for visiting missionaries and students along its waters and the homage of a name caught on with the locals! The first sight of the river was down an embankment near an old bridge from colonial times that washed out two years ago. Very European in architecture and very beautiful...
I, perhaps not surprisingly, had the esprit to attempt climbing this bridge. I failed.
We made our way upstream for some distance. Among the things seen were numerous pools in the river, locals using the water, locals enjoying the water, disheartening pollution, and the scenic vista or two (in the one pictured, I am actually perched on a ruined wall from colonial times).
The other relatively awesome part of the hike was a memorial site. To quickly refresh your African history, South Africa was originally settled by the Dutch (e.g. Johannesburg, the language Afrikaans). When the English came to say, "oh no you don't," the Dutch Boer farmers were forced out. Settling in present-day Angola, they were later persecuted by the Portuguese. Without conflict, they eventually died out in the late 1800's. The memorial and grave sites pictured below were a somber yet interest-piquing site to behold.
Our two-hour hike came to an end by taking a different route back to the bridge and eucalyptus grove. Just before arriving at the bridge, we cut through this gap in the flora. Not the most ex-linebacker-y moment right now but the aroma while cutting through the flowers and greens pictured below is something I really wanted to remember.
This time, with a little help, I was not to be rejected.
Just an all-around stellar way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I thought often of my stepmother, Sherry, who would have been wholly at home hoping rocks, exploring the water, and enjoying every little detail of the view. The air is quite thin here and my work of breathing was noticeably increased. It was not enough to hold me back though, considering what a stud athlete I am. The truth: I was chronically trying to keep pace with our host.
Dr. Steve Collins turns seventy-five in May.
I will smile when recalling this man and the life he leads.
--
Sunday night, I joined the returned Kubacki's for dinner. We then headed over to Mitcha for Sunday evening services. Group a cappella hymns and a discussion about Abraham/Isaac were followed by cinnamon cake and coffee. I was inspired to see the missionaries and their families come together and share. As with anything, their respective viewpoints are additive when openly discussed.
A full weekend! I retired that night recharged and ready for the week ahead.
In closing, my first five days seem to have taken two weeks to pass. I sense a lot of good in this feeling.
Birgit again picked me up early Sunday morning. This time she was accompanied by Kiera, a fourth-year Australian medical student, who is here for another two weeks. Our trio headed up the mountain to make rounds on the patients. We divided, conquered, and were able to finish laying eyes on everyone by a little after 11am.
Sunday was culturally informative but medically frustrating at the hospital. We did have one patient come in overnight who was quite sick. She complained of non-specific abdominal pain and her physical exam was concerning. On ultrasound, her belly was rife with a turbid fluid. We were hampered because the laboratory and operating room staff were both in town attending church services: it would be several hours before any studies or operations could be performed. With medicine on pause for the moment, we headed to the nearby village of Humpata.
Our afternoon plans were to have a picnic and hike with Dr. Steve Collins. Dr. Steve Collins is an amazing man. He was born in Angola, completed medical training in Canada, remained there for several years, and has returned to Angola full time, living in his quaint country home with a, "garden," larger than some farms. After several years of general practice, Dr. Collins took it upon himself to learn more about ophthalmology. He now lives and practices two weeks at a time: two weeks at CEML and two weeks as a one-man opthalmology service visiting severely needing villages in literally all corners of the country. A true sage of a man and an instant inspiration, he sees forty ocular consults and performs fifteen cataract surgeries in a typical day. His SUV resembles a rhinoceros thanks to a massive, front-mounted radio antenna. He radios from places without cellular coverage and, when not rocking the cassette deck, can jam to the likes of the BBC World Service and Voice of America. This dude is awesome.
After a nice lunch and time spent reading on the veranda, we were off on a hike. Birgit, unfortunately, was unable to join because of the pending surgery. I do not claim to be a hiker. Thanks to significant glaciation in northwest Ohio some 22,000 years ago, there is not much hiking to be hiked. I do, however, heart nature and was ready to take this challenge head-on. We left Dr. Collins' and walked down a long grove of wonderfully fragrant, impressively tall eucalyptus trees.
Our destination was Rio Tio (Uncle's River). "Tio (Tia)," is a common form of address for others older than yourself, family or not. The, "Tio," in Rio Tio actually refers to Dr. Collins himself. He often hosts picnics for visiting missionaries and students along its waters and the homage of a name caught on with the locals! The first sight of the river was down an embankment near an old bridge from colonial times that washed out two years ago. Very European in architecture and very beautiful...
I, perhaps not surprisingly, had the esprit to attempt climbing this bridge. I failed.
We made our way upstream for some distance. Among the things seen were numerous pools in the river, locals using the water, locals enjoying the water, disheartening pollution, and the scenic vista or two (in the one pictured, I am actually perched on a ruined wall from colonial times).
The other relatively awesome part of the hike was a memorial site. To quickly refresh your African history, South Africa was originally settled by the Dutch (e.g. Johannesburg, the language Afrikaans). When the English came to say, "oh no you don't," the Dutch Boer farmers were forced out. Settling in present-day Angola, they were later persecuted by the Portuguese. Without conflict, they eventually died out in the late 1800's. The memorial and grave sites pictured below were a somber yet interest-piquing site to behold.
Our two-hour hike came to an end by taking a different route back to the bridge and eucalyptus grove. Just before arriving at the bridge, we cut through this gap in the flora. Not the most ex-linebacker-y moment right now but the aroma while cutting through the flowers and greens pictured below is something I really wanted to remember.
This time, with a little help, I was not to be rejected.
Just an all-around stellar way to spend a Sunday afternoon. I thought often of my stepmother, Sherry, who would have been wholly at home hoping rocks, exploring the water, and enjoying every little detail of the view. The air is quite thin here and my work of breathing was noticeably increased. It was not enough to hold me back though, considering what a stud athlete I am. The truth: I was chronically trying to keep pace with our host.
Dr. Steve Collins turns seventy-five in May.
I will smile when recalling this man and the life he leads.
--
Sunday night, I joined the returned Kubacki's for dinner. We then headed over to Mitcha for Sunday evening services. Group a cappella hymns and a discussion about Abraham/Isaac were followed by cinnamon cake and coffee. I was inspired to see the missionaries and their families come together and share. As with anything, their respective viewpoints are additive when openly discussed.
A full weekend! I retired that night recharged and ready for the week ahead.
In closing, my first five days seem to have taken two weeks to pass. I sense a lot of good in this feeling.
yayyyy what a good read
ReplyDeleteSolid! Loos like you're having a wonderful time, after a slight WHOOPSADAISY with the airlines and your luggage. Can't wait to read more!
ReplyDeleteI can't believe how much has already happened! Keep the posts coming!
ReplyDeleteThat climb looks boss! But holy-canoli, Zach!! BE CAREFUL!!!
ReplyDeleteOtherwise, that's sweet that the residents there are so welcoming and ready to adventure with you!! :D
Also, haha great job on the climb - I knew you had it in ya ;)