Patience and Patients

Swahili Word of the Week: Haraka Haraka Haina Baraka- Hurry, Hurry has no blessings

Weather: Mild, Breezy with the occasional shower.

Special Shout Out: Danny and Lynn- I am so excited!

Patience and Patients

As you grow older you begin to realize your traits and how hard they are to change. My thirties have been a time where I have learned to love myself for all my faults, pet peeves and idiosyncrasies. That being said, I know I am not a patient person. I turn into the evil lady who hates children when they kick my seat on the airplane. I will become mkali (fiery) at the taxi driver that does not take the jam free way home and don’t get me started in waiting in non-moving queues.

It is amazing that I have chosen to spend the following year in a country where every phrase seems to relate to the fact that going slowly or taking time is rewarded where haste and speed is considered reckless. I am looking at it as life test, at times it pushes me to the edge of sanity as I try to use logic to resolve issues. There is a different type of logic here but in its own way, it’s a beautiful and endearing quality of tanzanians. Their patience appears to be endless. I try and focus on this rather than the annoyed and impatient voice in my head that starts an inner dialogue on how this could be run so much more efficiently. Tanzanians appear not to get angry or frustrated. I have not seen road rage, middle fingers or swear words even though the traffic is some of the worst I have experienced (though they do like their horns). They wait in hot, disorganized lines without complaining and will chat away as my frustration builds and builds. I obviously have much to still learn.

This weekend I was lucky enough to get to ZIFF- Zanzibar International Film Festival. There were some great films, lots of live music and a great atmosphere. On Saturday afternoon I headed north to Kendwa in search of white sand and turquoise waters; I was not disappointed. We took up a Chai Maharage (translates literally to “tea and beans” because you sit on benches in the back of a pickup truck facing each other, similar to when you sit across from the ladies who sell you tea and beans for breakfast!) which when I asked the conductor how long it would take, was nicely surprised when he answered 50 minutes- 1 hour tops. Two hours later I kicked myself for believing him, when I asked my friend why the man had said an hour was told “it was to keep you warm” ie he gave me an answer I wanted to hear. The journey was only about 50km on a relatively good road. “Why?” you ask, did it take so long to go that far. Well quite simply in the fact that the driver stopped about every 100ft to pick up or drop off a passenger. This was infuriating to me. We would pick up a passenger and then get going only to stop within easy walking distance to drop off someone else (and of course each person getting on/off would have bananas, children, sewing machine, spare tire etc.). Meanwhile there were nicely placed blue signs in appropriate areas of the road saying “Bus Stop”; No one stood at those. After about 20km of stops and starts I had started to lose my cool and asked why people didn’t gather at the bus stops or at least in a couple central locations in each village. The reply I got was “This is Zanzibar”, I guess that is an answer I can’t really argue with.

After a fabulous weekend away, I returned to my new house newly furnished. On average my furniture arrived about 2 weeks late per piece. I would call everyday to see progress after the deadline for completion had passed. Each day I was told “Kesho Dada”- Tomorrow Sister, again it was so I stayed “warm”.

I am happy to say after a good 6 months I am now officially a TZ nurse and will be volunteering at the national hospital. I have missed my clinical practice and am so looking forward to working with patients, especially here. Patients here have a completely different outlook on medical care. It is a privilege, one that they will wait for hours and days to experience. The national hospital here has patients on the ground, outside on gurneys for hours and dead bodies often in the halls for hours til they are finally transported to the morgue by overworked and understaffed employees. When going in to get my ID card, I passed through a medical ward. I stepped over a patient who was breathing about 32 times a minute. For the non nurses out there, respiration rates are generally between 14-14 times a minutes. In the US this person would be sitting up, oxygen applied and most likely having breathing treatments. This lovely girl was instead of the floor, flat on her back looking very uncomfortable, but not complaining and waiting patiently until the nurse could attend to her. The nurse was frantically looking after another patient that was worse off than this one.

Work has been amazingly hectic, but with that it means we are moving forward nicely. How exciting! My place has spare room so if anyone needs a vacation, Karibu.