Yesterday, as I walked down the dirt excuse for a sidewalk in "downtown" Chimoio, I passed a man with 12 dead guinea hens on strings hung from every available place on his body. There were 4 draped around his neck, 2 over each shoulder, and 2 in each hand. You had to look hard to see that there was actually a man under all those gray spotted feathers and wobbly necks. The best part was that this guinea hen vendor was casually engaged in a conversation with another man, nodding his head and carrying about as if that were the most normal thing in the world. And I'm sure, for him, it was.
Ricardo is doing better after 2 straight days of a high fever, night shakes, and intestinal difficulties. We still don't know for sure if it was malaria, but the doses of Malarone seem to have made a difference so I have my suspicions. The important thing is that he is relatively healthy again and I can stop waking up every 4 hours to dispense assorted medicines and take his temperature...
This experience made me realize how much I took health and easy access to medical services totally for granted back in the US. After having to walk a mile to a doctor, self-treat my boyfriend's malaria, and mix homemade rehydration fluids - all the while knowing that if something serious went wrong we probably wouldn't be able to reach a decent clinic in less than 4 hours - I am now much more aware of the blessing that is good health...
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