Sitting in a hammock surrounded by westerners with a tummy full of pizza it's hard to believe that just yesterday we left our world of fried two minute noodles and donuts behind. Our month on Tello was a great adventure, one which I am sure I will wax lyrical about in times to come, but it was also a tough one. Growing up with my pony, jazz dancing lessons (believe it or not!) and five plus a day wasn't the ideal foundation for survival in one of the remotest corners of the earth but Hamish and I are still speaking and aside from the few extra kilos we have picked up I should think we will come through unscathed.
Our time was split between the clinic on Tello and nearby islands where, with a sack of medicines over one shoulder, we would set up in a villagers front room and do the best we could with what we had. Most of the people we saw in these villages had never seen a doctor in their life (except for Dr Derek who has tried to make a yearly visit there since 2006) and in no time the room would be packed to the rafters. Like in Zambia patient confidentiality does not exist!
In the evenings, after burning our rice on the fire, we would bed down on the wooden floor, while the whole village sat around watching us, and pretend to be hardy. Come morning, with sore bodies and very little sleep had I would make an effort not to speak to Hamish for half an hour incase I should say something I might later regret. Patients came streaming through the clinic with all the standard ailments but here we actually saw a number of seriously unwell people also. Sadly there were many seriously ill patients that we couldn't help because the facilities were not available in Indo, had they been born in NZ or the UK their story would be completely different which was just so unfair. Again, many whom could have benefited from an injection seemed religiously opposed to the prick, while others who were not seriously unwell at all were desperate for a jab. One man wanted an injection to make him 'big and strong', another man came because his stomach hurt when he was hungry, while our last patient came because his eyes hurt when he looked at the sun. Sometimes I just didn't know if I should laugh or cry.
The washing rooms on the islands served a triple purpose as a bathroom, laundry and kitchen sink. While being economical on space it was rather awkward seeing the lunch time dishes drying on the floor less than a meter away from where you were squatting for a wee. For some reason the concept of a sunken loo hasn't caught on there so you simply do your business on the floor and then wash it outside through a hole in the wall where the pigs and chickens await. If this wasn't enough to put me off going to the toilet, or eating of the dishes (!) night time trips to the loo included visits from cockroaches and giant hermit crabs. Interestingly we didn't see a single person with diarrhoea (why is that word so tricky to spell?) and vomiting during our stay which seemed miraculous given the circumstances.
As the only foreigners on Tello everyone knew where we were during every waking, and sleeping, hour so there was no escaping the 24 hour on call. Our second night time home visit was to a sweet old man with suspected prostate cancer that Hamish had been dealing with in clinic. We arrived at the house to find the usual haggle of on lookers around as well as the christian missionaries strumming a guitar and singing along to a sad tune. The mans body lay motionless on the bed with a bible tucked above his head. My first reaction was 'shit he is dead, I am going to have to pull myself together for this one'. Hamish went in to check for a pulse and our man rose from the dead, thrilled that I wasn't going to have to witness my second death in so many weeks the bizarre situation became amusing. After a check up from Dr Hamish and some new medication we left the wee man sitting up in bed quite roused that he wasn't going to die that night, meanwhile the gathered crowd started to disperse appearing slightly disappointed by the lack of drama.
Our aid worker hats are now stowed in the bottom of our bags and the selfish adventuring/ a normal holiday truly starts. We have ten days in Sumatra chasing Orangutans in the jungle and floating around volcanic lake Danau Toba, before heading to Bali, Lombook and the Gili Islands for a few weeks - what a culture shock that will be after Tello! Cocktail's, beach massages, sun tanning here I come. Hamish can't wait.
Our time was split between the clinic on Tello and nearby islands where, with a sack of medicines over one shoulder, we would set up in a villagers front room and do the best we could with what we had. Most of the people we saw in these villages had never seen a doctor in their life (except for Dr Derek who has tried to make a yearly visit there since 2006) and in no time the room would be packed to the rafters. Like in Zambia patient confidentiality does not exist!
In the evenings, after burning our rice on the fire, we would bed down on the wooden floor, while the whole village sat around watching us, and pretend to be hardy. Come morning, with sore bodies and very little sleep had I would make an effort not to speak to Hamish for half an hour incase I should say something I might later regret. Patients came streaming through the clinic with all the standard ailments but here we actually saw a number of seriously unwell people also. Sadly there were many seriously ill patients that we couldn't help because the facilities were not available in Indo, had they been born in NZ or the UK their story would be completely different which was just so unfair. Again, many whom could have benefited from an injection seemed religiously opposed to the prick, while others who were not seriously unwell at all were desperate for a jab. One man wanted an injection to make him 'big and strong', another man came because his stomach hurt when he was hungry, while our last patient came because his eyes hurt when he looked at the sun. Sometimes I just didn't know if I should laugh or cry.
The washing rooms on the islands served a triple purpose as a bathroom, laundry and kitchen sink. While being economical on space it was rather awkward seeing the lunch time dishes drying on the floor less than a meter away from where you were squatting for a wee. For some reason the concept of a sunken loo hasn't caught on there so you simply do your business on the floor and then wash it outside through a hole in the wall where the pigs and chickens await. If this wasn't enough to put me off going to the toilet, or eating of the dishes (!) night time trips to the loo included visits from cockroaches and giant hermit crabs. Interestingly we didn't see a single person with diarrhoea (why is that word so tricky to spell?) and vomiting during our stay which seemed miraculous given the circumstances.
As the only foreigners on Tello everyone knew where we were during every waking, and sleeping, hour so there was no escaping the 24 hour on call. Our second night time home visit was to a sweet old man with suspected prostate cancer that Hamish had been dealing with in clinic. We arrived at the house to find the usual haggle of on lookers around as well as the christian missionaries strumming a guitar and singing along to a sad tune. The mans body lay motionless on the bed with a bible tucked above his head. My first reaction was 'shit he is dead, I am going to have to pull myself together for this one'. Hamish went in to check for a pulse and our man rose from the dead, thrilled that I wasn't going to have to witness my second death in so many weeks the bizarre situation became amusing. After a check up from Dr Hamish and some new medication we left the wee man sitting up in bed quite roused that he wasn't going to die that night, meanwhile the gathered crowd started to disperse appearing slightly disappointed by the lack of drama.
Our aid worker hats are now stowed in the bottom of our bags and the selfish adventuring/ a normal holiday truly starts. We have ten days in Sumatra chasing Orangutans in the jungle and floating around volcanic lake Danau Toba, before heading to Bali, Lombook and the Gili Islands for a few weeks - what a culture shock that will be after Tello! Cocktail's, beach massages, sun tanning here I come. Hamish can't wait.
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