As any of you who have followed this blog for a while know, every once in a while I like to throw my professional demeanor away and engage in some humor. This usually comes in the form of a rant against a traumatic event I've recently experienced. These are always drawn from real occurences, just a bit exaggerated. This one may be the first to be completely true and unaltered. I'll start at the beginning...
Another 16 hours through the desert and along the wild Atlantic coast. This time it was on a bus from Dakhla to Guelmim, and when I think back to those long rides from Niamey to Zinder (here I start the comparisons between North and West Africa), I have to marvel at the decent amount of sleep I managed on this luxury overnighter. I also have to give credit where it's due to Nigerien women, as not once in all my horrific, hair-pulling, death-defying, vomit-inducing bush taxi rides did I ever have a woman get sick on me.
I wish I could say the same about my very first bus ride in Morocco.
Oh sure, it started innocently enough. My seat mate for the next 16 hours was a little, old Moroccan lady, a bit fat, with crinkles about her eyes, and a wart on her big, hooked nose. She actually looked not a bit unlike Yubaba, the witch from Miyazaki's Spirited Away. "Okay, good," I thought as she spread out her blanket for the journey ahead, "at least I'm not sitting next to a small child, wailing his head off for hours upon hours, like the one sitting right behind me, who won't stop kicking my chair... For the love of God, would you QUIT KICKING THE BACK OF MY CHAIR?!"
He stopped kicking the back of my chair...eventually, and slowly, I drifted off to sleep with the rocking of the bus and the barren, rocky desert flying by outside my window. In the morning, I awoke peacefully to the first rays of a soft, desert sunrise, the crash of Atlantic breakers, and the gentle retching of my venerable neighbor. A lovely way to start any day, and, even better, it continued for two hours, until we stopped for morning prayer and coffee. Though I don't pray and I wasn't much up for coffee, I jumped at the chance to extricate myself from my portly, puking companion.
What happened next can only be described as nightmarish. If you're at all squeamish, please turn away as we go into my mind, a pretty scary alternate reality in its own right.
Alright, back on the bus. Let's hope she's got everything out of her system. "Oh, Alhamdulilai, I don't want any bread, thank you." Wait. You're eating bread? You just spent the last two hours vomiting into a plastic jar. Most people choose not to eat if they're liable to get motionsick. You don't need to eat, you're just refueling! What's tha...is that yogurt? Tell me that isn't yogurt. Oh, come on! Haven't you ever thrown up dairy before? No, don't give her a spoon! Well...great. Smile away granny, I have a feeling we're both going to regret this...
(30 minutes later)
Yep, there you go again. Oh, that's disgusting. Yep, goes down yogurt, comes up cottage cheese doesn't it? You done now? Learned your lesson? Ohp, nope, there's an orange. Who gave you an orange? No worries, there's an apple as well. Can't have an orange without an apple chaser, can you? Mmm...vomiting a bit whilst eating eh? Didn't know that was possible. What is wrong with you?! STOP INGESTING FOOD!!!
(30 minutes later)
Is that ANOTHER yogurt container?! Okay, it's empty. I see. Need something else to yak into? Filled up your jar? Wait...the lid of that jar says it holds 425 grams. Oh Sweet Lord in Heaven. There's nearly half a kilo of old lady chunks precariously perched only two feet away. All it would take is one big pothole and it's all over. I think I'm going to chunder. But wait, into what would I toss cookies ? She's used every available container on the bus. Filled the yogurt cup... You need another?! Wait...that one's not open yet. NO! WHY ARE YOU EATING AGAIN?! Only 400km left...
At the end of this roller-coaster, I could conceive of only two possibilities for this woman's behavior: Either A) She really had taken quite a dislike to me and had set it her goal to make me hurl, or B) She just really loved the feeling of a good heave. Either way, I think I think I'd take the slow-moving iron ore train over the vomit express.
Showing posts with label sickness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sickness. Show all posts
Friday, May 7, 2010
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Celebrating a Quarter Century while Hiking Le Pays Dogon
No pictures this time around because I forgot my camera cord in my backpack. It's a shame, because as beautiful and interesting as the area around Banfora was, I think Dogon Country just blows it away. In fact, it probably eliminates the competition in all the rest of West Africa, but I can't make that claim until I visit the rest of West Africa. Dege dege as the Dogon say. That's moso moso to all you Zarma speakers or slowly slowly for everyone else.
To get to the Bandiagara Escarpment (where I hiked with Eli and Lauren for four days and nights), we had to start at 4:45 am to catch a bus from Ouagadougou to Ouahigouya. From there, we waited around a few hours for a bush taxi to Koro, and a few hours later, we grabbed another bush taxi for Bankass, our starting point for Dogon Country. Overall, it was a full day of traveling or waiting, but it was all worth it when we caught a view of the Bandiagara Escarpment while on the road to Bankass. Traveling through the Malian countryside, you're surrounded by plains, grasses, and trees of the Sahelian variety. In short, it looks exactly like Niger. Then, suddenly, your gaze moves to the west, and a 500m cliff face just seems to appear out of the middle of these vast, unbroken plains and stretch to the horizon. It's a 150km-long cliff that looks like someone just gashed the ground and pulled up solid rock.
The hiking is amazing. Let me say this now: I had giardia for the entire trip, and I still thought it was amazing. The trip. Not the giardia. I've had worse giardia, but anytime you think you're going to pass out while climbing onto the roof where you're sleeping in the pitch black...ya, not a great feeling. This echoes a friend who went to Dogon Country and realized he had malaria. Despite the horrible symptoms, they could not overpower the magic of Dogon Country. By the way, I don't mention it like I should, but we slept on the roof of the Dogon houses. An amazing view of every star in an ink-black sky, and mornings at sunrise? I don't think you can feel anything other than peace as you watch color slowly bleed into a brightening sky.
The Dogon are an amazing people. There's been a lot of research done on the Dogons in anthropological and archaeological sources, so I'll leave the heavy work to anyone really interested. The Dogon people came to the Escarpment around the 15th Century, where they met the Tellem people, who were already living there. The Tellem allowed them to settle but said the Dogon were not allowed to cut the trees or eat the fruit. The Tellem were a very small people, only about three or four feet, but they possessed powerful black magic which allowed them to fly. This explains the vaults, small houses in the rock which are completely inaccessible today but which the Tellem used to store their most prized possessions. An explanation more likely than flight (or very advanced climbing gear) is that this area was at one time much rainier, which allowed vines and other plants to climb the cliff face, allowing climbing access for some pretty scrappy people. Whatever the explanation is, it still takes a pretty brave little guy to climb up the 300m to where some of these vaults have been secured into the cliff face.
I'll skip ahead a little now. The Dogon eventually broke their word and began cutting the trees, so the Tellem left the Escarpment, never to return. The Dogon, holding tight to their animist beliefs in the face of repeated aggression from Islamic empires such as the Malian and Songhai, built their houses at the very base of the cliff, making them nigh-impregnable. Thus they maintained their distinct culture down to the present day. In the past fifty years or so, most of the Dogon have moved down to the plain, and many have taken up Islam or Catholicism. The only thing assaulting the Dogon these days are hordes of tourists, which has actually helped the Dogon in that they haven't suffered the loss of their younger generations to better opportunities in the big cities or elsewhere in Africa, America, or Europe. They no longer live at the base of the cliff, but all the old houses and granaries are still there, and their culture, strangly, has been somewhat preserved by the tourism industry. There's actually a reason for the Dogon to continue speaking their language, performing their ritual dances, and remembering their past, and that reason is because they've found a market among Westerners.
I could go on and on about the people we met, some of the breathtaking scenery we saw, and the even more breathtaking cliffs of which we peered over the edge. However, all of it is just words, and pictures paint a thousand words or more, so I'll try to post some in the near-ish future. I'll also try to post more about this amazing place, but honestly, I'm having such a hard time keeping up with the places I'm going that it's going to be very difficult to go back and rehash the places I've been.
For example, right now, I'm in Mopti, the Venice of West Africa. It's spread out over three islands at the confluence of the Niger and Bani rivers and is probably the biggest river port on the Niger. Everyone and everything on the river seems to move through Mopti, and as a result it's very hectic and colorful. However, hectic is not what I wanted for my birthday yesterday, so Eli, Lauren, and I chose a nice bar down by the water at sunset to while away the time and watch other people be hectic. After, we met up with our Dogon guide, Moumouni, for another beer, and I began to hatch some plans about possibly trying to get to the Festival in the Desert in a couple weeks. We'll see how that goes. Overall, it wasn't much activity by way of birthdays, but zipping through the streets at the end of the night on the back of a motorcycle, I could only think of how happy I was. I'd hiked out of Dogon Country in the morning, made it to Mopti by the early afternoon, and was drinking beers by the river in the Venice of West Africa by sunset. All with two great friends alongside me. Of course there are more people I wish could have been there, and they know who they are, but I couldn't ask for a better end to a great day.
To get to the Bandiagara Escarpment (where I hiked with Eli and Lauren for four days and nights), we had to start at 4:45 am to catch a bus from Ouagadougou to Ouahigouya. From there, we waited around a few hours for a bush taxi to Koro, and a few hours later, we grabbed another bush taxi for Bankass, our starting point for Dogon Country. Overall, it was a full day of traveling or waiting, but it was all worth it when we caught a view of the Bandiagara Escarpment while on the road to Bankass. Traveling through the Malian countryside, you're surrounded by plains, grasses, and trees of the Sahelian variety. In short, it looks exactly like Niger. Then, suddenly, your gaze moves to the west, and a 500m cliff face just seems to appear out of the middle of these vast, unbroken plains and stretch to the horizon. It's a 150km-long cliff that looks like someone just gashed the ground and pulled up solid rock.
The hiking is amazing. Let me say this now: I had giardia for the entire trip, and I still thought it was amazing. The trip. Not the giardia. I've had worse giardia, but anytime you think you're going to pass out while climbing onto the roof where you're sleeping in the pitch black...ya, not a great feeling. This echoes a friend who went to Dogon Country and realized he had malaria. Despite the horrible symptoms, they could not overpower the magic of Dogon Country. By the way, I don't mention it like I should, but we slept on the roof of the Dogon houses. An amazing view of every star in an ink-black sky, and mornings at sunrise? I don't think you can feel anything other than peace as you watch color slowly bleed into a brightening sky.
The Dogon are an amazing people. There's been a lot of research done on the Dogons in anthropological and archaeological sources, so I'll leave the heavy work to anyone really interested. The Dogon people came to the Escarpment around the 15th Century, where they met the Tellem people, who were already living there. The Tellem allowed them to settle but said the Dogon were not allowed to cut the trees or eat the fruit. The Tellem were a very small people, only about three or four feet, but they possessed powerful black magic which allowed them to fly. This explains the vaults, small houses in the rock which are completely inaccessible today but which the Tellem used to store their most prized possessions. An explanation more likely than flight (or very advanced climbing gear) is that this area was at one time much rainier, which allowed vines and other plants to climb the cliff face, allowing climbing access for some pretty scrappy people. Whatever the explanation is, it still takes a pretty brave little guy to climb up the 300m to where some of these vaults have been secured into the cliff face.
I'll skip ahead a little now. The Dogon eventually broke their word and began cutting the trees, so the Tellem left the Escarpment, never to return. The Dogon, holding tight to their animist beliefs in the face of repeated aggression from Islamic empires such as the Malian and Songhai, built their houses at the very base of the cliff, making them nigh-impregnable. Thus they maintained their distinct culture down to the present day. In the past fifty years or so, most of the Dogon have moved down to the plain, and many have taken up Islam or Catholicism. The only thing assaulting the Dogon these days are hordes of tourists, which has actually helped the Dogon in that they haven't suffered the loss of their younger generations to better opportunities in the big cities or elsewhere in Africa, America, or Europe. They no longer live at the base of the cliff, but all the old houses and granaries are still there, and their culture, strangly, has been somewhat preserved by the tourism industry. There's actually a reason for the Dogon to continue speaking their language, performing their ritual dances, and remembering their past, and that reason is because they've found a market among Westerners.
I could go on and on about the people we met, some of the breathtaking scenery we saw, and the even more breathtaking cliffs of which we peered over the edge. However, all of it is just words, and pictures paint a thousand words or more, so I'll try to post some in the near-ish future. I'll also try to post more about this amazing place, but honestly, I'm having such a hard time keeping up with the places I'm going that it's going to be very difficult to go back and rehash the places I've been.
For example, right now, I'm in Mopti, the Venice of West Africa. It's spread out over three islands at the confluence of the Niger and Bani rivers and is probably the biggest river port on the Niger. Everyone and everything on the river seems to move through Mopti, and as a result it's very hectic and colorful. However, hectic is not what I wanted for my birthday yesterday, so Eli, Lauren, and I chose a nice bar down by the water at sunset to while away the time and watch other people be hectic. After, we met up with our Dogon guide, Moumouni, for another beer, and I began to hatch some plans about possibly trying to get to the Festival in the Desert in a couple weeks. We'll see how that goes. Overall, it wasn't much activity by way of birthdays, but zipping through the streets at the end of the night on the back of a motorcycle, I could only think of how happy I was. I'd hiked out of Dogon Country in the morning, made it to Mopti by the early afternoon, and was drinking beers by the river in the Venice of West Africa by sunset. All with two great friends alongside me. Of course there are more people I wish could have been there, and they know who they are, but I couldn't ask for a better end to a great day.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Peace Corps Parties and Exile
I came into Niamey last week to plan the barbeque for the new stage. There were three of us working on a party for 120 some people, so needless to say, it was a bit stressful. It came off without too much of a hitch. A few people got sick probably because someone didn't bleach their vegetables. If I had to take a guess that's what it'd be. You can get away with eating unbleached veggies after you've had a half dozen stomach ailments, but it's generally a better idea just to take the extra time.
I also helped a bit with the Gender and Development auction and after-party. The after-party was ridiculous. There is nothing like a party in Peace Corps Niger. We are all so isolated and so deprived of "American" fun in village that we tend to let loose a bit when we're all together for big events like swear-in. It began to pour rain during the middle of the party, so what did we do? We danced in the rain. Why not? When the storm knocked the electricity out, we turned on headlamps and flashlights. A couple of people from team Tillaberi broke out their djambes (an African drum) and started playing. We had a real drum circle going once we added pots and pans from the kitchen. You'd be amazed the sound you can get from a spoon and a cheese grater. The electricity eventually came back on, but once you've got a good beat going, I don't think it's right to stop. So we just turned the lights off and kept going.
Friday the new stage swore-in. It's a bit strange no longer being the new kids. We're sophomores now. We've got some experience and we're starting up projects. We're the ones that they all think know so much, and I guess we do in some ways. We know the best places in Niamey, where to go for food, and generally what's going on.
This is a bit disconnected, but bear with me. Saturday was supposed to be my first full day of relaxation after the barbeque, GAD auction, and clean-up from both events. We were able to go to the Ambassador's house and use her pool. We played Ultimate Frisbee in her backyard and even had enough people for a tournament. I'm still sore four days later. The day was great, until my phone fell out of my pocket getting into a taxi. So I lost that. I also broke my glasses. If July was my sickness month, and August was my mental month, I worry to think that September might be the month where all my stuff breaks. I hope this doesn't sound too negative. I'm trying to take it all in stride. I'll be very Zen by the time this is all over. I'm trying to go back to post today, if Allah wills it. I feel a bit cursed right now, so I fully expect I'll return home to see the smouldering ruins of my house. I'll walk through the charred foundations while my maigari says, "Oh that was burning for four days, we just couldn't do anything about it. Kala suuru." I just hope my cat has survived.
So now I'm going on self-imposed exile until probably Halloween. I do not want to come back into Niamey for a while. I've just been out of my village so much recently that I feel like I'm losing touch. It's Ramadan, so it's a good time to just hang out at the mosque and joke around with my villagers. Unless I get hit with amoebas, bacteria, giardia, a bruised brain, or a whatever other things could go wrong, I shouldn't be in until the end of October. I hope all of you are well, please don't expect any mail/updates/etc. until then.
Kala han fo!
I also helped a bit with the Gender and Development auction and after-party. The after-party was ridiculous. There is nothing like a party in Peace Corps Niger. We are all so isolated and so deprived of "American" fun in village that we tend to let loose a bit when we're all together for big events like swear-in. It began to pour rain during the middle of the party, so what did we do? We danced in the rain. Why not? When the storm knocked the electricity out, we turned on headlamps and flashlights. A couple of people from team Tillaberi broke out their djambes (an African drum) and started playing. We had a real drum circle going once we added pots and pans from the kitchen. You'd be amazed the sound you can get from a spoon and a cheese grater. The electricity eventually came back on, but once you've got a good beat going, I don't think it's right to stop. So we just turned the lights off and kept going.
Friday the new stage swore-in. It's a bit strange no longer being the new kids. We're sophomores now. We've got some experience and we're starting up projects. We're the ones that they all think know so much, and I guess we do in some ways. We know the best places in Niamey, where to go for food, and generally what's going on.
This is a bit disconnected, but bear with me. Saturday was supposed to be my first full day of relaxation after the barbeque, GAD auction, and clean-up from both events. We were able to go to the Ambassador's house and use her pool. We played Ultimate Frisbee in her backyard and even had enough people for a tournament. I'm still sore four days later. The day was great, until my phone fell out of my pocket getting into a taxi. So I lost that. I also broke my glasses. If July was my sickness month, and August was my mental month, I worry to think that September might be the month where all my stuff breaks. I hope this doesn't sound too negative. I'm trying to take it all in stride. I'll be very Zen by the time this is all over. I'm trying to go back to post today, if Allah wills it. I feel a bit cursed right now, so I fully expect I'll return home to see the smouldering ruins of my house. I'll walk through the charred foundations while my maigari says, "Oh that was burning for four days, we just couldn't do anything about it. Kala suuru." I just hope my cat has survived.
So now I'm going on self-imposed exile until probably Halloween. I do not want to come back into Niamey for a while. I've just been out of my village so much recently that I feel like I'm losing touch. It's Ramadan, so it's a good time to just hang out at the mosque and joke around with my villagers. Unless I get hit with amoebas, bacteria, giardia, a bruised brain, or a whatever other things could go wrong, I shouldn't be in until the end of October. I hope all of you are well, please don't expect any mail/updates/etc. until then.
Kala han fo!
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Giardia Round Two...FIGHT!
So I came into Niamey Saturday night after the longest bush taxi ride I've had to endure yet. It usually takes three hours for me to get from my village to Niamey. This time it took five. We stopped in Baleyara like usual, where it took them two extra hours to change tires, load animal fodder, and generally dick around doing nothing. I was not in the mood for any of this, as I felt very sick and told that to everyone who attempted to talk to me. I got in to Niamey at 8:30 pm and made it to the infirmary, where I got the joy of sleeping in the air conditioning for two nights in a row!
It started like this. Monday afternoon I returned to village after visiting a friend who had been sick. I felt a little weak, but I figured it was because I'd biked 30k and it was a little hot. I rested, but still felt sore and weak from the heat, dehydration, and what turned out to be a combination of stomach issues and a virus.
The virus hit first. By Tuesday I had a minor temperature, so I stayed in bed most of the day. Wednesday rolled around, and my temperature had gone above 101 F. My entire body hurt, but electricity to the cell tower was out, so there was no way for me to call a medical officer. By Thursday, my temperature was down most of the day, and since my friend's virus had turned out to be self-resolving, I figured mine must be too. Friday was market day, and I felt fine. I did all my usual things and thought my sickness was over. I still wasn't eating much because I couldn't bring myself to eat after feeling so sick most of the week. I felt weak, but better than I'd felt in a number of days. That night, however, I couldn't sleep. I felt strange all over, like I could see everything clearly, like I understood the world. Of course I realize now that I was delusional and raving a bit, but at the time I thought I was the smartest man alive.
Saturday my maigari went out the fields to cultivate. I went too because I felt bad that he had done most of my work in the days I'd been sick, including some of my planting. I walked the 3-5 km out to the fields to look at them, helped the maigari a bit, and was feeling weak again. The sun was hot and I decided to walk back.
By the time I made it back to my hut, I felt like collapsing. I was tired, hot, and felt a bit nauseous. I went to sleep for about four hours, woke up, got sick several times, had a fever above 101, and nothing left to expel from my body. I called our Peace Corps Medical Officer, who told me to come into Niamey, that I had to, and had the worst bush taxi ride of my time here.
The final culprit? Giardia...again. Only this time it was combined with some virus and who knows what else. It took me about four days to fully recover. It's strange. The first time I had giardia, I barely noticed it. This time was the worst experience of my time in Niger. I think I came the closest to saying, "This is not worth it" this week. I didn't, and I'm still here, but I do not want to have a gastrointestinal issues for a while. Throwing up hawru is not the best experience...
*UPDATE* So I had to go BACK into Niamey again because I was still sick days after taking the medicine. The medical officer, in his lovely French accent, told me "that is not normal." Seriously. Turns out I had giardia, amoebas, and bacteria all in my gut, and I needed separate medicines for each of them. I'm going back out to post today, full of drugs and impressed that I've had the trifecta of stomach ills.
It started like this. Monday afternoon I returned to village after visiting a friend who had been sick. I felt a little weak, but I figured it was because I'd biked 30k and it was a little hot. I rested, but still felt sore and weak from the heat, dehydration, and what turned out to be a combination of stomach issues and a virus.
The virus hit first. By Tuesday I had a minor temperature, so I stayed in bed most of the day. Wednesday rolled around, and my temperature had gone above 101 F. My entire body hurt, but electricity to the cell tower was out, so there was no way for me to call a medical officer. By Thursday, my temperature was down most of the day, and since my friend's virus had turned out to be self-resolving, I figured mine must be too. Friday was market day, and I felt fine. I did all my usual things and thought my sickness was over. I still wasn't eating much because I couldn't bring myself to eat after feeling so sick most of the week. I felt weak, but better than I'd felt in a number of days. That night, however, I couldn't sleep. I felt strange all over, like I could see everything clearly, like I understood the world. Of course I realize now that I was delusional and raving a bit, but at the time I thought I was the smartest man alive.
Saturday my maigari went out the fields to cultivate. I went too because I felt bad that he had done most of my work in the days I'd been sick, including some of my planting. I walked the 3-5 km out to the fields to look at them, helped the maigari a bit, and was feeling weak again. The sun was hot and I decided to walk back.
By the time I made it back to my hut, I felt like collapsing. I was tired, hot, and felt a bit nauseous. I went to sleep for about four hours, woke up, got sick several times, had a fever above 101, and nothing left to expel from my body. I called our Peace Corps Medical Officer, who told me to come into Niamey, that I had to, and had the worst bush taxi ride of my time here.
The final culprit? Giardia...again. Only this time it was combined with some virus and who knows what else. It took me about four days to fully recover. It's strange. The first time I had giardia, I barely noticed it. This time was the worst experience of my time in Niger. I think I came the closest to saying, "This is not worth it" this week. I didn't, and I'm still here, but I do not want to have a gastrointestinal issues for a while. Throwing up hawru is not the best experience...
*UPDATE* So I had to go BACK into Niamey again because I was still sick days after taking the medicine. The medical officer, in his lovely French accent, told me "that is not normal." Seriously. Turns out I had giardia, amoebas, and bacteria all in my gut, and I needed separate medicines for each of them. I'm going back out to post today, full of drugs and impressed that I've had the trifecta of stomach ills.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Sickness
Hey everyone,
My installation at post has been delayed for two reasons. The first is that tomorrow is Mawlid, an important Muslim holiday and by association an important Nigerien holiday. The second is that the two of us being installed in the same region have each picked up some nasty intestinal problems recently. Yesterday we were supposed to meet with the regional officials in Tillaberi. It was a formality, introductions to people we will never see again. However, the other volunteer had a rough night Sunday and found out Monday that she had picked up amoebas and bacteria. I, on the other hand, discovered that I'd picked up giardia. What fun!
For those of you who didn't know, as I did not when I accepted this post, Niger is one of the three hardest Peace Corps posts. The other two are Mongolia (extreme cold) and Mauritania (extreme heat). Niger has both extreme heat, poverty, and an abundance of bad things in the GI tract. We were told early on that the incidence of diarrhea in this country is 334 cases per 100 volunteers per year. I've had two cases so far in the last 3 weeks.
The last time I had bacteria, which resulted in a fever, cramps, and I don't want to even describe the frequency or consistency of...yeah, best not to think about it. The treatment is three days of antibiotics. This time has been a little better. Giardia required only a single dose of pills, after which I slept for about 15 hours. Bacteria with amoebas is slightly worse, and by slightly I mean very very bad. It requires a 3-day dose of antibiotics for the bacteria, a 3-day dose of another drug for the amoebas, and a 7-day dose to clear the intestine of amoebic cysts, which can release more amoebas weeks or even months later. The drug combination is like dropping a thermonuclear warhead inside your small intestine and often feels worse than the original diarrhea.
Apologies for the disgusting post, but now you have a better idea of what I've been going through in Peace Corps Niger the past couple months. Sorry, but I have to run. The giardia is acting up again...
My installation at post has been delayed for two reasons. The first is that tomorrow is Mawlid, an important Muslim holiday and by association an important Nigerien holiday. The second is that the two of us being installed in the same region have each picked up some nasty intestinal problems recently. Yesterday we were supposed to meet with the regional officials in Tillaberi. It was a formality, introductions to people we will never see again. However, the other volunteer had a rough night Sunday and found out Monday that she had picked up amoebas and bacteria. I, on the other hand, discovered that I'd picked up giardia. What fun!
For those of you who didn't know, as I did not when I accepted this post, Niger is one of the three hardest Peace Corps posts. The other two are Mongolia (extreme cold) and Mauritania (extreme heat). Niger has both extreme heat, poverty, and an abundance of bad things in the GI tract. We were told early on that the incidence of diarrhea in this country is 334 cases per 100 volunteers per year. I've had two cases so far in the last 3 weeks.
The last time I had bacteria, which resulted in a fever, cramps, and I don't want to even describe the frequency or consistency of...yeah, best not to think about it. The treatment is three days of antibiotics. This time has been a little better. Giardia required only a single dose of pills, after which I slept for about 15 hours. Bacteria with amoebas is slightly worse, and by slightly I mean very very bad. It requires a 3-day dose of antibiotics for the bacteria, a 3-day dose of another drug for the amoebas, and a 7-day dose to clear the intestine of amoebic cysts, which can release more amoebas weeks or even months later. The drug combination is like dropping a thermonuclear warhead inside your small intestine and often feels worse than the original diarrhea.
Apologies for the disgusting post, but now you have a better idea of what I've been going through in Peace Corps Niger the past couple months. Sorry, but I have to run. The giardia is acting up again...
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