Nairobi Notes 2

Please note that VSO is in no way connected with or responsible for the content, comments and observations in this blog: these are solely my own in a personal capacity.


THURSDAY

Late rising, usual breakfast but this time in the company of a very large group of what seemed to be 40 or so American evangelical students or something of that ilk. Nobody should be that loud or cheerful at 0800 in the morning (and I am a morning person). Breakfast was sausages (3), beans (looked like baked beans but slightly spicy and with green bits, hopefully peppers), tomato with cheese on it, fried potatoes, toast (4 pieces), coffee and marmalade. Oh yes!

(Alfred: by now, readers of this and other blogs – and there are MUCH better Rwandan blogs than this one: try Marion at www.heathenblogging.blogspot.com or Bruce’s at www.bruceswanderings.blogspot.com or Tina at www.tinainrwanda.blogspot.com or Joe Walk at www.getjealous.com/Joewalk. Mind you Andy’s at www.andycrow.wordpress.com is ... well, let’s just say the enthusiasm seems to have run out, though the one or two entries he has aren’t bad. Anyway, as I was saying before this enormous tangent (Ruairí: tangents are infinite, mathematically speaking so how can a tangent be enormous?) Oh Jaysus, SO Ruairí. FOOD! VSO volunteers spend insane amounts of time talking about FOOD! Read Bruce’s blog if you don’t believe me, every meal since he arrived lovingly detailed. Ruairí’s too - what herbs and spices he has, seventeen ways to use a leftover cabbage once you have hacked off the black mould, the amazing taste of peanut butter and tea, etc etc etc.) It’s true. I remember when we had just arrived in Kigali and the volunteers who were helping with our training started drooling at the sight of the food which we had been – to be honest – a bit so-so about: now I know exactly what they were on about.

Then, after breakfast (remember breakfast?) I headed to Nakumatt! This is a department store/supermarket à la Tesco, sort of. We have a Nakumatt in Kigali but I wanted to see a Kenyan one. And it was ... a supermarket. Just like at home, to be honest. It did make me worry a bit about reacclimatizing as I found it a bit overwhelming – I mean. Three kinds of Litchee juice? – (Alfred: Ha ha – do Niamh and MT remember our quest for litchee-flavoured genever?) .

Anyway. Enough of that. Bought the surge protectors, groundnuts, chocolate for Déo, sticking plasters, forget what else to be honest. Then I had Szechuan Chicken in the food court and it tasted just like ... Szechuan chicken!! Such a disappointment! In Rwanda the fun is figuring out what they are going to do to the recipe you know, I was actually quite disappointed when it tasted exactly as I would have expected!! And the Tusker beer was definitely underwhelming – give me Primus or Mützig any time. Home to drop the stuff and then off to find an orthopaedic surgeon.

I can’t see my previous entry as I write this so I had better explain. I had the scan at 1700 yesterday so the results won’t be ready until 1700 today. I have no idea whether I will get any interpretation of the results so I want to find a surgeon who is either working late today or early tomorrow to look at the MRI thingies (Alfred: gotta love a guy who prides himself on his English and still uses the word ‘thingies’) and tell me what they mean. So I call into the Doctor’s Plaza – an enormous suite/complex/town of private doctor’s clinics. As I come in with my scuffed sneakers and stick and small backpack I feel SO scruffy!! I go up to the information desk where a very tall Kenyan guy in a blue uniform is slumped over the counter. I explain, slowly, that I am looking for an orthopaedic surgeon for advice about an MRI scan. He picks up a piece of paper and, in about thirty seconds, writes down the names and office numbers of six different surgeons, meanwhile giving me directions and information on which of them are likely to work late, have openings in their appointments books and so on. Wow!

Dr Odinga listens gravely to me, tells me that neither he nor any of his colleagues will be working late that night, expresses a certain amount of scepticism as to whether I am actually likely to get the results this evening but says he will be in at 0800 tomorrow if I want to see him. He also tells me, based on my account of the accident and symptoms, that he suspects all I need is some physiotherapy as my cruciate ligament is probably in need of some help to get back into working order – but he can’t be sure until he sees the scans.

And then off to the radiology clinic. I waited about an hour (I had got there an hour early it should be said) and then the receptionist appeared with my stuff but asked me to wait while she typed it up. Again, both she and the doctor/technician involved seemed to be staying late to accommodate me. Then she presented me with a giant envelope and off I went home.

On the way I had an unusual experience (Alfred: Well, unusual outside of Rwanda) – a guy asked me for money! This was the first time in either Kenya or Uganda anyone had asked me for money! And, seeing as I wasn’t in Rwanda, it was far more subtle and, to be blunt, pleasant. He was originally from Zimbabwe, had been a teacher there but lost his job and ended up here in Nairobi. He talked about the cost of food and accommodation but never actually asked me for anything straight out (Alfred: SUCKER!!!!) So I gave him what he said he needed for dinner, 100 Kenyan shillings which is the princely sum of £1. Sad in quite a number of different ways, both for him and me actually.

Once I got back to the hotel I couldn’t really face heading out again. I looked at all the MRI thingies which looked like those sonograms of embryos in which people claim they can recognise features but actually all look the same (mine being of knees remember). But the accompanying printout was quite detailed and made me decide not to bother going to see the surgeon the following morning (Alfred: And before Seosamh, Orla and any other surgeons out there have a fit let me remind you that a) he had not made an appointment b) Dr Odinga had said he was going to squeeze him in before his regular appointments c) he texted Dr Odinga to say he was not going to come and got a reply acknowledging this. OK? Everyone cool?) So, quiet dinner in the Gracehouse Hotel – quite nice Salade Niçoise - and then Kenyan TV (swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu, swine flu........) and a few 25cl Casillero del Diablo or whatever they are called. (Alfred: those were from the supermarket around the corner where he also bought rice vinegar, plum sauce, ground ginger, cumin, some mixed Indian pepper spice and other stuff like that. Yeah, like I said earlier – food fixation). And so to bed.