It was dark out and Joyce called frantic “Call Kim! Anna is really sick, she’s unconscious!” Anna is Joyce’s incredibly adorable 16 month old daughter. “Ok. Ok. I’ll call him!”, I said and hung up. Kim is our taxi driver and is the nicest guy you will ever meet. He always makes sure we are safe and doesn’t let us get out of the car alone at night. “Kim, it’s Ashley. Can you come to Mary’s house and pick me up? Then we need to pick up Joyce and her daughter- she’s sick. Unconscious. We need to go into Gilgil to the hospital”, I said. “Ok ok let me come”, he said. Thank God he wasn’t in Naivasha. I wanted to go with because a) I wanted to pay for the taxi and any hospital costs because I knew Joyce couldn’t afford it and b) I wanted to be an advocate for Anna and Joyce. Us muzungus seem to garner more respect…I wanted to make sure the best was done for Anna. “I called Kim”, I told Joyce. “I’m coming with you.” “Alright, thank you Ashley!” She was still frantic. “Is Anna doing any better?” I asked. “No, she is still unconscious!” “She’s STILL unconscious?!” I said shocked. “Ok, Kim should be here soon. I told him it was urgent.” “Ok, thank you.”
Almost 20 minutes passed by and he still wasn’t here. I called him again and as soon as Kim picked up he said “I am about to be there”. I could hear the urgency in his voice. Thank God. Soon I could see his headlights cutting through the blackness and I rushed to the gate to get in the car. Vumilia is a short but bumpy ride away and in the dark it is almost impossible to know where you’re going. We arrived there and you could not see a damn thing. In my head I think I was expecting porch lights or something, even though I had been to the camp every day for the past 4 weeks and I knew they didn’t have porches let alone porch lights. It’s like I forgot where I was for a second. Can’t a girl get some street lights or something?! But with no electricity we were forced to drive around illuminating each tent with the car’s headlights. “Are we getting close to the water tank?” Kim asked. That would me we were at the front of the camp. “I don’t know. I can’t see anything. Let me call Joyce.” I said. What I really wanted to do was roll down my window and scream “Joyce! Joyce!”, but instead I called her on her cell phone (don’t ask me how she keeps it charged without electricity). “Stay there! I can see you!” she yelled, a little less frantic this time. Finally we would see her running towards us with Anna wrapped in a blanket, her limp feet dangling. Joyce, her husband, and Anna piled in the back seat and off we went. “How is she doing? Any better?” I asked. Joyce said, “Yes, she woke up but now she is asleep.” I looked back, but could barely see anything. “Asleep or unconscious?” I asked. “Asleep.” Joyce said, relieved. Thank God.
I called my mom thinking that maybe she could offer some insight from half a world away. “Mom, I’m fine but I am in a taxi on my way to the hospital with Joyce, the teacher from school, her husband and her daughter, Anna. Anna is 1 year 4 months and started screaming at home and then went unconscious for about 10 minutes. She woke up but is now asleep. What do you think?”
“Hmm is she breathing? Put your hand over her mouth and see if you can feel her breath.” she said.
“Ok (reaching back). Yeah I can feel her breath.”
“Ok. Good. Is her heart beating? Can you feel her pulse?”
“Joyce, can you feel her heart beat?”
“Yes, it’s fast.”
“Yes, it’s fast.” I relayed the information to my mom.
“Ok, good. Kids’ hearts beat fast.”
Shit, mine was beating fast. “Ok we are on the way to the hospital.”
“In a taxi?”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s not like at home. Unfortunately. You can’t just call an ambulance. I don’t even think there is anything like 9-1-1. Plus, ambulances are expensive. If she couldn’t call me she would have had to walk to the road, in the dark, and try to catch a matatu. Just pray that one was passing by and would stop.”
I lost reception with my mom, and took the opportunity to get more information from Joyce. “What else happened?” I asked her. “She started screaming. She was already asleep so I went in to check on her and she started shaking. I tried to breast feed her but she bit my breast. Then she took my hand and was trying to bite it. I could tell she was in pain. Then she stopped shaking and went unconscious.” “Sounds like a seizure.” I thought. I called my mom back and told her the new information and then said, “You think she had a seizure?”
“Yeah, that’s what it sounds like. As long as her heart is beating and she is breathing just let her alone. She should be fine. Are you almost at the hospital?”
“Yeah. I hope they can treat her here. If not she has to go to Nakuru and that is 40 minutes away.”
“Well, I would think with a sick child as young as her they would treat her.”
“You would think. What kind of tests do you think she needs? A CAT scan?”
“Yeah, I would think so.”
“Ok. Hopefully they do that there.” I had already been at this hospital with the other teacher, Rose, and her three young kids, Felix, Jane, and Agnes. Felix (5 yrs. old) and Rose both had chicken pox, Jane (3ish) had thrush in her mouth, and, thankfully, little Agnes (2ish) was fine. It is a small, government hospital made up of small buildings connected by covered walk ways. All the waiting areas were open air- there was a roof over your head but no walls. When I was there with Rose it was cold and rainy, just what you want when waiting with sick kids. Although, since it is a government hospital, kids 5 and under are free. I have a feeling a lot of the kids that go there are 5. ;) Knowing all of this, I wasn’t that optimistic for Anna’s treatment (I would never send my kid there), but was really hoping she wouldn’t need to go to Nakuru. Besides being 40 minutes away, driving in Kenya at night isn’t exactly safe.
We get to the hospital and I hang up with my mom and we go in. There isn’t really an emergency room, just a treatment room, so we went in there. We go back and lay Anna down on the gurney and this is the first time I saw her in the light. Her eyes are open and she is looking around. My heart stops beating so fast, I’m relieved. The doctor comes over and, without examining her, says smiling “This isn’t an emergency!” I just looked at him. I wanted to say, “What IS an emergency?! How do you know? You haven’t even assessed her yet!” But, I just said “even though she had a seizure at home and was unconscious she doesn’t need any tests?” He just looked at me as if he was thinking “Who ARE you anyway?” He simply sighed and said, “we are going to examine her”. The examination consisted of taking her temperature. That’s it. As the thermometer was under her arm the doctor snickered to the nurse, “See her temp is normal. This wasn’t an emergency.” After the normal temp he proclaimed “I think what we have here is a case of carbon monoxide poisoning. Are you IDP?”
“Yes” Joyce replied.
“Do you cook with charcoal inside your house?” he asked. (Everyone does here)
“Yes.”
I wanted to say “She just told you she is IDP which means she live in a tent with no electricity. Where do you think she cooks, out on the deck? Retard.”
“Well charcoal creates carbon monoxide which can kill very, very easily. You shouldn’t do that anymore. You are very lucky.”
Joyce just calmly said “Oh, ok, I didn’t know that.”
“Ok, there is no medicine required. She will be fine. The ride over here gave her oxygen and fresh air now she is fine. I thought it was going to be an emergency. This wasn’t an emergency. This (pointing to some hunched over woman) was an emergency.”
I wanted to say “Ok, douche, next time her 16 month old has a seizure and is unconscious for 10 minutes I’ll just tell her to stay home. How the hell was she supposed to know it was something as simple as carbon monoxide poisoning? And, you yourself said it can kill very easily. I would classify that as an emergency, jackass.” But, we just thanked him and left. Kim was waiting for us, and he took us home. Anna was soon back to her old self and was smiling in the car. I saw her this morning at school and she was playing around and enjoying herself.
Anna holds a special place in my heart. At first, she was afraid of me because I am a mzungu and would not go to me. So, I had to slowly build up her trust and our relationship. I am not used to that. Normally, babies come to me with no problem. I love babies. I could hold them and play with them for hours. Now I can hold her and we joke around. She is so adorable! Maybe she is so special to me because I had to work so hard to get close to her. She was worth it, and I am glad she is ok.
Kim told Joyce that if she waits until the charcoal turns red and is no longer smoking then she can take it in the house with no problem. So, that is what Joyce is going to do. Hopefully there will be no more problems. On the way home Joyce said, “Oh, thank you, Ashley you are a true friend. I don’t know what I would have done. I thought I was watching Anna die. Thank you.” “Oh, Joyce, it was no problem. You can call me anytime. Well, for the next week anyway. And after that you can still call me.”
This whole experience made me thankful for so many things we Americans (and other members of the first world) take for granted. We know that if something happens we can pick up the phone and dial 9-1-1 and someone will answer and stay with us until help arrives. We know that if someone we love is sick or hurt they can go to a hospital and get treated properly. We don’t have to cook with charcoal indoors that is reserved to barbeques. The list could go on and on. I am so thankful that everyone else in the house was awake and her Anna cry. I don’t want to even think about what would have happened if they weren’t.
Peace&Love,
Ashley
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