Sickness

I was wrong. I should mention here that this entry may be slightly graphic regarding bodily functions, so if you’re squeamish or don’t want to know me that well, feel free to skip to the next entry. Getting sick sucks; getting sick when you’re not home sucks even worse. But being sick in a remote village in West Africa is awful. These were the longest 24 hours I’d spent in Ghana. During the night I had to get up four times to visit the outhouse. Number 2s resembled ink. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t vomit. The nausea and cramping and stomach pains continued through the night, and on throughout the day. I realized I had a fever. In the morning I tried to have a tiny bit of ground nut soup, but it came back up later. I felt a little better after I vomited, but it didn’t last long. I restlessly lay in bed for most of the day, sweating profusely between my trips to the outhouse. Every time, I was sure there was nothing left in my body, but 45 minutes later, I would be proven wrong. I felt like death, and according to Samantha, I looked like it too.

Details are fuzzy but I do remember Mama, Hans, and Emil standing in our room speaking in Ewe with concern, and deciding if I should go to the hospital, or medical assistant in the village. Hans and Emil were asking me questions about my bowels, and though I appreciated their concern, I detested having to provide so much embarrassing detail about my number 2s to them. I should mention that during the worst of it, the idea of a hospital with an IV to rehydrate my weak body did cross my mind. Though I wondered how I would get there. I didn’t know where it was. I imagined tracking down Samuel and his tro-tro, or perhaps they would fasten a cart behind a motorbike and put me on that. I dozed off I think as I remembered the numerous interviews I’d conducted, and how every one of them said there wasn’t enough qualified medical personnel in the case of emergencies and sickness… I wondered if the medical assistant they spoke of meant the hairdresser. Throughout the afternoon I drifted in and out of consciousness, though I remember thinking a lot about Cast Away, and how Tom Hanks was so upset when he lost Wilson to sea. And how can you remove a tooth just by hitting it with a rock? Wouldn’t it just break the tooth? I also thought about Free Willy, remembering a dream I had two nights prior that involved me, Sean, and Christina Zeender swimming in a pool at night with two orca whales. The orcas were significantly smaller than they are in real life, though in the dream they were still significantly larger than us. I wondered about the trainer who was killed a few months ago in Florida by an orca. So how did they film Free Willy? How could they be sure that whale wasn’t going to kill the little boy? Or did they use a mechanical whale?

Mama brought me some pills to take, and a rehydration packet to mix with water. The pills were chewable but tasted disgusting. One of them had aluminum hydroxolite and magnesium or something written on the side. The rehydration packet had the same ingredients as my rehydration tablets, but it also had something to act as glue… to help stop the “running” of the insides. Samantha took the liberty of filling 25 oz. of water in my water bottle and mixed the rehydration substance in. The resulting product was brownish-green, resembling brackish water. It was supposed to be orange flavored I’m assuming… but the taste was like warm salt water from the ocean, with a hint of orange… I could only sip two or three sips at a time before needing a break before my gag reflexes prompted an unnecessary vomiting episode.

Later, Mama and Sema brought plain rice for me to eat. I managed to eat a banana, and 4 small bites of rice. I knew my stomach wasn’t ready for anything yet. But Mama sat there and said I should finish half of the brackish substance before she would leave. Ugh. The strain of dealing with illness was hard enough, but to keep up my manners and be polite while trying to tell them to leave me alone was impossible. I sipped, steadily, forcing every swallow. While they stared at me, I suggested Samantha show them pictures from Cape Coast, in order to take the attention off of me. They admired the pictures as I stared at the rice in front of me, thinking only one word, “impossible.” Luckily, Mama asked if Believe had finished making the skirts, which gave us an opportunity to show Mama and Sema a couple “finished” garments and ask if the price was unfair. Mama and Sema criticized the work, pointing out details that should have been fixed or completed before giving it to us. They also agreed that the price for my two skirts and dress (35 cedi) and Sam’s skirt, dress, and two shirts (45 cedi) was a ridiculous amount. They said that 5 cedi per garment was more than fair, and that tomorrow we should send the items back to Believe and explain clearly that we will not pay that much. The idea of confrontation made me nervous, but I was happy to know they thought it was overly expensive too.

With Samantha’s adamant promise that she would make me eat more rice and make sure that I drank the brackish grossness, Mama and Sema took their leave and said they would return later. Sometime in the evening I vomited the rehydration substance and the little bit of rice and banana I did eat. At that point, I poured out the rest of the 14 oz. of brackish stuff on the ground. I hated to lie to Mama, but I literally couldn’t stomach the thought of drinking any more. When Mama and Sema did return later that night, I was half asleep. I heard mumbling, and Samantha promising to come get Mama if things got worse in the night. They had left a small 200ml bottle of chilled coke on the table for me. I drank a little when I woke up around midnight. I continued to toss and turn; I couldn’t get comfortable. The fever was still going strong, though I felt like it had lessened a little bit since the afternoon. I may have vomited again… I’m really not sure. But I did manage to sleep through most of the night, only getting up to pee, which I hoped meant the worst was over.