fix my baby
when i was in nigeria, every day i would wake up, put on my brown skirt and my sweaty shirt from the day before and walk 100 feet to the clinic where i was observing, helping, but mostly just sitting. to pass the time i would talk to the nurse, write in my journal, and read the "where there are no doctors" book, the 1979 edition. yes, things in that book were really outdated. but anyway.
patients would slowly trickle in throughout the day and most of them complained about the same thing, "zawa." diarrhea. nurse faith would pull out the same yellow pills and wrap them in torn paper pages that she would fashion into a kind of envelope. then the patient would leave. it was fairly routine. but each person who came in had a different reaction to me, the whitey. and that was the fun part. sometimes i would try out some of my hausa on them, and they would laugh and laugh. sometimes i would just smile and give a concerned nod when i heard mention of "zawa." and sometimes i even got to help with the taking of temperatures and the passing out of yellow pills.
but one day was very different. nurse faith had to make a house call and she wanted me to stay in the clinic. it had been a VERY slow day so i didn't think twice about having all responsibility left to my care. about ten minutes after she left a fulani woman came into the clinic with her baby. the fulani were a strange bunch, beautiful, but strange. they were more blunt than the suvati people who lived in my village. they were nomads, traveling from place to place in their brightly coloured clothes and tattooed eyes. the woman who came in was carrying her baby, her very sick, very malnourished, half-dead baby. she thrust her child into my arms and started speaking to me, desperately, wildly flailing her arms. the assistant who was still in the clinic explained to me that the fulani woman believed that i could "fix" her baby. my white skin meant that i had powers greater than whatever spirits she prayed to at night. it was very scary. i couldn't do anything for her baby. the assistant tried to explain...
it's funny the things we put our faith in to "fix" things. like white skin can fix a dying child. or chocolate can fix a bad day. or a dad can fix a flat tire when he is two hours away from you just b/c he is a dad. or a friend or husband can fix a lonely heart. we put our faith in these things because it's easier than putting your faith in God that things will get better. God doesn't always give quick fixes.
being in school is so hard. i don't know how other people handle it, but sometimes i don't handle it very well. i dread studying at night and on the weekends. i loathe going to school and sitting in a class full of strangers. i hate coming home to my growing pile of clothes that i never have the time or the will to put away. i can't stand that i have a "to do" list that never gets done. i get sad when i realize that i have not done anything fun in over a month. and i feel lonely when i know that i don't have time for anyone or knowing that if i did have time i would more likely just want to sit at home b/c i'm so tired.
all of these thoughts swirl in my head and so i start to look for quick fixes. quick fixes are never good. let's just get that out in the open. and no, i am not doing drugs or hiding bottles of vodka in the tank of my toilet. but, i have put my faith in things that don't promise me a better future. they just promise me a fatter ass and arguments about something stupid. -sn
patients would slowly trickle in throughout the day and most of them complained about the same thing, "zawa." diarrhea. nurse faith would pull out the same yellow pills and wrap them in torn paper pages that she would fashion into a kind of envelope. then the patient would leave. it was fairly routine. but each person who came in had a different reaction to me, the whitey. and that was the fun part. sometimes i would try out some of my hausa on them, and they would laugh and laugh. sometimes i would just smile and give a concerned nod when i heard mention of "zawa." and sometimes i even got to help with the taking of temperatures and the passing out of yellow pills.
but one day was very different. nurse faith had to make a house call and she wanted me to stay in the clinic. it had been a VERY slow day so i didn't think twice about having all responsibility left to my care. about ten minutes after she left a fulani woman came into the clinic with her baby. the fulani were a strange bunch, beautiful, but strange. they were more blunt than the suvati people who lived in my village. they were nomads, traveling from place to place in their brightly coloured clothes and tattooed eyes. the woman who came in was carrying her baby, her very sick, very malnourished, half-dead baby. she thrust her child into my arms and started speaking to me, desperately, wildly flailing her arms. the assistant who was still in the clinic explained to me that the fulani woman believed that i could "fix" her baby. my white skin meant that i had powers greater than whatever spirits she prayed to at night. it was very scary. i couldn't do anything for her baby. the assistant tried to explain...
it's funny the things we put our faith in to "fix" things. like white skin can fix a dying child. or chocolate can fix a bad day. or a dad can fix a flat tire when he is two hours away from you just b/c he is a dad. or a friend or husband can fix a lonely heart. we put our faith in these things because it's easier than putting your faith in God that things will get better. God doesn't always give quick fixes.
being in school is so hard. i don't know how other people handle it, but sometimes i don't handle it very well. i dread studying at night and on the weekends. i loathe going to school and sitting in a class full of strangers. i hate coming home to my growing pile of clothes that i never have the time or the will to put away. i can't stand that i have a "to do" list that never gets done. i get sad when i realize that i have not done anything fun in over a month. and i feel lonely when i know that i don't have time for anyone or knowing that if i did have time i would more likely just want to sit at home b/c i'm so tired.
all of these thoughts swirl in my head and so i start to look for quick fixes. quick fixes are never good. let's just get that out in the open. and no, i am not doing drugs or hiding bottles of vodka in the tank of my toilet. but, i have put my faith in things that don't promise me a better future. they just promise me a fatter ass and arguments about something stupid. -sn
posted by SN at 2:09 PM
1 Comments:
Sometimes a good cup of coffee with a beloved sister (or two) can be a temporary fix. At the very least, it can put the ground under your feet again. Does late Sunday afternoon work for you?
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