In all my excitement about all the new sights and sounds, I completely forgot to inform my reader about the more mundane aspects of life here. While the work at the hospital is far from predictable, I do have somewhat of a schedule that I can rely on.
Each weekday I wake up at 6:45 to the sound of Clementine, my house help, banging around in my apartment kitchen fixing breakfast and getting ready for her day. My humble abode consists of a bathroom connected to my simple bedroom, a living room with a bed in case I ever have another male volunteer arrive in Shyira, and a kitchen consisting of a sink, gas stove, oven, and a shelf. I eat my breakfast of bananas, pineapples, and another bitter fruit called tree tomato along with some tea, the occasional fried egg, and bread. By 7:25 I bring my dishes into the kitchen, chug my tea, bush my teeth, and briskly walk the 5-minute commute to the hospital.
Every doctor is required to be at the Morning Prayer service starting at 7:30. Spoken in the local tongue of Kinyurwandan, a Bible passage is read out loud by the minister, which is followed by instructions as to how we can incorporate this lesson into our lives. The speaker is usually half yelling and this intimidating lecture is accompanied by an aggressive facial expression demanding the listeners’ full attention. A briefing in French follows the 30-minute bible study summarizing the events that took place while the various doctors were on call the previous night. There are a total of 100 beds in the whole hospital, so each of these updates can be just the same as the day before, or a new case inspires a comprehensive discussion between the doctors and nurses.
There are a total of 6 doctors here at Shyira. Doctor Caleb and Louise King are American and Harvard trained, specializing in pediatric gastroenterology and internal medicine respectively. Dr. Caleb King is the director of the hospital; he and his family have been here in Shyira for almost 5 years now. Matthias Kohls is a German OB/GYN who came a little over a year ago with his wife, an English teacher at the high school, and 3 little girls. Dr. Jean Luke, Dr. Dona, and Dr. Theonest are Congolese doctors each having been at Shyira for a varied amount of time, all trained in general medicine. I have alternated weeks assisting Matthias and Louise so far, but I hope to get a chance to work with Caleb when he finds time, and follow the other doctors as my French gets a little better.
I begin making the rounds about 8 a.m., which involves going bed to bed asking the patients how they feel, with the assistance of a translator. Although I always accompany one of the doctors, I do get to listen to the patient’s breathing and heart with my trusty stethoscope. Some people get right to the point and address their needs in a very matter of fact manner. Others come up with new symptoms everyday that elude the staff in how to diagnose the problem. In the maternity, a sick new mother or wailing young girl in labor demands our full attention. An elderly man with night sweats and weight loss or a young lady complaining of lack of energy and a cough gives us the impression that we have a new tuberculosis case on our hands in the internal medicine ward.
Around 12 noon I head to the little house inhabited by the only other current young foreigner here in Shyira, a 20-year-old German girl named Steffi. Steffi is working at the local kindergarten and tutoring the 2 oldest Kolhs girls. I eat lunch everyday with Steffi and her house help, also named Clementine, who is an outstanding cook and provides our meals every day. Lunch always includes red beans and rice, a potato dish, cheese covered cabbage, and carrots. Although this meal is generally very predictable, it is one of the daily events I look forward to most. The 30 minute long lunch is followed by a relaxing coffee break accompanied by reading time in the armchairs of Steffi’s house. I usually peruse one of the few U.S. News & World Reports or numerous girly magazines left by the previous inhabitants of the house. By the way, this winter’s Dolce & Gabbana line is hideous.
The first thing on my agenda during the afternoon is tutoring the second oldest King child in Latin. Sum, es, est, summus, estis, sunt. Ask her and I guarantee she can rattle those off for you. After our 45-minute lesson, I head back to my apartment to teach a local guy that is my age how to type. I usually use one of the few books I brought and have him copy it word for word. I recently got a hold of a typing program and he was over 15 words per minute last time I checked. The late afternoon is when I am left to read, have my twice-weekly 90-minute French lesson, or study my MCAT material. It is a time where I can usually sit outdoors, as long as our daily rain has already passed, and enjoy the warm air with a cup of tea. On Wednesdays and Fridays, all of the non-Rwandan people, 13 of us in total, and a couple Rwandan orphans eat together at either the King or Kohls household. It is nice chance to socialize and eat together a couple times a week, as well as give us a chance to talk about things other then the hospital, its patients, and its problems. On nights where we do not have a group dinner, I usually make a simple meal with the bread, rice, and cheese I have on my shelf.
My apartment, the King’s house, the Kohls’ house, Steffi’s house, one other doctor’s house, and the hospital are the only places in all of Shyira that have electricity. The generator goes on around 6 p.m. and is surely off before 9 p.m. The sun is down around 6:30, and unless someone is getting judgment for his or her involvement in the genocides by the community, almost everyone is in their houses getting ready for bed. The satellite is on while the generator is on, and I would say it’s a toss up between using the Internet and lunch as to what I love most outside the hospital. I usually get in bed by around 9 or 10, because I have a full day ahead of me.