The eye exam (or, how not to practice medicine)….

The TI compound is so large that one is required (by rental contract) to hire a full time person for grounds upkeep. Silverio, known as an honest humble person, was cutting a tree and a piece of wood flew into his eye, causing extreme pain and discomfort. I asked why he did not go to the doctor. He explained that the clinic is so full that he would sit all day and maybe never see the doctor, having to come back again until he was seen. I told him that there is an eye medication with cocaine, that will instantly relieve the pain, and can be used until the eye heals. Knowing this information was foreign to him, I gave him some Vicodin from medicine (it is legal in Kenya to provide this without a prescription-I bought Codeine over the counter for a hacking cough the week before) and set out to the pharmacy to purchase eye drops for him.

The formula was unknown to the pharmacist so I found an eye doctor in the area, spoke to the receptionist, who was sitting with her bare feet up on the chair, looking at her freshly painted toenails while talking to a friend. She said the doctor would be back in an hour and he would have the drug I was seeking. I met with Silverio and instructed him to accompany me and I would get him the medication. He got lost and arrived later, so I spoke with the doctor myself. He said he would like to look at the eye himself but as I did not know if Silverio would arrive, he handed me a used bottle of eye drops, from his desktop medicine corral and said it had the desired cocaine therein to relieve the excruciating pain. He offered it for half price, as it was used, and somewhat crusty on the top. He also sold me an antibiotic/steroid for healing.

Silverio then arrived and the doctor asked him to come in to look at his eye to insure there was no foreign substance lodged in it. Sitting the patient on the edge of a chair, he took a light and peered into the eye, instructing him to roll it around. He put some drops in and grabbed a roll of toilet paper from his desktop and swabbed the eye. As Silverio rolled his eye, the doctor thought he saw something and grabbed the plastic top off his BIC pen and was determined to scrape the substance away. He was mistaken and said “by examination of the eye, I have determined that there is nothing foreign in it”. Thankfully, that was the case and the plastic dirty probe was not needed. We were sent on our way after thanking him (for the free exam and the exorbitantly overpriced medication).

This is Africa….

Buy my daughter some sardines so she can remember you…..

A Muslim finished preaching to nine fishermen near the beach and was headed home. He stopped to introduce himself and dialoged with Scott and I about sending his nine-year old son American stamps. He asked us to follow him to his home which is a normal custom in Africa. We walked a half block and went into his small compound, which was complete with a large trash pile and miscellaneous junk. We entered his living room and he introduced us to his wife and one of his nine daughters and her baby. We excused ourselves back to the front yard as the heat and humidity, sans breeze, was smothering.

He said he had something for us (another custom) and disappeared into the home, returning with a Kikoy, a type of (skirt) wrap for men in this area. He tightly tied it into a plastic bag and handed it to me. I opened the bag and looked in. He said, “It is very old”, which translated into English meant, “It is well used and not worth me keeping”. He told me to use it as a wall hanging and added, “Please buy my daughter some sardines so she can remember you. I gave you something to remember me, now you can give her something to remember you”. I was unsure how to interpret that other than, “Hey, I have this piece of crap I dug out of the cleaning rag pile and want some sardines in exchange (about $3 worth)”, and he told me where I could buy them. I thanked him for the gesture (I think it was) and politely handed his gift back, excusing the trade with “I only had enough money for lunch (which was true). He looked at me with hope, stating, “Perhaps when you come back.” I waved goodbye and said…. "Perhaps”.