Nine days in the hospital Nksoing lay in his bed to receive treatment. We were able to visit him every couple days. We brought him coloring books, crossword puzzles, fruit and quality time. To my surprise his medical bill only came out to around $30, apparently the hospital receives most of its funding from the government. Nksoing’s mother also returned home. I am still not sure were she was, but she was grateful for our help as she herself would not have been able to cover the seemingly small amount of $30.
On Thursday, we drove to Nksoing’s school and picked him up to take him back to the hospital. I found out a few days earlier that Nksoing was supposed to be taken back to the hospital every other day to have his wound redressed. Unfortunately it had been a week since his last visit to the hospital because the person who was now taking responsibility for Nksoing had gotten sick and was in the hospital himself. I didn’t even know Nksoing was supposed to be going back to the hospital. Sometimes communication here, is, well, non-existent.
So after a week of Nksoing waiting, unsure if he would ever go back, we crammed him in the van with us and headed into town. At the hospital, we waiting in line to get his bandage wrap changed. When it was his turn the nurse reported that there were no more bandages and asked everyone to disperse.
What? No more bandages? Isn’t this a hospital? Everyone obeyed the nurse and left, but I wasn’t ready to leave without more information. I asked the nurse to explain. She said that the satiation machine that cleans the cloth-bandages was not working (they reuse bandages) and thus no bandages. She said maybe in a few hours they would have more.
So I have been in Swaziland for 60 days and in Africa for over 6 months now. In my time I have learned that things are not always what they seem, and that most of the time if you want something done, you had better do it yourself. Culturally Africans are use to things not working, but I am not quite African yet. I walked over to the ER and met with the head nurse and explained my situation. He said he had bandages but that someone had to come and get them. I explained that I had come from the other ward and was capable of bringing them. He looked intently into my eyes for a moment and then agreed.
So I walked back with a packet of bandage cloth in hand and surprised the nurse who was redressing wounds. She asked where I got it. I said the ER. She thought for a moment and then consented to redress Nksoing. Obviously I did feel a sense of pride for being able to help Nksoing but then my thoughts flashed to everyone else that was not treated. Should I have tired to help them too? There is always more to do here. But I am learning to be ok with not doing everything.
