If there’s nothing else, I’m going back to the compound. I feel kinda shitty. I’ll write orders for the guys in the emergency room.”
“See you back there.”
I stop in the nursing room and find an empty chart. I am not certain what drugs we have, or how best to order them. I grab a chart onthe desk. It looks like the system is to make a full circle, or half-circle, depending on the dose, and draw them on a line that marks the time of day when I want them given. I turn to the cupboards, find some antibiotics and some morphine, and hand the rest of the orders to one of the nurses whose name I don’t remember.
I leave down the hospital road, and the hot wind blows across the open field. I turn right at the corner, duck at the cannon, left at the tire, and I’m back to the gate. I knock. The door opens, and I step past the guard. I walk through the compound and past the kitchen. Tim is sitting in the gazebo, smoking, the sat phone in his lap. He sees me and stands up.
“How’s the hospital?” he asks. “Bev said someone pulled a knife?”
“I didn’t see that. I was in the emergency room forever. I’m going to lie down. I ate something bad, I think.”
“Right. See you later.”
I duck inside the tukul. It’s like an oven. I poke my head outside the door.
“Dude, are there any fans?”
“Nope. Not enough power.”
“’Kay.”
I lie down on the mattress. My hips dig into the metal frame. I look up at the mosquito net, orange because of the copper dust. Beyond it is the peaked grass roof, and between its narrow strands, small lizards rustle around, trying to shake out an insect. I turn on my side and wrap the pillow around my head. It smells like sweat.
22/02: made it.
the luggage restriction proved not to be a problem. i had a fleeting fear that my undeclared kilos might send us hurtling towards the ground in a thin metal airplane shell, gasless, just because i wanted to haul ulysses around the world for the fifth time. it didn’t. the book now sits proudly on the windowsill of my tukul, fully confident that it will leave it as it came, its spine strong and unbroken.
a dirty, dusty, rumbling landing later, and i was there. here. for those who don’t know exactly where abyei, sudan, is, i will draw a map. the X marks it.
no X where
right in the middle.
i will spend some more time later talking about my hut, its 3-x-3-meter blank cement walls and its straw roof, how it captures heat so well, and … actually, i don’t think i will spend any more time on it. that’s pretty much it.
i will talk more about the hospital, more about the team here, and how they seem the best kind of people.
and more about abyei, the town. its braying goddamn middle of the night donkeys and barking middle of the night damn dogs, its people, and its dustdustdust.
I AM SITTING IN THE GAZEBO , waiting for the morning meeting to begin, the one where we discuss the day’s activities. Tim is leaning on its low cement wall sipping from a coffee cup, his face to the morning sun. I can hear the soft voices of the people who live on the other side of our compound’s thin grass fence, murmurs I can’t understand. Shadows are long and the air is still.
The medical team from compound 2, our national staff, are due to arrive soon. Like in most MSF missions, national staff make up the vast majority of employees. Nurses, cleaners, cooks, drivers, guards. Of the forty or so people who work for MSF in Abyei, only five of us are expats.
Sandrine has gone to the hospital already to say her goodbyes. Her flight to Khartoum, and from there to Geneva, is due in a few hours. The plane will land just over … there. Just behind the hospital. Right where I landed, four days ago.
She and I spent yesterday afternoon together. As we walked the hospital grounds, she introduced me to the patients that were now mine. They were difficult to keep straight, scattered as they were, some inside wards, others lying on the
“See you back there.”
I stop in the nursing room and find an empty chart. I am not certain what drugs we have, or how best to order them. I grab a chart onthe desk. It looks like the system is to make a full circle, or half-circle, depending on the dose, and draw them on a line that marks the time of day when I want them given. I turn to the cupboards, find some antibiotics and some morphine, and hand the rest of the orders to one of the nurses whose name I don’t remember.
I leave down the hospital road, and the hot wind blows across the open field. I turn right at the corner, duck at the cannon, left at the tire, and I’m back to the gate. I knock. The door opens, and I step past the guard. I walk through the compound and past the kitchen. Tim is sitting in the gazebo, smoking, the sat phone in his lap. He sees me and stands up.
“How’s the hospital?” he asks. “Bev said someone pulled a knife?”
“I didn’t see that. I was in the emergency room forever. I’m going to lie down. I ate something bad, I think.”
“Right. See you later.”
I duck inside the tukul. It’s like an oven. I poke my head outside the door.
“Dude, are there any fans?”
“Nope. Not enough power.”
“’Kay.”
I lie down on the mattress. My hips dig into the metal frame. I look up at the mosquito net, orange because of the copper dust. Beyond it is the peaked grass roof, and between its narrow strands, small lizards rustle around, trying to shake out an insect. I turn on my side and wrap the pillow around my head. It smells like sweat.
22/02: made it.
the luggage restriction proved not to be a problem. i had a fleeting fear that my undeclared kilos might send us hurtling towards the ground in a thin metal airplane shell, gasless, just because i wanted to haul ulysses around the world for the fifth time. it didn’t. the book now sits proudly on the windowsill of my tukul, fully confident that it will leave it as it came, its spine strong and unbroken.
a dirty, dusty, rumbling landing later, and i was there. here. for those who don’t know exactly where abyei, sudan, is, i will draw a map. the X marks it.
no X where
right in the middle.
i will spend some more time later talking about my hut, its 3-x-3-meter blank cement walls and its straw roof, how it captures heat so well, and … actually, i don’t think i will spend any more time on it. that’s pretty much it.
i will talk more about the hospital, more about the team here, and how they seem the best kind of people.
and more about abyei, the town. its braying goddamn middle of the night donkeys and barking middle of the night damn dogs, its people, and its dustdustdust.
I AM SITTING IN THE GAZEBO , waiting for the morning meeting to begin, the one where we discuss the day’s activities. Tim is leaning on its low cement wall sipping from a coffee cup, his face to the morning sun. I can hear the soft voices of the people who live on the other side of our compound’s thin grass fence, murmurs I can’t understand. Shadows are long and the air is still.
The medical team from compound 2, our national staff, are due to arrive soon. Like in most MSF missions, national staff make up the vast majority of employees. Nurses, cleaners, cooks, drivers, guards. Of the forty or so people who work for MSF in Abyei, only five of us are expats.
Sandrine has gone to the hospital already to say her goodbyes. Her flight to Khartoum, and from there to Geneva, is due in a few hours. The plane will land just over … there. Just behind the hospital. Right where I landed, four days ago.
She and I spent yesterday afternoon together. As we walked the hospital grounds, she introduced me to the patients that were now mine. They were difficult to keep straight, scattered as they were, some inside wards, others lying on the
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