Instead of Sunday the powers that be decided that we should visit the Archbishop of Tabora today, Saturday. OK, so after breakfast we set out with Sister Claudia and our driver on the trek. Tabora is about 50 km. from our hamlet of Ndala. We traveled in a Toyota Landcruiser which is not the vehicle you see with its cushy independent 4 wheel suspension and shocks leveled to take the bumps out of driving on the moon. No, this is a pointy nosed double transaxle affair with leaf springs that make every crack in the road seem like a Mexican speed bump. The road, of course, was even worse than expected. These were not potholes, they were kettle holes that required navigating around them even if it meant going off the road.
Tabora is a fairly large place, similar in appearance to Sumbawanga with roughly the same population. Unlike Sumbawanga the Catholic Church is very visible. The archbishop is apparently the most important man in town. Once we arrived, Sister tracked him down by cell phone and we drove to an orphanage where we had a five minute meeting under a tree exchanging cordialities. The Archbishop is a pleasant enough man who looks like a Desmond Tutu wannabe. He was not disposed to discuss anything of substance which disappointed me because I was prepared to ask why the church had not yet provided the sisters with a pump to run their well even though they are short of water. So much for that meeting.
We toured the cathedral and the grounds which were impressive. After that we were ushered into a large dining hall where we were told that the Pope once took tea. When I asked which seat he used everyone laughed. There is a sense of humor there. During a wretchedly inedible lunch came the first highlight of my day. Father Joseph, a high ranking priest there got into a discussion with me about Tanzanian politics. I follow the political situation in the country as much as I can via the internet. Father Joseph filled me in on some details that I was lacking, the most important of which is the unrest brewing among the educated young people who cannot find appropriate employment. From this group, he feels, will come significant political change or, failing that, violent revolution. The country’s entrenched paternalistic political dynasty has gone on too long. I have to agree thereby letting go of my heretofore Pollyannaish view of a happy, cheerful if somewhat impoverished population. Change must come here and we can only hope that it is rational, orderly and peaceful.
The second highlight of the day I shall call The Great Mattress Massacre. At some time during our stay at Tabora Sister Claudia decided it would be a good time to buy some mattresses. We stopped at a mattress store (shack?) where she purchased six, count ‘em six, foam mattresses and had the storekeeper tie them to the roof of the truck. Twenty kilometers out of Tabora on the aforementioned road they got loose and were strung out along the dusty trail for about a quarter of a mile. (Sorry to mix measurements here but I’m trying to give this meaning.) All of us left the vehicle and commenced retrieving the mattresses while dodging constant vehicle and bicycle traffic. Can you imagine the sight of three rare white people, a nervous driver and a nun running all over retrieving mattresses?
At one point Grace and I sat down in the road and just started laughing hysterically. We finally re-lashed them to the top and returned very slowly to Ndala.
On the medical side: All patients are doing well. The little girl with the facial abscess is much better, the woman with the neck tumor went home, The lady with the ovarian tumor is doing nicely and the boy with the bowel perforation looks better and may make it after all. The old man with the hydrocele? I couldn’t find him today. I suspect he’s out buying new pants.
Tomorrow is Sunday and I’m planning a comprehensive photo shoot of this place in early morning light. Monday the adventure begins anew.
Hooray! Good news on the girl with the abcess and the boy with the bowel performation. I can't stand gore and blood but your blog inspires me every year to find someway to make a real difference in others' lives, in the non-medical ways I can.
Posted by: Tzipporah | July 11, 2011 at 10:26 AM
Downtown Ndala does look lovely, but I don't see a hotel that looks like the Phoenician anywhere in sight. It must be right around the bend and out of the frame. Skip, I love your writing AND I want more pictures. Now I see what Grace looks like. Good energy. Thank you for sharing your journey in such detail. I'm glued to it.
Glad your patients are surviving. That's a gift knowing the circumstances that you're working under.
Posted by: Barry | July 12, 2011 at 03:24 PM