The $75 foot

I have to question my continued decision to travel overseas, as I appear to have bad luck hovering around me no matter what corner of the globe I’m on. Basically, I’ve been in Rwanda for five days. It’s glorious weather, unbelievably beautiful hills, helpful and humorous people, sunshine…loveliness all around, really. Kigali is very un-African in many ways. It’s the most organized, law-abiding, regimented African country I have ever been to. There are smooth roads, speed bumps, cross walks, matching outfits, lunch buffets, helmets for the motorcycle taxis. There is no garbage littering the streets. There is no street food; there are no mangy dogs wandering the streets in search of food. There is no need to bargain for taxi prices. The city is covered with social media campaigns discouraging sugar mamas and sugar daddies (my favorite billboards by far). It is beautiful here.

It’s been fantastic being able to communicate again after my three months in Ethiopia, never mastering more than ten Amharic words. Interestingly, Rwanda is shifting from French-speaking to English speaking, so it never fails that if I address someone in French, they speak English and vice versa. I’m hoping to get a grasp on Kinyarwanda while I’m here, but so far, I have failed miserably at directing the moto taxis to the Tulane office.

Everyone at the office is wonderful—incredibly kind, dedicated, friendly people determined to make some positive change in a progressive country. I’ll be working mainly on the malaria projects here, as well as dabbling a bit in the Social Work training program that is being developed a few hours south at a local university. The other interns are great. I’ve managed to hook up with some Return Peace Corps volunteers from Togo also doing graduate school work, so it’s always nice to have that community. Through my friend Joan, I have landed a gorgeous house to rent for the summer (through a friend of a friend of a friend through Peace Corps), with a veranda overlooking the entire city from above. Looking forward to moving out of the guest house and making some space for myself that feels a bit more permanent.

I wish I could say more about my work week, but alas, it has been consumed by the $75 foot. Now, as a brief reminder, I arrived in Kigali Saturday evening. I wake up Sunday to find a very small red dot on the ball of my foot, which I assume is a spider bite or something of the sort that attacked me during the night. Well, by Tuesday, I am barely able to walk and am wondering why my foot has its own heartbeat. Hmmm. I get to the office and Josh (my supervisor) suggests I go to the clinic. It costs $27 just to get a consultation with a doctor. Rwanda is expensive, folks. Like $4 cup of coffee expensive. I don’t get it. It just don’t seem right y’all! The French comes in handy as I argue with two doctors—one who believes I have an abscess and the other who thinks I just have an infection and need antibiotics. I leave with a prescription and a phone call from my boss, Laura. Lucky me—Tulane’s infectious disease specialist is in Kigali teaching a two-week course. I head to her hotel. She takes one look and says, “Yeah, it’s an abscess.” She proceeds to boil a sewing needle in her hotel room and puncture this massive growth on the bottom of my foot. Not pleasant. Not pleasant at all. If only I knew the half of it. She advises me on some better antibiotics and I’m off.

So, two days later and Gimpy Gertrude has not slept a wink and can barely walk. While a self-admitted hypochondriac, I like to pretend I have a pretty high pain tolerance. As I have mentioned to a few friends and family already, if I had a worst enemy, I would wish they got an abscess on the ball of their foot. It’s unbearably painful. So, I call Dr. McLellan today and she is not thrilled with my progress. I make plans to meet up with her and show her the infamous foot. “Damn. Damn. Damn.” Comforting Dr. Susan. Very comforting. She is worried I have a raging infection that has possibly spread to my bone, assures me I’m on the wrong antibiotics, and rapidly rearranges her day’s schedule to accompany me to the hospital. Awesome Thursday. A minor procedure and some cultures are needed. Fantastic. Luckily, we bargained for some localized antiseptic to numb my foot before the scalpel went to work. Not the best 15 minutes of my life. I am proud to say that I didn’t cry, but was basically pounding my fists on the table and biting my arm in agony before begging Dr. Rwanda to take a break so I could catch my breath. Not super fun…not fun at all…and another 50 bucks. Wuh wa.

So, I am now back at the hotel, drinking a very large beer and ordered by the Tulane staff to stay home tomorrow and rest, as I am intended to head south on Monday morning for a Social Work training for the week. Pictures are on their way. I haven’t had much opportunity to explore and photograph due to the crazy foot, unless of course, you are all interested in the progression of the dreaded abscess, which I doubt you are.

Alas, I am convinced I’m on the up and up…and hoping to experience Kigali without hobbling around like a first class dork. Lots and lots of love to all…and more from Butare next week. =)