Apiaries and Bee-attacks

You know those killer heels that you love but they absolutely tear your feet up? If you wear them infrequently enough, you will surely put them on again with that it-really-wasnt-that-painful-last-time mindset........and as soon as you are far enough away from your closet to turn back......you are suddenly-and painfully-aware of why you swore to never wear them again.

Well, so it went with my experience with the infamous Afrian killer bees. I have been away long enough to forget your merciless ferocity.......but you did not let me forget for long.

(Notice the ignorant bliss of confidence before disaster strikes.......)

I went out with my dear friend, Thomas, to check on his bees, and possibly try to harvest. He insisted we do it at night, as it was just too dangerous to do it in the daytime (you might think that would have raised my level of alarm, but alas-it did not). We got out to his apiary at dusk. After getting the smoker lit, we wrestled into our full body bee suits, which always make me feel like an astronaut, and usually elicit my imitation of slow-motion moon running :) The bee suits were generously donated my Bailey's Bee Supply in Hillsborough, NC. The owner, David Bailey, has been a great source of helpful advice, both for my sweet American bees, and the fiesty demon bees of this land. David-if you are reading this, I cannot fully express my gratitude for having such a well-made suit between my skin and those little beasts.

We inspected the apiary-Thomas has 10 hives that are in pretty good shape. We walked around and looked at the condition of the hives, all the while the bees were quiet and calm-appearing......just biding their time. We approached the hive that should have been ready to harvest. Thomas lifted the lid and smoked them. There was a little bit of comb built on the lid, so he didn't remove it all the way to we could scrape the comb off......and the next thing I know the bees were all over us like flies on stink.

(Inspecting the apiary.......)

( 10 seconds after lifting the lid......)

Thomas said they were a little too aggressive at the moment and we shouldn't harvest in case they wanted to attack us. I hate to be contrary Thomas......BUT I THINK WE ARE ALREADY THERE. 

 I had on thick leather elbow-high gloves, and the bees couldn't sting through it.....but they were certainly trying. When a bee is trying to sting you, they do a little vibration thing with their abdomen that feels like a little buzz. My gloves were so covered with bees trying to sting me that it felt like someone was holding a tuning fork on my wrist. I repeated the phrase my dad taught me in my head, "I trust my suit......I trust my suit......I trust my suit......." That was until the bees found a little fold that buckled around the wrist because the gloves were so thick, and they launched a full blown invasion. It was then I lost all fondness for them. Instead of trying to somewhat gently brush them off, we just ripped off tree branches and started hitting each other with them to squash them(something I would never do to my sweet ladies here).

Don't let the smile fool you.......my knees are still wobbly....

We got in the house and crawled out of our space suits. And yes-I am wearing my raincoat underneath. Thomas insisted I needed every layer I brought for protection......turns out he was right. As the adrenaline rush wears off, I am left wobbly kneed, and drenched in fear sweat (raincoats don't breath much), and very thankful I didn't need my epi-pen.

I have not decided yet if the experience was worth the risk. I certainly must give Thomas props for doing this all the time. Beekeepers are crazy. Either way, I made it home safe and slept like a baby.

Until the next adventure......

Jessie

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Sweet and Peaceful

I am almost hesitant to say this in case it evokes the wrath of irony...... but things are going so well here. So much better than expected. For those of you who may be new to the Jess-orphan-babies-Saga, I am in the process of taking responsibility for 6 kids in the form of a small children's home. I fell in love with these pumpkins several years ago when i met them in an orphange. The orphanage has disgustingly corrupt leadership who are taking the donation money meant to provide for the children, and it got to the point where I could not bear to see them in those condtions anymore. I already moved two of the kids and gave their mother a job at the guest house, but there were 4 remaining that I didn't feel like it was safe to take them last time. So this time I came fully prepared to go trekking all over the bush with insufficient directions to find their grandfather (who proably doesnt speak English) in order to get him to sign the consent for relocation to my home. (I'm trying to avoid being accused of being a baby snatcher by the crazy-thief-orphanage lady).
On the morning I was planning on heading out on this grandfather hunt, there was a commotion at my door at 7 am. There was a woman waiting on my porch whom the children call their auntie (I think she is actually a neighbor). The oldest girl had called her to come meet me. I found out that she found the kids living in a hut they made of grass and leaves on the side of the grandfathers home, and asked if she could take me them to her home. She got a document from the village chief and the grandfather actually gave her custody. She also has children of her own and was really struggling to care for them, which is how they ended up in the a phoebe house. She also knew the conditions at the orphanage were horrendous, and had been praying and looking for somewhere else for the kids to go. She was a wonderful lady, and so thankful for a safe, happy place for the kids to go. She went to Phoebe House herself and told them she was taking the kids back to her home, so I didn't have to deal with them again, and now they don't even know the kids are here with me. Blessings! Within 12 hours of meeting her, the kids are now in my home, and in my care.

She told me when she first took the children, the oldest girl, Mideva, would only sleep during the day because she was used to sitting up all night. The shelter they were living in was apparently not very secure (one can only do so much with grass and sticks after all) and she was worried the wild dogs that roam at night would "carry off the littlest one", being Naomy. Heart strings......wrenched.

The first night they were all here they stayed up until almost midnight because they were just so excited. I am repainting the house, one room at a time, so they all hung out in the room I was working in and made up dances to the music on my phone I was listening to. Presh. They're staying at rotary house with me until the fundi (carpenter) finishes their new bunk beds. There are plenty of beds here, but they still wanted to sleep 3 to a bed. I had to show Naomy and Brian how to get under the sheet/blanket on the bed, since they had never had them before and they were trying to fold the blanket backwards and curl up under it. Awwwww.........

(Arnold literally face-planted in bed and did not stir the whole evening after his first day of school).

I have started to sneak into their room every night to make sure they are all asleep, and to just look at them, sweet and peaceful. This mzungu girl is feeling very happy and blessed right now. The children I love dearly are now finally safe, happy and loved. They will never go hungry, or sit up at night again. I can also rest easy at night once again. God is especially good today :)

Naomy: the kind of tired that only baby school can induce.....

Jacky and Mideva in the kitchen at Rotary House.

Jessie

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Buses and Sweet Boys

Well friends, let me wrap up the excitement of my travels to Maseno with one more catastrophe. After landing in Nairobi I had a mere 4 hours to wait until my bus to Maseno. 4 hours are certainly not bad......unless they begin at 3 am. I immediately regretting my decision to get on an 8-hour bus ride after traveling for 30ish hours (it kills me to say it Aryan-but you were right), but I am not one to admit defeat. Thank the heavens there were two lovely people also waiting for later flights, a Canadian girl and a Egyptian guy, and we passed the time quite nicely. The girl, Kristin, had just arrived for a 4-month research stint, and I fondly recognized the immisakeable I'm-half-way-around-the-world-and-I-don't-belong-here travel regret in her eyes. I remember it well. To keep myself awake and to keep her from bolting onto the next international flight to the western world, I made her a list of travel tips, places to go, and food to try. Then it was time to summon Charlie, my trusty Nairobi driver, to deposit me at the easy coach station. It was then my 8-hour ride began. Thanks again to the heavens, because I got one of the front seats, which meant I wouldn't have to arrive in Maseno with all my joints rattled loose.
I was in and out of consciousness throughout the ride, and would periodically stumble out of the bus to buy a pint of drinking yogurt and then stumble back on. I was roused out once for a flat tire-which I was none too pleased about. I fully regained my senses when we arrived in Kisumu, which was one town away from my home. Yay! Foolishly, I thought to myself, "you're done." I quickly became aware of 2 things; one-was that I needed to use the bathroom BAD(apparently drinking yogurt goes straight to the bladder), and two-I had an impressively matted rat's nest in my hair from my comatose head rubbing on a vinyl seat for 8 hours. I decided to deal with the most pressing issue first when we stopped in kisumu. Every other time we stopped, it was for a least 15-20 min, but just to be safe I asked the driver if I had time to run to the bathroom. He grunted in the affirmative. Or so I thought. So imagine my surprise a few minutes later when I came out, rat's nest still in place because I was in such a rush to get home, and found my bus gone. He left without me!!! And even more alarming to me, he had all my bags on board. I was still in a bleary-eyed stupor, but thankfully a lovely girl helped me summon a taxi to chase the bus down. In all my years in kenya, I have never seen anyone drive as slowly or cautiously as this one.....what are the odds? I was most concerned with my bag of Turkish treasures, followed by my backpack(where all my chocolate was stashed), then the medical supplies. They say crisis situations can bring out people's true feelings.....well, those were mine.
Next I tried to call some of my friends to go to the bus stop and see if they can meet it and grab my luggage, so it wouldn't continue on to Busia. And the network was down. All that was left to do was pray. We did not catch the bus, but we got there pretty shortly after it arrived. My bags and Turkish treasures were all in the office. The only thing I lost, (aka was stolen) was my favorite sweatshirt (yes-the black on with the thumb holes and fold over mittens). It's a loss I will feel deeply as it was not only my favorite, but also the only warm article of clothing I brought. Sadness. But I will press on.
It all became worth it when I pulled up in front of my home and was greeted by my sweet Arnold and Vinicent. Jackyline, of course, had an amazing meal waiting for me, and once again, I am back in love with Kenya :)
As I am sitting on the front porch writing this, my sweet boys are making me look "smart" (aka. Pretty). Vinicent started by picking flowers and gently arranging them in my hair. I know.....presh. (Mzungu hair is a novelty to boys and girls alike in Kenya). Not to be outdone, Arnold (with hands that could be described as less-than-gentle) started weaving leaves and twigs into the wreath-nest as well. Not exactly the outcome Vinicent was hoping for, but I was pleased with the results.
More to come shortly........
Xoxo,
Jessie

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Brits and Baklava

Hello again, my loyal blog readers. Your patience will be rewarded, as I have some gripping tales to tell you of my recent globe trot back to Kenya. Here's how it went down:
(Disclaimer: my technology got the better of me again and I cannot figure out how to get my phone pics on my ipad without Internet.....so I took a picture of the picture to you could get a vague idea of Turkey. The pic quality is so bad it's painful- sorry Omari ;)
My flight to, and layover in, NYC was largely uneventful. I then boarded my 10 hour flight to Istanbul, which went off without a hitch. I really do love finding my seat on the plane and discovering it is full of treats, just for me (never mind everyone else gets them too ;). A little goodie bag, slippers, my little blanket and pillow. It just makes me happy. I watched some movies, took a few naps, ate all the little miniature foods they brought me, and all around relaxed. Quite the treat for me. If only I could have completely stretched my legs out, now then I would have been utterly content. I wore my sexy compression socks as well, since last time I flew it looked like someone had baked loaves of bread into my sandals (I know, it paints a gross mind picture, doesn't it? ). So, I arrived in Istanbul with skinny feet and a mostly rested soul........quite ready for adventure. Now, I had an 8 hour-ish layover in Istanbul, so I decided to venture out of my little airport cocoon and experience Turkey. I'll be honest, I was as motivated by the prospect of getting a Turkish visa and stamp in my passport as I was about seeing the city. I just really love those stamps :).
Anyway, I got a hold of a map of the metro and a general sense of where the cool stuff was most congested-and then headed in that direction. I then met an interested pair, Dan and Anna, who were also headed downtown, so we set off together. It seems an odd phenomenon, but it always makes me feel better to go with someone else, even if they have even less of an idea of where to go than I do. So after a jousled hour of public transit, I bid my new friends farewell and set off to see the Blue Mosque. Which was absolutely stunning. All around that area of town there were little wrought-iron encircled islands of ornately carved gravestones or statues. And on several of the blocks there were little moss covered havens of what can only be described as "ancient ruins", tucked between modern buildings and shops. Very cool. The street food was spectacular, and as expected, there was baklava and turkish delight on every corner :)

While wandering around the courtyard of the mosque, I met a young man named Fezzie (or he met me, more like) and he took me to all the best scenic spots for pictures. To my great shame-I only had my camera on my phone with me :(. Then he took me to his family's carpet shop around the corner (don't worry mom-I was ready at the drop of a hat to pull out my rape whistle if he showed signs of stranger danger). I do not know if he was hitting on me, or trying to sell me a carpet, or he was just a nice guy. Either way, I really enjoyed seeing how the lovely carpets were made, and I had a nice chat with his uncle over the best apple tea I have ever had, in the cutest little cup :). The carpets were priced based on the size, but more importantly-how many knots per square inch. My favorite rug had a fiesty pinkish red design and took 1 woman 18 months to make. Fezzie's nephew was the rug boy, and they would chatter in Turkish and point, then he would select the rug they wanted and roll it out on the floor with such a delightful flourish. I definitely got the feeling he had to practice that before he was given the job.

After the carpet encounter, I made my way to the bazaar, or market, to do a little shopping. I wisely set a timer on my phone because, as many of you know, nothing makes time fly for me more than shopping in international craft markets :). And oh my-did they have the most lovely things !!!! With new treasures in tow, I headed back to the airport to hop on yet another flight. At this point the jet lag was starting to kick in. I realized I was nodding off while standing up on the subway when I looked up and caught a cherub-ish old woman in a head scarf laughing at me.

The second flight was similar to the first: movie, food, nap, repeat. With one exception. During my second movie, I was startled awake when a large Russian man collapsed in the aisle, literally at my feet. He was only out for a few seconds, which I used to untangle myself from a mess of blankets and headphones, stumble over his body to try to lift elevate his legs a bit, and call for help (which by this point was a little unnecessary since everyone one the plane was watching). The most likely and less dangerous cause of his swoon was he just had too many of those little bottles of wine and stood up too fast. The more unlikely, but much more dangerous possibility, was that he had a pulmonary embolism. As I was trying to assess this and find someone who spoke Russian and English, the man in front of me gnawed right through my last nerve. Let me preface this next part by saying, this incredibly loud British man was sitting in front of me and talked the ENTIRE flight to a girl he did not know (I know this because I heard their whole conversation). And he just happened to be the expert in just about everything, including how to "fix" Africa ( don't get me started). I could even hear him over the dragon fight scene in Harry Potter-goblet of fire. After giving his loud, professional recommendation for this man's treatment (the man worked in business), he put his hand on my arm and informed me I didn't need to trouble myself with giving him the "kiss of life" since he was fine, he was just another drunk, angry Russian. Well. It was through gritted teeth that I informed him that I felt the responsibility to care for any passenger who found themselves on their back in the aisle, whether it be this drunk, angry Russian, or the arrogant, obnoxious Brit sitting in front of me.............thankfully we landed shortly after because things got a little awkward :)
There was one more adventure to this journey, but I am quite tired and I fear I may lose my readers interest if I ramble on anymore, so under my mosquito net I go.
Goodnight!
Jessie

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Honey and Hospital Rounds

The girls did a wonderful job at the mobile clinic at Mbaka Oromo. Our "waiting room" is pictured above. The clinic building is completely finished and is just awaiting furnishings. The government will post a medical officer and a nurse there once their housing is complete, which should be within a month. The village is responsible for finishing the housing and digging a placenta pit for the clinic (yes, that is exactly what it sounds like). So hopefully this is the last mobile clinic we will ever do there, from now on we can just work in the functioning clinic!

Another school sent their older girls as well, and they all received the menstration/safe sex talk and a set of reusable maxi-pads. One little girl came late and we had already given out all the pads we had. She was so upset she started crying, so we told her we would give a set to my friend, Job, before we leave, since we had more at the rotary house. I got a call from Job 2 days later asking if he could come pick up the pads that day since she had been coming to his house twice a day to see if he had them yet. Her impressive persistence gives us an idea of the impact those pads have on these school age girls. Poor Job though, he's a great teacher, but he's also a young guy, and i think its safe to say maxi-pads are not his forte:) I think he was quite relieved to pick them up so he could put an end to the daily house calls ;)

The girls also got to observe quite a few surgeries during their time in Maseno. One of the students, Maria, was also an OR tech at home, so she scrubbed in on several occasions. Not only was it a great learning experience, but it was a huge help to the hospital, since the surgeries took place at night and we were the only ones around. It was certainly a lot more hands on than the typical nursing school OR experience :). I think it was also a nice break for Aryan, our roommate and volunteer lab manager, who doubles as a scrub nurse whenever someone is needed at night to hold clamps/limbs, or recieve babies. This man is going to be very well trained when he starts medical school :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

To enter this OR, you are required to leave your shoes at the door (actually just inside the door so they are still there for your walk home), then you throw on some flip flops to keep the floors from getting covered in that lovely red Kenyan dirt. Then you head to the changing rooms to throw on some "theater scrubs" and rubber boots. We are able to do surgeries after dark now that we have a backup generator, since power outages are still fairly common. Our ventilator is still manual (you squeeze a bag to breathe for the patient), but lights and suction need electricity.

My personal favorite part of the day is rounding in the wards. The wards are set up in the old English style of large open rooms with patients only a few feet from each other.

The team then goes from bed to bed and discusses each patient, what happened since yesterday, and what the plan is today. The girls chose a patient each day to present in rounds, and explain their illness and treatment thus far. I'm sure doctors everywhere would cringe at the thought, but we are getting very good at reading a chest x-ray by window light :). I find this the most challenging and brain-stimulating part of my day. It makes me dust off some of my unused clinical knowledge, and lets be honest here-makes me look up and learn a lot of new things. Rounding with Adam while he was here reminded me of how much I don't know (in a good way :) and kinda started getting me excited to go back to school someday to fill in some of those knowledge gaps. Well, enough about my continuing education aspirations, let me tell you about an interesting patient we had.

Violet is a woman in her late 30's who was in a piki-piki (motorcycle taxi) accident. Her major injury was to her right knee, where most of the flesh was gone, but the muscle and bone was intact. Once she was stabilized, my challenge was keeping the wound from getting infected. To make this even harder, we currently have a shortage of gauze. At home, I would typically use a special type of guaze with anti-microbial agents in it, and change it 1-2 times per day. I knew we didn't have enough gauze for that, and all I had was antibiotic ointment. Some studies have shown that antibiotic ointments will actually hold excess moisture in the skin and grow bacteria if they are left on the wound too long, so I decided against that. So, as usual, Kenya forced us to get a little creative and think outside the box.

The doctor who had done the debridement of the wound had advised the family to put honey on it, but the nurses hadn't been doing that because they didn't think it was a good idea. The nurse's reasoning was logical because typically anything with sugar in it would be a breeding ground for bacteria. However, my father happens to be a beekeeping extraordinaire, and I remembered him teaching me about the anti-microbial properties of honey, and that it is one of the only natural substances that virtually no organism can grow in because the sugar content is so high.

So we decided to give it a shot. The above photo is one of my students pouring the honey on to my sterile field as I am showing them how to do a sterile dressing change and wound packing. I'm pretty sure it was a new experience for everyone involved :)

We've been dressing the wound for over a week now with the honey, and I must say, it looks great. No infection, beautiful granulation tissue forming. I don't know if it will ever be able to completely heal without a skin graft, but that is a challenge for a different day. She happens to be the neighbor of one of my dear friends, so I can find her once she leaves the hospital. I intend to follow up with her in the months to come to see how she is healing and what further treatments she might need.

As always, I will keep you posted!

Jessie

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Maseno and Maternity

The girls have now arrived in Maseno and they have jumped right in. The very first night Annemarie got to witness her first birth. We thought it going to be a C-section, but the surgeon refused because there wasn't any blood available in case he couldn't control the bleeding.

So we did a type and screen to determine her blood type, and ran it over to the lab and tracked down the tech to run it. As luck would have it, she was the same blood type as Aryan, so after a lengthy hunt for a blood bag, Aryan donated a pint. Then we had to send the driver out again to get the surgeon. Take into account, between each of these steps was a trip between the lab/maternity ward/men's ward/etc in the dark, with a headlamp. While we were trying to get the surgeon to pick up his phone, I heard the nurse in the delivery room say, "scuma!"' Which means push, so I tossed a pair of rubber boots and a apron to my student and she got to see the delivery. Talk about jumping right in :).

The girls are not only sharpening their nursing skills, but they are learning to do it by headlamp light when the power is out, as pictured above (all pictures including patients were only taken after asking permission). A lot of them are interested in going into something maternity related, so they that is where they have been spending their first 2 days. Most deliveries here are conducted by. Ursing students or nurses, but doctors are rarely called unless they need to assess for a C-section. Quite a bit different from the US.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nancy and the students also put on a seminar with the Maseno School of Nursing using Mama Natalie, which is a simulator designed for developing countries to teach simulations of birth complications and post-partum hemorrhage. Both groups of students really seemed to enjoy it and learn from it.

We also spent some time sorting through the plethora of donation the girls brought, the most exciting being several hundred cloth, reusable maxi-pads. There are quite a few schools in the area wanting us to come and talk and include their girls in our pad program. And it that isn't cool enough, the pads come in pretty patterns and colors :). Sweet! If you would have told me a year ago I'd be up to my elbows in pink flannel maxi-pads when I came back to Kenya, I'd have scoffed......life is funny that way sometimes:)

Jessie

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I haven't worn this yet, why is it damp?

I know I am super behind on posting, so I will be putting these up a little retroactively, as to can catch up all my faithful followers.

Well, things are going swimmingly here in Kenya, and have now traded in my two travel companions (Adam and Lauren) for a posse of 9 wazungu(my students).

Adam did a phenomenal job at the hospital, and now I am being peppered with questions of, "When is Daktari Adams coming back?"

He was completely unphased by the lack of a daily schedule or consistency, and seemed to delight in the frequent, awkward situations arising from the language and cultural gaps......this bodes well for him if he decides to pursue a longer stay in Africa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lauren has been a delight to have here and may very well be the hardest worker I have ever seen. I have yet to see her tire. She has been helping me with all the preparations for the children's home we are hoping to establish on the hospital grounds.

This is her helping move mattresses into our stockpile of supplies for the new house. They got to experience haggling at its best when we took a little trip to the Luanda market to get all the things for the children. Right now we having a growing stash in the back room of the Rotary House while we are waiting on official hospital approval to move the kids, which I am afraid will eventually come down to the Bishop.

We kept quite busy the first week trying to secure a house for the kids. I knew of one empty house in the compound I was hoping to get, but the hospital administration offered me an even better one. Awesome. The only hiccup was that someone was still living there. Not awesome. And we had to move two families into other homes to open that house up. So Lauren and I made trip after trip down the dirt path with arms filled with boxes and pots, until everyone was where they supposed to be.

One of the many blessings on this trip has been our 4th roommate, Aryan. He's been living here for the last 5 months, and appears to have made friends with, literally, everyone in Maseno. We'd emailed and talked on the phone a good bit before his trip here to arrange some travel details, but this was the first time we had met in person. The first thing he said when he met me was, "I thought you were a 50 yr-old lady!". Despite His poor assessment of my youthful character over the phone, he has been a great help and delightful friend. He's been a wonderful resource and help navigating the choppy political waters of the hospital. It also helps that he and Adam seem to be long-lost brothers. For those of you who know Adam, you can imagine our evenings together in the Rotary House are never dull :)

I have also had the pleasure of seeing my electrican and fundi (carpenter) almost every morning, since there seem to be an endless list of things that need to be repaired on the house. Sigh......'tis the life of a guest house manager, I suppose :)

I had to leave Adam and Lauren for 2 days to hop a bus to Naitobi to fetch my students from the airport (pictured above). Traveling with my students is Erin Kane, a fellow Duke nurse and dear friend of mine. I nearly had happy feet waiting in the arrivals bay waiting for her to come though the door. There are few things in this world I love as much as sharing my Kenya with a dear friend:)

 

After traveling to Nakuru and visiting an incredibly well-run hospital and orphanage, we headed to the Kakamega rainforest for an little adventure. Adam and Lauren met us there and we stayed in little Banda huts in the middle of the forest. Even though the name should have given us ample warning, my students were slightly unnerved by being perpetually damp for 2 days. But they were troopers, and still had a great time.

The highlight was definitely the sunrise hike we took to the top of a little mountain where we could see out over the treetops. We started the hike in the dark, around 4:30 am, when the forest was completely silent. By the time we reached the top it was nearly roaring with all the sounds of birds and insects singing, and monkeys calling to each other.

 

 

Not all the students were as keen on hiking as I am, but I was very proud-they all made it to the top. Most even braved the bowels of the mountain and went into the bat cave near the top. There really weren't very many bats in there, but there is something very unnerving about any winged creature flapping about your head. It was certainly enough to make your hands sweat and your heart race a bit, and I think those are the only two iron-clad qualifiers for an act of bravery :)




 

To reward our brave girls, Tony and Isaac, our friends and drivers, brought us sugar cane to munch on. It took a little practice as sugar cane is neither a dainty or effortless treat, but they got the swing of it.

I will continue to update you with our adventures as we head to Maseno and prepare to roll up our sleeves and jump into the Kenyan healthcare system :)

Jessie

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