Dawn is stretching itself across the eastern sky. I used to be excited when I had to wake up before first light to go out on field activities. Now it's just early. I stir myself enough to take a picture of the sunrise, since I have an hour car ride to the mobile clinic site that I'm visiting. I'm out so early to check up on the setup procedure, which I have heard is still problematic, even after 3 weeks of activity. We should be able to set up a functional mobile clinic in a couple tents within an hour and a half, and apparently we are taking 4 hours. When I heard about that, I programmed myself on the next early morning ride.
The next day, I'm on the road again at 6am, before first light, but this time by foot. I'm walking from the living compound to the pharmacy compound to give a cold chain training, and the sun is rising in front of me. I load my training with funny expressions, so the audience of 40 people packed into the cold chain shelter will remember the information I am droning at them. I call the ice packs pregnant, I talk about chickens hatching. I'm not sure if anything I say resonates with these nurses and doctors, but I hope it is memorable. I'm recalling my physics classes in high school, with the high specific heat of water, and the second law of thermodynamics. Somehow, I don't think bringing that up would be helpful. I'm referencing science and asking the trainees to think back to their school days, in science class. I have no idea how the school system is structured in Uganda, whether they were expected to learn any of this or not. We go over the state changes of matter, and the freezing point of water. We get stuck on the fact that ice can be colder than 0 degrees. We go over it again. I think we get past that. I hope I'm not giving offense. We move on to condensation. Hopefully without condescension.
The rest of the day passes in meetings and reports, and the sun sets with me still in the pharmacy compound, finishing a meeting over whiskey. As we walk back to the living compound, we mourn there is no time for our favorite workout video, to say goodbye as a team.
Because tomorrow I leave at 6am for the end of my mission. I will see the sun come up one more time this week, while on the road in Uganda.
The next day, I'm on the road again at 6am, before first light, but this time by foot. I'm walking from the living compound to the pharmacy compound to give a cold chain training, and the sun is rising in front of me. I load my training with funny expressions, so the audience of 40 people packed into the cold chain shelter will remember the information I am droning at them. I call the ice packs pregnant, I talk about chickens hatching. I'm not sure if anything I say resonates with these nurses and doctors, but I hope it is memorable. I'm recalling my physics classes in high school, with the high specific heat of water, and the second law of thermodynamics. Somehow, I don't think bringing that up would be helpful. I'm referencing science and asking the trainees to think back to their school days, in science class. I have no idea how the school system is structured in Uganda, whether they were expected to learn any of this or not. We go over the state changes of matter, and the freezing point of water. We get stuck on the fact that ice can be colder than 0 degrees. We go over it again. I think we get past that. I hope I'm not giving offense. We move on to condensation. Hopefully without condescension.
The rest of the day passes in meetings and reports, and the sun sets with me still in the pharmacy compound, finishing a meeting over whiskey. As we walk back to the living compound, we mourn there is no time for our favorite workout video, to say goodbye as a team.
Because tomorrow I leave at 6am for the end of my mission. I will see the sun come up one more time this week, while on the road in Uganda.
No comments:
Post a Comment