It’s thundering outside. Rainy season is still (officially) a month away, but this is our second thunderstorm in a week and a half.
The storms here roll in quickly. First it is beautiful blue skies outside, hot, but clear as far as you can see. Then there are a few clouds, and then the thunder comes as a warning from the distance. Quickly now. Thunder, then a few drops of rain, and then the storm. It crashes down, all at once. My thatched roof, finally expanded and settled in from the last rain, is successfully keeping me dry as the storm rages around my little hut.
An ambulance came to the clinic this week. The nurses from the Boma (the name for our district town, Mwinilunga) hopped out and quickly wrapped chitenges around their white uniform pants before continuing with their job.
Life is slower here. When the in-charge at my clinic calls for an ambulance from the Boma, 45km away, at 9am, it arrives around 11:30. The nurses walk in, they chat with the in-charge, slowly. They take a look at the woman lying on the bed before slowly lifting her into the ambulance to take her away.
The woman is having complications with her pregnancy, is bleeding, and needs a blood transfusion.
Life here is all at a different pace. My mornings are filled, because I design them that way, filled with fetching water, making breakfast, doing my dishes, going to the clinic, but then I get to the afternoon and need to think of things to do. Work on my hut, or go to the headmasters house to buy vegetables, or wash my clothes or go for a run. Or read. I do a lot of reading here. It’s a good routine. It gives my days some semblance of structure, which I need so that I don’t go crazy.
The first three months here are community entry, where I’m not supposed to do any programs, but am just supposed to hang out, get a feel for my village, what it needs, set up my hut, settle in in general. So it is all a bit slow, but that’s life. I figure out ways around being bored, and slowly slowly it’s not so bad. It’s really okay.