Post date: Aug 9, 2014 8:20:21 PM
1 January 1964
The PC doctor came last Friday with my trunk. He also brought the news that I may help the new arrivals with training in maintenance of Jeeps and Motorbikes. That means a free vacation in Enugu. I think I will return the Jeep. The doctor here (Arochuku hospital) goes out very often, as do the Irish fathers at Ututu.
I have changed my work at the hospital (where I volunteered over the Christmas school vacation). The lockers for patients' belongings are filthy. I don't think some of them have ever been washed. So I decided to wash them and paint the top surfaces, which are too dirty. At least they give the appearance of white rather than black, now. The hospital does not prepare food. The patients must have family or friends bring food to them. The hospital does provide milk to mothers in maternity (given by the USA) but I haven't seen too much of it being given out in other wards. The place is divided into maternity, men’s, women's wards and a couple of cubicles. The wards are each 12-bed.
Because the patients feed themselves, there are always dirty visitors around, and the lockers have bits of garri and popo stuck to them and banana peels in the corners. I think I have persuaded the attendant in the male ward to wash one each day, which, if it keeps up, means each locker will be washed every two weeks. I had to work to get him to use Ajax.
The out-patient clinic operates from 8 to 2:30 each day, continuous, with only one doctor. On operating days, Tuesdays, the doctor usually has about 5 hernias, then goes to the clinic until 2:30. Surgery is about the best-run part, probably because that is the doc‘s favorite field. He says almost everybody here has a hernia, and often bilateral. He thinks it is hereditary. Most other surgery is emergency, often at night. At night he must use light from two Tilley lamps, about as bright as one Colman lamp. These are often obstructed deliveries. Doc dislikes and will not perform administrative duties: the wards only get attention when something bad goes wrong, such as the nurse does not shake down the thermometer or give medicine to out-patients without prescription.
Over Christmas I had an American visitor. He is a librarian at the University of Lagos, from Flint, Mich. He brought his steward home for vacation and stayed in his compound for three days. We found a cave very near school which looks quite big from the entrance, but we can‘t go in because it is powerful juju, and some of the village elder would be quite offended. I am going to see if the juju priest will take me there. An alligator died in there about three years ago, and one of the teachers here went in to get it but could not drag it out. When he went back some old men from town were there and he had a dickens of a time for a while. But he got his dead alligator.
The new road will pass over the top of this cave, near the mouth, and I am afraid that the tractors will cave it in. The road will go right past the school. The roads here are not paved, but ‘tarred’. This means that if the ground gets soft in the rains, the road still gets soft, but doesn't wash. Some of the tarred roads are very rough.
Everything in my trunk arrived in perfect condition. Thanks. I have been a bad boy and already built the simpler of the two airplanes. Bad because I should be typing chemistry and physics and finishing my boat [model]. I am rigging the boat now, a process which takes infinite patience, but is good psychotherapy. I am stuck at sail, but I think I will use a ragged handkerchief for sailcloth. Boat models usually have sails which are too coarse and stiff. Maybe this well look all right. Dr. Brinker, the PC doctor, is a radio ham and model airplane enthusiast. He will try to get me fuel if I can't find any. He is getting his radio license and has a station in his surface freight (which hasn't arrived after six months).
I have had a few students watching while I built models, and the airplanes will be left unpainted so the structure shows. I have students studying or chatting in my small house nearly all the time. They come over for problems or help. I have a Science Club.
No one likes Arochuku. The students, the Principal (always going on long trips), the natives (move out as fast as they grow up), the teachers (we lost the three best tutors this Xmas, and one more is staying only long enough to write a thesis).
I think my next savings will go for a tape recorder. Mick can get me a good Phillips battery powered one from the British Council for a 40% discount: $56 instead of $95. Then you can send me tape recordings of music, which I miss very much here. Records have a duty of 50%, but tapes get in very cheap.. There are many things to tape record here besides the songs and dances. Especially interesting are the remarks of locals about local customs and juju and history. Also I want to transcribe some of the rhythms and songs, for which I need a recorder.
28 January 1964
I’m sick again—this time some kidney infection. No out-patient clinic today, so I’ll have to see the doctor tomorrow.
I found out why the mail out of here is so slow: it goes by bicycle to Itu (20 miles), then by bike to Uyo (15 miles), then by bike to Aba (30 miles), finally by train to Port Harcourt airport. Takes three days to get to Aba, a trip which the lorry makes in half day.
The Principal’s son will teach physics—which I had so laboriously prepared. We have no biology or general science teacher yet. I am getting disgusted with the situation here and have written the Peace Corps director about a possible transfer.
It is hot and wet today. 87 degrees and intermittent showers. Very uncomfortable.
The Igbo people are incredibly friendly. As I ride down the road everyone waves and smiles—even the old women. The Efik (south of here) are most friendly, too. If I stop to ask directions everyone in glad to help. When I try to ask someone who doesn’t ‘hear’ English, he hails someone who does, and there is always someone nearby. Even in bush markets the women can often bargain in pidgin English and if not, there is always someone at hand who has been to primary school [where English is required study]. So there is no need to learn Igbo. The other need is to buy bananas for food when traveling. It is very convenient just to stop and buy a penny or two of bananas. Bread is sold everywhere (in townships) by primary school boys.
Classes sort of start tomorrow. We will muddle along with only a few classes for three days, in the hope that more teachers will materialize. This is way below par for this school, which generally takes two or three weeks to get going.