It was 8 o’clock on a Saturday night and we had just gotten
back from Tulear, the regional capital, dropping off a volunteer who was about
to leave. We made dinner, watched an episode of House and said goodnight. While
I was preparing for bed, I heard my phone ring (Bang Bang by will.i.am) and put
my toothbrush down to answer it; it was one of our workers that lives in the
closest village, Sala, his wife was sick and needed to get to the hospital
ASAP. This was all said in broken English and with sobs being heard in the
background. I said yes and went to get Lala’s, our volunteer coordinator, as we
are the only two here at camp at the moment. We got dressed and ready to go to
pick her up in the village. We got to her house and half of the village was
there waiting. I was very thankful that the car was behaving herself and not
having problems. We loaded her into the car and off we went with 12 people in
the car.
I had never driven at night on these roads and was worried
about getting to the hospital in Tulear (a 40 min car ride) quickly and safely
as the road are in terrible condition. My job was to drive and the other women
in the cars job was to care for her, but it was difficult to keep my focus when
all I can hear was her suffering and the women talking to her Malagasy. We
arrived at the hospital and went to the emergency bay. We were greeted by one
man who just stood there while all her family got things ready for her. Sala,
her husband, went into the hospital and got the stretcher out, he set it up and
then got her onto it. Other members of her family were preparing her room and
moving her into it. It was very surreal for me to watch how a hospital worked
here in Madagascar, very much so opposite to what happens in America. After
about 10 minutes of waiting, Sala comes out and says we have to go to a
pharmacy because the hospital does not have the medications needed? I can’t
imagine what my face looked like by that point, but of course I said yes and
drove him to the only all night pharmacy about 15 minutes away from the
hospital. We arrive back at the hospital with the medications in hand and wait.
Twenty minutes later, Sala comes out and says that we can leave, that his wife
has to stay at the hospital for some time. He thanks me over and over again,
and I don’t even know what to say to him. I’m sorry about your wife? I hope she
gets better soon? All of the above! Sala and most of her family will stay with
her. This includes 2 new mothers who brought their babies with them, ready stay
as long as they were needed.
Lala’s, I and a few others climb into the car and headed
back to Honko.
Thinking of all of this now, it feels almost like a dream, that
it never happened, but I know it did and I am thankful that I was here to help.
It’s crazy to think about that most of the country here would not have been
able to get to the hospital, they would have had to wait till the morning and
hopefully catch public transportation or a zebu (cow) cart. There are no
ambulances here, no police cars that would come to help, and no one can afford
a car! How fortunate many of us are to have a system set up to help us, any
time, any place, any circumstance. That people are out there with the sole
purpose to make sure you are ok and to keep you that way. What amazing people
they are! It humbles me to think that, I forget the kind of sacrifices that
people make every day for other people. So don’t forget to thank ambulance
drivers, nurses, medics, doctors, service workers, because they are working for
you, even if you don’t know or care, they are.
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