The Word according to fluctuations in atmospheric pressure.

October 7, 2008

Chaapans.

The power has been out for most of the day. It decided to come back on for dinner and post dinner email checking, but then it decided to go on its merry way again. But it is back now.

So I might have gotten around to writing a week ago, but I might not have. I might not even finish what I am writing right now. It might be saved for another day. I’ve been reading too much Tom Robbins, so I am thinking in paradox. But I suppose paradox is balance or perhaps it is disorder or the meeting place of disorder. Or possible if the stars align properly disorder might in fact be order, and order is anarchy. But then what does that make a meeting place? Too much Even Cowgirls Get The Blues.

The reason I wrote the sentence above, “So I might have gotten around to writing a week ago, but I might not have,” is known to me but it is not known to you. I might choose to make it known to you if you choose to keep reading. I am in fact (not) delusional but what in fact is delusion if the world is but an apparition of order. And who needs order in the first place. Too much Tom Robbins and African revolutionary authors.

I had a fever of 101.6 or 7 or maybe it was 101.5 this past Friday night. I was going to go out to a club, but for some reason I felt that I should take my temperature. Saturday’s temperature was similar, both mine and the Gambia’s and after being strongly encouraged by my housemates to go to the clinic, I went. Mohomed and I set out to see the doctor and took the vans to the general vicinity, but we did a lot of walking in the hot sun to and from the clinic. I didn’t feel like paying for a town trip, but heat and fever go together about as well as the African sun and pasteurized milk. The doctor tested me for malaria after hearing of my fever and exhaustion.

(Sweeping Interlude). Rachel just screamed and called for Mohamed. She said that there was a rat in our compound, specifically in the bathroom. Mohamed came with a broom and entered the bathroom, and the broom swept away the rodent’s life. It turned out to be a pathetic baby mouse. Back to the story at hand.

Or rather the male nurse tested me for malaria. I didn’t see the doctor until after the test. Normally I would go back and edit that mistake in content, but the malaria meds make my memory meander. The nurse man stabbed a piece of metal, man into my thumb, man. Then he took my appendage and squeezed the contents of it onto a glass slide. The results?

And now a word from our sponsors. You will have to read on. This is an unnecessary ply to place something out of order that could easily have been added after the end of the doctor’s visit. After the visit Mohamed and I stopped for some carryout fufu in Serekunda. Fufu is a Nigerian paste made out of yams. The mashed yams are used as sort of bread to dip in the sauce and meat. We had beef fufu. Nasty fatty pieces and cow skin. I was disappointed that we didn’t have any cow feet, tongue or testicles. The sauce was mildly spicy and had traces of fish in it, but the power in it was the cow parts. It tasted okay. It wasn’t my favorite, especially the cow skin, but I will have it again. And now back to the program.

I took the note to the doc, but I read it first. We both confirmed that the test said that I was negative for malaria. But then again I am taking a prophylaxis, Larium, so the parasite might not show. My white blood cell count was down though. Doc Njie gave me 5 days worth of Ampicllin which cost me 50 Delasis (2 dollars). The American drug companies should get it together and stop being so greedy. That was two dollars without insurance. He said if I still had a fever on Monday, then I should fill the malaria prescription that he gave me.

Skip Sunday until later.

Monday came around and I woke to a fever. Went to the clinic, they took my blood pressure and weighed me. They didn’t take my temperature because all of their glass thermometers were broken leaving them with nothing. By the way the scale they used is your everyday home use scale. So the doctor said that if I were to have a fever again later in the day to go on the malaria treatment.

I took a cab to Westfield and bought the drugs for 200 Delasis. 10 bucks. Not bad. So right now it is 9:21pm and I am exhausted, and my mind is all over the place. But I think that it is probably doing pretty well, since I am writing something that resembles intelligence. I’ll see how it looks in the morning. It’s a combination of the malaria medication, my illness, whatever it might be, and the state of the universe.

So I will finish the medication in a few days. I am feeling better for all of you who might be worried, and I only have a mild fever now. Here ends this part of this entry. The rest will consist of Koriteh, not going up country, my naming ceremony, and the National Environmental Agency. I assure you it will be enthralling if not beguiling (although the difference between those words is so trivial it’s not of much use to use them both). Now I think I will go study or something of the sort for a quiz that Professor Femi Ojo-Ade is giving tomorrow.

I am back after drinking some water and I have reached a heightened state of awareness with the help of the 500mls of bagged Naturelle water, so I am not studying until tomorrow.

It was I or maybe it was my father that posed the question, “What is the difference between a duck?” And certainly the logical response is a cantaloupe. Then he might ask, “What is the difference between an electric butter knife and a goose?” Of course the levelheaded answer would be a duck. This segment served to either enlighten you or demoralize you, depending on your perspective. That is all.

Disclaimer: It says above that I would be discussing “Koriteh, not going up country, my naming ceremony, and the National Environmental Agency.” That is all a lie. That is in the next issue. Sorry to make you wait, sort of. Oh and I would appreciate any and all comments. Please do comment vigilantly and extravagantly without regard for reason, civility or restraint. By the by, chaapans is the Wolof equivalent of “What the hell,” or “heckbones” for the more mild of heart. Paz y amor.