Under the Weather in Oshikunde

Late at night one Sunday - perhaps it was Monday morning - I awoke with discomfort in my belly and in the back of my throat. Because I was still half asleep, the only thought that I can recall having is, “not good.” I quickly came to terms with what I was going to have to face over the next few hours, and because I have no running water, used a determined burst of energy to grab one of my buckets from the kitchen and place it at the side of my bed. You can guess what followed.

There was no way I would be able to attend school, so I tried to find a silver lining in the fact that I would have a lot of time to read while I rested and recovered. I fully expected to have a 24-hour flu bug and be back at work, if not quite at 100%, the next day. Not only was I ill to the point that I could not even bring myself to open my book, this flu spell lasted into Wednesday, and by Saturday I still would feel feverish and exhausted at around 5 or 6 in the evening.

Information has few channels to travel through in Namibia. Furthermore, it has few reliable sources. I obviously notified my principal that I would be missing work, but the message did not make it to the rest of the staff. When I did not appear early on Monday morning as usual, different minds created different conjectures, and as people spoke different theories slowly spread. Mr. Brent is at an educational workshop. Mr. Brent is in Ondangwa. Why is his light on in the dead of night? He must have forgotten to switch it off before he left (It was not until Tuesday evening that another colleague learned that I was ill). Oh, Brent is not well; he must be in the hospital in Eenhaha. He is at the Oshikunde Clinic.

No, I actually was just in bed, and the light was left on so I could see my way to the bathroom whenever I may need to.

As other staff members learned that I was sick and at home, I began to get visitors and wishes for a quick recovery. Inevitably, when a teacher saw that my bed contained only two sheets, one blanket, and one unzipped sleeping bag to cope with the “winter”, I was asked, “Are you not very cold?” Another colleague told me he was very worried about me walking barefoot on my cold floor. Germ theory is printed in the biology textbooks, but in common thought, weather changes make you sick, and every disease is malaria. Fever? Malaria. Diarrhea? Malaria. Headache? Malaria.

I greatly appreciated their concerned. I was also extremely touched by one particular teacher who gave me one of his blankets and cooked me a hot bowl of rice for dinner. However, because malaria season ends with the wet season as pools dry up and cold-blooded mosquitoes can’t quite hack it in the chilly weather, and because two other volunteers that I attended a cultural festival and ate traditional food with on the weekend prior got sick with the same symptoms at the same time, I was pretty sure it was something I ate.

I befuddled some people with my confidence that only a few days rest was needed rather than a visit to a hospital, and although it took a few days longer that I originally expected I am now back on my feet and teaching, and much more wary of traditional cuisine.