Grönköpings Veckoblad

Boredom might well be the single most underappreciated state of being in the human existence. The  state of not knowing what to do with the day, and being totally OK with that fact. Thus has been my past week, post exams. A week of recuperation that is sorely needed after the grueling ordeal that is mid terms. It went well though, and now I can enjoy my vacation. 

As stated, the first couple of days have consisted of me just lazing about without a care, but that does get old after a while. Thankfully, I am packing the bags and going for a bit of a trip, because I am  getting a visitor. My lovely sister is coming over to Poland for a week, to see how I have it over here. It will be interesting for her I am sure, Olsztyn has changed quite a bit since she was here last in the  spring of 2012. I mean, back then what we relied on for shopping experience was Alfa Centrum, that says a lot in itself.

First stop is Gdansk though. I am revisiting a hostel that I liked the last time I was here. It is a hostel with a bike theme, perhaps something a summer visit will take more use of. Wintertime and bike riding are not particularly suited for each other. 

I arrived in Gdansk a couple of hours early, jumped on the train in Olsztyn and 2hrs later here I was. Since I wouldn’t be going to Sweden this break, the next best thing would have to do: IKEA. It might well be the first IKEA outside of Sweden I have visited, and now this might only be in Gdansk, but I never realized how Swedish IKEA really is. I step in, and all of a sudden a feeling of lagom embraces me. Almost wanted to have a fika pause mid-shopping. Of course this would have been totally possible since there is the IKEA food court inside,  but I managed to restrain myself. 

I suppose that was to be expected though, all the Swedish food and ambiance and everything, but  what surprised me most was the interior decorations of the rooms. Take the bookshelves for instance, instead of being filled with Polish literature there were such things as Grönköpings Veckoblad in  there. I was quite surprised to say the least. Anywho, I found what I needed (obviously, I mean, it is IKEA after all) and left with a good dose of Sweden that ought to last me a couple more months. 

Summer Work 2014

After a prolonged hiatus I feel it may be time to pick up the pen and ever so slowly revive my blog. No promise on any sort of regularity or frequency of coming blog posts, but they will exist. I have never seen "Redsurfable" as an obligation,  but rather a tool to express creativity and to share some excerpts from my life, and this will continue. On a positive note, this extended break has given me a lot of material to use for coming posts. Let's start with what I was up to the summer of 2014.
Upon finishing my 3rd year of medicine l returned to the forests of Småland. I would spend a total of 3 months in Sweden: the entire summer vacation. I was looking forward to this extended stay in what quite literally is the motherland. Last time I spent at least 3 months in the Land of Fika was when I was 15, so a return was long due. Even though I was on summer vacation, there were still a load of things to get done, not least on the work front. I managed to get a job in a retirement home, working as a nurse's assistant. Now in the retirement home life is a lot different: everything revolves around the meal times. Everybody is woken up and readied for breakfast,  some needing more help than others,  thus depending on the day this could take its sweet time. After breakfast has been had, and the stubborn have been conivnced on consuming the rather vital morning pills, the day begins. Well, it does for some. The more active of the seniors would go for some morning gymnastics,  or perhaps weaving or knitting. Others would look through the morning newspaper, and mumble something about how it was better before. Some would just return to bed and take a morning nap. Same sort of thing would happen after lunch and dinner also. It was a very good experience for me, to get some work experience in Sweden, and most importantly in the healthcare field.  Even though as a doctor my work will be very different and less patient oriented as that of a nurse's assistant,  I felt it was important to start from the bottom and work my way up. To solely study and then come to Sweden and start to work as a doctor with no other working experience is something I would not want to do.

My job was located in town, but as I was staying in my little village I had to have a car to get there.  After my struggles with getting a driver's license (I believe I have written about this before, if not that story needs to be documented) it felt extremely liberating to be able to get into my 2002 SAAB 93 and drive off towards whatever life had in store for me. People always said having a car was the essence of freedom, and I couldn't have agreed more.

Floods, Pigs, and HIV

It has been a couple academically arduous weeks since my last post, and a few interesting things have happened. Floods, pigs and HIV, to summarize it with a few words.

First things first though, the obligatory weather update. No more PMS weather (knock on wood), but from hear on out spring is properly present. As I type these words people are having the seasons first grill parties out by the lake, and everybody agrees that life is worth living again. The buzz is back, and the optimism (mine included) is just about bearable. In stark contrast, and I excuse the deviation from my usually lighthearted rhetoric,  my hometown in Mozambique is drowning in floods. Aside from the immediate death and destruction from obvious reasons, there are a lot of aftermath problems that one could spend a serious while discussing. In the interest of moving things along, however, I'll leave that discussion for another day. My family is fine though, for which I am thankful. 

This road leads to my neighborhood.

From flooded Pemba to something entirely different, we have started to learn the basics of suturing at school. Obviously we are all very much excited, especially as we get to do it on pigs. Yup, they bring us some chopped up pig legs and we get to tear them apart and stitch them back together again. I don't know if it is a tad macabre to find it enjoyable, but I have learned it is best not to think in these patterns. Especially not at autopsies. Trust me on this one, it will save whatever sanity you have left.

Martin busy at work

Pigture Perfect (not even sorry :P )

On to some news related to a little project I have been developing for some time. I am a coordinator of a Peer Education project for my university's branch of the student organization called IFMSA. It's all about educating other young people about HIV/AIDS, in an effort to deliver knowledge of a difficult topic in an understandable way. We had our first seminar just last week, for a group of high school students in the area, and it was well received and appreciated. All in all it was a pleasant start, and I'm feeling quite positive about it. Click for more info on Peer Education: HIV/AIDS.

Have a good week everyone!

P.S. Have Coldplay ever made a bad song? Honestly though, have they?? Their new one is fabulous.

Wipes and South African Humour

Growing up in Mozambique in the international community one inescapably gets saturated with a good dose of South African culture. Not only Braai parties and outdoor adventures, but also a certain cheeky style of humour. Already having a penchant for any astute observation of an innocent mistake, especially in official matters, this is right up my alley.
In South Africa they have a travel magazine called Getaway. Like your everyday travel magazine, it is a collection of stories of places by people who have made the trip there. However, what makes this magazine special is that they have a very popular section called "Funny Signs of the Week". Now, in Pemba, there lived this South African couple who not only had many Getaway magazines, but also the special edition compilations. Basically, an entire book filled with all the funny signs sent in by the readers of Getaway. Whenever we would visit them, I would sit on the floor and read all about these marvelous mishaps. It is something about the innocence of it all that makes it so ridiculously funny, with the owner of the sign often having no idea what it actually means. It is a clash of cultures at it's finest, and that is something the South Africans, and myself, find very amusing. I shall share some of my favourites:

=)

A rather unfortunate way to present this certain individuals name.

My absolute favourite. OF ALL TIME:

Right, so why this little anecdote from my past you ask? Well, I just happened to stumble upon something similar to other day when out shopping. It gave me a good laugh, so I thought I'd share it with the world. Enjoy, and have a great weekend everyone! 

If you ever wondered where to wipe.

P.S. if you are in need of a great song, and by some miracle have not yet heard this one, then I'd definitively give it a listen.

  

Gardarin On

Another week people! School has started out relatively decently, with a mix of tough and easy days. With certain classes not being given on a weekly basis, and others starting a bit later in the semester, there is yet room for some peace of mind. Plenty reading though (what's new, eh), so no lack of things to do with time. That has become a common feature as my studies have progressed, much more independent reading and learning than actual teaching in school. Much more responsibility, that is for sure.
I have been slightly sick for the past couple of days, some standard bug with a couple days incubation time followed by an annoying symptomatic period with fever, sore throat and a productive cough. As per usual, whenever I get sick, I am very keen on finding ways to get better. I find my hit-herto limited medical knowledge instills a certain curiosity, if not yet an actual concrete insight.
In my experience, there are two kinds of medical students. Those who despise pills and medication and wouldn't think of consuming such vile voodoo, and those who do nothing but just that. I am leaning more to the side of the latter. I find it fascinating what all these substances can do to our bodies, and who better to test them on than myself. So this time the elixir of choice was Gardarin, a Polish cough syrup. After reading and Google translating the ingredients, I was disappointed to find out that it was nothing but organic honey and chamomile extract, with a dash of citric acid to spice things up. No fancy chemicals or pseudo-toxic ailments. None. Dismayed, yes, but it tasted heavenly and did soothe the pain briefly, so I guess it did alright. Not near as badass as I had hoped though, next time I'm sick Ill have to try some other shady drugs.

I'll leave you all with this eccentric classic, if ever a fever dream had a melody am I right?

Here We Go Again

As term break draws to a close, and the music from the Valentine festivities starts to fade, it's about time to gear up once more for the inevitable, school. Second term of the third year of medicine brings the oh so fun subject of pharmacology, the study of medical drugs. There is a saying in Poland, that when you pass anatomy, you know you will be a doctor. When you pass pharmacology, you'll know when. Granted, there will be loads of tough courses in the future, but it does give it that a bit of extra mysticism.
Other than delving into the nitty gritty of NSAID's, there will be some other interesting new courses. Introduction to Surgery does sound rather tantalizing, even though I don't see myself as a future surgeon, I'm looking forward to familiarizing myself with the basics.

Not to get ahead of ourselves however, there is still the weekend to be had. Time to get loads of rest/fun in before sleeping suddenly becomes a memory of the past. As an example, Wednesday and Thursday there is class from 8 in the morning to 8 in the evening, with about 2 hrs break each day. Alrighty then. Coffee it is.

Don't we all have a love/hate relationship with this elixir?

To enjoy the weekend, here is decent progressive house song, perfect for a chill day. Take care.

Wearing the Trousers

Lists. There are few things that grab my attention more than those YouTube videos like 'Top 10 Movies of 2013' or 'Top 10 Hilarious Action Hero One-Liners'. Fair to say, WatchMojo has stolen a fair share of my allotment of time in this world. Nevertheless, lists are great, and so are pants, especially comfortable pants. Without further ado, here are my top 4 reasons to wear Capulana pants ( also related to Kente Pants, or any sort of  African Print Cloth Pants)

1. Comfort

If you are one of those unfortunate souls who have never tried Capulana pants before, don't waste another second. Rush to your closest African Cloth and Textiles store (no, it doesn't matter if that will require a flight or two) and buy yourself a good length of cloth. Then go to your tailor, and have some nice fitting pants made. The freedom is unfathomable. It barely feels like you are wearing anything at all, while at the same time providing the necessary concealing to remain socially acceptable. How much better can it get?

I'm not sure which screams freedom more, this or a bald eagle.

2. Low Maintenance

There is no pressing need to iron them. Any wrinkles that come from having been in a washing machine are soon lost in their overall fluffy-ness. Right, so if one wears the skinnier kind a need might arise, but one knows that going into it. Keeping with the fluffy kind (which for some inexplicable reason are called 'harem pants') since they are not skin tight, they suffer much less body friction than a regular pair of jeans. No more awkward friction marks in-between your oh-so-unfortunately-muscular-thighs. Also, they are incredibly original and out of the norm, practically a cheap one-way ticket to hipsterdom. 

I mean, Originality called and wants its poster girl back.

And before you ask, no, this is not limited to only black people 

3. Variety

The options for prints are endless, from not so subtle political messages to animals (a personal favorite) to kaleidoscope-like things. My words somewhat fail to describe it, i'll just link some pictures.

Imagine making pants out of this cloth. Ohh the opinions people would have.

Sorry, couldn't find a hot enough beach, so the radiator will have to do. Imagination people.

4. Movement
You know when you are just chilling in you room and that one songs from your starred Spotify lists comes on off random? Well yeah, if you are wearing the highly limited limb garments of the West, you will be stuck just humming along. Get out of your jeans, put on some capulana pants, and the situation changes. Just take the necessary precautions so that nobody actually sees you. While these pants make you feel like you can dance, let's be real here, they are not magic, you will still look dumb. Of course I am going to link some perfect Capulana Pants songs, you need not ask twice.

To think of it, any old summer song will do, spoofed up or no. Anyhow, I think those right there are some pretty valid reasons for wearing capulana pants. And to loosely quote the immortal Reverend Brown, "if loving capulana pants is wrong, I don't wanna be right."

Peace, all.

Coming to Terms

Time to end the little hiatus and deliver some more posts. It has been a revealing couple of months lately, with a lot of change, with the majority being positive. From skiing to rectal exams, I have got to experience a whole lot of new things, so I'll share the best bits down below.

3rd Year Baby!
Alright, so I've come to that point in my medical studies where I can for a brief moment peek my head up above the books for a second and get to experience some "real" doctor work. Every Wednesday we have a 4 hour shift of Internal Medicine here at the regional hospital in the Endocrinology Ward. So it is a whole lot of old people with diabetes and hyperthyroidism and what not, but it makes a good change from only reading about it. It is here, however, that the language barrier becomes more evident, as there is no chance that a 60 year old Polish woman is going to know any English. It becomes necessary to use a translator when taking patient history and that does hinder a little the patient-doctor relationship. However, using the little Polish I do know combined with a friendly translator gets the job done. Guess it will be up to me to learn some more. 

My attractive classmates getting ready for some Internal Medicine

Rectal Exams

All you men out there know, that there comes a time in all of our lives, when we have to live with the fact that another man has stuck his index finger up our anus, and into the rectum. Rest assured my fellows, you are in good hands. Using the hospital dummies (as in the dolls, not the patients in the psychiatric ward) we practiced proper technique and what to feel for in regards to prostate tumors. Now these dummies felt very life-like (I am guessing) so it was definitively a bit scarring, but as the Americans say:

Peter displaying proper technique

Skiing

As most of my readers know, I am Swedish. Born in Jönköping and raised in the metropolitan hub that is Hagafors, deep in the Småland Woods. Being Swedish, one really should know how to ski, but that is one thing that evaded me as I grew up. Granted, moving to Mozambique at the age of 11 didn't help things. In any case, this was a wrong I was most adamant to correct, and thus I jumped at the chance when my good friend Nicklas asked if I was up for some skiing around New Years. We packed the car and drove up to Sälen, a Ski resort in the Swedish mountains, locally known as fjällen. It took me a little while to learn, but after a couple falls and mishaps I got the hang of it, and managed to ride some of the steeper slopes. Exhilarating would be an understatement, knowing that at any given moment you could crash and crack all your bones has a certain magnificent feel about. Keeping this up, it is just a question of time until I become an action junkie. Also, the stunning scenery at the top of the mountain added that extra little bit of magic.

Furthest North I have been in Sweden, and this place is only half-way up the country.

So 2014 is up next, and from the little I can tell of it so far, it is set to be a pretty decent year. Time will tell!

Oh, and in other news: A Swede at Arsenal!

Medicine in Mozambique: In the Hall of the Mountain Queen

Back from the last week of my medical clerkship, which I spent in and around the town of Gurue. Here in the southern most part of the Rift Valley I got to encounter a new culture, the Lomwe, and marvel at a magnificent nature. Far from the flat coastal grasslands, the area around Gurue is mountainous and filled with rivers and forests. The area is still quite isolated and the remoteness and wilderness does add to the overall charm. From a medical perspective, however, the isolation bodes ill for those who get ill and find themselves several hours from the nearest health posts. It has been a privilege to be able to travel out to this area to learn firsthand about the way medical treatment can be given in remote settings. It has been interesting to see how the balance between emergent care and sustainable development is met, and the different struggles a "jungle doctor" is met with.

The view from the backyard at the house where I stayed. Decent.

Panorama of the hills outside Gurue.

This beautiful panorama shot is taken behind one of the clinics we helped do consults for. Unfortunately, the clinic is overseen by an old man who fancies himself a nurse, without any real training. The doctor I was shadowing made it a priority to try to give this old man some proper medical knowledge, but unfortunately only so much sticks with a stubborn old man. Meanwhile, his clinic was filled with medical kits charitably given by aid organizations such as UNICEF. A common thread in my medical clerkship was seeing the need for sustainable development within the Mozambican health sector, rather than quick fixes. Here is a perfect example, UNICEF and the thousand of people who donated money are surely thinking "great, we have been able to send X amounts of medical kits to remote clinics in Mozambique, changing the world!". Unfortunately, sustainable development is never that easy, it requires time and patience, and ambitious locals willing to learn and bring their country forward; along with the proper supplies. Tragically, it is quite difficult to meet these requirements at once, and thus remote medicine can often be a frustrating balance of scant resources. 

Idyllic Eucalyptus-lined road up into the remote hills.

A makeshift clinic deep in the hills. In fact, this place is so "exotic" that they have their very own queen, who we were honored guests of. Maybe not quite as pompous as Elizabeth II, but I can with full truth state that I have checked the blood pressure of a proper Queen. From the exotic to the horrifying, in this little clinic in the hills a mother came to us with her two small children. Twins they were, but one wouldn't have guessed it. See the thing was, this so-called-mother had only been breastfeeding one of the twins, and had left the other one to fend for himself. The result was one healthy 3-year old, and one scrawly creature that made the Darfur children look fortunate. That is not an exaggeration. I will not show the picture due to patient privacy, but it is one of the scariest thing I have seen. One wonders how a mother can be that cruel, to starve one's own child.... Shudders. 

"Where There is no Electricity"

Invinha, a more proper health post, with proper being a very relative term in this context.

Mualacala, a magnificently named village with stunning views. When we arrived in the morning the nurse on station had just the previous night delivered a baby. No midwife at the clinic, and the nurse just fresh out of nursing school, I say that is quite an achievement. In Mozambique the need for educated nurses and health staff is so great that fresh out of school this young nurse had been sent off to work on his own. A measure more of dire need than efficient planning. The doctor I was working with makes it a priority to teach the local nurses and further their medical knowledge. Yet another step in trying to make health care more sustainable in Mozambique. 

Picture taken out the window of an old Portuguese Tea factory. Keeping with the golden word sustainability, this factory is now used by the doctors who fly out here to educate a group of so called activists. These activists are taught about basic health, malaria, bilharzia, HIV  etc. They then go home to their respective villages and teach the population at home about these things. Might seem like a small thing, but preventative medicine and education could be the difference between life and death in millions of cases.

After a week out in Gurue it was time to fly home again. This young lady flew us quite a bit of the way as well! Not everyone who can say they have been piloted by a 13-something year old, and survived!

After a couple weeks out and about in the African bush my medical clerkship comes to an end. I have learned a lot over these past weeks, and have gotten a deeper understanding of what medicine in the remote really entails. I know this knowledge will serve as ambition and inspiration as I continue my education in Poland this autumn. Not making any promises, but this may not be the last time that I jump into a little Cessna and head off into the wilderness. Vamos ver, vamos ver...

Medicine in Mozambique: Obstetrics and Gynecology

Yet another week in my medical clerkship here in Mozambique, and this time I was in the little town of Chiure. Not too far from Pemba this place, just a 2hr drive or so. What is interesting with Chiure is that although it may only have 2 paved roads, it is quite a populous place. In fact, the district of Chiure happens to be the most populous in the Cabo Delgado province. Thus Chiure hospital sees quite the number of patients, all coming in from the surrounding towns and villages. Also, alternatively, some medical teams go out to the health posts on the country side and provide care more locally. I did a bit of both this week, working in the hospital and going out to the remote health posts. My hosts for the week were a lovely British/Brazilian family in which the mother was the OB/GYN I was working with for the majority of the week.

There is a real need for proper maternal health care in Mozambique, since a lot of women in this part of the world still die from pregnancy related problems. Such things like regular ante-natal checkups that one is used to in the developed world simply are not that common in northern Mozambique. The result is that problems that could be avoided early on in pregnancy are left undetected and can eventually become life-threatening. Thus the work within maternal health care in Mozambique involves both solving the grave cases that do occur, and also working on preventing them by getting mothers to do regular check ups. It is a interesting field of medicine to be sure, and I have been glad to have experienced it for this week. Now for some pictures!

On the road to Katapua, a remote health post.

Katapua Health Post

Doing Consults with Patients in Katapua

Getting ready for surgery in Chiure. Lots of C-sections (including twins) some hysterectomies, sterilizations and one case of a unicornuate uterus. Also a quite tragic case of a woman with a massive placental abrubtion, yet another example of how early intervention can be the difference between life and death.

An interesting week and lots of new things seen and learned. Next week I fly off to Gurue, (of drinking water fame) the more mountainous region of Mozambique not far from Malawi. Look out for a post on that at the end the coming week. Till then, cheers.

Medicine in Mozambique: A Flying Start

As many of you know, last summer I did my medical clerkship in Olsztyn. It was an experience filled with russian toilets, electrocution and random crazy patients. This time around, I am in the jungles of Mozambique, a rather stark contrast to the Polish wilderness. Just last week I was in the small town of Topuito, which, although remote, is the location of the world's largest titanium ore mine. Using the mine as a base, we would drive out into the surrounding villages each day to provide medical care to people who sorely need it. Thought I'd share some of my experience. Right, let's start from the beginning.

 The first part of the journey was flying from Pemba to Nampula, a 40 min journey which easily trumps the alternative 6hr drive there. A small Cessna plane, courtesy of the MAF, then took the medical team from Nampula to Topuito. The medical team being me the medical student, the Dutch doctor I was shadowing, a Dutch nurse and a Portuguese dentist. That was my very first time in such a small plane, and after the 45 min in the air I was both amazed and slightly nauseous. It really is the real deal as far as aviation is concerned, but the ride can be rather bumpy from time to time.

The little Cessna plane.

The Doc and I getting ready for take-off.

View from the plane.

Getting out into the surrounding villages was different from day to day. Sometimes it was a drive of various lengths in the Land Rover, other times it would involve crossing a river in a boat powered by a man with a bamboo stick. Upon arrival, we would each set up our stations and see the patients one by one. People came with various problems, ranging from complaints of headaches to faces filled with massive boils.

During the days I learned the details of proper history taking, i.e. how to ask a patient what their problem is. I also learned a bit of auscultation, and how to do chest and abdominal exams. To me it really feels like the core of primary medicine, being able to hear and feel what is wrong with a patient. It is a skill I think I will need to practice quite a bit over the years. One thing that I would do on a regular basis was to give HIV tests to patients we suspected had the virus. The region we worked in has been hard hit by the virus, and more than once we had to give the bad news to patients. Some would break down and cry, but the majority would just shrug it off as just bad news. One wonders if they have a superior way to cope with their struggles, or don't fully understand the implications of the disease.

At the clinic in Topuito

The clinic in Topuito, just a short drive from the mining complex where we stayed, is a newly built medical center. It has a maternity ward and a wing for the general consults. In maternity we did quite a few ultrasound checks on ladies with complaints of abdominal pain, as well as some pregnancy check ups. The morning consults were usually dominated by kids with fungal infections, HIV patients, and patients suffering from hypertension.

Strained selfie at Topuito clinic.

Clinic in Briganha

The clinic in Briganha was about an hours drive away from the mine, so pretty much smack in the middle of nowhere. Here the nurse turned ambulance driver as a critically ill lady had to be rushed to the nearest proper hospital, which was about another hour and away on a poor excuse for a road. Good thing we had Land Rover. Here there were quite a few exotic disease, including elephantiasis due to lymphatic filiarisis (caused by the wuchereria bancrofti, for my fellow Parasitology survivors) more intense fungal infections, eyes destroyed by bacterial infections, and many weird skin conditions. Of course you had your usual HIV and hypertension patients here as well.

Clinic in Larde

Larde was a special place. It was quite a big town, giving the circumstances, but we had to use a boat to get there. Once the boat had crossed the river, the medical equipment was carried by a couple bikes and mopeds to the clinic itself. In fact, I believe train and hot air balloon were the sole modes of transportation not used on this trip, all in all.
                                     

Crossing the Larde river.

Medical Supplies in "safe" hands.

The boats likewise safe.

Much learned from this first week, and I have really grown to appreciate the need for medical care in the remote reaches of Mozambique. Next week I'm off to Chiure, which is a medium sized town not to far from Pemba, to continue my medical clerkship at the hospital there. Will try to write up something about it next week. Until then.

New House and New Adventures

A decade ago my family packed our bags and moved from Sweden to go to Mozambique, to work as missionaries. Swapping snow for sand, we left our little house on the country side and moved to the capital of Mozambique. Since then, we have moved to the less developed part of the country, to the northernmost provincial capital: Pemba. When we first came we lived in an old Portuguese house in town, which at that time was vital if one wanted to have somewhat regular water and electricity. Four years on, we moved from that house to a little bamboo house on the outskirts of town; a place which when we first came had been nothing but bush. Times change, and with increased inhabitants in Pemba, the cost to rent increases steadily. Therefore, almost exactly 10 years after we left our house in Sweden, we laid the first stone of our very own house in Pemba.

Friends and family gathered for the ceremony, to lay the building of the new house in the hands of the Lord. Land ownership and building in Mozambique is very much a hurdle race, with lots of obstacles that need to be overcome, so the fact that we could start building was a big reason for praise.

The corner stone ceremony for the new house quite fittingly took place on the 17th birthday of my little sister.  To further celebrate this occasion, at the end of the week we indulged in one of Pemba's many treats: snorkeling. To make it a bit more special, we got together with some other snorkel enthusiasts, hired a boat and a captain, and set sail for the far side of the bay. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the geography of Pemba, it is located on a peninsula that juts out to create a massive inland bay. In other words, make a G-shape with your left hand, Pemba is the thumb, where we snorkeled is inside your index finger. We saw quite a bit of fish and corral, and it was overall a very enjoyable experience.

Lots to do then, all with the house building and summer clerkship and a bit of this and that going on. Looks like my summer, quite unlike Arsenal's, will be quite busy. Looking forward to seeing how they both will develop.

Location: Pemba

I have now been in Mozambique for about a week and I am enjoying the cool winter we are having currently; A casual 25-26 degrees instead of the usual 34-35, so it’s quite pleasant. I have obviously been down to the beach a number of times, both to snorkel and also just to laze in the sun. The Mozambican sun has treated me well, and I am now several shades darker than I was when I first arrived. Speaking of change, the little town of Pemba that I grew up in has since changed quite a bit, while at the same time stayed exactly the same. I am feeling this has tended to be a reoccurring theme during my return to Africa, perhaps there is something in that.

Having been away for 2 years and 3 months, when that sorry excuse for a commercial airplane landed in Pemba I was both relieved and excited. Pemba had started to change right before I left, with big oil and gas findings bringing in established companies from all over the world. Hotels were being bought up on long year leases to house workers, massive ships started coming to the humble harbor, in short little Pemba was getting noticed by the world. A result of this change was the lack of an airport as I landed; instead a temporary party tent had been raised to accommodate travellers.  The old airport was in the process of being torn down to be replaced by a bigger and better one, all due to the increase in visitors.

The population change in Pemba that these new faces brought was quite evident on the drive home.

 So. Many.White.People.

Just a couple of years back, my family knew all the foreigners in Pemba. It was quite easy seeing that they were all either missionaries like us, entrepreneurial South Africans who frequented the same restaurants as us, or Indians and Chinese that owned the shops we bought from. All very simple. Not now though, they were so many on that single drive I think I lost count, and yes, I was actually trying to count. Many new people and cultures all attracted by the prospect of gas and oil wealth. I was always one for the international scene though, so I am definitively not complaining. I just hope most of the potential riches eventually trickle down to the locals, nobody wants to become like Nigeria when it comes to oil wealth and corruption.

It is fair to say that Pemba is on the brink of something big, and one can just hope that the poison that is corruption and greed is kept at a minimum. However, much is still the same. Internet as fast as a crippled tortoise, no water supply from the city (we have to hoist it from our 18m deep well) and still no raspberry jam in the shops. It is tough, but one takes the good with the bad.

In the coming weeks I’ll be starting my medical clerkship, so that ought to be fun and interesting. I’ll try to get something compiled on that when I get started. Now to hoist that water…

Coming to Africa

Many of you might have noticed that I am indeed in Africa at the moment and that I am most pleased to be back here. It is even more beautiful than I dared to remember, they do say longing makes the heart grow fonder. I have been up to quite a bit, about time I’d share some of my adventures with the world.

On my way down from Warsaw to Nairobi, I made a little 12hr stop in the UAE. Since I was spending half a day at the airport, I thought it a shame if I didn't have a quick look around to see what this Dubai fuss was all about. I saw the Burj al Arab and the Burj Khalifa, both very cool structures, and did a bit of general sightseeing from the window of the cab on the way. The thing that struck me about Dubai is how much it resembled a lunar space station, with everything located indoors and air-conditioned to escape the horrifying heat (I mean, they even do their skiing indoors). Even the train stations looked like something positively out of Star Trek.

With that experience at my back it was time to head to more familiar venues. Just as midnight Dubai had been surprisingly hot, so midday Nairobi was peculiarly cold, and it only got worse as I headed up to good old Kijabe. Although the weather was cool and the oxygen very scarce (the school is located 2200m above sea level), it was good to be back to Rift Valley Academy. My first couple of days back I thought the place had changed so much, everything seemed different than it had been when I had left, all but the caf food of course. Although there had been a bit of change, as the days went on, I realized RVA was pretty much still the same, the change was rather with me. The musical talent on show at concert still held high class, the awkward clapping between every silent moment still there, the science pond’s ecosystem continuously ravaged by intruders, the scarfing just as uncomfortably brutal as ever etc. RVA the place hadn't changed, but RVA the people had. No wonder then, as the days went by and the alumni poured in, that RVA started to feel more and more familiar. My RVA was back, having flown in from all corners of the world.

The following couple of days were filled with catching up with old friends and seeing how each person had adapted to becoming a college person. Plenty of stories and laughter were shared, with a couple new great memories being made in the process. The greatest new memory that all of us who had made it back got to share was undoubtedly witnessing the marriage of two of our classmates. The two high school sweethearts had chosen a lovely location for their special day, and it couldn't have suited their personalities better. Under a grand African tree, with the wildebeest, zebras and giraffes grazing in the distance, and the birds hunting for fish in the lake behind us, the beautiful barefoot couple took their vows.  The after party was held at a charming bungalow by the lake, where we were treated to entertainment as varied as Masai wedding blessings and German folk music. In honour of RVA and its rules, after the feast we all paired up and danced around the newlyweds, as un-choreographed and freely as we possibly might, there was even room for some Azonto! As the sun began to set over the lake, it was time to send our newly married classmates of to their honeymoon. With rice still in their hair and a smile from ear to ear, they drove off into their future atop a white Land Rover, proper MK style.

I've had a wonderful time coming back to Kenya and getting to see so many of my old friends and getting witness a wedding as charming as any I've seen. My time in Kenya draws to a close, but my stay in Africa continues, as I board the plane to Mozambique on Wednesday, having not been back there for more than two years. Looking forward to seeing my parents, snorkeling in the ocean, and realizing how much Portuguese I have forgotten!

Passing Over and About

This holiday I have been at a number of different places, experiencing a number of different things. From family feasts to hysterical expats, here is a short review of my past week.

Easter itself I spent with my grandmother and my uncle and aunt and their two little kids. With my parents and siblings currently in Africa it is good to have relatives that are only a days travel away. It also being my grandmother's birthday it was a perfect time to head up and celebrate it all together. Always nice to catch up on Swedish happenings and vocab and eat well with my uncle and aunt, and listen to old missionary tales from my grandmother. Of course it was lovely to see two of my smallest cousins as well. The amount of energy that can be kept within two little human creatures is indeed amazing, and there was never a dull moment with them in the mix. Reminded me a bit of how it was back in the day taking care of my two younger siblings, except that my siblings were about twice as crazy and wild when they were that age, which made things much easier this time around. Still love you guys, I learned loads of patience from you two Jennifer and Joel  =)

Cousin bonding time

Flying back to Warsaw after my time in Sweden I bumped into a fellow classmate taking the same route, and we were both just as taken back by the snow chaos that welcomed us in Poland. One should never experience more snow on the destination than the origin when flying out of Sweden of all places. It is April now, mind, enough of this snow already! 

Making my way through a snowy Warsaw I arrived at my B&B to find it closed and all the lights switched off. Marvelous. Fortunately this is the capital of Poland, and not Bethlehem, so there was lodging for a weary traveler elsewhere (perhaps wrong season for that reference). 

In the morning I went to the embassy of Sweden to pick up my new passport. It is not that grand of a place as one might imagine. It is very Swedish though, I'll give it that, reminded me of the old church house (missionshuset) in my little village of Hagafors, at least on the inside, maybe not so much on the outside. 

Hagafors Missionshus

As I was waiting for them to get my passport ready, an elderly man stepped in, and started conversing with the receptionist. What caught my attention was that he spoke his English with a distinct South African accent, but was still reasonably fluent in both Swedish and Polish. Naturally this multi-ethnicity was bound to have a great story behind it, and being the curious person that I am I was meaning to ask him about it. Good thing I didn't, because what happened next was something I've never witnessed before. He was struggling with the forms, not getting anywhere. He started getting really annoyed at the receptionist as well, and made a lot of noise. I was still sitting there at the back, feeling very uneasy at having to witness this increasingly awkward situation. His frustration eventually turned into a full blown nervous breakdown and the old gentleman almost started weeping and was very distraught. There is nothing quite as socially awkward as a grown man crying and making a scene about having to fill out forms, nothing at all. Eventually he managed to collect himself and settle down, and everybody could continue on with their now slightly scarred lives. In the end, he came back and apologized to the lady, explaining he was suffering from some sort of memory loss which made filling out such forms quite the ordeal. All I could think of was I wish I had some sort of disease that would delete that particular recent memory. Perhaps a distasteful thought given he might actually have been telling the truth. As such, his potentially exciting background story was replaced with a rather unwanted experience. 

Oh well, I guess one can't always win.

Cheerio.

21 Questions

Today it is my birthday. It has been 21 years since I came screaming into the world, clearly unhappy about the fact that I from now on had to actually use my lungs. Many a thing has happened since then, both good and bad, and all served to teach me something about life. So I decide to quickly scribble up a list of 21 random little things I have learned this far. I think everyone can relate to at least a handful of them.

*Football, not diplomatic skills, is the key to Universal Peace and Understanding

*The need to study is the single greatest motivator to do just about anything else
*At RVA, how to eat enough on Tuesday lunch to last until Asian Friday.
*That supporting Arsenal builds more patience than watching grass grow.

*Be careful who you trust, most of all taxi drivers.
*The amount of sugar in chai and mandazi is an amount better not known

*Work hard, then play hard
*Sleeping and pooping are two necessary evils. Imagine how much time we spend on that!
*Swedish pizza and Swedish candy are undoubtedly the best in the world in their respective categories.

*Juggling may be as hard as it seems, shame the same can't be said about eggs.
*Frosting is hopelessly overrated.
*When making the Swedish chocolate ball, expect the fact that they were formerly and more colloquially known as "nigger balls" to be brought up. Never fails.

*It is not always the biggest mango that makes the most noise when it plummet onto the tin roof.
*It is indeed possible to use a new pen all the way until it dries out without losing it first. Med school taught me this.
*If loving the Lord is wrong, I don't wanna be right.

*When an opportunity arises to make a cheeky racist joke, take it. Use the black card if anyone gets annoyingly offended.
*If someone asks you what the capital of Thailand is, don't answer. Ever.
*The question, "Where are you from?" is not the problem, it is the amount of lying you have to do to avoid having to tell your entire life story. MK Problems.
*Talking to oneself is considered weird by some people, luckily my ego/insanity is big enough that I find it most enjoyable.
*If ever in an awkward situation, just start laughing at how funny you must seem. It works.

*If it is easy, it either has been done before, or it is not really worth it.