Yesterday I had a video call with two close friends living in the US. It was lunch time for me and early morning for them. Both were in bed with their little girl, McKayla, squeezed in between them. I’ve not seen them in 3D for over a year, but we chat often (despite the cruel time difference). McKayla pulled a variety of expressive faces for the camera, letting me see each of her new tooth gaps and her transformed smile. I got to hear the prices in USD the tooth mouse pays over there and who her new best friend is. (Despite a very exotic name like Aponi, she turned out to be a little blonde friend, and not an exotic First-nation-original as I hoped she’d be).
The conversation changed and we discussed how different it really is to live over there and how they miss the “realness” of our SAffers. Everyone is so similar in the US – where they are anyway – and so afraid to not be neatly boxed under a label… so terribly vanilla.
We ended the call and I went to join my team for lunch. We are many things, but vanilla is not one of them. A new edition to the team is Excellent. He is a new carer, and I enjoy the fact that one of the other people who interviewed for the position was named Peculiar. (That all happened while Hilarious was fixing our kitchen cupboards! You really cannot make this stuff up). The staff were eating KFC-style fried chicken, pap and cabbage. I got tuna salad and Ryvita biscuits and little sympathy from the staff. In fact, Olida jokingly said that she’s lucky she still has a few decades before menopausal weight gain comes for her too. Our French carer Eddie however, sat with us, but did not eat anything. He fasts during daylight hours from September to December. Dylan and I suspect that the money he saved on food will be generously thithed to the Congolese pastor to extend his mansion yet again. Eddie disagrees when we ask about it, and says he will pray for our cynical souls.
While we were eating, Aisha arrived, wearing a hijab covered in bright pink proteas. She is an amazing physio and was there to see an extremely difficult patient. I can’t use the patient’s real name, so let’s call her Satan’s wife. This patient has had three knee surgeries, and with each surgery, her hatred for the medical world seems to increase. She also hates exercise and believes physios are out to hurt her. Olida gave Aisha a big hug and we could all see she was procrastinating and psyching herself up for the appointment, as spending one on one time with Satan’s wife was the last thing she wanted to do. I offered to go in with her as emotional and moral support, seeing as Allah won’t even allow her a tequila. Aisha laughed. She never gets offended when we tease her about her religion. In fact, she acts surprised every time she sees me because I wear shoes. (For those who didn’t know, Afrikaners went to school barefoot and other cultures often make fun of us for being not quite as civilized as them).
Throughout the day I was acutely aware of how NOT vanilla we are at the lodges, and probably in South Africa in general. As Aisha was leaving, Dr Ted arrived. He is almost 7ft, has a booming voice and is a brilliant palliative care physician. He is also as camp as a row of tents and has been happily married to Stephen for 25 years. None of us actually care who he loves. He is a wonderful, compassionate human and I rejoice that we can live in a country where Dr Ted can be celebrated for being totally himself.
Another reminder of our full array of non-vanilla ice cream flavours became apparent when I went to check on room 21. We have had a neuro patient there for 8 months. When Elsie arrived, she had a nasogastric tube to feed her, and the only body parts she could control were her scared, frantic eyes. Next week she will be going home to her farm in northern Zambia. It has been a grueling journey to recovery, and I am in awe of her courage and determination. I try and spend as much time with her as possible, as I’m going to miss her terribly. When I went into her room yesterday, her speech therapist, Zynie, was helping her eat. This was our last challenge before she could go home. Elsie had to learn to eat and swallow on her own. Zynie, who is Hindu, was coaxing her patiently through each bite of beef fillet. To Zynie, cows are sacred, but here she was feeding one to Elsie. The irony is not lost on us, but neither is the beauty of this moment. There was so much grace in the room, such a profound bond in sisterhood that surpasses religion, race, language and culture.
And so the day went on. I met with a Chinese immigrant about the chemo care of her brother. A Scottish mom dropped off our funrun T-shirts that she sponsored. I asked Dr Jodi to tell me all about what she ate at a Rosh Hashanah dinner the night before. I organized ARV’s for a cleaner because foreign nationals are no longer able to get these from SA clinics after USAID was withdrawn. I apologized to the Mozambiquan car guard at the Woolies because I could not tip him. He said I’d get him next time, and was quite happy with the apple I offered him instead. Before going home, I quickly popped in to see two beautiful Ethiopian women here for cancer treatment and a Ghanian ortho-patient who is a tribal chief’s wife and bequeaths us all with brightly coloured fabrics every time she comes here for check-ups.
When I look back on an average day here, it is filled with chaos, deep connection, kindness, oddities, acts of compassion, quirks, courage, setbacks and triumphs. I love the mixed masala of accents, beliefs and stories and I marvel at how it somehow all fits together, in a beautiful kind of messiness, despite all the differences. Life is richer when we embrace what divides us with respect and humour. Everyone wins when we are not vanilla and we get to see a the full spectrum of flavours, tastes and colours.