Well – the highway was grid locked – so despite not having to arrive at the University until 10.00am which is well after rush hour – I sweated myself into a stupor behind trucks on the road – panicking that I may be late. Every driver here seems to have innate “road rage”. (Me – I am getting the hang of it also & found myself hanging out of the window making dubious hand signals & shouting, “What’s your problem dude – move it”). But I made it only 15 minutes late despite the hold ups.
Charlotte greeted me – made me coffee & introduced me to my schedule for the week. (Which is varied & interesting – though a little daunting as it seems I have to find my way to various places alone). I met with two other lectures on the nurse training course & discovered that the entire nurse training programme is integrated. That is general & mental health. It is a 4 year course with either very minimal or no learning disability placements & no lectures on the speciality. The head of school met with me & was very pleasant – very grateful & very keen to do something about the lack of specialist teaching on the programme. (So keen that she has or so it feels – invited the world & their wife to my seminar on Saturday – agghhh!!)
After lunch in the student refectory Charlotte explained about her PHD research which focuses on the Zulu community in the local townships & families experiences of caring for someone with mental health problems. First she wanted to call into the local hospital – meet with the sister on the psychiatric wing & then wanted to visit the townships to take photographs for her presentation. Before we left we stopped to collect Mama Priscilla. What a woman. Perhaps late 70’s – has worked as a qualified nurse all her life & now although retired - she does agency work, He husband & three adult sons all have psychosis. She is the only earner in the household & oozes smiles like no one I have ever met before. She greeted me with such enthusiasm & thanked me so much for being interested enough to spend time with her. “My pleasure Mama”, I said ( And I meant it).
The psychiatric hospital was shocking. I only went to the outpatients department. A wide room with church like pews & perhaps 15 “patients”. All of whom had either just seen the doctor & were waiting to be admitted or who were waiting the see the doctor & if the look of desperation on their relatives faces was a yard stick – an admission would have been a God send. These were disturbed people – most of them men & the noise was intense. Yet only one nurse on duty who seemed to be quite unfazed by the potential situations she may have to manage. I had a crafty peep around through the Perspex divide that separated outpatients form the wards. My God – it was like going back in time a million years. People in various states of undress – very disturbed – noisy – primal & I couldn’t see any staff. And there in the corner was a room with a sign saying “SECLUSION ROOM”. Perhaps I am just too “fluffy” & I understand that from time to time – people need to be isolated for safety reasons – but perhaps “Quiet room” would have been less threatening to these people? It would have to me?
We left after 20 minutes. Me – Charlotte & Mama headed out into the town Umlazi – deep into the townships. Charlotte mission was to take pictures – she stopped at the side of the road – she pulled up onto hillsides – she hopped out of her car on street corners & at the railway station & took snaps of the poverty – snaps of groups of folk hanging around – snaps of the beautiful valley below. I too took some photos – though I felt a little (or quite a lot actually) uneasy. I didn’t want to be voyeuristic – nor did I want to put myself in a risky position - yet knew that it was important to capture theses images. It was very edgy – I felt uneasy & was so glad that Mama – our local Zulu speaking old woman was there is help if needed. We stopped at a petrol station in quite a rural area – which had a small takeaway hut. With the searing heat we went in for a drink. Now this entire joint sold only cold drinks – crisps & a few dodgy looking pasties – but gets this? The counter area was completely cordoned off with iron railings. The pervious level of anxiety rocketed – the guys from the repair shop were hanging out of the hut looking at me as though I had landed form Mars & I wanted to make a hasty retreat. That must have been the longest 10 minutes of my life & I was glad to get away. Was I at risk? I don’t know & certainly Mama was a guardian angel – but this is an edge place & I certainly would not have wanted to stop there alone.
What an experience though & a day I will never forget. I understand that there are some very good private psychiatric hospital & clinics – but this one was a government facility & perhaps the saddest & most poignant moment of all was this?
We took Mama home. She had proudly told me that she lived in T section – a nice part of the township. Strange that in the towns like this - there are no street names – only “sections”. I think perhaps the lack of Pine Villas or Valley Avenue would have made it feel less like a ghetto & more like a place where real people live?
Picture this – the hospital gates – heavily guarded. Dozens of minibus taxis tout for business on the periphery. Sick people sit lost by the verge. Staff smoke & chat. As we leave – the security guard asks to check the boot of the car. Confused I ask Charlotte why – after all she has a pass? It seems that staff vehicles are regularly checked for stolen items. Just as I thought I had seen it all – I looked to my right & there not 20 yards from the main gates of the hospital was a run down shack of a building with a sign saying – BHEKISIZWE – FUNERAL SERVICES.
What more can I say?
No comments:
Post a Comment