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January 9, 2021Mzee Musa
My neighbor Musa was the first to befriend me here in the village of Mbungoni. He is the Village Elder, lives across the dirt road from me and sells borehole water to all those in the area. Residents line up with their 20 liter plastic jerricans to fill them from the taps for all their needs. These are sold for 2.5 shillings each or 2 ½ cents. This is his source of income so you can imagine being a husband and father of three how challenging it is for him to survive. Being the Elder he is also responsible for solving every little dispute in the village. If there is a complaint, they are brought to him. Many nights I am awaken by the noise from those coming to disturb him at 3 am. But he does this joyfully and peacefully.
Musa is 64 years of age and has lived quite an interesting life, his stories of working on ships for over 20 years throughout the Gulf countries and Europe are those of a buccaneer “Sowing his African Oats”. Much of his mariner work involved illegally smuggling weapons from one government to another. Perhaps this is why he is a fearless man who will go to any extent to keep this village from corruption.
From Musa’s stomach protrudes a softball size supra umbilical hernia which developed over 25 years ago. He has handled preparing for the treatment of this just as he has for his children’s education. Like most Kenyan families the children become 18-19 years old and are ready for college and the father suddenly realizes he now needs to find the money to send them. There is no concept of looking to the future. I have gotten frustrated with him and say, well it is not like you have not had many years to prepare for this, you just don’t suddenly wake up one day and say, OH!
It is easy for me to judge, but I have not had to walk in the shoes of poverty my entire life as he has. I know I have made some of the poor choices as he has in my younger years and I as well was never taught about saving until I learned it in my 30’s. But the opportunities were much different for me in the US than here. Discrimination and corruption are beyond my imagination, and this is how one becomes employed and even then, it will cost plenty financially to buy a job.
Musa’s hernia has become painful the past couple months and we finally convinced him to seek a doctor. He needed to have surgery, visited several doctors until he found one and a small private hospital. He was comfortable with. Most people have to go to a government hospital because they ae much cheaper, but they are also afraid because of the extremely poor care. I accompanied one of my students in an emergency room situation to nearby government hospital one night, and while we were there, three people died next to him.
Musa procrastinated having the surgery for over one month, always finding an excuse. I found him outside my gate on Monday afternoon, December 21. I asked him if he knew more about the surgery and he replied, let people enjoy Christmas and I will see the doctor on Saturday the day after Christmas. I told him to call the doctor and see if he could give you a date, so he did and the doctor said come Wednesday morning prepared for the surgery. He actually seemed somehow relieved. The next day he shared the news with his wife and oldest son.
Wednesday morning Musa and I were transported by a tuktuk and arrived at 9 am to Alfarooq Hospital located off the beaten path in downtown Mombasa. Interesting place to say the least. We registered then waited two hours for them to notify the doctor. Then to a small room for all the routine health checks and portal inserted. There was suddenly a lot of noise and congestion just outside the window and into our small room came a lady wheeled in on a gurney. I looked down and her face was covered with foam, I slid out quickly and not far behind came Musa. Police and others gathered outside with the lady’s twelve-year-old son. They were driving over a nearby causeway where she lost control of the vehicle and slid into the Indian Ocean. The boy was not fastened with a seat belt and was saved by a by a bystander who jumped into the sea, but the vehicle sank with the mother fastened inside. There were no tears nor emotions exhibited, which is the norm for Kenyans. This could be why so many suffer from ulcers.
Next, we climbed two flights of stairs to the ward where we got his room, there we waited until 3 pm before they told him to come to the theatre. Musa’s youngest son Sule arrived so, I decided to come home because behind him were his brother Rama and his wife Mamapia. His surgery finished about 5:40 pm.
He is to be released on Christmas Day where I will send a taxi to bring him home. Today I poached a chicken and will be making homemade chicken and noodles for the family after he returns.
The quote from the doctor was 80,000 shillings, about $800 US. Then the hospital fees and I will guess it the total will be about $1200. How can a man with a family, selling water ever afford this? The reality is he cannot, and this is just another reason why so many people die here. Payment has to be made before any treatment begins.
So, again, I thank all my donors who allow such work to be done. God Bless you and Merry Christmas!
