Gagayo

The previous day ended with me negotiating with the lodge operator over the price for our extension night. We were not really happy with what we got for the price we paid, and several advertised amenities were not delivered, such as towels or warm water. But we were in a pretty desolate area, so didn't have much choice. I ultimately got him to agree to a rate of 40 USD for the extension night, though he was really guilt-tripping me into feeling super bad afterwards for ever approaching him. Oh well, I've got a thick skin, so I didn't let his comments get too close to me.

Anne had had an annoying headache for a few days now that never really went away, and after we left camp this morning nausea was added to the mix as well. Before we could really think about our next steps, our car got pulled over by a military patrol. They stopped us, told us to get a man they shoved into our car to the closest hospital some 20km away, and sent us off. We just barely managed to check if he is going in for something contagious or not (he wasn't), then we were off. I guess that's another role of the military patrols everywhere 😉 There is a different level of authority between a hitchhiker with a pained expression in his face versus someone in uniform with a big rifle.

The guy didn't say much during the trip, and after we dropped him off we continued on our own way, Anne did some more research into her symptoms. It turned out that there was a large overlap with malaria, and the incubation period from our Namibia camping adventure (where she got bitten very often) until now aligned with malaria as well. So, change of plans. Instead of aiming to make it to a good spot and spend the day working from there, we rerouted to the next hospital to get her tested for malaria.

I had made some experiences with rural hospitals previously in Guatemala, and I knew we were in for an interesting experience. Anne got all her documents ready and in we went to get her tested for malaria. While we were waiting for the reception to see us, a big list on the wall caught my eye. It was a pricing list for every single service the hospital offered. The most expensive thing was a knee replacement, priced at 60 USD. At least if I managed to decipher the French correctly. The most macabre thing I spotted was the cremation service, priced at 35 USD per cubic meter. One of the receptionists then took it upon herself to guide us through the entire hospital process, and the first thing we had to do was to pay 10 USD for the VIP service. We weren't really sure what that meant, but it appeared as if we skipped all the queues. It did make us feel a bit bad, but we weren't really given a choice. Pay this, present that document, come here.

She was then seen by a doctor and had her blood taken - through poking her vein with a needle and then waiting for gravity to do it's thing! No syringe, no vacuum vessels, just letting it drip into a dish. First time I had ever seen it done like that. Then we were told it would take four hours for the results to come in, and our next challenge was how to spend the time until then. We were in a little village at the southern shore of Lake Kivu, and even though the hospital was pretty large (they even had two ambulances), we couldn't find a single restaurant to sit down at to get some work done. We also couldn't find any lodge nearby, but there was an unrated guesthouse not too far away.Read more