Malaria

Let me tell you about malaria. It's a bastard (pardon my french Granny and Grandad).
I thought i had suffered headaches before now but those were just petty, sappy love-taps from a baby compared to these mosquito-induced bad boys. I felt like i had one of those industrial-sized elastic bands fitted snugly round my brain and every so often like some sadistic, adavistic torture it was pulled back for the inevitable snap onto my cranium. My skin felt like wet leather and to touch it was to evoke the sensation of peeling yourself unstuck from a block of ice. My eyes felt like foreign bodies in my skull, begging to be scratched from their ocular prisons. My tongue felt like a squatter-slug unnatuarally dry within my mouth. And the fever was hotter than Douala in the daytime. And to top it all off i had typhoid too, which made my digestive system march to a sick, sardonic beat with the toilet being my metronome master.

To tell you the truth i didn't get it half as bad as Meredith, but she's from Texas, the land of George Dubya, so she's tough - like a cowboy.

Before you travel to a malaria hot-zones you must seek medical advice on which anti-malarial prophylactic to take. Although none of them are 100% effective, doxycyclin has failed me personally, and if it were to stand up in court, i would sue them (oops, that's some bitterness creeping in there). There are other preventive measures you can take against contracting malaria. Don't wear bright colours as mosquitos are attracted to them. Cover as much skin as possible (impossible actually, it's far to hot for that). I choose to douse myself in insect repellent (apparently not that effective either). I have screens on my windows and i sleep under a mosquito net, so indoors i think i'm safe, it's outside where the danger lies (or should i say flies?).

The terrible terrorists love the puddles that sporadically decorate the road. The brown, mirky water is perfect for the blood-thirsty bleeders to breed. They attack at dusk or dawn like tiny vampires and you don't feel a sting or a thing till after (wow i'm bitter right now, i've noticed when i'm angry and i write, i use a lot of alliteration and rhyming for effect) There are deadly strains of the disease here in Cameroon, which if left untreated can be fatal, the sad thing is not everyone can afford the medicine.

Dr Njemba, the volunteers doctor, has been my saviour, she really has. As i write this on Sunday afternoon i'm feeling a lot better than i was. I've had two infusion cocktails passed through my bloodstream and they had the jaundiced colour of urine, they made me look as sick as i was. They scared me too as i had never had one before, much to the amusement of Dr Njemba, she said she will never forget me, so many questions. She's prescribed all the relative drugs to kill the intruding parasites within me, and all in the comfort of my own room. Thanks doc.

When i've been tethered to my bed Meredith has brought me coca-cola and sympathy, Sofie has been bringing me my dinner and wee Cynthia has been fetching me bananas like i was an invalid. So it's not all doom and gloom being sick (note to self, try and end on a positive note).