I am promised a bed in the examination room of the infirmary (it has 2 rooms and an office) which boasts a mosquito net.
As I talk to Madame about everything under the sun she tells me they see a lot of cases of malaria there and also AIDs and respiratory problems. The current inmate is a very ill lady and her husband is sleeping there as is her friend, since they come from a village 8 kms away. I ask him who is minding his farm patch while he is away and he explains that they don’t sow until the rains which are expected any day so it’s OK. He is old and weatherbeaten and I am shocked to learn he is 42, reflection of the hard life here.
Everywhere is decline: they used to grow coffee but the mill has gone; the cooperative opposite has closed; and the infirmary used to have world bank funding but no longer has. The village has no electricity and although there is a shiny new fridge for vaccines, there is no money for fuel to run a generator,
Then the mechanic arrived:
He used a sensible approach to the problem but his meter was ‘up country ‘ so by the time we had narrowed it down to the absence of current to the block by the RHS of the tank he then drew a blank. A brief moment when the pump came to life suggests it is OK and it’s the power supply to it that is problematic.
During this process he had lots of adult helpers and advisers whom he admirably and sensibly ignored!
So then we were stuck. I paid him for his time and made him a filter coffee (brought from Addis by me) which he enjoyed, unlike the others I had offered coffee too - they found it way too bitter
️.
He went in his way and it was time for me to reflect. I had limited local money, no phone or internet there and it no electricity.
So I decided to accept the hospitality of the infirmary - there was little choice anyway as there was virtually no passing traffic.
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