Thursday, 7 November 2013

The Multinational Raving Peacekeeping Unit

Work is getting tedious as I spend time in the office with no windows, transferring data onto the online system, writing Chairman’s CV and try to develop an internal flow of communications strategy.

The only eventful thing that happened last week at work was that I was taken for lunch by a colleague. It’s an eatery that’s really popular with FR staff and looks like a small canteen inside. I took one of the only available menus on offer: okra soup. Not a massive fan of okra anyway because of its somewhat gloopy consistency, the challenge was intensified with the addition of cow stomach stew. It was OK when I started off when I was hungry, some rich spices compensated for the jelly strings and I ignored the crunchy bits in the meat, but gradually it became an ordeal as I dipped the banku in the sauce and tried to grab at the spicy soup with my hands. Colleagues were looking at me with interest, and so gagging was not an option. I tried to let the fact I was eating fermented food with cow insides wash over me and contemplated how we are cultured into only eating certain things.

I quite enjoyed giving Isaac an olive from the foreign food shop in the car the other day. After a few minutes I turned to him and saw the majority of the olive was still outside his mouth and he’d only tenderly chewed on a mere corner of it. Chicken gizzards and offal are so popular here that they’re actually imported to Ghana from Europe. Nana says that he likes Tilapia head so much he could almost leave the fish body.

Still experiencing the acidy feeling in my throat and after sleeping about 13 hours one night, I went to the pharmacist to ask about changing the anti-malaria medicine. I explained the effects of the doxycycline and she suggested I take one Mefloquine tablet to test if it was any better. She assured me it would start working straight away and it wasn’t a problem to mix the two drugs.

Over the week a rash came; it started on my left leg and spread to my arms. It wasn’t worryingly purple or anything, but my skin was irritated. Then came a pain in my chest just under my left rib. I rushed to a different pharmacy to read the Mefloquine instructions and saw that indeed it was a side-effect. The pharmacist assured me it wasn’t a problem to just return to the first medicine (the doxycycline).

Everything was relatively under control. Friday night came along and with it Halloween in Accra. Not generally celebrated here, the expat community gathered for a party at an American’s house. It was a multinational raving peacekeeping unit on the roof; people from all over were united by one substance that has lubricated such affairs for centuries: alcohol.  I quite soon realised the situation required one to stay relatively sober and not to stand too close to the edge. New partygoers would arrive, take in the scene above them, take a picture and then start up the ladder. It was a relatively good outcome overall as only one person fell off the roof in the night and ended up in hospital.

No comments:

Post a Comment