Matata Hospital

Oyugis, the nearest town to us, is an interesting place in the evening. At about six o’clock this evening I had to do an ‘ambulance run’ to Oyugis in our Landrover to take one of our older girls to the Matata hospital. She was in a lot of pain, having developed a very sudden and very severe stomach ache. The public health system in Kenya isn’t brilliant so we took her to the best local private hospital. Fortunately I haven’t had to do too many emergency trips to hospital this year which means that the children have stayed remarkably healthy. The downside of this is that I forgot the minor details of having a patient admitted to even a half decent private hospital.

Janet, one of our staff is staying at the hospital with our patient tonight. This means that she will need some cash to pay for supper, and some bottled water. While Madam Nyangwe, our head teacher and Janet stayed to re-assure the patient as she was admitted on the ward I hot footed it into Oyugis to buy the necessary items and get some change. Being the only white person in town has now lost its novelty for me but small children still obviously haven’t got over seeing a Mzungu, (European). Walking past the alley ways and shop fronts I still attract a chorus of “Mzungu” and “How are you?” from the younger children in town.

Early evening is a very busy time in Oyugis. Tonight was even busier than usual as Friday is the main market day in Oyugis. The piki piki, (motor bike), taxis work overtime on Fridays and you have to keep your wits about you to avoid getting run over. Walking into the centre of town I passed numerous examples of the entrepreneurial spirit that is alive and well in Kenya. Little stalls selling tiny, (but therefore affordable), amounts of food. Ladies frying chips in big pans that look like Chinese woks over a charcoal fire by the side of the road. Tiny shops advertising mobile phone time at a shilling a minute. Coffins in a variety of ‘finishes’ for sale in busy woodwork shops. ‘Mechanics’ hunkered down fixing motor bike wheels and stripping down engines in makeshift workshops by the dried mud pavement. There’s a plethora of smells as well. The acrid smell of burning rubber and oil from a roadside fire stirred occasionally by a small boy. Piles of cedar posts. The smell of chips and car fumes and latrines. As the evening becomes darker the people become more like silhouettes and the flame of the fire seem to lick up higher and more fiercely. The town has a very vibrant feel to it.

Having finished my shopping I return to the hospital where our young patient is in a little less pain – probably because she has thrown up by the side of the bed. “We will have to buy a bowl”, says Madam Nyangwe. “You will get one just outside for about seventy shillings.” Just outside turns into another walk into town which is now definitely darker but no less busy. Most of the piki pikis have got their lights on now and can’t sneak up behind me as easily. While in town I think I’d better buy some toilet rolls to take back to the hospital. At least I haven’t had to buy all of the drugs required by our patient as well. The Matata hospital has a very civilised approach to billing for our neck of the woods. We won’t have to pay for everything in advance.

As the evening wears on our patient and attendant are set for the night and Madam Nyangwe and I mount up in the trusty green ‘ambulance’ and head for home. This is a slightly tricky manoeuvre initially, as the hospital entrance is lined with wooden scaffolding which I have to reverse through to get out of the hospital gates. The entrance is an archway and I have about an inch of clearance either side of the Landrover. We eventually escape and head off through town and then up the bumpy road to our place. I still enjoy the challenge of driving the bumpy road in the dark. Tonight a fairly constant stream of piki piki riders ply their trade. Pedestrians and bicycles without lights  loom up suddenly out of the dark and I am nearly side swiped by a lorry coming from the opposite direction which suddenly advertises it’s presence as a wide vehicle at the last minute by putting its headlights on. As we drive in through our gate Madam Nyangwe tells me that Janet has called to say that our patient is sleeping. She will, hopefully, be ready to come home at a civilised time by Sunday.