Boiling mango leaves with pinch of salt and more on medicine
i tried, i did. i dragged myself out of bed on day 4 of being bed-ridden in my lusaka bed-room, and attended a focus group meeting. I arrived sweating , and spent the day a veritable zombie presence. I won't go into the details, but i did come out of that day wiser in the ways of indigenous remedies, and conflicted about whether one should wallow in one's illness and let it do it's thing and pass through, or whether one should put up a brave face and pretend it isn't there, so as to not give it a chance to win the fight.
It was obvious that i wasn't my usual self, as people approached me not with 'hello' but with 'sorry sorry...' only to follow with a 'you will be fine, don't worry'.
By lunchtime, i felt like the only thing i could do was go back to bed - the sweating and shivering wasn't stopping, i was unsure when i walked if i would stay standing, my sight was blurry and my main contributions to the dialogue were loud and disturbing coughing fits. Junior however had no mercy - 'Saskia, you should just be yourself again, the way you usually are. Otherwise you let the illness win. Just get up, go eat some lunch, and don't look like anything is wrong'.
I felt scolded like a child, and a further mixtures of sentiments including shame for my weakness, self-pity, indulgence, i felt spoiled and childish and elements of many more things. Here I was, always in good health, a strong western-fed body, and as soon as i get sick, I fall down and writhe on the ground in self-pity. Surrounded by people that have grown up in much less luxurious, nutritious and health conducive environments than i have, and it seemed they simply hold their heads high and don't let the illness see that it is bothering you, otherwise it will overmaster you.
So i went and had a few spoonfulls of food. I couldn't manage more, I felt nauseous, but I looked at Junior and he nodded - this was good, good enough.
I sat through the remaining hours of the session until it was finished and then *really* wanted to go. Whomever I spoke to gave me their best recipes to feel better, the main two recurring ones were:
- Mango Leaves:
Boil the mango leaves (theres mango trees in every yard in lusaka) in a pan of water for 10 minutes and stir well. Add a pinch of salt. You will be cured in less than two days.
- Ginger, lemon and honey:
Boil the ginger root in water for 10 minutes, add fresh lemon juice and boil the peel with the rest of the mixture for another few minutes. Add some pure honey. One person was cured in one day only.
I went for the Ginger, Lemon and Honey. Cooked it all up in my hotel water cooker for tea..

That same evening my friend Gareth came to see me, brought a thermometer, fruit, juice and crackers, and was shocked, i really did look like a zombie. He wanted to take me to the clinic and i was avoiding it. It's just a bad flu, it will pass. We took my temperature - it was 39.4 celcius. We chatted a bit more, hung around, he called a doctor and family members, and made the decision for me. We are going to the clinic.
Pay 300,000 Zambian Kwacha and you have an expert consultation. How many can't just cough up 300,000 kwacha on the spot? The doctor on night duty, en elderly Indian chap, again scolded me... 'what? You have been having high fever for over 4 days and you still think that nothing is wrong?' he shook his head and similar sorts of sentiments as above swirled through me, triggered altogether differently. He did a malaria test - negative. He did more general check-ups, took my temperature again (102.something - i was momentarily shocked, until i realised it was a Fahrenheit thermometer) and didn't want to prescribe anything until blood and urine tests had been done, but they could only be done tomorrow morning when the lab was back open. For now, i had to go to the treatment room, have my blood taken, and take medication until my fever went down. They would not release me until my body had reacted to the medication, and I had come down off this high fever.
It took a while.
We noticed i was getting better when Gareth and I started fooling around and making movies about me in the hospital bed, 'Sas, what does it feel like to be hospitalised in a developing country with eboli virus?', it would have been a good movie if not for the unstoppable smiling and grinning that we couldn't hold back.
They took my temperature again, 35.8 celcius. What? What meds did you give me?!!? That's what it's like in a hospital in a developing country - faulty medical equipment.
finally at close to midnight they let me go.
Today, two days later again, is the first time i woke up without fever. I feel weak - I'm on antibiotics, I still sweat bucket loads at night, I switch between being restless and falling into deep deep sleep. But with all the possible side affects listed on the liner notes for the medicines, I am very thankful that it seems to be going the right way towards feeling better from here.
Insh'allah.