Malaria and A-fib

Crtd 06-04-29 Lastedit 15-10-27

Malaria and A-fib
Rather Wet Neck Again
It Pleases The GOOD LORD To Haunt The Commander With Diseases. The Advent Of Philemon

Jinja Week 5

Tuesday 06/04/25
Morning. Malaria. I am very weak. I take "artimeter" pills immediately. But no improvement until 13:00. In the canoe, I paddle, neither Ben nor Jonathan feel competent to do it. By taxi to the local clinic that treated me last time. Nobody at the reception. I walk along the windows outside. Rooms full of people behind archaic type writers in well tempered conversation.
Can somebody help me? I am ill.
Nobody volunteers. Conversation continues.
I go back in and let the white tiles echo: "I am very ill can somebody help me?!!!!!!!"
Nobody.
I try another building.
A doctor.
I fall on his bed and tell him I have malaria but my pills seem no match to it.
This doctor is a good Samaritan though he surely takes his time to be so: he does not ask me to go to the lab for the blood parasite count, but takes my sample where I am lying and brings it to the lab himself. Result: serious.
"They surely like you".
He recommends to continue my artimeter pills and add a quinine drip. But the clinic will be closing before the end of the drip. I cannot stay there. What can we do, he asks.
I propose to put me on the drip in a 2 Friends Guest House room and I shall pull the needle off my vein when the drip is done.
So we did.
Free health care. Don't know who is paying 20 typewriter conversators and 1 doctor.
Jonathan is making the kitchen, Ben is finalizing the 12 V system.
For the night I stay hospitalized in 2 Friends

Wednesday 06/04/26
At breakfast in 2 Friends Ben reports by phone: only few leaks in the night's rain storm. My mood goes up distinctively. I call my captain Philemon in Mwanza, Tanzania. He is ready to be my next boat mate - after Ben has gone - and will come Saturday. At 16:00 I go back to the boat.

Thursday 06/04/27
Before daylight both bow anchors get stuck under the rear of the boat, hence start effectively to act as rear anchors. Small waves down under the transom make the noise you would not want to hear in your last sleep. I correct it. The rear anchor drags because its line had looped through one of its hooks.
A historical sunrise: first breakfast from our own kitchen, eggs and coffee.
We buy new drinks and water from town, and I get very tired again. No way out: with Bf 5 South in the canoe back to the boat. Just to be sure, back to town for another blood count, a few hours later. To my surprise, it shows zero parasites. Apparently, the fatigue is just caused by the body being ravaged. I am advised simply to finish my artimeter and doxycycline (an antibiotic).
Two days earlier, I had received an SMS from my personal ISO security officer Kasim, whom I mailed he was very welcome. This email had not reached him because the address given in the SMS was not a real email address. Now he called me again, wanted to pay a visit with his boss.
Very welcome, very welcome.
What can you say? With my sensational Tanzania government officers' misbehaviour fresh in mind, it gets on my nerves, but of course this may just be a harmless ritual dance. Nevertheless, I plan to ask when I can expect they're done and whether I will have the honour to get some kind of clearance document.
Ben teaches me the intricacies of the LEIP (Local Electro Ironical Panel), now ready. Nevertheless there still are electro jobs to do

for sensors to switch flashlights on and off we need two relays. In Uganda? No way.

the flashlight supports are still to be designed and made

We need 12V TL under the steering deck and rear deck

The 12 V tubes are still dangling without fixation

Friday 06/04/28
Ben leaves. Since Philemon is not yet around, I cannot join Ben to the airport. Goodbye is at the taxi in the harbour village. When I canoe him to that village, we realize he boarded over the special 2" plank we bought especially for the occasion at the day we went off shore, and had been on the dhow continuously for 11 days up to this moment of departure.
I decide to "grey" BPP problem 7e ("electric wiring"), despite some leftovers, so the latest look of the BPP is: [L:1234567abcdefghi - T:1234]. Things work. The 230 V fridge uses a disappointing 1 Amp. To get it, the converter has to take a stunning 20 Amp from the 12 V battery. No match for the four sun panels. Cooling has to be relegated for special cases, on the generator, if I do not want to cover my entire deck with expensive and delicate sun panels. The four I have, however, do charge all batteries of machines, the laptop computer and all 12 V TL lights, maintaining the ship's battery full. Even now, in the rain season. I will need a small additional panel directly charging a small pump "irrigating" the deck through a long tube with little holes to reduce shrinking by heat and under deck cabin heat.
The cheapest flight to Ben's Southern Turkish mountain house is over Amsterdam, where, to add to the absurdity, my fellow Dutch political refugee will witness "Queens Day" through the glass of his Dutch arrival and departure gates. He planned to buy some cheese.
Philemon would arrive today, but no news.

Saturday 06/04/29
If your total deck surface is 66.6 m2 and you have a modest tropical rainstorm dropping only 20mm of rain, you catch 1332 liter or 88.8 buckets. A quarter bucket dripping left and right through your ceiling is enough for the "everything wet" feeling. That is 0.3%. But very depressing. You have no home, because your caulking succeeded "only" for 99.7%. Now consider only two dripping leaks left! That is half a liter or: 0.04%. Still a bit annoying. You do not want that. You succeeded "only" for 99.96%. Finally: think of some wet ceiling spots after rain. That is half a cup, 0.02% of the rainfall. Makes you clearly feel you should do something. You want a dry house. You succeeded "only" for 99.98%. Most of us indeed live under a 100.000000% dry roof. Not me. I am still in the quarter bucket phase (99.7%). And my rain storm this night in my lonely sleep was 40 mm, that is 2664 litres or 177.6 buckets of water on my deck.
Marking leak spots was undoable. Again, it had been leaking "everywhere". I put BPP problem 7a, optimistically "greyed", back in BLACK: [L:1234567abcdefghi - T:1234]. Fresh desperation.
I decide just to continue with my efforts to make order in the mess. All things got completely mixed in the two weeks the dhow was waiting for clearing in Mwanza: friends hid valuables in boxes with clothes and kitchenware. Suspecting that, Daniel had opened all boxes again to see where my friends had hidden my valuables. The neatest illustration of the result: I had one single plastic bag to hold my 50 odd plastic clothes pegs. Those pegs appeared out of virtually all boxes all over the dhow. Such is the result of African negro treatment of your belongings as soon as you lift your heels. The stealing is of a depressing level of intelligence: they steal gadgets and forget essential parts of them so the booty cannot be used and has no market value. Some gadgets even would have no value if they would have stolen the whole thing, manual included (the autopilot for instance). They risk jail by stealing things they do not know, do not know the value of, and that will lie rusting somewhere within a month (details). Honest people are around but too few to counter the prevailing African negro looting instinct. The final blow was dealt by the greedy and very rough search of Mr. Malima's Tanzania lake police officers, everything once more torn apart. But they had come too late to the feast and thus opted for simply demanding the owner to come and pay a ransom. Most of my stuff had been wet five times or more. I had kept 4% of the books I originally sported on my Netherlands' home book shelves. These now had dried up in the most curious shapes. An unread complicated French book of mathematical meteorology had become like a solid stone and almost killed a pelican when it touched the bay's water surface. But of course: a relief to be freed from the tough agenda item of studying it.
No Philemon yet. I am alone on the dhow. In the late afternoon, it is time for a rest with coffee and eggs.
My heart goes in atrium fibrillation. Nothing special. It happens to me once a year on average. It usually redresses in a few days by stepping up the dose of beta blocker normally used in small quantity to stay regular. But after being forced off those pills in my ban from Tanzania I had decided to try and do without them. Wrong? That is hard to say. My heart rhythm can also get off when I faithfully use the prescribed small dose. I had some a-fibs before that I thought associated with a simultaneous malaria (or the quinine use - I learned this time in email correspondence with my doctor that quinine can cause heart irregularities).
Anyway, rest and relax are the only things when you wait for a heart rhythm redress. The LORD cannot be denied a sense of humour: I am alone, the coast is only reachable by canoe peddling, not recommended in this condition. I consider my stock of food and water. Then I decide to prove my mettle to my SHEPHERD: since smoking is out of the question under "a-fib", I take my last cigar, a present sent by Dutch friends, a beauty, a Romeo Y Julieta, With an irregularly beating heart, the body drowned in SOTALOL (beta blocker), hence unable to produce the adrenaline for further desperation, I enjoy the lovely evening.

Sunday 06/04/30
Morning Saa Moja: Philemon calls. He is at the harbour village next to the dhow. Fortunately, there is no wind when, with still blossoming a-fib, I mount my canoe to collect him. My Captain Philemon! (When he is on the ship, a retreat in my role of "commander"). Philemon known by the serious Greetings reader to be able to:

Make sails

Make masts and gaffs

Caulk (in all styles, Arab, Tanzanian and western

Painting boats

Canoeing (I was the only one in the time with Ben and carpenter Jonathan)

Anchoring (I was the only one in the time with Ben and carpenter Jonathan)

Cooking

Cleaning

Maintaining storage order (not so Ben and Jonathan)

Killing pythons with bare hands (one day later he would discover a young 30 cm monitor lizard in the dhow - harmless, but they can reach 1.5 m)

All of this he will be ready to do two months for euro 140, with which he considers himself rich and lucky. For the time being I keep it that way. As a result of damage and theft resulting from the sensational misbehaviour of Tanzania Immigration officers I now paid the dhow almost twice. That amount, euro 20 000 will certainly strike western readers as less than peanuts. It indeed is negligible compared to the extortion by a team of legal vultures supporting my last wife in the divorce procedure (see "kicking out my wife"). But this damage caused by Tanzania government, little as it relatively is, firmly overcharges my budget and it remains to be seen whether in the resulting balance I reach my pension age of 65 without despicably having to sail bloody tourists around.
Jonathan finishes his work on the kitchen. We reinforce some bad spots in the deck support frames.

Monday 06/05/01
Atrium fibrillation Day 2. We erect the steering deck tent of 3 by 3 m, scored in a Kampala supermarket. It fits miraculously well over the steering deck and immediately raises our shady well being to the retired professor level.

Photo: taken in North East direction from my canoe, the new steering deck tent mounted, background: Jinja Sailing Club (closed), far right: canoe ferry village (see: map).

Philemon sets himself to dedicated caulking. He fills all little holes left in the deck planks by nails used in plank fitting (definitive mounting of the planks has been done with copper screws, but not in the same holes). This is done by hammering in wood splinters. 70 per m2.

Photo: Philemon Filling Bloody Fitting Nail Holes With Wood Splinters

My entire stereo has been stolen, but Philemon has managed to save the ROLAND amplifier of my electric piano. Since I used most of the time in which I was waiting for Daniel to stop doing nothing (see "Drying A Yard") by recording my vinyl, cassettes and CD's in mp3, that was enough to create MUSIC on board today! Even radio and TV is played over the ROLAND amplifier, received by computer through wireless internet.

Jinja Week 6

Tuesday 06/05/02
A-fib day 3. Time to think of the back up: a TAMBOCOR drip in the hospital. I prepare for hospital treatment in the International Hospital Kampala. I know the place from hearsay only. I phone. The cardiologist is only around on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I get her number. I tell her what is my normal routine: step up SOTALOL, if on day 3 no redress to normal rhythm: drip TAMBOCOR (flecainide) 160 mg (above normal due to my 100 kg weight). She tells me to stop SOTALOL, because the hospital will use a a drip of CORDARON - incompatible with SOTALOL - 300 mg in 200 ml normal saline, then CORDARON pills 200 mg 2xday. I arrive at the International Hospital Kampala at 14:00. The CORDORAN drip is started at 16:45. After the drip there is no effect. I am told this drug works slower. It is not really the best drug, they know, but the Ugandan government has a ban on TAMBOCOR.
Since Uganda does not pay a dime on its patients' drugs, and any sensible Ugandan patient with money is willing to pay cost, import duty and corruption bonus to have the proper drug for a condition, I have no idea whose interest Uganda health officers are representing, unless every drug producer has to come and pay the Uganda medical officer on "duty" to obtain access to the Uganda drugs market, and the TAMBOCOR producer, contrary to the CORDARON producer, has been sensible enough to refuse. CORDARON seems to redress a-fib more or less as a side effect, and with a delay. Result: I have to hire a hospital bed for the night.

Wednesday 06/05/03
No redress at a doctor's inspection 10:00 hrs. But at 11:06 the a-fib yields. I report it to the nurses. The cardiologist is expected at 13:00. When at 16:30 I still do not see a cardiologist or any other doctor and second hospital night threatens, I pack and saunter relaxed, eyes forward, off the hospital compound, hire a bodobodo to the bus park, eat at dark in a Jinja Main St. restaurant, report at 2 Friends restaurant that my worries are over, and am canoed to the dhow by Philemon. I am allowed some more times of pleasure on this earth. Thanks LORD...please find Yourself others for Your jokes for a while, and if you still get bored, ask me what to do, I know some really useful jobs for You on this earth. An Almighty like you could do miracles here!

Thursday 06/05/04
Jonathan makes a big store plank high port. Philemon caulks. I sort things.

Friday 06/05/05
It is now one month after I charged an agent with clearing my ship (trace back story on surfboard: Customs. I call my clearing agent. There is progress: customs Jinja has declared itself not in charge. This is for the Ministry of Works and the Ministry of Internal Affairs. My clearing agent has his people now sitting in waiting rooms in these ministries. I am told to wait.
Jonathan prepared for a huge store plank starboard and a very long table/desk against the board.
Philemon caulks.
I remove my things from starboard to make space for Jonathan and continue the struggle for order.

Saturday 06/05/06
Jonathan's brother marries in Kampala. Philemon will join. There was no consultation of me for that decision. I resign. Philemon has never seen Kampala. It is just that I am too late to consider the food stock for tomorrow. If you are alone you cannot leave the boat for shopping. Never thought of that while planning to build one and live on it... but the harbour village can feed me while I watch my dhow.
A free day. I found the camera charger! (BPP problem 5). New pictures and video's can be inserted. The new state of the BPP [L:1234567abcdefghi - T:1234].
My fax of 19/4 to Jinja Sailing Club owner, the richest Indian (hence riches man) of Uganda, Madhvani, remains unanswered. I guess I am not on his property, and he has decided to stay silent. No news good news, and anyway, I strongly consider to move to the place in the green oval left on the Mooring Site Map, which is the background of the West view picture, once construction and the town shopping for construction is over: No noisy hotel generators, village video halls, and Sailing Club Party Hazard there. I call it the German Bight (West view zoom) because moving South to North through the green oval, you have King Fisher resort of Hans-Martin, Gaby, also German, married to Patrick, a Ugandan, living in the beautiful reed thatched house left of the banda seen on the West view zoom, and finally Klaus, another German, an artist, bar owner, using his house, the white one right of the banda on the West view zoom incidentally as a restaurant, personally acting as - good - cook. I should be able to find parking for my truck and motor cycle there. It remains to explore the local lake bottom there.

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