The Day-to-Day

It wasn’t what I intended.

I don’t have a good excuse for why I haven’t written about what I actually do day-to-day, and I think it’s partially because I feel a little guilty about it. I’ve reread some of the old posts and there is such a build-up about hearing the stories that count, that the reality of what I’m actually doing is really menial.

I wanted this deep, meaningful experience while I’m here. I wanted to connect with the faces that are never seen… but in reality I sit in an office eight hours a day editing photos of corporate events and launches for new literacy campaigns sponsored by this or that government official. It’s all very political.

Today my boss left early, so I’m sitting here typing on my laptop, looking out the window at the way the sunlight reflects off the buildings in downtown Johannesburg. Spring is finally here and I don’t have to wear my jacket in the office or cuddle my legs up to a space heater.

Am I spoiled if I say that I am not satisfied? Yes, I know that literacy—especially in monther-tongue (African) languages is incredibly important. But what about AIDS? What about poverty? Maybe I am suffering from the grass is always greener, but if I spend every day for the next five months in this office… I feel like I will have failed every person who is reading this blog.

I gave a proposal today to my boss, asking her if I could do an internet piece about some of the teachers, or the trainers, and the difficulties they are facing with the country’s youth. She mentioned going to Alexandra (one of the oldest townships that is in very rough condition, the autobiography Kaffir Boy is based on one man’s experience there) and I only hope that I can spend enough time there to grasp what I’ve been looking for.

In other news…

I’ve been sick for over a week now and I’m really getting tired of the gravelly voice, running noise, cough, neon mucus—I won’t go on. You get the idea.

Last Thursday I was feeling particularly light-headed and my boss Patience (great name, she’s like my mother here) insisted that I go to the doctor. Needless to say I resisted. I couldn’t imagine how complicated a doctor visit would be, transferring insurance information country to country, getting any medical records the doctor might need. It seemed like such a hassle that I only went with her down the street for formality’s sake.

We walked in to a small office in Braafontein Centre, which is so crazy and busy sometimes I get a headache just walking outside. Think New York: non-stop honking, taxis almost hitting you, pushing through crowds even on the sidewalk, it’s hectic.

The tiny office was nothing impressive. Two doors into separate rooms and a receptionist desk in the middle. Over one door it read DENTIST over the other, DOCTOR. Patience arranged an appointment for me around 2pm. We left. 

I came back and was treated by a short Indian woman who asked me several times if I had had an AIDS test. I reassured her. She rambled off some other typical doctor questions and I’m still surprised she never asked me if I smoked (seeing as I clearly had a respiratory problem). Then it was typical blood pressure test, temperature reading etc. Diagnosis: Sinus Infection. I could have probably told her that, as I has been googling the symptoms earlier that day. She said if it didn’t get better I would have to be tested for swine flu. Get excited. Yes, it’s hit South Africa too.

She wrote me a list of prescriptions, only half of which I ended up getting (perhaps why I’m still sick four days later) and told me the total for the visit was R150.

I gawked at her.

Number one: I had forgotten to bring money, so I blushed and I asked to call my boss. Phil came and delivered it quickly.

Number two: R150 is less than $20. That’s less than $20 for someone (me) who showed no proof of health insurance, no documentation as to her identity…nothing.

I’m trying not to be biased as I’m writing this. You can take with it what you will. Perhaps you think it’s terrible that no background check was done. Or maybe you think that healthcare should be this easily accessible to anyone who is feeling ill—no matter what their background.

Socialized healthcare is not without its issues. This was still a private office that I went to, and I think it may have been the office that everyone in my organization uses. But nevertheless, for less than $20 I was diagnosed and given the tools to make myself better.