There's always a first time for everything

I kept putting off blogging because I didn’t feel like I had anything vaguely interesting or intelligent to say. But looking back the past month, there have been several “firsts”.

How to cremate a pig

We said goodbye to a faithful, four-legged friend, Hoover the pig, a few weeks ago. She had been a regular visitor to our garden for a few months now. At first I would chase her away, as I thought she would nibble on the vegetables that I was trying to grow. Then one day, LS remarked that she might be able to clean up the place, by eating up the jambus that litter the garden. I named the pig Hoover, after her ability to clean up the fruity mess in our garden.*

As time passed, Hoover became more and more comfortable with us. We began to feed her leftovers. Because of the constant supply of food, Hoover started spending more and more time in our garden.

Towards the end, she was like a puppy. She ate off our hands, slept next to the porch, and generally kept us company. It became a daily ritual to scan the garden and look out for her familiar silhouette.

One night, she walked in as usual, through one of the holes in our gate. She looked very sick, and for the first time ever, refused to eat the rice that we set before her. She stumbled to the back of the house and collapsed. We watched, alarmed. She got up a few times, moved unsteadily to other positions and then laid down. As it turned out, that was the last time we saw her alive.

For the next two days, she was nowhere to be found. We wondered where she was, and if she was still alive. Then one afternoon, I saw the familiar outline of her body at the far corner of the garden. I was overjoyed. But in a split second the joy turned to shock. Three chickens were pecking at her eyes. I knew then that Hoover had died.

We eventually decided to cremate her. But how? In the end we bought 11 litres of kerosene and set fire to her, to the sound of Christmas songs from our neighbour’s stereo. Overhead, rain clouds were gathering. It was a very somber affair, and one which lasted almost four hours.

And now, time for a grim confession: We might have unwittingly killed Hoover by feeding her chicken bones. Gulp. At least that’s what someone suggested. Cooked chicken bones can splinter inside the animal’s stomach and cause problems. But we will never know. Pigs here eat everything, and anything they can find, including faeces, no kidding. You would think that their digestive system can take on just about everything.

*Our neighbour’s jambu tree overhangs into our garden. We used to harvest the fruit and eat them – until some neighbourhood kid showed us how to identify jambus with worms inside. I could barely see the telltale signs. So that was the end of my jambu harvesting.

No more hunger pangs

I enjoy food. But for the past week I have had no appetite whatsoever, and haven’t felt any hunger pangs, all thanks to a nasty parasite in my small intestines.

The little monster caused me to be afflicted with the worst diarrhea in my life. On the really bad days, I passed watery stools for up to 6 times in one morning. Taking the wrong medication stopped the runs, but only put a lid on the problem. My system became horribly blocked up, and I think that probably caused a fever.

I knew I was losing too much water and nutrients, but didn’t know what to do. Drinking lots of water only made me get up to go to the toilet, which further interrupted my rest. We spoke to a doctor friend briefly, who diagnosed the problem as being caused by the parasite. He gave us the name of an antibiotic to get. I was hopeful that it would end my suffering.

But getting it proved difficult. The two pharmacies we went to didn’t stock the medicine. By then I was sweating profusely, and losing yet more water. In desperation we went to the National Hospital and saw a doctor. She said that the diarrhea had caused me to be anemic. Not surprisingly, because for a whole week I had no desire to eat, and was consuming a third of what I normally ate.

That was a few days ago. Today, after two full days of taking the medicine, I feel much better. For the first time in more than a week, I began to feel hungry. I think I ate five small meals today – quite an achievement.

I’ve also personally experienced the pain of not having access to medication. It is a frustrating thing, to hold in your hand the name of the drug you desperately need, and yet not be able to find it. So many people in the third world experience it on a daily basis. We’ve all read or heard at some point, how access to simple medication can make the difference between life and death. In a very small way, I now understand this statement a little better.

So there, two interesting “firsts”, over the past one month.

PS: In this world of six-degrees-of-separation, word spreads. Please don't tell my mom I've been sick!