Night Orchestra and other sounds
Every night we collapse into bed, crawl under the mosquito nets and then check for the inevitable mozzie that has got in. Then we lie in the sticky tropical warmth listening to the night orchestra. It is quite the most exquisite orchestra, produced entirely from the throats of our local frogs. The arrangement is impressive and the acoustics and stereo phenomenal. The conductor must be a genius because his baton controls a myriad of perfectly co-ordinated sounds emanating from all corners of our garden. From behind the mango tree somewhere is a high pitched grating sound and then in time with this is a whistling frog near the pool. A delightful group of bass frogs produce a deep grumbling that provides depth to the performance and then somewhere near the braai area is another that seems to have a squeaky sort of cough that provides percussion. Then the crickets near the fence have a guest appearance and provide a jazzy smooth tempo to it all which gels the production. Music, apparently, is the food of love and frogs have this down to a fine art. The reason for their musical talent is to attract a mate but they are said to become so engrossed in their performance that frequently, even when she appears, are oblivious to her, ignoring her and croaking to their hearts content!
Then there’s the dawn chorus which seems to be getting earlier and earlier. It is getting light well before five now and so the birds have their own show which makes for a tranquil and soothing wake up call. The cockerels, however, are somewhat confused and seem to crow throughout the night and the golden glow off to the east, over the sea, is irrelevant to them. The birds in our garden are exquisite. Pied Kingfishers stand guard, hopefully, over our pool and fork-tailed Drongos swoop down and splash the water for a cooling dip. Hoopoes peck in the sandy soil under the mango trees and lilac breasted Rollers parade beautifully on the fence poles nearby. Various Sunbirds, Bee-eaters, swallows, Mynahs and even a Burchell’s Coucal are frequent visitors and pay our veggie patch a visit. A bizarre looking nest in a fork of the mango tree caught our attention and Zara was up there in minutes. Nestled in an ingenious nest, made up of all manner of debris including old rags, bits of plastic, rope and paper, were a pair of fluffy chicks which we later identified as Kurrichane Thrush. Their parents have a lovely orange beak and rich orange breast. They were gone one morning and we hoped they had had a successful flying lesson rather than demising in the massive downpours we are now having.
The rainy season has certainly started and I gaze in wonder out the window at the ferociousness of these South African thunderstorms. Take today for instance. It has been so hot that even the short walk up to the hospital was an effort and our pathetic air conditioner has made no headway in keeping our metal-box park-home cool. On leaving the hospital at four the sky was heavy and ominously black and soon fierce, forked lightning illuminated the blackness and bellowing thunder raged in reply. Then the rain fell. I don’t have a rain gauge but looking at our little pool it has filled to the brim, the track below the house is a river and our poor veggie patch is teetering surrounded by a torrent. The sandy soil sucks for all its worth but despite this we are inundated. I love the drama of it all; the excitement, the noise and then the tranquility and freshness when the storm has passed.
In the hospital life is punctuated by highs and lows, ups and downs. It is always devastating to walk onto the ward on a morning to find a gap where you didn’t expect one. My Cryptococcal meningitis man, who I first met at clinic and who seemed to be doing so well, and despite borderline renal function we nursed him through his 2 weeks of Amphotericin and it looked like he was going to make it. Then there was the chap with the bizarre rash and about 5 days of temperature above 40 at whom we through every antibiotic we had and he too seemed to turn the corner only to demise suddenly. Then there are the gaunt, wasted men with tight strained faces and staring eyes who have come in desperation but you, and they, know that it is futile and it is not long before you get the call from the ward sister that they “are late” or “are gasping”. They all, of course, have advanced AIDS in common, and daily walk the fine line between life and death straining a desperate immunity that has long demised.
My male surgical ward has the usual array of fascinating pathology. I noticed something sticking out of the leg wound of my young man who injured his lower leg playing football five years ago, and tugged on it. A shard of dead bone about 5cm long slipped easily out and iv antibiotics and wound care should now sort him out. Next to him a 15yo lad has a fractured humerus and tibia on the same side after falling off the back of a Bakkie. Mobilizing him is proving challenging! Another who had his appendix out at our referral hospital but his wound has become infected and dehisced. Antibiotics and careful wound care will see him well. The old Umkhulu (old man) next has been on the ward for over a month. He burnt his arm badly when a candle set bedclothes alight and we skin grafted him. Most of the graft has taken but bouts of confusion, infection and tired kidneys are making his course stormy. In the corner another Umkhulu has a large but reducible inguinal hernia which we hope to repair next week but he is more troubled by his chronic urethral strictures and dribbling urine. I plan to place a suprapubic catheter tomorrow. His neighbour is crippled by the local Mseleni Joint Disease which is a rapidly progressive osteoarthritis typified by its ability to affect relatively young people. He has had bilateral hip replacements and has subsequently had both removed and now walks on (virtually) fused hips. He was in for pain relief!
Old Gogo at Kosi Bay collecting reeds
With only 3or 4 months left here we are acutely aware of how precious our time here is and how much we still have to discover. Last week-end reminded us again of what a paradise we enjoy. Scuba diving at Sodwana on Saturday morning was special for the enormous Moray eel and then the biggest crayfish I’ve ever seen. Nudibranchs, Clown fish, and a massive shoal of ‘silver’ fish as well as stunning coral, made it another memorable dive at what is reputed to be a Top-10 in the world dive site. A leisurely brunch at a local cafĂ© and then a bush walk, while the girls enjoyed a birthday party, made it a good bonding day for Ilda and me! A large Black Mamba in our path did little to dampen our enthusiasm! Camping that night was put on hold thanks to one of those lovely storms and we set off on Sunday for Lala Neck and a stunning adventure up the coast. We followed a sandy track under avenues of thick sub-tropical bush for miles and every now and again were spat out onto sublime coast, really golden beaches without a print in sight, and aqua-blue ocean. Swimming, basking in the sun and mucking about in the sand as well as some snorkeling made for one of those dream excursions hinted at in holiday brochures. We arrived home well after dark and the four of us were barely able to enjoy a light supper before collapsing blissfully into bed.