Elisabeth Hesse’s Blog

2-2-09: Call me Ishmael

My run of boring days in PNG has come to an abrupt end.

After a somewhat rocky start this morning, I headed over to ward
rounds a bit late (I apparently didn’t miss anything), and was only
there for a few minutes before Sarah, the hospital matron, found us
and told us that a whale had washed up to shore down at the coast,
and the villagers were requesting a doctor.  We really weren’t clear
why they would need a doctor for such a problem, but I was keen to
get out of Kikori and see more of the Gulf, so I quickly
volunteered.  I gathered up everything I would need and then…
nothing.  Went back to the wards, finished rounds, and headed up to
my house around 12:30.  As soon as I got home, one of the CHWs asked
if I was ready and said the dingy would be by to pick us up in a few
minutes.  So I quickly grabbed lunch (a cucumber and a peanut butter
sandwich I made earlier) and headed down.

The coast is about three hours away by dingy, and most of the trip
was fairly smooth sailing (so to speak).  At one point, we had to
stop to refuel, and a sudden downpour hit us then.  As we weren’t
moving, we were able to grab one of the tarps and hide under it.  The
rain had passed us by by the time we were underway again.

We got to the village with the whale (the whale wasn’t actually in
the village, just where they go to fish), and they directed us to the
whale, and sure enough, there was a dead, beached whale.  They
estimate it’s been dead for about two weeks, and based on the smell,
I’m inclined to agree with them.  If anyone ever asks you what the
most offense smell in the world is, decaying whale flesh has to be
near the top of that list.  Well, we didn’t do much except confirm
that there was a whale (check) and take pictures (check).  We brought
along a police sergeant with an M-16, because there was word that
there were crocodiles lurking around, but we didn’t see them, so
nobody got to shoot anything.  Then we headed back to the
village.  The reason they wanted a doctor is that they were concerned
about eating fish and crabs that were feeding on this dead and
decaying whale.  As I didn’t see any signs of toxic bacteria around
(no floating fish or dead birds or anything), I declared that as long
as they boil their crabs long enough and make sure their fish is
properly cooked (wise precautions in any case), they should be
okay.  And that was that.  I have done my public health duty of the day.

They broke out the food on the way back–biscuits (cookies) and
biscuits (hard-tack) (I don’t know how they distinguish the two when
talking, honestly), tinned corned beef, and lemon pop (like Sprite or
7-Up).  Well, now I know if I ever find myself in a cold battlefield
(or a dry desert–let’s be honest, that’s what we Americans are using
for battlefields these days) with nothing but the hard-tack from my
MRE and a tin of meat (which would probably be Spam, as it would be
American), I could bring myself to eat it.  And as I probably won’t
be in a dingy with ten other people, bouncing on the waves, it would
probably be easier to do.  It was a day for new experiences all around.