Sunday, February 6, 2011

Baucau OW!


This past weekend I went on a shopping trip to Baucau, the second largest city in East Timor. I was desperately in need of some “retail therapy.” I didn’t know I would end up needing a different kind therapy by the end of the trip!

Baucau is just an hour away by mikrolet. This was my first trip alone on the mikrolet, but I didn’t mind. I’ve been here more than four months, so I was confident getting there and back would not be a problem. The ride to Baucau was quite pleasant. There were only 8 people in the back of the bus and NO animals, so it was spacious and familial. An older lady kindly passed around the homemade rolls she had not been able to sell at the market earlier that morning. We stopped at a well along the way, and the majority of passengers got out to rinse off. Upon returning to the bus, a man passed around cologne for everyone to share. The group also asked me a lot of friendly questions about my work here in East Timor.

The Baucau bus “terminal” is at the end of a long street lined with dozens of shops. Some huts sell convenience items and snack foods, others sell cheap jewelry, makeup, hair clips and bands and other knick knacks, while still other shops sell clothes. There are upper and lower end clothing shops. I began by browsing through the lower end shops which sell new or slightly used clothes that have been donated by various organizations from around the world. In each shop, hundreds of clothes are just thrown onto tables (not even folded) and it is your job to dig through them to find what you are looking for. As you can imagine, there is no “order to the madness”. For example, there are no Women’s, Men’s or Children’s sections, so of course there are no further subdivisions such as “Women’s tops” or “Men’s jeans”. It’s kind of like going to a huge garage sale. If you like a top but it’s not your size, there’s very little chance of finding another one-there’s generally only one of each type of blouse, sweater or pair of pants. If you’re not sure if something is your size, take an educated guess because there’s no dressing room, either.

In the very first shop I stopped in, I was elated to find a super comfortable brown wrap-around cardigan with a Talbot’s label! It’s not common to find clothes with tags from stores I have heard of, much less a pricey store like Talbot’s! I wasn’t really looking for cardigans or cool weather clothes, but I figured I would ask how much it was anyway. I was floored to hear the shopkeeper say it was just $2! I couldn’t pass up this fantastic deal! I also found a bright pink half button pullover sweater that would go well with a camisole underneath. It was just $1.50! After having such great success at the first shop, I was very optimistic about the rest of my shopping trip.

Unfortunately, I was unable to find another top that fit me or was appropriate for wearing to teach (which was my primary objective). I browsed through several “higher end” stores, but all of them seemed to carry the exact same merchandise. I am not sure where these shops buy their clothing, but it is clear it all comes from the same place. I find it very interesting (and disappointing) that all the clothes in these stores are either very dressy and gaudy(imagine sequined or bedazzled blouses, skirts and dresses to wear to church or a special occasion) or seem to be catered towards teenagers. There was only 1 size of every blouse-junior small. Furthermore, all the teenage blouses have kiddie cartoon characters on them! Definitely NOT appropriate for a teacher to wear! Where DO young adults in East Timor shop for clothes?

At one point while I was shopping, some teenage students eagerly approached me and started conversing with me in English. I was honestly suspicious of their friendliness and thought they might be pick pockets! It turns out they were just very excited to practice their English skills with me. I was happy to be able to help them out!
After unsuccessfully browsing through dozens of stores, I returned to a lower end store where I had seen some decent tops earlier in the day. I figured maybe I had been too picky before and if I browsed through the selection again I might just find something that could work for my needs.  I was DETERMINED to buy something. I was desperate!

I took a dozen or so blouses into the dressing room and I remember remarking to myself how quaint it was. The “door” was a simple curtain, the walls were bamboo, and there was a small, jagged edged mirror opposite the curtain.  This was the first dressing room I had seen in a lower-end store, and it was more spacious and better lit than any other dressing room I had visited all day. There was even a long wooden rod hanging from the ceiling on which to hang clothes. I officially felt like a native as I maneuvered myself around in the dressing room and tried on my clothes. Several times, tops would fall on the dirty, rocky ground. Yuck! I quickly picked them up and dusted them off.

After trying on most of the tops, I only had 1 “maybe”. That’s okay, I’d saved the best ones for last! As I pulled a red and black flowered blouse over my head, my left hand swooshed down and my pointer finger knicked the rough edge of the jagged mirror! It hadn’t hurt that badly, but I knew I had cut my finger, so I immediately drew my hand closer to my face to inspect the damage. I couldn’t believe my eyes- there was a deep S-shaped gash just below my knuckle that ran all the way across my finger! But why didn’t it hurt, and where was the blood?

I stared at my finger, DARING it to bleed. I KNEW a cut like this should bleed profusely. After a few tense moments, my finger DID begin to bleed….and it didn’t STOP! Uh oh, what should I do now?! I squeezed the two sides of the cut together and applied pressure, but to no avail. I needed something to stop the bleeding, but what could I use? The only things I had with me were the 2 sweaters I had bought (too precious to ruin) my own shirt, and the dozen shirts I was trying on. My blouse was haphazardly buttoned, but I ran out of the dressing room and asked the storekeeper standing on the other side of the shop for a tissue. Of course, I didn’t know how to say this in Tetum, so he came over to me to clarify what I had requested. I was afraid to show him my hand-what if blood made him queasy? I had no other choice, and I lifted it to show him what I needed. He played it cool, although I could tell he was very surprised. He ran over to the register to see if he had anything. Nope.

Another lady happened to be in the shop, and she suggested he rip a garment. I wasn’t sure if he was going to follow her advice. He scrambled to a table and rummaged through a pile of clothes to find a suitable “bandage”. I don’t know exactly what he was looking for (ironically, they were all pretty junky shirts he was sifting through) and I wished he would just choose one! He didn’t seem to find one he was willing to sacrifice. Back at his desk, he picked up a white, flowery blouse. Surely he wasn’t going to use this? I thought he must have given up and decided to ignore my dilemma altogether.

By this time my entire hand was covered in blood, and the blood was dripping to the dirt ground below. I was reminded of 2 things: First, I recalled all the drops of chicken blood I have seen scattered on the ground during my time here in East Timor, and secondly, I pictured Jesus’ crucifixion. I wonder how much blood there was during that? It occurred to me that if this had happened in the U.S., I could sue the store later! I snapped back to the situation at hand: What was I going to do? How was I going to change back into my clothes without getting anything of mine or the shopkeeper’s bloody? Thankfully, the shopkeeper came over with the makeshift bandage he had made from the flowered blouse. I was able to soak up and wipe off most of the blood from my hand and tie the material around my wound. I quickly returned to the dressing room to change into my own clothes, but I wondered what I should do next. Should I get treatment or keep shopping? I really needed tops! Thankfully, a voice of reason inside my head told me what to do: “No, don’t be crazy, you can’t keep shopping. You need to get help!” As I left the store, I thanked the man and handed him $2 for the ruined blouse. I only had 1 other dollar bill with me, and I needed it for the mikrolet home. Besides that, I had only $10 bills in my wallet, and I KNEW the blouse wasn’t worth that much.  I felt badly, as though I should have given him more money, but at least I gave him something, right?

Once back out on the street, my mind started racing. What should I do now?! I didn’t have a cell phone with me-why, oh WHY had I decided to leave it in Venilale? True, I haven’t used it the entire time I’ve been in East Timor, and I NEVER expected to need it today, but it’s still always good to carry. My first thought had been to call the sisters I am staying with in Venilale or my parents and ask for their advice. I realized that they didn’t know how bad my wound was and would tell me to do the most practical thing-go to the hospital. Although I wished someone could tell me what to do, I realized that even if I had a phone, I needed to make my own decision. No one could help me with this! I think I have mentioned in a previous post that I feel most alone here in East Timor on U.S. National holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. I would like to amend this statement by saying that I feel most alone when I am injured or sick. Nothing makes you grow up faster than handling a “crisis” on your own!
I recalled seeing a sign for a clinic just past the shop where I had bought my two tops earlier in the day, so I headed there. I wasn’t sure which building the clinic was, so I returned to the shop and asked the ladies working there if the clinic was open. The first one said yes, but the second one corrected her and said it didn’t open until 2. It was only 12:30!

What to do now? I could go to the Baucau hospital, but I didn’t know where it was, how to ask for directions (although I supposed that would be easy enough to figure out), or, most importantly, how I would pay for my treatment. I had brought $60 in spending money, but no credit cards. How much would this cost to treat? What if it was just a scratch and nothing serious? I didn’t want to pay for a band-aid! ON the other hand, what if it required stitches? I would prefer to have these done by someone I know in trust in Venilale. Yes, I would return to the Venilale health clinic and get treatment from Sr. Caroline. Even though Venilale was at least an hour away (depending on when the mikrolet would be leaving), I would rather be THERE around 2 p.m. than in Baucau at that time.

Even with a plan in mind, a flurry of thoughts continued to run through my head. How serious WAS my injury? Was I being foolish to try to make it back to Venilale? My finger started to throb, I was confused, unsure what to do next, angry that I had not thought to bring my phone, and I felt VERY ALONE! How had I gotten myself into this predicament? I was injured in a foreign country without a cell phone or credit card, and help was more than an hour away! This was NOT good!

I decided to stick with my original plan-I would catch a mikrolet to Venilale. My bandage was sopping with blood, so I decided to buy a washcloth to serve as an extra bandage. I stopped at the first shop I could find. They charged me a whole $1 for a cheap washcloth, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I then stopped in a convenience store to buy snacks for the trip home. I had eaten an early breakfast and I was hungry and knew I should get some fuel. It would only complicate things to be lightheaded or weak while travelling. I had stopped in this store earlier today and the woman offered me ice cream. I thought that would be a wonderful treat for the ride home, but there was no way I could eat ice cream while applying pressure to my finger. Instead, I decided it would be better if I bought a frozen orange jelly drink to use as ice for my finger. I also bought a yummy looking package of chocolate biscuits. Grand total = 65 cents!

I didn’t know the black bag my grocery items were placed in would come in so handy. I decided to stick my hand in it to hide my gory finger. I didn’t want to upset anyone with the sight of my blood. To my surprise, however, everyone who happened to see my finger didn’t seem grossed out at all. They were concerned for me, but NONE were queasy or turned away in disgust! After buying my necessary items, I was relieved to hop onto a mikrolet that was almost full (this meant we would be departing for Venilale shortly). I was happy I was able to sit in the back left hand corner of the mikrolet, across from a mom with her infant baby and 7 year old boy. They kept me entertained and calm. The lady suggested I go to the hospital in Baucau. I asked her if it was close, to which she responded affirmatively. Just then, the mikrolet started to move. I thanked her but told her I would just wait to get treatment in Venilale.

The ride home took more than an hour, but I was feeling much more calm by this point. I had prayed for the Lord to help me, and I truly believed He was with me. I was icing my finger, eating food, the bleeding was controlled, and I was on my way to get treatment. Everything was going to be okay. I shared my chocolate cookies with the little boy across from me. He was so happy!

Once I arrived in Venilale, Sr. Caroline was nowhere to be found! After searching for half an hour or so, she finally showed up at the convent. She had been on a house call visiting an elderly lady suffering from chills and a fever. More than 2 hours after I had cut my finger, I received treatment for it. Thankfully, I DIDN’T need stitches. I was interested in seeing the cut again-it stretched all the way across my finger in an S-shaped pattern. At least I’ll have a cool scar, right? Sister twisted and contorted the wound, then squeezed it together. She then applied some antiseptic solution, and I braced myself because I knew it would sting. Still, when the first drops landed in the wound, I jumped and pulled my finger away in pain. Well, at least I didn’t scream, I suppose! The second round of Betadyne was just as painful, but I willed myself not to move or let out any audible discomfort. I was really glad to get it disinfected-who knows what germs were on the mirror or the blouse I used as a makeshift bandage?

I was relieved to have been treated, but as I half expected, there wasn’t much treatment necessary. No, it hadn’t been a “life or death” situation, and I could have waited even longer to get it treated. I was now really grateful I hadn’t gone to the hospital in Baucau. They likely would have charged me an arm and a leg for a simple bandage.
My finger has improved little by little every day. The accident occurred on Saturday, but my finger didn’t stop bleeding without pressure being applied to it until Thursday. I couldn’t bend my finger all weekend, but I was able to use it to write notes for my classes Tuesday-Thursday. Washing my hands and bathing is difficult to do without getting the bandage wet, and I have decided to postpone doing my laundry for a week or two (hopefully I have enough clothes to get by in the meantime). All in all, I am thankful I am okay and that my accident wasn’t severe. However, I don’t think I will be going clothes shopping in Baucau again anytime soon! I guess I will just have to survive with the clothes I brought with me. I AM on a mission trip, after all, so maybe this is a sign I should focus more on my service and less on my appearance!

Oh, and for those of you wondering how much a shopping spree in East Timor will cost you (including unexpected emergency treatment), here is a breakdown of my Baucau shopping expenses:

   Mikrolet to Baucau = $1
   Talbot’s sweater and pink pullover = $3.50
   Makeshift blouse bandage = $2
   Makeshift washcloth bandage = $1
   Frozen drink ice pack and chocolate cookies for a snack = 65 cents
+ Mikrolet to Venilale = $1
Grand Total: $9.15 for a 2 hour bus trip, 2 sweaters, first aid and snacks. Not too shabby!

2 comments:

  1. oh no!! that's so terrible that you got hurt, AND that it took so long to get treated! but i'm glad you were calm...if it was me, i probably would have been so much more panicked.

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  2. kiwi keeks...you are ridic and of course this WOULD happen to one of us. im glad you were able to remain calm and carry on, and that the people of east timor are so genuinely wonderful. also, 1st thing i though when i read S-shaped cut was...:drum roll: a future lightening bolt shaped scar...BOOYA! im glad you survived though and of course, that you are so introspective (as always!)

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