Malaria

Over the last week some things some things cleared up. Although no one knows when Tanzanian students will return to campus, foreign students met with professors, who agreed to condense classes so we’ll probably have enough time to travel before Christmas. So much smaller classes have resumed and we actually have homework for the next two weeks to fit all the material in.

Even though some stability had returned, I couldn’t figure out why I was feeling so exhausted and frazzled. I had more trouble waking up every morning until Thursday, the morning of my seminar presentation. Then I woke up with such a bad stomach ache, that I didn’t want to get out of bed at all. Convinced I had food poisoning, I dragged myself to my seminar then, on orders of several friends, to a nearby clinic to get malaria tested. I’m glad I listened.

We had been here for months and knew few foreigners on anti-malarial medication to fall ill, but over the last week at 7 international students have been diagnosed with malaria.

It’s basically a bad flu. There are so many symptoms that diagnosing it can be difficult, especially because anti-malarial medication often covers them up. I am taking my medicine, even though Mefloquine occasionally gives me anxiety attacks at night (To Poisonwood Bible fans: no, I’m hiding my pills behind my bed). That’s why I wandered around with malaria for a week before the lab technician told me that I had “plenty of malaria.”

But at least I went to an off-campus clinic and tested positive the first time. Two of my friends tested negative at the free, on-campus clinic, waited a few days, then got tested off-campus and were positive. By that point, they were so sick they both ended up in the hospital on IVs because they couldn’t hold down liquids—or their medication. The test is simple--a doctor pricks your finger then examines your blood under a microscope—but the margin of error at the on-campus clinic is enormous.

After a few days in bed, I’m almost back to myself. Malaria is completely treatable. The real people at risk of dying of malaria are children and pregnant mothers. Almost everyone I’ve ever met from Africa has had (and survived) malaria. And Tanzanians seem to think that fruit cures malaria, so my favorite fruit vendor gave me a free mango.

In summary, having malaria was a very Tanzanian experience, but it wasn't much fun and I don’t think I want to do it again.