growing up in the comparatively ultra-clean, almost annoyingly disease-free great white north does little to prepare prospective residents of a place like ghana. at times, my journey into west africa has struck me with an acute case of fear and loathing. it's a whole new world of potential health hazards lurking around every corner; a breeding ground, if you will, for paranoia.
every day when i wake up, i assess my body for damages. is that itchy red mark a gift from a malaria-bearing mosquito? poisonous spider? bedbug? it's like christmas all year long. only in this version, i can truthfully say it's better to give than recieve and really mean it for the first time in my life. i like to imagine families gathered around the tree, giving eachother guinea worm wrapped in festive little packages, saying “i saw this and had to get it for you!”
painful welts, itchy bumps, unknown red scrapes, runny eyes and nose, searing blisters, abdominal pain...there's a million stories on the human body, and mine has heard them all. the lonely planet's “dangers and annoyances” section has become a virtual to do list. theoretically, you don't want to drink the water, eat certain unidentifiable foods, expose yourself to festering garbage piles or rivers of raw sewage.
but those are sooo yesterday. there are much more creative and exotic ways to test the ol' travel insurance!
bilharzia, for instance. i have no idea how to pronounce it, or even what it is. i do know i don't like the sound of it. i know it's present in many of ghana's lakes and rivers. when i ask the locals if it's safe to swim, the typically casual reply “it seems so,” doesn't fill me with confidence. better to steer clear than emerge from the water with a third arm, no?
it's a hypochondriac's wet dream. there's always some nasty virus or parasite lurking just around the corner.
and fellow refugees from the safe, luxurious embrace of the developed world don't help, either. everyone's got a story. from falling off a motorcycle, to serious malaria, and stumbling into a rain-filled gutter for a nice, relaxing sewage bath. That's sewage, not seaweed, for all you spa-goers. and the less said about the hospitals of horror, the better. that's one time you may be better off with a marathon waiting room experience.
but despite all the pitfalls, i remain relatively healthy. this despite eating questionable morsels of street meat, going weeks without taking my daily malaria meds and tro-tro rides like real-life amusement park attractions.
knock on wood.
maybe i should be a little more cautious. maybe i should pay more attention to the various scars, bumps and blemishes ravaging my alabaster skin.
but then again, i was never all that attractive anyway.
either way, i'm enjoying myself too much to care, and building up one hell of a lot of antibodies while i'm at it!
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