aedonaaronimboredthisisboringineedcanvasbutalsohavetopayrent
My very traumatizing first visit to a Sri Lankan public hospital followed by the demise of my canadian reputation as a rugged lumberjack:
.... Most dogs in Sri Lanka have no fur. They have pink cracking skin and crusty eyes. They're so malnourished that they often times can barely walk and just seem to lay wherever they are.... The Sri Lankan dog scene is a whole bunch different... I suppose it could be worse. It could be Korea.
Nonetheless, the dog's life is far more indicative of "a dog's life". And I'm sure they're not included in the caste system.
A rabies shot had been included in our mandatory vaccination sessions but when my friend Mel was bitten by a scruffy homeless k-nine, without question, she had to take a trip to the Kunrunegala public hospital.
In retrospect, it's rather unfortunate that I had taken the effort to learn Sinhala; I was asked by our supervisor to accompany Mel to Kurunegala and translate as best I could.
We had grown accustomed to the curry-sweat smell of the overcrowded buses, the staring eyes, the 35 deg. weather and the touchy locals; our trip to Kurunegala from our remote village just outside of Wariyapola wasn't so bad but as we walked through the hospital doors, I knew that I was not in Kansas anymore... nor was I in Canada.
Lepers, screaming Tamil children, pregnant brown women and doctors performing their work amongst waiting patients all stopped and shot their eyes upward. We were white people, too poor to afford private care...a species more rare in Sri Lanka than beef in Cuba. We waited in line. The heat, the noise, the stares and the smells were almost too much but despite various efforts to rush us through, we waited.
Finally we were next. "ayubowan...mokadde karenne?.. mokadde owna?" the doctor asked. I explained "bala kanne eyage atte" or "dog ate her arm" I struggled through with his English and my Sinhala and finally he found a syringe. I didn't know how to ask for a new one.. I tried.. he got frustrated but finally understood. I shouldn't have bothered as he wrote us both off as snotty tourists and angrily jabbed the new needle into every finger that had been penetrated by zee dog.
The situation was terrible for Melanie I'm sure. She held back tears as she received 4 shots, one for each of her bony dog-bitten fingers. Sun-tanned eyes followed us as we walked out into late afternoon.
We packed into the bus and headed home with some understanding of the real world, or at least, the majority of it... "I guess Canada's health care isn't that bad."
.... Most dogs in Sri Lanka have no fur. They have pink cracking skin and crusty eyes. They're so malnourished that they often times can barely walk and just seem to lay wherever they are.... The Sri Lankan dog scene is a whole bunch different... I suppose it could be worse. It could be Korea.
Nonetheless, the dog's life is far more indicative of "a dog's life". And I'm sure they're not included in the caste system.
A rabies shot had been included in our mandatory vaccination sessions but when my friend Mel was bitten by a scruffy homeless k-nine, without question, she had to take a trip to the Kunrunegala public hospital.
In retrospect, it's rather unfortunate that I had taken the effort to learn Sinhala; I was asked by our supervisor to accompany Mel to Kurunegala and translate as best I could.
We had grown accustomed to the curry-sweat smell of the overcrowded buses, the staring eyes, the 35 deg. weather and the touchy locals; our trip to Kurunegala from our remote village just outside of Wariyapola wasn't so bad but as we walked through the hospital doors, I knew that I was not in Kansas anymore... nor was I in Canada.
Lepers, screaming Tamil children, pregnant brown women and doctors performing their work amongst waiting patients all stopped and shot their eyes upward. We were white people, too poor to afford private care...a species more rare in Sri Lanka than beef in Cuba. We waited in line. The heat, the noise, the stares and the smells were almost too much but despite various efforts to rush us through, we waited.
Finally we were next. "ayubowan...mokadde karenne?.. mokadde owna?" the doctor asked. I explained "bala kanne eyage atte" or "dog ate her arm" I struggled through with his English and my Sinhala and finally he found a syringe. I didn't know how to ask for a new one.. I tried.. he got frustrated but finally understood. I shouldn't have bothered as he wrote us both off as snotty tourists and angrily jabbed the new needle into every finger that had been penetrated by zee dog.
The situation was terrible for Melanie I'm sure. She held back tears as she received 4 shots, one for each of her bony dog-bitten fingers. Sun-tanned eyes followed us as we walked out into late afternoon.
We packed into the bus and headed home with some understanding of the real world, or at least, the majority of it... "I guess Canada's health care isn't that bad."