Count now stands at seven. Jason II has it now (Jason I got it last week). And the Sekasua's grandson Andrew got it on Monday (although he wasn't taken to the hospital; they just started him on meds but only after I insisted he was running a fever and was like a different child). Funny, people in the West flip out if their kid has a fever and I can't imagine what the average white mother would do if their kid contracted malaria. Yet here, people show more concern when looking for their chickens. There was 7-year-old Andrew standing about looking like death on a death and running a temperature of 39C and Mama is chatting away with all the calm in the world. It's just life here (and, for people who can't afford medicine or to keep themselves strong and healthy, sometimes death).
This is getting ridiculous. I mean, a cold wouldn't spread through this many people, and you can't even catch malaria from anything but a mosquito! I am starting to wonder if the rumour is true; that anything resembling a fever and aches and pains here is diagnosed as malaria (well, I suppose that's better than it being diagnosed as AIDS). Is there a grand national conspiracy to falsely accuse everyone's blood slide of being riddled with malaria parasites? and if there is, WHY? And possibly more disturbingly, if it isn't malaria, then what is it? Sandra has been horizontal since Friday. Somehow I don't think she's faking it. It's very strange, and even more strange is the wait for it to inevitably hit me. Seeing this many people come down with it has certainly lessened the fear I had, but let's face it, it's not something I want. Mosquitoes have evolved here to the point where you can neither hear them flying nor feel them biting. You only know there are mosquitoes around once you have been bitten. And they are tough thugs, too. They just laugh off the ordinary repellent, which means my feet have started to wrinkle and go grey from applying 80 per cent DEET every night. Vanity certainly takes a distant second to health around here.
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