Gidean and Natembo placed Bernie horizontally in the back of the Beetle, and Gidean got into the front. Bernie’s eyes were wild as he coughed uncontrollably, spitting up large mouthfuls of blood onto the backseat. His blood-splattered hands shook as he struggled to sit upright.
I had never seen an extreme case of TB, but it seemed clear that that’s what he had. I slowly rolled the window down, as the heavy coughing was pretty unsettling. From the rearview mirror, I saw blood dripping down the backseat with every cough. It was clear this was terminal.
“How long has he been like this?”
“Some months now. On and off.”
“He’s been like this for months?”
Gidean nodded. “It is serious. Very, very serious.”
“Has he been treated for TB?”
Gidean shook his head.
“Is TB a big problem in the Caprivi?”
“Not since ten years. Now it is extreme. It is due to the problem of this HIV. It was not like this before. TB was not such a big problem as it is now.”
“And HIV? Do people understand what it is?”
“At-at-at-at-at. There are many stories. Many different beliefs about this thing. In fact, just the other day, I heard that people were not using condoms made in America because they believed that the Americans were using them to spread AIDS in Africa.”
“Are you serious?”
“I am very, very serious.”
“People are not using condoms?”
“Sometimes they do. There was very much education about these things. But now things are worse. I don’t know how it happened. The wrong information spreads. We are still suffering here in Caprivi from a postwar mentality. There is this idea that everything that is bad is the fault of the government.”
We drove in silence for some time. When we got to the hospital, the admission line went around the building. I looked at all of the people that were either standing or sitting, looking as if they had been there for some hours at least. “What can we do?” I looked back at Bernie. “He can’t stand in that line.”
Gidean shook his head. “There is no option. That is the only way he can see a doctor.”
“But isn’t there an emergency room? Can’t we get him in right away?”
“No, Catherine, it doesn’t work that way here. There are many, many people in need of treatment.”
I got out of the car and looked at the front of the line to see if there was an admissions person that I could speak to. “I’ll be right back.”
Gidean waited with Bernie at the car. He was too weak to stand up and was still coughing blood everywhere. I couldn’t help wondering how many people he might infect by standing in that interminable line.
I walked up to a very young exhausted-looking health worker who stood inside a booth at the head of the line. I got lots of stares from the people in line presumably thinking that I was trying to use the color of my skin in order to cut the line.
I pointed to my vehicle. “I have a ranger who is very, very sick. He is too weak to stand in this line.”
“Lady,” she said, “all of these people have been here for many hours and many of them are also very, very sick. I am sorry.”
“But could you at least have a look at him? He must be very infectious.”
“I am sorry. Isn’t there a friend that can stay with him in line?”
I couldn’t help being aggressive. “I will bring him to you so you can decide whether it’s safe to expose all of your other patients standing in this line.”
“You must speak to the doctor about this.”
“Okay. Where is the doctor?”
She looked at me blankly. “I will call him.”
I waited while the health worker disappeared into the building. I waved the flies away from my lips as a small boy herded a few goats toward an open-air market on the other side of the hospital. The dried fish and chickens attracted more flies than I wanted to think about, standing in this line with all of these suffering people.
I turned back to the counter and looked up at the red face of an angry Afrikaner with a wild beard and a beer belly.
“What’s the problem here?” the man snapped.
I looked the man up and down. “Are you the doctor?”
“Of course I’m the doctor. Why else would I be in this dump?” He held his hand out at the growing line of patients. “A very busy doctor, as you can see.”
I nodded. “I’m sure you must be extremely busy, but my friend seems to have TB.”
“Yes?”
“Surely you can’t expect him to stand in this line? He’s probably contagious.”
“I’m sure he is. Perhaps you don’t realize how many terminal cases of TB that I see on a daily basis. We don’t have a way to quarantine patients.”
“Seems like that should be a priority.”
“Put yourself in my position,” he growled. “We’re dealing with an epidemic here with no resources. All I can do is attempt to maintain order. If you come here demanding special attention, you’re going to cause a commotion.”
“I have no intention of causing trouble. I’m just trying to help a friend.”
“And if I bring your friend to the head of the queue, what message does that send to every other person here that’s riddled with TB?”
“As far as I can tell, he appears worse than everyone else. And I think that everyone else would appreciate him being attended to.”
“Ah, so you’re a TB expert?”
I shook my head. “No, not at all. If I could just bring him here for you to assess, I think you’ll agree.”
The doctor waved his hand officiously and I quickly ran back toward my car. Gidean had positioned Bernie in the line and they were able to find some shade under a tree. Gidean stood up. “Is everything all right?”
I grabbed his arm. “Come. We’re going to take him to admissions. The doctor will have a look.”
Gidean shrugged. “Okay.”
I patted Bernie gently on the back. “Come. It’s just over here.”
Bernie nodded weakly, and we did our best to carry him to the admissions booth.
The doctor looked at Bernie and waved him inside.
Gidean turned to me. “I’ll take it from here,” he said. “You’ve done enough.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I grabbed Bernie’s other arm and put it around me. “I will help you.”
“Thanks, Catherine.”
When we reached the doctor, he waved to his attendant to bring Bernie inside.
I reached my hand out to the doctor. “Thank you. I’m Catherine Sohon, by the way.”
Begrudgingly, the doctor shook my hand. “Geldenhuis. Donnie Geldenhuis.”
“Thank you, Dr. Geldenhuis. I really appreciate this.”
“I’ll never hear the end of the complaints.”
“Father Sebuku actually mentioned your name yesterday. You have an office in town?”
He nodded. “I try to make it there over lunchtime, but it’s usually too backed up here.”
“Great, I hope to catch you there.”
“We’ll see how it goes.”
As I drove away, I couldn’t bear to look in the rearview mirror at the backseat. But the thought of TB baking onto my seats was enough for me to muster up the energy to go to the grocery store, buy some disinfectant and paper towels, and wipe down the seats.