Nyanza District Hospital, Kisumu

Nyanza District Hospital, Kisumu
The hospital was built in 1968 by the Russians, at that time Oginga Odinga, the then MP from Kisumu had good relations with Russia. There has been no maintenance since, on arrival the first impression is scruffy guards, bent gates, remains of fencing, unkempt grounds and a blotchy 3 story concrete building sorely needing painting.
On arrival the first problem is to get Guyo out of the ambulance and into the hospital arrivals area through a door which seems to me to be too small. Priscilla goes off to see if she can find a wheel chair, it is amazing we have to do everything ourselves to get the patients into the waiting area. Very fortunately for us Bori, Guyo’s brother arrives, he is a policeman in the Kisumu area and on hearing of the accident he came straight to the hospital. After some time we are all assessed with the result that Laban, Guyo and Asha are admitted, during this process the shock hits me and I lie down on the dirty dusty floor of the reception area to avoid passing out, This has quite a dramatic effect as all the locals come crowding round to see this mzungu lying on the floor. While lying there I notice that the plastic floor tiles originally fitted seem to have largely disappeared with just remnants round the edges. Fortunately I am conscious enough to be able to hand out the various payments required for the admission and diagnosis process to continue. I say goodbye to Farther Peter and Priscilla and give them a donation for their little hospital. They drop Bori and myself at the new DAL Hotel which turns out to be owned by a neighbour of Guyo and Bori who comes from Marsabit and is called Godana, he was also a police officer, a senior one before retiring. Godana immediately insists on taking me to the Aga Khan for a check up, fortunately I am OK just bruised and sore, they give me anti-inflammatory drugs to combat the bruising.
The next day, Monday 26th, I sleep all day.
The next day I feel much better and help Bori running around looking after our patients. Bori is a great guy; I speak to his chief officer who gives permission for him to help us for the rest of the week, a fine gesture, as we really need him. It is African culture that when someone is in hospital a family member will come to help out, in the case of Nyanza District hospital this is essential. We have to do everything for them, fetch food and drink, fetch drugs, get special items like splints and the neck collar for Asha, and pay the bills. Bori and I go to the hospital dispensary to get prescribed drugs, this is a large building in the hospital grounds with several staff, we go through the list of drugs, they have none of them, only paracetamol which they give us with a resigned look and an apology. All the drugs have to come from town, without us our patients would get nothing.
The most disturbing image I have of this place is the sight of Laban’s terrified eyes one morning when he tells me about the night he has just experienced. As he is in a lot of pain he cannot sleep so he is the night watch man to make sure nothing gets stolen otherwise everything will go, phones, food, drink, clothes and hospital equipment. In the toilets the pipes tanks and fittings have all been stripped leaving urine and faeces to overflow into the corridor. In the night they come to fetch the dead with a trolley with creaking wheels, that night it came to their ward 3 times, each time Laban thought it was for him.