As of approximately two weeks ago, I have officially been living in Zambia for six months. I knoe this for two reasons: (1) prior to moving here, I visited a travel doctor and received 180 days worth of Doxycycline, an anti-malarial prophylaxis and (2) there is this amazing invention called a calendar which allows you to keep track of time. With such a landmark length of time like half of a year, it’s only natural that I would dedicate a blog discussing what it has been like through my unique perspective. Theoretically, I could write thousands of words covering a plethora of topics. Realistically, I’m going to spend about 500 words on just two topics: my waning concern with my health and my newfound fascination with Fanta.
As I alluded to in the previous paragraph, I came to Zambia with six months of anti-malarial prophylaxis. To say I was concerned with malaria prior to moving here was an understatement. I had absolutely no idea what malaria was about. I was under the impression that essentially every single mosquito on the continent was a carrier and that once you were infected it stuck with you for life. Apparently, I had some misinformation. Malaria definitely is a problem in Africa, it is definitely a realistic possibility that one will acquire malaria, and malaria definitely does suck. However, the risk of malaria in low altitude areas in the bush is drastically different than the risk of malaria in the posh areas of large cities in high altitudes (For those keeping track at home, Lusaka is the biggest city in Zambia and is at a high altitude). When I moved here, I thought the risk of malaria was about 50% a year if you took no precautions. In reality, it’s probably about 8% a year.
Still, up until a few weeks ago, I had a 99% adherence rate. Then, I ran out. This created a unique battle: my desire to not get malaria versus my ridiculously high laziness quotient. Is anyone really surprised that laziness has so far won? Before anyone at home starts freaking out, I will be stopping at the pharmacy this week to pick up more pills. I still realize the threat of malaria is real and I’d be a moron to not protect myself. I haven’t contracted malaria (although interestingly I did acquire a cold this week and I suspect it’s because I wasn’t taking the antibiotics). I just thought it was noteworthy how lax I have become.
I think the take home message is that living conditions are not as dramatically worse as one may assume. Even six months later, I still boil all of my water before I drink, I still peel every piece of fruit and wash every vegetable from the grocery store, and I still brush my teeth with boiled water. Still, I am starting to wonder if it’s all necessary. To this day, I’ve probably been healthier over the last six months than I was living in the states.
I’d like to dedicate the second part of this blog to some sad news. As of the first week of March, I am officially back on the soda wagon. It started out as having sodas consecutive nights to celebrate being able to watch Gonzaga play. It slowly evolved into me rationalize drinking coke for every basketball game I watched and finally conceding to drinking it every day. It’s really unfortunate because I think my soda boycott was an inspiration for others to stop drinking soda; I think at least two people are soda-free because of me. In the end, though, it’s not my fault that soda tastes so delicious.
I do want to add a commentary on the difference between American soda preferences and the rest of the world. Does anyone else remember the Fanta commercials that repeated the phrase
“Do you wanna…wanna Fanta…dontcha wanta Fanta”
until you just wish someone would kick you in the head and end the misery? I never understood why they would try so hard to popularize a drink. Apparently, though, America is the only place in the world where Fanta isn’t huge. It’s also ridiculously good. It’s like drinking Kool-Aid laced with the addictive agents found in crack (Disclaimer: I’ve never had crack before. It’s called a hypothetical analogy.) I feel so un-American right now. I promise all of this loser talk stays in Africa.
As I alluded to in the previous paragraph, I came to Zambia with six months of anti-malarial prophylaxis. To say I was concerned with malaria prior to moving here was an understatement. I had absolutely no idea what malaria was about. I was under the impression that essentially every single mosquito on the continent was a carrier and that once you were infected it stuck with you for life. Apparently, I had some misinformation. Malaria definitely is a problem in Africa, it is definitely a realistic possibility that one will acquire malaria, and malaria definitely does suck. However, the risk of malaria in low altitude areas in the bush is drastically different than the risk of malaria in the posh areas of large cities in high altitudes (For those keeping track at home, Lusaka is the biggest city in Zambia and is at a high altitude). When I moved here, I thought the risk of malaria was about 50% a year if you took no precautions. In reality, it’s probably about 8% a year.
Still, up until a few weeks ago, I had a 99% adherence rate. Then, I ran out. This created a unique battle: my desire to not get malaria versus my ridiculously high laziness quotient. Is anyone really surprised that laziness has so far won? Before anyone at home starts freaking out, I will be stopping at the pharmacy this week to pick up more pills. I still realize the threat of malaria is real and I’d be a moron to not protect myself. I haven’t contracted malaria (although interestingly I did acquire a cold this week and I suspect it’s because I wasn’t taking the antibiotics). I just thought it was noteworthy how lax I have become.
I think the take home message is that living conditions are not as dramatically worse as one may assume. Even six months later, I still boil all of my water before I drink, I still peel every piece of fruit and wash every vegetable from the grocery store, and I still brush my teeth with boiled water. Still, I am starting to wonder if it’s all necessary. To this day, I’ve probably been healthier over the last six months than I was living in the states.
I’d like to dedicate the second part of this blog to some sad news. As of the first week of March, I am officially back on the soda wagon. It started out as having sodas consecutive nights to celebrate being able to watch Gonzaga play. It slowly evolved into me rationalize drinking coke for every basketball game I watched and finally conceding to drinking it every day. It’s really unfortunate because I think my soda boycott was an inspiration for others to stop drinking soda; I think at least two people are soda-free because of me. In the end, though, it’s not my fault that soda tastes so delicious.
I do want to add a commentary on the difference between American soda preferences and the rest of the world. Does anyone else remember the Fanta commercials that repeated the phrase
“Do you wanna…wanna Fanta…dontcha wanta Fanta”
until you just wish someone would kick you in the head and end the misery? I never understood why they would try so hard to popularize a drink. Apparently, though, America is the only place in the world where Fanta isn’t huge. It’s also ridiculously good. It’s like drinking Kool-Aid laced with the addictive agents found in crack (Disclaimer: I’ve never had crack before. It’s called a hypothetical analogy.) I feel so un-American right now. I promise all of this loser talk stays in Africa.
1 comment:
I would like to say that I too fell in love with Fanta while abroad. I drank a litter of orange Fanta in an afternoon. This is amazing coming from someone who rarely drinks soda. Then I came back to the States and was so disappointed with the Fanta here that I haven't had it since...
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