I have two stories of Africa, or more to the point, Tanzania Africa. There is the Africa which is lush green with the promise of rolling mountain ranges, misty craters, parks of migrating animals continuing their seasonal cycles. Much of the earthy canvas remains open and tentative to the visitor's eye. There is the sense of possibility if only more infrastructure was developed. The children I visited at the Masai village ran after us smiling. They were so eager to get a glance at our digital cameras and to see themselves peering back from the small screen. Their mothers let us into their small homes and would only let us take a picture after they adorned themselves with all of their ornamental pieces. I couldn't help but compare these families to the ones I see more often at home. I am rarely greeted and welcomed into a stranger's home here in London, and when I think of most young children in the urban setting of London, they all have digital cameras and mobile phones of their own which they play on the train with little concern for the effect it has on the people around them. The easy smiles that flickered in the Masai village are a rarity in the city which is now my home.
My other story of Africa is connected to my last night in Tanzania. We sat waiting in the airport to board our plane back to London via Amsterdam. All of us were tired, dusty and ready to find our way back into our own trusted beds. Suddenly a cry cut through the stillness of the small waiting area. 'Can somebody help us. We need a doctor!' A young man in an orange shirt was scouring the crowd of tourists for some immediate help. His father was having a heart attack. I looked around. The airport staff looked dumbfounded and reacted very minimally. The first burst of energy came from the tourists who recognized the urgency in the young man's voice and posture. Our plane began to board and many felt confusion over whether to stay and watch the crisis unraveling or to board the plane. I boarded not feeling that I could help. Eventually I heard that an ambulance did finally emerge but that it had no equipment. One oxygen didn't work, and the second had no oxygen. The cardiac patient was treated with the defibulator from the KLM airplane. He survived, but one can't help but wonder what would have happened without the intervention of the airplane. And don't the people of Tanzania and Africa deserve better healthcare services?
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