souvenirs

When coming back from Africa my back bag was extremely light. I left most of my clothes behind, as I knew they would be more needed in the Sub-Saharan heat than in busy Paris.  Also in terms of souvenirs I was travelling light – a skirt for my mother and my sister, a shirt for my brother and few other small items. And for myself – malaria.

Yesterday at school, half way through my French class I started feeling really cold, my teeth were rattling and all colour disappeared from my face. Two hours later I was hot and feverish. It was not looking good. I went to print out something at school and pumped into a friend who right away noticed I had fever. High fever.

Not so long earlier I had jokingly emailed my mother saying, “I think I have malaria again”. Well, I had malaria – again.

My real problem was not the malaria per se but the fact that I was in the centre of Paris, supposedly starting to work in one hour and I had malaria. I phoned my boss – “yes, no joke, I have malaria”. But it was too late to find a replacement. Perfect. Just perfect.

Luckily I had managed to get hold of some medication – and found out that in Europe it costs 250 times as much to treat malaria than it does in Africa. And the medication is far weaker. Should have gone to the pharmacy there – silly me.

Work was interesting. I got dressed. 15minutes later I took off two layers and a half an hour later I put three on. This obviously got me some funny looks but there was nothing I could do about it. Where as in Sub-Saharan Africa malaria worries people as much as a common cold in Europe, in Paris people, at least the ones I work with, seemed to think that I have some deadly disease that will cause a serious killer epidemic. So I thought I better not say anything to the clients.

I had been told that after having been back for few weeks I wouldn’t have to worry. Well I now know that in some rare cases it can take up to few months before the problem surfaces. I hate to be special.

Luckily the night was calm and quiet so I managed to leave work early. On the way back I felt a bit nervous…what if I would be run over by an elephant?

Because obviously, in the centre of Paris anything and I mean anything can happen.