Dirty Dhaka stricken by diarrhoea epidemic

As some of you may have picked up from my pathetic-sounding tweets over the last few days, I was recently struck down by a rather nasty bout of ‘the episodes’. I have never been this sick with diarrhoea before, and have never realised how truly unpleasant – and frankly dangerous – diarrhoea can be. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had travellers diarrhoea, and even giardia, many times before (I didn’t get the nickname Windy-bum Whitaker for nothing). I’m also well versed in the usual coping mechanisms (lots of oral rehydration salts and lots of water, combined with a tantalising selection of any of the following: flat 7-Up, bananas, toast, boiled rice, boiled eggs etc. My approach is always eat if you feel hungry, don’t eat if you don’t, and go to the doctor if things aren’t improving after 48 hours).

However, I’ve truly never been this sick in all my days in Bangladesh. I was only the other day thinking how lucky I’ve been, not to have been hospitalised, operated upon or airlifted out of the country, like many of my fellow volunteers. I was even applauding the steeliness of my immune system a little bit. I should have known that such thoughts only tempt fate.

Not to dwell on the gritty details, but things were BAD for quite a few days. To cut a long story short, I was practically bed ridden for three days, was given horrendously strong antibiotics, and lost about 4 kilograms in less than a week. Luckily, the antibiotics seem to have done their work, and I’ve managed to progress to non-toast-based meals over the last two days.

Usually, I can identify a likely culprit when I’m struck down with the episodes. This time around, however, I couldn’t think of anything suspect I’d eaten in the past few days. My only conclusion is therefore that the general grubbiness (read, pure filth) that characterises Dhaka simply makes one more susceptible to sickness of any kind.

During my hour of need, I was (slightly) comforted to learn that I and my liquid bowels weren’t suffering alone. ICDDR,B, the diarrhoea hospital in Dhaka – and obviously the place you want to be when you’ve got diarrhoea – has recently seen a major influx of patients as the temperature here climbs day by day. Apparently, it’s a common occurrence during this season – and one instance in which the ‘change of seasons’ can genuinely be seen to be affecting health. When I went to the travellers’ clinc that is also at ICDDR,B on Thursday, feeling extremely sorry for myself, it was sobering to see where the Bangladeshi diarrhoea patients wait out their episodes: on rubber-covered gurneys with holes in the middle and buckets beneath, in what is essentially an open air ward.

A bit of an epiphany

I’ve had a bit of an epiphany lately, dear readers: I am ready to leave the ‘desh.

Although the thought of leaving regularly makes me want to weep, a very wise friend pointed out to me a few weeks ago that, when working in development, just as it is important to see out your contract, it’s equally important to known when to leave. And I’ve come to see, over the last few weeks, that my desire to stay here at GBK is more about my fear of the next step, than about what I can really contribute to GBK in addition to what I’m already doing. The skills that I have, and the support that GBK now needs, no longer match. It’s time for us both to move on.

I think my work here is (almost) done.

Now all I have to do is break this to my colleagues. Like my neighbours, they are forever trying to convince me to stay on in Bangladesh. For a while, I was genuinely searching for ways to stay. But now that I know this is not what I want, I just don’t know if I have the heart to tell my friends that, actually, for the time being at least, I’m done with Bangladesh.