Samba ti bondo [millet beer; in Sango] - and - Janginoowoo am warti! Miwari tamudi wolwugo Fulɓe. [Fulani: my teacher has come! I have hope to speak Fulani]

 The honey beer from last episode was a fail - all sold out by 11am on a Sunday.  We go for the next best thing, millet beer (home brewed).  Tastes like a very un-hopped brown ale, a little nutty, a little smoky.  Even the Brit likes it:

"Cheers, mate!"

-John Edward, finest hospital facilities manager ever.  Also skilled in rugby and astral projection.

I feared that my Fulani language acquisition project was shot, as my interpreter/informant/teacher Valentin, a Cameroonian native in Fulani was on an extended vacation.  He's back!  I can ask Fulani equivalent phrases of local speakers but parsing their replies is challenging.  Kind of pointing at something and saying "What is this in Fulani?" and the answer is "That is your left hand" but you don't know which word means "that is", "left" "your" "hand" or if the whole thing is just "hand" - you get the idea.  And the online Fulani sites use West African Fulani not the local version.  Now I am making some progress.  Tamudi! (Hope).

I accompany surgeon to the OR for a cesarian.  After some drama, the maternity unit staff (not part of my NGO) are again allowed into the OR after being transiently banned by the surgeon for doing something - I don't want to know what.  A 36-ish weeker with mom actively bleeding placenta previa, the surgeon gets the kid out fast!  My maternity colleague has already been scolded by the OR staff for bringing the mom over on foot trailing blood - not the colleague's fault. I stepped in to suggest that this issue be addressed at the level of the supervisor who made that decision, but I think she is a little shaken.  She does not seem to know how to put on sterile gloves (required for baby handover from surgeon as we enter the field).  Ventilation needed - her seal is not good, I take over.  She jumps to chest compressions before I get two breaths in, even with good pulse.   She does not object however to my gentle review of what, when, how.  Kid is very slow to get with the program but ends up a solid 8/10 wide awake with mild-moderate respiratory distress by 15 minutes.  The nurses joke in Neonatology that he is my son, as he is very fair-skinned (As are many Fulani).  

We are supposed to have a mass casualty plan in place with mock mass casualty events.  My previous boss tried several times to get that going, unsuccessfully.  Today, a gasoline depot exploded at the market.  We are warned of multiple injured en route.  To the credit of my boss and the visiting ER doc we quickly mount a Red/Yellow/Green zone triage system, a little rough around the edges but considering we have no plan nor practice, not bad.  Turns out all of the transported patients are suffering from collective somatization disorder i.e. mass hysteria.  No burns, no wounds, no abnormal physical findings, just panic.  Unfortunately no diazepam in the emergency med kits, but people get over the shock quite quickly.  I don't know if anyone was actually injured physically but we didn't see them here.

The expat Nurse Activity Manager leaves in 2 days, and I in 2-3 weeks (probably - depends on replacement arrival date).  We split a going away party at Mama Chantou

 the music there is not my favorite, they swing more towards modern international-style rather than old fashioned soukous (the dj wouldn't play any of my oldies I brought on a thumb drive), but still fun had by all.