Ouch!

Some of you already know this, but myself (Julie) and another close PCV friend, Tina, are using our leave time wisely and taking a trip to Southern Africa next month. As such we had to get all of the appropriate vaccinations and medications.

School Christmas Concert

So a few weekends ago Tina and I made our way to the Comprehensive Clinic in downtown Kingston. The Clinic is located in an ‘unsavory’ part of town to quote our nurse, and it was quite the experience getting there to begin with, much less everything that ensued afterword. I won’t be able to relay all of it here, but I’ll try to give you a taste:

 If you can, try to imagine 2 white PCVs, Sherpani and Osprey bags in tow, walking through a building that can best be described as an abandoned train station. The Clinic was full of Jamaicans, all of who were watching us fumble our way around, trying to figure out the system that was so obvious to everybody else. Most people were very helpful, while others were completely lifeless and indifferent. The Clinic is surrounded by barb-wire fence, and had at least 5 security guards on duty. The security guards also function as the Point of Information, as we were repeatedly told (by our PC nurse), to ask the security guards if we had any questions. 

'Bunks-about' at a school event

The doctor who would later give us our vaccine, told us that we had to go see the cashier first, and pay the $3US it would cost us as foreigners. She gave us directions to the cashier, and we followed them, while Baby-Mamas, students in uniform, and hacking grandfathers all watched. We attempted to read the half-ripped paper signs on the wall amidst the crumbling paint, but they were of no use as the ink on the paper had either faded or bled so much that we couldn’t decipher anything. Plus, what can I say, it’s not easy when you have an audience. 

We finally found our way into a corridor where the ‘cashier’ supposedly was, but all we saw there were about a dozen people sitting on wooden benches, and two windows that could best be described as boarded up ticket windows out of a 1960s theatre, covered by a rusted plate of steel, with a ½in slot in the middle. No markings, no signs, no nothing, anywhere. Confused, we returned to our trusty security guard for clarification, and he insured us that we were at the right spot –as if it were obvious.

Signing in at Book Club

So we walked back in, trying to figure out our next move, and thank you Lord!, we see a man walk in, walk up to the sheets of steel, lean down bringing his lips to the ½in crack and say something. He then turns his head to the side, now putting his ear to the slot. After repeating these motions a couple more times, he walks off as we walk up and says, “He doesn’t have change.” In his hand, he was holding a $500j bill. The bill for everybody is $250j. How the cashier who repeatedly charges a fee  of $250j all day doesn’t have change for $500j is beyond me. That’s like a regular fee costing $5 in the US, and the cashier doesn’t have change for a ten.  

Following my predecessor’s lead, I put my lips to the ½ slot, and said ‘hello’. I hear nothing. I lean down a little lower and peer in, seeing 2 inches of forehead –that’s it. So I say it louder, “Hello!” The man finally says, ‘Yes?’, and I say that we needed to get a yellow fever vaccine and the doctor told us we must pay here first. Silence. Me: ‘Um, okay, so that’s $250 each, right?’ ‘Yes.’ So then I slide through the $500j for the both of us, and hope that I’ll get back some sort of receipt. I spell out our names to the faceless man, wondering if this is somewhat how Tim Allen felt chatting with Mr. Wilson. And low and behold, he slides back through two slips of paper, with our names on them, spelt correctly. It worked! So we grab our slips, smile at our spectators, and go find the doctor again, and on our way out we sarcastically say, ‘Duh. That was like so obvious.’ ‘I know. Duh. What took us so long.’…. like it’s a just another normal day in the life of a PCV.