Malnutrition

Let me start this story by saying, “Do not be alarmed” I am posting this because it is amusing to me and clearly the whole thing worked out fine because I am able to post this story comfortably from an internet café in my market town. That being said, here is the story:

When we first arrived at training the horror story started circulating that every female volunteer in Peace Corps gains weight and every male loses it. This story was confirmed by our doctors, RPCVs on staff, and the current PCVs who came to assist with training. And once I saw a traditional Rwandan meal I was no longer all that shocked. The case was settled when we asked one female volunteer what she did about the fact that Rwandan meals were all starch and she said, “I just got chubby.” So I was resigned to my fat, I would gain some weight here, which in the service of the greater good really isn’t all that serious a crisis. Additionally, being white has the main perk that I could look like [insert any hideous celebrity] and still be considered beautiful, such is life as an oddity.  I decided I would accept the weight gain until I got my own house and could cook for myself – aka 1 starch/carb per meal.

            However,   this is not how things played out. A few weeks into training I realized my pants had gotten noticeably larger despite my Rwandan diet but I reasoned that it was because they were being manhandled every time they were washed and then dried on a line instead of by machine. This trend progressed, however, throughout the training period. Additionally, I was getting awful stomach illnesses roughly bi-weekly which landed me in the infirmary and definitely added to my weight loss. (Yay for bucking trends).

            This situation got serious once I got to site and was able to cook for myself and realized I was still constantly getting sick – meaning I couldn’t blame it on my host families cooking anymore. Either I was an unhygienic cook as well or Africa simply wasn’t agreeing with me. Finally, one week after being at site I was washing my dishes when I collapsed inside my house. Naturally, it is a scary feeling to wake up on your floor and realize you’ve fainted and don’t know how long you’ve been out for. I tend to faint a lot, however, so I was going to chug some water and take a nap without thinking much of it but another volunteer happened to call me in that moment. She was upset about a piece of news we had received that day but I was completely out of it and finally had to admit my current situation and ask to call her back. This didn’t go well and she demanded that I call the doctors or she would. The doctors naturally had me come to Kigali the next day escorted by my closest volunteer – incase I should pass out again on public transport.

            Upon weighing me in Kigali it was discovered I have lost 20-25 lbs and am technically malnourished. It looks like I took integrating into the community a little too far; I even have the distended abdomen which would explain why I didn’t notice the dramatic weight loss but you can wrap your fingers around my upper arm – not a good sign – which I probably should have noticed. This is obviously and ikibazo (problem) and I had to agree to gain back a certain amount of the weight to remain a PCV. The bigger problem is that I have been eating and while living with a host family I was eating like a Rwandan, so clearly something was wrong. After several tests it was determined that I have an amoeba which is living in my stomach and stealing all my nutrients causing me to take almost no nourishment from the food I consume. What an odd world we live in. Luckily I have since been given something kill the little devils and I feasted in Kigali. A big thanks to my fellow PCVs for a. making me call the doctors b. accompanying my to Kigali and c. spending most of our Christmas celebrations saying things like “eat this you need the calories.”