Packing the medical kits for our first project away from the MAWS clinic
Now that we were old pros by MAWS standards, we were deemed ready for a few days of work away from the clinic- “trench medicine” by our spoiled brat North American standards. It would be an easy couple of days- Bronwyn, a MAWS supporter, had donated the veranda of a house on her property as the site of our first off-site project. With a packing list and much assistance from Cephas we loaded the truck and the Venture with everything we would need for the next couple of days. It was an easy 20 minute drive to the site on the opposite end of Maun in ‘the ‘burbs’: still in town, but far enough away from the clinic that we could help a lot of people who wouldn’t be able to get there simply because they didn’t have transportation. Providing a couple days of work in this location would provide veterinary assistance to a significant number of people who may not otherwise have made the effort to have their pets seen.
The CAAT crew unpacks and organizes for our first project away from the MAWS clinic
As we would learn over the next two projects, things move slowly in Botswana. We arrived semi-promptly and set up shop in the front yard of what would be considered a swinging bachelor pad in a different part of the world. The home was rented, but the tenant had graciously vacated for a couple days so we could work unencumbered under the shelter of the veranda. A couple of major bonuses, as we would learn, were a bathroom, a fridge, and running water.
A truckload of dogs brought from the surrounding area
We were set up and ready for business by 11, but despite Nation’s ground work announcing the project in the neighborhood, there was not much action. Cephas and Gwen, an ex-pat Coloradan, hopped in the truck and headed off to points unknown. They arrived back a half-hour later with a truck partially full of dogs, collected from the surrounding neighbourhood- enough to keep us plenty busy for the rest of the day, finishing up with 10 surgeries, including a very sloppy spay, and a cryptorchid neuter.
Chris preps and monitors a patient for surgery
Surgery under these conditions is a bit of an adventure at the best of times: outdoors, no surgery lights, no machines that go ‘bing!’. I’m relatively new by by CAAT standards, but feel I’m game for pretty much anything, but without the amazing assistance provided by Chris and Anette, our super-techs, Jen and I would be lost. There is an art to monitoring anaesthesia with nothing more than a
Leah monitors several dogs post-surgery in the 'recovery ward'
stethoscope, and Chris and Anette perfected these skills while in Botswana. Leah proved herself indispensable drawing up all required medications, and monitoring the dogs through their recovery. Our recovery ward consisted of several blankets spread out at the end of the veranda opposite to the surgery and several leashes/lassos that we’re used to catch escapees as they tried to stagger away. When the time came to close shop, we still had a handful of sleepy dogs at the clinic with no owners in sight. No problem: we’d drop them off back in the village whence they came. We followed Cephas down a maze of rutted dirt roads to a place your mind might conjure up if someone made reference to the ‘middle of nowhere’: a cluster of cinder block huts
The centre of the village where we, apprehensively, left the remaining dogs at the end of day one.
surrounding an open space, construction rubble piled in a corner, no human inhabitants to be seen awaiting the return of their pets. Cephas picked up one of the patients and I followed suit, carrying another dog to the clearing. We put them down and went back to get the other two. By the time we returned, one of the dogs had managed to get up and stagger away, and the other was doing it’s damnedest to do the same. As we drive away, we we’re all more than a little unsettled about what we’d just done. Our pets receive 5-star care compared to these dogs, but we were told not to worry- the dogs know their way home. A follow-up call the next day confirmed just this.
They were lined up at the gate when we arrived on Day 2
Day 2 on Bronwyn’s veranda broke bright and early. We picked up a few extra supplies and headed directly to the site crossing the ever-so-polite one lane bridge again with perfect manners (unlike the day before). When we arrived, we found two young boys sitting outside the gate with their recently pregnant dog- our first patient. They were followed by a seemingly endless stream of dogs of various shapes and sizes, including an 8-week old Jack
We were busy all day long- pet owners stayed and watched their pets' surgeries from beginning to end
Russell pup that waddled over from the neighbour’s, managing to duck both the electric fence separating the two yards as well as our scalpels (neutering, it seems, knows no age limits). A well-roasted chameleon we found attached to the fence in a rather crispy manner wasn’t quite as lucky. Mid-afternoon I found myself preparing to spay a 5 year old English Bull Terrier- the noblest breed known to man, (only because I happen to live with one). Both her markings
Spaying Dolly, the racist English Bull Terrier
and her demeanor reminded me greatly of our dear Olivia apart from one flaw. This dog was racist. She was born and raised in Johannesburg, but the owners maintained she had not undergone any such aversion training. She just didn’t like blacks. Since all of our patrons that day, apart from the lovely women who brought the dog to us, we’re black, this proved to be a wee bit of a problem. We had them back their Bucky into the yard, covered the windows on three sides with blankets to avoid exposing her to any ‘stimulus’, and carried on business as usual. She was a wonderful, thick-headed beast. Full of love for anyone who gave her attention typical of the breed, with obvious exceptions that we did not test. All went well with both the surgery and upon recovery the owners drove her off into the sunset. In circumstances like these, where the owners are obviously not financially strapped, a mandatory ‘donation’ is accepted to support MAWS.
At the end of the school day, the audience grew substantially
We returned to the clinic at the end of a long day, unpacked, and decided this would be a good night to explore Audi Camp (Audi is the owner’s name). This was a
The Main bar at Audi Camp
hostel/hotel/restaurant/campsite, recommended to me by a friend, which turned out to be remarkably close to the clinic, and in a roundabout way (pun firmly intended if you know the geography) directly on the way home for us. We had made arrangements earlier in the day to connect with Dr Rob Jackson, the local veterinarian, and pick his brain about veterinary medicine in Botswana. He was more than happy to connect at Audi Camp. He is one of
The shooter menu at Audi Camp: Croc Fodder, anyone?
about six private practitioners in the entire country, so he’s a busy man. He deals with both domestic and wildlife species: everything from house cats to elephants, so his work often keeps him away from his home base. In general, he approves of the work MAWS does with regard to population and disease control, but as we’ve learned through other CAAT projects, there are always those who want to take advantage of a good thing- discount veterinary services in this case. We learned there was a fine line between doing good and infringing upon someone’s livelihood.
More Soon!
