Showing posts with label Nepal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nepal. Show all posts

Friday, 9 April 2021

A BMH Nepal Experience by Penny Moody

I rejoined the QA’s in 1976 and as a midwife I was almost immediately posted to BMH HongKong arriving in January 1977. Although I was very happy and thoroughly enjoyed all that HongKong had to offer I also had a yearning to experience BMH Dharan, Nepal. I therefore regularly found an excuse to visit Matron Anne Healey’s Office to request that I be considered for a 9 month posting. I don’t know if she weakened because she got fed up with seeing me but eventually I got my posting order and was privileged to serve at BMH Dharan from January to September 1978.

From the moment of my arrival I knew I was somewhere very different. The mess and hospital were very colonial in appearance, both single story and the mess was surrounded by exotic flowering trees. 
The hospital had 70 beds in total and a long roofed open sided corridor connecting the two main wards and departments. These wards were divided relatively equally, one looking after all female and young children both medical and surgical with a maternity facility attached, whilst the other looked after all the male patients both medical and surgical. The Medical team was made up of a physician, surgeon and anaesthetist plus the CO and there were 5 QA Nursing Officers to include two theatre sisters, two midwives and matron. The midwives worked on female and maternity facility and the two theatre sisters were on the male ward covering both ward and theatres. The rest of the staff were made up of local qualified and auxiliary staff and were absolutely brilliant.

Nepal only opened its borders to the outside world in the 1950’s having been a closed country since gaining independence from India and the British in 1816. This meant that even in 1970’s there had been minimal foreign influences so we were lucky to experience Nepal in a relatively preserved state. Dharan, situated in the east of the country was almost 400 miles from Kathmandu and 30 miles from the Indian border so was little effected by the influx of those on the popular hippy trail to Kathmandu and Phokara . The hospital was first established in the 1960’s to look after Gurkha soldiers serving in the recruiting and pensions establishment, those on leave and British staff and their families. However as most of us living on the Cantonment were young, well and healthy this gave the hospital the opportunity to treat quite a few of the local population. Health service facilities throughout Nepal was very limited and people travelled for days on foot, or being carried by another person often over the Himalayan foot hills, to try to get into the BMH. To insure the hospital was not overwhelmed there was a daily selection procedure at the Cantonment gate which must have been a very difficult task. Relatives were asked if they would donate a pint of blood if the sick person was admitted.

The Cantonment was quite large with military personal from different Corps and Regiments. The town of Dharan was a 20 minute walk, a great outing but with minimal shopping opportunities. There were no telephone links and most communications came by signal. We were not able to drive in case we knocked over a cow( a sacred animal) so for the occasional outings were were able to order a gari with driver which was usually a land rover. The Cantonment had its own local radio station and this would link into the world service service several times a day, our only up to date contact with the outside world except for the UK Sunday papers, usually a week late, sometimes not at all, but a wonderful link with home.



In Hong Kong we regularly worked with Gurkha mums and their families but working in BMH Dharan was where we really experienced the amazing Nepalese people . The patients were a delight when bearing in mind their living conditions, great poverty and the distances required to travel, mostly on foot for the most rudimentary of treatments before maybe being lucky enough to be admitted to our hospital. 




For the average patient there was little idea of western medications and I remember that some of the long standing TB outpatients would often swap their prescribed medication with someone else’s because in their view a different colour pill would get them better more quickly! This was particularly common amongst the older patients who probably had experience only of the local medicine man.





Sheila Cooper, our Matron, was always keen that we should make the most of our time spent in Nepal, encouraging us to go on various trips. Planning a holiday from Dharan was no simple feet. There were no travel brochures or travel agents. Firstly you needed to work out your itinerary, all gleaned from others experiences. Then a signal was sent to Kathmandu for the bookings to be made. As this was quite a challenge we often did more local things. Dharan was tucked into the base of the first Himalayan foot hill. If you kept walking in a straight line over all of these hills and mountains you would eventually arrive at the foot of Everest. At the top of the first foot hill was a ‘lodge’ belonging to the Cantonment nestled in the amongst wild rhododendrons. The lodge was very much on most people’s ‘ to do’ list not only for the experience but to be able to spend a little time in the the ‘loo with a view’.

One weekend Sheila decided we need a trip to the lodge and started planning. It would take approximately 4 hours to walk to the top, and I am talking proper Himalayan foot hill here, so embarrassingly volunteer local workers from the cantonment and our mess were employed to guide us and transport all our food and other needs for the weekend, plus be chief cook and bottle washer. Five of us set off around 6am. The climb whilst pretty arduous offered up the most spectacular views and gave us the opportunity to observe the local people on the move. The well worn dirt track would be almost the equivalent to one of our major roads in the U.K. We were to see, ‘talk’ with, and have great hilarity along the way as we constantly passed all and sundry carrying everything on their backs in baskets with a looped strap over their head. This would include families with all there personal good, or trades people with wares to sell, heavy loads of fire wood, or maybe a sick family member. Children were not excluded from this task. We were regularly invited to stop and partake of tea and have a sign language gossip and laugh.

The lodge was rustic but with the luxury of an open fire, good food, oil lamps and a little alcoholic beverage we all fell into slumber mode after the days stimulating and arduous activities. And of course there was the most important joy of using the loo with a view. Did I ever imagine that one day I would be in a remote corner of the world sat on a wooden box, legs a dangling, gazing out at a distant view of the Himalayan range with the summit of Everest summit rearing up at the back. Sadly, as is the way with these things, I think it was misty throughout our visit so I had to do with the picture hanging on the lodge wall!! But in my memory I can dream.



My time in Nepal was one of the highlights of my Army career and life. In many ways one day drifted into another but at the same time work, the mess, cantonment life and the amazing Nepalese people made it the most wonderful experience you could wish for.









Lt Col (Rtd) Penny Moody




















Friday, 2 October 2020

Rhinos, Tigers and Unexpected Encounters - by Wendy H. Jones

 


You're probably wondering what tigers and rhinos have to do with the QARANC? Quite a lot as it happens - in this tale anyway. I was very fortunate to be posted to Hong Kong whilst in the Corps and I was even more fortunate to spend a couple of weeks in Nepal. This involved the obligatory jungle trip to see if I could score a tiger sighting. The first day, we went in a jeep. No tiger. The second day, we went on an elephant. No tiger sighting. The elephant riding  was rather fabulous though. The third day we did it differently, which led to an adventure like I'd never had before and, trust me, I never want again. Here it is in story format. Names have been changed to protect the innocent but everything else is true. 


“Great day for a tiger hunt,” said Danny.

I had to agree with this. Not the hunt part of course. “Don’t be so dramatic. We’re only going to take photo’s of them.” In the jungle. On Foot. Best not to think too hard about that.

Buttery yellow sun shone from a cerulean sky as we crossed a wide, yet quiet, river in a canoe. Reaching the opposite bank we swapped the sunlight for the dark canopy of the jungle. “Do you think this was such a good idea, Danny? I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Don’t be such a woose.” So I followed the Sherpa, each step measured and quiet. I didn’t want to disturb the natives. I didn’t even want to think about the natives or what they could do to us. The natives being the wild animals who called the jungle home. The Sherpa’s voice stopped us. “Complete silence. Stay behind tree. Mating Rhinos.” There were indeed a couple of rhinos ahead, oblivious to the audience to their enthusiastic, amorous adventures.

“If notice you are going up tree.” That was reassuring. I mentally assessed my tree climbing skills.

“I know we’re in the jungle Danny, but it seems to be getting darker.”

Danny, a farmer in real life, said, “There’s a storm brewing. Look at those trees.”

Said Trees, still just a moment before, were now bending in prayer to the storm God. As the heavy tropical rain started the guide said “Hurricane. Out of jungle” and he was off like a startled gazelle, leaving us all behind.

Thoughts of tigers and Rhinos trying to find safety from the trees propelled my feet. “Come on, we’ve got to get out of here.” We ran as the storm chased us.

“The guide’s taken the blasted canoe.” I was frantic as I looked at the river in front of us, now a raging torrent. “We can’t get across that.”

“We have to. It’s that or wild animals.”

I said a quick prayer, and launched my 5’ frame into the water.

“Keep hold of me. We’ll make it together.” I was grateful for Danny’s 5’ 10 of solid muscle. Somehow we struggled through the water to reach the bank on the other side. I collapsed, oblivious to the rain battering me from every direction.

Danny pulled me up. “We can’t stop. We’ve got to get back to camp.”

“I can’t do it Danny.”

“Yes you can. There’s a dry hut waiting.”

Somehow I managed to put one foot in front of the other. How I still don’t know. However, the dangers weren’t over. We still had to navigate a small wood. The wind uprooted trees, which toppled either side of us, as fear gave wings to our feet. If this was a BFT I'd be finished before I started. 

That mud hut, when I saw it, held more comfort than any five star hotel. I was rather glad, on this particular occasion, I didn’t come face to face with that tiger. 

I write this to show that nursing in the Army was so much more than bedpans, exercises and operational tours. It was fun, it was exciting and most of all it was completely unexpected. It was a grand life indeed

I'm curious, what has been the most exciting thing that has happened unexpectedly in your life. 

As a postscript, you may be wondering if I am the only person writing for this blog. Absolutely not. There will be a wide range of posts and views, I'm just standing in this week and normal service will be resumed next week. 


About the Writer

Wendy H. Jones served as a Nursing Officer in the QARANC between 1987 and 2004 leaving with the rank of Major. She never went on an operational tour but undertook many exercises as well as serving in numerous units in both the UK and overseas. Hong Kong and Jerusalem had to be two of the highlights. Moving into nurse education, she was proud to have served as Tri-Service Head of Pre-Registration Nurse Education. This brought her full circle to where she started as a student nurse in the QARNNS. She is now an author and lives in Scotland.