Jamie-girl meets a dog

Jamie-girl, here… Well everyone, I’ve done it once again. Why are menacing insects and animals so attracted to me? I sure would like to figure it out. I guess the stories I get to tell because of the attention I receive from them are my compensation (as long as my encounters aren’t too serious). In New Zealand, it was a spider. In Swaziland, it was a dog.
I’ve been able to run as much as I want here in Swaziland, which has been a pleasant surprise. I was expecting to give it up or at least be very restricted in my exercise routine because women don’t really do any recreational sports here—or even wear pants for that matter! In the rural communities, traditional dress for the ladies is long skirts and dresses. However, my training community—and now, my permanent community—has been receptive to my habit of jogging. I have actually met several people rather quickly because I am jogging all over the countryside and people inevitably want me to stop and talk to them. As you can imagine, I am quite a strange sight—a white girl in trousers running for no apparent reason other than to "be healthy." The concept is foreign to them—life here is strenuous enough. There is no need for additional activity. The women in particular are tirelessly performing chores as well as shouldering the responsibility of raising their children. Many mothers carry their young child on their back as they walk long distances to fetch 25L containers of water or balance large loads on their heads. I’m in awe of their physical strength.
Oh, I should briefly explain the role of dogs in Swaziland. Rural families keep dogs for protection and security, not as pets. The concept of an animal owned for companionship is not part of a Swazi’s relationship with their animals; they are food or safety or money. Dogs are raised to guard valuable assets, like maize, or keep strangers away. Anyway, early in our pre-service training, I was on one of my afternoon jogs. In the past, curious dogs followed me along their fence for a short distance, but ultimately returned to their naps in the sun. This time, as I was passing a couple of dogs from a homestead, they barked and paralleled me along their fence as usual, but instead of losing interest, they found a hole in their fence and continued to pursue me. One of them nipped at my feet and bit my leg. The damage wasn’t very bad—a couple of teeth broke the skin and a swollen bruise surrounded the area. It was bleeding, but didn’t require stitches. However minor the assault was, this was a problem. I was worried about rabies. It is not uncommon to encounter dogs in the rural areas that have not received their shots. I tried to ask the family if their dog had gotten its treatment, but it was unclear, most likely no.
As luck would have it, we were scheduled to begin our series of rabies immunizations the next day. Ugh! Even if we had already started the series, an actual bite from an animal suspected of having rabies requires an additional immuno-globulin injection directly into the wound within 24 hours. Like I said, lucky me. I spoke with our medical officer and a Peace Corps vehicle was sent immediately to pick me up and take me to Mbabane for treatment. Jamie tagged along for support and the possibility of spending the night in a nice B & B called Gloria’s that we had already heard wonderful things about from the group ahead of us (some rumors about hot showers and TV).
Upon arriving at the hospital, we learned that apparently the immuno-globulin injection is scarce in Swaziland. In fact, a vial of it couldn’t readily be located. Our medical officer used all her connections to track down the elusive serum. At one point there was even talk of crossing the border into South Africa if circumstances didn’t materialize in Swaziland. This would have been a bit complicated since our government-issued passports were still being processed for work visas and my personal passport didn’t have an entry stamp for Swaziland. Fortunately, it didn’t come to that worst-case scenario. A couple of vials were discovered and I was scheduled to get treatment the next day. Let me just say, I have been poked a number of times for different immunizations—several in the few weeks prior to this incident—but nothing compares to receiving an injection directly into an open wound. The doctor had to massage it into the area too. I didn’t look, but I could feel my leg twitching even though the doctor was trying to be as gentle as possible. In addition to the immuno-globulin shot, I had to go for 5 or 6 more rabies injections over the next several weeks. I can honestly say I don’t flinch anymore when a needle is being pointed into my arm. I learned one of my earliest Swazi lessons: it is a good idea to carry rocks or a big stick when running to scare the dogs. I have a scar to prove it.