Dear colleague,
Influenza outbreak in hospital and long term facilities have been associated with low vaccination rate among Health Care Workers. In addition, higher vaccination level among staffs has been associated with a lower incidence of nosocomial influenza cases.
Our last year Flu camping in collaboration with nursing and your support increased the coverage from 48% to more than 75%.
Your usual support this year is needed and highly appreciated to achieve the 100% coverage level among health care workers.
Please fight with us against Flu and get your Flu Vaccination to protect your self, your family and your patients.
Sincerely
Flu Camping Coordinator
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Some things that have surprised me about Coo.
Some things that have surprised me about Coo.
• The small community of Westerners. There’s approx. 1 Westerner in each department within the hospital, including the administration teams where I sit. The majority (80-90% I would guess) of staff are from the Philippines.
• The management structure within the hospital. I don’t think it’s unique to the hospital environment; rather it’s a Coo or Arab style of “rubbish rolling down hill” and role titles meaning much more than education, experience or ability. Last week one of my superiors used some entirely false ‘facts’ about my workload to imply that I was lazy even though he knew exactly what I’d been working on. Some of my female colleagues told me that it was a common event from management to encourage staff to work harder. I’ll learn to not take some comments personally and I’ve been told it’s not clever to respond or question.
• 25.12 songs from a car at full-volume in the desert.
• Doo Homies who seem to believe that the louder your car horn and the further you can hang out of the car window at full-speed, the cooler you are. I hadn’t seen this fascinating group of boys until last night. It shocked me. The veiled girls in the area reportedly send their pictures (minus the veil) to the boys via Bluetooth on their mobiles.
• The weather. NO ONE, and I mean no one told me that it gets to 0 degrees Celsius during the day here during winter. Most of the girls that arrived with me didn’t even bring a long-sleeve jumper. It’s currently a very pleasant mid-high 20s most days, but apparently, it will drop dramatically within the next month. Brrr.
• The difficulty of obtaining a sick-certificate for work. If you wake up feeling too unwell to go to work, you must:
* Go to work and obtain a pink slip from your director requesting permission to visit the Employee Health Clinic (a 20min walk away).
* Go to the ‘zoo’ of the Employee Health Clinic, wait for an hour or so until they can see you.
* Obtain your sick certificate (maximum 2 days it seems).
* Return to your director with the slip, at which point you can go home to bed. The process alone would make me sick. Imagine if you were vomiting……or worse?!
One of my colleagues was very unwell the other day and a very senior exec was in a bad mood so refused to sign the pink slip!
* Yesterday I was diagnosed with pneumonia and a throat infection. The Dr looked at me as if I was a few sheep short of a paddock when I requested sick leave. Don't get me started on this discussion.
• The amount of bullying that goes on between the majority expats and westerners. Everyone knows someone who has left within 3 months of arrival primarily due to being bullied out of their jobs. I’ve met two women already who have broken their contracts and are departing soon. Two of the women I arrived with are considering it. The bullying takes many forms, but the most common one seems to be reporting falsehoods to superiors about another employee. The managers reportedly always take the first report as the true one, rather than seeking the actual truth.
• The litter. People seem to think nothing of dumping rubbish anywhere. Cans and food bags are thrown out of car windows regularly.
• The toddlers who sit on the driver’s lap while he steers the car with one hand and talks on his mobile with the other.
• The staring. I’d expected some staring since my hair is generally uncovered and I don’t look Arab (!), but certainly not on the scale that I’ve experienced, let alone from some Western men. I often cover my hair and face to avoid the stares. I know that’s not why women wear a veil here, but I’m definitely warming to the idea.
• The neon lights. The streets are at least 8 lanes wide and every store is lit up like a **** tree with the store name, advertisements etc. Similar to Times Square but all over the city.
• The inconsistencies in speed-of-action. The gardeners at the hospital are capable of trimming the plants and bushes every few days and replacing all the flower-beds every season (yes, replacing) like clock-work, but the builders have been constructing a new compound and recreation centre for 2 years, and my bank or mobile service provider frequently tell me casually to come back tomorrow insha’allah (God willing).
• That permanent markers (textas or felt-tip pens) would be known here as Fellow Masters. LOL.
• The feral cats. They’re everywhere! I’ve found a very friendly one who wraps itself around my leg when I see it and purrs like a car. Perhaps it belongs to someone.
• That I would have so much difficult finding hommus here. What is the first food you think of when you think of the Middle East? I think it’s actually impossible to find it fresh here in the supermarkets (apart from the occasional ‘instant meal’ packet). You can buy it canned, but most people seem to have their maids make it fresh. I’ve been told to visit the Lebanese market but haven’t yet had time. So tomorrow is hummus making day. I explained the variety and quantity of dips in Australian/NZ supermarkets to Norah and she couldn’t understand it and seem surprised that we would eat hommus.
• That the only thing that I’d wish I had brought with me from home, so far, is soft tissues and coffee bags. Where’s the Kleenex Aloe Vera when I need it?? I’ve got the standard new-arrival cold and it is nasty. We got offered Nescafe in a top high-end restaurant the other night :D.
• That the natives would be so determined to be correct and not lose face that they would argue daily that their English is correct and ours (Canadian Glenda’s and mine) is not. One of my superiors was so determined last week that I was wrong about the plural for leave when referring to sick leave, annual leave, holiday leave etc. I explained that it wasn’t leaves as this refers to more than one leaf on a plant. He initially acted surprised and agreed to let me change the 50 or so ‘leaves’ in the handbook we were publishing. Two days later he called me into his office and said that he was convinced that he’d seen leaves written somewhere, and perhaps it was because I wasn’t experienced at using U.S. English. I agreed to check with a U.S. staff member who laughed out loud and said something to the effect of, “they’re so stupid”. When I told my boss that she’d agreed with me he paused, then looked up www.dictionary.com that was unable to provide him with a plural. So he went to some U.S. dictionary site that still couldn’t confirm my inaccuracy. He then phoned the Associate Director of Nursing (an Irish woman) who agreed with me also. At that point, when steam was building within my orifices, the fire alarm went off. Since we write the policies that direct employees to leave the building when an alarm rings, I was a little surprised to see only two members of my team outside. My boss refused as he was too busy. During the evacuation I met a native woman who was new to the hospital. She had a strong American accent and excellent English. I asked her where’d learnt English and she said she was a TV addict! She agreed that the plural was leave. Enough said.
• The small community of Westerners. There’s approx. 1 Westerner in each department within the hospital, including the administration teams where I sit. The majority (80-90% I would guess) of staff are from the Philippines.
• The management structure within the hospital. I don’t think it’s unique to the hospital environment; rather it’s a Coo or Arab style of “rubbish rolling down hill” and role titles meaning much more than education, experience or ability. Last week one of my superiors used some entirely false ‘facts’ about my workload to imply that I was lazy even though he knew exactly what I’d been working on. Some of my female colleagues told me that it was a common event from management to encourage staff to work harder. I’ll learn to not take some comments personally and I’ve been told it’s not clever to respond or question.
• 25.12 songs from a car at full-volume in the desert.
• Doo Homies who seem to believe that the louder your car horn and the further you can hang out of the car window at full-speed, the cooler you are. I hadn’t seen this fascinating group of boys until last night. It shocked me. The veiled girls in the area reportedly send their pictures (minus the veil) to the boys via Bluetooth on their mobiles.
• The weather. NO ONE, and I mean no one told me that it gets to 0 degrees Celsius during the day here during winter. Most of the girls that arrived with me didn’t even bring a long-sleeve jumper. It’s currently a very pleasant mid-high 20s most days, but apparently, it will drop dramatically within the next month. Brrr.
• The difficulty of obtaining a sick-certificate for work. If you wake up feeling too unwell to go to work, you must:
* Go to work and obtain a pink slip from your director requesting permission to visit the Employee Health Clinic (a 20min walk away).
* Go to the ‘zoo’ of the Employee Health Clinic, wait for an hour or so until they can see you.
* Obtain your sick certificate (maximum 2 days it seems).
* Return to your director with the slip, at which point you can go home to bed. The process alone would make me sick. Imagine if you were vomiting……or worse?!
One of my colleagues was very unwell the other day and a very senior exec was in a bad mood so refused to sign the pink slip!
* Yesterday I was diagnosed with pneumonia and a throat infection. The Dr looked at me as if I was a few sheep short of a paddock when I requested sick leave. Don't get me started on this discussion.
• The amount of bullying that goes on between the majority expats and westerners. Everyone knows someone who has left within 3 months of arrival primarily due to being bullied out of their jobs. I’ve met two women already who have broken their contracts and are departing soon. Two of the women I arrived with are considering it. The bullying takes many forms, but the most common one seems to be reporting falsehoods to superiors about another employee. The managers reportedly always take the first report as the true one, rather than seeking the actual truth.
• The litter. People seem to think nothing of dumping rubbish anywhere. Cans and food bags are thrown out of car windows regularly.
• The toddlers who sit on the driver’s lap while he steers the car with one hand and talks on his mobile with the other.
• The staring. I’d expected some staring since my hair is generally uncovered and I don’t look Arab (!), but certainly not on the scale that I’ve experienced, let alone from some Western men. I often cover my hair and face to avoid the stares. I know that’s not why women wear a veil here, but I’m definitely warming to the idea.
• The neon lights. The streets are at least 8 lanes wide and every store is lit up like a **** tree with the store name, advertisements etc. Similar to Times Square but all over the city.
• The inconsistencies in speed-of-action. The gardeners at the hospital are capable of trimming the plants and bushes every few days and replacing all the flower-beds every season (yes, replacing) like clock-work, but the builders have been constructing a new compound and recreation centre for 2 years, and my bank or mobile service provider frequently tell me casually to come back tomorrow insha’allah (God willing).
• That permanent markers (textas or felt-tip pens) would be known here as Fellow Masters. LOL.
• The feral cats. They’re everywhere! I’ve found a very friendly one who wraps itself around my leg when I see it and purrs like a car. Perhaps it belongs to someone.
• That I would have so much difficult finding hommus here. What is the first food you think of when you think of the Middle East? I think it’s actually impossible to find it fresh here in the supermarkets (apart from the occasional ‘instant meal’ packet). You can buy it canned, but most people seem to have their maids make it fresh. I’ve been told to visit the Lebanese market but haven’t yet had time. So tomorrow is hummus making day. I explained the variety and quantity of dips in Australian/NZ supermarkets to Norah and she couldn’t understand it and seem surprised that we would eat hommus.
• That the only thing that I’d wish I had brought with me from home, so far, is soft tissues and coffee bags. Where’s the Kleenex Aloe Vera when I need it?? I’ve got the standard new-arrival cold and it is nasty. We got offered Nescafe in a top high-end restaurant the other night :D.
• That the natives would be so determined to be correct and not lose face that they would argue daily that their English is correct and ours (Canadian Glenda’s and mine) is not. One of my superiors was so determined last week that I was wrong about the plural for leave when referring to sick leave, annual leave, holiday leave etc. I explained that it wasn’t leaves as this refers to more than one leaf on a plant. He initially acted surprised and agreed to let me change the 50 or so ‘leaves’ in the handbook we were publishing. Two days later he called me into his office and said that he was convinced that he’d seen leaves written somewhere, and perhaps it was because I wasn’t experienced at using U.S. English. I agreed to check with a U.S. staff member who laughed out loud and said something to the effect of, “they’re so stupid”. When I told my boss that she’d agreed with me he paused, then looked up www.dictionary.com that was unable to provide him with a plural. So he went to some U.S. dictionary site that still couldn’t confirm my inaccuracy. He then phoned the Associate Director of Nursing (an Irish woman) who agreed with me also. At that point, when steam was building within my orifices, the fire alarm went off. Since we write the policies that direct employees to leave the building when an alarm rings, I was a little surprised to see only two members of my team outside. My boss refused as he was too busy. During the evacuation I met a native woman who was new to the hospital. She had a strong American accent and excellent English. I asked her where’d learnt English and she said she was a TV addict! She agreed that the plural was leave. Enough said.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Arabic Lessons
One of the significant reasons I came to this far-away land was to learn Arabic. I responded a few weeks ago to an online ad for an English tutor for a 9yo boy. I didn’t particularly want to teach outside of work time, but I thought it would be a good way to get to know a native family. There was an English-speaking native acting as the liaison person between the family, and me. Ultimately they employed a professional teacher, however, the situation worked out very well for me al hamdu lilaa (a very common phrase here meaning ‘All Praise Be to God’). The liaison man, Abdulaziz, phoned me and summarised that I was looking for something to do because I was lonely. Very sweet…..I think, but not exactly(!) the reason. After a mild panic that he was trying to flirt (encouraged by squeals and horror stories from fellow foreigners here), he went on to suggest that I might like to teach his 28yo sister English, and in return, she’ll teach me Arabic (she’s a professional Arabic teacher but can’t work due to a medical condition). I was thrilled to be offered such a wonderful opportunity, so quickly agreed and commenced thrice-weekly lessons last week (yes, I had expected weekly but I guess she’s eager and I’ve got the time). I’m only paying the taxi fare which is approx. $25 per lesson so very cheap for the experience.
My teacher’s name is Norah and she has adorable 5yo son named Mishael who constantly interrupts our classes, but is beginning to say Hello and recite the alphabet in English to me. It’s very exciting for me to observe and witness a traditional national home, behaviour and incredible hospitality. The family have very kindly bought the expensive textbooks we’re each using (mine doesn’t have a word of English in it, so my recognition of Arabic script has improved very quickly!). Abdulaziz (Norah’s brother) like’s to speak English, so phones me on a semi-regular basis to ask how the classes are going, get updates on his sister’s progress and offer me more books/cd-roms. Norah is incredible patient and hospitable. She even laughs when I spit all over the table while attempting to pronounce the sounds accurately. She (well, her maid) provides me with an interesting coffee-based drink (lightly roasted with cardamon) and lovely sweet tea each week, and hasn’t let me go home without some delectable sweet food yet. I made the mistake of trying to pour her coffee once while she was dealing with Mishael. The poor girl was very embarrassed and I had to explain that I wasn’t meaning to insult her, and that it would be considered a kindness in Australia. Oops. I’m still learning to pick up food and cups with my right hand only. Every time I make a mistake now I notice, so I guess it’ll sink in eventually.
My teacher’s name is Norah and she has adorable 5yo son named Mishael who constantly interrupts our classes, but is beginning to say Hello and recite the alphabet in English to me. It’s very exciting for me to observe and witness a traditional national home, behaviour and incredible hospitality. The family have very kindly bought the expensive textbooks we’re each using (mine doesn’t have a word of English in it, so my recognition of Arabic script has improved very quickly!). Abdulaziz (Norah’s brother) like’s to speak English, so phones me on a semi-regular basis to ask how the classes are going, get updates on his sister’s progress and offer me more books/cd-roms. Norah is incredible patient and hospitable. She even laughs when I spit all over the table while attempting to pronounce the sounds accurately. She (well, her maid) provides me with an interesting coffee-based drink (lightly roasted with cardamon) and lovely sweet tea each week, and hasn’t let me go home without some delectable sweet food yet. I made the mistake of trying to pour her coffee once while she was dealing with Mishael. The poor girl was very embarrassed and I had to explain that I wasn’t meaning to insult her, and that it would be considered a kindness in Australia. Oops. I’m still learning to pick up food and cups with my right hand only. Every time I make a mistake now I notice, so I guess it’ll sink in eventually.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
First Desert Adventure and some 25.12 songs.
The hospital compound recreation centre organises daily trips to various places; souks, shopping centres and the diplomatic quarter for example. They also coordinate tourist adventures to the desert on a regular basis, and occasional long-weekend trips to other parts of the country.
We (a group of the new arrivals) joined the trip to Red Sands, a group of sand dunes approximately an hour from the compound, and then to the Hidden Valley, a desert park not far from the first stop. To be honest, I was a bit surprised by the awe I was expected to offer for…….sand. Yes there was lots of it, and it was shaped nicely, but it does look fairly similar to the sand we have in the southern hemisphere, and there’s something a little awkward about climbing them in a ankle-length flowing black dress. The scenery actually reminded me a great deal of our trip to Arizona in 1997. There were a few families hooning over the dunes on 4-wheel bikes, which looked like a lot of fun, and a large group of people attempting to scale the bigger steeper dunes in their 4WDs. I discovered that walking up the dunes is a little tougher on the calves and quads than an incline on the treadmill.
The Hidden Valley was a little more impressive than the first stop as it was a large gorge between two very tall cliff faces. The keener members of our group (I wasn’t one) climbed one of the faces and reported fabulous views. I was happy to spend my time trying to find them through the viewfinder of my camera from the ground. We also amused ourselves by trying to find a bush big enough to squat behind that didn’t stab our behinds with spiky needles.
The rec centre prepared a sumptuous feast for us on a custom-built BBQ. The night cooled quickly and they made a massive bonfire for us to huddle around. A car full of foreigners seemed to think that we would enjoy their music if they parked their car near the bonfire, turned it up loud and opened all the doors to make sure everyone in a 2km radius could hear. It was bearable for a while – Britney Spears, Neil Sedaka, Backstreet Boys and cheesy love-songs, but to my surprise, the music suddenly turned to carols. Not carols in disguise and not carols with different words. Loud cheery carols of both the Mariah Carey and King’s College Choir varieties. They seemed a little out of place in woop-woop Coodoo gorge in early November around a bonfire.
We (a group of the new arrivals) joined the trip to Red Sands, a group of sand dunes approximately an hour from the compound, and then to the Hidden Valley, a desert park not far from the first stop. To be honest, I was a bit surprised by the awe I was expected to offer for…….sand. Yes there was lots of it, and it was shaped nicely, but it does look fairly similar to the sand we have in the southern hemisphere, and there’s something a little awkward about climbing them in a ankle-length flowing black dress. The scenery actually reminded me a great deal of our trip to Arizona in 1997. There were a few families hooning over the dunes on 4-wheel bikes, which looked like a lot of fun, and a large group of people attempting to scale the bigger steeper dunes in their 4WDs. I discovered that walking up the dunes is a little tougher on the calves and quads than an incline on the treadmill.
The Hidden Valley was a little more impressive than the first stop as it was a large gorge between two very tall cliff faces. The keener members of our group (I wasn’t one) climbed one of the faces and reported fabulous views. I was happy to spend my time trying to find them through the viewfinder of my camera from the ground. We also amused ourselves by trying to find a bush big enough to squat behind that didn’t stab our behinds with spiky needles.
The rec centre prepared a sumptuous feast for us on a custom-built BBQ. The night cooled quickly and they made a massive bonfire for us to huddle around. A car full of foreigners seemed to think that we would enjoy their music if they parked their car near the bonfire, turned it up loud and opened all the doors to make sure everyone in a 2km radius could hear. It was bearable for a while – Britney Spears, Neil Sedaka, Backstreet Boys and cheesy love-songs, but to my surprise, the music suddenly turned to carols. Not carols in disguise and not carols with different words. Loud cheery carols of both the Mariah Carey and King’s College Choir varieties. They seemed a little out of place in woop-woop Coodoo gorge in early November around a bonfire.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
NZ Embassy Brunch; the way to avoid making friends.
Today I was the only member of the new arrivals to attend the NZ Embassy brunch. I somehow scored the invitation via email before I’d even left NZ, long before any of the others had even told the embassy that they are here. I was feeling under a bit of pressure from the other newbies to make new friends, particularly those who live outside our compound, can link us into social events and have good-looking male friends, but I bravely took on the challenge. I shared a taxi with a fellow kiwi-lass who is due to return home in a month, and an Irish gent who I’ve nicknamed “embassy-tart”. He’s been here in Doo for 6 years. He has never attend the Irish embassy or any of their functions but seems to get a ticket to all events at the NZ, Australian, South African and US embassies, even those that are sold out an hour after release (a fairly common occurrence here I note) and when most natives have been unable to get tickets. He was fairly worse-for-wear at 9:30am this morning after attending a Halloween ball at the US embassy last night.
I was grateful to have instant friends at the function as it ended up not being particularly social. We sat at our table the entire day and only moved to replenish our drinks (yes, those not allowed elsewhere in Doo) and plates (including the forbidden food and many other delights). Two kiwi blokes and their respective Irish and Australian wives joined us. I managed to offend one of the kiwis and both women by the end of the day, so it was a classy introduction to society in Codoo.
I told one of the men that he might know my Dad from high school, suggesting by implication that he was in a similar age bracket. That went down like a ton of bricks and resulted in regular comments during the day about his old-man complaints and need for a drink from my drinks card. Later, Canon in D was playing and while we discussed it, I noted that it was used commonly for the bride walking down the aisle at weddings. Both women turned and said in a rather flushed and teasing-tone that it certainly HADN’T been common when they were married. I’d barely recovered from that when I commented on one of the lady’s nails and asked where she had them done. She asked if I was suggesting they looked fake. Hmm, is there a good answer to that? Of course I was, but nice-fake! I think I’ll be missing from the party lists for a while. Not exactly what the newbies had hoped for. Or maybe they’ll invite me back as the entertainment.
The other interesting part of the day was that it rained, actually, spat large drops. Not exactly what the outdoor-brunch organisers were expecting. Until last week, it hadn’t rained since April 2007!! It’s rained twice in my first week here. Go figure. Postscript: It's now rained at least once a day most of the last week. I'm convinced I brought it with me.
I end with the highlight of my day. Driving home, and this is what we saw
……apparently, the Bedu still mistrust motor vehicles so they often take a camel with them on journeys in case the vehicle breaks down!
I was grateful to have instant friends at the function as it ended up not being particularly social. We sat at our table the entire day and only moved to replenish our drinks (yes, those not allowed elsewhere in Doo) and plates (including the forbidden food and many other delights). Two kiwi blokes and their respective Irish and Australian wives joined us. I managed to offend one of the kiwis and both women by the end of the day, so it was a classy introduction to society in Codoo.
I told one of the men that he might know my Dad from high school, suggesting by implication that he was in a similar age bracket. That went down like a ton of bricks and resulted in regular comments during the day about his old-man complaints and need for a drink from my drinks card. Later, Canon in D was playing and while we discussed it, I noted that it was used commonly for the bride walking down the aisle at weddings. Both women turned and said in a rather flushed and teasing-tone that it certainly HADN’T been common when they were married. I’d barely recovered from that when I commented on one of the lady’s nails and asked where she had them done. She asked if I was suggesting they looked fake. Hmm, is there a good answer to that? Of course I was, but nice-fake! I think I’ll be missing from the party lists for a while. Not exactly what the newbies had hoped for. Or maybe they’ll invite me back as the entertainment.
The other interesting part of the day was that it rained, actually, spat large drops. Not exactly what the outdoor-brunch organisers were expecting. Until last week, it hadn’t rained since April 2007!! It’s rained twice in my first week here. Go figure. Postscript: It's now rained at least once a day most of the last week. I'm convinced I brought it with me.
I end with the highlight of my day. Driving home, and this is what we saw
……apparently, the Bedu still mistrust motor vehicles so they often take a camel with them on journeys in case the vehicle breaks down!
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