The mould takes hold

Outdoor adventure Mongolia-style

In my first few years out of university I worked for Outward Bound in South Africa – for part of that time in a misty little hamlet called Hogsback, in the Eastern Cape mountains. This involved using experiential outdoor education to teach young people life skills and, in the case of youth at risk, to help them reintegrate with their families and communities. But today I’m here to speak about our living conditions, not the benefits of the programmes...

For most of my just-over two years at the outdoor programme I called a tent home. But we did have rustic bases, which we used when we weren’t out with students. At our coastal centre the instructors were housed in little rondavels, up on the Free State highlands we used an abandoned farmhouse, while in Hogsback we rented an old house with several outbuildings. And here I come to my point: There weren’t enough bedrooms inside the house, and so I was given a small wooden hut outside. I didn’t really mind because most of the time I was out with the groups. But then I started falling ill. I found that I had a constant cough and, to cut a long story short, I developed allergies to pretty much everything one could be allergic to. If I drank milk my throat would close up; if I slept on a down pillow, likewise...

What the owners of the house hadn’t told us was that the shack had been used for several things previously. It had housed pigeons, held a beer still and it had served as a garden shed – for tools, insecticides and whatever else one uses in a garden. I had never been allergic a day in my life, but over time the tiny, unseen mould, spores and damp crept into my system, pretty much incapacitating me.

Obviously I moved out, and ultimately I had to leave Hogsback, but eventually my body recovered. That was 15 years ago. But now it’s back. With a vengeance. 

I feel constantly as if I have tar or glue in my lungs, I don’t have the energy to get up and write on the board at school, I cough until the early hours of the morning, and none of the medication I’ve tried so far has helped. Today I was told to make sure I didn’t take more than 5ml of a bronchodilator I was given because “it can cause heart palpitations.” I guess I’ll be spending Valentine’s Day at the hospital for tests... 

How’s this possible, I ask myself? I moved into a newly-built place – clean, and painted and mould-free – over a year ago. But here’s the rub: Madagascar has a way of hitting foreigners – in so many ways. We don’t have immunity against its bugs, against its weather or against its cheap and nasty building methods. 

Malagasies use a lot of wood in their homes – because it’s inexpensive – but often they don’t have time to wait for the wood to dry or cure properly; damp-proofing in the floors and lower walls costs too much; bricks are largely home-made and insufficiently baked; cement is not mixed correctly; my house is surrounded by ramshackle homes that have crept up around it, choking the sun ... These all combine as a perfect recipe for mould to take hold. What's next? Time will tell...

Thanks to all those who have asked how I’m doing. I’m not downcast. I’m not feeling defeated (except in Call of Duty, where my lack of energy is appreciably evident)... I wouldn’t mind breathing normally and enjoying a decent night's sleep sometime soon, though... Prayer is always appreciated. I’ll write again when I can.