At Least It's Not Swine Flu.. Thank God?

So after a few sparse but confusingly frantic reports of some odd pig-flu pandemic devastating the United States, the issue finally won a mention in international news. Not that I didn’t immediately trust the manic-depressive organ of American news media to report the story with calm, scientific accuracy, but… yeah.

Checking the CDC website tells me there have been something like 400 cases in the past week and one fatality, so it’s not quite yet in the league of the average motorcar for causing imminent death to the average healthy person. Still, the spread of the virus in a few days is almost exponential, frightening even to me, and I think to myself with a sadistic chuckle, “Well, aren’t I glad I’m safe over here in Africa.”

Of course the next day I get sick. It wasn’t so bad at first, just a chest cold, but after a nasty hot bit that took me ages in this weather to identify as a fever, it developed an unpleasant gastrointestinal aspect that felt horribly like.. the flu. Just a normal flu, though – no pigs involved. (It’s good to be in Africa.)

My first impression of Nigerians, therefore, has unexpectedly been extremely positive, as they are amazingly solicitous people. Instead of glowering at me for disturbing the peace with my hacking every few moments, the other passengers of our Maidugeri -> Jos bush-taxi bemoaned that my cold would leave me with a bad souvenir of their country. "Oh, don’t worry!" I reassured them, "It’s a Cameroonian cold."

(There has been some little rivalry between the two nations in the past, and my remark was greeted with a considerable amount of delight from my Nigerian seatmates.)

One of these, an evangelical pastor traveling home from a conference, unfortunately took a shine to me. After tolerating his repeated efforts to get my number in America and his impressive, rock-like inability to understand that I don’t have one, I used my cold and aching throat as a [legitimate] excuse not to have to talk to him anymore. I soon learned it is foolish to complain of any ailment to a Nigerian evangelist, and before we could part ways in Jos he seized my hand and began rubbing my forearm with a bit more friendly zeal than I could handle, but more energy that I could fend off. I thought we were shaking goodbye, but no. The booming voice with which he began to pontificate as I stood there with my arm trapped in his grip belatedly alerted me that he was attempting to perform a spiritual miracle on me. Oh be HEALED in the name of JESUS! he roared into the night sky. Lord Jesus, I CALL upon you to CAST out this sickness, this demon, and LET this young woman’s body be HEALED in God’s light. He didn’t forget to add a heavenly plea that I would soon be adding my miraculous testimony to the glorious ranks of those already collected for his church. It went on for some time, and I bowed my head and made a spiritual appeal of my own for liberation of a different sort, though to whom I couldn’t say.

It was a kind effort, but unfortunately I don’t think my flu-demon was a Christian ‘cause the next day I was ten times worse. Unwilling to get out of bed but unable to sleep for pain, I ended up reading the only book to be had in the hostel room, a Gideon’s Bible. It makes for interesting reading and I ended up nosing through some random juicy bits, including the entire Book of Revelations. I was fascinated to discover that, thanks to Johnny Cash, I already know whole chunks of this by heart. One of the four beasts..

Oh well, at least it ain’t swine flu, right?? If I gotta get sick, thank God I’m in Africa.. though I could have done without the exorcism.