Africa's not for Sissies

Chapter 2: Needles and Sex

"A lot of needles?" The words squeaked out at such an unnatural pitch I hardly recognized my own voice. My mouth went dry. Needles were the reason I avoided doctors.

"Yes. You're going to need multiple vaccinations."

I took a gulp of air. "How many is a lot of needles?"

"Hmmm, let's see..." the doctor continued, oblivious to the fact I was now feeling faint. Her face was buried in the form I had just completed in the reception area. It was several pages long and asked about my medical history, my family's medical history, what type of accommodation I planned to use (from bush camping to 5-star hotel), if I would be visiting rural areas, and finally to list every country I planned to visit. As her eyes moved down the list I saw them widen and low guttural sounds escaped her lips. "Hmmm, uh-hmmm, hmmm, oh! Mm-hmmm!" She finished with a loud "hmmph!" and looked up at me with raised eyebrows. "That's a lot of countries."

"Uh-hmmm," I said. I wasn't sure I would visit all of them, or any of them even, aside from South Africa where we planned to start, and Malawi – Ammon's birth country, but we were considering traveling the entire "Cape to Cairo" route to Egypt, so Ammon insisted we list every country in between, just to be safe. I had no idea where we might end up. "We're going backpacking." I said. "We're not going on an organized tour. We're going to make it up as we go. That's what backpackers do." I realized I was parroting the very words Ammon had said to me in the waiting room just moments before. An organized tour would make us tourists, and that was the last thing Ammon wanted to be.

The doctor wasn't the first person who made me feel like I was crazy to be considering such a trip. The travel agent we'd visited earlier in the week to buy our flight tickets had tried to convince us to go on an organized "African safari."

"You can't just hop on a jet and fly there," she had said.

"Why not?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I suppose you could, but you probably wouldn't come back."

"Wouldn't come baaaaaack?" My breath rushed out so fast that "back" was just a breathless squeal.

"The potential health risks scare away even the most hardened travelers." She leaned closer. "Didn't you say this would be your first trip overseas?"

"I was born there," Ammon said, "but I was only a baby when I left."

"What health risks?" I asked.

She leaned back in her chair and whistled out her breath. "Just everything from diarrhea to several horrible and possibly fatal diseases." She paused a moment to allow her words to sink in before leaning closer again. "Some don't even have vaccines. Are you sure I can't interest you in an African safari? It's much safer. Isn't that worth the extra expense? Can you really put a cost on your safety?"

Ammon crossed his arms. "We're going backpacking. We're not tourists." Ammon always pronounced 'tourist' like it was a bad word.

"Of course you're not, but how are you going to get around? Public transportation is limited. When it's available, it's usually uncomfortable, inconvenient, unpredictable – and often dangerous. You have to be prepared for the possibility of becoming stranded, separated from your possessions, or worse. Are you prepared for that?"

"No!" I said.

"Yes!" Ammon said. "We'll be fine."

She shook her head in resignation. "OK, but you're going to need multiple immunizations. I shouldn't even sell you a ticket until you've had them. Some countries will not even allow you entry without proof of vaccination. You'll need to visit a travel clinic before you go."