Street Surgery in Mozambique

My Tent on Lake Malawi before the accident

I was on the tail end of a thirty day trip that took me from South Africa, through Botswana, parts of Zimbabwe, north through Zambia and all the way up to Malawi then back south via Mozambique which is where the accident happened. We were on our way to the market. I was in the back of the truck when I reached out with my left hand to grab the door handle so that I could close it. I was leaning on my right hand which was in the hinge of the door. Should I have grabbed the door handle myself to close the door I would have moved my right hand but that didn’t happen. My guide pushed, with all his might, the door closed not knowing my right hand was in the hinge. I tried to get my hand out of the way in time but failed. As I pulled my hand, the closing door ripped the skin back on my ring finger. I was shocked but tried not to cause a scene and walked quickly back to the lockers to retrieve my medical kit but soon realized the supplies I had were not enough to handle the job at hand. Thankfully, also on that trip was a doctor. He knew something was wrong when the small bandage I had covered my right hand with became quickly covered in blood. Calmly, he got out his medical kit which was the real deal; large and filled with supplies, not like my Walmart rinky-dink version.


The whole time this was going on in the back of the truck we were moving, my driver completely unaware of the situation in the back of his truck. Our destination was the market of Inhambane, Mozambique and it wasn’t until we reached that market that the guide realized the situation. By then, the doctor had assessed my hand. He got a needle out which he filled with a substance that he said was going to deaden my finger so that he can sew it back up but suggested we move to the street for better lighting.

I had no choice than to let him do what he deemed necessary. Looking around I was sure that his supplies were probably as good as, if not better than any I would have found in a clinic in Imhambane. Once we got street side he gave me a shot in my finger then waited a few minutes before beginning to sew up the wound, telling me I was lucky not to have torn any tendons. I had just stripped back the skin of my right ring finger about an inch.

Street Side Scenery in Zambia

A couple of stitches into the twelve I ultimately received, I realized a crowd had formed; there must have been fifteen or twenty people, mostly kids, watching us. A translator related they figured we were doing some kind of magic or were miracle workers. They could not understand how I could take that pain without so much as flinching.

The doctor gave me a pill for pain when he was finished sewing me up. Between the adrenalin of being hurt and the pill I was not feeling anything. And since we were right there at this fabulous market, there was no reason to let the moment waste so I went in shopping after I was sewn up. The group of kids that watched my street surgery followed me around that market like I was a goddess. It made shopping a bit difficult but I did end up buying a nice handmade basket that I still cherish today.  (I see you shaking your head.  Surely you know, there isn't much that can keep a girl from her shopping..., even stitches!)

That night, camping on the beach of Mozambique, I saw my first ever shooting star. I made a wish that is yet to come true. Thinking back maybe it wasn’t a shooting star after all but the visions from a girl who had street surgery in Mozambique medicated by a tourist doctor. Regardless, every day I spend in Africa is a special day – even this one! It was a day I won’t forget and if I look hard to find it, I have a scar that will always remind me of the day I had surgery on the streets of Mozambique.