Father Patrick

Friday 28 November

Margot, Siobhan and I meet Caragh for lunch. I had heard of Caragh at a recent conference in Copenhagen, and we corresponded on the net. Caragh is an occupational therapist who works in Moshi, teaching at the hospital. She has also studied homoeopathy at the Tiverton School in Devon, England, but never practiced. She was thrilled to hear that homoeopaths were coming to Tanzania!

Caragh is full of life and cares about what really matters. We immediately like her, she is one of us. Over a very pleasant lunch she tells us of the many contacts she has lined up for us to meet. They range from doctors to social workers, with quite a few exciting possibilities. We finish with a very positive feeling.

Then Father Patrick comes to pick us up. Father Patrick is a Tanzanian catholic priest working in the Moshi area. I was referred to him by a friend of Margot's, Father Maendeleo. Both Father Mandaleleo and Father Patrick have been extremely encouraging in their letters; they urged us to come as soon as possible and told us that homoeopathy would be a gift from God for the local people.

Father Patrick is easy to talk to, he is a jovial and lovely man. He cracks a joke about Jesus on ganja. When he hears I am from Israel he is taken aback for a second, but later frequently refers to me as Jesus's brother!

Father Patrick told us about some amazing gift from his Christian forefathers, a church of some kind. We weren’t too sure what he was talking about. He then took us to see his home and parish, the Kibosho Hospital. We drove through jungle like terrain for about half an hour, following a dirt road surrounded by lots of lush growth, with little villages strewn along the way. This felt more like Africa!

When we got to the place we were 'gob smacked' (amazed in American). In the middle of the jungle, on the foothills of Kilimanjaro, was the most enormous and beautiful cathedral. It was totally unexpected and quite surrealistic. To us, at that moment, this cathedral looked to be as big as the Dublin Cathedral. It had been built over 40 years, from 1920 to 1950, partly because the construction stopped during the two world wars. No metal or cement was used in its construction. Every stone was hand carved. It was truly magnificent.

Father Patrick lovingly showed us the many beautiful stained glass windows. They had been paid for by members of the community, each window bearing the name of its donor. One had the name of Moshi children on it; they had collected and sold odds and ends for years to pay for their window. The altar was an enormous and solid slab of stone. This was resting on top of a natural rock, which the whole Cathedral had been designed around. Father Patrick explained that the rock extended at least 7 meters into the ground. Deep roots.

The whole compound is ecological. The electricity and heating are powered by natural gas, and solar ovens are used for cooking. The scene is beautiful, as are the little kids that run about the place. Both boys and girls have shortly cropped hair, they are neatly dressed and always waving and smiling. They greet Father Patrick with enthusiasm and ask for his blessing.

Above the cathedral lies the hospital. In European standards it is a small hospital, but quite big for this part of Africa, with approximately 150 beds. The grounds and rooms are clean and neat, and there is a feeling of peace and harmony. We all immediately think how good it would be to work here.

Father Patrick gives us a guided tour. Each ward had one or two small rooms. We see the Labor ward, the Orthopedic ward and the Acupuncture ward- the later was a kind of vibration machine that stimulates the feet. We all take turns standing on it, but it is so intense we can hardly walk afterwards.

Finally the time came to meet the doctors. Doctor Oscar is one of the hospitals senior doctors. He is stocky and very small in height, which everyone including himself jokes about. Father Patrick tells us that he is an extremely experienced and capable surgeon and that is the feeling you get when talking to him. We are joined by a large and motherly nun, another senior doctor at the hospital. She also looks as if she knows exactly what she is doing.

We sit talking in their room, explaining our intention of working with homoeopathy to help cure HIV/AIDS. Both doctors are courteous and friendly, but we feel a resistance underneath, a 'labadabadi' – 'Maybe later' in Swahili. But this lack of enthusiasm does not stem from medical and scientific prejudice. We quickly identify that their resistance originates from doubts about legality. We then pull out our trump card; Margot tells them about the "Tanzanian Alternative and Traditional Medicine Act of 2002". Sigsbert was very instrumental in passing this act, and in our hearts we thank him now. This act is one of the reasons I chose Tanzania out of all the countries in Africa. Not only are we legal, but the Government endorses us!

As soon as the doctors hear this, everything changes. I explain about homoeopathy, and they like what they hear. They are welcoming and want us to work there! They even start discussing which room to give us in the new ward. I arrange to meet them and other staff in two weeks, and I plan to bring Sigsbert along to help explain homoeopathy in Swahili.

As we drive home, Margot, Siobhan and I, Father Patrick tells us of a priest who has a fear of corpses. He never does funerals! We laugh, and feel happy. This hospital would be a great place to work. The energy is wonderful, the people are pleasant and positive, and most refreshing of all, they are open to homoeopathy. As doctors and scientists, these people have a practical, bullshit-free attitude that says: "if you say it works, bring it on, and we will see. And if it does, nobody will be happier then us."