Chapter 11. Hospital
Present day. Kigoma Missionary Baptist Hospital. Kigoma, Tanzania.
Dr. Ali el-Mohammed Beladar was a graduate of University of Dar es Salaam Medical School. Dar es Salaam was the largest city in Tanzania. Although Dr. Beladar was a Muslim, he did not mind working at a hospital with a Christian mission. Dr. Beladar cared about his patients. What religion they practiced was none of his concern. Tall, thin and handsome, with wire-rim glasses, Dr. Beladar was like many doctors--intelligent, cool under pressure, unemotional, able to sleep only four hours a day, and short on ebullient personality. He was a specialist in emergency medicine, and handled the very worst which Tanzania's deserts, jungles and mosquitos had to dish out. He had treated many patients with AIDS, a disease which was unfortunately all too prevalent in Tanzania. Yellow fever, malaria, cancer, gunshot wounds--he had seen it all. At least he thought he had seen it all, until this morning.
When the frantic parents brought the two little boys in, the Emergency Room Admitting Nurse, Dr. Beladar's current girlfriend, Marietta Gondube, was quick to realize the boys had no simple flu. Their eyes looked transfixed like zombies. For that matter, the boys acted like zombies. They seemed distracted and "out of it," like they were thinking of something far, far away. Both of their noses continued to bleed out of both nostrils, and the blood looked shinier than normal. Nurse Gondube tried to stop the blood by having the boys lie down and lean back, while she pressed wet cloths against their nose cartilage and their gums. It did not seem to be working. The washcloths were filling up with shiny red blood. The boys' skin was swollen with dark purple splotches. But the thing that scared Nurse Gondube most was the red eyes. The whites of both of the boys' eyes were pinkish red, as if they were bleeding out through their eyes. She had never seen anything like it. She quickly put both boys on wheeled gurneys and rolled them into a separate isolation room, yelling for an orderly to fetch Dr. Beladar. She was taking Dogo's temperature when Dr. Beladar walked in.
"What do we have, Marietta?"
"Dr. Beladar, this one here is Akili. He is twelve. His brother is Dogo, who is ten. They report symptoms of back ache beginning this morning. They went to work with their father, gradually got worse during the day, and both began vomiting. The mother reports their vomit to be very dark, like they are coughing up blood. As they drove to the hospital, the boys got worse. Akili has a temperature of 104. Dogo is 103. The mother explains that the boys were attacked by cave bats about seven days ago. In fact, the father has one of the bats who bit the child in a cage out in the hall, in case you wanted to see it. I told him I did not think that would be necessary."
"Any abdominal pain reported?" The nurse shook her head no. Dr. Beladar rubbed Dogo's stomach.
"Does this hurt?" he asked. Dogo did not respond, but it looked like he was in pain.
"Rabies usually takes about two months, not ten days, although there have been reported cases in which the virus took over in days rather than months." The boys' mother and father came into the room.
"Doctor, do you know what it is?" asked the mother.
"Have either of the boys had hallucinations?"
"No."
"Have they had strange phobias, like a fear of air or water?"
Neema looked at Joseph quizzically, as if to say, "Is this guy a real doctor?" They did not know that hallucinations and phobias to air and water were sometimes linked with rabies.
"No, Doctor, nothing like that."
Dr. Beladar was wondering why the boys' noses kept bleeding.
"Did either of them get hit in the nose?"
"No," said Neema.
"Have they ever gotten nosebleeds before?"
"No,” said Neema.
Dr. Beladar had also never seen eyes that red before.
"Are they allergic to anything?"
"Not that I know of," said Neema. Joseph looked at his boys, shaking his head, clearly worried.
"Nurse, let's get some blood samples from the boys right away."
Nurse Gondube wrapped a brown rubber cord around Dogo's wrist, took a syringe and prepared to take some blood. As soon as she stuck in the needle, blood shot out from the puncture mark. The nurse was clearly surprised and moved back a step. Just then, Dogo's eyes began rolling around in the back of his head, he groaned loudly, and he bent over the edge of the bed. The nurse went to hold him so he would not fall out of the bed, but just as she caught his arm, Dogo opened his mouth and poured a bucket of hot, pitch-black vomit all over the nurse's neck, chest, and the hospital room floor. Nurse Gondube stepped back in shock, and Dogo rolled onto the floor, which was covered in hot blood and black vomit. His mother Neema screamed and put her hands over her mouth.
Before Dr. Beladar could react, Akiri's sweaty, hot body went entirely limp. There was a huge ripping sound coming from Akili's stomach and Akili began convulsing, with black blood pouring out on the sheets from under Akili's body. Dr. Beladar turned Akili's body over, and as he did so, he saw that black blood and pieces of intestine were pouring out of Akili's ripped anus. Dr. Beladar's arms were elbow-deep in black blood and tissue.
Beladar had not seen this ever before. "Crash cart! Now!" he yelled into the hall. But before another nurse could bring the cart down the hall of the hospital, it was all over. Dr. Beladar felt the pulses of both boys. They were both dead. Dr. Beladar quietly took a step away from the boys, disappointed at the bad result, and thinking somberly about the ramifications.
"No! Save them! Do something!" The parents came over to hold their boys, but were surprised when Dr. Beladar harshly told them to get back.
"Those are our boys!" retorted Joseph angrily.
"Yes, and they may have a very contagious disease," yelled Dr. Beladar, "which you can catch if you get too close! Now, please, for your own good, stand back against the walls."
Neema began sobbing and put her head in her husband's big chest. Dr. Beladar looked at them sadly, feeling bad about their children. But he knew there was nothing he could have done to save them.
"We have to leave for a moment, but please, I beg you, do not try and go over to hold the boys. There is nothing you can do now. We will be back as soon as we can."
Both Dr. Beladar and the nurse left the isolation room, into a scrubbing area, where they removed their bloody clothing, scrubbing themselves down with anti-bacterial soap. They each changed into new doctor's scrubs.
"Marietta, there is a chance that these boys had something very contagious. I need you to stay here, and not go back into the admitting room. If anyone comes in, tell them to leave. We have to institute barrier protocols until I find out what that thing was that killed those boys."
"Contagious?" she said. "I had that kid's puke and blood all over me! What do you think it is?"
"I am not sure. I have to go quickly and do some research, make some phone calls. Then I will know more. But for now, sit tight."
"Ali?"
"Yes?"
"I am scared."
"No reason to be scared yet. Sit tight." He kissed her on the forehead and left.
Dr. Beladar did not want to admit it, but he was a little scared too. He went to the second floor of the small hospital and entered his office. He locked the door and went to his computer. He quickly began doing searches in a medical database. He was pretty sure it was some kind of hemorrhagic fever, based upon the black vomit, the red eyes, the bloody noses, and the purple splotches under the skin. It looked like the boys were bleeding from the inside out. As he punched in the symptoms, the results did not look promising: flu, yellow fever, dengue fever, Marburg virus, Ebola. He could have something very dangerous on his hands here. He decided to take vials of the boys' blood and send them to Italy's Instituto Nazionale per le Malattie Infettive Lazzarro Spallanzani, a Level 4 Biohazard lab which was the Rome equivalent of the American Centers for Disease Control and Prevention in Atlanta, Georgia. He could get quicker results going to Rome versus Atlanta. If he did catch something from those sick boys, Dr. Beladar wanted to know sooner rather than later.
The next four days were the longest days of Dr. Beladar's life.
Ujiji, Tanzania
Ujiji was a coastal city along Lake Tangayika about ten miles south of Kigoma. The city served as the base camp for American primate researchers, Professors Bill and Kelly Monahan. They had visited cities all along Lake Tangayika and had explored the Mahale Mountains for native chimpanzees. Bill and Kelly were writing a paper for the University of Michigan on the food gathering habits of the Tanzanian chimpanzee. They had been "in country" for three months and it was their last night here. The new semester was starting in September and they had to get home. Tonight, they were going to a local restaurant, The Ujiji Fish House, to try out the North African catfish. Lake Tangayika had a wide variety of fish, and Bill and Kelly had had a lot of fun sampling as many types of dishes as they could find. They washed the meal down with "konyagi," a Tanzanian alcoholic drink which was similar to gin. The proprietor, Sunny Temoha, having just handled some of the new fish in the kitchen, wanted to meet the Americans. He wiped his hands on his apron, wiping off the fish goo, and greeted the Americans, shaking their hands. He sat down with them, going over their album of chimpanzee photos.
"Your photos are truly amazing, Professor. How did the monkeys let you get so close?"
"We have very big telescopic lenses. We can shoot this from 100 feet away and the chimps do not even know that we are there."
"I like this one here with the two monkeys high-fiving each other. What a great shot!"
"Yes, I don't know what they were doing there," said Kelly Monahan, "We were quite surprised when they did it. But these monkeys have been around humans since the early 1960s, so maybe they have picked up a few of our bad habits!"
"Yes, I suppose so. What did you eat tonight?"
"We had the North African catfish," said Bill Monahan. "It was delicious."
"Just caught last night," said Temoha. "As fresh as you can get."
"We just love the fish in this area. There is much more variety than in the United States. There, all you can get is sea bass and swordfish. We had so much fun at your restaurant trying all of the different types out."
"Well, we trust that when you return to Tanzania, maybe next year, you will visit us again, OK?"
"Absolutely," said Kelly. "And thanks again." She talked with her husband for a few more minutes, finished her drink, paid the tab and left for the hotel. It would be nice to get back to Michigan.
What Kelly Monahan did not know was that a tiny stowaway, many million times smaller than a pencil point, would be traveling with her back to America.
August 1499. Coquibacoa, Venezuala.
Amerigo Vespucci was concerned. He stood by the aft deck railing, looking out over the calm waters of the Gulf of Venezuala. He had been on this voyage for three months now, and he could not wait to be finished with it. The problem, he thought, was with the captain. The 29 year-old, black-bearded, Spanish Admiral Alonzo de Hojeda was out of control. The man just killed anything or anyone that got in his way. He was an animal. He was not going to hear any dissension from Vespucci. Vespucci was a wealthy banker and an aristocrat. While he enjoyed a good adventure—he was on this voyage, after all--Vespucci was a man of class and sophistication. He liked a good glass of wine, a nice book, an Italian opera with soothing tones to ease the mind. This de Hojeda was something quite different. De Hojeda was a vulgar brute, prone to cursing, never clean shaven, dark black soulless eyes, a scar on his cheek from some bar brawl, and a violent disposition. De Hojeda seemed to take great joy in violence, and bullied the weaker men of his crew just for sport. If he were not on de Hojeda’s boat, Vespucci would have nothing to do with the man.
De Hojeda walked up to Vespucci from behind and put a knife to his throat.
“Amerigo! I will kill you!” De Hojeda held the knife there for a few seconds and then released it, flipping Vespucci around so that he was facing him.
Vespucci nearly jumped out of his skin. Then de Hojeda pounded him in the gut with his rough fist, laughing.
“Ha! I am just kidding. You have always got to be ready, my friend. The savages are everywhere!”
Vespucci gave the captain a withering look, obviously not finding the joke funny. The captain continued laughing and walked away from Vespucci towards some of the other men.
They had started this journey in May 1499, from Cadiz, Spain, with four well-equipped caravels. Vespucci knew that there were fortunes to be made in the uncharted New World, and if there was one thing that Vespucci possessed, it was a nose for wealth and business opportunity. No one had found the spice route to the west, but it was a matter of time before someone did, and Vespucci wanted to be on the first ship to Cathay. Dressed in the finest Spanish silks, Vespucci made a striking appearance-- handsome, well-groomed and polished. But he hated this captain.
The first sign of trouble came shortly after they left port from Cadiz. De Hojeda did not like how one of the caravels was handling. It was too slow. De Hojeda turned the entire party back to port, stole another vessel, leaving his unsatisfactory ship in its place. Vespucci noted that there was not a bit of guilt in the man. De Hojeda did as he pleased without the slightest concern for anyone else.
On the sixth day after the four ships set sail a second time, they reached the Canary Islands off Portugal. There, de Hojeda decided to rejuvenate his ship’s supplies. De Hojeda ransacked and robbed the home of Dona Ines de Peranza, who was the daughter of Christopher Columbus’ mistress. Most of the crew members were astonished by this audacity. Christopher Columbus, by this point, was revered among the sailors of Spain as a hero, the best navigator on the globe. To rob his mistress’ daughter’s house—that would surely get the entire crew in trouble, perhaps from the King of Spain, perhaps from Columbus himself. Vespucci was not about to be charged with robbery or blamed for any of de Hojeda’s crimes. No, Vespucci would testify against the Spanish cutthroat in a minute if he had to. Vespucci was a man of class. He was not a common thief.
De Hojeda sailed across the Atlantic and continued to plunder with abandon as they sailed west. On their route to the Caribbean, they had passed another Spanish ship. De Hojeda raised the flag of friendship, took a small party of men on a rowboat to the other ship, and boarded. Once on board, de Hojeda killed the captain, and murdered ten more of the crew until finally the remaining crew members surrendered, turning over to de Hojeda all the gold and trinkets they had on board. As he left, de Hojeda set the other boat on fire, leaving the sailors adrift in the ocean with a damaged and burned ship. De Hojeda mocked the cowardice of the remaining crew members as he left, calling them “teredos,” the name for the small burrowing sea worm which frequently infested the rotting wood of ships. Vespucci had been absolutely astonished that de Hojeda would kill his own countrymen, but there was no sheriff on the High Seas, so bold men simply did as they pleased.
When they had arrived at the islands of Trinidad and Tobago, discovered by Columbus only a year earlier, Vespucci was amazed. He stood aghast, staring at the native island women, who all walked around with their breasts exposed. He had never seen anything like that. All of the native islanders had been quite friendly when they arrived, and Vespucci had been interested in learning more about the strange dark-skinned savages. But he never got the chance. De Hojeda had not been interested in sparkling conversation with the islanders. As soon as he saw the women, he took a rowboat to the shore, and began raping the women at gun-point. Vespucci saw de Hojeda rape native women on the beach, in full view of his entire crew and the other islanders. A few island native men, identified as the probable mates of the women being raped, had dared to raise a voice of protest. De Hojeda immediately brought down the level of his matchlock gun and shot them, and quickly followed that act of barbarism by severing their heads from their bodies and placing the severed heads on pikes planted into the beach sand. After that, the islanders did not protest very much. They quickly gave de Hojeda pearls, parrots, and tropical fruit. For ten days they stayed in port in Trinidad so that de Hojeda and a few of his despicable crew members could get their fill of the island women. As they pulled anchor to sail further west, de Hojeda took two terrified thirteen year-old island girls on the boat as slaves. Vespucci was completely astonished and disgusted at this behavior. But Vespucci was no courageous soldier. If he protested, he would surely find his own head severed and placed on a pike. He decided that the politically astute move was to just keep his mouth shut.
De Hojeda, for his part, detested Vespucci. He dressed like a girl and always seemed so concerned about his appearance. He acted like a coward, dressed like a coward, moved like a coward. And he had that air of snobbery. Vespucci always appeared like he thought he was above everyone else, de Hojeda thought. De Hojeda would tolerate the banker for now, because his financial backers were helping to finance this journey. But that did not mean that de Hojeda had to be Vespucci’s friend.
What Vespucci did not know was that de Hojeda had been given virtual immunity for anything he did on the High Seas. This discovery of a trade route to Cathay was serious business for Spain. The King of Spain first sought the assistance of Pope Alexander VI, a Spaniard, who issued a papal declaration, or Bull, that the islands and countries in the New World were the property of Spain. In 1494, in the Treaty of Tordesillas, Spain got Portugal to agree to its terms, drawing an imaginary line down the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and declaring the lands to the east of the line as Portuguese territories and the lands to the west of the line as Spanish territories. Unfortunately for Spain, however, the other European countries like England were not bound by the treaty or the papal declaration. In the discovery business, England was serious competition. The King and Queen of Spain decided to block off any attempt at any further English exploration, but they had to do it in a way that left no fingerprints. The last thing the King needed was a war with England. So King Ferdinand had dispatched Bishop Juan de Fonseca to talk to de Hojeda, and convince him to captain this voyage. De Hojeda had been told by the bishop that he had to stop the English explorers at all costs from acquiring new territories. De Hojeda was not to start a war with England, of course, but just about anything short of that would be given the King of Spain’s blessing. De Hojeda did not have to be told twice. He would stop the Englishmen, with no witnesses, and, in return, he would be handsomely rewarded by the King.
De Hojeda cruised south, exploring the upper part of South America. He had learned from Indians on several stops to the mainland of South America that English ships were somewhere a little north of their present position, so he continued up the coast north and west. Soon they approached an area where the little native huts along the shore were nestled on raised stilts coming out of the water. The huts reminded Vespucci of his native Venice, so he named the place Venezuala, or “Little Venice.” De Hojeda had anchored his ships here in the Gulf of Venezuala for several days now, certain that he would run into the English ships sooner or later. Just to the south of this gulf was a large fresh water lake called Coquibacoa. It was a perfect refuge for re-stocking and resting before a long voyage back to England. If de Hojeda did not find the English ships here soon, he would move further north along the coast and then head back towards Hispaniola.
Vespucci enjoyed the rest here at Coquibacoa. The weather was beautiful, the seas were calm, and he had a level table to write his letters to his friend back in Italy. It had been over a week since de Hojeda had killed anyone, and that had been a welcome change. He also loved the food here. He had feasted on island fruits like bananas and pineapples. And he wrote in his letters and logs about the small monkeys, colorful snakes, and beautiful birds. On a recent inland expedition, some members of the crew had encountered a huge twenty-foot long snake, and it terrified them. Vespucci found the news exciting and he recounted the stories of the sailors in his memoirs.
The peace and quiet also gave Vespucci time to contemplate the navigational problem that had vexed him since the beginning of this voyage. Vespucci was also a student of science. He had been trying to determine a way to measure longitude, or the position of a ship along the meridian lines running from north to south. Latitude was easy. A simple astrolabe could figure that out. However, the problem of longitude had puzzled mariners for decades. Two nights ago, August 23, 1499, Vespucci had found his answer. The night was calm and beautiful, a great night for star gazing. The astrological almanac he had brought with him showed that on that night, just before midnight, there was to be a conjunction of the Moon and Mars. By determining that Mars at Vespucci’s location was actually three degrees to the east of the Moon, Vespucci was able to come to a rough approximation of longitude. Of course, this method had problems. It depended on a known astrological conjunction and an astrological almanac with the dates and times of predicted sightings. It also required measurements with a stable viewing platform, something very difficult on the rolling deck of a ship on the High Seas. However, it was a start. Vespucci continued to scribble notes about his newfound theory, and puzzled about ways to make his new longitude-determining method more precise.
On this afternoon, Vespucci was puzzling over the longitude question when his attention was diverted by yells from the crow’s nest far above him.
“An English ship!” yelled the sailor.
All of the sailors on de Hojeda’s ship scrambled to the top deck to see what the commotion was all about. As they looked to the west, they could see one ship bearing an English flag heading towards them at a fast clip. Admiral de Hojeda looked through his captain’s glass at the horizon and smiled broadly. It was John Cabot’s ship. He was certain of it. He was going to be rich.