AM NOT AFRAID OF VAMPIRES
I was recently requested by a pal of mine to donate blood. This was to aid his injured relative who had lost a lot of blood in a life-threatening incident. Although I did not have the required blood type, the hospital provided for an ‘exchange program’ for blood. This means that I could donate my kapint of then it will go to the blood treasury (sawa basi…bank) and replace the blood type for the one needed by the patient.
I promptly arrived at the hospital to drain my blood. I feared the threat of a Dracula lurking in the dark but the nurse assured me that it was daytime and if their was any threat, then she would be in on it so that later she could hand over the kapint to her master ha ha haaaa. The last time that I had donated a kapint for the dracula’s keg, I was in high school.
Let me retrace my footsteps just for you. I arrived at Nairobi Hospital using a Citi Hoppa bus. Except for the signs, one might think that one is entering a 5-star hotel. The entrance and parking area are spotless and filled with luxury cars. Prados, Benzes, Lexus, Bimas are just a few of the blings that I saw soon as I hopped out of the Citi Hoppa. That’s why all the Kenyan top brass (or should it be diamond) who get sick are admitted here. I asked for directions from one of the askaris otherwise known as security chiefs. He directed me to the draculas den. I got past the glass door entrance and went down a ramp.
I got into the blood donors’ room referred to as dracula’s den. It actually is at the basement to add to my fears. This was the point where the nurse assured me that there was no evil entity. It was lunch hour and she advised me to eat before I unleashed the very intimate parts of my vein to her. I think that she suggested the idea more out of her need to take a lunch break and eat her snack. I didn’t mind her because it is always a requirement to eat before donating blood. As I went out to buy fruit salad from one of the many stalls located outside the hospital gates, I remembered that there is a regulation that one must be above 50kg to give out blood i.e. no ‘diskettes’ allowed. What if you were 50kg before eating and become 51kg after? In campus we used to refer to paper-thin chics as ‘diskettes’. We all know computer diskettes are becoming obsolete. ‘Diskettes’ in the modeling world are also beginning scoffed at with Paris presently establishing weight minimums for catwalk queens. That’s why I admire my big boned African Queen.
Anyway, when I got back into the den, there was another fly mamaa also waiting to fall under the dracula’s spell. At least I wouldn’t be alone but my shy side got the better of me. We were in the waiting room and I went in first (ladies first, men before- its 2006!). I was given a blue form to fill. Among other things, I wrote down my HIV status, allergies and other serious ailments I have ever got. The room had four lean back beds (or whatever they are called) lined up at the furthest end from the door. There was also a separate sector with a sheet around it. I never queried what it was for but I guess it’s for guys who have the ‘donating’ vein in the butt instead of the arm (truth is stranger than fiction).
I finally lay on the lean back bed and the nurse started the search for my vein. She first tied the pressure pad on my BIG bicep (its true!). I started pumping my hand and soon Mr.Vein decided to show himself. The nurse opened a fresh pack of blood donor instruments. It definitely has to be so fresh, so clean and so new to prevent contamination.
“Aaaaah!” It was the thickest needle I have ever seen. I almost cried for my mummy. She mocked my poor kavein into showing itself despite its desire to hide then skillfully prodded in. It was not as painful as I had imagined. Blood streamed through the needle into the kapint collection bag. It was beautiful! My hand crunched onto a soft small bag as I pumped away my blood.
The fly mamaa prepared herself for the Dracula spell on the bed next to me. Unfortunately, when the vein was pricked the nurse missed the target and blood begun spilling all over the place. The mamaa panicked as I watched the Urban Legend with horror but the nurse quickly but professionally stopped the bleeding and told her to relax as she wiped off the blood on the floor. I imagined MJ singing ‘Blood on the Dance floor’ to keep my mind off my weakening left arm. After a few minutes, she ventured to the right arm. It was during that window of opportunity that I gathered courage to start vibing (Hey, opportunity knocks only once and one man’s meat is another man’s poison). Soon we exchanged niceties as each of us we filled our bag of pint. The Dracula’s keg was going to be full; stupid happy Dracula!?
Looking back, the experience was worth it. I helped to save a life while also confirming my health status in a valid hospital. Once you donate blood they screen for everything and the tests become available in a fortnight. For all those who are curious, I failed the HIV Test…figure it out!

