'Africans going Dutch' - Part One: The Dutch doctor

Starting this month, our new weekly blog 'Africans going Dutch' will follow the highs and lows of living in Holland from an African perspective.

By Ayobami Ojebode
 
This is my second month in Holland and the winter is getting to me. It is getting at my skin, my brain and my emotions but I don’t mind all of that. This winter is also getting at my throat—that I mind. I cannot swallow anything—even water—without feeling a sharp pain in my throat. I need a dose of lozenges or aspirin to gurgle. But in this blessed land, you cannot get anything without first seeing the doctor who must write a prescription—in Dutch, of course.
Prescription
Home, sweet home. Who needs a doctor’s prescription to buy drugs in Nigeria? You have a cold, malaria, typhoid, meningitis, urinary tract infections, anything whatsoever? You just enter the drug store (called ‘chemist’ in Nigeria) and tell the girl behind the counter the name of the drug you want—and you get it!
Not so in Holland. Anything beyond a mild pain-killer must be prescribed by a doctor. And so on Leiden’s Harlemaastraat, I ask for anti-bacterial and antifungal medication, lozenges and some strong pain relief. Just four drugs. And the girl asks, "Where is doctor’s prescription?”. I feel insulted. Do you mean at my age, I do not know what is good for me?
Appointment
I book an appointment with Dr van der Steen. His office is impressive— with more gadgets than I ever could have imagined. For once, I am a little thankful that I came. I imagine he’d do all sorts of tests on me. He’ll take my pulse —yes that heart needs to be checked because it really pulsates each time I see eighty-something year-old women on a bicycle.
Dr Steen, I am sure, will heal my ailments, those present and those yet to come. And he will give me a long list of prescription drugs. Then I’ll return to that girl on Harlemaastraat. I will show her the paper and all will be well. I’ll also warn her to always remember that a Nigerian always knows what’s good for him or her.
No drugs!
Dr Steen comes in. Thirty minutes on, he hasn’t even touched me. He talks about this and that. He asks me this and that question: my age, my favourite food, if I liked Holland, if my room is well ventilated, if I sleep well, if I miss home, if I like biking! Then he said, ‘My friend you are fine. Rest well. Drink lots of water. You don’t need any drugs at all’.
What!? Dr Steen, this is unfair. Doctors in my country are so smart that they start writing prescriptions even before the patient starts talking.

Stay tuned for next week's installment of Ayo's adventures in Holland.