Critters and Culture Shocks - A Vet's Life in India

by Jessica French (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find India

I awoke to the impatient barking of canines wanting breakfast. The smell of spices mixed with muggy heat sat heavy in the air. At 6am, sweat had already begun to bead on my forehead and it was time for work. As a UK vet, travelling to Jaipur, India to assist on a neutering project, I was certainly out of my comfort zone! The trip had been a shock to my deeply ingrained British ideologies; The rigid health and safety laws which often suffocate UK veterinary practices were non-existent here, in fact, it was accepted practice to carry out all duties, no matter how hair-raising in flipflops. I was grateful for the cool air to my feet but I did mourn the lack of steel-toe caps and prayed for the preservation of my naked toes when examining particularly fractious equids. The morning routine was like clockwork; I’d be greeted with an affectionate tail wag from Goldie, an entirely blind charity resident who, despite her lack of vision, still managed to scale the 3ft fence to my compound to snooze on my doorstep and enjoy the occasional leftover chapati. I absent-mindedly picked off the ticks from Goldie’s ears as she sat for her morning fuss. These uninvited, blood-sucking arachnids used to make my skin crawl but had quickly become part of the furniture. Not to say I didn’t still squeal in horror when I found one inhabiting my own person, but I had become accustomed to many things in India I’d have once found incredibly uncomfortable. I left Goldie lounging contentedly on the love seat and headed to the surgery building which was already buzzing with life. I was greeted by the obligatory cup of chai which it seemed sinful here to do anything without, changed into scrubs and finally, after what seemed like an age of hustle, bustle and comedic arguments between staff with little being accomplished, I got in theatre. The street dogs of Jaipur came thick and fast in a haphazard production line to be neutered, vaccinated and health screened. These dogs were the lucky ones; part of a program which not only protected them against Rabies - the harrowing disease which tore through the nervous systems of any mammal it contacted, but ensured the people of Jaipur were safe too. In the cool concrete theatre, I worked, often by torch-light when the generator cut out, with sweat from the 40-degree heat rolling down my back. I had accepted long ago that veterinary wasn’t glamorous work but in India with the dust and the heat, this was taken to whole new levels. My afternoon was spent with the ambulatory camel clinic. These large, and often quite irritable beasts of burden are still common-place in India’s more rural areas. To my surprise, our drop-in clinic was set up in the middle of a dual carriage-way. Now, if you know anything about the chaos of India’s roads you will understand how alarming this was for a Brit used to polite drivers who abide by the highway code. Time travelled quickly as we vaccinated, health checked, cleaned wounds and gave advice to improve the welfare of Jaipur’s working camels. After some time I began to notice we’d attracted quite a crowd. I initially assumed this was due to a gathering of camels in the middle of a highway (that would certainly make British new headlines!), but I was told with an amused smirk that it was I, the glaringly white (I, unfortunately, do not possess the complexion for tanning) female who had drawn everyone’s attention. This was initially disconcerting but as weeks in India passed, this sort of attention became the norm. Veterinary is a career of compassion, I became a vet to help people and animals in need and I am always happiest when I feel I’m following this calling. I can honestly say that despite the noise, heat, unique culture and lack of mod-cons, nowhere have I felt more passionate about my work than this time spent caring for the animals of India.