You may have noticed that I haven't posted in a little while. That is because a few weeks ago I came home. I came home because the project wasn't quite going as I expected in the time frame I had available, so I and the fellowship felt my time could be used a little more wisely elsewhere.
I greatly enjoyed my time in Zambia and I hope to find a way back to Africa!
Thank you for reading, and don't worry, in a few weeks there will be more adventures being posted but just from a different location. I am actively looking for new placements and projects, as I still have about 3 months left with my time in the fellowship. Good thing I still have blank pages in the passport. See you soon.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Taxi Interventions
On Thursday Marion, Irvin, and myself took a taxi to Kabwe. In the taxi with us was an elderly man and obviously the driver. Of course being two white women in Kapiri they assume we are medical professionals and we get to talking. I was shocked at the information they gave us.
The taxi driver was very inquisitive. He told us that the reason why a baby dies at childbirth is because the father is cheating on the mother. He believed in this adamantly. The elderly man was also in agreement. Of course I had to ask them if they knew of any men who had their babies die and they weren’t cheating on the mother, and they both said yes! I then brought up the obvious point of how does one affect the other as didn’t they see that babies died for other reasons? And they explained that there is a counsel of women that will decide if the man is cheating on the woman, and whatever THEY decide will say if the man is cheating or not. I am sure hoping some part of this was lost in translation, because I just can’t believe what I’m hearing.
They both were quite helpful though in giving us some thoughts about how to bring more women to the clinics to deliver. Guess what they suggested? Transportation and supplying the items that they are told to bring at the time of delivery. They also suggested having talks in the village, and stressed the importance of making sure that we also formed men’s groups as well. Good thoughts, I never would have thought that is was important to include the men right away in these kind of discussions in communities. But it’s promising to hear that men want to be included.
The taxi driver was very inquisitive. He told us that the reason why a baby dies at childbirth is because the father is cheating on the mother. He believed in this adamantly. The elderly man was also in agreement. Of course I had to ask them if they knew of any men who had their babies die and they weren’t cheating on the mother, and they both said yes! I then brought up the obvious point of how does one affect the other as didn’t they see that babies died for other reasons? And they explained that there is a counsel of women that will decide if the man is cheating on the woman, and whatever THEY decide will say if the man is cheating or not. I am sure hoping some part of this was lost in translation, because I just can’t believe what I’m hearing.
They both were quite helpful though in giving us some thoughts about how to bring more women to the clinics to deliver. Guess what they suggested? Transportation and supplying the items that they are told to bring at the time of delivery. They also suggested having talks in the village, and stressed the importance of making sure that we also formed men’s groups as well. Good thoughts, I never would have thought that is was important to include the men right away in these kind of discussions in communities. But it’s promising to hear that men want to be included.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Good News
I’ve had so many questions about that baby that we rushed to the hospital after it had been born premature (at about 25 weeks.) I went to Kabwe General Hospital today to conduct some more interviews with women and was stopped in the hallway by an excited familiar face. After we greeted each other I remembered that it was her and her baby that we had brought back to the hospital. She told us good news! The baby was only 1.3 Kg (2.86 lbs) when brought into the hospital last Friday, and this morning the baby is 1.6 Kg. No drips, feeding tubes, nothing but constant care from her mom in a room that is warmed by a space heater. This baby is clearly a fighter, and she wasn’t too happy to be in my arms for a few moments and away from her mother’s breast! But we did manage to get a couple of photos of the pair.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Back In The Field
Our vehicle broke down, and I went back to Lusaka while it is getting fixed. But it's taking longer than anticipated so I decided to come back up to Kabwe to continue to some work anyway.
It was good spending some time in Lusaka, I ran into a girl I went to college with who is living here, as well as a girl that I went to high school with. All working for various aid organizations. I love hearing other people's stories in aid and the difficulties they encounter. I met a man who was working for UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees) in Chad taking care of the Darfur refugees that crossed the boarder last year. He told me the story about how they were kidnapped and held hostage in their living quarters for a week by the rebels, and were rescued by the French Army. His stories are heartbraking,he saw a lot as he was doing the registering of new refugees. The camps can spring up over a weekend, he was saying that 30,000 refugees might show up in 2-3 days. I can't even imagine what that must be like.
We hear about all the atrocities whenever the media decided that a humanitarian catastrophe might just be more important that Britney Spears, and it never really hit home for me on how bad it really is until I came here. And I had put a lot of thought into it! It's something quite different to talk to people who experience those atrocities first hand.
It was good spending some time in Lusaka, I ran into a girl I went to college with who is living here, as well as a girl that I went to high school with. All working for various aid organizations. I love hearing other people's stories in aid and the difficulties they encounter. I met a man who was working for UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees) in Chad taking care of the Darfur refugees that crossed the boarder last year. He told me the story about how they were kidnapped and held hostage in their living quarters for a week by the rebels, and were rescued by the French Army. His stories are heartbraking,he saw a lot as he was doing the registering of new refugees. The camps can spring up over a weekend, he was saying that 30,000 refugees might show up in 2-3 days. I can't even imagine what that must be like.
We hear about all the atrocities whenever the media decided that a humanitarian catastrophe might just be more important that Britney Spears, and it never really hit home for me on how bad it really is until I came here. And I had put a lot of thought into it! It's something quite different to talk to people who experience those atrocities first hand.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Street Justice
About 3 years ago in Boston I watched 2 women get struck in a hit and run accident in Government Center. I was on the sidewalk and one of the women landed at my feet. I can still visualize that experience and it is not a pleasant thought. Yesterday I was reminded again how all to quickly life can change forever.
I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing 2 pedestrians get struck by a car doing about 35 mph. For some reason it veered out of it's lane and struck people standing just off the sidewalk in the street, well within the boundaries of a parked car. Then as it went up over a sidewalk it hit 1 more. Since I was just across the street, I ran over to see if they were okay. Around here you just can't call 911 and have an ambulance and police show up. The woman who was most struck was awake but holding her head, moaning, crying, and very scared. She was hit hard enough to crack the windshield. No major visible injuries. A mob showed up as soon as I got to the other side of the street, in under a minute. The driver knew he was in serious trouble and acted quickly. He and his passengers scooped up the various injured parties off the ground and threw them into the truck. No neck braces or backboards, just grabbing arms and legs in a hurried carry. At this time the mob grew and became quite unruly so I got the heck out of there. I watched from the safety of the other side of the street as the driver was fending off attackers and was lucky to make it out of there without being seriously injured by the mob. He and his passengers all got into the truck with the injured and sped off to the hospital. At least he did that much.
I had heard about street justice here, and I was told that if I ever got in a car accident that it is understood that both parties drive to the police station to prevent a mob forming and dishing out justice to their own accord. Now I understand why.
I had the unfortunate experience of witnessing 2 pedestrians get struck by a car doing about 35 mph. For some reason it veered out of it's lane and struck people standing just off the sidewalk in the street, well within the boundaries of a parked car. Then as it went up over a sidewalk it hit 1 more. Since I was just across the street, I ran over to see if they were okay. Around here you just can't call 911 and have an ambulance and police show up. The woman who was most struck was awake but holding her head, moaning, crying, and very scared. She was hit hard enough to crack the windshield. No major visible injuries. A mob showed up as soon as I got to the other side of the street, in under a minute. The driver knew he was in serious trouble and acted quickly. He and his passengers scooped up the various injured parties off the ground and threw them into the truck. No neck braces or backboards, just grabbing arms and legs in a hurried carry. At this time the mob grew and became quite unruly so I got the heck out of there. I watched from the safety of the other side of the street as the driver was fending off attackers and was lucky to make it out of there without being seriously injured by the mob. He and his passengers all got into the truck with the injured and sped off to the hospital. At least he did that much.
I had heard about street justice here, and I was told that if I ever got in a car accident that it is understood that both parties drive to the police station to prevent a mob forming and dishing out justice to their own accord. Now I understand why.
Mariana
Mariana is a thin, yet strong appearing woman with kindness in her eyes. She has lived in her current village for the past five years, moving there when she remarried after her first husband died of AIDS. It is a natural fit as she had grown up in the Kabwe area. She too is HIV positive and has known her status for eight years, and it is only in the past three that she has needed the readily available anti-retroviral medications. She and her husband live a simple life of subsistence farming of maize, ground nuts, sweet potatoes, and a small vegetable garden. Even though I had to pry it out of her, she does have dreams outside of her village. She has a strong desire to rid the country of the stigma associated with HIV and is currently volunteering at a rural health center doing VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing) three days a week. She wishes she could go somewhere to receive further training and move up in the ranks of VCT.
When I asked her about her family, she told me how she was one of seven children to her parents. At this point there are only four of them left; she has lost three siblings as well as her mother and father. One of her sister’s died after giving birth—she had a c-section and afterwards developed an infection that took her life. I try not to flinch when she tells me another sister was lost to AIDS, and the other sibling was lost to cerebral malaria. The thirty year old does not waiver a bit. This much death in a family is the norm here, and I am reminded of this throughout the afternoon as I hear more and more stories that are the same.
One thing that has gone right for her is her own experience with childbirth. She always went to the nearest clinic or hospital and has suffered no complications. This is unusual as most women in her village deliver at home. They either don’t have transportation, or the roads are too terrible during the rainy season as small streams form that wash away small bridges. Mariana hopes that we can help her village by getting more women to come to the clinic and is willing to help us any way she can.
Life has not been easy for her, but she always remembers her drive to help her fellow man. She does important work by facilitating VCT, and is willing to do whatever it takes to end the stigma against HIV/AIDS. As for her children, her wish for them is simple. She wants them all to get the opportunity to be educated through twelveth grade. No dreams of astronauts and doctors, just a high school education. And when pressed further for what kind of work she hopes her children will one day do? Again she thinks of others. She hopes they end up working for the Ministry of Health.
When I asked her about her family, she told me how she was one of seven children to her parents. At this point there are only four of them left; she has lost three siblings as well as her mother and father. One of her sister’s died after giving birth—she had a c-section and afterwards developed an infection that took her life. I try not to flinch when she tells me another sister was lost to AIDS, and the other sibling was lost to cerebral malaria. The thirty year old does not waiver a bit. This much death in a family is the norm here, and I am reminded of this throughout the afternoon as I hear more and more stories that are the same.
One thing that has gone right for her is her own experience with childbirth. She always went to the nearest clinic or hospital and has suffered no complications. This is unusual as most women in her village deliver at home. They either don’t have transportation, or the roads are too terrible during the rainy season as small streams form that wash away small bridges. Mariana hopes that we can help her village by getting more women to come to the clinic and is willing to help us any way she can.
Life has not been easy for her, but she always remembers her drive to help her fellow man. She does important work by facilitating VCT, and is willing to do whatever it takes to end the stigma against HIV/AIDS. As for her children, her wish for them is simple. She wants them all to get the opportunity to be educated through twelveth grade. No dreams of astronauts and doctors, just a high school education. And when pressed further for what kind of work she hopes her children will one day do? Again she thinks of others. She hopes they end up working for the Ministry of Health.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
More On Transportation
On Friday I went back out to Mukonchi to interview some women in the hopes of documenting their "story." Just put a name and face to the statistics. Needless to say hearing these women and what they have gone through make complaining about the elevator taking too long to get to the top floor look like a sin. AIDS, lost babies, neighbors, inability to get mosquito nets because their children are over 5 years old and they are not currently pregnant, husbands that just walk away one day and never come home, no transportation, and their biggest wish being that their children will be able to get educated all the way through high school and find a job.
Quite simply, stories of loss and the wish for survival.
After being at this rural clinic for a couple of hours I start talking to one of the staff workers. As our conversation is coming to a close and he has politely answered all of my questions he calmly asks if I'm going back to Kabwe. I tell him yes, and then he starts to tell me about his wife that has given birth to a premature baby at the clinic and needs a way to get to the hospital. After a little confusion (lost in translation) I manage to figure out that she gave birth at 04:00 that day, (it was now 16:00) and the baby was born premature and at 6 months. Of course I try to contain my worry and I immediately tell Humphrey to get ready for company and tell him that we'll take them to the hospital right away. We go to the new mom and I ask to see the baby. They hand me a pile of blankets that was so big that I had to unwrap for some time to try to find the little girl. There she was, sleeping, pink. Still breathing. Everyone piles into the vehicle, I hand the wee one back to her mom and politely suggest to unwrap a layer or two (there were more than 3) to get a little more air to the baby.
I ask the mom how much the baby weighs and she does not know. I ask how many weeks the baby is and she doesn't know, she only knows that she is 6 months along. So now I relax a tiny bit more as I'm thinking that maybe she's further along than she thinks and I know that a baby's chance of survival increases quite a bit each day after 24 weeks.
An hour and a half later we get to the hospital and I carry the baby and help mom walk down to the nursery, while dad carries the luggage. I can't imagine being in the back of a car for this rough, bouncy ride shortly after giving birth, and I can't imagine how that baby felt being jostled into this world. I ask mom if she has any pain and she quietly says yes but her eyes tell me "YES!" I wonder if she's had anything to help make her more comfortable. She didn't make a peep the entire ride. Either way baby is now admitted and in a nurse's arms, so I take our exit after wishing the family well.
What struck me is that the dad is a staff member of the clinic. There is an ambulance in Kapiri Hospital that is supposed to be dispatched to the clinic and take them to the hospital in Kabwe. The truth is that the ambulance will come if there is money for fuel and it is available. When I had asked him during the journey if they were waiting for an ambulance to come when we showed up first, he told me he didn't even radio because he knew they would never come. This is a member of staff! He won't even radio because he knows the chances of getting transport are unlikely. Instead, he waited until something else came along.
Quite simply, stories of loss and the wish for survival.
After being at this rural clinic for a couple of hours I start talking to one of the staff workers. As our conversation is coming to a close and he has politely answered all of my questions he calmly asks if I'm going back to Kabwe. I tell him yes, and then he starts to tell me about his wife that has given birth to a premature baby at the clinic and needs a way to get to the hospital. After a little confusion (lost in translation) I manage to figure out that she gave birth at 04:00 that day, (it was now 16:00) and the baby was born premature and at 6 months. Of course I try to contain my worry and I immediately tell Humphrey to get ready for company and tell him that we'll take them to the hospital right away. We go to the new mom and I ask to see the baby. They hand me a pile of blankets that was so big that I had to unwrap for some time to try to find the little girl. There she was, sleeping, pink. Still breathing. Everyone piles into the vehicle, I hand the wee one back to her mom and politely suggest to unwrap a layer or two (there were more than 3) to get a little more air to the baby.
I ask the mom how much the baby weighs and she does not know. I ask how many weeks the baby is and she doesn't know, she only knows that she is 6 months along. So now I relax a tiny bit more as I'm thinking that maybe she's further along than she thinks and I know that a baby's chance of survival increases quite a bit each day after 24 weeks.
An hour and a half later we get to the hospital and I carry the baby and help mom walk down to the nursery, while dad carries the luggage. I can't imagine being in the back of a car for this rough, bouncy ride shortly after giving birth, and I can't imagine how that baby felt being jostled into this world. I ask mom if she has any pain and she quietly says yes but her eyes tell me "YES!" I wonder if she's had anything to help make her more comfortable. She didn't make a peep the entire ride. Either way baby is now admitted and in a nurse's arms, so I take our exit after wishing the family well.
What struck me is that the dad is a staff member of the clinic. There is an ambulance in Kapiri Hospital that is supposed to be dispatched to the clinic and take them to the hospital in Kabwe. The truth is that the ambulance will come if there is money for fuel and it is available. When I had asked him during the journey if they were waiting for an ambulance to come when we showed up first, he told me he didn't even radio because he knew they would never come. This is a member of staff! He won't even radio because he knows the chances of getting transport are unlikely. Instead, he waited until something else came along.
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