While looking through my journal the other night to read what I had written about Violet during my time in Africa, I came across the following entry I had jotted down to take note of that day's experiences. I thought I'd just share my thoughts from June 27th, 2007 as a little insight into life as a child in M'Bita:
"...there was a man who took another man's wife in the village last week. This man apparently lived right next to the school. The first husband was associated with the local mob and he had the other man hung in a tree right in the man's own front yard. This was last Friday. The American teachers who are at the main school (everyone but me and Suzanne who walk about a mile from the campus each day to get to the "nursery" building down the road) heard all of the wailing on Friday. The "mortuary" (that is the closest American concept word I can think of...the version here seems to be much less 'polished' than what we would really consider to be the practices of our kind of mortuary) was coming to get the body. Then yesterday, during the chapel services that Mary was trying to lead, they brought the body back and there was much more wailing.
These children see so much.
When I went and got Vallary out of class to visit with her today, she was telling me about running from a hippo once. I asked her how she got away and she said, "if a hippo is ever chasing you...you must run up the hill. You see, because, a hippopotamus has very short, fat legs and he cannot bend his legs like we do and so he cannot chase you up the hill!"
What different concerns and skill sets these children aquire!
I just helped a child (George) whose scab came off one of his knees. Blood was running down his leg. The teachers pulled out a first aide kit but only after I asked. I think they ration them pretty tightly, which I can understand since I do the same in my own classroom where I am the one paying for them. And at least I have the luxury of popping by CVS on the way home from work whereas I have no idea how they come by theirs? I wonder. This is the 3rd child I have seen bleeding and the other two were injuries that led to a decent amount of blood loss. I waited for someone to bandage the wounds but nothing happened so I pulled out my own band aides. I didn't want to seem like a wussy American or step on any toes but in a place where such rampant aides is prevalent, I just couldn't help it.
Johnson & Johnson, Mbita needs you.
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| This is George. How could you resist giving him a band aide?? :) |
Katie, I used to help with an organization in Colorado called Project C.U.R.E.. Their focus is sending donated medical supplies to Third World countries. I helped pack boxes of bandages, medical implements, etc. There were boxes of latex gloves that were 1/4 full, but 'thrown away' so that a new box could be used. Incubators, wheelchairs, lamps, stethoscopes that were still in good working order, they had just been tossed aside by U.S. hospitals for newer models.
ReplyDeleteI found that part of the spread of disease in Third World countries is not just person-to-person contact, but also because latex gloves are at such a premium that doctors will put on one pair for the entire day (I guess to keep themselves from being infected), treated patient after patient while wearing the same gloves. Used bandages are often 'washed' then hung out to dry to use on the next person (even though we all know not all germs are killed by a good soap-washing and sun-drying). Things like Band-Aids are as precious as gold to them. It's amazing what we take for granted, what we use & discard.
I love reading your posts. What a great storyteller you are - I guess having such fascinating subject matter helps!