I had a lovely lunch with Jane yesterday. We talked and talked. She left for Maine this morning.
Chef Frida and I in our "dining room":
Jane and Glory and I in Glory's office (that I share)
Jane with the security men (head of security, Jon, on the right):
I took photos of the clinic and talked to Agnes for a long time. She told me about all the work they do there. HIV and AIDS education, family planning, children’s health monitoring, support for pre- and post-natal women, preventative health, and even mental health. Apparently there is a lot of stress-related anxiety and depression, for women, for the unemployed, and also for youth, specifically with substance abuse problems and schizophrenia. I was so surprised, thinking all along that mental health was more of a North America problem! But people are really really poor. That is definitely depressing.
The clinics are busy and underfunded. She talked about the work they do in the northern community of Leparua, and the Maasai communities even beyond that, which they reach via the mobile clinic. She said she had been able to gain their trust and was slowly teaching them to come for examinations, and take chemical medicine, instead of herbs. The main challenge, she told me, was that of hygiene, which was the cause of many sicknesses, especially waterborne diseases.Halfway through my visit two little girls were waiting to see the nurse. The young one, about 6 years old I think, was accompanied by her older sister. She was coming for a follow-up shot for Malaria. Long, gangly girls with big bright eyes and short hair. I popped my head around the corner and said Habari ya subui! Knowing full well it was afternoon, and I had just asked them how they were this morning. They burst out laughing - half in surprise that I spoke Kiswahili to them in the first place, and, in unison, corrected me right away: Habari ya jioni!
Agnes said I could take a photo of her administering the shot, but when the girl saw me, she said “I don’t want to cry in front of the mzungu.” So I excused myself and walked around until they were finished. I was nearby and I could hear the girl crying, but I could also hear Agnes talking soothingly and laughing with her. When I returned she told me the girl had said, covering her eyes, “you prepare everything and tell me to come in when you’re ready – I don’t want to see the needle until it’s the last minute.”
I took photos of the clinic, and took notes about the work they were doing there. While Agnes saw more patients (they see 500-600 a month!), I spoke to the lab technician. She talked to me about all the different and most common ailments they see at the clinic: Malaria, HIV, TB, typhoid and very often intestinal worms, causing diarrhea. Again I was told about the problem of hygiene with water; people using a local river for toilets, washing, laundry and cooking, etc.
She also showed me the TB hood, which is like a cupboard with a plexi-glass front (I think?), where they store infectious items. She said right now it isn’t finished being constructed and that instead she had been wearing a mouth and nose mask. All the hood needs is an extractor fan and a UV light, but they don’t have the money to complete it.
It’s dangerous for you, I said.Yes, she said, Sometimes I am scared. The other day we had a bad case and we lost someone to TB.
It’s amazing what they do there at the clinic. It's the closest medical site within 25kms, which for people without a vehicle is far. But it is well-equipped, and the staff are excellent. Qualified, patient, caring, and hard working.
The place is Small. The treatment room is also the filing and records room, is also the observation room, is also the tea-room, is also the store for immunizations. And the attendant was sitting next to a pile of paper, slowly slowly inputting things into a small old laptop. They said they are also saving for a new computer, but for now it’s slowly, slowly.
No comments:
Post a Comment