twenty-three

My team and I split up today to visit several villages, my main task was to visit two clinics to observe the treatment facilities as well as to discuss our health strategy within these villages…it has been a difficult day…

We began the drive through back roads to exit Maradi and enter the outskirt villages.  We had been driving for about an hour with the windows down when all of the sudden a strange sound began to float through the car.  I listened hard outside and it sounded like hundreds of birds and I wish it had been.  As we got closer and closer to the clinic I realized that it was not hundreds of birds but hundreds of children crying, most of them younger than 18 months old.  I got out of the car and surveyed an enormous outdoor clinic…

Nearly 500 women stood with their infants  who were nursing, crying, sleeping, and the really sick children just sat with distant glares.  The women looked like a giant watercolor painting with their beautiful clothes streaming in the breeze that carried a repugnant sent of disease…I stood for several moments just frozen as I looked on.  After I was able to put myself together I was taken on a tour of the main emergency clinic, a modest four bedroom building where the government funds a nurse.  The nurse first led me to the maternity room.  The metal bead had no cushions on it and in fact the nurse told me that most women sit on the floor to give birth.  No one can afford drugs and surgical equipment consists of one pair of scissors.  The next room was an “injection” room that looked similar to the maternity room.  As I entered this room, the combination of heat and stench nearly knocked me over.  The sickest patients are brought into this room with one bed and treated in whatever way is possible.  The other rooms were for storage (I still don’t know what was kept in “storage” as there is no money to buy anything) and one for administration.

Next I walked through the outdoor clinic…it was heart wrenching.  The outdoor clinic is divided into several sections and is mainly for children under the age of 5.  Women and children are screened for all kinds of diseases, provided immunizations in some cases, given nutritional supplements, mosquito nets, and sparse other materials and supplies to treat minor illnesses.  As I walked through the tiny aisles lined with women and infants my mind was overcome with emotion.  I was so thankful that all of these women were able to receive some treatment and that they could learn about health…but the sound of 500 tragically sick infants is still ringing in my ears.

The medical assistant was explaining the procedures to me as we continued our tour and I was captured by the eyes of the women as we walked on.  Their eyes seemed to call out to me, to the nurse, to anyone for help and treatment.  Some of the women were laughing, some were crying, but the vast majority had the same distant glare as their sick infants.  It can be difficult at times to see God in these situations…one begins to wonder, “Where are you God?  How long will you forget these children?  How long will you stay away?”  I know everyone will say “God is there, He is in the aid workers treating the infants, His hope brightens the women as they leave with nutrition strategies”…and I agree, it’s just hard in those moments.

I stayed at the clinic for about four hours before it was time to move onto another project.  The well there serves about 200 families and is maintained by the community.  When we arrived I was swarmed by children (always a brief taste of heaven for me) and we discussed malaria and trachoma with several community members.  I was most interested in learning about the children’s health practices so we talked for awhile and they told me if they slept under mosquito nets, if they wash their hands and faces, and they shyly smiled the whole time, they were beautiful.  We visited a school in this community as well, three classrooms for 350 children.

Honestly I am happy to be away from it all right now; sometimes it can be too much for me.  However, our field staff here who work in these situations everyday for miniscule amounts of money are heroes.  They’re dedication to this work and to these children is an inspiration to me and despite how much I’ve asked, “where are you God” they’ve shown Him to me…

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