Vulnerable Children we Meet

Dear friends and family,
My mother has a best friend who once shared with me that while at her native village in Nigeria she sometimes eats in the shadows because many children can watch her eat, who do not have food of their own. Usually she would share most of her food with the children, but sometimes she would have to eat herself. I can understand how she feels. While eating at the popular restaurant in town called Sun City one can see children and sometimes adults come to watch you eat in the hopes that you can provide them some food, which you had abandoned on your plate. It is hard for me to get used to children begging, even for a hardened New Yorker who bypasses the homeless nearly everywhere in her native city. (For me, I can readily recall my memory of the homeless infant on the sidewalk in Cebu City, Philippines who was nonchalantly stepped over by harried workers during rush hour.) Yesterday, while eating lunch at Sun City I met two girls. They had stood outside in the heavy rain waiting while we ate. The tried to get our attention silently with their eyes, so that we could possibly know that they were very much hungry. We called for the girls to join us at the table. I could not eat half of my meal while the children were looking on. One girl, 10 years old, was so tiny for her age. Barefoot. A beautiful girl, yet disfigured by an apparent burn covering many parts of her body. She recounted her grim tale to us without much emotion in her voice, but her eyes shared that she had known much pain. Her elder sister had grown tired of helping to care for her and threw her in the fire that was meant to heat her food. Her mother lives in Dar and her father doesn’t like her. Her grandmother is now her caretaker, but is so old that she cannot prepare their meals. We had to take the fish off the bones for her so that her disfigured hands could place the food in her mouth. The other girl turned out to be a young lady – age 19. She lives with her stepmother. Since no one wants her, no one will feed her. She begs on the street for food. She has never attended school. We hope to be able to offer her some help at our agency.

I am actually quite dismayed that some of the women I have encountered here have a difficult time counting money, especially large bills. Some too have a problem with simple reading and writing.

On several occasions I was able to visit the regional hospital. Yesterday I was able to visit the laboratory. Due to the highly resilient malaria which one can encounter in Kigoma, it is advisable to get tested for your parasite load in the blood once one suspects the ill effects of the disease. One medical provider informed me of his own personal battles with malaria. He and his 10 year old daughter (she is still quite ill) recently went through several regiments of standard treatments, which had no effect on the parasite. Fortunately they could afford to go through several courses before finding the cure. His daughter is on the road to recovery and is missing many school days. Unfortunately his friend, a local teacher, chose to take one drug course without frequent testing of the blood to confirm the efficacy of the meds, and the infection spread to her brain as cerebral malaria, and she consequently died. Due to misinformation people chose to treat the symptoms of the disease such as taking aspirin to reduce fever and the associated aches and pains. (This is especially true for children suffering from Malaria). Completely the wrong course of action and deadly. Even Mama Nema was surprised to hear that this, which had been her usual method of treatment (before invariably breaking down and actually purchasing the correct meds), actually makes her body more hospitable for the parasite to thrive!

On a, I guess silly or less serious (?) sidebar, I often complain about my own status or, more appropriately, my non-status in the community. As an unmarried woman with no children I am not considered to be a matured (read: real or complete) woman. Hence, I have no formal title. I know I shouldn’t take this personally, but this cultural caveat is particularly irksome to me. Nail gratingly irksome.

I might soon be starting some sort of Swahili class. I hope I do begin formal training and I hope it works! I am picking up a few useful phrases ☺

PS Am I the only person who doesn’t know well the story of “Where Livingston met Stanley.” Well Kigoma is where. If you know better than I, please don’t hold your tongue.

Love
Christie
Originally posted: Wednesday, April 29, 2009 at 6:36pm