We Always Have it Better

The day started off just great.

First we got kicked out of our hotel. Apparently, Nancy and I were such troublemakers that the Florida International Hotel (I kid you not, that was the name) decided we were not welcome. Only kidding on the former—we were NOT trouble makers. But the latter is true. I guess a giant bus tour group that needed every room looked better to the Florida than those of us individuals and so Nancy and I and two other parties were, literally, kicked out (chalk it all up to ‘just another African travel experience.’) Then, Nancy learned her Seattle house had been broken into during the Super Bowl—through their dog door, no less—and all her jewelry, including her 46 year-old wedding ring, had been stolen.

 Nancy at work

Okay.

So, we took a few deep breaths.

Then we demanded the Florida find us another room, which they did, after several negative tries (Gondar has, like, twenty-five hotels that are in various states of non-construction consisting of rebar sprouting from mounds of concrete. Clearly, the city needs more facilities.) We packed up and were transferred to the Kino Hotel where we are now sinking into super-soft, bottomless mattresses after sleeping at the Florida on mattresses as hard as morgue slabs. It’s hard to know what was better.

Clinic 'cafeteria'

But it’s not hard to know that we have it better, no matter what.

Today we visited Maraki Health Center on the eastern fringe of Gondar. Maraky is currently a pilot site for an ANC (Antenatal Care) and PMTCT project that is affiliated with the South Gondar Diocese out of Bahir Dar. We went to speak with the nurse that runs the clinic to find out how their system works, what the limitations are, what their needs are, and how effective they feel the program is—among many other things. The system is very interesting: priests identify pregnant women at Sunday school, female volunteers are then sent to the homes (most often monthly, on a saint celebration day when many women are gathered together) and encourage the women to come to the health center for ANC and HIV testing. All women are expected to continue with follow-up appointments for ANC; those who are HIV+ are told about prophylaxis and the importance of follow-up and treatment. Any HIV+ pregnant women who don’t follow up are ‘hunted down’ (my term) by the priests. I gathered that there is a bit of curse-related coercion that occurs on the part of the priest in order to convince the HIV+ women to return to the clinic, but so far, it seems to be working fairly well. 

Maraki receives more than a hundred pregnant women referrals per month—most of these are from urban Gondar, as women in the rural areas are nearly impossible to reach. Even so, in the last 6 months, 17 HIV + pregnant women have been identified and have been receiving prophylaxis. This past Sunday, 5 babies were delivered in the delivery room pictured below. While we were waiting for a taxi to pick us up, a teenage boy was brought to the gate of the clinic in a bajaj. He was so thin and weak he could not stand. I didn’t have the heart to take a photo of him as he collapsed in the dust and clinic staff rushed to help carry him into the waiting area. I was reminded that before we all knew what HIV and AIDS is, the disease—at least in Africa—was known as ‘thin disease.’ Indeed.

Walking to clinic

Walking to clinic

Nancy and Zerai