The next
morning he did seem sick and a neighbor told his mom to take him to the clinic.
She had spent the previous day there, so that day she really felt she should work
the land in order to have food for her family that evening. She couldn’t afford
another day at the clinic. In the evening her boy-friend rushed them
to us on his motorbike, with the boy suffering fever seizures. Our head-nurse
and I stood over his body, knowing we were looking in vain for signs of life and trying to think up the least painful way to tell his mother. When she heard, she
broke down in tears of desperate regret and sorrow. She spent some time
running, trying to process the pain that swept over her. I sat next to his wrapped little body with my hand on his
chest. I soaked in some of Africa's pain for a while. I watched the nurse pack
away some things as tears were running from her eyes. She has not been able to
get used to the hopelessness she often gets to see. Thank God for that.
Malaria. If
a child continues playing and doesn’t fret too much while having high fevers at
night, you may not even notice that malaria is busy taking your kid. Especially
if there are bigger, louder children around, taking all the attention. We
noticed from feeling this boy’s enlarged spleen after he died, that he must
have had quite a few feverish nights. He taught me to, in future,
manually examine every child’s belly to look for this sign. Give the
anti-malaria tablets in time, and they will live. Have them sleep under a mosquito net and malaria can be prevented.
It’s a wild
world, where children die from preventable diseases without anyone noticing.
What to tell a mother in a place like that? “You should’ve come sooner...”? She’s
learnt that the hard way too.
Caustic
soda is another killer in Liberia. People use it to make soap, but sometimes
they forget to store it away from children. Well, it’s not like the average
Liberian household has plenty of cupboards with locks on them. Baby Susan drank
from a cup that had been used for caustic soda. Her mother came running to the
clinic with her and thankfully she was not too late. I’m guessing Susan hadn’t
drunk too much of the stuff. Or maybe it’s because we prayed with all our
might. All we could do for the rest was make her drink plenty of milk and give
her some anti-inflammatory tablets. Had she needed surgery, there would’ve been little hope for her. She made it
and her mother followed our advice to come back to the clinic for a check-up
the next day. It was only then that I realized I had assisted Susan’s birth,
during my previous visit to Rivercess. Encouraging to see some of these little
ones make it!
You can help, you know? There’s opportunities to give: www.benyoh.nl
Or check out Drive Against Malaria and find out how preventable malaria is. Exciting stuff is going on with the Roll Back Malaria partnership, speaking out for a malaria-free world.
Or check out Drive Against Malaria and find out how preventable malaria is. Exciting stuff is going on with the Roll Back Malaria partnership, speaking out for a malaria-free world.
Apparently,
little Anna (preemie of 2014. see Liberia 2014) has also been sighted at
the clinic. She left us being way too small to be
‘independent’ and sent into the wild, but showed up about a year later. I'm sorry I wasn't there to meet her again, but one of our co-workers remembered her as "my little baby" and was able to tell me that she made it through that first risky year of her life. Her
mother may be one of the most eager learners I’ve worked with in
Liberia. She has not been to school, but makes sure her kids will go and I trust her to make a contribution to a stronger next generation.
