An unplanned trip to Illela (Part 2)

9/17/09

So. This morning was the longest time I've spent at the infant malnutrition ward. There are five women staying there right now: Habi (in her 3rd week!) with daughter Samsiya, Salamu with son Abu Zaidi, and three women with their babies from other bush villages. One of the women has eight month old twins; one is a normal weight and well developed. The other, a little boy, has bright eyes and seems alert but weighs less that 2 kilograms. While these women stay at the hospital, they are under the stern but compassionate eye of Nurse Hajara. Hajara administers medicines, weighs the babies every day, tells the mothers when and what to feed them. Depending on the age and ability of the babes, they are fed fortified milk, or a peanut-butter like paste, or a combination of the two. Babies who won't drink are force fed; babies who will eat eventually get fed bits of fish and egg. When they reach a weight and health that Hajara approves, they are allowed to go home. Everything is paid for by the government.

When Habi came with 5-month old Samsiya 2 weeks ago, the top of Samsiya's skull was so sunken in you could have filled it with a half cup of water. She weighed 3.8 kilograms (sorry guys, how much is that in pounds? 8?). Today I got to watch Hajara weigh her again- she is now a whopping 4.0 kilos and will be released when she makes it to 4.3. Hajara said that Habi is the best of all of the mothers at making sure Samsiya is getting better. I was really, really happy to hear that. Salamu was smiling this morning; Abu Zaidi already looks better. She told me today that he had passed out three times yesterday, and she thought he had died. But now he's drinking canned milk and getting a whole smorgasbord of medicines and vitamins. It is too soon so guess at how he will do, but I sure do trust Hajara, and I think she'll know what to do for this babe. Habi and Samsiya will probably be home within the week, and hopefully Salamu and Abu Zaidi won't be far behind.

Some of you who read this blog last year may remember that September, October, and November were hard months for mothers and babies. One difference this year is that women seem more aware of where they can get help. It could be my imagination, but I think that perhaps some of the negative stigma- associated with revealing that your child is malnourished- is fading in my village. I hope so. I'll probably write about this again; I sure think about it a lot.

An unplanned trip to Illela (Part 1)

I wasn't planning on coming to Illela today, although I did want to
come up here sometime soon to visit Habi and Samsiya at the hospital.
What happened was: yesterday evening at about 6, an older lady found
me at Narba's and asked me if I'd take another woman and her son to
the hospital.

I got up to go see what was going on; it turned out the woman and her
baby were already sitting in a truck on the road.  The woman, whom I
recognized but didn't know that well, had tears all down her face and
was holding her son, a tiny bundle on her lap.  Someone handed me a
note from the nearbly clinic; it had "severe malnutrition, admit to
hospital immediately" written on it in French.  People were all around
us, staring at her and watching me to see what I'd do, shouting advice
like "Throw your bike in the back, you can come back in the morning!
You're in charge of things like this, you should go!"

I didn't feel like I could just jump in and go. Maybe if I had had
even 10 minutes to get ready, I could've.  But the driver was revving
his engine, impatient.  What I decided to do was run back to my house,
grab some money for the woman, Salamu, wrap it in paper, run to the
truck and give instructions on where to go when she got to Illela.  We
got Hajiya, the older lady who came to find me, to go with Salamu.
They sped off.

I joined them this morning, via my bicyle.  When I got to the hospital
I found a whole crowd of people from our village: Salamu and her son,
Abu Zaidi, plus Hajiya, and Salamu's husband Sa'idou and one of his
friends, all together with Habi and little Samsiya.  My village is
filling the infant malnutrition ward!  Not exactly something you want
to feel good about.

But.
If it's the truth that there is infant malnutrition,
which it is, then it IS good that the women are getting help.

Green: Generally Food Secure
Yellow: Moderately Food Insecure
Orange Highly Food Insecure
Red: Extremely Food Insecure
Black: Famine
Gray: No Data

Here is the FEWS map for the way things stand in Niger now. Compare it to the map from July and you can see the difference. Foloa is in the yellow zone. Although harvest season is beginning, we now face the most difficult season for infant malnutrition.

Not fasting

The village mosque

Ramadan is almost over. I tried fasting for one day, don't have the willpower or stamina for it, and gave up by noon. But I love cooking up nice meals every night to share with people- the most popular treats so far have been popcorn and boxes of raisins (courtesy of my grandpa!).

Do you like how I call popcorn and raisins 'meals'?

Don't worry, I have Narba

With Narba

Narba (who is over 70 years old!!!!) climbed over my 7 foot-tall mud wall last night at 10:45 pm because some of my neighborhood guys (Ayouba, Shaibou, Suleil, and Mustapha) thought they heard someone banging on my door. They wanted to make sure I was okay, but they didn't want to freak me out, so they woke up Narba to come check on me. I was fast asleep, oblivious to the world, until I awoke to Narba calmly asking me:

"Did some guys bang on your door?"

"Nooo-- wait, what is going on? How did you get in here? Are you OKAY???"

"I'm fine; I just climbed your wall is all. Now let me out and go back to sleep."

Turns out whoever it was didn't knock on my door at all, it just sounded like it. In case any of you ever still worry about me-- really, you don't have to.

I added a video to this post, from July, about planting. It gives you some idea of the size of the fields hand-planted in millet, and shows Mariama in action. The video was shot in June; some of this millet will hopefully be harvested soon.

Today

Today I am in Illela, site of a new internet cafe. I came to accompany a woman from my village whose 5 month old daughter is severely malnourished. They'll stay at the hospital here until, well, until the girl is better, hopefully.

My friend is Habi; her daughter is named Samsiya, after me.

Community classroom photo update

The classroom is FINISHED and it is realllly nice- shiny green doors, smooth cement steps, a roof and walls... I will send pictures asap! THANK YOU EVERYBODY!!! Letters from the kids of the village soon to follow-- if you donated to the project via check and would like a card, please send me your address! Otherwise, if you donated online, I think I have it.

Meanwhile, here are some pictures taken by my dad in early August:

This is the old classroom; the roof is made of millet stalks.

Inside the old classroom.

Bricks, handmade, and drying in the sun. They had to be sprinkled with water as they cured.

Plastering the wall

Workers

It was a lot of heavy work

Me with part of the crew in front of the new blackboard

Putting in the ceiling. This is so much better than millet stalks.

See? It looks so nice.

Working on the door frame

The building, not yet plastered or painted, from a distance.

With the crew