The Good and The Bad

March 23rd

Today was one of those days. You know, the kind of day where bad news just kind of filters to the surface and somehow during the day you overlook the good things until you look back on the events of the day. Its really easy to overlook these good things when news you have been waiting for is not what you want to hear or a child that was discharged from the nutrition center is brought back to you because of a leg infection. These things happen and the first thoughts of the day are “Ah, CRAP!” and “What now?” or “Where do we go from here?” and maybe a silent pleading “why!?” in the back of your mind.
The morning began by finding out that the grant we had been working so hard on through the French Embassy for a tractor was turned down. I was heartbroken. So much time, effort, and travel was put into the paperwork. This was a blow. We could have used the tractor. It would have been our Swiss army knife, so many uses. Eventually I remember a conversation I had with Beth. Thanks to her I now know that the French were not the last stop. Ghana has a program to help its farmers obtain tractors. There might be hope yet....and it might be easier than navigating the FSD application and demands. This could be good...yeah good.
Before the morning was over the rest of my day showed up at the nutrition center. One of the mothers we have been working with showed up with the child we had discharged the previous week. This case is special because the father has abandoned his five children and wife, leaving them with nothing. We are doing what we can to get them back on their feet. Karim, my local counterpart, has even taken money out of his own pocket to help them. The child has a pretty bad infection and blister like swelling on his leg. He doesn't want to walk on it, but this is a tough kid...not one tear the entire time. I go with mother and child to the clinic, their lack of health card is more likely to be overlooked with someone from the nutrition center there (or maybe just the white lady). Karim has given me money to pay for treatment and I am cursing the sun for being bright and sunny. At the clinic the staff agree to see the child without the “required green health booklet” and I am trying to not get irritated because I am still having to deflect “I want to be you friend” proposals from male nurses. The treatment prescribed involves injections and lacerating the infected area on the leg. The child is a rock star! Mom looks away everytime a needle goes in or when the nurse begins work on the leg. The child does not cry out, and still I swear not one tear shed. He has to go through this again tomorrow. The staff tell me, in a show of good will, that they will not require payment. I heard some whispered dissension among the ranks, but the decision was made. I was told before leaving that just as we at the nutrition center are trying to protect these children it should also be the duty of the clinic to do the same. This was a pretty stressful (big stress on the “ful”) afternoon. On the surface you ask yourself “how much more can this woman take?” let some good come her way. Past the surface you see that good did find its way to this mother; Karim and the nutrition center will do anything to get her and her children back on their feet and the clinic took care of her child and gave her medications without charge. Small blessings, right?
Exhausted. Tired. Hungry. Thirsty. I have been all over town. To the nutrition center twice. To the clinic (opposite side of town from the nutrition center). I am sporting a pretty good sunburn. My legs feel like jelly from all the bike riding. NAP TIME!! Phone rings. Grumble. Hello? Catherine? Yes. Please hold for John. (last time the Peace Corps office called me was because I had not notified anyone at the office that I survived the windstorm, so I am thinking to myself that John is now going to ask me why I neglected to pass on my continued living and non-injury to him). “Congratulations!” That is what John has called to tell me. My day has become a sandwich. I started it hearing about a grant proposal and now I am finishing it the same way...but this slice of the loaf is better. John has called to tell me that my grant proposal has gone through. We will have the money soon and will be able to start building next week. I celebrate with a soda. Call Karim and tell him the good news....he needed some good news for today too. Now its nap time.


March 24th

Today I went on a house call with Faruk. House calls seem to be a necessary evil. They mainly consist of of us going to a house and demanding that people find some good sense and seek out treatment for a malnourished child. However, lately a pattern has solidly emerged that pulls at the heartstrings even more than just a malnourished child.
Here is the scenario - Go into a house. 4 or 5 children live there. Can you tell which one is the orphan. (orphan here usually means that only one parent has died and the new stepfather refuses to take responsibility for the child not of his blood). If you are in the US it is probably not immediately apparent. You might look for a genetic separation such as different shape, size, color, subtle mannerisms. If you are in Ghana....the of the five children the 4 non-orphans greeted you at the door. They are healthy, curious, all that a child should be. The fifth child at first is only a vision of a retreating ankle being Harry Pottered by a guardian and going to some place out of sight. Seeing this as a clue you should follow this child. Upon finding the fifth child (and getting a good view) it is immediately apparent that this child is the orphan. S/he is the only person in the house malnourished, dirty, and carries an overall air of neglect. This child is passive, introverted, and everything a healthy child is not.
We are working with the local human rights organizations to bring greater attention to these children. Karim is the best bully I know...he bullies parents and demands that they get help for children in need of care. We are just hoping we get to these children before we lose them forever.


March 27th

I have an internal radar for rain. Its true. As a rule and a habit I do not get up in the middle of the night to pee. Middle of the night is for sleeping not peeing. Even when I worked crazy shifts and hours, whatever my night was it was for sleeping. Last night around 1am I had to pee like no other. After getting back to my house, the power was out and a few moments pass and torrential rain downpour. I think my body knows when the latrine is not going to be available for awhile. The good news is that I was not only able to collect enough water to fill my barrel, but also to fill my two water cans, my water filter, and several buckets. I used the bucket to do some much need underwear washing.
I just hope not too much of the mud walls on the poultry coop got washed away...we roof this week!