A few weeks ago I was greeting some villagers in their concession when I noticed a young mother holding a severely malnourished child. It was her son who is around 14 months old who has a severe form of malnutrition called kwashiorkor. I counseled the mother on the importance and urgency of taking the child to the health center but in the meantime making oral rehydration solution to stop the child’s diarrhea and a healthy weaning porridge to give the child much needed nutrients.
After a couple of days the mother had made neither so I had a meeting with the family and decided that I would escort the mother and child to the health clinic. That morning, another villager had the woman and child get on the back of his bicycle and I rode mine the 11km to the health hut in a neighboring village. I went in to see the doctor along with the mother but as soon as he saw the child he said that there was nothing he could do for him, that the child needed to be referred to a larger health facility that worked specifically with malnourishment.
The next step was another family meeting where I explained to the parents and grandparents that if they did not take the child to the Dosso hospital immediately than he would surely die. They gathered enough money for the bush taxi ride and the mother, grandfather and child left the next day.
For Nigeriens who live out in the bush, a hospital is something completely foreign to them. They normally give birth in the village and get their medicine from a traditional healer.
A week after they had left for Dosso, I traveled there to check up on the child. The mother was still very nervous and wary about being at the hospital and said that her son had not recovered at all. This was not the case as her son had completely stopped throwing up and having diarrhea. The hospital staff provided medicine for the child, food for the family and a place to sleep, all free of charge. I was able to get a doctor to come and explain to the mother the importance of being at the hospital for the child’s sake, even if it took six months for the child to recover which is normally the recovery time for severely malnourished children. I basically told the mother that the child would most certainly die, and soon, if she did not stay at the hospital. I headed back to the village but promised to return in a week to check up on the child again.
Six days later I was hanging out in the village when someone told me that Rabi, the mother, had returned with her child. I was completely distraught and could not believe that after only 13 days they returned to the village when the doctor told them that they would need to stay for several months. Once again I had a family meeting where the grandfather told me that they tried but the baby wasn’t recovering so they ended up going to a traditional healer. They received a certain tree bark which they were supposed to pound into a powder, mix it with water and have the child drink it and bathe with it; this was supposed to cure the child’s malady.
So it goes in the village and in Niger, but I have to have patience and effort and continue to encourage the mother to make healthy porridges for the child; not the recommended solution but better than millet alone. All I can do is hope and pray for the best for Issufu, the poor little boy.
After a couple of days the mother had made neither so I had a meeting with the family and decided that I would escort the mother and child to the health clinic. That morning, another villager had the woman and child get on the back of his bicycle and I rode mine the 11km to the health hut in a neighboring village. I went in to see the doctor along with the mother but as soon as he saw the child he said that there was nothing he could do for him, that the child needed to be referred to a larger health facility that worked specifically with malnourishment.
The next step was another family meeting where I explained to the parents and grandparents that if they did not take the child to the Dosso hospital immediately than he would surely die. They gathered enough money for the bush taxi ride and the mother, grandfather and child left the next day.
For Nigeriens who live out in the bush, a hospital is something completely foreign to them. They normally give birth in the village and get their medicine from a traditional healer.
A week after they had left for Dosso, I traveled there to check up on the child. The mother was still very nervous and wary about being at the hospital and said that her son had not recovered at all. This was not the case as her son had completely stopped throwing up and having diarrhea. The hospital staff provided medicine for the child, food for the family and a place to sleep, all free of charge. I was able to get a doctor to come and explain to the mother the importance of being at the hospital for the child’s sake, even if it took six months for the child to recover which is normally the recovery time for severely malnourished children. I basically told the mother that the child would most certainly die, and soon, if she did not stay at the hospital. I headed back to the village but promised to return in a week to check up on the child again.
Six days later I was hanging out in the village when someone told me that Rabi, the mother, had returned with her child. I was completely distraught and could not believe that after only 13 days they returned to the village when the doctor told them that they would need to stay for several months. Once again I had a family meeting where the grandfather told me that they tried but the baby wasn’t recovering so they ended up going to a traditional healer. They received a certain tree bark which they were supposed to pound into a powder, mix it with water and have the child drink it and bathe with it; this was supposed to cure the child’s malady.
So it goes in the village and in Niger, but I have to have patience and effort and continue to encourage the mother to make healthy porridges for the child; not the recommended solution but better than millet alone. All I can do is hope and pray for the best for Issufu, the poor little boy.
2 comments:
Hi,
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Email me if you'd like A3 black and red copies sent to your postal address.
Bon courage, Jane
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