An Emergency Trip to Chipata Compound

 

“Tom, Phridae has the camera and I need to go to Chipata Compound to document the plight of this lady.  She needs to be brought to the clinic today.”  My camera sat on my roughly fabricated pine-colored-wood desk.

Two members of the women’s group had been in the office speaking to members of the staff about the need to get to Chipata Compound quickly to intervene with a young pregnant woman and get her to the clinic for testing, care and treatment.

The organization’s women’s groups’ are a cadre of women who live in all of the compounds around Lusaka.  These women become the organizations ‘foot soldiers’ in the communities identifying vulnerable children and pregnant women who are in need of medical assistance, HIV testing, care and treatment.

Compound is the term used in Zambia for local communities where most of the Zambian population lives in the Lusaka area.  These compounds can be large areas (many square miles) with intricate social, political and cultural structures.  Roads are mainly dirt/mud and would scare off even the most savvy off road, four wheel drive enthusiast.  Plumbing, sanitation, electricity windows, and organization can be lacking but having said that, it is amazing to see how life in the compound carries on. Despite what I see as chaos, children run and are playing everywhere while neighbors talk, vendors sell their wares and things seem to function.  People seem to get by.  The compound in Zambia is analogous to the townships (SOWETO and the like) found in the Republic of South Africa.

Since I had the camera and I was in no position to let Charles (our ‘photo journalist’) trek off with my prized possession, I offered to go with the women (Stella and Junia) and Charles to see for myself life in Chipata Compound, help with the intervention and see how Stella and Junia work in their community.

We boarded an official blue Lusaka City Taxi on Cairo Road for the 15-minute drive to Chipata Compound on Great North Road.  A newspaper sat on the dashboard and there was a significant shatter in the windshield.  The dashboard was blue shag.  Once we were in the cab and started off the driver kindly put on an English news program for my enjoyment I’m sure.  The Zambian’s are always kind in this way: very respectful.  The roads were chaotic as usual.  Black smoke belched from trucks and cars in front of us.  Stoplights were not working and cars darted in and out from what seemed to be all directions.  I am becoming more accustomed to this and just kept busy sending texts to organize the staff for our return.

We entered Chipata Compound and the further we drove in the more the roads deteriorated.  The taxi began to bottom out on the uneven surfaces of mud, rock and garbage debris.  “We are here,” said Stella and the taxi pulled over and came to a stop.  We got out of the car and true to form a crowd started to assemble wondering what we were doing in their neighborhood.  I think the white man in the crowd drew the most curious onlookers.  The children gathered and when they saw my camera immediately began to cluster for pictures violently pushing the other out of the way.  Children of less than 10 years old carried younger siblings.  All were filthy and mostly in tattered clothing.  Girls donned corn- row hairstyles with colorful beads.  Runny noses were flowing on most.  The youngest cried at the sight of me.  Diplomatically I started shaking hands.  The kids laughed at the thought of shaking my hand.  Others were hesitant and didn’t want to squeeze too tight.

The client’s home was not at all far from the road.  Stella went in to announce our arrival and we were motioned to come to the house.

The house was a mud and clay structure with clothing hanging outside of the entry.  The floor was dirt.  Inside the dark room were two loveseat type chairs with the velour cushion covers all but disintegrated exposing only the foam cushion.  There on the floor sat a young lady wrapped in her chitange (sorang) and a loose silky tank top.   I couldn’t see immediately the woman was pregnant.  I began to ask questions.

She was indeed pregnant.  I asked her how far along in her term she was.  Stella translated and the woman replied “nine months”.  I couldn’t believe she was nine months along but malnutrition could have a significant factor on small sized belly.  The woman was also a double amputee and had also lost her left hand.  I asked if she had any pre-natal care to which she replied through the translator “no”.  She was quite agile and moved around the room easily but I had a sense she did not feel well.  She moved on her stumps to the next room where she changed her top.  We took some pictures of her home and of the women who provided her care.

As we left the house to go to the waiting cab Stella told me the father of the child is nowhere to be found and offers no support.  Often in these cases the woman does not want to discuss this key factor and sadly the pregnancy is the result of rape or incest.  My heart sank.  I put my hand on the woman’s shoulder and said, “It’s going to be OK.  We’ll have a doctor look at you and get you care and medicine.  We will provide you nutritional support for you and the baby”.  Stella translated into Cinyanja and the lady smiled back at me.

Junia stayed behind in Chipata Compound and walked to her home and Stella, Charles, the patient and her sister got in the cab.  I walked some of the way trying to prevent the low riding taxicab from bottoming out on our drive out of the compound.  Within 15 minutes we were back at the clinic where the social welfare and medical teams surrounded the lady with loving care.

 I was able to see her following her appointments as she was wheeled out of the facility to the waiting cab.  I took her hand and squeezed it.  She said “OK”.  I talked with the clinical officer who said she is actually about seven months pregnant and did indeed test positive for HIV.  She will have to undergo a cesarean section and doctors at University Teaching Hospital (UTH) were notified of her situation.  A cesarean section will lessen the risk to the infant of contracting HIV during childbirth.  Further, this lady will immediately start antiretroviral therapies that will also allow the baby better odds at not contracting the virus.

This scenario can be repeated many, many times a day here.  This case was exceptional because of the woman’s other physical issues.  I love what I am doing.

The Retreat at Kiambi Lodge, Chirundu, Zambia

There are times I stop in my tracks and ask myself 'where in the world am I?'

I woke up yesterday morning after an incredible eleven hour slumber courtesy of a cool spring night, intermittent rain and an all night flight the night before.  Truth-be-told, I could have stayed in bed longer.  After a nice shower, a mouth full of vitamins and some eggs on toast, I finished packing for my weekend retreat to Kiambi Lodge close by the (Zambian/Zimbabwean) border town of Chirundu.  I worked on some emails in the morning before Tim arrived to fetch me for the drive.  After making our way through a crowded Lusaka. where my senses were pushed to the limit, we met up with Phridae who was waiting for us to pick him up outside the Auto World compound on the southern road out of Lusaka.

The drive was thankfully uneventful which is a lot to say on the Zambian roadways.   Tim started the drive and shortly into the ride traded with Phridae and opted for a rest in the back seat.  Just before lying down we had a bit of a scare when Phridae attempted to overtake two semi trucks and a bus on a patch of road with multiple hills one-after-the-other.  There was no possibility to get a good view of the road ahead.  The bus, which also attempted to overtake the trucks, had abandoned its futile attempt and returned to its line in the slow queue.  Seeing the opportunity to make his move, Phridae pulled out of the lineup and eked up next to the first semi.  In fourth gear and going about 30 mph while moving uphill we were clearly not making the progress I was hoping for.  I was in the front seat feeling somewhat petrified, completely out of control and that horrible feeling when you feel suspended in time, when Tim began admonishing Phridae for his poor judgment.  I couldn't help myself and said "hey Phridae, not OK"!  He got the point, apologized and speedily returned us to our rightful place in line.  A car shortly zoomed by in the opposite direction.

The Zambian roadways are dotted with the wreckage of those who have gone before us.  Everywhere lays a reminder of just how dangerous driving can be in Zambia.  Shells of rusted cars lie littered both on and off the roadways any piece of salvageable part removed long ago.  The metal that remains only reminds one of the horrible event that must have transpired.  There is truck wreckage, too.  These remnants are even more dramatic to see.  As we climbed and descended a mountain pass signs were placed everywhere en-route warning truckers to use low gears and to check their brakes.  There were areas designed to help runaway trucks stop before plummeting over the side to certain doom.  As we descended around one turn in the road, a truck stood stranded, for who knows how long, in a large muddy pool seeming to be on the brink of tipping over.  The side of the mountain appeared ready to catch it if it did.  At one point the water was up over the tires and the cargo container remained intact on the bed of the truck.  It was consumed by the water like a fly caught on fly paper.  Further a long, with no sign of the truck that was transporting it, lie a bent and mostly destroyed cargo container.  Whether some of this roadside wreckage will ever be collected is anyone's guess though I would put my money on probably not.  Hope you get the picture.

We arrived in Chirundu with no plan other than to pass through.  Chirundu is a border town only a moments walk to the bridge over the Zambezi River and into Zimbabwe.  Aside from this distinction it can be said Chirundu is a town with a high number of prostitutes and long-haul truckers making the trip from various far reaches of southern Africa into and out of Zambia and beyond.  It is border towns like this or where roads from different points on the map converge at a literal cross-roads throughout Zambia that HIV infection and prevalence rates still run rampant among the local populations.  Shortly after we arrived into Chirundu the two-lane highway ended and we were on rough dirt road up to the pontoon crossing at the Kafue River.  There we met the bus that was carrying our colleagues.  To my surprise they were in good spirits--very good spirits.  "Well, why not, it is Friday afternoon after all".

It was still another 30 minutes or so (sometimes having to divert off the dirt road where the recent rains have made it impassable with huge mud ponds) until we reached the turn off for Kiambi Lodge.  Once we drove into the gate we drove directly to our cottage.  It is an impressive clay structure finished in stucco with a high pitched thatch roof.  Real African.  It is a circular building with cement floors and lacquered wood doors, trim and staircase leading to the bedroom loft above.  There are no glass windows only a mesh netting strung across the large opening around the cottage perimeter.  It is rounded out well with all the comforts of a cement bathroom and fully appointed kitchen.

I immediately set my eyes on the patio area surrounded by green grass, lush vegetation and trees.  Literally on a bluff just above the river's edge there is a fire pit, bar-b-que and a half circle of camouflage green camping chairs under the trees set up to allow one to take in the magnificent view of the mighty Zambezi.  I could tell a perfect African sunset was shaping up to take us into the night.  I walked to the edge for a look down the slope and to the river.  There to greet me and make me jump high was a four-plus foot water monitor lizard.  Equally as freaked out by me as I was by it, it too made a quick and loud dash into the brush from its sunny perch.  "OK, we are in nature" I reminded myself as I made my way quickly back to the car to haul stuff into the cottage.  Oh, how I could hear some certain friends having a laugh about this!  I did see it had made its way back to its perch awhile later.

After a lovely buffet meal (LOL) prepared by the chefs here at the lodge (and a few gin & tonics before, during and after the meal) I made my way back to the cottage to write.  I actually wrote a couple of hours and the entire bit was lost when I lost connectivity and the blog wasn't saved.  I've only sorted out today, and while writing this, that I lose connectivity about, oh say, every three to four words written.  I must either stay put in a certain area of the cottage with clear access to the lodge's reception/lobby area (sitting on a certain rather uncomfortable, heavy wooden couch with cushions) and even at times contort in the area to seek the magic wireless connection.  I have held the laptop above my head seeking the elusive signal.  Each time I have to reconnect in order to save the blog from cyber-oblivion.  Once it reconnects I have to quickly drag the cursor to the "save now" button while I keep my eye on the all-important-signal-icon and hope I don't lose bars before the save is complete.  Maddening.  There is a significant lesson in all of this for me I tell myself!

I somewhat overslept this morning.  The Chi Gong alarm tone on my Blackberry was not enough to wake me over the outdoor rhythms of nature and the hum of my oscillating floor fan.  Tim knocked at 0825 asking if I wanted to go to breakfast.  Serves me right for trying to wake to a pleasant sound on a Blackberry still set on Pacific Standard Time (I set the alarm for 2200 meaning it would ring when it was 0800 here).  Tonight, the Zambian mobile will be set and will wake me in the morning to a loud, horrible bell.  Not the way I like to start the day...

This morning I was asked to facilitate a portion of the team building retreat.  My topic was 'defining success, the criteria for success and how one measures success and how this is conveyed to donors so the donor will be more likely to fund the program again.  Despite the late start I was feeling particularly good after my sleep and said "sure, I can do it".  The day really went well and thank goodness for Dr Hannah and her husband Tim who saved the day by offering to facilitate major chunks of time after the scheduled facilitators' car broke down yesterday about an hour outside of Lusaka.  The staff took well to the day and the topics and talked at length about what they hope the organization will look like in 5 years.  They are an impressive, energetic, loyal and fun group of young people wanting to--and indeed--making a real difference in the lives of many children in and around Lusaka.  If their dreams come true the organization could be compared in size and to the likes of any large well administered international non-governmental organization (INGO) operating in Zambia today.  I hope their dreams come true.

Tim & I opted for a quick dip in the pool over the lunch break as the sun was shining brilliantly hot.  Everyone here is still trying to recover a bit from the previous 7 days straight of rain in Lusaka kicking off the rainy season here not only a bit early but with a vengeance.  We finished the agenda by 1600 and everyone filed to the cottage for G&Ts before our game cruise on the river.  When it is 'Miller time' here you best get out of the way.  People loaded up on drink and descended the cement stairway to the river's edge.

We took two boats out and it felt awesome to be on the water.  I had my shirt off and was soaking in the last bit of sunshine for the day.  I was pleased to look back from the bow where I was sitting to see 4 out of 5 other guys had taken their shirts off as well.  They either had to think I was a fool and they would humor me by following suit or thrilled that they had an excuse to bare their torsos.  OK, I still don't know which it is but I can tell you the Zambians are quite modest.  Leave it to me.

We saw an abundance of hippo and elephant but came across only one crocodile and from a bit of a distance.  The environment was amazing and I found myself soon in a most remarkable head space; relaxed, peaceful, content and enthralled by where I was and what I was seeing.  A real gift, a moment to savor and take in.  My fellow cruisers were a bit loud and overtly expressive.  The girls feigned with fear of the water and the guys laughed.  I have come to find out most Zambians are quite afraid of the water and don't know how to swim.  So the nervous energy probably applied equally to both the women and men in this case.  What a treat it is to pick up on these nuances.  I love that about different people & places!

We had another nice meal this evening and here I sit continuing to contort on the lounge trying to save this blog for what will be one of the last times today.  What an incredible place in which I find myself tonight.  So much to be thankful for not the least of which are the rich experiences I take in here at Kiambi Lodge outside of Chirundu, Zambia.

Good night.