Nutrition Day

Today is Tuesday. Tuesday is Nutrition Day at the clinic where people bring their babies who are malnourished, and they are weighed and given a food powder or formula according to their percentile weight and arm measurement. I was “invited” up to clinic by Allsion, the nurse, to check on Ganolle. The news was not good, and they put in a feeding tube this morning. They are contacting her father that he needs to come. She may still turn around, but it needs to happen soon…I am constantly struck by the attitude here regarding life and death. The average babies born to women in Ethiopia is six. THE AVERAGE ! The median age is sixteen. The median age in the US is thirty seven ( I may have made that up, but it is somewhere in the mid-thirties). These women are used to death. In fact, we were shocked when an Ethiopian nurse responded to Allsion's request for the father of Ganolle to come by saying, "Why bother him with this and have him walk all this way if she is just going to die." In America, Ganolle would have doctors upon doctors scrambling to save her. It would be a big deal. Allison is doing everything she can, but there is a general acceptance of death here that just isn't present in the US.

I wandered outside to the Nutrition Day happening outside...primarily to get away from the smells of the inside of the Clinic and suddenly found myself with a job. I was to measure around the arms of the infants, children, and an occasional widow to see if they are putting on at best, or holding at least, their weight. This was really an in-your-face view of Africa and everything you’d expect to see based on the documentaries in Africa: distended bellies, hollow eyes…some better than others. A few cases of malaria, undiaganosed yucky stuff, potential cases of Tuberculious which, I am told, often presents itself as Failure to Thrive in babies. By the way, most of the babies were not very happy after being placed in the "weighing bucket" naked and then swinging around seperated from their mother until their weight is recorded, so when I got to them, most were crying and not very happy to have their arm extended for a measurment. I was told that malnourished babies don’t smile and I was relieved when I got some to smile at me as I took their measurements. Meg, Heather, Anna, John, and Tex all came up to the Clinic, but the kids didn’t last long. It was very hot out, with the blazing African sun magnifying the smells. They were okay with what they were seeing, but decided that hunting warthogs was more to their liking, and I don’t blame them. I left the clinic to go home for lunch. I walked home with my hands outstretched to remind myself not to rub my eyes with my dirty hands. Genet had cooked for us Doro Wat, a spicy chicken dish, cabbage and potatoes, injerra (the sour bread that you use to pick up your meal rather than using a fork), and a few other things that I have no idea what they are called. Quite a filling meal on a stomach that had a rough morning at the Clinic. Delicious, I have to admit.