small victory

Last Wednesday at Magu District Hospital, I saw a 2 year old boy who had been diagnosed with HIV only one day before.  When I first saw him, he was strapped onto his mother’s back with a colorful kanga.   

As the mother removed the child’s clothes, it was obvious that he was severely malnourished.  Each individual rib was clearly visible and his arms were like twigs. There was hardly any flesh on his bones. The clinical officer and I measured his weight, 14 pounds. We told mom that her son needed malnutrition therapy--fast. And since Magu District Hospital did not have a malnutrition program, we would need to send him to Bugando.

The mother’s immediate response was that she had no money for the 60 km trip to Mwanza. The majority of families here can barely afford the cost of transportation from home to a hospital.  And so they try to wait illnesses out at home, hoping for the best.  

I suggested that they ride back with us in the hospital jeep, but she was still hesitant. She had two other children at home and worried about finding care for them. I stressed how serious her son’s condition was, and that if we left him at home, he would probably die soon. I told the mother to join us in 2 hours if she could somehow arrange care for her other children. 

Two hours passed and there was no sign of her. Cecily and I decided to wait a little longer, but we had low expectations. After 15 minutes, we checked the waiting room again, and to our delight saw the mother carrying a plastic bag of clothes and the boy on her back. In the car, I gave the mother my black cherry and walnut Clif Bar--which she ate right away. After I helped her register at Bugando, I bought some bread, milk and bananas for her. 

We see so much suffering and death here every day that it's important to celebrate every small victory. I was very thankful that on this day, this particular boy was given a chance to live at least a little longer.