Babies

I’m not really sure what to call this blog or what to really write about but I want to share a few stories to help paint a better picture of what my experience here is like. I haven’t written much about my neighbors, the family whose compound I am living in, because I have been trying to figure out more about them and make the connections of who is related to whom. After three months living with this large extended family, I still haven’t figured it all out but I can give you a general idea.

The patriarch of the family is an elderly, blind man who along with his wife lives in a home that shares a wall with mine. I believe it is several of their sons and families that live in the compound. There also are two other older women that are somehow related. The kids tell me that there are four different fathers that live here but I can’t really keep them straight because I don’t spend a lot of time with them and only can identify two, one who is the traditional leader or chief for our neighborhood. Several of these men have more than one wife and there is at least one women living in the compound whose husband is away working in the city and hasn’t returned for at least a year. This is not all that uncommon in Burkina Faso as many people (especially men) migrate for work and may only return to their families once a year or less often. Anyways I think I have counted that there are eight mothers in the family ranging in age probably from 20 to 50.

The newest mother gave birth in January to a beautiful baby girl that I love to hold and play with. It has been fun to see how she is growing into her role as mother but also makes me realize how different our lives are as she is a year younger than me and has had very little education. She is the only woman in the family that speaks any French though and we still struggle to communicate. She brought her baby, Lohaimato, in for her first baby weighing last week and I was excited to record that she is a healthy weight. I hope to say the same when I leave in two years and when she will complete her monthly weigh-ins at the health center. The other mothers all have children ranging in age from a few months to late teens. The oldest girl in the family is 19 and finishing up middle school; its not uncommon for youth to start school when they are older or to repeat grades. She is the child of relatives that live in a different village though and has been living with her extended family for the last five years to attend school. Her brother also lives in the compound and is the teacher at the madarasa (Islamic school) in my village.

Another woman in my family gave birth in my family last week, two days before I left for IST. This is the first wife of the man whose second wife gave birth in January. Another girl! By reading the woman’s health card I learned that this was her seventh pregnancy, she already has two older children that I play with, has had three children that have died, and has had one miscarriage. She does not know her age but I can’t imagine she is much over 30. It is so sad to hear about how many pregnancies she has had. I have read about Burkina’s high infant mortality rate but its not the same as when I meet women that have lost multiple children.

I guess the delivery went well and she walked home with the baby a few hours after giving birth. Again this is not unusual here! Thankfully most women are now giving birth at the health center though this wasn’t the case only a few years ago. Part of the increase is due to education and part because the government now subsidizes a good chunk of the cost to the health center. It now costs 900 CFA (about $2) for a normal delivery.

The day after the baby was born, several of the women called me over to see it and tell me it was sick. According to Bissa and Muslim tradition, babies are kept inside for 7 days after birth and no visitors are welcomed until the baby-naming ceremony and baptism when they are a week old. Therefore I was surprised that they wanted me to see the baby. They were concerned because her body was hot and they didn’t know what was wrong. The family knows I work at the health center and assumes I am a medical professional even though I have said I am not a nurse. I pulled out my “Where There Is No Doctor” book to try to learn why a newborn might have a fever. My immediate response was to go to the health center but they wanted to wait to see if it would go away. My book said that a fever over 103 degrees was a sign of an infection so I took the temp and it was at 104! They had the baby all wrapped up in clothes and fabric like they always do with infants. I told them to take the clothes off and try to cool her off by putting wet clothes on her head and showed her a picture from the book of this. They didn’t want to since this goes completely against what they are used to doing. They asked about giving her cholorquine, an anti-malarial they purchased at the market. I convinced them that it wasn’t a good idea since it would be too difficult to measure how much to give such a tiny baby and I didn’t think malaria was the concern. I didn’t know what to do but was so scared for this one day old baby, especially after reading about how many of the mother’s other children had died. I was worried I might be over-reacting and letting my American culture to always go to the doctor influence my advice to the family. They didn’t want to go in so I went to get advice from my midwife. She said the baby probably had an infection and needed antibiotics right away so I went home to tell the family. By having the older children translate this to the mother and agreeing to go with mom and baby to the health center, I finally convinced them to go.

I didn’t realize at the time what I was agreeing to by saying I would go with. We walked to the health center and I found the midwife who had already gone home for the evening to come back and see the baby. She wrote out prescriptions and the mother handed me the sheet. I was confused but walked to the pharmacy with her. When it came time to pay there was some confusion and I told the pharmacist she was paying. He asked her in Bissa for the money and from what I could understand of her response she thought since I told her to go and said I would come too, I would being paying for the medications. I agreed to pay for the medications because she had brought no money. It totaled about $7, a very little sum but probably what they would pay for two weeks of food here and what I spend in a month in village. Its not a big deal that I paid but it is so representative of situations I constantly face in village.

Multiple times in a day I am being asked for things: clothes, food, money, bike, a relationship, etc. It makes me uncomfortable and I am never sure how to respond. I want to help people but know that me giving them things is not sustainable and is not going to help them in the long run. Peace Corps’ philosophy is to work with the community, not to just give stuff. So many NGOs (Non-governmental Organizations) come to Africa and drop off huge quantities of goods and then leave. This is not how Peace Corps works and is definitely not what I want to do while I am here. I know that many of you at home would be willing to donate money or items to my community but if I give it to them, they will think I am just like any other NGO. There may come a time in the future that I do ask for donations after I have been here longer and have been able to start projects along with the community but not at this point. I hope that this makes some sense to all of you living in the land of consumerism. I work so hard in village to show that I am trying to live at their level. I purposefully don’t buy soda or treats in village because I don’t want to seem like I have a lot of excess money (and the cokes are warm so not so refreshing!). I do buy what I need and enjoy treats that I get in Ouaga and from care packages (and I LOVE my care packages!!!!) but I don’t want everyone to know about these delicacies because I can’t share with everyone and I don’t want to perpetuate this idea of the rich American. I do try to share occasionally but its hard to find a balance. I am rich by their standards even though my Peace Corps stipend attempts to have me live at their level. For people that have no jobs, any income is more than they are used to.

Last week I also met with a group of villagers to discuss the community’s needs related to health. I thought for a long time about what question to ask to start our discussion and finally decided on “What can we do to improve the health of the community?” I expected answers such as educate the population on specific health topics such as malaria, hygiene, HIV/AIDS or increase the number of outreach visits to other villages served by the community. The group I spoke with brought up a lot of things including those I had expected but when it came down to deciding on the most important thing, they told me they needed a hanger for people waiting at the health center (can’t think of what we call this but its like an awning or a picnic shelter at the park). When pressed on how this would improve the health, no one could explain it to me but they were sure that it would and that it was needed. I was obviously very frustrated and felt that the color of my skin and my nationality were sending the message that I would be able to buy things for them instead of work with them on projects. The discussion was basically left at that once I started asking what we would do together to build this and they realized I would not be paying for it on my own.

So back to the new baby…they put her on an IV anti-malarial treatment along with antibiotics and she spent the night at the health center with her mom and grandma. I stopped by the next morning before I had to leave village and her fever was down. I am really hoping that she is happy and bigger when I see her after three weeks. I posted a picture from the day she was born and will try to take another when I get home. I believe I made the right decision to pay for her medications because she really needed it and I was worried about her family waiting to take her in. I may also have been able to show them that it was important and necessary to get care before it is too late. At the same time, I am afraid that I taught them that if they wait long enough and I am scared enough for the health of their children, I will take the kids in and pay for their care. I don’t want to be pessimistic but its hard not to be sometimes when you are constantly asked for stuff.

I would love to hear comments and opinions from you guys—former PCVs, others that have been in similar situations, and friends and family that may struggle to relate to what I am going through. What would you have done? What can I do in the future to encourage utilization of the health center without involving money? What are your thoughts?