My Village Dispensary

"To see things in the seed, that is genius."
- Lao- Tzu

March 2, 2009

This morning I headed to my village dispensary- I have been there before but today I have decided that I am going to get involved there. We have one nurse, her name is Jessica. Turns out that today is baby weighing day. There are about 20 mamas there with tiny little babies. They harness them up to a scale in a swing like contraption to measure their weight. Jessica immediately gives me more responsibility than I am expecting and has me do the weighing and record their weights on their charts. Most of the babies weigh between 4- 4.5 kilos. Afterwards the mamas have individual consultations in Jessica's office. Sometimes it is great to be a mzungu- I am allowed to sit in on these consultations and watch, despite the fact that I am totally unqualified to be there. So much for confidentiality in stuff. The mamas come in one by one with their tiny babies. The consultation consists of looking at the baby. Asking the mama some questions, mainly "Does the baby nurse well? Did the umbilical cord heal well? Do you have any concerns or problems with your baby?" and then telling them to come back in three weeks for another weighing. Luckily, the babies I see today are totally healthy and beautiful. After this I think we are done, but Jessica tells me "Unabaki hapa" (You are remaining here) .

Then a woman comes in without a baby. She starts to unwrap herself from her kangas (The bright fabric that TZ women drape their bodies in) and I wonder what is about to take place. Then I realize that she is pregnant. For whatever reason, TZ women are great at covering their pregnancies. I think it is partly the way that they dress and partly because they gain such little weight because they are still so active that only their stomachs get fat. So anyways, she climbs onto the medieval-type check-up table and I don't really know what I am about to witness, luckily, she looks too calm to be about to give birth. She is almost naked and I am impressed by her bravery as breasts have no sexual meaning in TZ culture and women are breast feeding in public all the time, but stomachs and low backs are an extremely private part on a woman. So I am a bit surprised they are so okay for me being there to see what happens behind the closed doors. For one of the first times here, I am really thankful to be a female volunteer. If I was a male PCV I would never be able to be so involved in the women's issues in my village.

Jessica begins to warm up her hands by rubbing them together then she prods around this woman's stomach, next she uses a tape measure to measure her from breastbone to pubic bone. The measuring helps to determine how many months along the baby is. Then we use a metal funnel like thing to listen to the babies heartbeat. Then we look under the woman's eyelid to see if she is anemic. Next we check her ankles for swelling. Then the woman climbs down and redresses. For her consultation she is asked if she has concerns, how far along she thinks she is, can she feel the baby move, and how many kids she already has. For the last question, if the woman says more than three, then Jessica tells her that is too many and she needs to look into family planning, this seems very progressive for my village and I am really surprised. Jessica sets a good example and proudly tells me that she only has one daughter because that is all she can afford. We see woman after woman all of them guess they are about nine months along, except one who says she doesn't know at all but she looks similar to the rest of them. All of them are my age or younger- it is none of their first child. At the end of the consultation Jessica gives them instructions on what to bring to the dispensary when they are ready to give birth- blankets, clothes, buckets... It is about this point that I am immensely grateful that I am not about to give birth in my village.

At one point between women, Jessica looks at me and says, "You can deliver babies." She doesn't even put it in the Kiswahili question format and says it instead like a statement. I wish at this point that I had a camera on my face- "Ugh... NO!!!" She tells me that she needs to teach me because she needs someone else to deliver also. I can understand this my village is big for only one nurse, especially with all the babies they are pumping out. However, I am having a hard time picturing myself able to deliver a baby in a Tanzanian village. I am so under qualified for that job, it is ridiculous to think about. I have never even seen anyone be born, much less had any part in it myself. In PCTZ, they really throw you into the job full-force.

At the end of the day a woman my age walks in and asks for contraceptives- what? She tells me that she has three kids, so she is done. Ok. Turns out my tiny village dispensary actually has contraceptives! All of the boxes of birth control and condoms claim to be gifts from different European countries, particularly Denmark and Sweden. However, every other box, besides contraceptives, proudly proclaims "USAID- From the American People," In red, white, and blue, with the familiar hand grasp logo. Only condoms and birth control are here from European aid organizations- thank you, progressive Europeans! I hope our new administration will do a better job of supplying what is needed in Africa.

Anyways, I sort of have a blast at the dispensary. I like sitting behind the closed door and getting to listen to every one's business like I am some sort of health expert. In over my head once again, but still really fascinating stuff from a cultural perspective.