My internet ran out last night. Apparently our router or modem or something blew, so they got a new one, which meant new passwords that I never got, so I was internet-less for a grand total of 16 hours until I got to work (where the internet worked for exactly 15 minutes before going off for an hour). Imagine, the horrors.
In reality, I’m continually impressed by the access and availability of internet. Granted, I live in my little bubble of NGO worker life, which basically means you’re assured internet wherever you go (how else could we possibly function in this field?! << sarcasm. (sort of)).
All of this means that I wasn’t able to pass on my experiences at a local PHCC in Juba within minutes of attending. A delegation from abroad came and this was our “show and tell” site for them. New site for me though. Is in Juba city, but off in one of the tribal settlement areas (not sure exactly how it’s classified). The road to get here is actually worse than the Terekeka roads, since it basically just exists from randomly winding around tukuls until it arrives at the PHCC (where it then ends).
This facility seems pretty well run – medicines, EPI (vaccines) center, lab for testing, maternal and child health wing, etc. Apparently our delegation rep was less than impressed, particularly by the fact that most women still don’t deliver in a facility, even when a PHCC is available. But that’s a post for another day.
In the meantime, enjoy some more pictures (and yes, I asked if it was okay to take these pictures):
This is the area where people (usually women and children) wait for their lab results. 40% of all visits to health facilities in South Sudan are malaria-related. At this facility, 75% of all lab results are positive for malaria.
All facilities give out LLITN to pregnant women and children, but millions still contract the disease every year. In fact, there are quite a number of aid workers who will take prophylaxis, sleep under nets, and still contract the disease themselves. Stupid plasmodium.
This was the first field visit I’ve done with a group of more than 5 or so people (there were probably 15 of us), and more noticeably, all but 2 of us were white Americans. I felt very uncomfortable with the delegation who was visiting all taking pictures and being somewhat voyeuristic. Most of the pictures I took were before the delegation arrived, and I specifically requested permission for each one, especially of any patients. The downside of my job is that I’m *supposed* to be taking pictures to document things, and I understand the delegation is as well. But it’s more than a little uncomfortable when the demographics are 15 white people taking pictures of all the poor, sick Sudanese. Blech.