I’d slept well. I came back from Kinshasa two weeks ago, Judith is still trying to get from Mbandaka, back to Basankusu, but her boat still hasn’t set off. Meanwhile I’m holding the fort in Basankusu at the House (Centre2) and hospital end, while Laeticia continues to do sterling work at the main centre.
I reluctantly woke up at 5:30. It was light, and people were already moving. We had a lightning strike on the main phone provider two months ago and it still hasn’t been resolved. I bought a SIM for ORANGE but the connection is painfully slow and works best; it works best at night. Unfortunately, I seemed to have missed that clear window. It seems that 5:30 is too late!
Today is Friday. Our centre runs a supplementary feeding programme. That means we don’t cook every day. We cook for our moderately malnourished children Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. For more severe cases, and of course those in hospital, we give money for the other days, advise and supervise what the parents cook themselves for their children. However, we still have lots to do on non-cooking days.
At 6:00 I switched off my phone and drifted once again into dreams. I woke again at 6:30 and started to think of children in hospital. These are the children we’ve agreed to treat at our feeding centre, but need medical treatment to get rid of underlying conditions first. The doctors decide which children need to be hospitalised. The hospital gives each child a bed, and the mother, or even both parents and a couple of younger children might stay with them. The nurses and doctors do their rounds, seeing to injections and drips, until the day they’re ready to transfer back to our centre. Nothing’s free, of course, and we get a bill from the hospital at the end of each month. The bill for September is £750!
We had 5 children in hospital until two days ago, until one sadly died. Now there were 4. I started to think of each one in turn. One had made good progress; she’d go to our centre soon. Our frequent visitor, Brigitte, who has Sickle Cell Disease, was doing great after a crippling bout of malaria – she’ll certainly go home today! Then another child … new skin had emerged where the old skin had sloughed off … probably needs longer in hospital. Finally, Glodi – he’d developed bacterial meningitis whilst in hospital and had lost the use of on arm. The nurses have assured me it’ll come back. We’ll see. I was mostly worried about him. Mama Angel was getting ready to take them each their bread and warm milk – I’d go there after breakfast to see how they were, and to give them money to buy food with. The children’s parents would cook it outside on firewood, at the hospital.
At 6:30, two buckets of water arrived, one hot, one cold, for my morning wash. As I started to get washed, I heard two women crying! Then it became a passionate wailing. I knew someone had died. Was it one of the four children? Was it someone else? It sounded very close – it was coming from our yard.
I was still washing when Mama Angele came to the bathroom door. She told me about a family that had arrived from Waka, 50 miles away, at 5:30. They came on foot, sleeping along the way. The little boy was extremely malnourished and the parents were peeling off his skin, (Now, we’re all used to seeing skin sloughing off because of acute malnutrition, but we always leave it to fall off itself!) It left him with sores all over. The boy asked for a drink. Mama Angele said she gave him a cup of water, which he drank very quickly. She asked them to sit for a while in our yard until I could come out to see them. A few minutes later he breathed his last and Mama Angele came to tell me.
I quickly rinsed away the shampoo and got dressed. I decided it would be better if they didn’t see me. They’d wrapped the little boy in a cloth and I sent Angele to give them some money. My heart was beating fast as I handed her £15 for the taxi motorbike back home.
Our niece, Stage, came to sit with me for breakfast, which helped to calm things down a little. We have bread from a micro-bakery next-door. I bought jam in Kinshasa and carried my Tetley teabags all the way from England. Mama Angele told me there was a mother and baby waiting for me outside. We often get mothers coming along, hoping to get looked after when they’re no longer able to breast feed. One had arrived yesterday. Her milk had dried up and she’d been feeding the baby on black tea with sugar in it. She reached into her bag and produced a filthy baby’s bottle, full of tea! It was a good opportunity to give her advice on hygiene, preparing the bottle and so on. I gave her something for milk and told her she should carry two made up bottles everywhere she went, and so on! Sadly, we don’t have the funds to take charge of each case that comes in like this.
I went out into the yard and found today’s young mother with a beautiful little girl. I was already smitten! Yes, mum’s milk had stopped, but very recently, and the baby was already 4½ months old. Normally, babies should only start solid foods like baby cereal at 6 months – but when we have no other choice we start them at 4 months. I asked her if she knew how to make gruel from cornmeal. She said she didn’t. I said, well, did she know how to make fufu? Fufu is a staple on Congolese plates. It’s like semolina but without sugar. Again she said she didn’t. Mama Angele was listening. “What! Come on! Of course you do!” I told her to make fufu, but just add more water so that it’s runny, add some sugar and vegetable oil if you have it. We talked about caring for her baby, including treating her nappy rash. It was a pleasant change to see a baby in such good health. I gave her some money to start her off, and off she went.
I went across to the hospital to check on our hospitalised children and to dole out their daily allowance. While the children are in hospital, it’s the parents’ responsibility to cook their food in the hospital grounds, on firewood. Three children are in one room. Each child’s mother, or sometimes both parents and a couple of younger siblings share the bed with the sick child. The children are there to have their drips and injection, with doctors and nurses doing their rounds around the clock.
The one dad that’s there complained that the nurses hadn’t come around this morning. I told them that the staff did their best. The hospital is a small affair, having started its life as a medical centre setup by Mill Hill Missionary, Fr Harry Reusen. I was now the secondary hospital of Basankusu! However, the nurses have very low wages and the three doctors are all in their first two years, so don’t receive a salary yet, only bonuses. So, perhaps the nurses sometimes have problems at home and they’re delayed. This seemed to satisfy him, and the other nodded their heads to show agreement. In actual fact, all three children had finished all of their treatments. It looked promising that at least one child could be transferred to our feeding centre soon. For the second child, it was touch and go. He’d certainly need more time in hospital; he was so thin and sickly. The third child had had bacterial meningitis and was sleeping on his back showing a very swollen belly. One arm had become paralysed, but the nurses were confident he’d be able to use it again soon. He’s a great worry. A fourth child had been in the room, until a few days ago; he’d sadly died from meningitis and the bed was now empty.
I bid them farewell and moved on to see young Brigitte, in the next room. Brigitte is the little girl we took to Kinshasa and got diagnosed with a hereditary condition called Sickle Cell Disease. She was admitted five days ago, crippled with pain. Malaria was diagnosed and her treatment is now complete. She’ll be going home and back to school.
I came out of Brigitte’s room and met Madeleine’s dad. Madeleine, 9½, had arrived with her parents on Sunday evening, so we gave them a room at the malnutrition centre. She had been examined by the doctor on Monday and had her lab tests on Tuesday. All that was left was an early morning sample of wee. Dad had come along to tell the laboratory that his little girl hadn’t done a wee since waking up. For me that was worrying … but then again, perhaps they just forgot to take the sample! Her dad also wanted to know how to prepare the Oral Rehydration Treatment he’d been given for her. Oral Rehydration Treatment (ORT) is a powder that, when mixed with a litre of recently boiled water, helps to defeat diarrhoea, by helping the body to retain fluids, and is used in conjunction with dissolvable zinc tablets. I explained how to use the medicine and he was content to return to the centre.
I got back to our house again, to be greeted by lovely Plamedie. Plamedie is a 16 year old girl that we’re helping, via sponsors, through her final year of school. She’d come along with 2 classmates. Although, they’re all 16 or 17, they’re all quite thin and small – they look more like 12 year olds! Plamedie first came to us with her younger brother, Simeon. Simeon was malnourished – but so was Plamedie. She came to tell us about initial fees for the term and I said she could take the money after the weekend. I gave her money to buy fried sweet potato and the way to school!
As Plamedie and her friends left, a young couple with a four year old boy came into our yard. The dad, a fisherman, was quite articulate, while mum sat quietly. Their child, about 3 years old, was in a distressed and distressing condition! He was arching his back with pain; below his bottom lip was a fairly big wound where he’d bitten it to bear the pain! The whites of his eyes were yellow. I had no idea what was wrong with him. What I did know was that he wasn’t suffering from malnutrition, and, that being the case, we wouldn’t accept him as a patient.
Ma Poso, comedic extra in several of my videos, came through the gate. “What do you think this is?” I asked her. She saw the colour of the boy’s eyes and immediately diagnosed Yellow Fever. Now, Yellow Fever is a serious and often deadly tropical disease. Everyone in the Congo is encouraged to be vaccinated against it. For foreigners, like me, it’s an obligation to enter the country.
I decided to give him some money to go to the Basankusu General Hospital. They’ve got better labs and it would keep him apart from our children, and out of our account.
Ma Poso took them across as she was going that way anyway. He was immediately given a blood transfusion. A few days later, they came back. Although he still needed to have quite a few injections, and have another drip to increase fluids, he was a different child! Clear eyes, no more pain – he sat calmly and looked around in a relaxed manner. They asked for money to finish the treatment, and it wasn’t a lot, so I gave it. The dad asked for money for their own food and I said, - you’ll have to find that yourself.
Ma Claude, Poso’s mother and Judith’s aunt, visited next. She’s a locally trained nurse. We just wish she’d look after herself as much as she does her patients – but that’s another story! It was her first visit since I’d come back from Kinshasa. She brought me a gift of cooking bananas (these gifts always have strings attached.)
Ennis was at our house. They’d left the hospital but her mum was just waiting for some medicines for her. I started thinking about Madeleine and how she hadn’t had a we since waking up, and was still suffering from diarrhoea … a fizzy drink might help. I sent Ennis to buy one on the corner, and one for herself. Ma Claude went along to help her.
The heat was stifling today, but, nevertheless, I walked to our malnutrition centre; it’s only ten minutes away. I gave Madeleine her soft drink and Laeticia said she’d follow up on the ORT drink. Laeticia is Judith’s sister. She lives at the centre with her husband and Marie. She looks after the daily running of the centre. I chatted with her for a while and then heard music from inside the house. Marie was dancing in front of a loud speaker. She was wearing a pair of pale blue football shorts and a black crop top. Proud of her very dark skin, the light reflected on her cleavage as she sweated away with a big smile on her face! The song was something about TikTok and she was making a video of it all! Later she told me that she wouldn’t publish it because local people would call her names. But really, she has a great physique for it. TikTok angst comes to Basankusu!
I walked back home and had lunch. Our broken phone system has disrupted my night-time sleep. The best time to send messages is between 2 and 3 am, so I was obliged to have a nap before heading out again.
When children stay in hospital we have to pay for all costs. The bill for las month is due. I came to a total of 2,553,000 Congolese francs – or £750! That’s treatment for 21 sick children!
We send our money via our Chinese friend, Huang. As he sells things in his shop, he’s able to release the cash. I felt refreshed after my nap and walked the mile and a half into town. Incidentally, it was also Huang’s birthday. He invited me to come round for the evening. My rucksack was soon heavy with banknotes. I took no chances on the return journey, and took a motorbike-taxi with the cash!
I arrived home and counted out the money for the hospital bill. Our niece, Stage was on her way out, but promised to be back well before 5pm. At 6 o’clock I’d go back across to see Huang for his birthday celebration. He’d already told me he didn’t want a lot of people, but he’d cook some fish and open a nice bottle of wine.
I got ready and waited in the yard for Stage. There was no-one else at home. 5 o’clock came and went. The sun went down and the crickets started chirping. Six o’clock! No sign of Stage.
Papy arrived with little Malimba – he also needed to leave soon, as the nightwatchman at our centre. He agreed to hold the fort and I set off.
I’d like to say I had a great time, but ‘low key’ would have been an understatement. No fish, no wine. I was served spaghetti with a fried egg on top. Well, if that’s what he wanted. After a couple of hours, I returned home.
Stage was waiting for me and wanted to drink hot milk before bed. She’d met some people and so had been delayed. She was very chatty and wanted me to tell her more fairy stories that all European children know. It’s strange to think that Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood and the Pied Piper are unknown here.
And so to bed at about 11:30.
