Tuesday, December 26

Today presents the first opportunity to do work since my arrival. I finish entering into a database the results of a survey that IMC did recently in Tambura County, and begin doing analysis for the report. Some of the findings are grim. More than 35% of respondents in one location report having to defecate in the bush due to the absence of latrines. More than a quarter have no soap. Only 16.5% of children younger than age 1 have received all recommended vaccinations. In fact, 15.7% have never received a single immunization of any type. Many children suffer from the three big killers of children under the age of 5 in Africa: acute respiratory illness, diarrhea and malaria. More than 24% of respondents (all women of childbearing age) were unaware of HIV. Thirty percent have been beaten by their husbands or regular partners. It is clear we have much work to do here. The situation is complicated by the fact that there is only one doctor in this county – Nicholas, who manages our medical services division. The war disrupted everyone’s lives, making it difficult for people to obtain an education.

On our way through town, Val calls our attention to the police station. A police officer in a camouflage uniform is beating a man who is lying face down before him with a long, thin stick. We stop the vehicle and stare, our minds trying to comprehend what we are seeing. The officer’s stick breaks on the man’s back. He picks up another stick and resumes the beating. “We better move on,” Val says. With the press of a foot on the gas pedal, we do so.

That afternoon, I realize how wonderfully perfect the weather is. It is warm, not humid and there is no want for a breeze. A substantial flock of white-and-black crows is eating the hot red chili peppers off a bush and the small brown eagles are swooping in for a meal of termites. The mango trees are emitting a subtle perfume. At dusk, Kara and I stroll down the main drag of Tambura when the air is rosy pink from dust. The smoke from the evening’s cooking fires gives the air an unusually romantic feel. A small and rather smoky fire is serving as a bug repellant in the middle of a circle of long-horned cows. A few people are drinking beer and dancing at the only “bar” in town – a small brick structure with a few outdoor plastic tables. We are discussing heavy matters: How do we both live our dreams for this career and make a path toward love, family and roots? Damned if we know. Guess we can only pick one and hope that other falls in place.