"Dropping like flies"

 10/05/05

            RENK, Sudan – I never used to think much about the expression “Dropping like flies.” It was just something one said, when folks were getting sick or dropping out of an event or something like that. It was, really, just an expression.

            Now, it has a whole new meaning for me.

            For here in Southern Sudan, the people truly ARE dropping like flies. Every hour, it seems, we hear of another person who has taken ill, another who is in the hospital, another who has had to make the eight-hour arduous trip to Khartoum for special treatment.

            The disease that is felling so many people?

            Malaria.

            It’s endemic here in Southern Sudan, where people don’t have the money to buy mosquito nets, or bug repellant, or put screens on their doors or windows, where no one even thinks about, much less has access to, daily preventative medicine, where there is no electricity, so it gets dark by 7 p.m., and the only real thing to do is sit outside (in prime mosquito feeding time) to visit with each other.

            In Southern Sudan, there is nothing to prevent most folks from getting malaria, and little that can be done for anyone who has it.

            It’s amazing to witness, really. I take a daily preventative medicine, which I brought with me from the United States. I have a mosquito net, again from the United States. I paid a huge sum of money to have screens put on all my windows, and a special screen on my door (which most folks laughed at in the beginning, but now realize is so helpful to me).  I also have the medicine that is necessary if I were to get malaria.

            In other words, I’m in good shape.

            But the people I live with are not.

            Our local hospital holds about 200 patients at full capacity. Right now, there are more than 400 there, sleeping two to a bed, and sometimes on the floor. There is medicine to be had once you get malaria, but only if you have enough money. Even then, the medicine might – or might not – be strong enough to cure you.

            This particular form of malaria is quite awful. For the youngest, it easily can mean death. Even for those who have had it and survived it several times, each bout is draining. The fevers are high – 105 is not unusual. The chills are bone-shaking. The sweats, when they finally come, soak everything within minutes.

            And even once some medicine is taken – usually a glucose IV and some quinine tablets – the illness’ effects aren’t gone. Aches and pains stay for days, the headache is enough to drop people to their knees, and a general weakness slows life down for all.

            This is the season for malaria. Our rains are just ending, and there is standing water in the fields. The mosquitoes have been breeding for weeks, and right now seem everywhere. Even a quick trip outside in the evening means risking a dozen bites.

            I am lucky – not only do I have all the supplies I need both to prevent this disease and to cure it if I get it – I also will miss this terrible season. For reasons having nothing to do with malaria, I am returning to the United States for six weeks to preach and teach about Sudan. (I have to do some extra work on my work permit.) So I do not run much chance of getting malaria anytime soon. I know I’ve been bitten several times and could be carrying the disease in my liver, but I also know I have the ability to get this checked – and treated if necessary – in the United States, where I have health insurance and will not have to worry about whether I can afford treatment.

            Malaria should not have this hold over people. It is preventable, for relatively little money per person. Preventative medicine and nets could be distributed. But all of that is hard to do in a country that is only now coming out of war and entering a time of peace. We don’t have the infrastructure to move about the country easily, much less the money to buy everything we need to help stop this disease.

            The main institution that is able to work with malaria patients is not the Department of Health, which doesn’t have the money or means or people to do the job, but the Christian Church. Whenever anyone gets sick, some member of the Church visits that person, bringing nourishing food and prayers. Sometimes that is enough. But not always.

            One day, everyone will receive vaccinations to prevent malaria. One day, everyone will have mosquito nets and screens and bug spray. One day, the government will be able to control the mosquito population.

            Until then, people will continue to drop like flies.

            And some of them will not get back up.