This week we helped Obliterate Measles! or whatever crap campaign slogan the Kenyan government has attached to me walking 15kms a day in the rain and mud. The campaign started on Saturday morning and will continue until Wednesday. Thursday for me cause I'm so hard core. You wouldn't believe how many little Kenyan mouths I have stuck my fingers in. Not just for amusement, but to administer Vitamin A from a oil tablet.
Just a little preliminary info. Most children get measles. And most children can fight it off with their own natural immunity. However, here in Kenyan in the rural areas where undernourishment is an obvious problem. Imagine a six year old kid who is the physical size of a three year old. For those kids measles can be pretty deadly. There have been a few outbreaks so the Kenyan government is doing its duty by waging all out war on measles. This week I physically restrained kids on the ground, fell in the mud, explored/got lost in a bamboo forest, was attacked by safari ants, and touched so many dirty little hands and mouths. I loved every minute of it.
Set the scene.
Me (Volunteer) and Julie (Nurse [who I will force to be my new best friend]). One of 5 other similar teams in my area. We were assigned the Gituamba sub location area which is the largest and most densely populated.
Walk up towards the Nursery School.
All the laughing and yelling from the children gets suddenly quiet. They have heard about us and our injections.
We walk in and greet the kids.
Julie does a speech about how medicine is good and that we need them to be brave. And promises them a sweet after the injection. The sweet is just Vitamin A.
While she is doing that I start to reconstitute the vaccines and fill the .5ml syringes.
Then we spot a kid that looks like he/she won't cry. This is crucial because as soon as one kid starts crying the rest start crying. But if the first kid doesn't cry then the rest of the kids will try to be as brave as that first kid. We had one room of 44 kids, and not one of them cried (I'm not including the babies because as we all know you can't reason with a baby).
Then Julie lines them up and starts injecting them in the right arm.
After the kids receive their injections they come to me and get their "sweet" and I mark their left pinky finger with an iodine pen so that they won't get re-vaccinated on accident.
We always save the fighters for last. This involves usually dragging a kid from the corner of the room by picking them up, sitting them down and holding down their arms and legs while they scream bloody murder in our ear and cry. Then we cut open the Vitamin A tablet and squeeze the contents into their mouths hoping that they won't bite us.
We say thank you and leave to go to the next school.
The only way to get the word out about something like this is to physically tell people in person and then if that doesn't work to bring it to them.
Julie and I have vaccinated over 1000 kids and walked probably just as many kilometers in the sun, mud and rain.
Just a little preliminary info. Most children get measles. And most children can fight it off with their own natural immunity. However, here in Kenyan in the rural areas where undernourishment is an obvious problem. Imagine a six year old kid who is the physical size of a three year old. For those kids measles can be pretty deadly. There have been a few outbreaks so the Kenyan government is doing its duty by waging all out war on measles. This week I physically restrained kids on the ground, fell in the mud, explored/got lost in a bamboo forest, was attacked by safari ants, and touched so many dirty little hands and mouths. I loved every minute of it.
Set the scene.
Me (Volunteer) and Julie (Nurse [who I will force to be my new best friend]). One of 5 other similar teams in my area. We were assigned the Gituamba sub location area which is the largest and most densely populated.
Walk up towards the Nursery School.
All the laughing and yelling from the children gets suddenly quiet. They have heard about us and our injections.
We walk in and greet the kids.
Julie does a speech about how medicine is good and that we need them to be brave. And promises them a sweet after the injection. The sweet is just Vitamin A.
While she is doing that I start to reconstitute the vaccines and fill the .5ml syringes.
Then we spot a kid that looks like he/she won't cry. This is crucial because as soon as one kid starts crying the rest start crying. But if the first kid doesn't cry then the rest of the kids will try to be as brave as that first kid. We had one room of 44 kids, and not one of them cried (I'm not including the babies because as we all know you can't reason with a baby).
Then Julie lines them up and starts injecting them in the right arm.
After the kids receive their injections they come to me and get their "sweet" and I mark their left pinky finger with an iodine pen so that they won't get re-vaccinated on accident.
We always save the fighters for last. This involves usually dragging a kid from the corner of the room by picking them up, sitting them down and holding down their arms and legs while they scream bloody murder in our ear and cry. Then we cut open the Vitamin A tablet and squeeze the contents into their mouths hoping that they won't bite us.
We say thank you and leave to go to the next school.
Julie and I have vaccinated over 1000 kids and walked probably just as many kilometers in the sun, mud and rain.
Unsuspecting kids found on the road. "Hey kid! Where is your mom? Go get her."
Just one of the many beautiful roads we walked through to cover ground with the vaccine.
This was today. Even though the campaign is over we still went out because we had extra vaccines and we missed a few pockets in the area.
Those syringes are the used ones.
This one is for Phillip Panici and his closet Facebook habit.
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