If I did go to Gulu, I'd likely be involved in an IDP project regarding drug packaging and medicine disbursal. Having taken part in a couple of urban outreaches so far, I've noticed that when drugs are given to patients there seems to be a consistent lack of clear prescription directions. What usually happens is that the medicine is placed in a small ziploc bag and a ratio is scribbled on the front, indicating the frequency and duration of time for taking the medication (for example, 1:2:2 means to take one at a time, twice daily, for two days/weeks/months). It's easy to see how such "directions" could be confused or forgotten by the time a patient leaves the site. I'd like to come up with a way to provide clearer directions for the medications, including simple details like, "take with food," or "do not mix with ___." Ostensibly, it seems like a fairly simple task, but my solution needs to be sustainable. Printing out labels for the time I'm here won't be sufficient, nor will be buying a printer that will run out of expensive ink and paper within a very short time. The solution may just require the providers to spend more time with clients, to ensure that they understand how to take their medicine, but I'm skeptical of how realistic this is in an IDP camp or village. Resources are scarce, though given some time I'm hoping to come up with an idea that works for the long haul (as always, musings and ideas are more than welcome).
Last week I went to a regional conference on reproductive health in emergency/crisis situations. It was incredibly interesting to hear so many diverging opinions about how to achieve the same goals; I appreciated the chance to meet and speak to people from the International Rescue Committee, Medecins Sans Frontieres, and countless local NGOs. Because the conference was near June 21st, I remember making an off-hand comment at lunch about how it was the day with the most hours of sunlight back home. It incited some laughter about "those crazy Americans and their counting of sunlight-hours." Clearly, I should have targeted that riveting story at a different audience, preferably one that does not live on the Equator.
I'm back at RHU for the remainder of the week, putting the finishing touches on surveys to be conducted at the health outreaches. I'll be speaking with the clients, providers, and community mobilisers for each outreach, in the hope of getting a rough idea of how RHU is progressing toward the Millennium Development Goal of reducing child mortality through these outreaches.
While all this work has kept me sufficiently busy and intellectually satisfied, I think my greatest achievement thus far has been my recent experience at Ovino, the outdoor bazaar in Kampala: I successfully bartered and bought two pashminas for 3,500 shillings, which is roughly USD $2.50 . In the process, I discovered that I am pretty much the world's worst barterer, as demonstrated by the following conversation:
merchant: "My Indian mazungu, please come here."
me: "Sebo, how much for the football jersey?"
merchant: "10,000."
me: "I'll give you 2,000."
(merchant laughs hysterically, gets his friends to join, mocking of Paula in Luganda ensues)
me: "Fine. 9,250."
(mocking continues, but this time, in reference to the triumphant ripping off of the mazungu)
me: "Sebo, how much for the football jersey?"
merchant: "10,000."
me: "I'll give you 2,000."
(merchant laughs hysterically, gets his friends to join, mocking of Paula in Luganda ensues)
me: "Fine. 9,250."
(mocking continues, but this time, in reference to the triumphant ripping off of the mazungu)
NB: I learned that a fairer price for a football jersey is somewhere around 5-6,000 Ugandan shillings.
This is a remarkably accurate representation of what happened. I think I'll get better with time. Hope all is well.
2 comments:
Yo P Money, in Ghana, I found a Kevin Garnett Mitchell and Ness Jersey in a shop. It's worth $350 and i think i bought it for about $10-15. The people there said i got ripped off, but I still have it and i just might sell it for more than $15. But anyway, haggling is fun if you have time to do it. I usually will get tired of it after the first 5 minutes.
Question: What exactly does one talk about at a regional conference on reproductive health in a crisis situation? Does that mean during war? disease? famine? Does anything change in terms of health or is it just a matter of how do you provide the same quality of health during that type of situation?
anywho. You should celebrate the 4th of July with the Ugandans!
-kunal
You would likely be constrained by the printer (as you pointed out) but: my sister spent some time with HIV educators and found that people responded to pictures over and above directions.
Also, if patients come in with family members, you could make a concerted effort to include everyone in the conversation, so as to foster a sense of responsibility among kin.
Would be curious to see what you end up doing.
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