18.10.04

The most crustaceous scalps and scabulous skins I've ever seen, that's what we saw today. We were the busiest we've ever been, and saw probably 22 families. It looked like either super-infected scabes, or impetigo. One little boy had it so bad, that infection crust--Andy says its called honey-crusted infection (that'll forever ruin toast and honey)--was webbing his little fingers together. They have to keep track of all the medecine they give out, and Alemush said she wouldn't trust the mom to give the baby five days worth of doses anyway, so Andy suggested two days of mega doses since we'll be coming back tomorrow. And to tell the mom that the best way to prevent that kind of infection is to keep her baby clean. Alemush said, "Yeah, we always tell them that."

Lots of the kids in this village had it and other scabs and infections and pustules and mollescum, but none were quite this horrible. The children here were also the most malnourished we've seen yet. It was horribly sad. Tiny stick legs with big knobby knees. Teeny little shoulders that connect to an oversized-looking head. If it is possible to not be a scriptural character and have your bowels yearn, that's what mine were doing. Protein deficiency looks just like they say it does: skinny apendages, blown-out tummies, lightened hair colour. All three of the babies we put in the hanging scale today just sat there--it was way too easy to get their measurement because they didn't fuss or kick like normal.

On the other hand, few of the kids looked really unhappy (until they got close to we freakish whiteys)--most of them were playing the game the kids play in every village; see how close you can crowd the strangers till somebody picks up a stick or string whip. Then there's a happy shriek while the kids dash away and a grown man chases them snapping at their legs. Everybody loves it, the kids and usually the grownup. (Which is why is isn't that effective. Only fences work really, and then you have to have a border patrol. The last time I tried chasing the kids away, it was waaaay too much fun and completely innefective. I got an annoyed look from the team and that was the last time I tried.)

One older woman who was there with her grandchildren, caught up Andy and I in surprisingly strong arms and held us head down to her shoulder, tugging us back in each time we attempted to surface. When we were allowed to stand again, Andy said, "That felt really good." Baileyin (who just told the whole team today that we'd been pronouncing his name wrong all along) said she was thanking us because her trachiasis surgery had made such a difference in her life. Again, I wish I had actually done something she could be thanking me for, but it did feel good.

We go back to the same village tomorrow to finish up.