The outreach team goes out twice a week to vaccinate children (and whoever else shows up!) in surrounding villages. It is still a hit-or-miss system though; last year there was a measles outbreak in our area that affected hundreds of people, despite the fact that measles vaccine is available. Keeping a “cold chain” is a persistent problem in a hot climate, and low population density makes vaccination more difficult. So, to catch the vulnerable population all together in one place, we undertook a school vaccination campaign. The planning was more difficult and more in-depth than Emily imagined it would be, from figuring out when school is actually in session to rounding up 12,000 single-shot vaccine needles.
Since Emily needed more “shooters” (people trained to administer vaccinations) than normal since there are 600-1000 kids at each school, I went along. There were three stations, and hundreds of kids lined up at each one. To the teachers’ credit, the curious and rowdy kids actually formed lines and behaved themselves! Unfortunately, despite the three years of residency training that I spent ordering vaccines for kids, I had never actually administered a shot myself. Tamarat, one of the Ethiopian “shooters,” gave me a quick demo on administering measles vaccine subcutaneously in the back of the arm and tetanus vaccine intramuscularly in the shoulder. He vigorously reassured the surrounding mob of kids that I was a doctor, and that really really I was qualified to give shots even though he had to teach me how. The kids didn’t seem to care. They lined up, advancing one by one with bold steps and shy smiles. Surprisingly few cried or even winced. Emily sat beside me filling syringes as fast as she could. I quickly developed a rhythm, and within a few hours, we had given nearly 200 vaccines at our station alone.
I was surprised at how good it felt to do a concrete and measurable task, and how happy it made me to be surrounded by beautiful healthy children all day. I shared lunch with the outreach team – a pot of injera with colorful vegetable wot placed in the middle of our circle of seven, everyone reaching and eating and laughing with the togetherness that comes from sharing food. Technically most of the team members already began their Orthodox Christian Lenten fast: no meat, no eggs, no dairy, no alcohol, no eating before noon. Sitting in the shade and sharing a huge pot of injera with them felt more like feasting than fasting though! Apparently Orthodox fasting is strict in its dietary rules but says nothing about quantity, and certainly nothing about acting solemn or holy. I also appreciated the sense of shared work. Normally, I am treated as a special guest who stands aside and organizes or just watches while the outreach team does their work. It gave me a rare sense of solidarity with Ethiopian staff to actually share their workload. It gave me a sore back and a raw “shooter” finger too, but it was worth it.
Since Emily needed more “shooters” (people trained to administer vaccinations) than normal since there are 600-1000 kids at each school, I went along. There were three stations, and hundreds of kids lined up at each one. To the teachers’ credit, the curious and rowdy kids actually formed lines and behaved themselves! Unfortunately, despite the three years of residency training that I spent ordering vaccines for kids, I had never actually administered a shot myself. Tamarat, one of the Ethiopian “shooters,” gave me a quick demo on administering measles vaccine subcutaneously in the back of the arm and tetanus vaccine intramuscularly in the shoulder. He vigorously reassured the surrounding mob of kids that I was a doctor, and that really really I was qualified to give shots even though he had to teach me how. The kids didn’t seem to care. They lined up, advancing one by one with bold steps and shy smiles. Surprisingly few cried or even winced. Emily sat beside me filling syringes as fast as she could. I quickly developed a rhythm, and within a few hours, we had given nearly 200 vaccines at our station alone.
I was surprised at how good it felt to do a concrete and measurable task, and how happy it made me to be surrounded by beautiful healthy children all day. I shared lunch with the outreach team – a pot of injera with colorful vegetable wot placed in the middle of our circle of seven, everyone reaching and eating and laughing with the togetherness that comes from sharing food. Technically most of the team members already began their Orthodox Christian Lenten fast: no meat, no eggs, no dairy, no alcohol, no eating before noon. Sitting in the shade and sharing a huge pot of injera with them felt more like feasting than fasting though! Apparently Orthodox fasting is strict in its dietary rules but says nothing about quantity, and certainly nothing about acting solemn or holy. I also appreciated the sense of shared work. Normally, I am treated as a special guest who stands aside and organizes or just watches while the outreach team does their work. It gave me a rare sense of solidarity with Ethiopian staff to actually share their workload. It gave me a sore back and a raw “shooter” finger too, but it was worth it.
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