“A Picture is Worth a 1000 Words”- I’ll say!
I hopped down from my rooftop perch aboard a decked out safari Land Cruiser, slung my bag of medical supplies over my shoulder and approached the “Health Centre Archer’s Post”. I was in a small town in the northern region of Kenya. Accompanying me, I had a Samburu Junior Elder, Alex, several family members (among them mydad, a retired surgeon and a niece in her premed studies) and our safari guides.
Just a week earlier I’d emailed our safari company to ask if they knew of a medical clinic we could visit. I’d wanted to help out in Africa ever since my last visit to Kenya 25 years before and since becoming an OB-GYN. To date, being consumed by family and a private practice in downtown Manhattan, the opportunity had yet to present itself. I figured this was worth a try. Little did I know that such a simple request would result in such an incredible, poignant and unforgettable experience. I met Sister Mathilde.
Avoiding some recently landed vomit we walked up the cement stairs and waited on the porch while Alex went inside to see if we could come in. I heard and saw the most recent arrival to the clinic; a child of about six cradled in her mom’s lap crying. They sat on a metal chair in a small, spartan, “waiting room” with cement floors.
Within just a couple minutes a woman in her 60s with a ready smile dressed in a simple, white smock came to the door. Alex said, “This is Sister Mathilde. She takes care of all of us.” I put my hand out to say hello, she grasped both of mine, looked me directly in the eye, gave me a big toothy smile and said hello. I quickly explained I was a doctor in the States and just wanted to drop off some supplies, but didn’t want to interrupt her in anyway. “Should I just give you this bag for later?” She put her hand on my shoulder in a mini embrace and guided me past the crying patient into a second, slightly larger room, but this one had an exam table, a desk and a sink (yes! running water!).
Sister Mathilde (aka Mother Mathilde) is a nun from Italy who has dedicated 40 years to providing medical care to the northern region of Kenya. Amidst the Samburu people she spends her days caring for the men, woman, and children, many of whom walk for miles to see her. The medical clinic she runs is the only one of its kind in a 100-mile radius.
Mathilde is faced daily with the main illnesses that plague Kenya: malaria, HIV, Tb, diarrhea, conjunctivitis (the Samburu live in small dung huts with internal fires, which cause this condition) and the complications of childbirth such as postpartum hemorrhage. As Christy and Dallas made clear in their beautiful film, “No Woman, No Cry,” postpartum hemorrhage is the number one reason worldwide for the death of a mother in childbirth.
Mathilde explained that she could do some very simple lab tests to diagnose and treat malaria and HIV. Once a week she drove to neighboring villages in a mobile clinic of sorts caring for children and providing vaccines. I asked if she provided condoms to woman (and men) as prevention for HIV. She shook her head no, lifted the chain around her neck on which dangled a cross, flashed me a huge grin and said with a shrug “You know, the Church.”
Leaning against the wooden desk, I dropped my bag of supplies on top and opened it up. Our focus of conversation then turned to childbirth. I felt such an immediate connection with Mathilde and the conversation flowed with ease. We entered into a lively exchange, sharing some recent birth experiences.
Just days before my trip I had delivered six babies, the last resulting in one of the more severe postpartum hemorrhages of my career (one of those cases as an OB-GYN you will never forget). In return, Mathilde told me a story of a woman who delivered six sets of twins. Mathilde delivered all 12 babies! I stood in awe of Sister Mathilde. She faces the same daily challenges that I do with woman in childbirth. “Such bravery,” I thought to myself. “She manages it all with so little, while I am surrounded by a formidable medical institution as my safety net.”
From my bag, I removed rubber gloves, lidocaine (an anesthetic), syringes, suture and silver nitrate (used to stop minor bleeding). Finally, I pulled out 10 bottles of Cytototec (Misoprostol). One of Cytotec’s uses is to stop post partum hemorrhage. It is simple, effective and easy to use. Best of all, it costs one cent per tablet. A provider can administer it without an injection or an IV. Those 10 bottles could potentially help assist, perhaps even save, approximately 250 women. Mathilde had never heard of it! It took me about two minutes to describe the drug and how it is used. She was amazed!
It was time to say our farewells. Mathilde had to tend to the sick child in the waiting room. Mathilde walked us out to the porch to say our goodbyes. We shook hands and embraced. She said, “Come back anytime and we will deliver babies together”. To which I responded, “I would love to!” And, with my pockets full of Cytotec, I will do just that!
by Dr. Heidi Snyder Flagg
