Bush Orientation Part 3: Services in Sangapi

 Nearing the end of our time in Sangapi, we plan to use our last two days to continue to learn and experience as much as possible! Each Monday, individuals from the surrounding communities are able to receive free medicine from the health clinic. The catch is that they must spend the morning working to make sure that the area stays neat and tidy -- and only after lunch can they receive the medicine. 

While everyone is busy working in the morning, we ask the health workers for a tour of their facilities. They show us some of the medicine and tools that they have, but also explain that their ability to provide care for more complex illnesses or injuries is limited. After the tour, I (Nellicia) am interested in seeing the health clinic in action, so I return after lunch while Brandon stays with a napping Nova. A large group of people is waiting in the grass, listening to one of the health workers. He is giving them a stern lecture about how medicine isn't the only solution -- prevention is a better method. "You can spend 10 kina on a bag of rice, so I know that you can spend 2 kina on a bar of soap. Use the soap! Wash! Clean yourself! If you are always dirty you will be sick. Do you sleep with your pigs or dogs? Is your toilet house on the hill above your cooking house? These things are dirty, and you will get sick. You must learn these things first to prevent sickness. Until you learn them, you will always be sick and always need medicine." 

After listening to the 'lesson' for awhile, I head to the porch where people are being called to share what is wrong and to receive their medicine. Many of the sick are tested for malaria -- even though Sangapi is not a malaria zone because of the high elevation, most people frequently travel down to the rivers and valleys, and can be infected there. Some come to receive treatment for tuberculosis, a disease which no longer exists in Canada but continues to be one of the most serious health concerns in PNG. A few people report aches, pains, or strains and are prescribed enough Acetaminophen to last for a week; others come with pregnancy complications that the health workers can do nothing about, other than to encourage them to find some money so they can go to a larger hospital. For some, such as an elderly man with bone cancer, there is no treatment available in the country, so he is simply told to return to his village. 

The difference that the health clinic is making for many people is phenomenal, but still I am left with a twisted feeling in my gut. There are so many people who can't receive the healthcare that they need because it doesn't exist within the country, or because they don't have money, or because they are afraid to go to a clinic because of a stigma or curse, or for a host of other reasons. At the end of the day, the people accept it. It is the only way they know. Most mothers have lost at least half of their children. Cripples are a common sight, and gaping, infected wounds with flies eating the flesh go untreated, usually starting as a small scrape. These are heartbreaking realities, but in the midst of them I must continue to remind myself to see the successes of those trying to help these people; the lives that are saved.  

Later in the afternoon, as the rain is putting an end to the "traditional" afternoon volleyball game, a group of people arrive with a teenage boy on a stretcher. Dusk is approaching, but the health workers greet the arrivals and get to work. Since this was our day of medical learning anyways, we decide to go to the clinic to see what is happening. Talking to the boy's father, we learn that his son fell from a tree while hunting a tree kangaroo and broke his leg. They created a stretcher out of bush materials and carried him to Sangapi, because it was the nearest clinic. When we ask how long it took to get here, we are reminded of the reality of living in the bush once again: "We left on Friday morning and walked all day every day to get here." It is Monday evening. After the boy is transferred from the stretcher to a bed and given some medication to control his pain, we talk to the health workers. They inform us that the boy broke his femur and will need a surgery that they cannot provide; the only thing they are able to do is control his pain. He will need a medivac flight to get to a proper hospital -- the health worker will try to call MAF in the morning. 

Tuesday morning, we ask how the boy is doing and if a flight will be coming to pick him up. The health worker replies that he is not sure, because the family didn't bring money to pay for hospital fees -- they must first return to their village to find some money. Leaving the injured teenager at the clinic, they depart in the morning on the 3-day journey back to their village. Yet again, my heart aches at the reality of this situation and how common I know it to be. 

We spend the rest of the morning at the local primary school, since we heard that a teacher (finally) arrived! I was really hoping to see the school in action, and assumed this would be possible since the school term officially started the week before we arrived. However, as all things take time in PNG, it also takes time for teachers to arrive at school and begin teaching. We meet the teacher and learn that this week will be enrolment week; he is hoping that the rest of the teachers will arrive by the next week. The teacher shows us the curriculum he uses and gives a tour of the classrooms. For this area, tuition for the school year is 20 kina (about $8 CAD), but even still some cannot afford it. 

As a teacher myself, I am interested in what it is like to be a teacher in PNG. I ask a few questions about his schooling, philosophy, and job, and learn a some interesting facts: 1. In PNG, you acquire a teaching licence at a college, not a university, which is seen as a lesser level of education than a business degree, for example. 2. This particular teacher has been teaching for 3 years, but has not received any payment for his work yet. The government is supposed to "backpay" any amounts not given on time, but he does not know when he will begin to receive pay. 3. Since there are so many different local languages, education is standardized into English. Students must speak English at all times, and are punished if they speak their own language. Often, teachers are not fluent in English themselves. 

Thanking the teacher for his insights, we head back to our house for lunch and nap time. Since our plane is supposed to arrive first thing tomorrow morning, we also get a head start on packing up and relax for our last evening in Sangapi. 

On our final morning in Sangapi, we eat breakfast, do a quick clean of the house, and move our things outside. The skies tell us that it is not a guarantee that the plane will be able to make it, but we want to be prepared! We head out to find someone who has contact with MAF to ask what time the plane is planning to arrive. Over the course of the morning, clouds come and go, rain comes and goes, and our expectations go up and down. "The plane will be here in 15 minutes! It just left and is on it's way!" Half an hour later, we discover it still hasn't left because of bad weather. After several hours of "Yes, it's coming!" "No... the weather is not very good." "The plane hasn't been able to leave yet..." "It should be here in half an hour!" and not seeing a plane, we decide that the plane most likely won't be able to come today after all. 

At about 2:00, after keeping Nova awake all morning from her nap so that she could sleep on the plane, we let Nova get the sleep she so desperately needs by this point in the day, and create a mental plan of what we will have for our unexpected extra dinner in Sangapi. Just as Nova starts snoring, someone comes running and says, "The plane is almost here! We need to move your things to the airstrip now!" After confirming that it really is the truth this time, we go into turbo-mode: (sorry about the 15 minute nap, Nova), carry all of the things to the airstrip, and walk up to the airstrip just as the plane is landing. Soon after, we are sitting in the plane with the clouds rolling in once again. As the pilot turns the plane on, the rain starts pouring, and we take off just in time to make it through a hole in the clouds and back to Mount Hagen. This was a real experience of what it means to depend on a MAF airplane (and consequently, the weather)!