Kibera Visits With VOSH

Yesterday (Tuesday) was the first of three days of free eye clinics at the Olympic Primary School in the Kibera slums of Nairobi. We began work at 8am as the first trickle of patients came through the gate, continuing almost ceaselessly until 2pm. Hundreds of people (mostly residents of Kibera) lined up, registered, and were seen by one of our ten optometrists. The vast majority received glasses, eye drops, or other medications free of charge. The small children also received candy or crayons. Although I did have some reservations about the relatively short work day, I must say that I was ultimately very impressed by the doctors’ dedication to improving the lives of their patients and by the number of patients who were ultimately seen. The work unquestionably makes a world of difference. The number of people who emerged from the dispensary with enormous grins or equally enthusiastic expressions of gratitude is remarkable. My work as a translator has been very gratifying, particularly in cases where the patient has some symptom or concern that might not be immediately visible under the quick exams our doctors perform. My father has been quite content as one of the “crowd control” volunteers, especially appreciative of the opportunity to interact with people as he leads them from one room to another.

I must admit that I questioned the necessity of breaking for lunch during such a short work session, especially when hundreds of patients – many of whom may have been going without lunch themselves – were still queuing just outside. Fortunately, this problem was somewhat mitigated by the fact that our oversized safari-company issue lunches were comprised of a great number of individual items, including (but not limited to) a piece of chicken, nuts, an apple, a banana, two sandwiches, nuts, cake, and an egg. Because the allotment was so excessive, there were easily enough leftovers to give one item to each client still waiting outside. I was impressed by the readiness of the doctors and volunteers to offer up the better part of their meals to the hungry crowd outside. Many even went a little hungry to do so. It was clear that the Americans had indeed been moved by the plight of the Kibera dwellers, and I was happy to see that many of our clients ended up with a free small lunch to match their new glasses.

A few noteworthy cases have come across my path in the past two days. The most touching to me was that of a little boy whose vision is so bad that he would be considered legally blind at home. The doctors found him a tiny pair of enormously powerful glasses that roughly matched his needs. His face lit up like a Christmas tree when he put them on, and he was the eager subject of numerous photographs for the next few minutes as everyone shared in his glee. There was also a 92 year-old man who received glasses for the first time in his life and wouldn’t stop thanking and blessing every one of the volunteers. And the doctors’ presence proved quite timely for a mechanical worker who had a small piece of rusty metal embedded in his eye the night before, and for a tiny young girl who was struck in the eye by a projectile stone on the playground right outside our offices. In both cases our group was able to prevent lengthy and painful (and potentially blinding) injuries, and resolved the problems right then and there. I was also thrilled to see my usual Nairobi taxi driver come in the door. I was even more thrilled when he walked out without a prescription, meaning that his vision has been reliable and safe all along. He did however receive a free pair of sunglasses for long days in the sun.

As a translator, I have come to generally be tied to one small classroom and the three doctors who work within. This has often brought me the unique pleasure of helping patients who don’t know English and learning about optometry in the process. But it has also presented me with some very difficult situations. The joy of helping to restore someone’s vision has been matched by the occasional burden of delivering bad news. My Swahili was strained to the limit in trying to find the kindest words to tell a man that his detached retina will never heal, and that he will gradually lose all sight in one eye. I’ve also had to explain that while cataracts are easily and inexpensively cured in the states, we don’t have the equipment in our clinic to solve them, and that they will be prohibitively expensive here in Kenya. “A cure exists but you can’t have it” is a hard pill to swallow. A little lying is always involved (there isn’t really any reason to tell them that the surgery is possible in the states), but my task to translate the doctors’ words, not to modify them to suit my own sensibilities. I was also nearly brought to tears by the reaction of one 8 year old boy when I explained that his left eye is slowly degenerating, and that glasses will not help.

It has been a difficult two days, but fulfilling ones. Although the group itself is comprised of many wealthy individuals, and the contrast between our own situation and that of our clients is at times a little jarring, I am still in full support of the work that VOSH is doing. To hear many of the volunteers speak is refreshing, as several of them have come to a point where they no longer travel except for on missions such as these. They lament the unwillingness of many of their peers to sacrifice their own time or money to charitable causes. An expensive dinner or fancy hotel is undoubtedly a luxury most Kenyans have never known. However, I have come to realize that this does not change the fact that the work the group does is tremendously beneficial, or that many other doctors in the same position do not undertake it. If everyone took the time to include a little volunteering into their vacations and relaxation, the world would be a better place. Help comes in many forms.

Tomorrow is our last day of the eye clinics, and on Saturday dad and I (and Blair, I think) return to Nakuru for a few days. More about these things as they develop.

Keep in touch,
Chris