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Introduction
On Friday 18th March 2005, we were greeted outside Livingstone hospital by Fr. John, chaplain of hospitals and prisons in Livingstone. His role is to visit the patients on a day-to-day basis, support them, pray with them and help them through their time of need. He kindly offered to give us a guided tour of the grounds but first he gave us some background information on the hospital itself.
Background Information
It was built in the 1950s and can cater for approximately 250 patients However, at the time of our visit only 60% of the hospital beds were in use. Meanwhile many sick people remain at home, where they are forced to endure the sweltering heat and go without medical attention for several days. Reasons for this are varied but they can often be as simple as a lack of money to pay the taxi fare to the hospital.
Maternity Ward
To begin with, we visited the maternity ward. We were directed to one mother who had given birth to a girl that very morning. As we approached her bed, I was surprised to discover that black babies have what can only be described as white skin for the first few weeks of their lives.
The baby looked perfectly healthy, and yet I wondered what the future held in store for her.
If her mother was HIV positive, perhaps she already had the virus. Even for one so young, growing up in Zambia means tragedy is never far away.
Ward 9
The next ward we visited was the female medical ward. Fr. John explained to us that these patients suffered from life-threatening conditions, such as tuberculosis and malaria. 4 out of 5 had AIDS, making their chances of recovery extremely remote. As we approached the entrance, the atmosphere among us was rather more subdued. From the uplifting sense of life associated with the maternity ward, we got the impression this room was to tell a different story. Behind Fr. John, I was first in. The room was dark and with the sun beating down outside it was very hot. An eerie hush descended as we filed in. I became anxious that our presence was perhaps unwelcome.
As I scanned the beds I saw many were occupied by motionless bodies, often too weak to return our tentative waves. We approached some of the beds and shook hands with the patients but the language barrier made conversation difficult. Even when I could communicate with a patient I was stuck words. What can you say to someone who has experienced a realm of suffering far beyond your own understanding? To that I had no answer.
As we left the room, Fr. John told us one patient’s tragic story. A mother of two, she had recently lost one of her children. Her husband, from whom she had already contracted AIDS, divorced her and took her remaining child with him. She now lay sick in the hospital and all alone. Her state depression was so overwhelming that she was refusing to speak to anyone, even Fr. John. For her I knew there would be no recovery.
Conclusion
Before we left, we gave Fr. John £200 to put to use in the hospital. He assured us it would go a long way, but in terms of tackling the underlying causes, its long term effect will be minimal. Without proper education and a drastic change in attitudes in both the developed and undeveloped world, AIDS will continue to plague the Zambian people far into the future.
