Friday, November 25, 2011

Thanksgiving Hawassa-Style, Hippos, Asmari & Lab Struggles


November 25, 2011

Greetings from Hawassa!

Just recovered from a full day without electricity that made Elliot, more than me, very frustrated. No coffee, no eggs, and no computer after the batteries ran down. The problem has worsened considerably since we came at the beginning of October. At that point we would get spells lasting no more than a half-hour without power. We thought at first that it was the coming of the 25,000 students to the university that put too much strain on the grid, but are learning that this is a chronic problem that occurs in every dry season (winter-spring) when the water levels in the rivers behind the dams fall and the blackouts affect the whole country. The political aspect is that the Ethiopian government is building several large and extremely controversial dams now – one on the Blue Nile that is sure to infuriate Egypt which unilaterally declared decades ago that Ethiopian damming of the Blue Nile was forbidden, and a series of dams that threaten extremely isolated indigenous peoples on the Omo River – which will not supply Ethiopian needs but will provide electricity for Djibouti and Kenya. It's a pisser.

Yesterday the one-hour power failure was the only hitch in what was otherwise a lovely Thanksgiving, Hawassa-style. Our young friend and apartment neighbor, Emilia Biavaschi, from Portland, Oregon, decided we were going to celebrate this holiday about which Ethiopians know absolutely nothing. So we plotted and schemed. There are no turkeys in the horn of Africa. The closest candidate would be the Abyssinian ground hornbill that wanders around our fields (see the first posting), so we decided on chickens for the omnivores. (Emilia and Adam are vegetarians.) Hard to get whole chickens, so our friend Walelign volunteered to buy chickens at the market and slaughter them. As a young man he was the appointed butcher for his family, which is Ethiopian Orthodox requiring adherence to strict rules of slaughtering, similar to kosher and halal. Then we had to find apples for the pies – not raised in Ethiopia that we know of but we suspected somehow available in Addis – and something that resembles cornbread for the stuffing. Ultimately, I found halal chickens at the US embassy in Addis and that put the kabash on the local chicken holocaust and we located some outlandishly expensive apples from Egypt (Go, Arab Spring!) at a stall on the Addis streets. Emilia had trouble finding sweet potatoes at the market, though Wallelign and his wife Beza told us that they are available in Hawassa, so she substituted yams for my North Carolina sweet potato pudding. And having absolutely no luck locating cornbread or corn meal we shredded what friend Helen has called Hibasha bread for the stuffing. Everything except the pies and yams was loaded with garlic and the yams and potatoes were mashed with spoons (no such thing as a potato masher in Hawassa!) after I came home from work yesterday afternoon, and we were well on the way to Thanksgiving heaven when.... you guessed it, no electricity! It lasted for a whole hour while our guests politely drank wine and beer and ate those great Egyptian apples dipped in Ethiopian peanut butter. At a certain point Lemma, our volunteer economist at the University started to describe the difference between what is said over the chicken-slaughterings by the rabbi, the Orthodox priest and the imam and belted forth “There is no God but Allah!” and the lights came on and the chickens began to roast again. Go figure.

We particularly missed our beloved Leah, Mulu and Masaye on Thanksgiving day. Leah and Masaye were at Sister Susy's and Mulu was... hmmm... we're not sure where, but somewhere in the St. Paul vicinity. Mulu, phone home!

I am most thankful that El is home after a 6-day trip to Washington for the African Studies meeting. He worked like a dog there as editor of the African Studies Review and came back pretty exhausted, but satisfied because his book, Laibon, has come out. It was lonely here without him. We have always been a team and, though there are wonderful people here, as Joanie Mitchell says, “It gets so lonely, when you're walking and the streets are full of strangers.” We have no tv so there is no artificial noise in the apartment and the Ethiopian nights are dark.





Before he came back, though, to occupy myself, I went with Emilia and Adam and Walelign for a boating trip to see the hippos on lake Hawassa. They were cool and BIG and the lake was gorgeous. Walelign had spent all his life in Hawassa and had never been on a boat. That night we went to an Amhari (traditional Ethiopian music) club and were the butt of the singers who do Ethiopian version musical stand-up comedy. My children will be relieved to know that I refused to dance. 
 
El came back to Addis on Monday and I rode up to meet him and to attend a command performance orientation for Fulbrighters at the American Embassy. We were dreading it, but it was actually very informative. There was much to learn about Ethiopia and much to learn about what the American government thinks about Ethiopia and its government. The Ambassador denied that there had been an army invasion of Somalia last week, that it was just Ethiopian-backed Somali militia. And they denied that there were armed drones at Arba Minch, though they really did not deny that there were drones. We will try to find out more about both. We heard and talked a lot about the Ethiopian policy of “massivization” or “flooding” of education. There are so many young people, and they are being funneled into higher education programs that lack sufficient resources or staff, overloading the professors but, at the same time, creating the educated young people that will become the future professors. It is a bold but sometimes outrageous undertaking by one of the world's (if not the world's) poorest countries.

We attended a reception at the home of the Public Affairs Officer and his male partner and wondered about whether DOMA allowed federal benefits to his partner. But most important I got to talk to the CDC representative in Ethiopia about the problems at the Referral Hospital Lab, which are monumental. There are no bacterial, tuberculous or fungal cultures, the microscopic analyses are unreliable and we usually ignore them, and we cannot get basic chemistries, called electrolytes. I was pleasantly surprised when, at the cocktail party, the CDC man not only took my issues seriously but helped me make what seems to be a plan to try to address them.

The hospital work has been challenging. Before I left for Addis I had worked long hours preparing a 2-hour power-point lecture on hypertension for the first year medical students. I have some power-point phobia so, though I was promised there would be both computer and projector, I brought my own computer, my own projector and my own thumb drive just to make sure. And then 1) my computer wouldn't communicate with the Hospital's projector; 2) the Hospital's computer couldn't read my thumb drive and I knocked it over trying to put the drive in and 3) I couldn't use my projector because I hadn't brought its wire! So I “wung it” for 2 hours, actually enjoying the chance to be more Socratic. The interesting thing was that the small group of women medical students all sat in the front row and knew all the answers, allowing me to tease the male students for their lack of bravery.

I am participating more in the morning patient conferences, when the interns present the patients that they have admitted and that have died. I find myself caught. There are problems with patient evaluation and care. Students and interns know very little about cardiovascular disease and tend to give everybody antibiotics, specifically ceftriaxone, which is a pretty potent med. I find myself questioning management decisions, but try to do it in a way that outlines the basis for how those decisions are made. However, as was true in my own training 35 years ago and was true when I worked in Eritrea, questions about management can quickly turn into a “pillory the intern” session, that is humiliating and, in my experience those many years ago, leads to very little learning and instead to a lot of anxiety and anger. I cringe when staff do that – it was particularly bad this morning – and need to figure out how to deal with the patient care issues at the same time paying heed to the pedagogical ones. Appreciate any suggestions from my colleagues and anybody else who has an idea.

After morning patient conference went with the head of internal medicine (who found out by glancing at a memorandum on his desk in my presence that he had been transformed into the acting Medical Director of the Hospital while the official Director was out of town) to interview the chief administrator of the Hospital Lab. He is a young guy, 30 at most, who told us about lacking equipment, having old equipment without technical support or ineffective technical support, about lacking reagents, culture media and other supplies, of receiving specimens many hours after they were obtained, delivered by the patient's family, not by hospital staff. Of the frustration of requesting needed supplies from the pharmacy but never receiving them, of being expected to apply for the (newly-instituted) World Health Organization-derived laboratory accreditation and knowing that there was no way that he could fill the deficiencies in the lab's procedures because he simply didn't have the equipment. My heart went out to him and we are writing up a report to give to a representative of Johns Hopkins with an office actually in Referral to see if he can give support – technical, resources, training, whatever – to improve it so that the clinicians in the hospital can begin to rely on lab testing rather than treating each patient empirically.

I write this as much to see it on paper because it is so different from what I usually do and what I expected to do, and I find the issues more complex than I think I am prepared for. Forgive my ramblings and let us all be thankful for our families, our fragile and beautiful world, the amazing accomplishments and incredible tomfoolery of our species, and our solidarity with one another.

Love, Marty

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Exercise, Medicine, Teaching, Hyenas





Greetings from Hawassa!

Day number 2 of Marty sans Elliot in Hawassa, surviving, perhaps thriving. Elliot left yesterday early morning on a public van for Addis Ababa to fly to Washington DC for the African Studies Association meeting. He will be working with the other editors and the Board of the Association's journal, the African Studies Review. Heard from him this morning: he arrived safely but not without some issues. Apparently a psychotic man was roaming the aisles of the airplane and ranting, to the point that Elliot, who doesn't frighten easily, was frightened. BUT...  who should be on board the flight but A DELEGATION OF PSYCHIATRISTS, going to a convention! Apparently they applied valium and the therapeutic touch and all went smoothly thereafter.

Without him I am getting a whole lot of reading done. A lot of medical stuff. Finally was able to start my course on malaria from the London School of Tropical Medicine which, I must admit, is very cool. It is such a complicated disease: this little bugger of a parasite switches into at least four different forms in order to adapt to its mosquito and human hosts and has been able to resist each medicine we throw at it, change its outer cover so that creating a vaccine is extremely difficult, and infects approximately 50 million people a year, of whom about a million die. Most of them are children and most of those children are African children. A formidable enemy.

Also doing the mundane. Am doing a power point for the medical students on the evaluation and treatment of hypertension, the bread and butter of Global North medicine. Should be boring, but am doing a literature search and finding all kinds of things I hadn't known. Am supposed to fill up 2 hours (and Ethiopian education traditionally does not include time for questions from the students. :-(  ) But I think I can do it and maybe have some fun, (also not an Ethiopian educational tradition. :-(  )

And Sunday I had a lovely time presenting a power point lecture to the Hawassa Diabetes Association. Yes, it exists, started by my colleague at Referral, Dr. Tarike. It was a real treat, at least a hundred men and women, some in traditional dress, most non­English speakers, all diabetic, to whom I spoke about the role of exercise in treating diabetes. I interspersed my slides with pictures from the streets of Hawassa, proving that the little bit of obesity in town was directly correlated to transport by motorcycle or car, and that most of the walkers and bicyclers and pushcart folks were skinny as rails. Dr. Tarike translated into Amharic (and, judging by the relative lengths of some of his sentences compared to mine, did some augmenting and embellishing.) The questions were great, and I sure had a good time. 

For fun I am reading a book that several people – Sister Susy, Carolyn Oppenheim, Leah – had told me I must read, Cutting for Stone. I think because I still have an adolescent streak, I resisted it until getting here. Over 3 quarters of it takes place in Addis Ababa in the 1950's to 1970's and it truly is stunning. 
First of all Abraham Verghese is a magnificent writer. Second, it is a great story, woven with a truly multicultural cast of characters who do heroic things in difficult circumstances. Third, Addis Ababa 1960's has a lot of similarities to  Hawassa, 2011, and I can smell the smells, hear the sounds and see many of the sights that the hero does. And fourth, and most fascinating to me (Elliot, you kept telling me this) it is an ode to the practice of medicine, particularly medicine in extremely difficult, resource-poor, Ethiopian circumstances. It is that ode that I am particularly attuned to.

To digress, I was an unhappy medical student almost 40 years ago. It was a hostile, patriarchal, bourgeois profession that did not welcome a working-class socialist girl. I never felt part of the medical educational system at the time. It was closer to hazing than to glorious exploration of the science of the human body. I did well, but I never felt I fit in, and consequently never went the extra mile or claimed it as a fascinating, all-absorbing vocation. My joy was elsewhere – family and politics. 

That has changed over the years, as I have gotten into the mysteries of the science and its relationship to healing and the human life. Each year that goes by, I find myself wanting to know more – both reading the literature and exploring the intersection between that knowledge and preventing human suffering and death. It gives me excitement and joy. Hmmmm...

I have never seen that so well expressed as in Cutting for Stone. The hunger to learn, the frustration of making stupid, lazy mistakes, the inexpressible joy of making a diagnosis and knowing what to do about it.

I got so into this that for a while I was angry at myself for not having become a surgeon, as the Stones did in the book. Now THAT is an ahistorical joke! It took me a while to remember that I quit medical school after the first day of surgery because I was so disgusted by the anti-female, actually fairly anti-human atmosphere in the Duke Surgery Department. 

Well, I came to my senses re the surgical career issue. But I still appreciate the description of the passion for medicine. And then today I went to Referral and diagnosed my first case of Pott's disease, or tuberculosis of the spine presenting as paraplegia or bilateral leg paralysis and made my first diagnosis of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, both of which are possibly treatable. I was almost dancing down the hall. QED.

I am doing something else that I have always avoided, and that is teaching medicine. In retrospect I have avoided it, I think now, because I had so little respect for the medical educational establishment. Yet I have found that I really enjoy teaching in groups and one-on-one, and find, low-and-behold, that I have a lot to say and I say it in a way that surprises the medical students and interns and makes them smile, something that doesn't happen in Ethiopian medical education (an echo of my own from 40 years ago.) The girls in particular, and they are a pretty spunky lot and are about the same minority ratio as my own medical class, catch my eye and smile and answer. 

SOOO... El, I miss you, but am getting by. I am so glad you will have supper with Leah and Gavin tonight. Mulu, Masaye and Leah you are magnificent and I can't wait to see you. Arky, I would love your commentary on all this. Beloved, incomparable friends, keep Occupying and  know that we are there in spirit.

The hyenas howl every night outside our windows. Haven't heard them yet tonight. It is very odd – I find them comforting. I guess that is because they are outside. 

Goodnight and love to you,

Just Marty

Friday, November 11, 2011

Elliot's book, Laibon, is out!!!


I am very pleased to announce the publication of my book

Altamira Press
202 pages
ISBN 978-0759120686
$24.95
Elliot Fratkin is Professor of Anthropology at Smith College, Northampton MA, and is currently US a Fulbright Scholar teaching at Hawassa University in Ethiopia.
Laibon: An Anthropologist’s Journey with Samburu Diviners in Kenya by Elliot Fratkin. 

Elliot Fratkin shares the story of his early anthropological fieldwork in Kenya in the 1970s. Using his fieldnotes and letters home to bring to life the voices of those he met, Fratkin invites the reader to experience his cross-cultural friendships with the enigmatic laibon (a diviner and healer of the Samburu and Maasai peoples) Lonyoki, his family, and the people of the nomadic community of Lukumai. Fratkin participated in the daily lives of the Ariaal livestock herders and accompanied the laibon as he performed divination and healing rituals throughout Marsabit and Samburu Districts. After Fratkin reunited Lonyoki with his son and wife, Lonyoki adopted Fratkin into his family, and Fratkin continues his close friendship with Lonyoki’s son Lembalen today.

“Elliot dares to use his own research to pose the question: Is there any true objectivity in field research and anthropological inquiry? He dares to depict his own attachments and relationships to this very special community, while also staying true to his research. His insights further the reader’s understanding and appreciation of the culture and of the research process, thus expanding the boundaries of anthropology. Readers from budding anthropologists to aid workers to volunteers will identify with Elliot’s observations, experience, and deep connection to the culture he studied and the people he grew to love.—Kris Holloway, author of Monique and the Mango Rains: Two Years with a Midwife in Mali

"A vivid, engaging account of Elliot Fratkin's apprenticeship into the mysteries of divination and healing by a prominent Samburu laibon. This book succeeds on many levels - as an unparalleled exploration of the secret meanings and methods of divination by laibons; as a window into the experience of extended field research - the insights and challenges, the emotions and relationships; and as a compelling story about our shared humanity, a reminder that people everywhere experience love, loss and life in ways that will seem achingly familiar.” —Dorothy L. Hodgson, Rutgers University

“Fratkin’s book, a journal of personal as well as ethnographic exploration, is honest, funny, moving, empathetic, and respectful and, as an account of fieldwork, rings absolutely true. It is a superb introduction to Samburu, especially their prophets, and to the experience of field anthropology. It would make an engaging teaching text for engaged undergraduates and graduate preparation.”
- Richard Waller, Bucknell University

Laibon: An Anthropologist’s Journey with Samburu Diviners in Kenya by Elliot Fratkin
Paper price for your students - $24.95.
For more information about this text please visit the book's page on our website at www.altamirapress.com/ISBN/0759120684