13. Ammalife, hats and wandering nibs

13. Ammalife, hats and wandering nibs

20th October 2013

My blog style to date has been to start on a thematic journey, meander seemingly unhingedly, but then, with an attempt at an elegant literary double backflip with pike, deftly to return to base camp at the end. This time, however, I do not think I have managed it.

This fortnight’s blog turns out to be more of an A to B journey, of the sort that husbands make.

(I say this fully aware of the dangers of gender stereotyping, and I would be more than happy to accept into the category of A-to-B-journeying-husbands, anyone of whatever chromosomal make-up, as long as they exhibit the trait. The husbandly trait is this: Not only do they know the shortest way to the supermarket, avoiding traffic lights, pedestrian crossings and roundabouts, but they know it in metres, in minutes, and in points of the compass, and would disembowel themselves rather than look it up on GPS. On tougher journeys, they actually relish the challenge of getting there just as quickly, despite it being school-drop-off time in the rush hour on the South Circular, with the home team playing a morning fixture, on the day that the National Union of Lumberjacks had injudiciously planned their traditional annual parade in memory of the Great Fire of London, at the same time and place that Greenpeace were lobbying Parliament on the deforestation of the inner cities. Furthermore, if achieving this on-time arrival involved off-road segments, river crossings, the Spanish Steps, or squeezing through a little-known defect in the wire fencing around a disused aerodrome, then so much the better. If this is you, and if you have been known to cut off all communication with your spouse for a week because s/he went through an unnecessary traffic light on the way home, then you are, of whatever gender, a husband.)

One of the main reasons for this husbandly directness is that I want to leap straight in and tell you about Ammalife, (http://www.ammalife.org/), who have adopted under their wing the Berega plans for saving the lives of mothers and children in the remote area of Mnafu. (See separate post for the most recent summary). Ammalife, whose purpose is to make a difference to mothers throughout the world, is a rising star amongst such charities. Their founder trustee, Prof. Arri Coomarasamy, is one of the top researchers in International Womens’ Health, and has collaborations in many countries, including Tanzania.

(I remember him, though, when he was a doe-eyed youth. He was my houseman/junior intern many moons ago, and perhaps he is the man he is today because I did not stint in using on him the well-honed tools of the day for nurturing intellectual growth: humiliation; bombastic overbearing outbursts; and insistence on the punctilious use of outmoded and sometimes dangerous therapies. (“Coomarasamy! Why did you not lance these leeches before mixing them into the linseed-and-sparrow-liver poultice?” “I am truly sorry Sir, but it seemed as if her piles were already improving with the honey-and-hedgehog-skin gamgee.”)

Anyway, Ammalife gets things done. They make a difference, and what’s more, they put considerable effort, at no expense to the charity, in finding out what it is that does make a difference. (With their high-profile partners, they apply for grants from international organisations to run large and well-constructed studies in under-resourced settings in many Asian and African countries, their most recent one published in the Lancet). Their interventions are often simple things. In a remote part of Pakistan, for instance, they have issued pregnant women who come to antenatal clinic with a taxi voucher. When the woman goes into labour, the voucher is presented, and, when time might truly mean life or death, none of it is not lost trying to find transport; nor money for transport. The cost to Ammalife is in pennies, and the saving is in lives. It is not surprising then, that Arri Coomarasamy representing Ammalife, has been asked to lead on one of the UK’s main charity collaborations, to advise on sound intervention in maternal & child health.

There is a reason I am bigging up Ammalife, and it is this. It is much more than a shot in the arm to have had the health care aspects of the Berega /Mnafu project housed within their organisation. They are not just being nice – they like what we are doing. They think it hits the spot. What is more, I will be reporting to them twice a year, and drawing on their wisdom and, hopefully, critical friendship.

So look out on the Ammalife site for a page on our plans to make a difference in remote Tanzania. (And check out the ‘my-donate’ link which you will pointed to.)

Talking of making a difference, I have to share with you this photo:

This was knitted by the worthy women of Guildford, UK. (The hat, not the baby). When Dr. Blanché Oguti visited Berega this year, she was shocked to discover that vulnerable new-born babies cannot be adequately resuscitated if they are cold. Death and brain damage from this ironic cause in a tropical country are all too common, where newborn clothing is wet and thin. So when Blanché  returned to the UK, she talked to her mentor, Dr. Debbie Donovan. A few months later, the charity KOFIA has already knitted 1000 hats, and the picture you see is of the first ever use. The baby will keep the hat, and perhaps, one day, these Kofias might be the hall mark of a looked-after childbirth – one where the woman and her baby have been cared for in the right place at the right time, by those who know what they are doing. Those hats, back in the village, will send a deeply poignant message, from the privileged to the grateful.

I have much more to say, but will save myself until next time, when all the meetings and first phase groundwork of the plans will be complete. In particular, the charities Hands4Africa and BREAD are vital. Their frequent visits to Berega, to trouble-shoot and to develop, have had huge and progressive impact over the years: on primary schooling/education; the establishment of a nursing school; helping the hospital do its job; helping the community with transport, buildings and agronomy; and more. When we are all completely clear as to who is doing what, where, and when, we will then be ready to sign off a collaborative plan for stepping boldly into Mnafu, to begin walking with them on their journey into the twenty-first century. Each step must be solid, and each step will take us further from the numb toughness of the past. It’s really happening.

Well, I have used my time and word count, and seem to have taken you from Ammalife to BREAD, (via to KOFIA & H4A), in a fairly logical sequence. A to B, like a husband. I feel a little awkward about this, especially towards those who might have expected something a little more James-Joycey. Indeed it was in deference to such fans of the wandering nib, that my blog style to date has been to start on a thematic journey, meander seemingly unhingedly, but then, with an attempt at an elegant literary double backflip with pike, deftly to return to base camp at the end. This time, however, I do not think I have managed it.