The Village Clinic

The day begins before light with a few roosters crowing, a quick breakfast of cereal, fruit, and yogurt, and the packing of vehicles. By 7 AM we are on the road to run a medical clinic an hour to the north of the city. About 25 staff are involved -- long term, short term, and volunteer medical personnel who are giving their time three days this week to clinics.

Arriving at the site, we find the clinic almost set up already by those who arrived first to the community center. There are four small rooms around a square and a platform with cover where we set up the pharmacy. One room is for health lectures, a second for counseling to determine needs broader than simply physical, a third houses the doctors, and a fourth will be the afternoon dentist’s office. Registration takes place outside, and men of the village have erected a multicolored tent that gives shade to plastic chairs underneath.

Everyone has a job, even the students who are visiting. One takes blood pressure for the first time and finds she can handle it. Another counts pills in the pharmacy, a third moves people in and out of the counseling center, and the final one helps with the health lectures even though she can’t understand a word that is said. Her smile radiates her joy.

In the shade of a large tree are a cluster of heavily armed military men, borrowed by the village leader to ensure calm. The crowd of nearly 200 who pass through the gates seem far more interested in getting medical help than in any kind of incident. Most of them are young women and little children but there are elderly sprinkled among them as well. It’s only in the afternoon that their husbands come by, perhaps having worked in the morning, or maybe because it took till then to get up the courage to admit to illness.

Once registered, a patient goes to a health lecture, to the counseling center, to the doctor and then to the makeshift pharmacy to get medications. All is free, time and medications donated or purchased by the generosity of others. The order and patience of the crowd attest to their grateful thanks for the day’s opportunity to see competent doctors.

Midday we take turns in shifts riding to a home nearby where several of the staff have prepared lunch of chicken adobo, rice, mixed green beans and carrots and asparagus, pineapple and mangoes. It’s a welcome break from the heat and intensity of the clinic and a chance to mingle and chat with others who are working the clinic. I find myself with a middle aged Filipina who gives me the scoop on the family issues she learned counseling that morning. The women often have had arranged marriages at 14 or 15 by twenty may have several children. The hard work of life falls to them – house, food, children, survival.

Afternoon brings the dental clinic and more doctor visits. A slight glitch keeps the dentist from extracting as many teeth as he planned – the Novocain he brought isn’t the full strength marked on the packaging, not unheard of in this part of the world. He triages those waiting and, disappointed, has to send away the more severe cases.

As we wrap up the day in a slight drizzle, the military guys gather around to help carry boxes and equipment back to the trucks. They pull out their cell phones to take pictures of the doctors and staff. We were well protected all day by their broad smiles. The village leader is delighted and wants more clinics for his people.

Heading out, we agree to all meet back in town for a chicken dinner, but as we leave the area, one of the vehicles develops a clutch problem. Plan B emerges with chicken dinner nearby at Naty’s Chicken House for all of us while the clutch is repaired. An hour later we’re full of roasted chicken, rice, hot chilis, and kalamanci juice and the vehicle is ready to go. We head back to the city, dropping staff along the way as we go.

Home again, we unload quickly and hit the showers to wash off the dust and perspiration of the day. Tomorrow is another clinic and we’ll be up and crowing with the roosters.