The World Of Tzu Chi(Vol.116)

TZU CHI 116 41 consultation room equipped with a computer and stocked with reference books that come in handy when in doubt. The consultation process is hardly complicated: we provide a diagnosis and prescription to the patient, who would then collect his or her medication from the dispensary. In Mozambique, however, medical consultations were conducted from door to door on muddy terrain under the scorching sun – a stark contrast to the amenities I am accustomed to back in the UK. I was not only taken out of my comfort zone, but also overwhelmed by my own feelings of trepidation and apprehension when ideals that used to exist only in the imagination are replaced with harsh reality. Children are likely to suffer from a distended abdomen for two reasons: the bloating might either be attributed to malnutrition, which causes the swelling of the stomach due to protein deficiency, or parasitic infection in the gut. I was able to detect swollen intestines in a few of the children by gently pressing their bellies. A cursory examination led me to suspect that most of the children were plagued by intestinal parasites. I had a supply of the antidote, but I was unsure of whether to prescribe it to the children, because relying on medication fails to solve the root cause of this malady – poor sanitation. The medication could only provide a temporary cure as the infection is bound to recur. I eventually decided to dispense the medication, albeit rather hesitantly. At the same time, I was compelled to ponder: How should we help the villagers improve hygiene conditions to reduce the risk of recurrent infections? I was told that such circumstances were the norm in Mozambique; the living conditions in remote, inaccessible areas are even more deplorable. Many communities are in dire need of help, but where and how should we begin reaching out to them? I felt powerless before the litany of diseases afflicting the locals, as I had neither antibiotics nor medication within reach. All I could do was advise the parents to take their children to the nearest medical centre for treatment – a seemingly straightforward errand, yet one that the villagers often struggle with. Between a rock and a hard place Mozambique’s healthcare system is severely flawed with a staggering 1:33,000 doctor-patient ratio, compounded by limited accessibility to medical services. Over half of all Mozambicans have to travel at least an hour by foot to arrive at the nearest medical centre or tribal clinic. By comparison, the doctor-patient ratio in Scotland, where I currently live, is 1:1,300. Medical practices are strategically situated in every community and are conveniently accessible within a 10- to 15-minute walk. Mozambique also faces a significant shortage of doctors. The present pool of approximately 4,500 doctors are unevenly distributed across the country, with 70 percent stationed in Maputo, the capital city. On the other hand, Sofala, a province with a population of 9 million, is served by only 180 doctors working in the country’s second largest hospital, Beira Central Hospital. The country is so acutely lacking in doctors that the tribal clinics in rural villages are staffed by “medical technicians” instead of practising doctors. The role of the “medical technician” was created by the government out of the need to stem the country’s shortage of doctors and to cope with the country’s extensive healthcare demands. These medical technicians are divided into two categories: internal medicine and surgery. After undergoing three years of training, the technicians specializing in surgery are largely employed