ImmunizationsI took Nadia to get her measles vaccine this morning. When we first arrived back in Mozambique with her, I asked around about where to get her immunizations. I was referred to the public health center in downtown Chimoio. So, since then, I have been taking Nadia there every month. Some months she gets shots, other times, just weighed and measured. The Center is open from 7:00 to 12:00 every week day morning.
Mozambique offers free healthcare and childhood vaccines. My understanding of the Mozambican health system is that people get to the clinic really early in the morning and wait until the nurse calls them, for whatever ailment they have—sickness or immunizing their child. My experience at this clinic was service without having to wait very long. I learned today that that is
my service.
This morning, we went earlier than usual because I wanted to get Nadia vaccinated before her morning nap. The clinic waiting area, an outdoor area with cement benches shaded by a roof in a courtyard of a larger health center, was full of women and their babies already at 8:15. We showed up and waited in the line for weighing babies. It was about 7-8 women and babies long which was plenty of time for me to wrangle Nadia out of the baby carrier she was in, undress her completely and finagle her into the sack from which she is hung to be weighed. Just before we weighed her, she peed, soaking the sack, my pant leg and the floor beneath us. I guess I looked apologetic because the nurse said something like, “It happens” (I know it does, I just didn’t want my child to do it!). She weighed 8.8 kg (19 lbs 5¾ oz). Then we stood in line to have her length measured. I attempted to dress her while she wiggled and tried to touch all sorts of interesting things in the cramped line (people’s hair, other babies). When it was our turn, I laid Nadia down on a board that had a measuring tape stuck to it. I held her head next to the top of the board and the nurse held her feet and moved another board to the end of them. She was 70 cm = 28 in. I asked the nurse where to go to get Nadia vaccinated. She replied that I should wait on the benches because the immunizations hadn’t started yet. I found myself a spot on a bench and waited. Nadia fell asleep and they hadn’t begun vaccinating.
Waiting gave me an opportunity to observe, having already disrupted the norm by showing up to weigh and measure my child. In the months I have been taking Nadia there, I have never seen another foreign woman, as light skinned as me (there could be but never at the same time I go or could be darker skinned). Women of all economic classes were present at the clinic. Babies had all sorts of different diapers—some were disposable diapers, some had the normal terry cloth diapers and some had just a folded up capulana. Most all the babies were bundled up (except for when they were weighed) and several people asked me if Nadia’s feet were cold because she didn’t have socks or shoes on (it was in the low 70’s—cold for here). I found one woman’s question ironic because her child wore shoes and socks but had bare legs, where as Nadia was wearing long pants and was barefoot. Babies of all ages were present and surprisingly though there were numerous present who could walk or crawl, all were held by their mothers.
After sitting for a while, I decided to go home. Nadia was asleep and I could bring her back later in the morning, get some work done and avoid the long line for vaccines.
When we returned, the head nurse with whom I usually related asked me where I had gone. She said that she had looked for me. She promptly got Nadia’s vaccine and filled out the information needed for documentation. Then she gave Nadia her shot. I told her that I had gone home instead of waiting in line. Her response was that I do not have to wait in line, because I am a foreigner.
I don’t know how to take that. On one level, I am thankful that it takes less time for us to get Nadia’s vaccines and I don’t have to sit and wait. On another level, it saddens me that I get such prompt service and others have to wait. It feels like cheating. And yet, it feels like that is what is expected by the average person—foreigners, like myself, get to go to the head of the line. I don’t know if I should fight it. I do some by waiting in line to weigh and measure Nadia. I don’t completely because, frankly it works to my advantage and in my foreign mentality time is money/less time waiting around allows me to do something else. However, waiting gives me opportunity to talk with women with whom I normally wouldn’t see and ask them about their babies. Though it seems rare that women come by themselves and their babies, or perhaps they meet people they know at the clinic. So I am the odd one with no one with whom to talk.
Every time we go, the head nurse works with us. I don’t know her name and she always forgets that Nadia is a girl, but she knows me and treats me kindly, converses with me, and offers advice and direction in a confusing place. And for that I am thankful.
Monday, 26 April