ChildFund International Blog

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Typhoon Haiyan 6 Months Later: Christine and Kristine

By Martin Nañawa, ChildFund Philippines

In the weeks after Super Typhoon Haiyan devastated the central Philippines last Nov. 8, Martin Nañawa, a communications staff member in our Philippines office, reported on the children, youth and adults struggling in its aftermath. Six months after the storm, he reports on their recovery. This is his second dispatch; read his first here.

typhoon damage in Tacloban

Tacloban sustained some of the most serious damage wrought by Typhoon Haiyan in November 2013.

Taclobanons all knew fear on Nov. 8. That day, Christine, a teacher, survived being trapped in her two-story apartment. For several hours, she was caught with water below and water above. The storm surge flooded her home at street level, forcing her upstairs, where she endured harsh rain and strong winds after her apartment’s roof had been peeled away by the strongest winds she’d ever seen. Christine had to duck and cover in the stairwell, where she could also keep an eye on the churning tumult below.

Her fears would not end there, however. When the storm passed, all sorts of news — true and false — traveled fast among survivors. Some said the mayor was dead; others claimed rebels had descended on the city; still others said inmates were released so they wouldn’t drown in prison.

Power lines were down everywhere, so no one had any way of knowing what was true and what was not. Christine lived alone, and she feared for her safety. She first stayed with her aunt before evacuating to the neighboring island of Cebu, where the city’s urban comforts sharply contrasted with the desperation and scarcity in Tacloban.

Thirteen-year-old Kristine also feared for her life. As the floodwaters of Haiyan’s storm surge poured into her house, she and her mother, her 18-year-old brother and 14-year-old sister climbed over stacked furniture to keep from drowning. Her brother opened a panel in the ceiling, and he helped them all up. In the ceiling, they each lay prone over a wooden beam as roiling rapids filled Kristine’s living room.

After the storm, they surveyed the damage to their home. The walls still stood, but the garage had collapsed, crushing their car.

Kristine

Kristine

Kristine and her family, like Christine, heard rumors about violence and roving bands of looters. Her father is a police officer, but he was stationed three hours away, and she hadn’t heard anything from him since Leyte Island lost power. Fearing for their safety, the family crawled back into the ceiling so intruders would not find them.

In the pitch-black night, all sorts of unearthly sounds haunted them and fed their fears of danger, both real and imagined.

Loud thuds and creaking at her home’s perimeter gate pulled Kristine out of her thoughts. She held her breath as she listened again, hoping it was just her imagination. There it was again. It sounded like someone was trying to push their gate open. Kristine heard her mother calling to her brother to stay put, but it was too late — he had climbed down from the ceiling to investigate.

He soon reappeared, wearing a grin across his face. Their father was home.

assistance after Typhoon Haiyan

After the typhoon, people on Leyte Island received assistance, but much work was ahead.

Returning to school

After the storm, the Philippines’ Department of Education announced that schools would reopen Dec. 2. Christine returned from Cebu — only to find her apartment had been ransacked. Many things were stolen, and the rest were damaged by the flood. Christine also found that belongings she had stored at Sto. Nino Elementary School had been stolen, along with various other items of school property.

Christine was beside herself. She had become a public school teacher to help people be better and because she loved children, and now she’d been robbed of even belongings she’d never deemed valuable. People seemed to just take things because they could. She couldn’t believe her misfortune.

Nonetheless, she had to come to work. But how would she teach? Teachers and students had lost their books and notebooks, and many children no longer had uniforms and shoes. Everyone still bore the shock of Haiyan, and nobody was in the mood, let alone prepared, to resume school.

Kristine also returned to school Dec. 2, but her heart wasn’t in it. Few of her peers were in attendance. It seemed to be too soon for everyone, especially those coping with far worse circumstances than her family. Kristine’s classmates sat and stared, and they wept for friends they’d lost in the storm.

At the same time, hundreds of evacuees crowded into Sto. Nino School, and both Kristine and Christine found ChildFund staff members among all the new faces. They were organizing a Child-Centered Space there, a place for children to recover from all the intense emotions caused by the typhoon.

improvements in Tacloban

Slowly, conditions are improving in Tacloban. Many children have received psychosocial support.

Despite all of her trials and tribulations, Christine signed up as a volunteer. “I’m a teacher. I’ve been a teacher 27 years,” she declared. “I teach because I love children, and help is what they really need right now.” ChildFund staff members trained her and other volunteers to use curriculum developed specifically for emergencies. Instantly, Christine felt she’d made the right decision.

“I conducted CCS sessions at school through December, right until everyone took a break for the holidays. Then in January, we shifted to holding CCS on weekends, to make time for the school curriculum on weekdays,” Christine says. “It gave me so much joy seeing the children’s demeanor improve, hearing them laugh, play and sing again, witnessing children learn to be children again, despite all that’s happened.”

For her part, Kristine was happy that CCS activities filled the gap before regular classes resumed. “We couldn’t really hold class in the weeks after the typhoon,” she says. “But CCS helped us get over the intense memory of fear. When school really resumed in January, we were ready.”

ChildFund also helped Kristine and her classmates get ready to resume school by replacing lost school supplies. “It feels like such a small thing,” Kristine says, “but I was delighted to actually own something new after losing so many things to the storm.” It would be a while before simple things like pens and pencils could be purchased locally in Tacloban.

Christine

Christine

Looking back

It’s now been half a year since Haiyan tore through Tacloban and other towns. Christine remains a ChildFund volunteer, and her local knowledge is invaluable to ChildFund’s staff members.

Sometimes she brings Kristine with her to ChildFund activities. During summer break, Kristine is learning outdoors skills through scouting.

“Haiyan’s hardship almost curled me into a closed fist,” Christine says, “but ChildFund reminded me to remain an open palm, sharing my blessings with others.”

No More Yelling

Interview by Sagita Adesywi, ChildFund Indonesia

Yeyen, a 27-year-old mother of two who lives in Kapuk, West Jakarta, Indonesia, describes the effect an Early Childhood Development (ECD) center supported by ChildFund and Fronterra, a global dairy company based in New Zealand, has had on her family’s life.

“When my first son, Habibie, was only 3 years old, I forced him to read and write. I really wanted him to be ready to go to school. I wanted him to write the letters perfectly, but he wrote them like random drawings. He often cried when I asked him to write properly. It was really difficult. It frustrated me that sometimes I lost my patience and raised my voice, saying that he was a naughty boy.

Habibie

Habibie at his ECD center in Indonesia.

“It was not that I was being mean to my own child, it was just that I really wanted him to be able to read and write so he could be the smart one in school. I really wasn’t aware that what I was doing to my son is not a good age-appropriate practice. I just didn’t know any better. ’Thankfully, not so long after, when we walked by an ECD center in our neighborhood, we saw children learning and playing together. Seeing that, Habibie told me he wanted to play and learn there too. I was surprised because I didn’t even ask him to! I was so happy that I took him to Mentari ECD center right away.

“In less than a year, my son could sing and pray very well, along with the other children at the Mentari Ceria ECD center. I had taught him how to pray at home before, but somehow he didn’t do that well. It seems the ECD tutors know better approaches for young children. The tutors are so nice and patient, while I used to get easily angry with Habibie. I see how the ECD tutors communicate using a nurturing tone of voice with the children. Soon enough, I also learned for myself how to communicate better with my son.

“It has changed me and surely has changed Habibie! Habibie now also likes to teach his younger sister, Alisa, how to sing and pray,” Yeyen says. Alisa also goes to the center, and she doesn’t receive pressure to learn how to read and write early, as Habibie did.

mother and tutor

Tutor Eliana (left) and Habibie’s mother, Yeyen.

“Many parents yell when disciplining their child,” notes Eliana, a tutor at Mentari Ceria. “Yelling is not a form of discipline, but rather a punishment. We have learned so much from the training we had from ChildFund on early childhood development. Discipline is teaching through communication in a calm and gentle way. Children who are yelled at regularly will eventually learn to ignore their parents’ yelling.”

Tutors at the center have been provided with training in early childhood development, which they pass on to parents and caregivers, aiming to create a safe and caring environment with healthy interaction between adult and child.

“I don’t yell at my son anymore or at my daughter,” Yeyen says. “I pay attention to what I say and how I say it to my children. Having fun and interactive activities at the ECD center with other children and the changes in interaction at home have really helped boost my son’s self-esteem. I want my children to play and learn freely.”

Typhoon Haiyan 6 Months Later (Part 1): Return to Tacloban

By Martin Nanawa, ChildFund Philippines

In the weeks after Super Typhoon Haiyan devastated the central Philippines last Nov. 8, Martin Nañawa, a communications staff member in our Philippines office, reported on the children, youth and adults struggling in its aftermath. Six months after the storm, he reports on their recovery. Here is his first dispatch.

Tacloban looked really shiny from my airplane window. It was the glint of freshly installed corrugated metal sheet roofing — many homes and businesses whose walls still stood had recently repaired their roofs.

When ChildFund’s emergency response team first landed in Tacloban, the city was the dire place the world was hearing about in the news. After what I had seen then, progress – any kind of visible progress – was welcome news. I’d see more signs of it as I made my way through town.

philippines child chasing tire

In Tacloban, children are playing again, even though signs of the typhoon’s destruction remain.

Utilities have been restored throughout the city. I’ve heard there are occasional power outages, but supply is largely stable. This is a far cry from the city that was swallowed in darkness each night. Water supply and mobile phone coverage have also been restored.

The public transportation grid is working again. Passenger jeepneys (local, privately owned minibuses) and commuter tricycles are plying the road once more. Some are even back to reckless driving, which is another indicator of normalcy, for better or worse.

Public transportation also indicates fuel supply has also been restored. I spotted many gas stations newly repaired or nearly so. Right after Haiyan, gas stations lay partially or completely in ruins and were subsequently ransacked for their fuel supply.

Tacloban’s streets have been cleared of rubble and rubbish. In the first days after the super typhoon, cars were strewn about the roads like some toddler’s toys. Now, nearly all the wrecked vehicles are gone from the streets, and the remaining automobile husks are parked neatly in front of their owners’ lots.

Commerce in Tacloban is also struggling to recover. Many businesses have repaired and reopened. Markets, restaurants, boutiques, electronics and assorted services often sport large painted canvass streamers announcing their reopenings — no need to live off packed rations or relief goods anymore. I walked into a little corner fast-food eatery for lunch and enjoyed a good, cheap meal while watching a noontime vaudeville on TV, seated next to a few school-aged girls giggling over Facebook on their phones and tablets. It felt like Haiyan had never happened there.

The volume of lechon (roast pig) stalls open throughout the city also surprised me. Lechon isn’t cheap, and it’s usually served only at fiestas or large banquets.

School is out for the Philippines’ summer break, from late March to the first week of June. Teachers say ChildFund’s Child-Centered Space training was critical in the months of January to March, when school had to resume but children were not physically and emotionally prepared. These same teachers feel more confident that they’re in better shape to start school in June.

Still, in contrast to local businesses, school buildings have largely not been repaired, and teachers expect to run up to three shifts of students using each surviving classroom. Quonset hut-like structures built by responding agencies will help ease congestion in classrooms.

Ship on dry land, graffiti, children

The large ships that Haiyan’s storm surge carried and deposited on dry land remain in place.

Though signs of progress and recovery were apparent everywhere, so are Haiyan’s horrible scars. Though large structures-turned-evacuation centers, like the astrodome by the bay, were now empty or under repair, numerous tent cities can still be found in the city. Homes and businesses that suffered greater damage remain neglected. Many residents or shop owners just aren’t prepared to rebuild, or they’ve abandoned Tacloban for Cebu, Manila or elsewhere.

The large ships that Haiyan’s storm surge carried and deposited on dry land, right on top of a seaside community, remain in place – solemn steel monoliths to remind the city of Haiyan’s toll. The ships’ hulls are now covered in graffiti – some are messages of encouragement, but there are many expressions of grief and rage.

Tacloban is rebuilding, but it’s rebuilding over not only terrible physical and emotional scars but also pre-existing conditions. Businesses may be restarting, but lower-income households, whose earnings derive from agriculture such as copra production, have it harder. The threat of malnutrition, already observed in Leyte before Haiyan, has only further been compounded by the scarcity endured until only recently.

Having personally seen Tacloban on its knees, I’m thankful to see it struggle to its feet now. I’m thankful to be a part of this effort. I’m thankful to colleagues at ChildFund who’ve labored, wept and struggled alongside Taclobanons for six months now. Of course, I’m also thankful to donors who’ve helped us do what we do. ChildFund will continue to play a significant role in Tacloban’s recovery.

ChildFund is invested in an early recovery strategy that tackles livelihood restoration, nutrition and child protection challenges faced by post-Haiyan Tacloban and other affected areas in the central Philippines. Funding for ChildFund’s nutrition and child protection projects was made possible through grants from UNICEF.

Queen and the Pretty Tears

By Christine Ennulat, ChildFund Staff Writer

I couldn’t stop looking at her: the regal profile, the swanlike neck, the strong, elegant shoulders. She looked like a dancer. She looked like Nefertiti, out of place amid the trash heaps and makeshift shacks of the Haitian slum where we met.

It was 1983, and I was a teenager on a summer mission trip. That day, we had walked through the fringes of Cap-Haitien to attend an open-air church service. After three weeks in Haiti, I thought I’d seen serious poverty. The uphill hike through the slum showed me different.

She was a congregation member, one of several young mothers not much older than the coltish adolescent girls who chased each other, laughing and barefoot, over the dirt paths strewn with bits of plastic, metal and glinting glass. Her baby cooed in her arms, his tiny hands opening and closing like starfish. She saw me looking and raised her eyebrows, her body language asking, Want to hold him?

I accepted his warm weight, and he and I enjoyed a little conversation of nonsense and smiles until my group stood to leave and it was time for me to hand him back.

She held up her hand and looked away: No. Keep him. Take him with you.

It took me a moment to fully grasp her meaning. Three decades later, I still don’t want to.

Three decades later, I am a mother, too. And I still think about that young woman. I call her Queen.

Mother and child in Senegal

Senegal, 2013.

I also think about another girl in that mission group — let’s call her Maria — who also had my attention that day. In fact, she had everyone’s attention, because her tender soul was so moved by the poverty she saw that she cried prettily all the way down the hill.

This enraged me. I didn’t know why.

All these years later, though, I think I understand. Part of it was my wanting to feel as “deeply” as Maria clearly did. Plus, my anger wasn’t satisfying, which made me angrier.

Even more annoying was that Maria was getting all kinds of strokes for leaking all her feelings all over the place. But what good did they do? What was the point?

Not that my anger did any good, either. But it did plant a seed.

Queen has come to mind now and again over the years, especially after I had my own babies, when her image would pierce the idyllic, milky haze of (suburban, privileged) new motherhood at odd times. Eventually, I became aware that what had felt so wrong on that day was the friction between Maria’s pretty tears and that young mother’s quiet, tired dignity.

Queen deserved better.

The mothers I’ve met in my travels for ChildFund deserve better: the mother who got married at 13, got pregnant at 14, lost that baby and had another soon after. The widowed mother trying to keep her own AIDS in check at least until she can get her daughter through school. The mother who weeps over her husband’s beatings, and then over beating her little boy when she reaches her wits’ end. The young women who keep their pregnancies secret for fear that evil spirits will attack. The mothers who lose children to the evil spirits of malnutrition, infection, conflict.

The mothers who are working to heal — themselves, their children. The mothers who are reaching out for support, who are learning, who are fighting their way past their own fears to take hold of their own power and help their own children beat the odds.

“She’s so full of love!” my group leaders exclaimed about Maria. “So compassionate!”

Love. Compassion.

What I understand now is that true love means knowing, and knowing that you don’t know. And compassion? Compassion wants action. Compassion needs legs.

I’ve got to hand it to Maria, who, after all, did spend that summer sweating on that orphanage construction project, just like I did. And she probably grew up, just like I did.

Just like I hope Queen did. Like I hope her little boy did.

The Hazards of the Ebola Virus

By Meg Carter, ChildFund Sponsorship Communication Specialist

Ebola, a deadly and extremely painful virus, has broken out in western Africa. We asked Meg, who worked in Uganda during a previous outbreak, to share her impressions of Ebola and how it’s spread.

In Guinea’s Forest Region, where the world’s latest Ebola outbreak began, a bat is considered a delicacy — unless it’s your totem animal. If your family name is Guemou, Gbilimou, Gamamou, Balamou or Kolamou, you won’t eat bats, dogs or snakes.

You’ll also be at slightly less risk of contracting Ebola. Researchers believe that one in three West African bats carries Ebola antibodies. Even animals with no sign of illness can infect humans through blood or body fluids.

Family in Guinea

Families in Guinea are at risk of contracting the deadly Ebola virus, which can pass through human contact.

Every Ebola outbreak begins with a single animal-to-human transmission, then spreads from human to human through direct contact with blood, saliva, perspiration, urine, feces, organs, even semen. After an incubation period of two to 21 days, those infected pass Ebola on — often to family members and health care workers.

In Guinea, doctors initially mistook Ebola for Lassa, another viral hemorrhagic fever that accounts for about one in seven hospital admissions across Guinea, Liberia and Sierra Leone. Hospitals there often lack laboratories equipped to distinguish one virus from another.

Rats excrete the Lassa virus in their urine. It disperses during the daily sweeping of dirt floors, and then humans inhale it. Lassa, like malaria, requires vector control. Ebola’s transmission, on the other hand, plays into religion and culture; greetings, hospitality, caring for the sick, personal hygiene and funeral preparations all can cause its transmission.

I lived in Uganda in 2007 when a new strain of Ebola surfaced on its border with the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Guinea’s virus is also a new strain, very closely related to the type from the DRC. Back in 2007, an infected doctor seeking treatment in Uganda’s capital brought Ebola to Kampala. This March, an infected doctor brought Ebola to Guinea’s capital, Conakry.

In 2007, Uganda threatened to close Entebbe International Airport. Now, Senegal has closed its land border with Guinea, The Gambia cancelled flights into Conakry, and other passengers must undergo health screening at arrival and departure. Saudi Arabia has even suspended visas for the haj, meaning that Guineans and Liberians won’t be among the pilgrims to Mecca this October. Muslims save money for decades to make pilgrimages on behalf of their families. Upon return, they bless all who shake their hands.

Ebola twists, knots and adorns itself in filaments. It is one of the most lethal pathogens on earth, and the U.S. has classified it under bioterrorism. There’s no vaccine, cure or treatment. If your immune system can’t fight it off, the virus bores holes in your blood vessels. Ebola kills most of its human hosts. Since it’s rare for Guineans and Liberians to ever touch a microscope or see germs, many still attribute sudden death caused by Ebola to sorcery.

No child should have to watch her mother die alone, touched only by doctors encased in protective armor. No father should suffer the agony of having infected his child. And those who recover don’t deserve stigma. Please help us counter fear with education and hygiene interventions.

 

Escaping the Burden of Bangle Making in India

By Saroj Pattnaik, ChildFund India

Kshetrapal, 33, and his family live in the town of Firozabad in India’s Uttar Pradesh region, an area known for its home-based bangle industry. With no other source of income, the family saw no alternative but to do this difficult and often dangerous work.

“I and all my family members were spending more than 10 hours every day in joining, sorting and coloring bangles in a very distressful environment,” Kshetrapal recalls. “I never liked that work, but I had no choice at all.”

Kshetrapal packing snacks

Kshetrapal packages his homemade snacks as his children watch.

Along with his wife, his younger brother and elderly parents, Kshetrapal used to crouch over hot, smoky stoves for all those hours welding the ends of glass bangles and decorating them with glitter — until he enrolled in ChildFund India’s Sustainable Livelihood Development Program.

Started in 2012 as a pilot in Firozabad supported by ChildFund Deutschland (Germany), the program aims to empower people, especially youths engaged in bangle making, to adapt to changing circumstances and take up sustainable business ventures of their own choosing.

“The Sustainable Livelihood Development Program is a great program through which we can help the youth and women become independent and self-sufficient,” says Dr. Werner Kuepper, ChildFund Deutschland’s program director. “With the help of this initiative, the local youth can be free from the bangle work and start up something of their own that is new and has sustainability.”

The program’s organizers first examined the participants’ lives, including their education, their current livelihoods and what kind of work they wished to do. During the second phase, the participants were trained to come up with business plans, develop commercial models and test the new business models in open-market conditions. They attended classes, worked in groups and collected market information, as well as creating prototypes of their products.

“Many a time, I wanted to start some other business that would allow me to get rid of this distressful bangle making,” Kshetrapal says. “But I had no idea of how to start a new business, nor had I money for it.” But a friend of his brother mentioned the livelihood program, and Kshetrapal enrolled.

a certificate of recognition

Kshetrapal receives a certificate of recognition from Professor Meier Herald of Germany’s Bonn-Rhein-Sieg University of Applied Sciences.

During the program, the father of four was asked if he had a business in mind. “I shared my thoughts of starting a snack-making business, which I had harbored for several years but didn’t know how to start it,” he says. “During the training sessions, I was informed about the risks and techniques of running a sustainable business. Subsequently, they fine-tuned my business model, and today I am doing the business quite successfully.”

Kshetrapal’s life has been difficult. He lost his first wife to tuberculosis seven years ago, and he had to leave college to work and support his family.

“After my wife’s death, my father also fell ill because of the excessive smoke, which we had to inhale for hours while making bangles every day,” he recalls. “Since then, I was thinking of an alternate livelihood option, and ChildFund has given me that opportunity. I am so very thankful to this organization.”

Today, Kshetrapal has his own business of producing and distributing snacks, which are highly popular in India. Early this year, he and a few other students presented their business models at an event organized in Firozabad, and he received a certificate from the Bonn-Rhein-Sieg University of Applied Sciences, a German university.

“Today, I am very happy that we have shifted from bangle making to snack making — from unhealthy and painful work to relatively safer and less laborious work,” Kshetrapal says. “My younger brother is now going to college. We are able to earn more than what we used to earn in bangle making. I am very happy and want to scale up my business soon.”

Are You Celebrating One Day Without Shoes?

One Day Without Shoes

By Kate Andrews, ChildFund Staff Writer

It’s time to give your toes some air, while raising awareness for children’s health and education. Tomorrow is One Day Without Shoes, an annual event hosted by TOMS that calls attention to the plight of millions of children whose future is at risk because they walk barefoot or have only thin sandals.

Here are just some of the problems these children face:

  • Over time, in countries like Ethiopia, people can develop podoconiosis, a debilitating disease that causes painful swelling of feet and legs. According to the World Health Organization, 4 million people in 15 countries suffer from podo.
  • And in many countries, children are often required to wear shoes as part of their school uniform. Without proper shoes, they may miss school, be turned away from class or drop out altogether.
  • Cuts caused by walking on rough ground can become infected and lead to serious illnesses.

TOMS Shoes, one of ChildFund’s partners, started One Day Without Shoes in 2007 to encourage people to take off their shoes for a day and experience a bit of what is a daily challenge for millions around the world. We encourage all ChildFund supporters to give this a try — and explain to the people you meet tomorrow why you’re walking through your town, your school or your office without shoes on.

Also, we’d love to see your photos — tag @TOMS and @ChildFund on Facebook or Twitter whenever you share your One Day Without Shoes pictures, and use #withoutshoes. Hope to see your feet on Tuesday!

Let’s Give Malaria the Smackdown

bed nets save lives

Medicated bed nets save lives.

By Kate Andrews, ChildFund Staff Writer

Today is World Malaria Day, which recognizes one of the deadliest diseases in the world, particularly for children under the age of 5. According to the World Health Organization’s 2013 malaria report, approximately 627,000 people died from the vector-borne disease; 90 percent of those who died were in sub-Saharan Africa, and 77 percent were children younger than 5.

There are several things you can do to help ease the problem of malaria, which affects countries in Asia, as well as in Africa.

The greater availability of medicated bed nets and medication, along with education about preventive measures, has helped many families. Malaria mortality rates fell by 42 percent between 2000 and 2012 in all age groups and by 48 percent in children under 5. Nonetheless, many still need assistance.

Donating bed nets, whether it’s one or a dozen, makes a big difference for children in Cambodia, India, Indonesia, Kenya, Mozambique, Sri Lanka, The Gambia, Uganda, Zambia and other countries. It can be the difference between life and death.

Also, you can share this infographic on social media. It clearly states the toll malaria takes on the most vulnerable. Even when children survive malaria, they often suffer recurring bouts that interrupt school or disrupt their families’ livelihoods when their parents have to take them to a far-off clinic for treatment.

Please spread the word about malaria today!

Teedankey’s Malaria Scare

Reporting by ChildFund The Gambia

Teedankey, 18, is a sponsored child in The Gambia, living in Tanjeh on the country’s west coast. Here, she talks about her experience with malaria, as we mark World Malaria Day today.

I want to take this opportunity to share my personal experience with this killer disease called malaria. It was on July 10, 2010. My day started off really well, but later on during my lessons, I got a very menacing illness and could no longer continue with my lessons. I reported the matter to my teacher, who sent me home. On my way, I felt like l took the longest route because I felt so exhausted.

Teedankey of The Gambia

Teedankey is healthy today after a serious bout with malaria in 2010.

One of my friends had to help me reach home safely; upon my arrival at home, both my parents could not attend to me because they were working. The only option I was left was to lie down on my bed until my parents’ return from the farm.

After explaining my symptoms to my parents, they gave me traditional herbs for a few days, to no avail. My condition was deteriorating, I became weaker by each passing minute, and I had constant joint pains, loss of appetite and severe weight loss. Thanks to my neighbor’s intervention, I was taken to the village community health post, which was supported by ChildFund The Gambia.

Going to the clinic also proved to be a difficulty, as I was in no condition to walk. But our neighbor provided us with a vehicle to drive to the clinic. I was admitted and had a blood test. I can vividly remember receiving IV drips of water and medication to control my temperature.

An hour later, the nurse came with my results, saying that I was suffering from chronic malaria and that the delay in taking me to the clinic did not help. I was given drugs and more injections during my four-day stay in the clinic to help flush out the malaria parasites in my immune system.

Upon recovery, I took it upon myself to tell my fellow students about the dangers of this preventable disease and how to protect themselves from this killer disease and what a difference sleeping under a treated bed net makes.

A Timor-Leste Community Eradicating Malaria

By Silvia Ximenes and Natasha Cleary, ChildFund Timor-Leste

April 25 is World Malaria Day, a time to recognize the toll this disease takes on many people worldwide, particularly children under the age of 5.

Jose and grandson

Jose and his grandson, who now sleeps under a medicated bed net.

It’s mid-morning off tropical Timor-Leste’s coast, in the mountains of Liquica district. The wet season is coming to an end, so the trees and scrub are still green, and fruit and vegetables are abundant. But the wet season also creates an abundance of mosquitos.

Elderly patriarch Jose Dias lives in one of the only houses in his village that’s made of concrete; most are made of bamboo and palm leaves. Despite its stronger foundations, the house lacks window coverings and fly screens, like all houses here, and it is full of mosquitos. They swarm as Jose speaks about protecting his growing family from malaria.

“My family received two bed nets from ChildFund, and the volunteer also gave us information about how to use them properly and why we need to use them,” he says. “Giving information with nets is important, because some people didn’t know what they were for and used them to catch fish or protect their trees from pests.”

But there are no bed nets in Jose’s garden. While his adult children are working in the fields harvesting vegetables, Jose stays at home with his infant grandson, who sleeps under a net, protected from the mosquitos.

Community health volunteers trained through ChildFund have visited his home and hold group education sessions in his community, raising awareness of disease prevention, like how and why to use nets, and advocating the use of local health clinics.  Last year, ChildFund distributed 950 insecticide-treated nets in Liquica district.

Jakson's home

Jakson at his home, which has gaps that allow in mosquitos.

Up the hill from Jose’s house is 7-year-old Jakson’s bamboo and palm leaf house. Jakson contracted malaria a few years ago, before his family started using nets. “When I had malaria, I just stayed at home sleeping. I couldn’t go to school or play with my friends,” he says. “Jakson had a fever and headache,” explains his mother, Agostinha. “I knew that I had to quickly take him to the health post to get medication and treatment. Juleta [a volunteer] had already informed my family and the community.

“If I lost a child due to sickness, life could never be the same again,” Agostinha continues.

She has four children who are 7 and younger, and they now all sleep under bed nets provided by ChildFund. Children younger than 5 are at increased risk of rapid progression of malaria, as well as more severe mutations and a higher likelihood of death, according to the World Health Organization.

But there is hope. Through interventions like distribution of bed nets and increasing community awareness, malaria has almost been eradicated in Liquica. Last year, ChildFund distributed 950 insecticide-treated bed nets in Liquica district.

“In 2006, 220 of every 1,000 people who took a blood test had malaria,” says Pedro Paulo Gomes, director of the Liquica District Health Service. “Nowadays it is less than two. The dramatic decrease has been achieved through successful interventions like training [of health staff], bed net distribution and behavior-change information provided to the community.”

Gomes adds that the Ministry of Health has a good working relationship with ChildFund. “We work in partnership to train health staff and volunteers on community health education.”

Pedro Paulo Gomes

Pedro Paulo Gomes, director of the Liquica District Health Service.

Juleta, a community health volunteer

Juleta, a community health volunteer, with a group of local children.

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