Category Archives: Ghana

Childbirth in Africa – a Life or Death Situation

By Kimberly Ryng, Institutional Relations Intern
By Kimberly Ryng, Institutional Relations Intern

Childbirth is often referred to as bringing new life into the world. As a woman in the United States, I’ve always subscribed to the bright halo of possibility that surrounds the arrival of a new baby.

However, since beginning my internship at AmeriCares, I’ve faced the dismal reality of maternal and child health in the developing world. Elikem Tomety Archer, AmeriCares director of Middle East and Africa partnerships, shattered my comfort zone with a simple remark: [inlinetweet prefix=”” tweeter=”@AmeriCares” suffix=”~Elikem Archer”]“Childbirth in Africa is a life or death situation.”[/inlinetweet] The truth is, women and children are dying every day.

Elikem explained to me that in rural areas of Africa there are woman who “have no concept” that they need to see a doctor when going into labor. I was shocked to learn that in Liberia, 75 percent of women give birth outside of the health system, exponentially increasing the risk of complications. For example, obstetric fistula, a hole in the birth canal, is a common complication for immature or malnourished mothers who experience prolonged labor without proper medical attention.

Before my internship I had never heard the word fistula, nonetheless considered that a hole in the birthing canal could be a consequence of giving birth without a trained assistant. Lack of education, proper nutrition and medical care plague not only maternal health, but child health as well. Elikem recently returned from Ghana where she was visiting AmeriCares One Child One World™ program. One Child One World aims to upgrade the nutritional status of 30 orphan homes in Ghana.

When AmeriCares began the program in 2011, 27 percent of the children in the homes suffered from malnutrition and 50 percent of deaths under the age of five could be contributed to malnutrition. One Child One World offers nutritional training to the caregivers of the homes, in addition to medicines and nutritional supplements, to improve the health of the children under their care. Since AmeriCares began the program, more than 200 caregivers have received nutritional training.

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Doctors, health facilities, and even transportation are basic functions of health care in the United States, yet are often considered luxuries in other parts of the world. Women and children in developing countries are dying because of preventable issues such as malnutrition and obstructed labor. I only hope that with more attention to maternal and child health, and the continued good work of organizations like AmeriCares, that progress will be made and pregnancy will no longer be a matter of life or death.

On being a mother…

My career in global health parallels my journey into motherhood.  I was heavily pregnant when I started working at AmeriCares and my first son was born six days after my first day on the job. I took my first trip to the field, visiting our partner in rural Malawi, my son was only seven months old.

Because of this parallel, I often see my work in the field through the eyes of a mother. On that first trip to Malawi, I saw a little boy about 18 months old who was severely malnourished. As a result, he was about the same size as my seven-month-old son. I understood the anguish of the mother who had walked several miles to the hospital with her son in her arms seeking care – for as a mother, I’d do the same.

Last year, on a trip to Liberia, the land of my birth, my heart was pierced when I heard wailing coming from the maternity ward – a wailing that only meant one thing: a mother had lost her baby. Having gone through the prospect of losing my son a day after he was born, I walked away haunted by that piercing cry and the thought that this mother could have been me.

For you see, the difference between me having two healthy sons and that woman crying in the maternity ward most likely lies in the fact that my son had access to emergency neonatal care. In the United States, four neonates die per 1,000 live births, while in Liberia, about 11,000 babies are dying within the first month of life. Think for a moment about how many mothers cannot celebrate Mother’s Day in Liberia without a hole in their heart because of this staggering number.

The need to address neonatal mortality in Liberia and across sub-Saharan Africa has become a matter of urgency. World Bank President Jim Kim recently said, “For most poor people, a good job is the key to escaping poverty. To get those jobs, they’ll need good skills, a quality education, and years of good health as they’re growing up and when they’re adults.” Kim is right, because children all over the world are born with the same potential.

I’ll never forget little Kofi* — a boy I met two years ago at a children’s home in Tamale, Ghana. He was about four years old then. Kofi was introduced to the iPhone by a visitor to One Child One World™  — a program which aims to reduce the incidence of malnutrition in 30 homes around the country. Within minutes, Kofi was flipping through the phone, looking at pictures and was as engaged as any child of his age here in the United States with a smartphone. In that moment, the potential that lay in Kofi was clear to me and everyone present. The question that remained unanswered as we left that home was whether he will in his lifetime have the opportunity to realize it. 

Kofi’s chance to get out of poverty depends on, among other things, years of good health. A journey that begins at birth and with a mother having the access to the health services needed to take him home healthy after delivery. That this isn’t the reality for most mothers in developing countries should give us pause on this Mother’s Day.

*name changed

Why We Wear White When Babies Are Born

I remember my aunties coming home after having a baby – they always wore white beautifully designed slit and kaba – the traditional outfits in Ghana.  Then seven days after the baby is born, there’s a naming ceremony where the baby is ‘outdoored’ or formally introduced to the world and given a name.  Before that the baby is referred to as ‘it’.  Everyone is in white at this ceremony and there’s a lot of celebration – drinking, eating and dancing.  One day, I asked my grandmother why we wear white after a baby is born and why we wait seven days before giving a baby a name.  Her response was that the white symbolizes victory – victory over death.  As the laboring mother had faced death and prevailed.  And we wait seven days to give a baby a name because we wanted to make sure the baby had decided to stay among the living before we gave it a name.

As a girl, I never understood the full impact of my grandmother’s words.  It wasn’t until several years later working in global health that I came to understand the perils of childbearing in Africa – and why it is indeed true that every time a mother in Africa comes home with a new baby, she has indeed faced death and triumphed.  The WHO has named maternal deaths in Africa as “Africa’s silent epidemic” and Africa has the highest rates of maternal deaths and infant mortality globally.  The sad truth is, for every woman in Africa who dies giving birth, there are 30 more who live with debilitating diseases like fistula due to complications during the birthing process.

There are a number of factors driving this:  lack of adequately equipped health facilities, lack of trained medical birth attendants, lack of medicines like oxytocin. There are also simple solutions that have proven successful such as working with traditional birth attendants to identify risk factors, quickly referring mothers to trained birth attendants, using community health workers to follow up on pregnant mothers in rural communities, and using cost-effective and sustainable techniques like Kangaroo care to provide needed warmth to low birth weight babies.

Africa’s story often starts and ends with the challenges, but today on International Women’s Day, I want to wear a white slit and kaba and celebrate with all the brave women I meet on the continent every day:  The HIV positive mother in rural Malawi who walks over an hour to get to the hospital each week to make sure her baby is receiving the ARVs needed to ensure that the disease is not passed on, the grandmother taking care of the double-orphaned child and tending the small garden so she has enough food to feed the child, the midwife who delivers five children a day with gloves she has to reuse because she doesn’t have a choice, and the pediatrician in Kumasi, Ghana working around the clock to save neonates.  I salute all these women because it is their commitment and dedication that ensure that countless women in Africa who face death every day in childbirth can leave the hospital wearing white.  So today, I wear my white slit and kaba too.

 

 

“Who Are We To Sit Idly By?”

John F. Kennedy once said that, “in the final analysis, our most basic common link is the fact that we all inhabit this planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.”

I believe that to bring about a solution to the strife and conflict that plagues our world, we must recognize most basic of commonalities. We are all human.

What differentiates the health outcomes of a child from an impoverished family in sub-Saharan Africa and the child of a doctor or a banker here in the U.S.? The simple answer: Where and when they are born. Birth — an unforgiving lottery — is often judge, jury and executioner. Every day 21,000 children die, from starvation, from disease, from war and from abuse. Yet so many people sit idly by despite the need for help, for health, for life. We cannot change every factor in an environment, but the scope of a conflict or problem should not disarm us. We would move mountains to save our own children. Are we not torn asunder at the spectacle of their pain? Then when regarding the unforgiving lottery that is birth, why is it that so many people can label a conflict or injustice as “isolated?” Poverty, disease, war — these are not environments children choose to be born into, these are not insulated by walls chosen by the downtrodden. They are isolated in that people refuse their commonality, deny their fortune of birth and unwittingly wall the poor, the sick and the conflicted within barricades that forever grow. We are here, they are there: more importantly, we are here, not there.

It’s our duty to stand up 

AmeriCares’ founder Bob Macauley championed “The Starfish Story” – a story of a boy who believed in making a difference, one life at a time. Similarly, the scope of a problem is not a justification for inaction. We often hear that a problem is too big or too obscure for any individual or organization to make a difference. This has proven to be a dangerous and sometimes fatal misconception. One act by one person may only alter the life of one person or it may alter the lives of one hundred; regardless of magnitude, opportunity is birthed from  what was perceived to be abandoned.

Where do we fit in? We are the bearers of hope and change to those who had no reason to believe. We are AmeriCares. We are no different than other people. We are human just as they are. So, what makes us so profoundly different? The answer is nothing; we are neither superheroes, rich, nor powerful. However, we embrace the commonalities that bind us and disregard the barriers between us. We do what we do, because we know that any change for the better  is progress.  Regardless of the capacity by which we can deliver humanitarian aid to help people in need – the fact that we stand up and do what we do, as efficiently and effectively as we possibly can – is what makes the difference.

“In the final analysis, our most basic common link is the fact that we all inhabit this planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children’s future. And we are all mortal.”

-John F. Kennedy

Speech at The American University
Washington D.C., June 10, 1963