When I was last in Mozambique, I didn’t spend much time in the capital, Maputo. Day by day, I’m growing more comfortable with the city, venturing out a bit further on my jogs, and today running errands for the first time in the heart of “downtown”. I took a chopela to get there, which improves my understanding of streets and landmarks more than a taxi. There are many sites to see when walking and driving around this city – today I saw a woman changing her infant’s diaper on the same table from which she was selling produce on the side of the street. Appetizing.
Yesterday, I walked over to the Central Hospital to see what their pharmacy was like. Walking in the front door and through a very short lobby with no secretary, I suddenly found myself standing in front of a room with people quickly coming and going. As the door swung open, I could see tables and people wearing caps over their hair (an OR?). A man walked through the door, the back of his scrubs wet in spots (sweat?) and I suddenly felt I was seeing something I shouldn’t be seeing. I turned around and asked someone (a nurse? Lots of uncertainties in these brief minutes) to point me in the direction of the pharmacy, which was back out the door, across the parking lot, and through another entrance. This is not a small building.
I crossed the parking lot and entered through the door that supposedly led to the pharmacy. Someone directed me up a ramp (paint peeling, ceiling leaking a mysterious liquid onto the floor), and I proceeded across an open air hallway of sorts that joined sections of the hospital together. Down in a courtyard, I could see rusty units (Air conditioners? Generators?) attached to the outside of the ground floor level walls, noisily grinding away. I made it to a lobby where 4 other people sat waiting to speak to a man who sat in a tiny box of a room behind a small window. The pharmacy. Through the window I could see maybe 50 total boxes of medication, some of which was labeled. Basic stuff – Ibuprofen, etc. Maybe antibiotics. Hopefully antibiotics…
With that, I had seen what I came to see and proceeded on my city tour, thanking my lucky stars that I can afford a private hospital should my health be compromised in some way while I’m here. I’ve seen rural, one room hospitals before, but this was different, somehow scarier. Maybe I was expecting it to be better equipped because it’s in a city, and I’m sure that behind some of the closed doors I passed, there are physicians and nurses with essential equipment who save lives every day. This was just one of the many moments when traveling has made me feel so lucky for the safety nets that are accessible to me.
Mahoxahomo 