Again today I went with Abba Negash to visit the sisters at the Mother Teresa compound. We were given a tour that lasted about an hour. First was the men’s compound, the psychiatric patients sitting cross-legged in the middle of a roofed basketball court; waiting for their daily medication. Room after room we went with different classes or ailments; one room for HIV patients, one for TB, Terminal ill, old people, retarded people, a room full of patients with skin wounds, and one for orphan boys.
Another room sister explains is for men with liver cancers. She shakes the hand of a very skinny, aging man and in Amharic says, “Duhna nuh?” (You are fine?) It is clear that he is not yet he manages a wiry smile and simple says, “Duhna” (Fine) and kisses her hand to his forehead in respect.
She pulls down his white blanket to reveal his bulging bloated stomach. She says in English, “This is what happens they come to us when it is too late and the illness has already consumed them. Their bellies swell up like this. He will not leave this room until he is ready to be buried.”
She leaves nothing for the imagination as we tour the rest of the compound. The next portion of the tour leads us to the women’s compound. It is much like that of the men’s with extra rooms for mother’s with no husbands, and there are much more children running around.
Sister explains how they have just succeeded in persuading an un-married pregnant woman out of having an abortion. “We will keep the baby if she dopes not want it after it is born. Sometimes the mother once seeing the baby for the first time will take it, other times we will if she will not.” She explains.
The psychiatric patients in the woman’s compound are separated from the rest of the compound. I ask the sister why this is so? “ The women with psychiatric problems are much worse in behavior than the males I’m afraid to say. They are wild.”
They look wild some drooling, with snot yet to fall from their noses, some screaming and chasing an invisible intruder, others staring off into space until they are disturbed mumbling and chanting.
We visit everyone in the compound. I am not afraid, only saddened. The ill are everywhere. The forgotten, the abandoned, but not deserted.
Shortly after leaving, Abba Negash asks me, “Are you alright?”
“Yes.” I say and there is a silence of understanding in his eyes.
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