It is October 2017, in Merti, Kenya, a town in the middle of a desert-like landscape where the temperatures average up to 100 degrees under a blistering and relentless sun. Dee Belliere, the founder of MEAK, has gathered a scout, a male nurse and a couple of other volunteers to search for more patients that might need eye care, those that might have been missed at the first round up.

This is happening while at Merti’s hospital the medical team is screening patients and operating on the ones that need surgery. During the week 2652 patients will be screened, 201 cataract operations and 578 teeth extractions will take place. An outstanding success! I am so honored that through my fundraising campaign I was able to participate and help MEAK make such a difference in so many lives.

I am one of the volunteers for that afternoon expedition and we all climb into the truck that will take us North from the town, deeper into the desert. Merti is located in the eastern part of the Isiolo district in Northern Kenya.

During the drive I stand in the truck, and lean out of the window to better take in the azure sky dotted with small white clouds, and the flat sandy barren landscape that unfolds around us. There is very little to look at. There are no exotic leafy tree, nor the ubiquitous acacia tree, no bush or plant and no distant mountain to admire. In the very far distance and only seen with binoculars trees with weaver nests hanging on their branches, like fluffy decorations are possible points of interest.

The emptiness is deceptive however; it is mirage-like. When we stop for a photography moment the emptiness slowly becomes alive.  A tiny spot in the distance is actually moving.  I wait, and as time unfolds and my eyes adjust, the image expands. The dot metamorphoses itself into a human figure . I discern one donkey, then two, then three! I am intensely aware of time, space, and movement. I smile.

I find myself strangely happy! This landscape devoid of seductive luxuriousness feels so freeing. I feel at peace. Maybe it is in this bareness that I can truly be in my own skin, no longer compulsively distracted; Nothing to cling to, to romanticize, or to ruminate about.

I remember ten years ago the first time I felt like that. My then lover and I were driving north to go to Marsabit. We drove in silence, his attention solely focused on the treacherous road and mine on the increasing desert like landscape. We were in synch, I remember feeling. A Kenyan safari guide, farmer and conservationist who thrives on harsh conditions, he could feel I liked the bareness, the starkness and harshness of the land with the occasional herdsman and camels appearing along the road. I have no idea why it felt right perhaps because both of us had so much to let go of: He, a deceased wife, and I, a failed marriage and loss of family life. That stark landscape suited our broken hearts. I have since gravitated towards the North of Kenya during my yearly visits where conditions are harsh and the land can be unforgiving yet so deeply moving.

We did meet a little boy who has one malformed foot and Dee immediately gets on her phone and makes arrangements for him to be seen in Nairobi. She will have to find the money to pay for this.

During this time in Merti I am mostly a witness. I observe the MEAK medical team screening, giving care, doing surgeries and MEAK leadership making plans for the next eye missions. I offer my help where needed. Accompanying us are a photographer, Tom Munro and a video maker in charge of documenting the mission.

We all sleep in the same make shift camp, in the middle of the town and eat at the same table in the mess. The mission is going well, no unexpected complication has cropped up. However something is making me uncomfortable. At each meal the medical team, all black Kenyans, sit together at one end of the table and the rest of us, all white women and men from England or the US sit at the other end. Granted, many (the team and us) are on our cell phones, the team prefers to speak Swahili, and this is not a social occasion, but still I feel uncomfortable with this racial, cultural, and hierarchical divide and distance. I express my discomfort but lethargy prevails on both sides until the video artist starts to interview each member of the medical team and their stories become heard. That is the beginning of a slight change, a relaxation of that distance.

The real shift happens when a snake appears while we are all hanging in the yard. It slithers quietly towards one of the huts where a tent had been erected. I notice it and ring the alarm. Mayhem ensues. Everyone is searching for the snake, first in the hut and tent then in the adjacent huts and tents! I ask: Do snakes go up walls? Can it have really traveled to another hut?

Nobody knows but every one is acting as if there is nothing stopping this snake. The driver refuses to sleep in the doomed hut and decides to sleep in the Land Rover. Some of the female nurses decide to sleep in the bus parked in the yard. All of us are talking to each other, laughing and forgetting our differences, united in our fear of the snake!

By the last day we are sharing stories about dating in different cultures and communities. We have not become best friends but we feel closer, we shared something. We are more ready to sit next to each other and inquire about each other’s lives.

I also watch the comings and goings of the people who live in Merti. They belong to the Borana tribe. I learn that they have more in common with people in Ethiopia then other Kenyan tribes. 99% of the Borana tribe lives in Ethiopia! It sure brings home the craziness of the original partitioning of the region by the Western powers. The people from Merti feel a bit forgotten by the government in Nairobi. Very little government medical funding reaches them and with the endless nurses strike in the country, there is almost no activity in the hospital. They are extremely grateful for MEAK’s medical help.

I discover a peaceful community. It wasn’t always so I am told. Three years ago you could regularly hear gunshots. Today the sounds I hear – crying children, the occasional motorcycle or car passing by, the yellow weavers chirping away, the sounds of goats and obviously the call for prayers, as it is a Muslim town – suggests that times are better. However, the relentless heat and drought are a big strain; during three days of our time there the charity organization Action against Hunger was distributing food to mothers and children. Life is precarious here.

On our last day the community and its dignitaries express their gratitude to all of the team and the elder women of the town sing and dance for us. We all get scarves, tunics and wraps!

Thank you all of you who have helped!

The next day we fold camp and wait for the plane from Tropic Air  to take us further north in the Ndotos mountains where we will hike for the next 7 days. It took us a while to  find the airstrip! Another adventure! Check out my next post for more images of the hike .

Mike Belliere, co-founder of MEAK recounts how MEAK changed Agnes’ life.

Agnes’ story

Here’s an interesting case study that makes one realize just what a fairly small accident can do to the life of a person in Kenya.

 At just 28 years old, Agnes was about to be condemned to a life of disability and ousted from her community. She had fallen on to her left arm more than six weeks before the MEAK team met her.  As a result of the fall she had sustained a complex fracture of her elbow, the dislocated bones had already started healing in the wrong position, leaving her with severe pain and no function.

As the wife of a Masaai warrior, Agnes is expected to build and maintain the mud hut in which the family live.  On a day to day basis she will milk the cows, fetch the water, collect firewood, prepare food, wash clothes, look after the children and much more.  With her left arm now of no use, she was unable to serve her husband and family and with no means to undergo an operation it was likely that Agnes would be cast out of her community.

The surgeons at Nanyuki District Hospital had heard of Agnes’ plight and arranged for her to travel down from her rural homeland to meet the UK team.  With such a severe injury (that was at least six weeks old) the team were unsure of the best way to help her.  UK Consultant Orthopaedic Surgeon and Upper Limb Specialist Archie Hawken and local surgeon Dr Mathenge had long discussions weighing up the treatment options for Agnes and after much deliberation they decided to operate.

During a four hour procedure Agnes’s elbow was re-broken and re-aligned in the correct position.  The bones were then fixed in place with plates and screws.  Amazingly by the end of her operation the surgeons were able to flex and extend her arm as normal.Agnes still has a fight ahead of her, with intensive physiotherapy and rehabilitation required to help the elbow return to full function.  However, the team anticipates that with such a successful operative result she should regain near normal use of her left arm.  Most importantly this will mean that she is able to return to being a valued and active member of her community.

Mike

Back in 2011 MEAK Orthopedic team identified the need  to improve the ability of medical practitioners to recognize the signs of deterioration  in acutely ill patients in hospitals.  A new initiative/ course was put together called GRASPIT ( Global Recognition of Acutely Sick patient and Initial Treatment) and taught at several hospitals in Mombasa, Nairobi, and Nanyuki.

The recent report by Dr. Kerri Jones from the South Devon Healthcare NHS Foundation Trust on the success of the latest GRASPIT Course at Nanyuki hospital confirms the importance and effectiveness of the initiative.

“We are just at the end of a really successful week in Nanyuki with the Emergency Department team, paramedics, GRASPIT and Community work teams.  It’s been wonderful seeing the paramedics training Police, boda boda drivers and nonclinical hospital staff in first aid!  No one thought it would happen but it’s been brilliant!  The new ED is open and our ED nurses and doctors have been demonstrating new ways of working and teaching scenarios.  Also we have established a Patient Safety Programme here – this work is really major now in all countries but is as yet relatively unknown in developing world countries despite a big WHO push.  We were also scoping paediatric training needs on the wards for the GRASPIT Paeds and maternity extension courses.  It’s been great and we all feel that we are getting much more effective each time we come out.  We had trainers up from Kenyatta to observe and take part in our work and they will go off and deliver GRASPIT now elsewhere!

I will be back in Nanyuki in November (going on possibly to Kitale) and also in late Jan/Feb – cant wait!”

I am very enthusiastic about this initiative as it complements MEAK’s medical mission work. The missions save lives in the present  and the medical training and education save future lives and effect deep change. It obviously improves the level of care but also offers significant benefits to the practitioners professional lives. It is a very empowering initiative!

One day Layla, a little girl in northern Kenya, will wonder how she got her name. Her mother can tell her that back in November 2012, a woman from very far away gave it to her while on a medical mission.

Beverly Orthwein, a board member of Medical and Educational Aid to Kenya (MEAK), brought Layla’s mother a pair of crutches donated by the local hospital in Greenwich, Conn., Beverly’s hometown. Layla’s mother had lost her leg and was getting around with the help of an old pipe topped with rags for padding.

As she tried out her new crutches, Layla’s grateful mother asked Beverly to name the baby. Beverly, who has three sons, chose the name reserved for the daughter she never had.

When people hear you’ve been to Africa, they want to know what animals you’ve seen, but for me this particular adventure is also about bearing witness to the kindness of strangers like Beverly and the volunteers who bring medical aid to the people like Layla’s mother. MEAK’s activities span all of Kenya, but this particular region, known as Samburuland, borders Ethiopia and Sudan and is largely ignored by the government and other non-governmental organizations.

Beverly is returning home after the mission, but Dee Belliere, who with her husband Mike, founded MEAK, remains behind with seven of us—Gerry Boyle, Mike Fels, Pascal Luse from the U.K., and Isabel Wilcox, Alexandria Skouras, Celeste Rault, and myself from the U.S. We arrive at the end of this medical mission to begin a fundraising trek we hope will benefit this mission as well as MEAK’s future endeavors.

The 70 mile journey will take us from the eye mission campsite outside the town of South Horr, through the Seren Valley and the Ndoto Mountains to end at the Milgis where the Parsaloi and Seiya Luggas come together.

Of course the animals and birds–the mysterious tracks testifying to the teaming life of this beautiful terrain–inspire the humbling awareness that out here, we are just more animals in the mix. For the next six days, we’ll make our own tracks south through the steep and rocky Ndikir Laurie pass and through dry riverbeds called luggas.

When they’re not filled with water, the luggas appear to be a sort of superhighway for the local herds and herders. Based on the number of animal prints visible in the soft sand, it also seems to be a fast lane for porcupines, hyenas, leopards, tiny deer called dik dik—and every sort of critter that cavorts or crawls.

Our guides, Helen Douglas-Dufresne and her partner, Peter Ilsley, are native-born Kenyans who have been taking groups through this part of the world for 25 years. Emma Hedges, owner of the Desert Rose Lodge, also accompanies us. Together the three of them know every bird, plant, animal track and burrow on the ground and every constellation in the sky, though Pete acknowledges that their Samburu team has a special expertise that comes only from a lifetime spent here.

On our first night at a campsite near South Horr, as the eye mission there draws to a close, dozens of Samburu elders and warriors come together to express their thanks through song and dance. The songs, passed down for generations, seem timeless and free of outside influence, and it is deeply moving to witness a performance so few outsiders have seen.

I know their gratitude is heartfelt and can’t help feeling it myself. We have watched the bandages come off the patients as they smile with delight at their first glimpse of loved ones. They look around in wonder at the world, seeing it clearly for perhaps the first time in their lives.

Despite heavy rains and tribal tensions between the Samburu and Turkana, in four days a medical team of three nurses, one anesthetist and one surgeon have restored sight to 214 people suffering from cataracts and other eye diseases.

The women can return to creating their intricate beadwork, and the men and children can go back to taking care of their livestock. Most of all, they don’t have to rely on a relative or anyone else to guide them.

In the eighteen years since the Bellieres started MEAK, more than seven thousand people—including many children suffering from congenital cataracts and other eye diseases—have been treated. All this has been done with virtually 100% of the contributions. MEAK has no paid employees or administrative overhead, and Dee and Mike donate their personal expenses, as well as their time and expertise.

As usual at the end of a mission, Dee sorts out plane rides to Nairobi for still more patients with conditions requiring treatment at a hospital. Meanwhile Mike is at home in Surrey, UK, planning the heart mission he’ll oversee in a few weeks.

Once we start our trek, we will be off the grid—no cellphone, Wi-fi, Internet. We will be “on safari,” but there are no jeeps, game preserves or posh lodges.

This is an area so seldom visited by tourists that some children have never seen a white person, which is why we can’t take it personally when one look at us makes them burst into tears.

Besides, others are delighted to see us. With our hiking boots and safari hats, we create an exotic and amusing diversion for the youngsters charged with watching the family herd of goats, sheep and cattle.

As they smile and greet us with a bemused “Jambo!” Pete confirms my theory: if you dropped us in the middle of the bush and an eight-year-old Samburu child in an even more remote location, the kid would be home before dark while we would be a few links down from our accustomed spot on the food chain.

The Samburu have an understanding of and relationship to nature I could not have imagined or even thought possible. I look at the side of a mountain and see the beautiful striated outcrop of rocks, the varying hues of green vegetation. The Samburu look at the same mountain and spot a tree useful for making a toothbrush, a plant that’s good for soothing a nettle or bug bite. They know every track and how fresh the animal dung is—and whether or not a prospective campsite is safe.

On my first trip here two years ago, I watched in amazed confusion as Lemongas, one of Helen’s trusted elders, had a “conversation” with a honeyguide. The small gray bird lingered long enough to convince me that, yes, he was listening to Lemongas’s whistles. When the bird seemed to fly off in a huff, Helen explained that Lemongas told the bird he didn’t have time to get to the hive the bird had found.

On this trip, however, the honeyguide gets his way. Lemongas gets another visit from a feathered friend, disappears with him into the bush, and emerges 20 minutes later with his share of the dripping honeycomb.

Although the terrain varies a lot over the course of the week—from flat, sandy luggas to steep mountain passes–there’s a kind of rhythm to each day. It begins about 5:30 in the morning, when one of the Samburu team awakens us with his singing and a “good morning.” He pours water in the little canvas washbasin perched outside each of our tents, and we have time to splash water on our faces and come together for delicious Kenyan coffee and biscuits before we hit the trail. We’ll have a huge breakfast about two hours into our hike, consisting of fantastic muesli, homemade bread, and eggs with bright yellow yokes that tell you how fresh they are.

When we arrive at a new campsite at the end of a day’s hike, we have lunch and grab a mat from one of several dozen camels carrying them and the rest of our gear. By early afternoon, it’s hot and most of us are tired. We park ourselves under a tree for a “kip” as Helen and Pete’s team set up the tents, build a fire, dig the loos and create beautiful showers with makeshift “curtains” from brush they’ve collected.

As the sun goes down, we take turns at the showers and, one by one, arrive at the campfire for tea, snacks and cocktails before dinner. This is my favorite time of day. We recall the day’s adventures and tell stories as we watch the sky, undiluted by ambient light, reveal the planets and stars in all their varied sizes, brightnesses and colors.

You can’t help but be awestruck, sitting in the midst of all this natural beauty. However, the subject matter around the campfire covers a wide variety of “philosophical” issues, including how to maximize the staying power of the bucket of water you get to shower under every night—and whether it’s advisable to walk to the loo if you have to go in the middle of the night.

One morning, just before dawn, Dee announces she hears hyenas—reason #182 not to go to the loo in the dark, I tell myself. Besides, it’s much easier to water the land behind the tents.

We never, however, resolve flashlight controversy.

“Do you turn it off or leave it on?” somebody wants to know.

“Turn it OFF! It attracts bugs!” Mike answers.

“Yeah, but then, well, you’re out there alone, in the dark in…a vulnerable position,” I point out.

Any and all topics one doesn’t talk about in polite company move to the top of the list—and all them reduce us to peels of laughter and a level of maturity that would embarrass a four-year-old.

Clearly we are the most wonderfully good-natured mzungu ever to walk through these parts. As far as I’m concerned, that theory gets confirmed the night it starts to rain and we run around laughing in the mud as we struggle to pull our tent flaps closed.

On the trail, if we stop laughing and talking long enough, we can hear the Samburu team singing to pass the time as they guide the camels. One sunny and hot day we stop to rest in the shade and join in the singing. Before you know it, we are dancing, too. In that moment we all get the rhythm of the song, and even the camels seem to get the beat.

Everyday I continue to enjoy the camaraderie but cherish as well my growing ability to read the surroundings and see how they change based on where we are and what is happening overhead. The rain has left a treasure trove of fragrant sage, blooming cadia, yellow cactus blossoms. From atop the acacia trees, the weavers, hornbills, starlings and shrikes return our gaze.  Some of us, myself included, have learned the hard way to duck well beneath the acacias’ savage thorns.

I am also learning to pay attention to the lay of the ground—not just where to walk but what animals have come before us and to admire the work of nature’s architects, including the termites who create giant nests that look like pueblos.

And who knew dung could be so exciting! Less than 50 yards from one of our camps we see fresh elephant spore. Helen can hardly contain her excitement. It’s the first time in decades the elephants have felt safe enough to come to this part of Samburuland. The Milgis Trust, created to preserve the wildlife and fight poaching, seems to be having an impact.

We promise to stay quiet and try as well to tread as silently as Lemongas, who takes the lead. Walking in silence connects us more to what surrounds us and rewards us with a view of seven or eight elephants on the mountainside across from ours.

From our vantage point, we can also see grey sheets of rain, miles away in the mountains, and when we arrive at our next campsite on the Lomolok lugga, the team know this one may not be dry for long.

Then it comes. A rush of water, the runoff from the mountain rains begins to fill the lugga. Sometimes they can fill so quickly that the force of the water can be deadly. This one, however, is a nice peaceful stream, a welcome sight for the animals, four-legged and otherwise.

As the lugga fills, it strikes me as an apt metaphor:  For centuries outsiders have traveled here from far away and wreaked havoc. But maybe one day the little girl named Layla will be able to say that MEAK and its supporters poured a trickle of hope into this place far off the beaten path.

Dear Friends:

As some of you know, on November 7th, I will be embarking on a 5 day trek in Northern Kenya, raising much needed funds for MEAK’s (Medical and Educational Aid to Kenya) medical missions. MEAK organizes and funds medical and surgical missions in the fields of ophthalmology, orthopedics and pediatric cardiac surgery. A dollar goes a long way with MEAK and 98% of all donations go directly to providing free medical care to the needy. They have carried out over 70 medical missions, providing over 7,000 surgical procedures and hope to do many more in the future. However, it is getting ever more difficult to raise the funds. Therefore, I am posting this notice to ask you to consider giving a donation to help support MEAK’s work in Kenya and in spirit to accompany me on my journey.

My journey begins in Nairobi where I will fly to Waso Ronga, which is on the southern slope of Mount Nyiru in the North of Kenya , just south of Lake Turkana. There I and seven other trekkers will observe an eye mission performed by MEAK’s medical team.  Under Helen Douglas-Dufresne’s lead we will then walk for 5 days through elephant and zebra country meeting both the Samburu and Rendille people and giving aid to those in need. Our trek ends in Ngurnit with a flight back to Nairobi.  We try to avoid the blistering heat so we wake at 5:30 AM and start our walk at 6 AM.  We walk 7 hours a day with an hour break for breakfast covering on average 18 miles at least a day. That will be a total of 90 miles.

If you are interested, you can give one of two ways. If you want a tax deduction write a check to March to The Top and remember to write on the check “FOR MEAK”.  The organization March to The Top, which is a 501©3, has included MEAK on their project platform.  If you are giving anything less than $100 and don’t require a tax deduction then go to www.justgiving.com/Meak and make your donation online. It is quick and easy.

I thank you for your support. I can assure you that your money is going for a worthy cause and will help change people’s lives. I have made a $10,000 donation to MEAK this year and look forward to raising half more at least – $5000- on this walk.

Send checks to March to The Top: 22631 Pacific Coast Highway, Suite 990, Malibu, CA, 90265

Very truly yours,

Isabel Stainow Wilcox

Nargis Kasmani moves mountains: she saves and changes lives in Kenya. No challenge seems ever too big for her since she decided to make a difference in her community. Several years ago, traumatic events in her life led her to reexamine her life goals and she closed down her business and joined Lions International where she has devoted her time and effort at improving the lives of Kenyans.

A petite, rather quiet woman, Nargis will rarely volunteer to speak about her or advertise her accomplishments and yet there are many.

In addition to her work at Lions, Nargis runs an orphanage where many children are HIV positive or have lost parents to AIDS. This has led her in 2007/2008 to want to explore ways to improve the odds of these HIV positive babies of becoming healthy and free of the virus. Research and consultations with HIV specialists indicated that the babies should not be breastfed and that a nutritional substitute needed to be provided. Discouraging the women from breastfeeding presented a lot of problems and finding an appropriate and effective formula took time and research. Nargis teamed up with a couple of nutritionists, a health food company,  Azuri, and researched the use of amaranth in India. They found some shortcomings, mainly that the approach was not holistic. After much experimentation, they came up with a mixture that not only contained amaranth but also other fruits and vegetables that were dried and ground up into a powder.

In the following video Nargis describes the pilot program that was put together and its success.

Each time I join one of MEAK medical missions, I get to witness Nargis’ special magic.  Whether it is on an eye mission (Lions International provides the medical team that she oversees) or a heart mission (she helps with finding funds and sponsors) Nargis is there, working on the front line and behind the scene at once. In addition to her responsibilities at Lions she continuously comes to the rescue. Whenever we encounter children who have special urgent medical needs beyond the ones we can deliver on the spot, it is Nargis who facilitates things in Nairobi. Dee Belliere from MEAK initiates the process, arranges for the transport and Nargis lines up the doctors, finds housing for the patient and parent, and clothes if necessary and reaches out to Lions for funding. Through her work at Lions she has developed a broad network of local contacts in the medical field, in the business community, and in the government that she can reach out to if need be. Nargis and Dee work wonderfully together. Dee is ready to venture out far into the bush to reach nomadic communities, provide funding, and part of the logistics and Nargis comes along with the medical team.

Nargis’ relentless perseverance, and deep love of children are making a difference in the lives of Kenyans and others in Africa because this pilot program, which she spearheaded, is being replicated in other parts of Africa.

I got a good measure of her character when I went with her and a few others on a seven days walk in the Ndoto mountains in Northern Kenya, walking seven hours a day. Despite the difficulties she had with her back due to a gang attack a few years ago, which led her to have a broken back,  diabetes, and a hilly terrain, Nargis had decided to complete this walk and she did. No hanging out late around the campfire though, she was in bed early every night! No mountain is too great to climb, nor challenge too big to take on for Nargis. She is now on to her next venture with Lions: Sight for Kids. A medical team goes out to schools through out the country, screening the children for eye problems, and doing preventive work.

If you are not totally impressed, here is the clincher. She is a fabulous cook! After a days work on one of these medical missions in the bush, she will go into the “kitchen” if you can call it that , take over and cook a delicious meal with chapattis. That is how she relaxes. Bravo Nargis! You are a star in my book!

One of the great privileges of going to Africa is the opportunity of meeting some extraordinary local people who work very hard to make a difference and improve the lives of many. They refuse to accept the status quo and try to effect change. They often work tirelessly in the background, make things happen and they have very little time to promote themselves or their work to a greater audience.

Tanuja Walli from Mombasa is one of them. I met her during my last visit to Mombasa last February. I quickly realized that this very attractive unassuming woman was the local backbone of MEAK‘s pediatric heart mission in Mombasa.  Tanuja Walli left behind a career in fashion and with some concerned friends formed the Paediatric Support Group in 1998 at the Aga Khan hospital in Mombasa. Their mission was to help poor children suffering from congenital heart disease find proper and effective medical care. It became clear after talking to her that despite the very substantial contribution MEAK is making, there is still a huge need for more funding and local support.  I  thought then that I might be able to help by getting the word out to a greater audience. We sat down one sunny  afternoon and she told me how she came to be so involved in helping children with heart disease and she described her work.

Tanuja Walli, founder of the Paediatric Support Group in Mombassa,  was sharing her frustration with me :  Nine children from the Coast area of Kenya died in the last couple of months while they were awaiting a slot to get heart surgery in Nairobi.

Why does that happen?

• First there are only two hospitals in Kenya – Mater Hospital and Kenyatta National Hospital – that give special discounted rates for the underprivileged on pediatric surgeries.
• Not enough pediatric surgeons.
• Already a long waiting lists from all the children that come from other parts of Kenya.
• Not enough beds.
• Not enough pediatric surgeons.
• Many technical problems occur such as the catheterization lab breaking down. During the time it takes to repair, the condition of the children waiting for an urgent operation deteriorates to a point of no return.
• Not enough funding; many of the patients are too short of funds to be able to contribute towards the surgery.

” We need  more help from private hospitals like the Aga Kahn University Hospital which has the appropriate capabilities ” says Tanuja Walli.  In the meantime MEAK ( see previous post) – the UK charity that just completed a heart mission in February and is preparing another one for June- is the only charity helping out in the field in Kenya.  Without question the government needs to do more too.

One a very good note, one child was being flown to Leipzig, Germany, for heart surgery under the auspices of the Chain of Hope. The hard work never stops and Tanuja is continually trying to find treatment for these children.