Band-aids

Do you remember the 'tattoo' band-aids that were so cool 15 years ago? I begged my mom to buy me some, then squirrled them away, rarely using one. They were too cool, I didn't want to waste them on mosquito bite scabs. Maybe I was waiting for a more bad-ass scrape to match the band-aids, but it didn't come (I was never really the sort of child that got myself into those situations). In the following years, I'd find a few randomly stashed in a linen closet or bathroom drawer, but I haven't seen them in years. Haven't really thought of them either.

This week I'm tagging along on performance assessments at rural clinics. By rural, I mean take a land cruiser and travel for 2 hours on random dirt roads. 'Roads' that tip your car enough that you push against the far wall and squeeze your eyes, hoping you don't just tip over. 'Roads' that will be washed out when the rains come, unusable and inaccessible mud swamps for months. 'Roads' that crisscross through tan, dried grasses, barely distinguishable. Not really roads, just you, your driver, and the rather vast bush.

But I digress. As we sat down in an office at the first clinic of the day, I glanced absentmindedly at posters on the wall. Health messages generated by the Ministry of Health, USAID, UNICEF, WHO, and so many other organizations, logos discretely displayed across the bottom of the paper. The posters were surrounded by bright tropical frogs and ferocious tigers - with a shock I realized they were tattoo band-aids. And they were everywhere - I counted 20+ posters held up by the band-aids. My first thought, I confess, was remorse that the band-aids weren't being used for something more fitting of their status. But I came around.

Like Mali, it's difficult to stick things to the walls here. Even the nice painted cement of clinics seems to reject adhesive, years of dust that's been blown in seaping through the walls and overpowering weak tape. In a place lacking the wonder that is duct tape, you do what you can. So when some American group gives you a bumper-crop of what is essentially strong tape with strange pictures and you've been trying to keep the HIV prevention promotion on the wall, it seems like a match made in heaven. That's the way it works, sometimes. You give something with a specific thought of the need and the use, and then people get it and use it for something entirely different. I decided not to trip myself for an excuse to ask for one of the band-aids. I'm regretting that decision now.

Fun things: How to Write About Africa
I wish my blog could be this cool

Peace & Love
Elyse