Welcome to the clinic

Believe it or not, I used to work in a clinic. In a way it feels like another lifetime, but as soon as we got clsoe to the clinic and I could hear a little child crying and wailing, it all came back to me.

We walked in the door and followed the pitiful cries to the treatment room where Daouda was draining a huge abcess on a little boy’s neck. I walked in with a huge smile on my face and started teasing Daouda in Wolof that I was sick, my head hurt, my arm hurt, I needed medicine…

He looked up and grinned back once he saw that it was us. Still, cleaning and bandaing, he greeted us, asked about our families, about Roxaya (Jana, my former partner in crime), about France…

After finishing with the little boy – still screaming and crying as his mom tied him onto to her back to walk home – Daouda washed his hands and then shook Cheikh’s hand then mine. I could not stop smiling.

Daouda, the clinic nurse and a wonderful teacher

Just about everything I learned how to do, I learned from Daouda – even running an IV in a hut. One of the first articles I had published was about Daouda.

Treatment room

It’s been almost six years and he is still working in the clinic in his home village, even though he could move elsewhere and have a better paying job. He is the only full-time trained medical personnel and works with a part-time nurse from a nearby town and has trained a man from Sindou (Mbaye Signy) to do many procedures as well.

Truly, I cannot say enough nice things about Daouda and his heart.

Sign on the treatment room door
Medical tools
Cheikh talking medicine with the new nurse
They now have running water!
Poster promoting the female condom. They recently did free HIV testing for the village through a government program. Not a single positive result!
Medical records book for 2009
Aida worked with us at the clinic... and is expecting a baby any day now!
Malaria prevention poster
Daouda in one of the patient rooms