We departed at approximately 7 this morning to a village 8km from the center of Phnom Penh city, appropriately (and literally) named the Km8 Village. Unlike the previous villages its short distance from the capital of Cambodia makes it technically inside Phnom Penh. Alas the socioeconomic and lifestyle conditions should not be mistaken for the suburban modern life one would expect from a population so near to the heart of a country. To rephrase the IMAC president's words, this subpopulation may be regarded as being more deprived. In a completely rural area, all villagers can be assumed to possess at least their own piece of land and keep their traditional jobs as farmers, small traders, etc but here the relatively wider economic gaps and competition for lands and job opportunities bring about harder lives for some.
So we brought along all of our supplies of medications and surgical equipments this morning in the cramped space of a van. The aim today was to organize the medical combo of a mobile clinic, circumcision, and health educations/games. (It is probably not worth mentioning, but the writer would like to immortalize the appreciation from the group to Ahmad and Sobri for their marked endurance towards the suffering of using a good old ice box as their seats throughout the 30 minutes journey upon hearing that the driver has removed a whole seat from the van.) Our arrival at the well-kept and nicely built Km8 mosque was greeted with the now usual curious faces and children running towards our van. We started promptly at around 8.30 a.m. after transferring all the equipments to the small building that is the village's school right behind the mosque.
The cheery faces of the children waiting in line for their turns to
see the doctor in the mobile clinic.
The writer's group was stationed to manage the mobile clinic for the day, and she herself was to undertake the task of measuring the height and weight of the clinic's patients. As we and a few of IMAC volunteers rearranged what at the time could pass as the furnitures of an old dusty classroom for our little temporary clinic, one could not help but to contemplate what one saw. The very setting defies every typical imageries of a clinic; the rising dust, scattered litter in the room, and the lingering musty smell coming from outside through the classroom windows held nothing similar to the sterile, glowing white walls with the cocktail of strong smell of medicine often associated to any healthcare setting. A similar observation can be made from the circumcision site in the next room, even though it is in greater need of sterilized atmosphere considering the surgical procedures we were performing in there. But this sets an important example of how one ultimately have to make do in certain pressing circumstances, even if it means going against our now natural clinical instincts from years of medical school training. A mobile clinic and operating settings for circumcision procedure are direly needed by the villagers, and we these shall be provided using the available sources and infrastructure.
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The blood pressure taking station and the measurement of weight and height to obtain the BMI of the local population
One of the window panes of the classroom was ingeniously adapted into a
drug dispensing area in the pharmacy station
Alhamdulillah we managed a staggering approximately 600 mobile clinic patients and about 80 boys for circumcision that day. By 4 p.m. we were drained out of every ounce of energy left from the day's sahur. The momentary sprinkles of rain that came down while we were packing our stuff back into the van brought about sighs of relief from some of us; it has been too hot of a day. After passing on a small sum of money as donation to the village's imam and exchanging words of appreciation and congratulations for the smooth proceedings of the planned events for the day, we waved our goodbyes to the Km8 Village.
The educational session and colouring contest was held by the village mosque.
We headed to same place as we did for iftar the day before - a city hall used for conferences, formal dinners, and events of the sorts. Seemed like as did yesterday we would be attending a charity dinner, only this time from a different organizer. With our relatively underdressed attire of t shirts and plain pants (most were simply drenched with sweats and clinical waste exposure), we were seated at one of the VIP tables. Seated in the nearby tables were ambassadors from a number of countries, we noticed the US and Pakistani ambassadors chattering away with their respective translators. In all honestly, the experience felt very surreal for me. If I was in any sense my own self at the moment, I would ponder on how this kind of dinners vaguely mirror the high life of American socialites who raise money for charitable purposes through large dinners and balls; the irony of relieving pain and hunger through events of indulgence. But I was too famished and exhausted for those kind of thoughts, and when the time finally came was only able to plunge myself (while maintaining a decent enough manner, of course) into the scrumptious and finely prepared dinner (though it is only fair to include that some local delicacies were a tad too exotic hence remained untouched) and be extremely grateful for the experience today and the pleasure of being with the good company of the CRM '12 team.
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Snapshots of the team at the charity dinner at the end of the exhausting day.