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Published: September 9th 2010
Sickness in Salvador, Blog 2
Something I neglected to mention in my first blog is the fact that I spent a large percentage of my first fortnight in Salvador on the toilet. This was omitted partly because there were far more interesting things to talk about and secondly because it's a slightly unsavoury thought.
Nevertheless, I do believe it's worth commenting on as I gained a rather unique insight into the healthcare system in Salvador. After having gone to three hospitals of varying hygienic standards before I got anywhere near recovering, I now feel well qualified to 'blog' on this subject.
The first hospital I visited turned me away for reasons still slightly unclear to me (it's hard to concentrate on Portuguese when feeling prone to vomit at any given moment). The second wanted to charge me the equivalent of £80 to see a doctor but then directed me to the 'free' clinic down the road. Free turned out to mean unhygienic and packed full of spluttering, profusely bleeding and in one case dying individuals.
Apparently, if you're poor and have no access to a
'sistema da saúde', you're at serious risk from dying from diseases that should not be a threat in the 21st century. Growing up in England, we perhaps naïvely don't realise the comparative luxury of the NHS, free and competent healthcare for all. Thus, from my point of view it was quite a shock to see a lifeless body wheeled out, only to be immediately replaced by the next patient frantically knocking at death's fragile door.
However, due to necessity, I waited my turn and soon received a prescription from the doctor which would eventually cure the problem. I took the pills he prescribed but politely declined to get a blood test as that was the same room where the corpse had just been removed from.
This lack of access to basic facilities is prevalent throughout the city in most aspects of life; particularly in my work placement. The project takes children from
Bairro da Paz, one of the most violent and dangerous neighbourhoods in the city despite its name meaning
District of Peace. This is pure irony. Whenever I tell an acquaintance the location of my project, they invariably produce facial contortions similar to that of someone who has just swallowed a wasp and urge me not to return.
What is more, there are currently no teachers at the school; one of the two roads to the project is undergoing repairs and the other one runs straight through the favela. Therefore, people are afraid to come to the school until the road is fixed and so I have very little to do. Today for instance, there were only 6 children I had to keep occupied for a few hours. Although they had no class, it's better for them to come to school, even if it is only to have a good lunch and go home in the afternoon.
This in turn has highlighted for me the class and colour divide so prevalent in Brazil. The middle class and almost exclusively white teachers don't want to go to work if they have to pass through the favela. The manual workers are altogether darker and still make it to work at 8am every morning despite facing the same apparent dangers that prevent the teachers from leaving there homes in order to provide some kind of education. This topic needs more time and education before I can comment any further as it's a highly polemic and deep-rooted subject in this country.
I will in turn save my experiences from my time at the project so far for the next blog. I will add that I have yet to take any really negative experiences from there and am really enjoying it. Having said that, I haven't passed through the favela as of yet because I go on foot and so don't have to make that detour.
Obviously, this blog is slightly more retrospective and sobering than the last one but rest assured I am still having a fantastic time; it's almost an out of body experience at some points. I have surfing lessons twice a week, capoeira three times a week and have just come back from holidaying on a tropical island. We had two days off for Brazilian independence day and made a quick boat trip to a real-life paradise called '
Morro de Sâo Paolo . I spent the days playing football on the beaches, attending concerts on the sand and frequently pinching myself to check my state of consciousness.
I'm aware that my experience of Brazil is a far cry from the experiences of those I have spent much of the blog describing. This is very thought-provoking for me and I'll attempt to expand on this point in my next entry.
Until then, abraços para todos.
Marquinho
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Manu
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Heard that
Know what you're saying mate. I once went to a casualty ward at a government hospital in Rio; they were wheeling people around on steel tables, it was about 140% full and there were pairs of army guys in riot kit carrying automatic rifles at every stair entrance and lift entrance. I thought I'd seen rough in South Africa. Interesting observation about racial relations. The biggest irony is that Brazilians are adamant that they do not have any racial discrimination in their society. They imagine they live in a racially harmonious society. It will be very interesting to hear your thoughts about this as your experience here matures. Great stuff, keep it going!