That’s All--September 2015
Cetout (Photo by John Carroll–September 8, 2015)
One of my last patients today in pediatric clinic was a 19 month old baby girl named Cetout. In Haitian Creole Cetout means “thats all”. And what this REALLY means is that Cetout’s mother REALLY does not want more children.
Ninety-nine percent of the children I see in this clinic in Soleil are very clean. How their mothers bring them in so nice and spotless has been a mystery to me for decades. However, Cetout was pretty filthy as was her beautiful mother. It didn’t take long to figure out that they were from the bottom of Haiti’s social heap.
My first question to each mother in clinic all day long is: “Where do you live?” The majority of our patient population is from Soleil. Hundreds of thousands live here…no one really knows how many. When mothers tell me that they are from Soleil, they frequently flinch and muffle their voices due to embarrassment or fear. There are many shootings between the gangs that live in the different zones of Soleil. And it is a good idea not to go where you are not known. Many moms and babies who visit the clinic are not from this Soleil neighborhood and risk their lives to come here.
Cetout’s Mother (Photo by John Carroll–September 8, 2015)
However, when I asked Cetout’s mother where they lived she replied “la vil” which means downtown Port-au-Prince. This made sense to me as I pictured mother and Cetout living on a cement island separating a boulevard full of black exhaust fumes. Even though this is what I imagined, for some unknown reason I asked mother if they lived in a tent. She immediately said yes.
Cetout, her mother, and her two other siblings live in a tent in downtown Port-au-Prince. Cetout was born in the tent. And when I asked mother how long she had lived “under the tent” she said since January 12. She didn’t mention the year (2010) or the fact that the earthquake caved in Port-au-Prince that very day…I think she just assumed that everyone would know this and therefore no need to mention it.
And when I asked where Cetout’s father was, she calmly replied with no emotion whatsoever, that he is dead. I asked her how he died and she said he was “shot in the market by bandits one month ago”. She claimed his body from the morgue and some “white people” gave her a bag with a zipper on it and she placed his body inside. She went on to explain that she buried her husband in Titanyen which is a large paupers field just north of the capital which contains hundreds of thousands of bodies of January 12. (Titanyen translates to “little of nothing”.)
This history, with closed ended questions and one word or one sentence answers, clearly explained to me why both mother and child look so disheveled and much worse than the usual Soleil people.
I have been in these tents similar to where Cetout, her siblings, and her mother live, and I lasted only sixty seconds or so due to the heat, the lack of air, the closeness, and the hopelessness. How ANYONE could survive five and one-half years in one of these Haitian tents is also a mystery to me. How Cetout’s mother could deliver a live baby and keep her alive, even though a little dirty, is miraculous.
When I asked what brought them to the clinic today mother explained that little Cetout had fever, cough, and wasn’t eating. Cetout weighed 16.5 pounds which put her in the second grade of malnutrition according to her “growth” chart. This mother, like thousands of other Haitian mothers, just do not have enough food for their children.
Cetout’s exam revealed that her left tympanic membrane was bulging with fluid behind it. But other than this and malnutrition I found nothing.
But during the exam I figured that Cetout was very smart. She would look at me briefly and then drop her head and make funny faces. Her faces seemed to be saying, “Do you REALLY mean this? Born in a tent… how do you expect me to look? How do you expect US to look?”
I explained to her mother that I was going to give Cetout an injectable antibiotic for her infected ear. That way mom would not have to mix clean water (of which she has little to none) in an antibiotic powder and give it to her twice a day for five days. Mother liked this idea and I combined it with some vitamins and iron and paracetamol for Cetout.
As I was writing this on her dossier, I handed her mother a large packet of fresh crackers. Cetout saw this and gently took the package from her mother’s hand and began to nibble on the package with her teeth. As I wrote I listened to Cetout persistently attack the package and then watched from the corner of my eye as she happily devoured the crackers. Her mother looked on approvingly.
Cetout and her crackers. (Photo by John Carroll–September 8, 2015)
As the visit ended mother lifted Cetout up and Cetout promptly coughed and sprayed my left arm with dry cracker crumbs that had been hidden in the recesses of her mouth. Cetout looked at me with a content look on her face after this. I think she somehow knew I was going to give her a shot and this was her “thanks” for a little more inflicted pain that she had no choice but to endure.
John A. Carroll, MD
www.haitianhearts.org
Comments in 2015
John, I love your stories. You bring me to tears and then sometimes to laughter ~ as in today with the spray of crackers comment. May God continue to bless you with strength and good health to continue His work here in Haiti.