Dispatch from Albania # 9 Nov. 24, 1999

Dispatch from Albania # 9 Wednesday, Nov. 24, 1999

[Sorry, but these messages are getting longer.]

Up and outta our apt. at 6:15 (AM!!) for 4-hr drive to Elbesan (instead of usual 1 1/2 hr because bridge was out) to photograph a clinic and nursesí training. Drove in van with 2 doctors and 3 nurses. Adrian, one of Albanian doctors, told us he could be living in the US making $ but he would only be working and not giving input, so heís staying here. Heís trying to empower nurses in this country because they are more accessible to the patients than are the doctors. Like most doctors in America want to live nice lives in cities and suburbs instead of ghettoes and Appalachia, same is true here. Doctors donít want to go back into the villages. Furthermore, doctors in Albania get paid so little that they have to work two jobs as Adrian does: private practice and part-time at IRC.

Infant mortality rate is higher in Albania than any other European country and is one of highest in world, so IRC and other organizations are reaching out to help educate nurses, provide medicines and vaccinations, and save some of the children.

Diarrhea is the biggest cause of infant death in Albania, so the training of nurses today was to teach them how to diagnose the worst cases, treat them, track them, meaning trace them back to the source if possible to learn if thereís an epidemic, and if something specific is causing it, i.e., one particular water supply. The nurses seemed eager to gather his information to improve their skills. There was little giggling when I took their pictures, which conveyed to me the seriousness of their goals. Walked down a dark hall to an antiquated lab. Photographed several technicians doing research with what looked like microscopes we had in 7th grade. Saw only a few pieces of testing and treating equipment. Tongue depressors were only thing in ample supply. Photographed crying children, crying babies, anxious parents, and anxious grandparents.

Photographed small boy being examined for cough; another boy for sore throat; a baby for diarrhea; and a pregnant woman. All seemed to get special attention once they got into the nurseís office, but Kathy and I wondered if they received that because a camera was in the room. Soooo many people needed medical help.

Drove through Elbesan to IRCís regional office where we met a translator who took us out to the steel and chrome factories, now in 30% production. Enormous bombed-out looking buildings expanding over 100ís of acres of flatland. Smokestacks, metal wires where trams of ore used to buzz along. Large rusty, unpainted, unkempt buildings with every pane of glass broken or knocked out. (Would be a photographerís Mecca for dilapidation and design but obviously was terribly sad.) At the end of one long warehouse, several men were welding window frames, metal garden gates, bedsteads, and cots for the refugees. A family-run shop barely getting by.

>From there we went to late lunch of fries and tough meat. Started to get a pizza, but cook said it would take 1 hr. to prepare. Kathy was so truck-driver hungry that she said sheíd take the fries and meat and also told us, ìShare a pizza? I am not sharing this meal with nobody!î

She has a section in her brochure on tobacco and problems it causes (Note: Tobacco is one of the biggest products and exports in Albania), so we photographed a few people puffing away on their cigarettes. Earlier I had noticed an old man on the street with a card table full of different brands of cigarettes, some candles, and Chicklets, so we found him and photographed. But 10 feet away was his 10-year-old son selling only cigarettes, so that was the picture.

I decided to get a hotel room tonight while Kathy, Adventurous & Gracious Kathy, had supper and spent the night with an Albanian family. We donít know if sheíll have electricity, plumbing, good bed, or even English language, but sheís ever so game and wanted to go. Not I because we have 3 more long days and I donít relish a cold, sleepless night on hay. Makes some of us less productive and gives some of us either new ailments or hypochondria. I chose the Soviet hotel instead. Really, itís the Spamgo (?), designed and used by the Communists. Looks exactly like youíd think a Communist building would look and feel . Large, inhospitable, austere, severe. Men standing around in the lobby talking, smoking, and staring at newcomers, especially women. Has only local phone service in the lobby. Walked up 3 flights of stairs to room. The aroma on the stairway was fresh pee. (Sorry, Mom: urine.) I donít know why that odor. The place looked clean. Very Spartan room. No phone but certainly TV, and glory be: a heater if you requested one, hoping it wouldnít burn down the polyester curtains. Very slippery throw rugs on the parquet floor that I quickly slid under the bed. Single ceiling light had at most 25 watts and bedside lamp up 4 feet above the bed was a white Christmas bulb, 7 watts max.

Supper in basement restaurant the size of, say, the cafeteria at Henderson High. I was only customer. Bare walls except for one painting of a gypsy with half a nipple showing. (Seinfeldís Elaine would appreciate.) Twenty-seven light fixtures on ceiling and only 4 turned on. Cat nearby, mewing for some of my potatoes. Strange feeling to be alone in such a place. Took out my Palm Pilot and tried to pass time, but that didnít satisfy, so I practiced saying thank you in Albanian: fah la men dare it. Laughter from the 3 waitresses.

Thank goodness for Melatonin to help sleep, because security doesnít come with the $27 and a copy of your passport. Thereís only one controllable lock and also a lock that locks you inside your locked room. Felt like I was in that YWCA room in NYC where you had a cell for $10/night. Kathy told me to put a huge table in front of the door. Couldnít move it so put a chair with my only available weapon nearby, some hair spray in case I needed to zap someone. I asked Kathy what to do if someone barged on in. She reassuringly told me, ìWell, Kiddo. Your time will be up.î At least the $27 included breakfast, i.e., toast, jam, Turkish coffee, and water. Kathy later said she had the same at her Albanian friendsí over-night, except she spent 4 1/2 hours at supper & also got Coca-Cola.

Love,
Carolyn

By the way, the literacy rate in Albania is one of the highest in the world. Iíve seen figures ranging from 92% to close to 100%. Now that is some human resource!



next