The only plus side was that it afforded him the opportunity to watch Oti in what was clearly her environment. She had a quiet authority about her that was eminently watchable. A grace and an efficiency, just like she’d demonstrated that day back home when she’d helped the woman deliver her baby at the roadside.
Oti clearly cared deeply about her patients, just as there was no doubt in Lukas’s mind that she loved her job. And marriage to him had nearly robbed her of all of that, yet she’d been prepared to do so out of love for her brother.
She made him feel humbled. Which was why there was no way that he was going to spoil things for Oti by letting her see his discomfort at quite how redundant he already felt out here. All he could do was be here in case she needed him for now, and once he got to camp she’d assured him there would be plenty of non-medical jobs to occupy any volunteer.
He fervently hoped that was true. He hadn’t had a full week away from work since he’d written his first app at fifteen; there was no way he could sit and twiddle his thumbs for the next couple of months.
Keeping his distance by the four-by-four, Lukas watched as Oti chatted to the mother, mostly using her own grasp of the language, with their driver and translator standing by for backup, though she didn’t appear to need it.
It wasn’t long before Oti headed back over to him, and he wasn’t surprised that the relieved mother was in tow.
‘This is Larhan and her baby. I suspect he’s contracted neonatal tetanus, so the earlier we start treatment, the more chance he has of survival.’
‘She was walking to the camp?’ He didn’t know why he felt so shocked. ‘It’s an hour’s drive away. And even at our slow driving speed on these so-called roads, there is no way someone walking would get there before nightfall.’
‘That’s why we’re taking her with us,’ Oti confirmed. ‘I’ll sit in the back with them, but her baby is going to need space. Could you get the rucksacks out and keep them in the front with you? It’ll be tight, but rather that than them falling against him. He’s in enough pain as it is.’
‘Are the limbs meant to be locked out like that?’ He frowned. ‘I mean, obviously they’re not meant to be but...’
‘I know what you mean.’ She even offered him a smile. ‘The muscle rigidity is caused by the toxin acting on the baby’s central nervous system.’
‘But he’s...what...a few weeks old?’ He had no idea about babies, but he looked small. ‘How did he get tetanus?’
‘Given that he’s only five days old, I’d say it’s likely he contracted it due to poor umbilical-cord-cutting practices when he was born. A dirty blade or, more often out here, the practice of drying out the cord by sealing it with cow dung. Sort of like a poultice. We see it a lot out here.’
‘Isn’t the cow sacred to some of the tribes out here?’ he reflected carefully.
‘Exactly, but right now this baby is suffering with spasms, and if we don’t get him back quickly then he’ll most likely die. In our camp, around three in every four babies that we see die of it, usually because they don’t get to us in time, but also because we have limited resources out here.’
Shock ran through Lukas as he hauled the rucksacks onto his back and ran them around to the front of the vehicle. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he’d agreed to travel out here with her, but it hadn’t been this. It was quite a rude awakening.
‘It gets worse, though,’ Oti added quietly as she came around with the last bag. ‘We call it the silent killer because we only get to see about five per cent of the babies who suffer from it. As far as we can estimate, many thousands more die at home, in terrible pain.’
‘But even if we get him back to your camp in time, the probability is that he won’t survive?’
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Instead, he followed her around the back of the four-by-four to help her and the mother and baby into the back. Then he slammed the old creaking door as gently as he could and prepared to push the vehicle out of the boggy mud where it had sunk after being stationary for even that short period.
At least that wa
y he felt useful.
And an hour later they were finally at the compound, a high brush fence surrounding baked clay brick huts and various tents, from nine-by-nines to larger marquee-style offerings.
He watched Oti leap down into a handful of other medical volunteers who looked to be coming out to greet them.
Their expressions of delight and welcome switched instantly to professional mode as Oti approached, their gaze dropping from her to the wailing baby in her arms.
‘This is Shangok. He’s five days old. We saw his mother, Larhan, about an hour down the road to the camp, so we brought them in. As far as I can gather, he was born a healthy two point eight kilograms, and for the first few days he fed, slept and cried as normal. Yesterday, however, he stopped feeding and began to turn stiff. He hasn’t slept or stopped crying since.’
‘MNT?’ one of her colleagues posited.
Oti gave a curt bob of her head. ‘I suspect so.’
‘We’ll take him inside and get treatment started if you want to get settled in?’
‘No.’ Oti shook her head. ‘I’ll do it. Give me one moment.’
‘You’re jumping straight back into work,’ Lukas said as she hurried over to him.