Wrapping Zimbabwe: In which I learn why my Mom is awesome

A Caveat!

I try very hard not to talk about my work on this blog, mostly because it is wildly unprofessional but today it makes sense to do, so I’m going to do it.

This week was my first opportunity to see what health care, social services and government safety nets look like outside the first world. It also happened to be the week the US Supreme Court upheld universal health care in the US. Which I know is a big deal and super divisive, but this isn’t political commentary . . . I don’t think anyway.

Two days before the Supreme Court ruling was released, I was asked to help out at a training. The org I work for has been partnering with UNICEF for about a year now to provide parents of children with disabilities with small grants to purchase things they need and cannot get. Big ticket items like wheelchairs and mattresses. But also critical basics like sun block and hats for kids who are albino, soap, diapers, transportation to appointments and school.

We hold a training for approved recipients once every three months and its sole purpose is to help these parents fill out the paperwork. Filling out paperwork, particularly in the corrupt and bureaucratic maze that is Zimbabwean social services, requires a skill set all its own.

We held this training in the cafeteria of a children’s home on the outskirts of Harare. The walls were cement, many of the windows were broken. The children themselves were starting their school day when we showed up. And inside the cafeteria the first few parents were already waiting and eating the breakfast the home had provided. Orange jelly and butter sandwiches. They were delicious. I had three.

Many came with their children. If their child had a severe physical disability, they were slung to their backs. Parents will carry their child all day, every day, on their backs into adulthood if they are immobile. It sounds uncomfortable, but the alternative for most families (since there are few schools equipped to support children with disabilities, and even then most families can’t afford the tuition or the transportation) is to lock them up for the day. Which is unfortunately a common practice. I have tried to imagine if I were born to circumstances like these, how difficult it would be for my mother, who is a solid food shorter than me, to carry me around all day.

The parents introduced themselves and their families. One woman had five children, two of which with severe physical disabilities. Another had adopted her orphaned nephew with hydrocephalus. The last of the forty parents had come with her son, and explained “I don’t know what it’s called, but he has one leg.” It’s rare that I can catch a joke in Shona. But she was damn funny. Her son was bored as hell though.

After introductions a woman from Zimbabwe social services took the floor. She was young, wearing a fairly nice ivory dress. But as she spoke, the entire room changed. She explained how the Ministry was working “hand in hand with the NGO” on this project and that the Ministry was behind these families 100%. I had the overwhelming suspicion she was full of shit. And then came the questions from the parents, and my suspicions were confirmed.

“How do you expect me to pay for my child’s medications when a claim takes 9 months for you to process? The pharmaceutical company won’t wait that long.”

“Why can’t I get anyone to talk to me when I call?”

“Why won’t Social Services adjust my support allotment now that I have a second child with disabilities?”

“Why are some people getting their benefits and I am not?”

All of her answers were complete bull shit and an obvious effort to shortcut her way through the morning, (“That’s not our responsibility,” “If you’d filled the paperwork out correctly this wouldn’t have happened” . . . ) but to that last question she answered “That is a lie. We have not paid anyone their benefits since November of last year.” 9 months and not a single parent of a child with disabilities in the entire nation of Zimbabwe has received any support from the Department of Social Services. For many, much longer. Not for meds, not for medical bills, not for PT. Nothing.

And when she was done explaining to these 40 parents why they were up shit creek, she sat down and played with her cell phone until 4 in the afternoon. Like a student at the back of my 9^th grade class.  Around the room you could see how worn out these parents were. And I don’t mean “I’ve had a long day at the office” worn out. I mean the kind of worn out you get carrying a 13 year old child on your back each day while you take care of your other 2 children, tend your market stall, cook, clean and fight an uphill battle with a broken and corrupt social services department that doesn’t even care enough to put their damn cell phone away, all the while hoping your child doesn’t have a severe seizure in the night, or react to their new meds because you live 40km from the nearest hospital, have no car and no money to pay an ambulance.

I thought about my Mom, who works for DHS in Portland and has been in social work my entire life, largely working with children with disabilities (hi Mom). If she were in a room with 40 parents who were looking for help, best believe even a text from me would go unanswered. I can’t think of a single one of her colleagues that would have acted this way. I can think of a few who might have stood up and punched this woman in the jaw.  

Someone reminded me that government representatives often come to these things just for the free food. And I thought “Not possible! No one can be that irreverent to the situation these families are in.” But lo and behold, at 3:45, 15 minutes before we closed and passed out lunches to everyone, another DSS representative showed up. He introduced himself, grabbed some chicken and rice and sat down to play with his cell phone.

So for me this taught me a couple lessons. One is that people are resilient. Particularly parents who love their children. I don’t know if every parent that I’ve known would carry their child around on their back through puberty, but I know most would damn sure try.

And kids too. Kids are so resilient. By the time we ended for the day the children living there had gotten out of school. They’d all changed into their after school clothes that were too small and ripped up. Many went without shoes and the only balls they had to play with were wadded up plastic bags. They had some bounce to them, so I was pretty impressed with the ingenuity.  And like every kid I’ve ever known, they were happy to be out of school and playing for the afternoon. Girls were giggling and having private conversations on the swings, boys were running around with stick swords capturing this and usurping that. The basketball game was played on dirt on a broken hoop with no net and no backboard. But luckily, fun doesn’t come in muted colors.

The other thing I discovered is that this subcutaneous argument we’ve been having about social support programs like the ACA creating some kind of nanny state, is entirely baseless. I think it’s rational to wonder if too much support creates dependency, but the truth is there isn’t a single American alive today who knows what it is like to live in a country without social services and government safety nets. Or a single American alive who hasn’t benefited at least indirectly from them. And for me, I’m willing to pay to know that if I have a child someday with a severe disability, he or she will have health coverage, I'll have access to the support I need and we'll have social services rep that will give us the time of day if the alternative is one who can’t be bothered, except for free food.

I know "Starve the Beast" policies are popular, but be careful with your hyperbole. I've seen "starved" government, and it is weak and ravenous.