Euro aid helps the lucky few in Tanzania

THE maternity ward teemed with mothers and their new-born babies. One single bed was having to be shared by three women, but none of them thought of complaining — they knew they were lucky to have found a hospital place at all.

The ward would be considered squalid beyond use in Ireland, but in the poverty and despair of east Africa, the overcrowded room where some mothers were forced to squat on the floor due to lack of beds was a lifeline of hope.

There was precious little technology on show, but there was a roof and mosquito nets, which ensured the expectant mothers and their babies had a much better chance of survival than if the birth occurred in their slum homes.

Bertie Ahern has built a career based on kissing babies, but even he appeared slightly thrown by the sheer number of women and infants crammed into one small space demanding his attention.

Anneate proudly waved her subsidised voucher for a mother and baby mosquito net at the Taoiseach, aware Irish Aid had partly funded it. She was less enamoured of the suggestion a nice name for her new son might be Bertie: “I haven’t decided on a name yet, but it won’t be that one,” she smiled.

The hospital was a remarkable example of how a tax euro stretches when it is properly channelled to the far reaches of the world.

If the maternity ward had been crowded the rehabilitation centre was a dizzying conveyer belt of awe.

Each turn seemed to lead to a freshly startling sight. First, the disabled workers with artificial arms or legs, using them to help build more of the same for others in need. Then it was past the teenage boy hanging from a bar as carers used plaster of paris to make moulds for new feet for him so he could walk again.

And then, suddenly, the Taoiseach and following media were all in green surgical gowns and masks in the middle of a tiny, makeshift operating theatre where five people were having surgery done on their eyes, crammed on stretchers right up against us.

Dr Richard Bowman has been at the centre for six years and yesterday was a typical workload as he performed 40 such procedures. He was scornful of those who begrudge their tax money going on overseas aid.

“It is global justice and means that these people can make something of their lives — and why should only people in the West be able to do that? If I can operate on a child before they are six or seven I can save them from going blind. That means they can have a productive life and be part of a productive community that can do more for itself. That is why aid works,” he said.

Mr Ahern was then introduced to 11-year-old Aziza Ashuck, who was now able to go back to school after benefiting from Irish-funded treatment for TB.

The Taoiseach was in flying form and only made one of his legendary linguistic gaffes, when he asked a group of clearly sick youngsters: “Are ye well?” before adding: “Er, ye will be soon.”

After chatting to leprosy victims whose lives had also been changed for the better by Mwananyamala Hospital it was off to a local clean waterpoint where efforts funded by Irish Aid had helped slash the 15,000 cases of cholera in Dar-es-Salaam in 2006 to zero in 2007. Mr Ahern arrived just in time to see local villagers put on a public information drama about why Irish-made water purification tablets saved lives.

The playlet may have been a bit rough around the edges, but the production and script values didn’t seem any more ropey than, say, Ros na Run. More importantly, it was the most effective way to get a life-saving message into the villages and squalid shack cities.

The rehabilitation centre is to get an extra funding of €1.3 million over the next three years, which is part of the €170m being pumped into Tanzania by Irish Aid.

A total of €45m of that will go directly into medicine, like helping the women on the maternity ward at the hospital.

The numbers mean little until you see how far an Irish tax euro can go in a country where more than one on three are expected to survive on less than that amount per day.

Giving hope to lepers, limbs to the crippled and sight to the blind — Irish aid really does have an impact of biblical proportions in the shanty quarters of Dar-es-Salaam.