How to fill a tooth in the dark — Building local capacity

By Ty

Imagine living as a farmer out here in remote Tanzania.  You have no cash in your pocket on a daily basis.  Now imagine that you develop a toothache.  The cost to get to the city (the nearest dentist, who often doesn't use anesthesia, by the way) is about ten dollars.  And it's another ten dollars to get the tooth pulled.  That's about what a goat costs.  And you only have two goats.  It would take you three weeks to earn that much money, if you could find a job, but there aren't any jobs.  So you just live with two months of excruciating pain, pus pouring out of the roof of your mouth, until your tooth finally falls out.  Or worse yet, your cow kicks you in the teeth, breaking off several in the front at the gum line. You save up fifty dollars over six months and you take a trip to the city to find a dentist.  Everyone says there is nothing you can do (unless you are rich, and you travel to the capital and spend $1000 to get your teeth fixed--but they don't even tell you that part because they know you're whole farm isn't even worth $1000).  You just have to live with that for the rest of your life.  Now you can see how valuable skills in dental care would be out here--how much you could help people if you had them, and how much you could help yourself.

That's why we're excited to be hosting a class in appropriate dental treatment for the next month.

In an effort to build capacity within the local community to improve their own health we happily welcome Dr. D and J, an amazing couple who are a dentist and a dental hygienist who have come from the states to teach a course in ART (Atraumatic Restorative Treatment) .  Most simply stated, this is how to do good dentistry in the bush, without electricity or running water, much less fancy technology. These good folks (and dear friends of ours) have gone out of their way to learn and then learn how to teach how to provide much needed dental treatments such as fillings, repair of broken teeth, and even pulling of teeth that can't be saved--all safely and relatively painlessly.

J. and D. teaching ART to the clinical staff.

Dr. D. oversees the students evaluating each other.

The class is attended by all four of our Tanzanian medical clinic staff , a City of Hope staff member, as well as a couple of other guests.

In the interest of helping nearby communities and health professionals, we invited two government clinic employees from neighboring communities.  We offered to give them the training completely for free (rarely do we offer things 100% free).  The invitation was extended by  Dr. B, the general manager of our clinic, who knows both of them personally.

Evaluating all the children at City of Hope (Little T. has 2 cavities...frown.)

Practicing on one another.

Their response was surprising.  They asked, "How much are you going to PAY us to receive the training?!"  They pointed out that when a particular non-profit organization with the word "population" in their name came to this region, they paid local nurses 75,000 Tanzanian shillings per DAY to listen to their training in how to hand out condoms (assuredly a simple activity)!  75,000 shillings is $50--what a typical farm laborer here would make in a month!

Why would anyone pay such a ridiculously high rate to "teach" someone population control...I mean, how to put on condoms?  Perhaps they are motivated by promoting their ideology?! (I will leave my population control rant for another day--the short version is that if you simply send girls to school, and help people improve their land and agriculture, there will be no "population problem".  Sub Saharan Africa is incredibly fertile.  She can feed herself. )

Furthermore, paying over-inflated wages is TERRIBLE for the local economy.  It leads to inflation of actual health care and other costs.  Why would a nurse sit in a village and treat poor people for malaria for five to ten dollars a day when she could sit in the city and make $50 listening to a westerner tell her how to hand out condoms?  Well, she might sit in the village if she could get $40 a day instead of $5. So what does she do?  She either goes to the city, leaving the poor with no help, or she charges the poor higher fees to make up for her lost "opportunity" in the city.  Look, if someone wants to offer seminars on how to pass out condoms, I won't argue.  I believe in a open and free market of ideas. They are welcome to try to offer their condoms as a way to help the poor.  But don't pay people RIDICULOUS sums to sit in your lectures.

I was pretty angry when I heard this.  I'm glad I wasn't face to face with the guys when they said they wanted to be paid to receive a free gift. which we were offering in an attempt to educate them and help their communities.  Because I might not have been gracious about it.  I said we are not going to pay them.  I still hope they come anyway.

Lest I spend too long astride my high horse, I shall get off now.  This morning I read about Peter's denial of Christ.  At the Last Supper, Jesus warned the disciples that they would disown Him and run away.  Peter vehemently denied this possibility.  Basically he said: "Others may do this, but I won't.  I would sooner die."  It was much easier for Peter be to critical of others than himself--to imagine others failing, but not himself.

I find myself asking:

How often do I do that?  How often do I find fault in others, when I am guilty of the same thing myself?

In what way am I guilty of the same thing I am critical of in others (witness my tendency to criticism above)?  How often does God give me a gift, and in return I demand to receive something for the act of accepting it?

How often does God send me a trial--for my own benefit--only to find that I demand some blessing simply for the obedience of tolerating the gift?

Our trials are gifts.  Usually we tolerate them at best.  Usually we want something good to be given along with the thing we can't help seeing as bad.  We want to be paid to tolerate our trials.  Rarely do we receive them warmly.  But why would God allow them if they weren't for our good in the end--even if we can't see that good now?

Our trials are gifts.  If only our hearts could believe it.