H.R.H.

“We're emptying the ocean with a thimble,” he said, outlining the situation for them in words that left no doubt as to how desperate the situation of their patients was, many of them refugees from border disputes with Ethiopia in the years before the truce. He also said the truce was somewhat uneasy as Ethiopia continued to lust after Massawa, Eritrea's port on the Red Sea. “All we can do is care for them, make them comfortable, and help some of them until they die. And try to educate others about the prevention of disease.” It was a daunting prospect, as Christianna listened to him, and Samuel and Max also asked him a number of questions. Theirs wasn't a dangerous mission, but it was a depressing one. Their mortality rate was high, a hundred percent among those with AIDS. Most of the women and children who came to them were too far advanced in the disease for it to be arrested, controlled, or forced into some form of remission. One of their main goals, he said, was to prevent new mothers from passing on AIDS to their newborns, by giving both mother and infant medication and convincing them not to breast-feed. Culturally and practically difficult since many of them were so poor, they sold the formula given to them and continued to breast-feed because it was cheaper, and then the babies got AIDS too. It was a constant uphill battle, according to him, to educate and treat them, when they could. “We do what we can for them, but we can't always do a lot, depending on the situation. Sometimes we have to accept that too.” He also mentioned that Doctors Without Borders came through the area frequently and gave them a hand. They were grateful for help from other organizations as well, not just the Red Cross, although a hundred percent of their funding came from them. The local government was too poor to be of any help. He said they were planning to ask some foundations to contribute, but they hadn't had time to write the grant requests yet. Christianna thought she'd like to help eventually, thinking of their own foundation, which contributed generously to situations similar to this. She would learn more about their needs in the coming weeks and months, and talk to the foundation about it when she went back.

It took them five hours to reach the camp. They talked almost all the way. Geoff was a pleasant, obviously kind and compassionate, interesting man, with a vast knowledge about the continent where he lived, and the agonies that plagued it, most of which could not be fixed, for now, and probably wouldn't be for a long time. But he and those he worked with were doing all they could to change that.

Christianna finally fell asleep for the last few minutes of the bus trip, despite the constant rattling, shaking, noise, and appalling fumes that the bus emitted. She was so tired she could have slept through a bomb at that point. She woke up with a start when Max touched her arm. They were in the camp, and the bus was surrounded by Red Cross workers, watching with curiosity to see the three new workers who were about to arrive. They had all been talking about them for weeks. All they knew was that they were two men and a woman, and that they came from somewhere in Europe. There was some vague rumor that they were all Swiss, someone else said they were German, then they thought the men were German, the woman Swiss. No one had mentioned Liechtenstein to them. They were perhaps confused since their stay and arrival had been set up by the Geneva office. But whoever they were, they were more than welcome, and desperately needed at the camp. Even if not doctors or nurses, at least they were willing hearts and hands.

As Christianna looked around, she saw a dozen people staring at her, all of them in assorted informal garb. Shorts, jeans, T-shirts, hiking boots, the women with short hair, or tied up under scarves, several of them had white doctors' coats on, the women as well. She saw one middle-aged woman with a weathered face, a warm smile, and a stethoscope around her neck. There was a very pretty one, tall, with dark hair, who was looking into the bus intently with a native child in her arms. There seemed to be roughly an equal division between women and men. And the age range seemed to span from Christianna's age, or somewhere in that vicinity, to a few faces that looked nearly twice her age. Standing among them were a handful of local workers wearing colorful native garb, some of whom were holding children by the hand. The center itself, at the hub of the compound, looked like a cluster of freshly painted white huts. And on either side were a series of large, almost military-looking tents.