She’s 17. In the miscarriage ward. Alone in the room full of beds with brightly colored sheets, none of them very clean. By American standards it would be a health hazard. She’s laying on the small, wire framed bed, a thin mattress holding her slight body. Barefoot and stunningly gorgeous as so many people are here. Curled up, she’s turned away from us as we gather around her bed – our own views and “rights” of privacy unknown in Zimbabwe. We’re touring this hospital to get an idea of what maternal health is like in Lupane.
This is a new facility, we’re told. One of the best.
I can’t wrap my head around what others might be like in that case.
The nurse tells us her story while I think of all the HIPAA violations happening right now. There isn’t that level of confidentiality here – a land where the people are more group oriented in their actions than just individual ideals. Culture shock hits a little harder for me.