Dezan Coulibaly — In the latest entry in his blog about a massive health drive, Steven Phillips tells of us about the unlikely presence of a navy admiral in landlocked Mali.
DAY 5: How the Malaria World Benefits from an Admiral
It's 6 a.m. and my hotel phone wakes me. Just as well, because the malaria prevention medication I have been taking has been causing graphic nightmares. It's a message that Admiral Tim Ziemer, the coordinator for the U.S. President's Malaria Initiative (PMI), would like me to join him on a field trip today to witness the Mali integrated Child Health Campaign in action. Having traveled with the Admiral previously in Angola - where ExxonMobil's local company is a major PMI supporter - I jump at this opportunity to view the campaign from his official government perspective.
We set out for the commune Dezan Coulibaly, about 100km east of Bamako, in a convoy of four United States Agency for International Development (USAID) cars. The police escort in the lead shoos away all manner of intervening human and animal traffic by waving a commanding extended arm out the passenger window.
The Admiral and I share our car with Christine Sow, the USAID Mali health team leader who provides our advance briefing. She just happens to be a bilingual PhD epidemiologist with extensive international development experience, married to a Malian and possessing the astute cultural knowledge and sensitivity of a seasoned social anthropologist. During our hour and half drive, Christine pulls back the cultural curtain of local practices, preconceptions and myths around malaria. For example, in the local Bambara language, there is no word for "malaria". Because of its ubiquitousness, "fever" says it all.
It's no secret to anyone who has spent time with the Admiral that he's a hands-on type of guy. A former Navy pilot, submarine hunter, and commandant of the Newport shipyard (the Navy's largest port facility in the world) Tim is simply locked in on getting the job done. Leading the PMI in 15 African countries and being accountable to President George W. Bush for results produces a certain decisive tone of resolve when he talks and steeliness of gaze when he looks. And the magnitude of his task requires him to look and talk with great frequency and precision.
Having arrived at our destination, we are received by a phalanx of local dignitaries who had waited patiently in the vast dirt lot in front of the community health center. We meet the Commune mayor, tribal elders, health committee leaders and local NGO representatives.
The Admiral goes beyond diplomatic protocol in graciously recognizing the personal efforts of those receiving us. He makes everyone feel genuinely valued and respected, yet he exudes an undercurrent of edginess and anticipation to get beyond ceremony and "drill down" to really understand how things are working.
We go inside the center and quickly wade through the now familiar throng of eternally patient mothers and noisy children receiving campaign interventions. Then we hop back in the cars for a 7km drive down a desolate dirt path to a nearby village.
We are escorted to the center of the village, a large dirt clearing ringed by mud huts. Ground, dwellings and sky are all hues of brown-grey and provide the perfect backdrop for the swirl of bright reds, oranges, yellows and greens of the flowing robes worn by the 150 or so village denizens gathered to meet us.
A quick glance around us reveals that we are in a location that time has apparently left untouched. No electricity, running water or visible evidence of anything that might not have been here in, say, the 12th century. We are given the traditional welcome of large wooden bowls of goat's milk, water and some less familiar liquids to quench our thirst.
We then begin another round of ceremonial speech-making when somewhat surrealistically we are jarred by a 21st century intrusion. The 'chef du village' takes a wireless microphone from his robe pocket and his voice is conveyed throughout the village by an acoustically perfect sound system.
After drumming and exuberant dancing that with cajoling includes the unhip visitors, the Admiral takes the microphone. He extends the warm greetings of the President, Congress and the people of the United States to the government and people of Mali. He deservedly recognizes the village leadership and everyone gathered for their remarkable efforts in the fight against malaria. The villagers visibly hang on his every word. Facial expressions reveal a clear satisfaction with the Admiral's strong message of hope dispensed with American compassion and resolve. As his words flow, bonds are being forged with the village and continent.
Translating the Admiral's words is a two-step process. Christine converts English to French; then a local dignitary translates the French to Bambara, the tribal language. Christine and I notice that the Bambara version of each translated segment is about three times as long as the original. There is considerably more reaction, animated laughter and applause than the primary message might convey. We have a master Bambara showman at work.
Admiral Ziemer not only has a strongly inclusive message for Africa but also for PMI's international and U.S. partners. He has recognized and reinforced the important role of the business sector since the advent of PMI. In this context he asks me to address the village on behalf of ExxonMobil and the American business community.
I collect my thoughts and start by congratulating the commune for their projected astounding 95 percent participation rate in the campaign. My speech is suddenly interrupted by a stir in the crowd about 10 yards to my right. Two tall young men have just entered the yard carrying a tree branch around which is coiled a beefy, glistening six-foot boa constrictor. I stop dead in my delivery to try to get a fix on what's going on. The crowd's attention is similarly diverted. I rapidly determine that the snake is dead, because its severed head is impaled on a pole carried by one of the men. The chef du village shoos the attention-seeking caravan away but the damage has been done.
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How do I get the crowd back? I have given my share of corporate PowerPoint presentations, but never quite encountered this. So I acknowledge the boa and the bravery of the men and ask for similar heroics in the fight against malaria. Things are back on track.
We conclude our visit with a lunch of grilled hacked mutton and watermelon on the shaded dirt patio behind the commune mayor's modest home. We are all touched by the outpouring of warmth and great hospitality of village leaders and community alike. For a day we were made to feel like members of one large extended family.
After a retracing of our steps back to Bamako, we are guests of Alex and Betsy Newton for dinner at their home. Alex is the USAID mission director in Mali, and he hosted a dozen local staff as a "bon voyage" gathering for the Admiral. Tim lauded the fine work of the mission and of their successful collaboration in the Measles-Malaria campaign. But already on his mind was the full agenda of policy and diplomacy events on his return to Washington DC in less than 36 hours.
As a business sector representative, public health professional and American citizen, I am gratified that Admiral Ziemer is on the job. When he was initially appointed for his position, it may not have been clear that the malaria world need an Admiral. Now almost no one is left unconvinced.
