According to the World Health Organization there are 300 to 500 million clinical cases of malaria each year resulting in 1.5 to 2.7 million deaths. It is one of the world’s deadliest diseases and one of the leading causes of sickness and death in developing countires. Therefore, when I grew ill for several days in Tanzania (an infected area), I became nervous knowing the possibility of it being maleria was real. I convinced myself it was the flu at first but when no one else grew sick around me and the researched symptoms sounded similar to malaria, I was easily convinced that I should go to a clinic to get tested. As for getting tested, I didn’t know what to expect or how long it would take, but I knew that the longer I let it persist, the worse off I’d be.

I had just taken the ferry over to Zanzibar that morning and I felt sick as a dog on the boat. Upon arriving, we quickly found a place to drop our bags and immediately set out to find the clinic the guide book suggested for travelers wanting to be tested for maleria. After walking around in the scortching sun for what seemed like entirely too long, we popped our heads into a hotel and asked the owner if he could assist us in finding the clinic we were looking for. He had never heard of it however, coincidentally, he mentioned he felt as though he may be infected with maleria as well and that he’d walk us to a clinic he knew close by so that we could both get tested.

We followed him closely, winding through the narrow, maze like streets lined with archaic stone buildings and shops. Within 5 minutes, we arrived at the clinic. It was what I was expecting for an African building: a small, old, and somewhat rundown building with a sign at the top of the door stating that indicating it was a clinic and drug facility. The nice hotel owner walked me inside where we both quickly filled out a small form giving our name and date of birth. I followed him back to a small room where I went inside facing a doc sitting in a white lab coat. He didn’t speak much English but I said “malaria test” and he knew right away what he was doing. He opened a small metal needle from a secure wrapper, rubbed my thumb with alchohol and gave it a good prick. As the drop of blood on my finger grew larger, he collected it on small glass try, put it under his microscope and told me to wait in the hall outside.

I sat there on the bench next to another man waiting for his results for only a few minutes when the doc called me back in to his office. He handed me a blank paper with one scribbled word on it… ‘NEGATIVE.’ As crazy as it sounds, I had mixed feelings as I stared at the note in my hand. If I tested possitive then I would know what I had and I could be prescribed medicine to treat it promptly. On the other hand, testing negative proved that my anti-malarial pills are working and that my immune system would get stronger.

I went to pay at the front counter and when the woman told me the amount I owed, I was completely shocked. It equated to a little under $1.50 USD!!!! How could it cost so little, yet millions of people don’t get tested when they come down with symptoms? Up to 2.7 million people die EVERY YEAR because they don’t treat their malaria in a timely manner. I understand $1.50USD is equivalent to much more in developing countries but it disgusts me to think that while we throw money around like chump change, other people live off of less than that per day. It has made me appreciate the value of $1.50USD and I will forever sympathize with those who debate whether they should get tested and increase their chances of survival or feed their family.

This entry was posted on Saturday, October 3rd, 2009 at 12:00 pm and is filed under Africa. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.