Dounia ayeke ngangu

I was planning to write about Sango, a language I do love because of it's large capacity for eloquence through metaphoric deployment of a very limited vocabulary, simple grammar, and its history as a language by and for everyone, and not one ethnic group in particular, in the country - a collective ongoing creative endeavor of the Central African people.  But too many kids die today in the ICU.

     Late last night death suspect fulminant hepatitis (skin too yellow, liver too big and tender, hypoglycemia too prolonged, for just another malaria).  This afternoon two year old probable bacterial sepsis.  We guessed wrong on the antibiotics, or maybe we didn't have any for who knows how resistant the bugs are here (no micro), or maybe it was Rickettsia or Borrelia (no spots, no rash, no louse, no tick, but who knows?)  Mom was stoic as she gathered up the boy.  She left grilled corn for the staff.

     Who will not make it to tomorrow?  Should I get Local Style and start going "off protocol" with the hydrocortisone?  I'm tempted. 

Attached photo is outside the OR, under the mango tree.  Nomadic Peul (aka Fulani, Peul, Fulbe, Mbororo) most coming from internally displaced people's camp in outlying neighborhood of Elevage, brought from all over for protection during the worst of the tit-for-tat massacres.