Zimbabwe blog: Parliament opens as patients despair

Last Modified: 26 Aug 2008
By: Guest blogger

As Zimbabwean guest blogger Helen watches the opening ceremony of parliament, a friend tells her how patients are struggling to get necessary medicines.

I watched the opening of parliament on TV with Frank, a friend who has epilepsy.

I hadn't seen him for a while and while we waited for the live coverage of the ceremony to begin, he told me what had happened when he went to the large government hospital a few days ago.

Frank got to the hospital early in the morning, an hour before the outpatients department opened. There were already forty people standing in line and the queue was growing every minute.

When the doors opened at 8am there were about 200 people waiting to see the pharmacist and collect life preserving medication on repeat prescriptions for conditions such as high blood pressure, asthma, HIV/AIDS, epilepsy and diabetes.

Nothing happened for an hour and there was no explanation for the delay but at 9am the pharmacist finally came out and he went quickly down the line looking at people's open case record books.

The pharmacist could not help the woman and neither could he help Frank who needs 3 tablets every night to control his epileptic fits.

Nothing

"Nothing, nothing, nothing," he repeated as he looked at the books being held open by the patients.

The pharmacist at this big, provincial, teaching hospital had none of the drugs needed by the waiting people: no anti-retrovirals for HIV, no insulin for diabetics, no blood pressure pills, nothing for asthma, nothing for epilepsy.

"You are wasting time here," he said "go and try somewhere else, we have nothing."

In a few minutes the 200 strong queue had all but dispersed. The pharmacist offered to write referral letters for people to take to chemists in South Africa, Zambia, Botswana or Mozambique and said he was sorry but there was nothing else he could do.

This hospital, like all other government hospitals around the country, has no drugs on hand, no stocks on order, no money, no budget and no idea when there may be a change in the situation.

Frank watched a woman, perhaps in her late fifties, sitting on a wooden bench weeping. He saw her tears dripping onto the cracked concrete floor, their wetness bright in the dust. He tried to comfort the woman but she was inconsolable.

"Now I am going to die," she said. "Without my tablets I will die."

The pharmacist could not help the woman and neither could he help Frank who needs 3 tablets every night to control his epileptic fits.

Parliamentary performance

Frank drew quiet from telling his story and we turned to watch the TV screen - a rare treat as the electricity is usually off for 16 hours a day.

We watched the police cars, the mounted escort, the black, open topped Rolls Royce and in the back seat just one head - that of Mr Mugabe. No sign of Mrs Mugabe today - strange, unusual.

After Mr Mugabe had inspected the guard of honour he disappeared and then the spectacle started.

Five months after the elections and now at last we could finally see the men and women we'd chosen filing into Parliament. The new opposition MDC MPs were easy to spot: they were smiling, waved and raised their arms to greet the spectators.

Five months after the elections and now at last we could finally see the men and women we'd chosen filing into Parliament.

"They are for the people!" Frank said, "you can see it so easily."

Then followed the red robed judges, the chiefs, senators and governors. The green leather benches in the House of Assembly held far more people then they were designed for in our massively inflated Parliament. Some people had to sit back while others sat forward in the leg spaces and still others wedged in sideways.

When Mr Mugabe walked in the ZANU PF MPs rose, the MDC MPs remained seated - a sign of things to come.

For thirty minutes Frank and I were riveted to an electrifying performance. The MDC MPs called out, shouted, sang, talked, jeered, heckled and challenged Mr Mugabe throughout his speech. "ZANU is rotten!" they sang and clapped while Mr Mugabe raised his voice and spoke ever louder to make himself heard.

"ZANU is dead and buried!" the MDC MPs sang out repeatedly in gospel type chorus.

Mr Mugabe's forehead glistened with sweat and he spoke faster and faster until he got to the end of his prepared speech. As Mr Mugabe left the House the MDC MPs remained seated.

Respect is lost. Recognition has gone.