University of Northern Iowa

Passing the Masonic Home for the AgedAuthor(s): Herbert ScottSource: The North American Review, Vol. 254, No. 1 (Spring, 1969), p. 46Published by: University of Northern IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25116925 .

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Finally Doc decided we had done all we could for

now. The tubes were disconnected. Instructions were

given to the mother and several other natives. We would

be back at dawn to work with her again. Outside the

night air revived us, and I gulped several lungfuls. Chil

dren's whimpering still floated out from the darkened

buildings. We were exhausted. Next morning all of us rolled out at first light, and

headed back to the refugee camp. Most of the refugees

were still asleep, but two fat vultures were out early.

Perched on the worn mud steps outside that school room

door, they told us our worst fears had been realized.

I picked up a handful of dirt and threw it at the ugly

creatures. One of our crew muttered a bitter something

in Dutch, and turned back toward the Land Rover. Doc

was inside less than a minute; outr little girl was dead.

Letting one of the kids, one of the thousands we saw

each day, become a personal thing with us was something

we tried never to do, but it was a trap we fell into all

too often. This kind of tragedy was repeated over and over

again, as we sought to bring medical attention and re

lief foods to the several million Ibo people tottering on

the brinik of mass starvation. As in any civil war, the

fighting in Nigeria/Biafra had been vicious and at times

without quarter from either side; yet, although the war

had been going on for some time, relief action under

the direction of the International Committee of the Red

Cross was not finally allowed until the early spring of

1968. Not quite a year had passed since the Ibos had

declared the Eastern Region of Nigeria an independent

republic and called it Biafra.

Since that time, Federal Military Government Forces

had retaken a great deal of the original secessionist terri

tory. The civilian population of these areas either re

treated with the Biafran army or fled into the deep bush

country. Fear of death, deepened by the original mass

slaughter of at least 20,000 Ibos by Northern tribesmen,

now served to imprison several million men, women and

children. Hiding in deep bush country, they scratched

the earth for whatever food they could find, but these

masses of people soon consumed almost all of the protein

foods available, including wild animals and birds. Now

they found themselves left with only dwindling supplies

of yams and cassava, locally grown foods rich only in

starch. The total lack of protein in the diet began to tell.

First to suffer from kwashiorkor, malnutrition or

acute starvation were the children. Symptoms of kwash

iorkor were easily distinguishable. The hair turns a dull

orange in color, the extremities swell tremendously with

edema, the child loses interest in his surroundings, be

comes weak and eventually dies. Generally the young

sters' stomachs become extremely distended from both

malnutrition and infestations of worms or other parasites.

Boys and girls suffering from marasmus, the classic

picture of wasted bodies, skeleton frames covered by

wrinkled, dehydrated skin, were also a common sight.

It was this tragic situation of human suffering and

misery into which we willingly plunged. I had arriveSd

in Enugu, former Biafran capital, on the second of August, to begin a four month stay. My first job was that of

Relief Specialist, charged with getting things ready for a massive food distribution and medical relief program. But right along with the preparations for much needed

additional medical teams, relief workers, tons of food and fleets of vehicles, I had to provide for the mass distribution of some food at once. The only way to give any understanding of what this experience was like, is to describe the early food distributions and medical clin ics. The same story was repeated day after day, week

after week, throughout the Federal-held and Biafran-held territory.

Several days prior to opening a new food distribution and medical clinic site, we would meet with the local

village chiefs or leaders. They would be advised to send word back as far into the bush as possible, to encourage those in hiding to come out to see the doctor and receive food rations. We did our best to convince them that it would be safe, and that soldiers would not molest them while Red Cross was on the scene.

Arriving at the site shortly after eight a.m., we would be greeted by anywhere from five- to seven-thousand people, many in truly pathetic condition. Our immediate task was to select about twenty helpers from the healthier

men present. Once we had picked these, their first job was to cut switches and literally drive away the several hun

dred others who also wanted to be helpers. Next they

helped us line up the three thousand people (an average number) who wanted medical attention. As soon as the people were in a makeshift line the hardest job of the

HERBERT SCOTT

PASSING THE MASONIC

HOME FOR THE AGED

It is winter at the old folks' home.

The summer chairs on the porch

are facing the wall, bending

in prayer. Snow hangs

like a shawl across their backs.

On the lawn, drifts grow like weeds,

branches of trees snap

at one another, and do not apologise.

The street has gone away to stay.

Under a roof heavy with clouds, screens creak

like old bones. Inside, the faces

of ten thousand winters press the panes.

46 The North American Review

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