Sub-Saharan Iditarod

By Mark Gilkey

As a severely ill truck driver lies in a hospital bed in Africa, an untested 3-man team struggles to stop the epidemic that the driver has unwittingly spread.

Carrying a new vaccine into remote villages spread across the African plain, and overcoming obstacles generated by both man and nature, can the team save the lives of others — as well as their own — before it’s too late?

Inspiration for the story “Sub-Saharan Iditarod”:

This book was inspired partly by the work of Professor of Economics David I. Levine and others on health projects in Less-Developed Countries. Dr. Levine and his students have worked on issues such as:
* cleaner water
* prevention of diseases such as malaria
* more efficient stoves, which reduce wood consumption and therefore reduce deforestation
* early detection of eye problems.

In order to encourage good health habits, Dr. Levine and his team have worked on not only the economics and technology of good health, but on games and songs and stories that encourage healthy habits.

The book was also very loosely inspired by a famous historical event: the Serum Run To Nome. In the winter of 1925, an epidemic of diphtheria was growing in Nome, Alaska. In 1925, there were only two possible way to deliver supplies to Nome in the winter: via a dog-sledding trail named the Iditarod Trail, or by aircraft. The weather was bad, and the available aircraft were primitive and were unreliable in very cold temperatures. Furthermore, the available supply of diphtheria anti-toxin was very limited. If the delivery airplane were to crash, the anti-toxin could have been destroyed, and there would have been no second chance to try again to deliver it by the only other possible method: dogsled. In a difficult decision, Alaskan officials chose to deliver the anti-toxin by a “relay race” of dogsled teams, coordinated by radio communications. An extraordinary group of sled dogs and drivers (called “mushers”) carried the anti-toxin hundreds of miles.

Today, the name “Iditarod” is probably best known as the name of an Alaskan dogsled race. The modern race was itself inspired by the serum run to Nome, and the route of the modern race partly overlaps the historic Iditarod trail used in the original serum run.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lanzinger Studio
• Release date: Oct 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370802821

Mark Gilkey

Mark studied economics, science, and computer programming, and has worked in the computer software industry in several roles, including as a technical writer and QA engineer. He is currently working on both fiction and non-fiction writing projects. In his spare time, he occasionally volunteers with disaster preparedness and environmental groups.

Book preview

SUB-SAHARAN IDITAROD

by Mark Gilkey

© 2016 Mark Gilkey.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published by Lanzinger Studio. Contact the publisher at lanzingerstudio.com

This is a work of fiction, very loosely inspired by a real event in Alaska in 1925, and by continuing efforts to improve health care around the world today.

Table of contents

The Stranger

Doctors Make the Worst Patients

Three Men, Two Motorcycles, and One Trailer

Three Down, None to Go

The First Village

On The Road Again

How To Eat a Lion's Lunch

Now M'Kim is the Stranger

More From Mike

The Most Dangerous Animal in Africa, Part 1

The Gas Can Alarm

The Most Dangerous Animal in Africa, Part 2

An Unexpected Surprise

Goal Reached?

The Wait

A Bad Morning

The Chief Speaks Again

A Bad Situation Gets Worse

Journey's End

Footnotes

Where did the names come from?

Acknowledgments

About the Author

The Stranger

M'Kim turned away from the rusty, broken water pump, which seemed to have water coming out from almost everywhere except its spout. He put down his wrench, and slowly extended his grease-covered hand toward the stranger standing in front of him.

The stranger was white, slightly fat, and had hair that was simultaneously both straight and unbelievably messy.

The stranger hesitated briefly, then shook M'Kim's hand long and hard, and spoke loudly in a language that M'Kim did not understand.

Elimu, the translator, who looked like he was slightly bored but trying to convey the stranger's enthusiasm, said His name is Dr. Mike. He studies the germs in dirty water. He says he has a vaccine for one of the germs, and the vaccine might save many lives.

M'Kim remembered the words of his grandmother, who had said more than once that well-meaning white men often send their sons and daughters to Africa, expecting them to help modernize Africa. But most of the time they are almost helpless when they come here. We take the white boys and girls, and we turn them into grown men and women. Then they go home, thinking they've done us a favor.

M'Kim's grandfather had told M'Kim that many outsiders, by which grandfather sometimes seemed to mean almost everyone except himself, came to the villages just to look at the villagers as though they were animals in a zoo, or, worse, to see how they could steal land or other resources from the villagers. No man comes here to help us, grandfather had said. They come to help themselves.

This particular stranger seemed more like the ones his grandmother had described – perhaps someone who meant well, but had lived an easy life and didn't know anything about this village – or probably any other village in Africa.

The translator continued translating: Doctor Mike wants to take this vaccine to nearby villages. He says that there are many people who will get sick soon, and he wants to help them.

M'Kim tried to smile in response to the stranger's enthusiasm. M'Kim's own sister had died young, probably from dirty water. The village medicine man had tried many things, but his sister had gotten sicker and sicker. M'Kim could still picture her as she went from happy, to in pain, to motionless. M'Kim had spent quite a bit of his life fixing water pumps to bring clean water to villages, partly in the hopes that he could somehow reduce the number of people who, like his sister, had died young from dirty water. If this stranger could make the water less dangerous, or cure someone who had been sick, M'Kim would like to know about it.

But M'Kim decided to watch the stranger carefully, to make sure that he wasn't here for some other reason – too ignorant to know how to take care of himself in a place he had probably never been before.

The translator asked M'Kim whether he could fix motorcycles and trucks, as well as water pumps.

M'Kim answered. I usually fix simple things, like water pumps and bicycles. Sometimes I fix motorcycles and trucks, but it's hard to get the right parts, so I cannot always fix them.

How did you learn to fix so many different kinds of machines? translated Elimu.

Well, like almost everyone else around here, my parents were farmers. Sometimes, when there wasn't much to do on the farm, I went to visit my cousin in the city. He's a mechanic, and he taught me a lot.

M'Kim continued: Farming is boring. It takes three months to make seeds grow. But I can make machines run in a few hours or even a few minutes, so I fix machines whenever I get the chance. And in drought years, it helps to be able to earn some money if you can't grow enough food to feed yourself and your family.

Elimu the translator spoke alternately to M'Kim and Mike. I myself grew up in a nearby village, and knew some of the roads in the area, but I have lived outside this area for many years, and some roads might have changed, and new roads might have been added. M'Kim, we could use someone who knows the local roads between villages, as well as how to fix motor vehicles. Do you know the roads in this area?

M'Kim responded, I know many of the local roads. I fix machines in other villages, as well as my own.

So, will you join us? asked Mike eagerly.

M'Kim thought briefly. The rainy season was about to start. But until the rains actually reached his village, planting would be difficult.

M'Kim was skeptical about taking a strange-looking stranger to other villages, but it sounded more interesting than staying home and waiting for the rains.

If the trip will take no more than a few days, and if you can wait until I finish fixing this water pump and can pack a few supplies, then I will come.

The messy-haired stranger looked pleased and grateful.

I just hope that Mike the stranger doesn't treat me like a child, thought M'Kim, although he didn't actually say it.

Doctors Make the Worst Patients

The stranger had brought pills for himself, as well as to give others. And M'Kim noticed that every time that the stranger ate or drank, he seemed to take at least one pill. He also washed his hands before eating, always using boiled water and some bad-smelling soap.

M'Kim also noticed that the stranger seemed to need to force himself to try the local foods. More than once, the stranger looked as though he disliked what he was eating, but would then try to fake a smile and say, almost convincingly, that he appreciated the food that the villagers were sharing with him. Whether the stranger was just trying to be polite, or whether he was thoroughly dishonest, M'Kim could not be sure.

M'Kim the mechanic, Elimu the translator, and Mike the stranger looked at a map and planned their trip. They would visit six villages over a period of three days, then retrace their steps and return to M'Kim's village.

Mike the stranger had hoped to leave early the next morning, but one of his packages of medicines had not arrived, so the trip was delayed.

The next morning, Mike the stranger looked sick at breakfast. As the day went on, he looked sicker. By early evening, he was barely able to walk, yet he frequently staggered off into the bushes near the village, apparently for his body to get rid of something. M'Kim wasn't sure which part of the body the bad stuff was coming out of, and didn't really want to know.

M'Kim thought it was ironic that the man who had come here to help others not get sick was now the sickest man in the village.

Maybe the white man's medicine doesn't work very well, thought M'Kim.

The next morning, the stranger's final box of medicine arrived on the back of the largest motorcycle M'Kim had ever seen.

The medicine was ready, but the stranger obviously wasn't. Nonetheless, Mike the stranger tried to convince everyone, and perhaps himself, that he was ready to trek to nearby villages.

M'Kim had wondered how the stranger had planned to get to the other villages. The stranger had insisted that the trip could be completed quickly. But the stranger had brought no truck. The truck that had originally brought Mike the stranger and his bags and most of his medicines had left. And no new truck had arrived.

In between trips to the bushes, Mike had spent hours on a small radio, alternately sounding as though he was begging and threatening. M'Kim hadn't understood a word of it, and hadn't bothered to ask the translator what it was about.

To M'Kim's surprise, shortly after the delivery man who brought Mike's last box of medicine had arrived, the delivery man started walking down the road on which he had ridden in, leaving behind the giant motorcycle.

Half an hour later, another motorcycle delivery man arrived at the village. This man delivered nothing at all, but he pulled a small, dirty bicycle out of a trailer attached to the motorcycle, and then he headed back the way he had come, leaving behind his motorcycle and a small trailer that had several large red cans and what appeared to be a tent with holes in it. The trailer also had a long piece of metal pointing skyward.

After Mike the stranger made yet another of his frequent trips outside the village to relieve himself of some type of undesirable bodily fluid, he staggered back, looking simultaneously both badly sunburned and frighteningly pale even for a white man.

The translator came to M'Kim and said simply It's time to go.

Three Men, Two Motorcycles, and One Trailer

Mike the stranger added his bags and medicine boxes to the trailer, then started to climb aboard one of the motorcycles.

Almost immediately, Mike the stranger took his hand off the motorcycle handlebars and hit himself on the head. He then started looking frantically through the trailer, opening up packages, and saying over and over again No No No No, or something