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From Africa Recovery, Vol.15# 1-2 (June 2001), page 8

Drug prices: the view from Mabvuku

By Mercedes Sayagues, Johannesburg

Prisca Mhlolo does her rounds in Mabvuku township outside Harare, Zimbabwe. An AIDS counsellor for a local non-governmental organization (NGO), she is infected with the AIDS virus herself. On her block alone are two people terminally ill with AIDS and three other HIV-positive women, including her sister. "Who knows how many others are HIV-positive and don't know it or don't say it," she says.

To the sick, Ms. Mhlolo gives sympathy, advice on healthy living, and Vaseline for skin sores. There is nothing else she can do. The NGO that employs her cannot afford more. Plaxedes Chiwore, aged 38, is one of her patients. With sunken eyes, ribs sticking out, mouth and shoulders covered with white plaque, Mrs. Chiwore can hardly talk. The caregiver, her 14-year-old daughter, says her mother has burning chest pains, difficulty swallowing and vaginal itch. "Systemic thrush," nods the counsellor. This nasty fungus literally and painfully clogs the human system.

Systemic thrush is treatable with a short course of fluconazole, an antibiotic patented in 1982 under the commercial name Diflucan by the US pharmaceutical giant Pfizer. But in Zimbabwe, where the monthly minimum wage is $30, a one-month course costs $500. There is no point in going to the local health clinic, because the nurses only have aspirin. Little else is available. Zimbabwe's health system, once the pride of Southern Africa, has collapsed alongside its economy.

Africans pay a high price to treat sickness. Few live in countries with adequate public health systems and fewer still work in the formal economy, where they may be eligible for health insurance schemes. Treatment for one case of childhood pneumonia in Zambia, for example, costs $9, or half a family's monthly income. In Uganda, three out of four urban households buy less food if they need to buy medicines. A single illness can swallow a third of monthly income. Such disease-coping strategies mean the family eats less, spends less and sells assets like land, livestock and tools. To save on fees and to care for sick relatives, children drop out of school, especially girls. Families borrow from relatives or lenders -- slipping deeper into poverty and leaving themselves that much more vulnerable to disease and despair.


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