In The Way of Ignorance, Wendell Berry describes animal factories as “a vision of Hell” for its dis-creation, unhumanity, and exploitation. This week I completed the required entry health examination and feel the travel health center has become the clearest “vision of Hell” in my limited experience.
The center is a maze of exam rooms and lines of people twisting through hallways caked with dirt and mildew. My examination began with a shove forward to the “Phlebotomization” (blood drawing) station, which eerily resembled a teller counter inside a bank. Instead of cash or a deposit slip, I put my arm through the hole, resting it upon a blood and sweat stained cushion. My arm was then stuck with a needle, blood was drawn, and I was motioned to leave, without a bandage, so that the next person could come forward.
It was clear that the center was designed for factory-like speed and efficiency, as well as the health concerns and comfort of the nurses and doctors conducting the exams. At the “Urine” station, for example, the nurse wore gloves for protection, but he never changed them. So with the same gloves with which he had just received full containers of urine from others, he handed me my cup. His hands were safe and dry.
There were eight or nine stations, each of which suffered from similar sanitation issues as well as a lack of privacy. I cringed as I passed a Muslim woman wearing a veil in the hallways, knowing that her desire for modesty would not be respected. She would, like me, be forced to get partially undressed at several stations, in full view of the next few people in line. Unlike me, should would also have to visit the “Gynecology” station, which, I was told, had a window opening to the outside which the doctor refused to close.
I knew before coming that the culture values the community over the individual. I also knew that often the culture values the community to the detriment of the individual. Even a quick perusal of the news articles on Aydun reveals that my experience at the travel health center reflects a more general lack of respect for the dignity and value of the individual, if not by the culture, then at least by the government. But the personal experience of violation and the feelings of helplessness made the facts become a little more concrete.
The experience, however, was not without a few moments of grace, a few glimpses of humanity. I shared a laugh with a few Indians who knew English as we awaited the station labeled “Surgery,” which thankfully was a mistranslation. A few minutes later, after getting shoved into one station while on my way to another, it took me several minutes to realize I had already been there. The nurse and I realized this fact at the same time, and shared a smile before she called the next person. It was the only time my uniqueness as an individual was acknowledged during the examination process, and I’m learning to cherish the moment.