After Colonel Magoro had joined them, Kenyan army troops offloaded their gear and drove Peyton, Jonas, and their team quickly through Mandera. The ride across the streets of hard-packed dirt was bumpy and dusty. Through the red clouds billowing at the back of the truck, Peyton got a hazy view of the rural town.
She saw mostly single-story buildings arranged in a haphazard grid. They spread out from Mandera Road, the main thoroughfare that ran through the center of town. Livestock wandered the streets—cattle, camels, and goats driven by ranchers bringing them to market. Residents pushed single-wheeled carts loaded with produce. Kids stood on every block, gawking at them as they passed, many pausing soccer games to watch.
Their local guide shared some background on Mandera. It was the poorest of Kenya’s forty-seven counties. Education was ranked at the bottom; there were a hundred students for every teacher. Health care facilities were the worst in the country. Mandera’s residents were largely subsistence farmers and ranchers. The economic situation was dire.
In 2013, the Kenyan government had begun a process of devolution, handing much of the governing power in Mandera down to the county government. With the help of non-governmental organizations like the Red Cross and the UN, as well as support from the Kenyan government, the county had started turning its situation around. They had embarked on several large public works projects, including upgrading the airport and building a new government complex, a stadium, and an international livestock market. The convoy passed several of these projects, which were still works in progress. The airport and the new governor’s mansion seemed to be the only completed facilities.
The government had also updated and repaired Mandera Referral Hospital. The improvements had bolstered patient safety immensely, although the local terror attacks and recent payment problems had set their progress back. The county had also acquired its first ambulance and had contracted with the Red Cross for seven more. But on the whole, the hospital was still a far cry from what administrators wanted for their county and their people.
Peyton listened intently to the story of a county that was making its best effort to improve the situation for its people. The outbreak had come at the worst time.
The convoy stopped at Mandera Referral Hospital, which was centrally located. Two bus stops were nearby, as were the town hall and post office. The facility itself was a collection of run-down single-story buildings connected by breezeways. A wooden sign painted blue with white letters hung over the courtyard entrance.
The Kenyan Ministry of Health had sent in a team shortly after the outbreak was reported, and they had brought with them a military escort to protect their team from al-Shabaab terrorists and to prevent local residents from entering the hot zone. From the looks of it, the Kenyans had done an excellent job: army troops in PPE patrolled the perimeter, assault rifles at their sides. To Peyton, the place looked more like a prison than a hospital, but she knew this was for the best, as it would keep the uninfected far away.
The Kenyans had set up a tent complex just outside the hospital, and Peyton and Jonas made their way there. At a long folding table, the head of the Kenyan Ministry of Health’s mission, Nia Okeke, gave her report. She was a little older than Peyton, her black hair slightly graying at her temples. She spoke without emotion, describing the situation succinctly.
Peyton was impressed with how much the Kenyans had done in such a short amount of time. On whiteboards that lined the walls of the tent, contact trees spread out in blue and red ink. Maps were marked. Numbers were tallied with times beside them.
When Nia finished her briefing, Peyton asked to see Lucas Turner.
“Of course. And there is someone else I believe you should also speak with,” Nia said.
Peyton suited up, doused her PPE with chlorine, and headed toward the hospital. Jonas was close behind her, as was Hannah Watson, a physician and first-year EIS agent. Peyton had never worked with Hannah during a deployment, but in reviewing her file, she had learned that the young physician hoped to work as a field epidemiologist for the CDC after her EIS fellowship.
Peyton didn’t envy what Hannah was about to go through. She could remember her first deployment similar to Mandera; she figured every field epidemiologist did. But it had to be done: Hannah had to learn, and reading and classroom instruction could only take her so far. She needed field experience, and Mandera was the perfect opportunity.
Peyton allowed Jonas to enter the hospital ahead of them.
“You clear on what you’re doing?” Peyton asked Hannah, who held a refrigerated box at her right side.
The young physician nodded. Through the clear plastic goggles, Peyton could already see the drops of sweat forming on her strawberry-blond eyebrows.
“If you get too hot or need a second, just walk outside and breathe. If you need to take a break, don’t hesitate. There’s nothing wrong with stepping back for a minute.”
Hannah nodded again, and Peyton thought she saw some of the tension drain out of the young physician. She hoped so.
Inside the suit, Hannah could feel her entire body starting to sweat. It felt twice as hot inside the hospital as it had outside.