Dr Sanele Madela was plucked from the depths of poverty and whisked off to Cuba to become a doctor.
|||Durban - More than 82 percent of Zululand inhabitants live below the poverty line, earning less than R1 500 a month. Madela’s childhood was no different.
The second last of nine children, he grew up on the dusty outskirts of Dundee and, like most children in his area, going for days without food was just part of life. His mother worked hard as a cleaner at Dundee Hospital, where Madela was born. She scrubbed floors and cleaned toilets to make ends meet, while his father worked in a factory.
There was never enough to go round in spite of two jobs – there were 11 mouths to feed. Often, Madela recalls, they’d scrape burnt pap from the bottom of a pot and mix it with water to ease aching bellies.
His voice chokes as he explains how his mother would sometimes boil water in a pot over an open fire and pretend to cook while Madela and his siblings would eagerly wait to eat. Their wails would pierce the nights until they’d eventually fall asleep, having grown tired of the wait, their tears spent.
But the dawn of a new South Africa meant anything was possible, and Madela held on to that hope: one day he might, just might, become the doctor he often played as a child.
Shortly after completing high school, where he graduated as a top student against all odds, he heard that the Department of Health in KwaZulu- Natal was offering scholarships to deserving students to study medicine in Cuba as part of the South African/Cuban Medical programme.
Cuba provided the accommodation, tuition and meals, while South African health authorities funded the travel and a monthly allowance for their six-year study.
“My mother encouraged me, and, as a devout Christian, she always believed that if it was God’s wish, it would happen. But she also couldn’t believe it when I made it to study in Cuba and reminded me it was part of God’s plan for me.
“I left full of hope and although I missed my family back home with the culture shock in Cuba and all that, it was still heaven compared to our poverty back home.
“We were fed daily, given a monthly allowance by our Health Department which was more than the average Cuban salary, and all our expenses were paid.
“It was an opportunity of a lifetime and I was not going to let anything stand in my way of returning home as a doctor to make my parents and country proud,” explains Madela, who graduated as a doctor from Cuba in 2008.
Today, the 38-year-old works as a doctor in the same hospital where his mother once toiled as a cleaner. There is victory in the symmetry.
Madela has also set up a local organisation which offers free health care to mothers and children in his community when he is not on duty at Dundee Hospital. It’s his way, he says, of giving back.
He renovated his parents’ house. They were comfortable, he says, and did not want to move. His parents are now retired, and spend their days gardening and enjoying DStv – just what elderly parents should be doing, says Madela with a proud smile.
Then he built a home and shares it with his siblings.
It is a far cry from his childhood, and he credits the opportunity given by the South African/Cuban Medical programme.
Madela’s story tells of a lifeline for many students living in poverty, of victory over adversity.
But there are those on the programme who disagree – like the small group who recently returned home, describing conditions in Cuba as “torture and disgusting”.
It was the first revolt in the history of the 17-year programme and has been described as an embarrassment to the close ties between South Africa and Cuba.
Madela has been accused by some of these students of failing to brief them on conditions in Cuba as he saw them off. It’s an accusation he rejects.
“South African medical students in Cuba are living a high standard of living in that country. If you are the son of a wealthy businessman like Sol Kerzner, then R1 600 a month will not be enough. But this allowance is used for personal luxuries which most students there would not even receive back home, let alone receive pocket money.
“Most of our parents don’t even earn that much here, so our students in Cuba are privileged. Latino students, for example, will eat together in the same canteen with their Cuban counterparts, and are served meat twice a week.
“South African students are served meat twice a day and we have our own dining hall just for South Africans because they receive special treatment. Those who complain are spoilt and a disgrace to South Africa,” says an upset Madela.
But his anger is not just aimed at the disgruntled students. He describes the differences between doctors who have studied in South Africa and those in Cuba as oceans apart, saying those here have a lot to learn from their Cuban counterparts.
“Doctors who study in South Africa often have this attitude that they are above society, while in Cuba we learn that we are servants of our communities. We come out of the programme humble, driven by a sense of passion to make a difference in our community’s health. Financial gain is not the main goal. We leave knowing that we have an obligation towards our country’s health.”
But it’s not just the community-driven approach that sets Cuban-trained doctors apart. Despite an American embargo spanning 52 years, the island country boasts one of the best health systems in the world, adopting a primary health care approach – a cornerstone of our own planned National Health Insurance scheme.
With one of the lowest infant mortality rates, virtually zero HIV transmission from mother to child, the lowest TB rates worldwide – and to top it all, a literacy rate of 99.98 percent, it’s no wonder our health system is looking to emulate the Cuban model, its social challenges aside.
With just more than 3 000 South African students studying medicine in Cuba, it would be a shame if one limited walk-out jeopardised the opportunity, given the critical need for doctors here.
Dr Madela is proof that anything is possible if you are hungry and determined enough.
Daily News