Rasof and Sidol, a Tibetan nurse from the nearby city of Leh, walk past a generator sitting at the entrance of the ramshackle clinic. Inside, the nurse-doctor duo pull up chairs around a small table. A medicine cabinet with semi-stocked shelves stands in the corner of the mostly empty room. Next door, a team of nurse assistants hunch over a table with vials of blood laid out on it.
“Out of 800 [patients], 80 have tested positive so far,” Sidol informs the doctor, looking down at her files. He nods, knowing the consequences and the importance of getting treatment.
Hepatitis B is a worldwide disease. According to the World Health Organization, the virus has infected approximately two billion people and 350 million suffer chronically, causing an estimated 600,000 deaths per year. The disease is most prevalent in Asia and the Pacific islands, accounting for 78 percent of those chronically infected in the world. The highly infectious virus spreads through childbirth, blood transfusions and sexual transmission.
In the Tibetans’ case, it’s most often transmitted through birth. Some who contract the disease cannot completely fight it off, leading to an increased risk of liver damage, cirrhosis of the liver and liver cancer. Though for many, including most of the refugees, the disease lies dormant, allowing them to conduct relatively normal lives.
Signaling the end of the day, the refugee camp’s driver pulls up in his dust-caked jeep designed for the rough Ladakhi terrain. Rasof and the all-women medical team pile into the vehicle to get a lift back to the main clinic. The jeep drives past a large metal sign that says, “IMMUNIZE. Miss not a single child” before stopping at a slightly larger, better maintained clinic.