News / National
Gold fever in Binga
18 hrs ago |
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In the remote Mlibizi area of Binga District, the promise of gold is colliding with a quiet but persistent public health crisis. At the Siansundu Rural Health Centre, nurse-in-charge Gideon Muzamba flips through patient registers filled with familiar names, week after week, month after month. Gonorrhoea, syphilis, chlamydia—treated, cured, and then returning in a relentless cycle.
"We treat someone today, and after a month or two, they are back. The name is familiar. The infection is familiar. Only the date has changed," Muzamba says, his voice a mix of fatigue and determination.
Outside the clinic, artisanal miners—known locally as makorokoza—dig shallow pits, chase veins of gold, and bring cash into an economy where money moves faster than health education. The influx of cash, Muzamba explains, fuels risky sexual behaviour. Miners celebrate their earnings with multiple sexual partners, often spreading infections to spouses and partners back home.
The clinic records, which show eight to ten new STI cases each month, are only a fraction of the problem. They represent the visible cases in a network of transmission that silently extends through households and relationships before ever reaching medical attention.
Treatment at the clinic is straightforward and effective. Yet the revolving door of reinfections underscores a deeper challenge: behaviour change. Consistent condom use, limiting sexual partners, and partner notification—the simultaneous treatment of all involved—remain elusive in Mlibizi. Social stigma, fear of domestic conflict, and entrenched gender dynamics mean infections circulate silently. A miner may be cured today, only to return to the same risky practices after the next payout.
Health workers like Muzamba are trying to fight back with more than medicine. Outreach programs, community dialogues, and individual counselling aim to break the cycle. Local leaders emphasise the need for a collective response. "We need to talk to these young men not just as patients, but as sons, as husbands. And we need to find ways for this wealth to build health, not destroy it," said one community elder.
Suggestions include incorporating health and rights education into informal mining cooperatives, deploying mobile clinics to reach miners directly, and destigmatising sexual health discussions through village meetings and churches. Muzamba advocates for a multi-pronged approach: community involvement, economic empowerment for women to reduce dependency, peer education among miners, and sustained health campaigns to shift behaviour.
As picks and shovels continue to echo across the landscape, the community faces a stark question: can the pursuit of wealth coexist with the preservation of health? In Mlibizi, the fever for gold is powerful—but the cost to the community's well-being is proving just as relentless.
"We treat someone today, and after a month or two, they are back. The name is familiar. The infection is familiar. Only the date has changed," Muzamba says, his voice a mix of fatigue and determination.
Outside the clinic, artisanal miners—known locally as makorokoza—dig shallow pits, chase veins of gold, and bring cash into an economy where money moves faster than health education. The influx of cash, Muzamba explains, fuels risky sexual behaviour. Miners celebrate their earnings with multiple sexual partners, often spreading infections to spouses and partners back home.
The clinic records, which show eight to ten new STI cases each month, are only a fraction of the problem. They represent the visible cases in a network of transmission that silently extends through households and relationships before ever reaching medical attention.
Treatment at the clinic is straightforward and effective. Yet the revolving door of reinfections underscores a deeper challenge: behaviour change. Consistent condom use, limiting sexual partners, and partner notification—the simultaneous treatment of all involved—remain elusive in Mlibizi. Social stigma, fear of domestic conflict, and entrenched gender dynamics mean infections circulate silently. A miner may be cured today, only to return to the same risky practices after the next payout.
Health workers like Muzamba are trying to fight back with more than medicine. Outreach programs, community dialogues, and individual counselling aim to break the cycle. Local leaders emphasise the need for a collective response. "We need to talk to these young men not just as patients, but as sons, as husbands. And we need to find ways for this wealth to build health, not destroy it," said one community elder.
Suggestions include incorporating health and rights education into informal mining cooperatives, deploying mobile clinics to reach miners directly, and destigmatising sexual health discussions through village meetings and churches. Muzamba advocates for a multi-pronged approach: community involvement, economic empowerment for women to reduce dependency, peer education among miners, and sustained health campaigns to shift behaviour.
As picks and shovels continue to echo across the landscape, the community faces a stark question: can the pursuit of wealth coexist with the preservation of health? In Mlibizi, the fever for gold is powerful—but the cost to the community's well-being is proving just as relentless.
Source - The Herald
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