Why I train grandmothers to treat depression Dixon Chibanda
On a warm August morning in Harare,
Farai,
a 24-year-old mother of two,
walks towards a park bench.
She looks miserable and dejected.
Now, on the park bench
sits an 82-year-old woman,
better known to the community
as Grandmother Jack.
Farai hands Grandmother Jack
an envelope from the clinic nurse.
Grandmother Jack invites Farai to sit down
as she opens the envelope and reads.
There’s silence for three minutes
or so as she reads.
And after a long pause,
Grandmother Jack takes a deep breath,
looks at Farai and says,
“I’m here for you.
Would you like to share
your story with me?”
Farai begins,
her eyes swelling with tears.
She says, “Grandmother Jack,
I’m HIV-positive.
I’ve been living with HIV
for the past four years.
My husband left me a year ago.
I have two kids
under the age of five.
I’m unemployed.
I can hardly take care of my children.”
Tears are now flowing down her face.
And in response,
Grandmother Jack moves closer,
puts her hand on Farai,
and says, “Farai, it’s OK to cry.
You’ve been through a lot.
Would you like to share more with me?”
And Farai continues.
“In the last three weeks,
I have had recurrent thoughts
of killing myself,
taking my two children with me.
I can’t take it anymore.
The clinic nurse sent me to see you.”
There’s an exchange between the two,
which lasts about 30 minutes.
And finally, Grandmother Jack says,
“Farai,
it seems to me that you have
all the symptoms of kufungisisa.”
The word “kufungisisa”
opens up a floodgate of tears.
So, kufungisisa is the local
equivalent of depression
in my country.
It literally means
“thinking too much.”
The World Health Organization estimates
that more than 300 million people
globally, today, suffer from depression,
or what in my country
we call kufungisisa.
And the World Health
Organization also tells us
that every 40 seconds,
someone somewhere in the world
commits suicide
because they are unhappy,
largely due to depression or kufungisisa.
And most of these deaths are occurring
in low- and middle-income countries.
In fact,
the World Health Organization
goes as far as to say
that when you look at the age group
between 15 to 29,
a leading cause of death
now is actually suicide.
But there are wider events
that lead to depression
and in some cases, suicide,
such as abuse,
conflict, violence,
isolation, loneliness –
the list is endless.
But one thing that we do know
is that depression can be treated
and suicides averted.
But the problem is
we just don’t have enough psychiatrists
or psychologists in the world
to do the job.
In most low- and middle-income
countries, for instance,
the ratio of psychiatrists
to the population
is something like one for every
one and a half million people,
which literally means
that 90 percent of the people
needing mental health services
will not get it.
In my country,
there are 12 psychiatrists,
and I’m one of them,
for a population
of approximately 14 million.
Now, let me just put that into context.
One evening while I was at home,
I get a call from the ER,
or the emergency room,
from a city which is some
200 kilometers away
from where I live.
And the ER doctor says,
“One of your patients,
someone you treated four months ago,
has just taken an overdose,
and they are in the ER department.
Hemodynamically, they seem to be OK,
but they will need
neuropsychiatric evaluation.”
Now, I obviously can’t get into my car
in the middle of the night
and drive 200 kilometers.
So as best as we could,
over the phone with the ER doctor,
we come up with an assessment.
We ensure that suicidal
observations are in place.
We ensure that we start reviewing
the antidepressants
that this patient has been taking,
and we finally conclude
that as soon as Erica –
that was her name, 26-year-old –
as soon as Erica is ready
to be released from the ER,
she should come
directly to me with her mother,
and I will evaluate
and establish what can be done.
And we assumed that that would
take about a week.
A week passes.
Three weeks pass.
No Erica.
And one day I get a call
from Erica’s mother,
and she says,
“Erica committed suicide three days ago.
She hanged herself from the mango tree
in the family garden.”
Now, almost like a knee-jerk reaction,
I couldn’t help but ask,
“But why didn’t you come
to Harare, where I live?
We had agreed that as soon
as you’re released from the ER,
you will come to me.”
Her response was brief.
“We didn’t have the 15 dollars bus fare
to come to Harare.”
Now, suicide is not an unusual event
in the world of mental health.
But there was something
about Erica’s death
that struck me at the core
of my very being.
That statement from Erica’s mother:
“We didn’t have 15 dollars bus fare
to come to you,”
made me realize
that it just wasn’t going to work,
me expecting people to come to me.
And I got into this state
of soul-searching,
trying to really discover my role
as a psychiatrist in Africa.
And after considerable consultation
and soul-searching,
talking to colleagues, friends and family,
it suddenly dawned on me
that actually, one the most reliable
resources we have in Africa
are grandmothers.
Yes, grandmothers.
And I thought,
grandmothers are in every community.
There are hundreds of them.
And –
(Laughter)
And they don’t leave their communities
in search of greener pastures.
(Laughter)
See, the only time they leave
is when they go to a greener
pasture called heaven.
(Laughter)
So I thought, how about
training grandmothers
in evidence-based talk therapy,
which they can deliver on a bench?
Empower them with the skills to listen,
to show empathy,
all of that rooted
in cognitive behavioral therapy;
empower them with the skills
to provide behavior activation,
activity scheduling;
and support them using digital technology.
You know, mobile phone technology.
Pretty much everyone in Africa
has a mobile phone today.
So in 2006,
I started my first group
of grandmothers.
(Applause)
Thank you.
(Applause)
Today, there are hundreds of grandmothers
who are working
in more than 70 communities.
And in the last year alone,
more than 30,000 people received treatment
on the Friendship Bench
from a grandmother
in a community in Zimbabwe.
(Applause)
And recently, we published this work
that is done by these grandmothers
in the Journal of the American
Medical Association.
And –
(Applause)
And our results show
that six months after receiving treatment
from a grandmother,
people were still symptom-free:
no depression,
suicidal ideation completely reduced.
In fact, our results –
this was a clinical trial –
in fact, this clinical trial showed
that grandmothers were more effective
at treating depression
than doctors and –
(Laughter)
(Applause)
And so,
we’re now working towards
expanding this program.
There are more than 600 million people
currently aged above 65 in the world.
And by the year 2050,
there will be 1.5 billion people
aged 65 and above.
Imagine if we could create
a global network of grandmothers
in every major city in the world,
who are trained
in evidence-based talk therapy,
supported through digital platforms,
networked.
And they will make a difference
in communities.
They will reduce the treatment gap
for mental, neurological
and substance-use disorders.
Finally,
this is a file photograph
of Grandmother Jack.
So, Farai had six sessions on the bench
with Grandmother Jack.
Today, Farai is employed.
She has her two children at school.
And as for Grandmother Jack,
one morning in February, we expected her
to see her 257th client on the bench.
She didn’t show up.
She had gone to a greener
pasture called heaven.
But I believe that Grandmother Jack,
from up there,
she’s cheering on
all the other grandmothers –
the increasing number of grandmothers
who are making a difference
in the lives of thousands of people.
And I’m sure she’s in awe
when she realizes that something
that she helped to pioneer
is now spreading to other countries,
like Malawi,
the island of Zanzibar
and coming closer to home
here in the Unites States
in the city of New York.
May her soul rest in peace.
Thank you.
(Applause)
(Cheering)
(Applause)