Contact Admin. Swaddled between two arms of the river Nile, the delta is a place where everything seems to grow. Sunflowers line roads; shallots, bulbs as big as fists, sprout from the soil. Miles and miles of canals feed thick blankets of green.
Only a few hours north of Cairo, El Tod sits off a road that shifts from dust and sand to lush patches of vegetation. Camels stand tied to posts near produce carts and butcher shops where suspended animal carcasses hang outside like potted plants. News in this village is still passed from neighbor to neighbor -- and the people in each story are usually known to all. He leads me down a garbage-strewn alleyway, past kids playing, to the El Sayeeds' modest apartment.
A steady wail signals sundown -- a time to pray. On this particular evening, most of the El Sayeed family is crowded into one room waiting for me. Hamdy, the father, is present only in a framed picture on the wall. The year-old man lies in a hospital bed on the outskirts of Cairo.
His neighbors know why he isn't at home. They also know why Hamdy's cousin doesn't show up at his clothing store on some days -- probably feeling too weak -- and why yet another cousin, Hamed Zayed, stayed in El Tod instead of moving to Saudi Arabia as he had planned. The reason? Zayed did not pass the blood test required to work in Saudi Arabia. Like those of many others in town, his came back positive. Their medical records tell the story of another blood-borne pathogen -- the hepatitis C virus HCV -- which has its grip on this region and million to million people worldwide.
The virus is spread mainly by blood; everything from intravenous drug use to tattooing and body piercing is a common vehicle for transmission. Yet, perhaps because it is a benign companion for the majority of carriers, HCV has not received a great deal of attention as a major public health issue.
