“It's been 21 years since the last time a doctor came here,” says Joâo, one of the elders of Tchuila, Angola, while his eyes fix on the bustle of the people setting up the mobile clinic. “The last mobile clinic team came to Tchuila was more than two decades ago and then... oblivion.”

“Later, only on a few occasions, some motorcycles arrived from distant health posts with vaccines,” Joâo. “They came during the weekdays when the children are in the fields cultivating with their parents. It has been many years of waiting.”

Trying to bring attention and action to people’s need for healthcare, a year ago, the soba – the highest authority of this town in the municipality of Cuvango – confiscated a blue vaccine transport box for seven days.

“I won't return it until someone comes to Tchuila to give medical care,” the soba had said.

The box was left empty and guarded, a witness to the passing of time. When, at the end of January, nurse Nai told me we needed to go to do a mobile clinic in Tchuila, I looked at the map and had many questions. As we usually do at MSF, the next day I took the car and started a long journey of about seven hours to find out more.

The population of Tchuila has grown to over 7,000 people. Some time ago, the authorities decided they wanted to open a small healthcare centre. This was the first step in communicating with the community about the healthcare they could soon bring, first through mobile clinics and later by constructing a facility.

After four hours on the road, we reached the first bridge, a precarious piece of infrastructure that, more than connecting, isolates the town of Tchuila and many others. As we crossed it, the rear wheel of our car got wedged between two logs.

França, our driver, who has been working with MSF since 2002 in different responses, and his counterpart from the Ministry of Health, worked with patience to get the car out of the ground, something they managed to do an hour later.

When we finally arrived at Tchuila, we introduced ourselves and asked the soba for permission to return in two weeks, together with Ministry of Health personnel, to provide medical care. That same Tuesday it became clear to me we would not be able to return and do the mobile clinic on Thursday as we had originally planned. Logistical and medical preparation required more time.

When we returned to the town later, children, pregnant women and other patients walked the circuit of the clinic we set up in a small church that has a hole in the roof. After 21 years, the dream was being fulfilled.

We witnessed what can be achieved when you support your Angolan colleagues in the task of looking at people in the eyes, listening to their health concerns and sharing what you have: some relief for pain, an antimalarial medication, a vaccine or a mosquito net. In fact, it is much more than that. It is like saying to people who say they feel forgotten: “You are not alone. We are here”.

A week after this, one of the soba's nephews found an explosive device on the riverbank and brought it to his uncle's house. Once there, the explosive detonated accidentally and four people died, among them the young sons of the village chief. Another six wounded were transferred first to the Cuvango municipal hospital and then to the provincial capital, where MSF is based. A sad reminder that the aftermath of war lingers long after violence ends.