Latest news with #Sherif
West Australian
2 days ago
- West Australian
Hiking through Egypt's white desert
'No, really, I can't take them,' I insist, laughing, a little embarrassed. Mahmoud just smiles, already peeling the camel-wool socks off his feet and holding them out like an offering. I shift my gaze from his to Sherif's, a stranger just days ago turned into someone I now call a dear friend. That's what the quiet magic of the White Desert does — knits together hearts that have only just met, weaving their stories into one. 'Is it rude if I say 'no'?' I ask Sherif desperately, knowing Mahmoud can't understand my English. 'I feel awful literally taking the socks off his feet, but I don't want to offend.' Sherif only nods. I sigh, once again in awe at the generosity and kindness of the Bedouin culture and gratefully accept the beige hand-woven socks, which I'd complimented in passing moments earlier. Mahmoud smiles shyly before walking away, the soft sand sifting between his toes with each hushed step. It's been four days since me and a group of 14 travellers began our week-long hike through the White Desert. After the sensory overload of Cairo, the contrast of this vast silent expanse was unsettling. But its impossible emptiness quickly became intoxicating. You can breathe deeper and think slower here. Nothing demands your attention except the unearthly landscape stretching endlessly around you — kilometres of chalky, pale ground, textured like the surface of an alien moon crunching softly underfoot. Somehow, this bunch of strangers from all walks of life has become something like family over this journey. I think back to our first evening together, how we walked side by side, asking careful questions of one another as the sun began to dip, painting the sky like a slow-moving kaleidoscope. A few days later and we're arm in arm, laughing like people who've known each other for years. There's something about hiking in the desert — the gentle monotony of each step — that strips things down to their essence. You ask less about what someone does back home and more about who they are at their core. And in turn, you let yourself be more open than you ever thought you would with people whose names you only just learned. Keeping watch over us as we pass through chalk-white canyons are towering limestone formations, silent sentinels jutting out of the ground like frozen waves — their stark contrast with the deep blue sky like something out of a dream. We escape the midday sun under one of these ghost-like sculptures, crouched inside a naturally formed cave as we savour the smoky and smooth flavours of homemade baba ghanoush, spread across pillowy flatbread still warm from the Bedouins' fire. Finding yourself among these ghostly white sculptures, shaped by millennia of wind and sand, is truly humbling. As is the near-constant ache in my calves from hours spent traversing the endless sea of soft pale sand. 'I can give you a massage,' one of our guides, Ibrahim, offers after arriving at our camp for the night. His English is far better than his peers', but his hospitality is just as far-reaching. I politely decline, my priorities with the steaming hot cup of karkade warming my hands. The fire flickers nearby, painting us in gold and shadow underneath an endless ceiling of stars. As the sheer silence of the desert wraps around us, and the cold night air begins to bite, my feet thaw slowly, toasting in thick woolly socks.
Al Jazeera
03-05-2025
- Politics
- Al Jazeera
The Ethiopian bookbinder connecting a city's people with its forgotten past
Harar, Ethiopia – When Abdallah Ali Sherif was growing up in eastern Ethiopia, his parents never spoke about the history of his city. 'When I asked my parents about our history, they told me we didn't have one,' the kind-faced 75-year-old recalls as he reclines on a thin mattress on the floor of his home in Harar's old walled city. Shelves of dusty cassettes line the walls and old newspapers lie scattered about the floor. The father of five and grandfather of 17 pauses to pluck some khat leaves to chew as he explains: 'Our parents were afraid to teach us about our culture or our history.' For centuries, Harar, with its colourful clay houses and narrow cobblestone streets, was a centre of Islamic scholarship and home to a thriving manuscript culture producing Qurans, legal texts and prayer books in Arabic and Ajami, a modified Arabic script used to write Indigenous African languages. Nestled atop a plateau that overlooks deserts and savannas linking the coastal lowlands and central highlands of Ethiopia and Somalia, in the 16th century, Harar became the capital of the Adal Sultanate, which at its height controlled large parts of modern-day Somalia, Ethiopia, Djibouti, and Eritrea. Governed by powerful Muslim rulers, it was situated along trade routes that traversed the Red Sea to connect the Horn of Africa to the Arabian Peninsula and beyond. Then, in 1887, Harar's military was defeated by the forces of Menelik II, and the city was forcefully absorbed into a Christian empire. The following decades were shaped by state repression, social discrimination and the erosion of the city's Islamic culture and institutions. Arabic street signs were replaced with Amharic ones, Harar's largest mosque was turned into an Ethiopian Orthodox Church and numerous Islamic educational centres were demolished. Severe restrictions were placed on religious practices and education – once a central part of Harar's identity. It was against this backdrop that Sherif grew up. 'We learned from a young age that if we expressed our culture or talked openly about our history, then we could end up in the prisons,' he explains, smacking his wrists together to mimic handcuffs. Then, in 1991, ethnic federalism, which organised and defined federated regional states by ethnicity, was implemented throughout the country, allowing newfound religious and cultural freedom. The Harari people now belonged to the Harari region, with Harar as its capital. Ever since, Sherif has been on a mission: To explore his city's cultural identity by collecting artefacts, from old music cassettes to minted coins and, most importantly, manuscripts. After years of painstaking searches going from household to household, he collected enough items to open Ethiopia's first private museum, Abdallah Sherif Museum, 14 years ago in the hope of reconnecting Harar's people with their history. The collection of hundreds of old manuscripts has become a particular passion. 'Each book I find, it feels like I am peeking through a window into a beautiful and rich culture that was almost forgotten,' he says. To preserve these manuscripts, Sherif has also revitalised the ancient tradition of bookbinding. By tracing the last Hararis with knowledge of this art form, he has brought a once-extinct practice back to life. The production of manuscripts – as a way of sharing and safeguarding religious knowledge – was an important aspect of Harar's culture, says Nuraddin Aman, an assistant professor of philology at Addis Ababa University. Manuscript making is believed to have emerged in the city in the 13th century, when an Islamic scholar, known colloquially as Sheikh Abadir, is said to have come from what is today Saudi Arabia and settled in the area with about 400 followers. According to Sana Mirza, a researcher at the Institute of Fine Arts at New York University who specialises in Islamic art, Harari scripts were influenced by Indian Gujarati, Yemeni, and Egyptian Mamluki styles. 'The Indo-African relationship was very deep,' explains Ahmed Zekaria, an expert in Islamic and Harari history. 'There was a strong linkage between India and Africa for centuries before the British arrived.' Some Qurans found in Harar use a unique cursive calligraphic script said to have been developed in India's northern Bihar region at about the 14th century and rarely seen outside India. Manuscript makers developed their own style that merged local creativity and outside influences. Within families, manuscripts were considered sacred heirlooms passed down through generations. Each Harari house had at least two or three manuscripts – often, the Quran, Hadiths, or other religious texts – Zekaria says. According to Aman, the structured production of manuscripts made the city unique. Artisans were required to get permission from a local Islamic scholar – someone descended from Sheikh Abadir or one of his followers – to produce each religious manuscript. Then, before circulation, they needed approval from the incumbent emir. Still, full-time scribes were rare. 'Most of them were farmers and produced manuscripts in their free time,' says Zekaria. Harar also grew into a centre for bookbinding with artisans making leather covers to protect manuscripts, and people travelling to the city to learn the craft. When Harar was absorbed into the Ethiopian empire, education centres, once responsible for manuscript production, were shut down or destroyed. Without new manuscripts, bookbinding disappeared. Meanwhile, madrasas (religious schools) were shuttered, and children were forced to attend government schools teaching only Amharic. Sherif was born into a middle-class Muslim family in 1950. He grew up during the reign of Emperor Haile Selassie, who ruled Ethiopia from 1930 to 1974 and under whom repression of Muslims escalated. In the 1940s, Harari elites united with their Somali neighbours inside Ethiopia to organise a rebellion, advocating for Harar to join Somalia. When Selassie caught wind of this, he deployed thousands of soldiers into Harar. Mass arrests followed, leading to dozens of Hararis being imprisoned for years without charge or trial. Selassie's forces confiscated the properties and belongings – including cherished manuscripts – of residents believed to be rebellion supporters. An estimated 10,000 Hararis fled to other Ethiopian cities or Somalia and Middle Eastern countries. While Sherif says he grew up knowing he was Harari, he did not know what that meant outside of being Muslim and speaking the Harari language. Fearing state repression, Harari families were forced to hide their histories from their children. But as a teenager, Sherif could no longer suppress his curiosity about his identity. In high school, he remembers asking his teacher if the city ever had Muslim leaders. 'The teacher responded that we had no leaders outside the Ethiopian Christian ones. After this, the other [Christian] students began teasing me about not having a history,' he recounts. 'I was taught that Haile Selassie was our king, and there was one country, one history, one language, and one culture,' he continues. 'Our community was too afraid of the state to challenge this or to teach us about our real history. They feared we would become angry over it and fight against the state.' In 1974, when Sherif was in his 20s, the Derg, a Marxist-Leninist military group, overthrew Selassie. The group brutally suppressed any opposition. Half a million Ethiopians were killed and thousands were crippled as a result of torture. When the 1977-1978 Ogaden War broke out, with Somalia attempting to annex Ethiopia's Ogaden region that is inhabited by ethnic Somalis, the Derg accused Hararis of collaborating and carried out massacres of civilians in Harari neighbourhoods of Addis Ababa. In their region, Hararis were still the land-owning class, and many were completely dispossessed of their livelihoods as the Derg sought to eradicate private land ownership. Harari youth – like young men from all communities – were forcibly conscripted into the army. When an anti-Derg resistance movement emerged in Harar, the repression increased, while more Hararis moved abroad to escape it. Today, Hararis are a minority in their region, with more living abroad than in Harari. Like many Harari families, when Sherif graduated from high school, his parents began educating him on who he really was. He was bewildered to discover that what he'd been taught in school was a lie. 'My whole life, I have suffered from a severe identity crisis,' says Sherif, sighing loudly and tossing a leafless khat stalk to the side. 'I have always felt like there were pieces of myself that were missing – and I couldn't feel peace until I found them.' After high school, Sherif began a science degree in Addis Ababa, but dropped out within a year when he found out the woman he loved, who was his then-girlfriend, was being forced by her family to marry another man in Harar. 'There was nothing in my life more important to me than her,' he says, with a wide, bashful smile. He returned home to marry this woman, Saeda Towfiqe – today his most enthusiastic supporter – and began working in the family business. It wasn't until 1991, when the Ethiopian People's Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), led by the Tigray People's Liberation Front (TPLF), overthrew the Derg and implemented a system of ethnic federalism designed to promote minority ethnic and religious rights, that Hararis, along with various other groups, suddenly found themselves with the freedom to develop and express their cultures and histories. 'I became mad to understand my history,' explains Sherif, the tone of his speech rising sharply as he smacks his head. 'I really became mad.' Taking advantage of this opening, Sherif began collecting hundreds of old cassettes of traditional Harari music. But he quickly realised that the history he sought existed in the old manuscripts still owned by many families in Harar. Through these religious and legal manuscripts, Sherif was able to glimpse the rich intellectual life of his ancestors. 'Each manuscript I found added a missing piece to a puzzle,' he explains. Over centuries, families had developed a practice of conserving and transmitting manuscripts to the next generation, Aman explains. Manuscripts were inherited or given at significant life events, such as weddings, the birth of a child, or during religious ceremonies. Scholars and religious leaders also gave them to students as a token of appreciation, 'thereby fostering an environment of knowledge sharing and manuscript mobility', says Aman. People kept the manuscripts wrapped in cloth and would only uncover them on special occasions. At first, Sherif, who was 40 when he began his project, purchased the manuscripts. 'Eventually, when the community saw the importance of what I was doing for our heritage, they started donating manuscripts and other artefacts to me.' But Sherif found that the covers and bindings of many manuscripts he acquired were in disarray. The last bookbinder in Harar was Kabir Ali Sheikh, a local Quran teacher who learned the craft from elders and kept the tradition alive until his death in 1993. The ancient art of Harari bookbinding died with him. But Sherif was able to learn the traditional process from a few of Ali's former students. He also went to train in Addis Ababa and Morocco. 'If you don't bind the books, then you will lose them,' Sherif says. 'Collecting manuscripts is useless if you do not also work on their restoration and preservation. If you lose just one page, you can lose the whole book. Beautiful things need to be protected and covered.' It took Sherif two years of practice to perfect the art. He is now considered one of the best bookbinders in Africa, Zekaria says. Sherif has strictly adhered to the traditional Harari way of bookbinding by using old ornamental stamps retrieved from around Harar – which are also displayed at his museum – to block-press motifs onto the front and back of covers, in the same way his ancestors did. In 1998, Sherif opened his private museum in his house. But, in 2007, a year after Harar's old town with its unique architecture was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the regional government provided Sherif with the double-storey former residence of Ras Makonnen Wolde Mikael, the father of Selassie who served as governor of Harar under Menelik II, to use for his museum. The museum reopened to the public in 2011. Sherif's museum now houses the world's largest collection of Islamic manuscripts from Harar, numbering about 1,400. Almost half are Qurans, one of which is more than 1,000 years old. There are also more than 600 old music recordings, tools, swords, coins, and items of jewellery, basketry, and weaponry. Over time, Sherif's museum has transformed from a space showcasing Harar's cultural heritage to one actively revitalising it. In a side room of the museum is a manuscript conservation room with locally assembled tools and equipment for restoring manuscripts, with a particular focus on bookbinding. Scholars are still tracking down various manuscripts from Harar that are scattered around the world, Zekaria says. Most of them left with European travellers, especially in the 19th century, when colonialists were expanding into the Horn of Africa. Many of these manuscripts are preserved in Italy, France, Germany, and the United Kingdom. In the US, the Catholic University of America in Washington, DC alone has 215 manuscripts from Harar. In the meantime, Sherif continues to look after the manuscripts he acquires. 'When I first get a manuscript, I carefully clean it,' he explains. He removes dust and dirt, adds new pages to damaged manuscripts, and fills in the missing text. He covers the paper in transparent paper and has bound and digitised almost all the books. 'Each new piece of information I get about my history, it opens up a new world for me and I realise how far we still have to go to preserve our culture,' Sherif says. About a decade ago, Sherif began training dozens of youths around Harar in bookbinding and has also led training in neighbouring Somaliland. One of his students was Elias Bule, a soft-spoken 31-year-old, who was first hired as a security guard at Sherif's museum. After a few months, 'Sherif asked me if I wanted to learn the Indigenous way of bookbinding,' explains Bule, as he sorts through scattered pages of an old manuscript in the museum's conservation workshop. 'Of course, I accepted immediately.' Bule is now employed full-time at the museum, supporting Sherif's various endeavours and giving tours to visitors. 'I feel very happy that I can give this to the future generations,' Bule says, with a proud grin, gesturing at the papers on the table. 'With each manuscript that is bound, we are ensuring that knowledge is preserved and that our culture and heritage will continue to survive.'
Tahawul Tech
30-04-2025
- Business
- Tahawul Tech
'Their expertise and dedication have empowered our team to stay informed and agile'
Sherif Azzam, Business Unit Manager, Comstor -KSA, and Mohamed Hilmy – MEA Sales Director, IST Networks – KSA, discuss their key priorities for the upcoming year in addition to their usage of strategic collaboration solutions. What are the unique aspects of working with Comstor? Sherif: Comstor is uniquely positioned as a Cisco-only, value-added distributor, offering unmatched expertise, product knowledge, and tailored support for Cisco partners. Comstor provides bespoke sales and technical training, helping partners build competencies and maximize returns from Cisco's channel programs and incentives. The Comstor team goes above & beyond to help partners grow their business, strengthen expertise, seize emerging market opportunities, and secure a competitive advantage by leveraging Cisco's latest technologies and market strategies. Another unique advantage of working with Comstor is that partners get access to detailed data analytics to boost win rates, identify untapped markets, and enhance customer lifetime value. What are Comstor's key focus areas and priorities for growth in the upcoming year? Sherif: Being a Cisco exclusive distributor, Comstor's key focus areas and priorities remain fully aligned to Cisco's growth strategy. Comstor is prioritising cybersecurity as its top growth driver for the year. There is a lot of focus on supporting partners with continuous training, solution architecture, and marketing resources to address the increasing demand for robust, enterprise-grade cybersecurity. Networking also remains a core area, with continued investment in Cisco's switching, routing, mobility, and Meraki solutions. Comstor is showcasing cross-architecture innovations, such as Cisco Meraki, to drive digital transformation and collaboration for end-user businesses. Comstor will also continue leveraging its expertise across Cisco's entire collaboration portfolio, including solutions like Webex, Unified Communications Manager, Cloud Calling, and contact centre products. Overall, Comstor's strategy is cantered on empowering partners with exclusive enablement programs, flexible financing models, and tailored go-to-market strategies. This includes a strong focus on professional services, education, support, and supply chain management to help partners seize every opportunity and deliver value in key industry segments. Environmental and social responsibility are integral to Comstor's mission. The company is embedding sustainability into its operations and partner programs, aiming to create long-term value for both the organisation and the broader community. How has the partnership with Cisco enabled you to effectively meet the requirements of your customers? Mohamed: We firmly believe that an IT partner that dedicates time to understanding its customers and their unique requirements is better positioned to deliver tailored solutions, superior services, and exceptional user experiences. By leveraging Cisco's industry-leading products and services, which offer comprehensive end-to-end solutions for customer needs, our partnership with Cisco has empowered IST to assist numerous clients in achieving their business objectives and realising their value-driven goals. Q4: What are the key Cisco Collaboration Solutions that most in demand? Mohamed: There is a growing understanding among organisations to invest into high quality solutions and systems in order to have business continuity. Hence, there has been a big surge in requirements for Cisco's Collaboration Endpoints, Conferencing, Messaging, and other Hybrid workspace solutions. It is no wonder that the Cisco Webex solution is today trusted by 95% of Fortune 500 companies as it has all the features that support hybrid workspaces. Can you elaborate on how your strategic partnership with Comstor has facilitated the delivery of Cisco's latest Collaboration solutions to your customers? Mohamed: Comstor has proven to be an invaluable partner in our journey to deliver Cisco collaboration solutions in the Saudi market. Through our strategic alignment with Comstor, we have successfully established best practices that enhance our ability to meet customer needs effectively. This partnership has been instrumental in ensuring that we remain at the forefront of innovation and service excellence. The Comstor team has played a pivotal role in our success by providing consistent updates on Cisco's latest solutions and advancements. Their expertise and dedication have empowered our team to stay informed and agile in a rapidly evolving technological landscape, allowing us to offer cutting-edge solutions tailored to the unique demands of the Saudi market. Image Credit: Comstor & IST Networks
Time of India
23-04-2025
- Health
- Time of India
Trump cuts threaten free vaccine program for kids amid measles outbreak
London: Dr. Ali Sherif normally gives about 50 doses of the measles vaccine to children each month at his clinic in Hobbs, New Mexico, near the Texas state line. The number of shots at his clinic has surged about 25%, however, in recent weeks as local parents seek immunizations to protect their toddlers and school-age children from a growing measles outbreak that has infected more than 600 people and led to three deaths. Like thousands of other doctors across the country, Sherif relies on a little-known federal program to ensure he has those shots on hand for families at no cost to them. The Vaccines for Children program is funded by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and administered by state public health officials. With an annual budget of roughly $5 billion, the vaccines program is responsible for about half the jabs administered to U.S. children every year. The initiative funds vaccine purchases from drug manufacturers including Merck and GlaxoSmithKline at a discount, while state health departments implement the program and enroll medical providers. A dose of MMR vaccine costs about $26 under the program compared to $95 in the private sector, according to a CDC price list. But ongoing cuts in federal health funding and personnel could jeopardize the effectiveness of this longstanding program that's become a key cog in America's disease-fighting machinery, according to disease experts and former CDC officials. The Trump administration recently fired about 10,000 employees at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, including significant reductions at CDC that are part of a massive downsizing of the federal workforce. HHS has said another 10,000 left voluntarily. The CDC employees who staff the children's vaccine program were largely untouched, three sources familiar with the situation said. However, about 20 others were fired who comprised a unit that helped promote the program in communities at high risk of infectious disease, including during the current outbreak, these sources said. These employees helped bolster the confidence in the safety and effectiveness of vaccines, they said. At the same time, HHS canceled about $11 billion in COVID-related grants to state and local health departments that were used for a wide variety of vaccine-related clinics and outreach activities, including for measles. A federal judge has temporarily blocked the cuts in some states. Dr. David Sugerman, a senior scientist leading the CDC's measles response, highlighted COVID-19 funding cuts before a federal advisory panel last week. "We are scraping to find the resources and personnel needed to provide support to Texas, and other jurisdictions," he said. U.S. Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has overseen these significant reductions in force and budget after casting doubt on vaccine safety for years. During the current measles outbreak, he has promoted unproven treatments while giving a tepid endorsement of the measles, mumps and rubella vaccine. HHS and the White House did not respond to requests for comment, nor did GlaxoSmithKline. A Merck spokesman declined to comment. FREE SHOTS Congress created the Vaccines for Children program in 1993 after a U.S. measles epidemic had killed dozens of children a few years earlier. The CDC found that more than half of the children who got measles then were unvaccinated. The cost of the immunization was a primary reason families had skipped the shot even though they were seeing doctors regularly, according to the agency. At one large pediatric clinic in Albuquerque, manager Shawna Maestas said she orders about $100,000 worth of various vaccines each month through the federal program. "We've had quite a big uptick in vaccine administration lately," she said. "But if families had to pay for it, they would push it off." Over the past decade, Texas has administered 5.6 million doses of the MMR vaccine through the program, according to state data provided to Reuters. New Mexico has received nearly 364,000 doses of the MMR vaccine over the same time period, records show. A spokesman for the New Mexico health department said "vaccine supply and distribution have continued with no interruptions." Texas officials said on Tuesday that the state's measles outbreak had grown to 624 cases, including 64 who were hospitalized. Two unvaccinated children with no underlying health conditions have died in the state, including an 8-year-old girl who died earlier this month. New Mexico officials have tallied 65 cases and one death of an unvaccinated adult. These are the first deaths from measles in the United States since 2015. Dr. Alex Cvijanovich, a pediatrician in Albuquerque, said New Mexico has one of the nation's highest rates of childhood poverty and says she is terrified about what could happen if the children's vaccine program is scaled back. As a doctor in training more than 20 years ago, she cared for a teen boy who died from a degenerative neurological condition linked to his measles infection as an infant, when he was too young to be vaccinated. "There are really bad, scary things that we can protect our children from," she said. In Hobbs, New Mexico, Sherif says about 85% of his patients are on Medicaid, the federal and state health insurance program for low-income Americans. His clinic orders about $50,000 worth of measles, chickenpox and other vaccines per month through the program, he says, an amount of money impossible for his small clinic to afford if not covered by the federal program. "If I were to buy them by myself, I would not get enough for my patients," he said.
Time of India
23-04-2025
- Health
- Time of India
Trump cuts threaten free vaccine program for kids amid measles outbreak
Dr. Ali Sherif normally gives about 50 doses of the measles vaccine to children each month at his clinic in Hobbs, New Mexico, near the Texas state line. The number of shots at his clinic has surged about 25%, however, in recent weeks as local parents seek immunizations to protect their toddlers and school-age children from a growing measles outbreak that has infected more than 600 people and led to three deaths. Like thousands of other doctors across the country, Sherif relies on a little-known federal program to ensure he has those shots on hand for families at no cost to them. 5 5 Next Stay Playback speed 1x Normal Back 0.25x 0.5x 1x Normal 1.5x 2x 5 5 / Skip Ads by by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Shooter Action MMO Crossout Play Now Undo The Vaccines for Children program is funded by the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and administered by state public health officials. With an annual budget of roughly $5 billion, the vaccines program is responsible for about half the jabs administered to U.S. children every year. The initiative funds vaccine purchases from drug manufacturers including Merck and GlaxoSmithKline at a discount, while state health departments implement the program and enroll medical providers. A dose of MMR vaccine costs about $26 under the program compared to $95 in the private sector, according to a CDC price list. Live Events But ongoing cuts in federal health funding and personnel could jeopardize the effectiveness of this longstanding program that's become a key cog in America's disease-fighting machinery, according to disease experts and former CDC officials. The Trump administration recently fired about 10,000 employees at the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, including significant reductions at CDC that are part of a massive downsizing of the federal workforce. HHS has said another 10,000 left voluntarily. The CDC employees who staff the children's vaccine program were largely untouched, three sources familiar with the situation said. However, about 20 others were fired who comprised a unit that helped promote the program in communities at high risk of infectious disease, including during the current outbreak, these sources said. These employees helped bolster the confidence in the safety and effectiveness of vaccines, they said. At the same time, HHS canceled about $11 billion in COVID-related grants to state and local health departments that were used for a wide variety of vaccine-related clinics and outreach activities, including for measles. A federal judge has temporarily blocked the cuts in some states. Dr. David Sugerman, a senior scientist leading the CDC's measles response, highlighted COVID-19 funding cuts before a federal advisory panel last week. "We are scraping to find the resources and personnel needed to provide support to Texas, and other jurisdictions," he said. U.S. Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has overseen these significant reductions in force and budget after casting doubt on vaccine safety for years. During the current measles outbreak, he has promoted unproven treatments while giving a tepid endorsement of the measles, mumps and rubella vaccine. HHS and the White House did not respond to requests for comment, nor did GlaxoSmithKline. A Merck spokesman declined to comment. FREE SHOTS Congress created the Vaccines for Children program in 1993 after a U.S. measles epidemic had killed dozens of children a few years earlier. The CDC found that more than half of the children who got measles then were unvaccinated. The cost of the immunization was a primary reason families had skipped the shot even though they were seeing doctors regularly, according to the agency. At one large pediatric clinic in Albuquerque, manager Shawna Maestas said she orders about $100,000 worth of various vaccines each month through the federal program. "We've had quite a big uptick in vaccine administration lately," she said. "But if families had to pay for it, they would push it off." Over the past decade, Texas has administered 5.6 million doses of the MMR vaccine through the program, according to state data provided to Reuters. New Mexico has received nearly 364,000 doses of the MMR vaccine over the same time period, records show. A spokesman for the New Mexico health department said "vaccine supply and distribution have continued with no interruptions." Texas officials said on Tuesday that the state's measles outbreak had grown to 624 cases, including 64 who were hospitalized. Two unvaccinated children with no underlying health conditions have died in the state, including an 8-year-old girl who died earlier this month. New Mexico officials have tallied 65 cases and one death of an unvaccinated adult. These are the first deaths from measles in the United States since 2015. Dr. Alex Cvijanovich, a pediatrician in Albuquerque, said New Mexico has one of the nation's highest rates of childhood poverty and says she is terrified about what could happen if the children's vaccine program is scaled back. As a doctor in training more than 20 years ago, she cared for a teen boy who died from a degenerative neurological condition linked to his measles infection as an infant, when he was too young to be vaccinated. "There are really bad, scary things that we can protect our children from," she said. In Hobbs, New Mexico, Sherif says about 85% of his patients are on Medicaid, the federal and state health insurance program for low-income Americans. His clinic orders about $50,000 worth of measles, chickenpox and other vaccines per month through the program, he says, an amount of money impossible for his small clinic to afford if not covered by the federal program. "If I were to buy them by myself, I would not get enough for my patients," he said.
