"Look at the forklifts!" I call in amazement. My fellow team members smile tolerantly before ambling away with our host, Atamalang Kgosiemang, principal pharmacist and director of the central medical store (CMS) in Gaborone, Botswana. Besides myself, the team includes Heather Lauver and Lebogang Taunyane from Pfizer, and Bruce Lawson, a video producer from South Africa. We are scouting locations for an inventory management training video to be used with Pfizer's donation program for Diflucan, a drug that treats opportunistic fungal infections in HIV and AIDS patients.

Tracked forklifts at the Central Medical Store in Gabarone, Botswana.

I'd assumed that Botswana, with one of the world's highest HIV prevalence rates, would be a picture of dire poverty, typical of resource-poor sub-Saharan Africa. I'd expected this CMS to be too small, with a leaking roof and soggy cardboard cartons spilling their contents of expired drugs into unkempt heaps. So I'm not prepared for this: a clean warehouse the size of a football field, where forklifts travel along rail tracks between towering shelves stocked with medical supplies in bar-coded boxes. The security system has closed-circuit video cameras, badge scanners, and double lock redundancy. There's even shrink-wrapping for pallets ready for delivery.

I never thought I'd get this excited over a warehouse. "Get a shot of those fire doors!" I say, pointing out features I want Bruce to photograph for our video story board.

Botswana was chosen for filming the video because it was a roll-out country for Pfizer's Diflucan Partnership Programme, launched in 1999. An underdeveloped country, Botawana was to provide images of supply chain facilities and workers that African viewers would recognize as typical. However, I'm discovering an Africa that most people don't see on the evening news or read about in development reports.

The government built this CMS using its own resources in 1997. And Princess Marina Hospital is lovely and well supplied, with a highly trained, dedicated staff. Much of Gaborone is equally developed. With fancy shops, good restaurants and resorts, Gabi is a very nice place to visit. But the video's viewers, mostly pharmacists, pharmacy technicians, and storekeepers who manage the supplies of Diflucan, work in settings far less developed than this. They must identify with the images they see in the video, in order to respond to its messages.

Our next stop, 65 kilometers south, is more promising: the Lobatse District Hospital. Chief Medical Officer Dr. Mohammed shows us around. The main building dates from colonial times. The facilities are clean, yet the impression is modest. The pharmacy is well stocked, albeit small and a bit untidy. A padlocked wooden box holds highly desired drugs like Diflucan. We like this location, and Dr. Mohammed agrees to talk on camera about the opportunistic infections that Diflucan can treat.

As we tour the hospital grounds, I ask Dr. Mohammed whether he thinks any of his patients would be willing to provide testimonials. He says some people may be interested, but then he turns serious. He wonders which patients will be alive when Bruce and the film crew return in two months. While antiretroviral treatment programs are available in Gaborone, Lobatse was not chosen for the first phase. Dr. Mohammed's patients may die, even though treatment is available just up the road.

On our tour we see an incinerator where we can film the disposal of expired drugs. Using this cautionary scene, the video will encourage pharmacists to order only what they need, and to use supplies with the earliest expiration dates first.

We say our 'thank you' and climb into our van, pleased to have found locations and a host so perfect for our project, yet saddened. Lobatse represents thousands of clinics, small hospitals, and people in Africa who struggle to meet overwhelming need with whatever care they can provide.

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