Subcontractor = subhuman?

A few days ago, I was amusing myself by mentally picturing how funny it would be if we went to war with Romania. There are a number of Romanians still "fighting" in Iraq (the quotes are due to my belief that they really don't attack much other than the chow hall). Now, I definitely respect their resolve to continue helping with the mission here. However, I just cannot help but to smirk to myself every time I see them. "Rag-tag outfit" would certainly be a fitting euphemism. Several weeks ago, I was working in their camp, "Dracula" (a name which I find hilarious, and if you need this explained, you should read a geography and history book). One of the units at Camp Dracula was preparing to head home and attempting to practice for their homecoming parade. Apparently the parade would require them to perform some pretty highly-skilled and technically-advanced maneuvers, such as MARCHING. Watching these characters "march" was the equivalent of watching a flock of blind sheep wander through a field, with perhaps only a hint of purpose. The ability to perform close-order drill, or march in unison, is one of the fundamental necessities of a military unit in that it builds unit cohesion and reinforces the concept of fighters and leaders. I am not trying to make fun of these guys, only to describe how funny they appeared to me. It was the combination of their complete inability to march fluidly and in anything that remotely resembles unison, their out of shape, portly bodies, and the fact that none of them seem to be carrying the same type of weapon (it's as if they each brought the family shotgun from home), that made the thought of America going to war with them so entertaining to me. However.......
One of my Nepali workers has been complaining of a toothache for some time now. There really isn't anything I can do for him, as subcontractors are obviously subhuman and don't require square meals nor proper medical care. I watched his condition quickly grow worse- and I mean "watched". Over the course of only a few days, his condition grew from "Mr, much pain, much pain" to him looking like he was holding a couple of ping pong balls in his right cheek. I frequently asked him about the treatment he was receiving at his subcontractor compound, and I was constantly told that he was given ibuprofen. Ibuprofen, for swelling bigger than a ping pong ball. Now, it doesn't take a dentist to know that he probably had an abscess and that he needed something more than a non-steroidal anti-imflammatory drug. An abscess, besides being obviously painful, can become very dangerous, very quickly. It is caused by something- baceteria. Ibuprofen only relieves symptoms- this is common knowledge-it doesn't kill bacteria. After watching this for a few days, I was absolutely furious. I had no other choice than to break the rules and take him to get help. I mean seriously- how can people be so indifferent, so apathetic, when other peple are in obvious pain? If I didn't do something, he would either die from choking or septic shock. The only dentist I know of who would be willing to help someone out, discreetly, was the Romanian dentist. And she did. She cared that this person, not this subcontractor, was in pain and needed help. The drive back from the Romanian camp was absolutely crazy. About 10 seconds after we climbed into the van, the incoming sirens began screaming. I knew what that meant: rockets. Sure enough, rockets began raining down on the base. So I'm driving like a bat out of hell with a Nepali dude in my front seat, his mouth filled with cotton, dodging mortars and rockets, thinking "What a way to go out...I'm going to take a rocket dead center in this van and they're going to find the charred remains of me and some random Nepali worker. They'll think I was trying to smuggle him off base or something. Alas, we made it back to my camp unharmed and my Nepali friend slipped back into his work crew without notice.
 I really can't say enough good things about the Romanians now, though I still think my imaginary war would be funny. Maybe we could use paintballs.
In proofreading this, I see that it could appear that I'm trying to make myself out to be a "saint" for helping this guy out. I am not. I'm just really, really pissed off at how these subcontractors, these "third country nationals", are treated. They are underfed and malnourished (rice for every meal, occasionally chicken with rice), underpaid, and treated worse than the garbage they pick up and sort. They are not treated like human beings and that is an understatement. It really, really pisses me off- and they do the actual work around here.