So. I have malaria. And the sun is still shining.

Hey team, 

It’s been another doozy of a week, so I apologize for how long this is.  

Tuesday, I was on my way to the Nawansega Trading Center in the morning to visit Sam and Cody in Iganga. I was followed by what felt like the entire elementary school. It’s a good ten minute walk from my house to the end of the trading center where I can get a bike boda out to the main stage… and they stayed with me the whole time… a pack of sixty, seventy (or more) kids with me on all sides. At first I thought it was cute, and then when I saw the number growing I was a little annoyed, wanting them to get back to class… but by the time I got into the trading center and saw the faces of the parents, I couldn’t help but laugh. I swear, Bazungu in town means kids don’t do as well in school.  

In complete juxtaposition, the matatu ride to Iganga was one of the most uncomfortable yet (which is saying something… let me tell you 20 people in a matatu is uncomfortable). The one I hailed down was about half full and there were only men in it. Talk about awkward. They were making their usual jeering and jokes… and one even offered me his phone to but my number in. I responded with “Mbe, tienda.” (No, I don’t want.) The whole car laughed. Luckily, at about this time two older women piled into the taxi with us. I offered one a seat next to me, in between me and the men in the back, which she took. Figuring out what was going on pretty quickly, she gave the men a good talking to and was nice to me for the rest of the trip. Ah, what a blessing women are. Seriously, if I leave Uganda with any respect for men remaining, it will be a miracle.

After a bit of an adventure into town, I finally met up with Sam and Cody in Iganga, and walked them back to UVP headquarters.  Sam is working on his Masters’ Capstone, and wanted to meet with my NGO’s program manager. Seeing them was short, but priceless. I appreciated seeing familiar, friendly faces, sharing an inclusive vocabulary and listening to their experiences. I probably won’t see Sam again this summer, but I’m hoping to visit Cody in Kampala some weekend in July.

On Wednesday we continued with our house-to-house survey, watching the poverty increase and the facilities decrease with distance away from the trading center. I have a hard time seeing the malnourished children. Two or younger, they have swollen feet, large heads and skinny extremities, covered in flies, often sitting on the ground, neglected. But how can we blame the mothers when they’re only 18 or 19, already with three or four other mouths to feed? And who’s absent in all of these cases? The men. Most likely drinking at the trading center, or at their younger wife’s house… There are many polygamous families in the village, all three main religions being blamed for them. “Oh it must be x,y,z-religion that’s got all of those kids and two or three wives,” says each group about the other. I also find it interesting that the same families that are Catholic, Protestant or Muslim have these expensive shrines that they keep for local Gods. Many families will have a shrine instead of a latrine or a kitchen, or even more common, well fed children. Eva describes it the same way we were told about the Catholic Church in the middle ages. The people pay large amounts to some person or people to maintain these shrines with the promise that the Gods will bring them fortune or luck. And here they are, without luck or fortune, without a latrine or kitchen, without healthy kids, out of money. Yet they continue.

Wednesday night, I woke up feeling very sick, with sharp stomach pains, feeling very nauseous. I tossed and turned, sweating and with chills for hours before finally at about 4 or 5am when I was able to fall back asleep. 

Thursday morning, my stomach pains remained, but had subsided a little, and I continued morning activities with my team. At 1pm, when we normally leave to do ground work, I was ready to go, feeling nauseous, but needing to motivate my team to get moving. Within 10 minutes of walking, I had a full blown headache, was weak, lightheaded and dizzy, and couldn’t focus on our surveys. Two hours later, I felt as if I was going to pass out, and the team took me home to lie down for the rest of the afternoon. I felt awful. I called UVP, alerting them of my symptoms, and they called back saying they’d like to take me to the doctor for malaria testing on Friday morning. Awesome. I stayed in bed for the rest of the day.

Friday morning UVP picked me up in a daze and took me to a health clinic that would NEVER EVER pass environmental health standards in the States. It had exposed circuits, the roof was missing in some places, boards nailed up in others, it was pretty terrible, but TIA. (For those of you who are unfamiliar with this term, it means “This is Africa!”… still making up my mind on how I feel about it, but it’s starting to become a regular part of my vocabulary.) I refused to let them test me until I physically saw them open up the sterile needle from a closed package. They tested me and two other UVP interns who were also sick.

Guess who was the only one who tested positive. That’s right. Me. In the car ride on the way back, I could not help but laugh. My team and I have had one of the roughest beginnings we possibly could have had, everything all at the same time, and now here I am, sick with malaria. It was beginning to be funny. And also RIDICULOUS because I have been OCD about taking my malaria prophylaxis at the exact same time every day, putting on bug spray and wearing long sleeves/long pants at night, and tucking in my mosquito net! Somehow, I’m still covered in bites, and currently living with an additional parasite in my bloodstream. I HATE parasites!!! UGH!

Fortunately, on the scale of 1-10 that they use to measure concentration of parasite in your blood, 8 being “okay time for an IV of quinine directly into your bloodstream”, I came up as “scanty”. Meaning, the parasites are present, but not in high enough concentration to be a “1” yet. This is probably because my prophylaxis prevented me from getting a serious case. Thank goodness.

Actually, the culture around malaria here is really interesting. I’d compare it to that of the flu at home. The Ugandan interns all say they get it up to an average of 4 times per year, taking medicine and being done with it. A few of them have gotten serious cases, and are hospitalized with an IV. In general, it’s the immune-compromised, children under 5 and pregnant women, who are at serious risk and can die from it. But seriously, even a mild case sucks. I can’t imagine throwing in fever and vomiting. This headache alone is pretty awful. Ugh.

So yeah. Now I’m on this drug called Duo-cotecxin… and hopefully will be cured in a few days. I really want to go to Sipi Falls for some waterfall hikes next weekend, but if I’m still sick, I don’t know if I can go. Lame.

 I did want to quickly mention the best thing that happened this week. I intentionally left it for last. Of the kids that creep (I don’t mean ‘creep’ lightly, sometimes they hide in the trees or in the midst of the maize, just watching… we have made way too many horror movie jokes about it, “Jambo BITCH”  being my personal favorite) at our house all the time, one is little boy by the name of Jomari. He’s one of my favorites, quiet, calm, and patient. He actually comes up and says hi when he sees us too. (What a concept!) He was over when Obo Titus was teaching us how to make a tippy tap. Titus moved fast, throwing ours together in a few minutes.  I barely caught on, taking notes and everything. But this week when we surveyed Jomari’s house, he had built a miniature tippy tap! It was next to their latrine, and had started working on a second for near their kitchen. He used a 1L jerri can instead of the standard 3L, and had a smaller piece of soap as well, but other than the size, it was an exact replica of what a Tippy Tap should look like. His mother then explained that he told her all about how important they are, and wants to build a plate stand after the second tippy tap.

*Pause*

I need you to let that sink in for a second… the gravity of a 6 or 7 year old boy learning what a tippy tap is, and not only building one for his family, but explaining to his mother why it’s important and working on a second for near the kitchen, and excited to build a plate stand afterwards.

Get it?

That’s exactly why I’m here. This little boy is why I embarked on this adventure. It’s so easy to forget… to get caught up in all of the problems, be affected by the culture shock and homesickness…  oh and the malaria… but that one story could keep me going all summer. I’ll try to get a picture up here soon for you all, of Jomari and his tippy tap.

I’ll end on that note. Miss you all. Hope everyone is doing well!

** Picture of Mango tree for my sister: 

Happy Father's Day and Happy Birthday Mom! 6/19

Hey team!

I know it's been two weeks since I've updated my blog, but seriously, the last few weeks have been crazy. We had all intern training the second week, and then that Friday we moved into our village, Nawansega B.

Within an absolutely crazy 48 hours, we were back at UVP Headquarters because there were a massive amount of bed bugs in our beds, wasps nests in our rooms, we lost one of our two Ugandan interns to final exams for two weeks (debilitating our team from being able to work at full capacity), and an overbearing contact person, Kisige, who stayed at our house literally from 6:30am, hours before we woke up, until probably 6 or 7 pm. Fumigation, washing of all of the clothes, sheets, mattress pads, a full cleaning that really should have happened before we got in the village and a stern talk with Kisige later, and we found ourselves back in the village by Tuesday.

To say there's been resistance to our presence in the village is a bit of an understatement... or maybe that's the culture shock kicking in. Shocked stares, dirty jokes and kissing noises from the men, "Mzungu Mzungu Mzugu being yelled in every direction from the kids and beggars... it's been hard transitioning. After the frustrating move-in, move-out, the village resistance my team perceives has begun affecting team dynamics. It's hard. If I walk away from this experience not hating men, a miracle will have occurred. It feels like the only ones who are interested and willing to work with us are the women, with their full burdens of 8+ kids, constant pregnancy, being expected to work in the house and maintain the gardens while their alcoholic husbands are in the town center drinking. They don't have time and the men don't care. As long as they get a couple 12 -13 year old wives, & extra kids here and there, they don't care.

That may have been harsh. But like my wonderful parents have been reminding me -- in the evolutionary scope of things, the two months that I'm here, and even the three years that UVP will be in Nawansega B do not come near the thousands of years of behavior. We're not fighting poor health here. It's behavior change. Let's talk about the most difficult thing in the world to try and alter-- human behavior. How long have the States been campaigning against smoking? What is still among the most deadly preventable inflictions American's have? Smoking & lung cancer. How can I hold these Ugandans to anything different?

And if behavior isn't itself enough of a problem, the institutions... or let me rephrase, complete lack of institutions regarding organized health care, water quality and the most visible to me, trash disposal, cause other, layered problems. How do we fix problems when the whole system is broken? In the US and otherwise. I wish you all could see the pictures I've been taking. People dump their trash into the streets and burn it in piles. I could barely breathe the first few times I visited Iganga. And yet, how do you encourage people to throw things away or recycle if there is no system by which that is possible?

Fortunately, our village has not yet had to attend any funerals. In two of the other villages, there have already been deaths.

Time here is interesting. The days go by so slowly, but the weeks seem to fly by without any progress. We only have 6 weeks left, and so so sooo much to do! A house-to-house baseline survey, a sanitation push, Village Health Team elections, let alone the HIV testing day, and the several sensitization we had hoped to be able to accomplish in our time here. No wonder the Peace Corps is a two year commitment.

And on a completely inappropriate and personal side note that I'm sharing because I can't talk to anyone here about it, there is an individual on my team that I do not like, and am desperately trying not to butt heads with. And I'm not necessarily in love with the rest either. I find solace with the other Team Leaders. It would have been nice if we could have all been a team together. Hahah, but seriously. Working and living with people you don't necessarily mesh with is harder than I thought.

I'm sorry I haven't been able to share pictures with you all. The sunsets are beautiful, and the full moon is just as bright here as it is in the mountains at home. I also apologize for the negative tone this blog post may convey. Please remember I don't have privacy ANYWHERE here, and so taking the time to blow off steam, even if on the internet, is a bit of a blessing. I hope that next week's tone is much lighter. I expect it will be. We actually get to hit the ground hard with our house-to-house survey. Preparing the town for VHT elections and helping with that process will also hopefully have a sustainable impact post our departure.

I miss you all. Thanks to those of you who've emailed me! I'll be replying shortly :-). amehrotra08@gmail.com


A letter to my sister:

"How is life in Africa?" That's a great question. Life is rough. Bed bugs, wasps nests, creepy contact people, resistance in village to our presence.

Life is beautiful. It rains so hard that we have to yell to each other to hear what we're saying. We are surrounded by corn, banana and mango trees. The sunsets are littered with a thick pink pollution haze that's ironically stunning. There are baby goats that look like puppies, and anorexic cows everywhere. The language is rhythmic and quiet, a lull that replicates the pace of the culture.

Life is poor. Poverty is endemic, and people become corrupt with overwhelming need to provide for their unsustainable large families.

Life is unfair. The women are treated terribly, are barely allowed to have a period before they may get married off to a much older man, and are expected to have 10 or more children Or they are raped while trying to get water for their families. The kids are dirty, they can't afford lunch and rarely get dinner. The malnutrition is extensive.

Life is fun. The same starving children stare at us, play games and sing songs with us while they jump around dancing, waiting for the next ridiculous thing we say or do.

It's a work in progress.

June 6th -- 1st Week Complete

Hi friends and family!

I wish I could share with you all everything I've experienced over the last week alone. It's been incredible! The first week here was Team Leader training, so only with the 13 other Team Leaders, 7 of which are Ugandan. They are so friendly, having worked with Mzungus in the past few years through UVP... they tend to understand our 'strange ways'.

"Mzungu" - depending on where you are, this phrase could mean "white", (which apparently I qualify for... not white enough at home, not black enough here... hahaha), also "foreigner" "European", and "rich"... I've already started identifying as such, though I'm not sure I will ever be okay with how much people stare at me. The kids are one thing, but when adults, both men and women (though men stare more openly) stare, it's kinda hard to resist yelling "BOO!" to get them to stop. I imagine making a greater spectacle of myself is not the point.

We visited our village a few days ago. It's called "Nawansega B". It's referred to as "B" because the original "Nawansega" is SO HUGE that the needed to split it in half. Unfortunately this means right down the middle of the town center road. The right is "A" and the left is "B". Our house is probably the best in all that I saw in the village when we toured around (which only took us 4-5 hours by foot... granted we stopped several times to speak with the villagers at their homesteads). It's "big", made of concrete, has floors. Three small "rooms" with doors, which I guess is rare. We also have a living room and a *small* table and chairs. By "small" I mean about a foot off the ground, like what we might find in a kindergarten classroom... The walls only go up about 10 feet before they stop, so you can hear everything in any room you are in. The latrine and the bathroom *washhouse* are outside in the back. We live in a gardening village, and I look forward to fresh mango as frequently as possible.  The kids follow me around when they think I'm not looking, staring and giggling at me. I try to be nice to them, and went and sat with a few and introduced myself. Learning Lusoga is difficult, but hopefullly I'll be well-adapted by the end of the summer.

Yesterday, Julius and Reagan (two Ugandan Team Leaders) took the rest of us Int'ls to Jinja, where we visited the Main Street (aka "Mzungu Street", with Mzungu prices and souveniours that are probably not even from here), and then we went down to the Nile. I wish I could share some of the pictures I took with you. It's HUGE. The source, Lake Victoria, flows right into it. We took a boat ride, and then returned back to town. We then ate at the most Western restaurant we could find, wanting to avoid Matoke, Rice and Beans at all costs... and hopefully have access to some vegetables, or salad. We did! It was expensive, but worth while, especially if we only get to do it once a month or so.

The rest of the interns arrive today. I have no idea how all of us will fit in our current guesthouse. But Ugandans have the ability to fit people EVERYWHERE. There are so so so SO many people. Trash litters the street. They burn it to get rid of it, and we only get clean air once every hour or so. In the cities, I can barely breathe, the exhaust, burning trash and smell of everything is so strong.

I am excited to meet the rest of my team, and get to know our village more. We officially move in on Friday. I'll keep you updated on progress as we actually begin working. Our goals for the summer are overwhelming. The village is so huge, and we have so many people who need help. I hope I don't lose faith and become overwhelmed. The need here is astounding. Everyone everyone everyone needs something. And not something small or negligible, but seriously impairing. It makes me very sad.

Anyways, I got internet way after the rest of the Int'ls, who are waiting for me. We decided to come to town today without any Ugandans, to try out our bartering skills and see how it is without them. Woo, big scary world out there! Seriously, Iganga is very intimidating because of how crowded and busy. The drivers drive like they do in India, if not worse. It's terrifying.

Anyways, I am well. I will try to blog every week or so. Sorry this was so long.. had a lot to say! Love you all!

I will have email access on my phone, if I get EDGE in the village, so please feel free to email me: amehrotra08@gmail.com.