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:
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