Two Weeks Notice

Wow.  Two weeks left.  That seems like hardly anything now given how fast time is going (to be fair, time is going at the same speed it always does it’s merely my perception of it that is different).

In two weeks from now I will be sitting in Entebbe airport waiting for my flight reflecting on my nine weeks here in Uganda.  That’s very surreal.  I’m having a hard time picturing myself walking around Boston with a McDonalds, or a Starbucks, or a public toilet on every corner.  I suppose I’m going to be like a two-year-old staring open-mouthed at the wonders of Western civilization (which include but are not limited to supermarkets, fast food restaurants, $4 cups of coffee, big screen televisions, street lights, stop lights, speed limits, paved roads, air conditioning, and the twinkie).

I almost don’t want to leave.  It’s been great being here.  I’ve learned plenty about Uganda and what it’s like to work for a grassroots NGO.  I’ve learned a lot about myself specifically about whether I want to pursue this line of work in the future.

But I’m not done yet.

There’s still two weeks to go and there’s plenty of things that need to happen.  The SHARE program is being implemented in two schools on Friday and Saturday which is very exciting (and terrifying).  My goal is to test at least 100 kids at each of the schools and hopefully I’ll meet that goal. This has been a good learning experience implementing a project on the ground (in Uganda of all places).  I’ve come to learn that it has helped tremendously that I am white because I tend to mean business when I show my face somewhere (wearing my Obama shirt to official meetings also doesn’t hurt either).  However, the mere fact that I am white does not explain all of the willingness for people to bend over backwards in helping me carry out this project.  The people here are incredibly hospitable and welcoming.  People have been willing to rearrange their schedules and donate their time or resources at no expense in order to help get the program going.  I only hope that it meets their expectations come Friday and Saturday.

Everything else is going great.  I’ve even found a deli place (with real deli meats!) that I frequent at least twice a week for lunch.  I could die a happy man after finishing one of those sandwiches.  I’ve also been carrying around my camera doing my best to take as many photos of cute Ugandan kids before I leave.

For those who are going to be in Boston after July 28, let me know.  I am eager to spend the month of August carefree with trips into the city, to the beach, and around Sudbury (oh Sudbury).  There’s also probably going to be a New York trip in there as well so let me know if you’re in New York at any point during August (or if you would like to accompany me on the Fung Wah).

So that’s it!  I’ll talk to you all later.

Fourth of July Update

Greetings to everyone!

I hope everyone is enjoying the Fourth of July.  I’m not sure what I’m doing tonight to celebrate but we’ll see what happens.  I was going to make my own sparklers but couldn’t find any potassium chlorate.  Bummer.

So what’s going on here?  Not all that much to be honest.  My HIV project is slowly coming along.  We’ve confirmed one school and are waiting on the second one to call back to confirm.  My verbal sparing with the AIDS Information Centre has paid off and I am free to talk as much about condoms as I want as long as I don’t pass any out (take that President Bush!).

I am really enjoying the family planning sessions and net sales which is how I spend most of my afternoons.  I’m resigned to the fact that I am not actually needed seeing as how everything I say gets translated into Lusoga but I’m confident that my presence is purely a draw for the crowd.  I mean, who wouldn’t stop to see what a white person was doing in their village with a big black dildo (in full disclosure, the dildo is average sized but it sounds better this way)?  I’m ok with being used for my white skin and I now know enough Lusoga to joke with the mothers when they offer up their daughters for marriage.

The sad event this week was the departure of the twins.  While my fascination with the two British medical students has faded over the weeks since I first met them, I will miss their presence around the clinic and on the outreaches.  I’m dreading a social isolation seeing as how I will no longer have any reason to go to the campsite since going to the campsite is basically like going to a frat house except everyone has a British/Australian/South African/New Zealand accent and everyone loves to kayak.  Maybe I’ll get lucky and Jenny the Peace Corp volunteer will show up.

I think that’s all for now.  Have a Happy Fourth of July everyone!  Drink beer, eat a hot dog, and blow things up for me!

Omunyenye (stars) from Sipi Falls

Omunyenye (stars) from Sipi Falls, originally uploaded by rekcid42.

I don’t know if this really came out, but here’s a picture of the milky way and stars in general from Sipi Falls.

Abseiling At Sipi Falls

Abseiling At Sipi Falls, originally uploaded by rekcid42.

Me repelling down the side of a waterfall at Sipi Falls. Yeah, I’m that intense.

Dan and the African Jews

This past weekend marked the “I’ve been here longer than I have left” point in my trip (that actually happened last Wednesday but whose keeping track?). To celebrate, the Foundation for Sustainable Development decided to take a break from being the bothersome and meddling organization that they are (meddling in a bad way, not like “Scooby Doo”) and took us to Sipi Falls. Sipi Falls isn’t really a national park as I had previously mentioned but instead it’s a series of three waterfalls that are pretty spectacular. It’s out in the middle of nowhere (very relative expression for here) Eastern Uganda but it was well worth the three hour trek out there.

The nine of us interns arrived at around 4 o’clock in the afternoon and naturally gravitated toward the bar (though it hadn’t started to serve alcohol yet). We started to mingle with the other muzungus and the other kid from Emory, Dan Chertok, started talking with this obviously Jewish girl from the LA. I say obviously Jewish not because of any of her physical characteristics but rather because she looked like one of the semi-orthodox girls who are quite numerous on the campus of Brandeis. Chertok called me over fairly excited and then the girl proceeded to tell us about a small tribe of Africans who had converted to Judaism about 100 years ago.

About 100 years ago, once the missionaries had done their thing with Uganda and most people were Christian, there were a bunch of people who got pretty pissed seeing the missionaries preach one thing and then act another way. This caused some trouble and people decided to give up the Christianity the missionaries had been preaching and turn to something else. Well in this little town outside of Mbale, a group of people called the Abuyudaya decided, hey now, let’s try this whole Judaism thing. So they started practicing Judaism and they grew in numbers until Idi Amin decided he didn’t like Jews and they were subsequently persecuted (story of our people). At the end of his regime, there were about 300 of them practicing. Thirty years later, the community has grown to about 800 and there’s a synagogue and they’ve constructed a Jewish high school as well.

African Jews in Uganda? I had to see this. The girl told us that services started at 6:30 and that we could still make it. I suddenly got very excited and Chertok and I arranged for a car to drive us the hour back to Mbale. Just then one of the FSD coordinators, Joel, took an interest in our activities and came over to see what was going on. We told Joel that we were going to Friday night services with this group of African Jews. He told us we couldn’t go.

My relationship with FSD hasn’t been the greatest since we arrived. While I theoretically like what they do, there is a big difference between how they are supposed to operate and how they actually operate. I can’t stand how they come to periodically check up on me at Soft Power Health causing me to miss going on outreach programs or generally being productive. So when Joel told me that we couldn’t go to services, I just about lost it. Having had a conversation about homosexuality in Uganda and wanting to punch the two Ugandan FSD people for not sharing my enlightened Massachusetts views on the subject, I blatantly told Joel that if this was a Christian service we wouldn’t be having this problem. Whether or not I actually believed it didn’t matter but I figured I’d pull the religion card to get him on the defensive. Joel assured the two of us that we couldn’t go for safety reasons and that if anything happened to us then he would be responsible. Chertok and I then suggested that we would sign the release forms (meant for repelling down the side of a waterfall the next day) so that FSD would be absolved of all responsibility of the two Northeast Jews who just wanted to go to services.

After some arm twisting, we finally got him to agree to let us go after signing release forms. I could not stop laughing as I signed my life away to go to Friday night services.

The service was really incredible. There were about 10 muzungus, some from Israel and others from the U.S. (including Brandeis, of course) but the other 50 or so people who showed up to services were African. While I’m normally not a big fan of musical instruments in services, I have to admit it was pretty awesome to have two guitars, a tambourine, and a giant African drum playing along to the opening psalms. To make things even cooler, the psalms had all been translated into Luganda. So there were Chertok and I, rocking out in Luganda at this tiny little synagogue outside of Mbale. The rest of the service was in Hebrew which was even cooler. They had many of the same melodies that we have in the U.S. and it was the same service structure. Afterward, we stayed behind and talked with the rabbi who had been the head of the congregation since 1986. I was wearing my Obama shirt (totally unintentional) so we had a good chat about the election and what I thought about Obama and Clinton (we discussed the merits of her as VP) and McCain.

It was so cool and I can’t find the words to say exactly why it was so great. It’s just this tiny little isolated Jewish community doing their own thing and living side-by-side with their Muslim and Christian neighbors with no problem. They have bar mitzvahs and Jewish weddings and they teach Hebrew. They use the same prayer books (most of them donated from congregations in the U.S.) and the same melodies but they put their own spin on it. The torah portion for that Saturday was on competition and how to treat competitors and I really wished I had stuck around to hear it. It would be fascinating to hear how Judaism relates on a Ugandan level. So great.

On the way back, Chertok and I got a ride from a guy named Wyclef (awesome) and then took a private hire back. We didn’t die and there was no need for the release forms but the experience was well worth the initial frustration.

The rest of the time at Sipi was good. I did the repelling down the waterfall which sounds a lot cooler than it was (whatever). I got to swim in a natural pool which was freezing but worth it. And of course there were the stars. It was a bit of a throwback to that night at the game park in South Africa except without a playground, alcohol, and the company wasn’t as good.

I can’t believe that I’ve only got four weeks left here. There’s a lot I need to get done on my project but we’ve got one school confirmed and I’m waiting to hear about additional funding from FSD (we were supposed to hear two days ago, SURPRISE!). Despite earlier emails, I am really enjoying being here now. I’m doing my own net sales and family planning sessions and have really gotten free reign to work on my HIV project. I haven’t gotten sick this week (cross your fingers it stays that way) although I developed a cold sore that’s a bit of a blight on my otherwise perfectly “I work for an NGO and I’ve been in Africa for a while” appearance. I did however have a pretty hilarious conversation with Julius Caesar (one of the translators) about how I got the cold sore which involved making fun of and imitating the British girls who come to Africa (in full disclosure, I’ve gotten cold sores since I was young, not from any skanky activities in Africa).

That’s it for now, enjoy the few pictures I’ve managed to put up.  You’ll be able to admire my “I work for an NGO and I’ve been in Africa for a while” look.  Oh don’t deny it ladies, I know you love it.  Until next time kids…

Close Up Look

Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear and curse. When you’re chewing on life’s grissle, don’t grumble, give a whistle. And this’ll help things turn out for the best…

That’s how the song goes. I’m not sure which is more amusing, the song or the fact that there’s a bunch of guys on crosses whistling.

Regardless, it’s been a tough week here. I’ve taken on more responsibility and have started doing entire Malaria education and Family Planning sessions on my own. It’s actually not that bad since I carry around a cheat sheet. The sessions take a while but it’s always entertaining when you whip out a big dildo from a brown paper bag. There are some things are are universally funny. Dildos are one of them. For those who were with me in South Africa, this marks the second African country I have demonstrated condom use. I think I may make it a personal goal to do it in each African country if I can. That would be an accomplishment I could brag to my grandkids about (“Did I ever tell you about the time that I put a condom on a dildo in every African country?” “For god sakes grandpa we’ve heard that story a thousand times!”).

I’ve also started to make some headway on my HIV project. Unfortunately, I got into a bit of an argument with the organization who is going to be responsible for testing. Because they receive funding from PEPFAR, they have to focus on the A (Abstenance) and B (Be faithful) aspects of HIV prevention. No discussion of condoms thanks to President Bush. Also, it is apparently illegal for children to have sex under the age of 18 so discussing condoms is out of the question. I politely told the manager that he could go fuck himself (not in those exact words since I have to work with his organization) if he thought that I was going to talk about HIV prevention and not discuss condoms. We’ll work out the details next week but I am beginning to get an understanding why it is so difficult to do something as talk about HIV prevention.

The saddest part, and most distressing, was the death of one of the patients. George was doomed from the start even though he shouldn’t have been. About four weeks ago, George, a 12 year old boy from our village,
fell out of a tree and damaged his back. From what I’ve heard, he may have fractured his spine but there was no paralysis. Unfortunately, the group of men who gathered around George while he was laying on the ground in pain decided to just throw him into the back of a mutatu (the taxis that are notorious for packing people in like sardines) and send him to Jinja hospital. Soft Power Health heard about him and decided to get him some help at IHK which is the nicer (and more expensive) of the two big hospitals in Kampala. After a week in Kampala, George was transferred to Mulago (the scary government hospital) to go to the spine ward there since IHK didn’t have one. At this point, George was in fairly decent condition. He had gotten a neck brace and was remaining stabilized so as not to cause any further damage to his spine. George’s mother, who was with him at IHK, apparently did not speak any of the local languages (or English). While she nodded and said that yes she understood what to do once getting to Mulago, did not actually understand a word of the instructions given to her. George and the mother went and sat outside the spinal ward at Mulago for a week before we were contacted by a friend working at the hospital. George’s mother had not put George on the waiting list for the ward and had just spent the week waiting for no reason in particular. We managed to put him on the waiting list hoping that someone would die so that he could get a bed (may sound cold-hearted but that’s how things unfortunately work here). When we went to check on George this week, we found him laying on the ground outside the ward without his neck brace on. His mother had thrown it away. To make matters worse, George was epileptic and was have seizures on a pretty regular basis. So there was George flopping around without his neck brace on the floor where he had spent the past two weeks. We got a call the other night saying that George had died which was a bit of a relief given how he looked the last time we saw him. He had had a seizure which had snapped his spinal cord and died suffocating and choking on his own saliva. So it goes.

Healthcare in this country is a sham and it’s difficult to point to any one thing and say, “if you do this, then things will get better.” A cancer patient asked me if she was going to get better and, because I suck at lying as many of you have witnessed (my ears tend to turn bright red), I wanted to tell her that, nope, you probably won’t get better because you don’t make enough money so you’ll be forced to go to Mulago where you’ll get shitty treatment and die of some secondary infection all because you happened to be born in Uganda. But I lied and said she’d probably improve if she got the treatment she needed which is kinda true but odds are she won’t get that treatment.

I can’t complain because this is what I wanted: to get a good look at healthcare in a poor African country and I’m getting it. As bad as it sounds, I’m adjusting to the sad reality that is healthcare in this country. I’m trying to get better about leaving certain problems in Kampala and learning to not think about the patients and instead think about the set of hot British twins who are now working at the clinic. I sit out at night and look at the stars pondering existence and where I could possibly find a store that sells goddamn American Q-tips. The stars and the hospitality of the people here have been my saving grace of this trip. I enjoy the education sessions but I’m not sure that would be enough to keep me sustained through what I’ve seen in the past week. But somehow my host mother and sister manage to take my mind off of things while I try to explain the physics behind stars or what exactly is a shooting star or why the moon looks like it has a woman carrying something on her head (craters).

That’s it for now. I hope everyone is doing well. Thanks for keeping up with me. Until next time…

Quickfire Update

Here are some of the recent highlights from the week so far:

• Celtics won!!!!! This isn’t Uganda related and no one here really cares about basketball but I was excited.
• Went to the big, scary Mulago hospital which is the national hospital in Kampala.  If I slip into a coma, I can guarantee the last words before I lose consciousness will be “Fly me out of the country for medical care.”
• Had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  I almost cried.
• There are now a set of British twins working at the clinic.  Awesome.
• Did my first family planning session and was asked about a man who was pregnant.  Explaining sex change operations, chromosomes, and DNA in Lusoga is difficult.

That’s it for now.  Hopefully I’ll get to post something this weekend.  Until then, you stay classy internet people.

Updated Address

Although I technically have an address, nothing would get through.  The mail system here is absolutely horrid and anything that gets sent from the U.S. is usually intercepted in Kampala and winds up in the home of some lucky postal worker.

This is bad news but I think I’ll be ok.  The only thing I wish I had from home was a box of Q-tips.  The ones here are shotty Chinese excuses for Q-tips which break and bend leaving my ears not fully clean and unsatisfied.  Such are the sacrifices I have made.

Thanks to everyone who has expressed interest in sending me something.

Mr. Miaggi, My African Mother

There’s been a lot of T.I.A. moments in the past two weeks. That may explain why I haven’t gotten a chance to post in a while so here goes a brief overview of what I’ve been up to lately…

I’ve started working with Soft Power Health on a number of projects. I’ve been going out into the field and pretty much saving thousands of little children. Actually, I’ve been doing family planning which means I’ve probably prevented thousands of little children from being born so I’m not sure what my cosmic-afterlife scorecard is looking like. I’ve also been doing malaria education sessions where we do about a 15 minute presentation and then sell nets to crowds of mothers. The crowd is similar to those people who get to J.C. Penny at 3 o’clock in the morning for a sale on wedding dresses. These mothers, fortified by working in their gardens and raising several children already, tend to overwhelm the likes of me and my fellow white people. Inevitably we run out of nets before everyone has had a chance to buy them which leads to a series of words I have not learned in Lusoga but probably wouldn’t want to use in front of my host mother.

Speaking of my host family, they are awesome. My host mother is a real African woman. She works in the gardens during the day and cooks feasts of matooke (mashed bananas), posho, rice, cabbage, and dodo (like spinach with a bit of a collard greens flavor to it) during the evening. While I probably wouldn’t have eaten any of these foods three weeks ago, my palate has quickly learned to appreciate traditional Ugandan food. I’ve limited myself to eating at The Source and other muzungu hotspots around Jinja. Having my host mother is basically like having my own Ugandan Jewish mother.

My host mother speaks a limited amount of English but we seem to have no problem communicating. She, as well as the rest of the rest of the family have been teaching me Lusoga mpola mpola (slowly slowly). When practicing my newfound phrases with children, they launch into uproarious laughter whenever I get a phrase correct. If I manage to butcher the language or phrase (something that often happens) they yell the correct phrase louder than before until I am able to make the correct pronunciation.

Like I said, my host mother doesn’t speak a lot of English. When she does say something, it is often in a profound and often prophetic tone. “That chicken,” she says, “is called enkoko.” I feel like I should write it down in a notebook and meditate using “Chicken is enkoko” as my mantra. She’s like Mr. Miaggi from the Karate Kid movies except instead of being a short Asian man, she’s a burly African woman.

My host sister Sylvia is also pretty awesome. Not only is she awesome, she is absolutely beautiful. To head the questions off, no there’s not going to be any incestuous host family stuff going on. That wouldn’t go over to well. That being said, we have long chats about what should get improved in Uganda and what things are like back in the United States. She yells at the neighborhood kids to stop climbing on my when it’s time to take tea and she goes out in the morning and brings me back my preferred breakfast (egg chapatis are food of the gods… at least, that’s what it tastes like in Uganda). So yes, she’s pretty much awesome.

That’s all for now.  Hopefully there’ll be pictures soon (I haven’t seen myself in a mirror for a while so I’m sure I look scary with my heavy NGO scruff).  Hope everyone’s doing well.  Thanks for the emails from everyone!  And thanks to Said for calling!

My Uganda Phone Number

I got my phone and my number is the following

+256 (country code) 077 366 3230

Cell reception is pretty good but I don’t have electricity at my house to charge my phone so it may be dead when you call and I apologize if that happens.  Email is still probably the best way to get in touch if you need to.

Until later…

Dan