Hello from Uganda!
I have written a good half of this letter in the dark under a mosquito net in my room, and another chunk with a cup of super sweet African tea under the sunshine, which is dodging and ducking through bright tropical flowers and banana leaves so it can reach me and give me yet another patch of new freckles!
The last couple of weeks have been a learning curve in all aspects of the phrase. I guess travelling is a little like “life condensed”. You can have some of the worst experiences of your life one day, the best the next day, the most shocking in the same day… and come out of it new and different and fulfilled no matter what. I am sure most of you know that feeling!
The last group of volunteers left (and left behind a big hole, but lots of nice clothes) and Erin and I had a week or so with Doreen, Valence and the kids to ourselves. And now there is a group of 13 girls here! They are from a university in the US where Valence went to speak a number of years ago. The university has since been sending a group of students each year. They are aged between 19 and 24 and are studying everything from health promotion and nutrition, to global development and teaching. They are building some new school classrooms in the village Valence grew up in. The village is called Kitoola (KIT-OHL-LAH). I haven’t had as much time to engage with this group as the other group, but it has been amazing to watch them talk at the end of the day. They are a gorgeous bunch of girls and they sit around over dinner and talk about the day’s highlights. Apart from noticing how well they listen to each other and take it in terms to speak, I am so impressed by the way they tease out how each experience made them feel, what it made them think, what it made them reconsider about their own lives, what they wish they could change about the world. And most of all, they ask questions. What does this mean? What is the rate of prevalence of this? Is it normal for women to have to go through this? They have had such a great time connecting with the kids at the school and have been blown away by the juxtaposition of a young man who has almost no concept of the internet or what snow is, who has no parents, lives on less than $2 a day, has run out of school books, but is working super hard in class, telling them he wants to be a pilot. They are still staggered by the fact six-year-old children have to walk two kilometres just to get a jerry can of water, and do so with a smile on their faces! They have said they are going to be very harsh babysitters when they go home. Quote: “Put the ipad down, stop your whingeing and go and get your own juice, you little brat!”. It is all relative and situational though and I know they were joking. It all sounds very much like the cliché ‘African experience’… but it is a true picture of people’s lives, it is the reality of what is happening in so many parts of the world, and it would be a strange person who would come here and not be blown away by it. This is just how people live. They are mostly happy. And it’s because they don’t know anything else. There is certainly a debate there about the need to educate people about their human rights and the need for more equality in the world, versus the risk of disturbing people’s happiness through a ‘we know better’ approach.
Speaking of cooking…. I was reminded of a certain locust pizza and some locust cooking at the Ouyen hospital yesterday (Aunty Sue, Aunty Gayle/Uncle Tony, Gran and anyone in Mildura will know what I’m talking about here…). Doreen whipped me up her favourite snack! I came home to find her in the kitchen and she was telling me she had bought me a special treat. I was guessing and guessing… avocado, pineapple, jackfruit? She said it was a snack and it was crunchy. Did she find macademias??! No such luck. Some other kind of nut? Nope. And then she pulls out two plastic bags with jumping green things in them. GRASSHOPPERS!! A few hours later and they weren’t jumping so much any more. Except for into my mouth! Salty little crunchy things! Kind of like fries… kind of! But I took my revenge by offereing to make her breakfast in the morning. She didn’t know what was happening when she bit into her ginger-spiced omelette and found herself nibbling on a grasshopper leg!
On the downside, I have started wearing around a ring on my wedding finger and have learnt how to say “I am married” in Luganda. Not that it really seems to matter if people think you are married. Monogamy is not such a big deal here. I have had a couple of experiences which weren’t so great, and a friend of mine had a couple of uncomfortable encounters. It’s an interesting lesson in questioning why we do things the way we do them, why we value monogamy so much, in the way people ‘flirt’, in the way body language can actually mean such different things in different places, and in not judging people just because they live their lives in a way you had previously considered to only be for those intent on exploiting and being disprespectful.
This is not an example of one of the bad experiences, but just an encounter I had which might shed some light on the perspectives I'm talking about:
I had lunch with a man who is heavily involved and respected in Uganda's arts and civil rights scenes. He very casually talked about how many wives he hopes to have. His father had seven wives. His grandfather had 17. His current wife, who he has two children with, is not really his ‘wife’. She is only his wife in the traditional tribal sense, and the mother of his first two children. She will not become his 'real' wife until he pays for her and they have a proper church wedding. Payment can range from anything like a few cows, to half a dozen sports cars. But this man doesn’t think he will make this woman his 'real' wife. And then he talked about how he would like to breed with a mzungu (white) woman, because apparently white women have good ‘genes’. You see, there are many reasons why a man needs to seek several wives (apparently). For example, the one who is good looking might not be very well educated, and the one who is well educated might not have very much money etc etc. And then he asked if I was married. And then offered to take me on a research trip to Western Uganda for the night. I'm sure his intentions were genuine, but politely declined.
Polygamy is legal in Uganda, which is one of the reasons most families tend to have an abundance of children. Although the country is predominantly Christian and thereby favours monogamous marriages, the traditional culture has not died out and it is one of the few Christian nations in the world to recognise polygamous unions. This is certainly a challenge to HIV prevention, with up to 80 per cent of rural women saying their husbands have multiple partners. And although Ugandan wives are expected to be faithful to their husbands (and also expected to give him what he wants, because he paid for it after all), some women also have extra marital affairs because they want to take revenge on their husbands. Also, women who are in polygamous marriages are often targeted by other men, who believe it is okay to try and have sex with them because those women are “used to sharing a man”.
In 2005, more than 1000 Muslims rallied against a proposed bill that would require a husband to seek permission from his first wife before marrying any more women. The bill died. In 2010, polygamy was again challenged in the constitutional court by a group of women who attempted to overhaul the polygamous culture through a petition to court. But a group of Muslim women blocked the bill.
I think if Ugandan women want to change the status quo and fight polygamy in the constitution then it is a good thing. Particularly when it is putting their health and life at risk. But I’m also trying to keep in mind it is not for me to judge any man who is entering into polygamous domestic arrangements, when that is what he has grown up with, and that is what he has been taught as not only perfectly acceptable – but ideal. Arron has been revisiting The Alchemist today, on the train from Bassano to Venice, in Italy. One of the quotes he picked out was:
“Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives but none about his or her own”.
It’s a good one to keep in mind when in another country, and particularly when working in development. As much as you think you might have the best idea about how to do things, but often our own lives need serious examination.
On a lighter traveller’s note, I had a beautiful mini-overnight-getaway last weekend. Erin (the other volunteer working in health promotion who is here for another three weeks) organised a night away for her birthday. So Erin, three of her friends and I trekked off to an island near Jinja for a night. It is such a bizarre feeling to be on an island, in a landlocked African country. But just for some perspective – the width of Lake Victoria is about the distance from Melbourne to Horsham.
The trip there was a bit hairy… it was bucketing down rain and I was skooting along in a taxi bus in the mud! At one point, when I couldn't see out the window, and we were sliding around on the skinny muddy road, I actually started envisioning how I would climb out of the taxi if it rolled over. Despite the rain, I wound down the window so I knew I'd have somewhere to climb out of!
It was a bit of a hike – a taxi bus (matatu) from Kampala to Lugazi, a boda to the house in Lugazi to repack, a matatu to Jinja, a boda in Jinja to the next matatu, another matatu to another town, a boda… and then a canoe! I think the guy paddling our canoe was very used to visitors. He didn’t have a shirt on, had ridiculously large muscles, was splashing around in the water when I arrived, and offered to have his photo taken. Very cheeky. I told him I was trying to take a photo of the monkey in the tree behind him.
It’s Saturday and I am off to Jinja today. We were supposed to leave about lunch time, but it is now 6pm. It’s definitely a case of Africa time. I am just waiting for Doreen’s brother Dickson, who is coming with me. I am assuming he is late because he has been running around Kampala trying to find some medication for Rose’s mother. Rose is the woman who helps at the house every day with the cleaning and cooking. Her mother has a benign thyroid nodule, and also chronic sinusitis at the moment… but has also been having really bad headaches and keeps passing out. Rose and Doreen are really worried she has a brain tumour, but I’m not sure what the likelihood of that is. But the fact is, that if she had any form of cancer, she would die reasonably quickly. There is not really enough medication in the country to treat cancer, and even if there was, no one could afford it. Children with leukaemia just pass away. Erin is actually looking at doing a pHD on this issue. Cancer is something which isn’t given anywhere near as much support from the international community. Funnily enough, even though HIV/AIDS and malaria are massive problems here… if you contracted either of them in Uganda, you are probably in one of the best places in the (developing) world in terms of being looked after. So many resources have been injected into the problem and it is very easy to track down tests, medication and other treatment.
So the reason Dickson is running around looking for this medication is because I spent about eight hours looking for it yesterday. It’s a very basic medication, but as it is not one that people ask for every day, the pharmacists just don’t stock it. I went to every pharmacy in Lugazi and then spent four hours on public transport to go to Kampala to look for it. I took a boda all over Kampala to different pharmacies to try and find it, but no one had it. It was an interesting little window into health care in Uganda. The only reason Rose’s mother has any chance of getting this medication is because her daughter works for Doreen and Valence. It meant I could give Rose money for the medication (which wasn’t much at all. But too much for Rose), and Doreen’s brother Dickson can find it…because he happens to be a doctor. But if it was a woman in any of the villages, she probably wouldn’t have seen a doctor for a diagnosis, and she certainly wouldn’t be able to get access to the medication. The dirt tracks into the villages are hilly and pot-holed and pretty treacherous. Someone who is sick could never walk that far to get their own medication, and they certainly wouldn’t be able to afford to take a boda or pay someone else to go and collect it for them.
So… once Dickson DOES arrive, we are heading to Jinja… because in the morning, we are doing a running event along the Nile River! He is doing a 10km race and I will be attempting to do 21km. My training hasn’t been so great as I don’t feel very comfortable running by myself, and when I do find a Ugandan to run with me on the very rare occasion… they spend most of the run, walking. People don’t really run here. They just walk, and walk, and walk and walk. Apparently the only reason a Ugandan would run, is if they are chasing a matatu, chasing a thief, running away cause they stole something, or running from the tax man. Also, I have to keep running in dripping wet sneakers! The ladies who come to help at the house are always horrified at how dirty my shoes are and keep washing them in their water basins. They are very clean and the laces are whiter than ever. But they are always so wet! Makes me laugh how they keep stealing my shoes to clean and I can never find them!
But even if I have to walk, it should be pretty awesome. It starts at the source of the Nile River and then I’m not really sure where it goes. Very disorganized! They put posters up everywhere, but then there were only a few places you could register, and I had to go to Jinja last weekend just to put my name down. Then after running around all day trying to find the guy who takes the registrations (he kept moving locations) I finally find him… and he tells me registrations had closed. He said they put an announcement on the radio to say they had closed?? But there was no deadline date on the poster. So they took my money and said I needed to come and pick up my registration kit during the week. There is no map on the poster to say where the start line is, and the website on the poster doesn’t actually exist. So it should be an interesting morning!!
Hope all is well. And thanks to everyone for your emails! Please keep sending them. I love hearing about what is happening at home.
Lots of love,
Amy.
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