Adventures in Uganda Part 1...A Week of Journeys

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Somehow, I have been tapped to teach the nutrition classes next week as the regular teacher, Stephanie, is out of town. Intimidating, of course, but exciting! Stephanie teaches nutrition to some of the local health providers in a couple of near by villages, as well as our own, each week to encourage them to teach nutritional concepts to those they care for. Now, these villages may be near by, but getting there poses a whole new set of issues which I like to call adventures.

OK. So, one story about this past Tues…. Bodas, the word almost strikes fear into me when I hear it. I had been thoroughly warned about them before my arrival in Uganda. Boda is the local word for motorcycle and is the only rapid public transport around here. The problem is, they go very fast and will run over you if you get in their way. In the cities they can be very dangerous, to the point that Peace Corp workers are forbidden to ride them in Uganda. But, with no other option for getting to Basunga, a village only a few miles away, Scott Will and I climbed onto one and took our life in our hands. It was fantastic! Flying over hills and rocks we made it to our next hurdle, a fast and slightly high river. Apparently, the bridge over this river had been washed out in the rains only a few weeks before my arrival, forcing everyone to cross on foot. I made it across with no events, which must have disappointed the many onlookers just waiting for the tall white girl to make a big splash. The journey was well worth it. We were received with a warm welcome and were able to enjoy a favorite local activity, dramatic presentation, or skits as we call them in the US. They really get into it; props and everything! Dramas or skits are a big part of their lives. Though I was unable to understand their words, I understood the message. I can’t wait for next week! The way back was great. A gentleman I had just taught held my hand as we safely crossed the river and my face turned into a human wind shield as bugs pelted my eyes, nose and teeth riding the boda back home. I know, I should have kept my mouth closed, but I just could not help smiling. It was exhilarating!


Now Wed. was even better. How can that be? Just wait. Stephanie and I set out together, this time on bicycles, for Busaru. Now, mind you, we are at the base of a mountain range and there are hills everywhere. Not to mention that the roads are made of dirt with pot holes and rocks. Stephanie makes this ride every week, so of course I think no problem. Let’s just say, I had to almost push the bike about as much as I rode it. By the time we arrived, I was drenched in sweat. No one seamed to mind. Once again I listened to Stephanie and her translator, Angel Light, review the importance of nutrition and breast feeding, and enjoyed dramatic presentations of some of their nutritional experiences within the past week. I am loving this part of their lives! In the end, Stephanie and I set off once again on our bikes for the bumpy return home. Now here is where the craziness begins. On my way there, my skirt got caught in the brakes several times, making it difficult to peddle. So I got the bright idea of tucking my skirt into my shorts in both the front the back. Now, the return trip is more down hill than up hill and my helmet was not adjusted to fit my head. So, picture this, I come flying down the mountain with my skirt tucked into my shorts, bumping over rocks, my helmet is falling down over my eyes and as I near a curve, where a large group of people are standing, my helmet goes flying off and I nearly fall off my bike trying to stop and catch it. Needless to say, all were laughing, including me as a young man ran up to me with my helmet. But the fun does not stop there. Half way into the return home, it begins to rain, then pour and I have no choice but to ride on. And ride on I did. By the time I returned home, I was covered in mud from my head to my toes, skirt to underwear. I think I am beginning to like the mud! It looks good on me!

Thursday was tough! I start almost every morning in the pediatrics ward with Scott Will weighing babies and getting their charts ready for Dr Jennifer’s arrival. This morning was no different until Dr. Jennifer appeared delivering the news that a child we had seen only the day before had died that night. I remember the child well. She was a small girl about a year old who had been admitted for malaria. We treated her and truly thought she would do well, as she looked well that morning. What transpired that night we will never know, only to say that it was too much for her small body to handle. As this was the daughter of a friend of the Myhres, we were invited to the funeral. I opted to help care for the missionary’s children, as I had not felt well all day. But the funeral was only a few feet from where I was helping to care for the children and I could hear the wails of the mother as she mourned her daughter. I have never known pain as this mother is experiencing, but if I do I hope I wail too.

Thursday ended with the weekly team meeting at the Myhre’s. Nothing like making your own pizza to bring people together! It is a close nit group here and serves as a surrogate family in this remote home. They have welcomed me into their family with open arms, and for that I am truly grateful.

Not every day’s adventure has a happy ending. Friday morning I set off with Amy and Dr. Scott Myhre for Bundibugyo town only to be called back to Nyahuka to pick up a woman who had been in labor for an hour and a half with a breech baby. It seems that the baby was too big to be delivered vaginally and the only surgeon in Nyahuka, Jonah, was at a conference. So, we loaded her up into the back of Dr. Scott’s truck and just hoped to make it to the bigger town with a doctor in time to deliver the baby safely. Amy and I climbed into the back with her and sat on either side of the woman, cradling her head and supporting her back as we tried to ease her pain. The rocks and pot holes in the road take on a new significance when you can barely breathe. The 45 minute drive felt like an eternity to me as I experienced each and every one of her minute and a half contractions. Upon arrival, there was no doctor in sight, but the hurry was already over. Dr. Scott scanned her belly with his backpack ultrasound and there was no fetal heart beat. We were too late for the baby, yet the mother still needed attention. Amy rushed off to try and help find the surgeon. In the time she was gone, another expectant mother with her first child was brought into the hospital. Her pelvis was too small to deliver the baby and she had been driven here by friends from another town much like our woman. Thankfully, her baby was still alive and when Amy came back with the surgeon, they were able to take her to the operating room or “theater” as they call it here. I am not sure what happened to either woman, as we had to leave before all was resolved, but I only hope those alive when we left are alive today.

Why do some live and others die? Why do I live with wealth and these in poverty? Why is there a longing inside of me which I cannot satisfy? Questions flood through my mind to which I have no answer. I know one thing only, the Lord is good and my life is hidden in Him.

For you formed my inward parts;
You wove me in my mother’s womb.
I will give thanks to you, for I am
Fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works
And my soul knows it very well.
Psalm 139: 13-14


Love and God bless,
Rachel