How Much Can Fit Into Two Weeks?

The fact that I have not written any posts in the past two weeks is a sign of the type of trip this group has had since their arrival. Every day has been a new adventure. And each day has lasted until exhaustion sets in and the only things left to do are eat and crash into bed, possibly still having the energy to drape a mosquito net over yourself. We have walked the overcrowded streets of downtown Kampala, sat amidst countless traffic jams watching bodabodas cruise by between the gaps of the cars, eaten all of the traditional local food (matoke, posho, chapatti, beans, sugarcane, meat, etc.), played soccer (here, it is football) and basketball with the local schoolkids, kept tabs on the various animals and people that dig through the trash heap up the road, experienced what the true meaning of "off-roading" is... except that it wasn't off the road, walked through and cleaned garbage out of the overflowing gutters in the slums, seen the future of grass roots agricultural communities and educational farms, had too many conversations to count with people of another culture, held far too many hands of children to keep track of, heard the word "muzungu" (white person) to the point that we refer to ourselves as such, played and sang with orphans, traveled to Gulu (a place rife with violence and war just 4 years ago) and seen the "undugu" (meaning brotherhood) celebration for peace and brotherhood with all people, watched traditional dancing, seen wild animals galore while seated on the roof of a van, hiked the cliffs of the Nile River to the top of Murchison Falls, and somehow found time to pack in leadership training sessions just about every night along the way. It has truly been an experience.

Arriving in the Dark

After much scrambling around town to finish last minute details and make last minute barters in preparation for the arrival of the student group from the US, the trip is underway. The Be The Change service group for this year, consisting of five high school students and three adults, arrived sometime past nine this evening to all of the many and unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells of Uganda. Arriving past dark is an odd entry to the country, since the anxiousness to see and experience the world around you is boiling over. Yet, all you can see are the lights of bodabodas weaving through traffic, the vague outlines of tables, people and produce at an open market, and glimpses through doorways of peoples homes or businesses as the car speeds along the highway from the Entebbe airport to the capitol of Kampala. Meanwhile, I sat facing them in the van, sputtering all of the random knowledge I had gleaned since my own similar arrival nearly two months ago, knowing that for now, most of it was going to fly over their jet lagged heads. It doesn't matter what anyone tells you anyway. You have to see it. Upon this sort of late night arrival, the surreal sense that you are in another country lingers uncertainly. Without actually seeing anything clearly, things remain vague and it is difficult to place yourself in the surroundings. The air smells different, feels different, and the people talk differently. For the first night, you are told not to drink the water and to use the mosquito net provided for you above your bed. However, nothing settles in until the light of the next day. It is a matter of seeing things for yourself - that's exactly what everyone in the group is here to do. So, until tomorrow, they remain in a sort of limbo, waiting to see Africa with their own eyes - to discover it for themselves. Then, the real journey begins.

Kenya and the Shelter of Hope

I have just returned to Uganda from an exciting and extremely busy two weeks in Kenya. I apologize for the lack of posts during my time there, but unfortunately I was without internet access during my stay. Therefore, forgive the length of this post, as there is much to write.  

So, I arrived in Mombasa (on the coast of the Indian Ocean) on the eve of the first of July. I had attempted to speak with Sr. Gen (my contact in Voi), but the connections were unclear each time I attempted to reach her, thus I had no idea what to expect when I arrived particularly in regard to whether or not someone would be there to pick me up and where I was to be staying. After an interesting journey of missing the connection for my second flight (adding another seven hours to my travel) and the airline losing my luggage, I was greeted by the Sisters of St. Joseph at the gates to the city. Needless to say, I was beyond grateful to have a place to stay after thinking I was just going to wing it when I got to the city, a lone muzungu roaming unfamiliar streets at night, great idea. 

Anyway, I stayed two nights in Mombasa, a beautiful city on the coast, and met far too many nuns to name, all of which own a wonderful wit and contagious sense of humor. Here, I prepared for my trip to Voi, where I would be doing the filming for this leg of the trip. And after a peaceful and humorous stay, I made the journey to Voi (about 350 km West of Mombasa on the road to Nairobi - the capitol of Kenya). Voi sits in the valley of the Taita Hills, a Mountain range that springs up out of the sprawling, impressive, but desolate plains of central Kenya. Upon my arrival, I was greeted with by the Sisters at the St. Joseph Shelter of Hope (SJSH). As a norm, the women keep offering to carry my bags for me, and I keep denying, which then results in them wrestling the luggage out of my grip and doing it anyway. The women are strong. 

After an exploration of the city of Voi with Karl Kameru, a friend and the technical coordinator of SJSH, I hit the ground running with the story of the Shelter. Now, I imagined that most of the work would be done at their clinical facility on the compound, which would make sense in my understanding of a clinic. I was wrong. SJSH is a home-based care clinic, meaning they take the care to the patients. Again, I didn't really realize what this meant until I got in the 4 wheel drive enabled truck early Monday morning and we started scaling the sides of the mountains, climbing up ever increasingly dangerous roads (which should be termed "paths" or "death traps" instead of "roads") to the destination of the day. Over an hour later, we arrived at the location for the mobile clinic. This first day's site was situated on top of one of the Taita Mountains. Such a number of patients had shown for the clinic day that there was not enough room, thus they were content to sit in the grass outside and wait. Most are AIDS patients needing evaluation, medication and support. Some are weakened even to the point of being unable to walk. And since none of the people own vehicles, the patient is usually transported in a wheelbarrow - a very sad sight. 

SJSH provides mandatory educational presentations prior to the beginning of treatment - a very valuable tool in decreasing the stigma in the AIDS community. It raises awareness about the disease and quells rumors about false treatment. Support groups are required as well for the afflicted, a proven aid for mental well-being during treatment, as companionship is as important as medication when dealing with a chronic illness. The nurses, clinical professionals, pharmacists, etc., remain at the clinic until the demand is met. They do not leave just because five o'clock strikes. Their work is to provide health care to those that need it, so they remain until the job is finished. 

Each day, the SJSH staff commutes to these rural communities in all directions, working in some of the most improvised facilities imaginable. One of which was literally the container of a semi-trailer, divided in half by a sheet hung on rope to establish an examination "room" and a place for the taking of vitals. The lab and pharmacy are then relegated to tin shacks that look like slightly enlarged dog houses. The nurses also make home visits to check up on the patients, walking through the villages to make sure their patients are surviving and have their medications. I cannot imagine how taxing it would be to do this work on a daily basis, knowing that I was exhausted after just one day, and beyond exhausted by the end of the week. Yet they do, and they do it with a strong dedication and care unrivaled by most. The people need the care, and they provide it. That is the end of it. 

Due to the efforts of SJSH in establishing care and support groups, there is an undeniable sense of hope in the AIDS patients. One would think that dealing with a chronic disease of this caliber would create a defeatist attitude, causing the patient to descend into depression. However, each person I spoke with was rich in spirit and faith. One patient support group in particular has begun doing outreach education on their own, utilizing the arts of dance, song and poetry to raise awareness about AIDS. They see it as their duty to help stop the spread of the virus and the spread of the stigma attached to it. The hope in the room is undeniable. They believe we can beat this. That we can stop the spread, that we can find a cure, that, even when afflicted, we can live a rich life. They have Hope. Well, I think it's obvious that the St. Joseph Shelter of Hope is appropriately named.