The Loss of a Sweet Spirit

 Danielle Gucciardo was 23 and filled with the kind of enthusiasm and genuine sweetness that is rare at any age. I say that because there are not many people I would describe as “sweet” without that characteristic being attached to being cloying or a bit fake, but Danielle was the real deal - an old soul in a young body. I didn’t know her well - she was part of the “new” Education Sector group based at a school a bit outside of Gulu. Because of that, our paths only crossed when she was able to get into town and we usually found each other at Coffee Hut.

No doubt her parents and sisters bid her farewell to Peace Corps and celebrated a new and exciting chapter in her life fully expecting her to come home filled with that same excitement about life - only a little more seasoned.  Even at 23 she had a passion for working with the disadvantaged.

She has gone home, but not as expected. 

Saturday, as Danielle, Jennifer and Ellen left to go to Kampala for In Service Training (IST), they walked along the same route I have taken many times and dreaded every step, to catch the Post Bus that leaves at 7 AM.  We walk in the dark to get there, along a stretch of road that wends its way through town skirting one of the main bars in town.  Our biggest fear is usually getting past the bar patrons spilling out onto the streets without being hassled.  Then there’s the long stretch flanked by a Papyrus swamp. It’s really dark and pretty spooky in its own right – the salient sound being the croaking of frogs.  We tend to walk on the left because it has a wide shoulder, avoiding  the right side (against the traffic) because you can’t see people who may be in the shadows.   The roads are pretty vacant at that time of the morning, with the random person headed to work or going home from the bars that are just closing.  So we are alert to vehicles - likely to be piloted by someone “under the influence.”

It was as these three young women walked to the bus, laughing and having a good time - headed to the first benchmark of their service: In Service Training (IST) that without warning: no lights, engine noise, squealing of breaks - in mid-sentence, a truck ploughed into them, killing Danielle instantly and injuring the other two, one seriously and the other with more minor injuries. 

The aftermath is too grim to describe, but suffice it to say there’s no 911 to deliver a sparkling clean and efficient team of paramedics and medical equipment to your rescue. I received a call at about 6:15 AM from our Country Director saying the ambulance had not arrived and could I help figure out what was happening.   It took a bit for me to understand who was involved and when I did, I knew which route they would have been taking.  Knowing the man I would call to drive me to find the accident, would take too long to get there,  I left on foot to find help and 30 minutes or so and  seven people later, I found a ride, by which time the ambulance had arrived. 

Jennifer and Ellen were taken to one of the two better hospitals in Gulu, only to be transferred almost immediately (relative term) to the best.  I arrived at that hospital at least an hour and a half after I got the call and still waited a good while before the injured arrived.   I have to say that hospital, LaCor, run by the Italians was decent, but not well equipped to handle this event.

Peace Corps sent a plane and doctor to Gulu to transport the injured back to Kampala and I along with another volunteer accompanied our friends.  It was a flawless ride, well managed and we arrived at Kampala International Hospital in good time.     By 10:30 that same night the most severely injured, was on her way to South Africa via air-ambulance (AmRef).  Seeing AmFef operate was like being back in the States: fast, efficient, state-of-the art. 

The community of Gulu rallied and has been very supportive.  I’ve received calls from the post office folks who know us all, the man who fixed my windows, a tailor with whom share mystery books, the Ugandan volunteers at the library, and so many others.  I've even received a call from S,amir, my dear Indian grocer who having missed me for the week, feared the worst. Ugandans and Muzungus alike having heard the news made their way to the hospital. Locals, who seem to come out of the woodwork at the scene even though the streets were empty the preceding moment, apprehended the driver who smelled of alcohol.

A grief counsellor sent by Peace Corp D.C. has been working with the group.  A beautiful memorial service was held at the IST training site and another is being planned at Danielle’s school. The trial is Monday. I know for most of her group, this is their first brush with death and this magnitude of loss.  It’s a cruel initiation into adulthood. I hope her family can take comfort in knowing how well loved their daughter was, that the way she lived her life has already changed lives and will be a beacon for others. As a mother my deepest grief is for her parents and sisters.