Re-entry Part Two

 As much as adapting to Uganda and specifically Gulu, was an adventure and a challenge, re-entry is offering equal opportunities for surprise, fury, self-analysis, befuddlement and feeling out-of-sync.  It doesn’t provide the sucking-in-of-breath kind of surprises that Africa offers but there’s been plenty of gasping and shock at what I’ve forgotten or all that’s changed in a mere two years.  Being out after dark and seeing the night sky after being in a locked-up-night-time-prison for two years produces the same wonder that a two year old must feel  at discovering an iridescent, speckled  beetle. 

It’s been a little over a month since I stepped back onto US soil and I am just beginning to feel like a citizen – although a forever changed one.   I wonder if I will ever lose my excitement over being able to wash hands in warm water coming from a tap or flipping a switch and having light on demand.  Interestingly, internet access and phones continue to provide frustration, mystery (will it “be there”) and opportunities for a few foul words.  I’m on the mountain hanging out during the day in Brett’s domain or at least near. Even famous Timberline Lodge - of The Shining lore – has its technology challenges, their internet having been down for four days.  Coupled with the unreliability of my third inherited i-phone with a geriatric battery, phone service is also spssoradic.  It seems like a bit of Uganda has followed me home to be sure I don’t get too accustomed to a world where technology works. 

Three weeks were spent in Austin with friends who welcomed me with warm, open arms and with saintly patience, good will and generosity.  I can hear my late mother saying: “Fish and company stink in three days.”  Fortunately, my hosts have ignored the stench!

A good friend threw me a party, but I needed to send out the invitations.  Still in my stupor at the time, I realized again how technologically challenged I was and that I’d lost my contact list in the fray of my Uganda computer melt-down and had deleted a lot of old e-mails to keep my ice-age computer from abandoning me in a land where getting another would take an act of congress – and we all know how effective Congress is.

Then I was so concerned about intruding on friends or over-stressing their good will, I wouldn’t – didn’t think of either – asking them to d a search for me.  In the same way that I felt like an intruder in Uganda those first months, I felt equally like an interloper when I came back.  This is a strange feeling that defies description, as words have always seemed a little lacking in revealing the subtleties of emotion.

At the moment, I’m in Oregon loving every minute of being in Brett’s world.  He and Molly have gone to great lengths to set up a space for me and make me feel welcome, cosy and warm.  Although this is considered a “warm winter” on the mountain, Timberline – is encased in ice. Two other resorts are barely open, one making its own snow. From the crackling, fragrant comfort of  a fire in the three story hand-built fireplace in the lodge  I’m looking out at a mountain side sporting trees bent under the weight of foot-long icicles.    As most of you know by now, Brett is Director of Ski Patrol and as such is tasked with keeping errant skiers and snowboarders from killing themselves on the slopes.  This means  - among other things - going out every morning, re-setting boundaries and breaking rime ice off boundary markers.  Yesterday the ice accumulation on ropes and poles was one foot in diameter and will be worse today.

Interesting to be here on the mountain to see what goes on.  The second day I was here Brett and another patroller happened to be on a ridge when they discovered a gaggle of young (and stoned) snowboarders out-of-bounds.  Going over to give them the out-of-bounds lecture, it was discovered that one of their motley crew had lept over a berm to rescue his gloves and proceeded to body surf to within six feet of a crevasse that would have taken his life had he not stopped.   They were able to rescue him with ropes, ice axes and cramp-ons, but it was treacherous as the lowering of temps has caused deep fissures in the ice between them and him. The snow-bridge on which he rested was fragile at best and heightened the risk, but thre was no time to spare.  Had they not been there at the time they were and been able to execute a rope rescue, this no-doubt would have ended a different way. 

The contrast between the grime, dust and primitive nature of Uganda and ice and snow at a luxury resort is mind bending. I could not have consciously chosen more opposite environments and cultures, unless it would be Travis’ world of cave-diving in Florida.  Across from me sits a woman wearing a full-length mink coat over her leopard-print pajamas.

Meanwhile, in Uganda Peter continues to struggle with shelter and food, although I have sent some funds, even those who mentor him live on the very edge of survival.  There is a deep well of need there that can never be filled. The saving grace is that climate there is temperate. In January, the results of his exams should be available and we will see what the next chapter holds for him.  One of Peter’s mentor’s (Patrick) has remained faithfully in Peter’s corner, sharing meagre resources, while others in the absence of  “Peter’s Muzungu” have either abandoned him or tried to use him for their own purposes.  Patrick has been accepted to study medicine at Gulu University, but was unable to secure a sponsor until Austin friends decided to fund  him for at least the first year (less than $2000 per year for a college degree  Miracles abound and if manages to continue to his goal of becoming a doctor he will no doubt forever change life for those in his community.

So connections with my community in Uganda continue even as I wonder what will the next chapter bring or what I will create.   Part of it this known - I put down my deposit for a Teaching English as a Foreign Language certification course in Guadalajara yesterday.  The five-week intensive starts on February 4^th and the goal is to be able to get work in Mexico to fund my fixation on becoming conversant in Spanish.   Right now, the only phrase other than greetings that instantly comes to mind is “Caramba! Se me olvido me quaderno (OMG I’ve forgotten my notebook)!  The mind is a perverse thing…  hopefully more phrases will emerge from hiding though I may have opportunity to actually use that one.  I’ve wanted to do this for decades and now’s the time, before I get to comfy or entrenched in both the accoutrements and overhead of living in the good ole USA.

I’m a little nervous – even if Uganda was a world away I had a safety net of sorts of people who had my back.  Not so much in Mexico, but I figure if I can learn to navigate and have eyes in the back of my head in Africa, I should be able to do it in Mexico. At least that’s my rationalization for the moment. 

On January 3^rd I’ll reappear in Austin, catch up with friends I didn’t get much time with earlier, go through storage once again and try to find different clothes and set off.

And so the quest continues. But for now I am basking in the glow of family and friends.  In my last few months in Uganda, one of my fantasies had me sitting by this fireplace, looking out this window at the snow falling on this mountain, sharing Christmas with Travis and Brett and their significant others.  The only part of that fantasy not manifested is Travis’s presence, but he’s enjoying his own fantasy Christmas of diving in the crystalline waters of Florida’s cave system.  And so life is unfolding in curious ways.

In closing, may you be enveloped with an abundance of health, good friends, security  and joy of  the season. Take stock of life’s blessings and enjoy.  In deep gratitude for your friendship and presence in my life –

Nancy

Time Travel t a Parallel Universe: RE-ENTRY

After twenty hours of travel and 48 hours without sleep,  I have landed in what feels like a parallel universe. It looks like a place I remember: there are people, cars, paved roads – places I recall.  I’m supposed to know this place, but it feels alien.  Describing this sense of disconnected-ness, a friend related it to time-travel and that fits except I’ve crossed cultures in the process.   Having sold my house, I am “homeless,” in a way that is both exhilarating and unsettling.  I’m incredibly blessed to have friends who have taken me into their beautiful and extremely luxurious home.  I feel lke Alice in Wonderland must have felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. It’s a strange new world: soft bed, no  mosquito net, down pillows and comforter, a bath TUB, a toilet! More importantly a toilet that doesn’t require a two-foot long mingling stick to flush …  and fridge that works full time and is stocked with things like cheese and pickles and… and… and.  I went to wash clothes and discovered twin stainless steel monoliths facing me. Adorned with control panel rivalling that of a space shuttle, blinking blue lights with 20 possible selections of how to wash I wondered it they might also orbit. Does it speak?  Well – not yet anyway.

Next, there is the car and I am allowed t drive it.  Ah! no key but a button that begs pushing. I like keys.  They make me feel safe and grounded.  Well – get over it.  This car is push button and when I do (push the button) my seat glides silently and ever-so-smoothly into exactly the right position and the car hums to into action.  Windshield wipers think for themselves and come on when it begins to sprinkle, mysteriously speeding-up and slowing-down to match both rain intensity and car speed.  Said car locks with a mere swipe of the finger…    I have to check the back seat door to convince myself it’s locked, because if I touch the driver’s door, it unlocks and we have to start the verification process all over again.  So-long to my long-standing compulsion to double check the door by pulling on it.  Foiled again.  Last night I discovered that the headlights also have a mind of their own – I had them on bright at one point and they dimmed when I was at a stoplight.

Jet lag and realty shock play strange games with the mind.  I lose things or forget where I put them moment to moment.  The storage locker I so carefully organized before I left was not quite as well ordered as I remembered.  The boxes I thought were in front so I could access them were “not there.”  Had to completely unload an 8x10 storage room to discover that a box of critical items as far from the front as they could be:  back wall – half way up.  Now I have found most of my clothes, but keep losing them in the room I’m in because—well just because.  Yesterday, I was late getting somewhere because I’d lost my underwear by putting it in alogical place that was SO logical  I couldn’t find it in my mental fog.  So now I’ve relocated the essentials  - for the moment.   I’m sure they are moving themselves around in the night.  At any rate, SOMETHING is waking me at 3:30 in the morning.  It’s the biorhythm thing and it sucks. 

I have eaten my way into the new world: Mexican food, BBQ, toast made in a real-honest-to god toaster, eggs with yellow yolks, cheese, pickles, Torche’s tacos. There are stripes down the road, stop signs and red-lights and people know what to do with them! There is a startling absence of cows, chickens and goats on the road – where are they? Bicycles don’t have live chickens handing from the handlebars and waiting to be sold.

Today it’s winter.  Last week it was summer and will be again soon, if it doesn’t snow. This must be Austin…

To exacerbate matters, I’ve suddenly become very aware of my age…  In Uganda it is revered – since most people don’t even this long!   I’ve now crossed the threshold where I can no longer pretend: I have signed up for Medicare and Social Security.  Oh what a event.  And you thought 30 was a threshold!  Well – well is all I can say.   I’ve navigated the health care minefield and am glad to say I found it to be curiously devoid of explosives.

Melt-downs are reducing in frequency.  It’s a new world for a stubbornly independent woman of a certain age to suddenly become dependent on friends for shelter, transportation and good will.  And fortunately for me I have an abundance of saints in my life who are sharing their lives, resources and especially their love and good will with me.  This makes me even more exquisitely aware of the contrast of my life here and that of my friends back in Uganda.  In Uganda, I was constantly infused with a deep sense of gratitude for “all that I have.”     All it took was stepping off the plane in the States, to instantly be sucked into the mode of awareness of “what I don’t have.”  All this in the face of the incredible generosity of friends:  I am aware that I have no job, no house, no car.  And yet, it is the very absence of those things that affords me the libert to create a new chapter.  My goal is to once again opt for a simpler life-style – one consciously chosen, not just fallen into as a result of stepping into the mainstream.  So, I’m taking some time this time – to reconnect with my friends and family and explore options.  My kids are grown and happy and self-reliant on their own paths.  So – the up side of “no job, no house, no husband” is incredible freedom to create and that is my next adventure.

It may not be Africa, but I hope it will stay fresh.  I hope to continue to be wide-eyed with discoveries and it is my full-intention to age-backwards.   One of my sons still tells his friends: “My parents are still trying to figure out what they want to be when they grow up!”    And so on that note…   I don’t know if people will be interested in the next chapter, but since even I don’t know what that will be – maybe there will be something worth reporting but I sure hope so.

Thanksgiving:  Yesterday – what a day – and so many things, foods, people and circumstances for which to be thankful.  And I am – I simply have not enough time, space or words to convey the true magnitude of this gratitude that overwhelms me to the point of tears some moments. My hosts are both professional chefs and the experience would have been stunning in any case, but coming from Uganda – it was a spiritual, orgasmic,  full-body-mind-spirit indulgence extraordinaire. 

What a season to enter upon re-entry: embarrassment of riches, of friends, opportunities and open doors.

The adventure continues but in a totally different way – rediscovering the “ordinary.”  And so may you rediscovery the ordinary to live it in a non-ordinary way… because it’s only ordinary here.  May your days be filled with tingling excitement and a sense of anticipation for moments as they unfold to remind you of the blessings in each breath.

The Last Mango Tree in Entebbe?

It’s the last day in Uganda.  “How to spend it,” was my first question – now beginning to be fully aware and a little panicked that I’ve missed something!  Well – of course I have – but most of it is too late to capture now – so I’ll have t be satisfied with small bits.  First things first – coffee! Good coffee – espresso with full-cream milk.  Do some leisurely reading since the slow rain outside has given me permission.   Lake Victoria—one of the world’s largest lakes—produces its own weather system and the sky is leaking from ominous slate grey clouds.  Hornbills are honking like Howler Monkeys. The day is off to a sloooow start – and it suits me.

Check out time is 10:00 and they’ve given me 30 minutes of grace time all of which has been lost as I have my head buried in Nevada Barr mystery coughed up by the PCV library when I offered it Bloodline in exchange.

Thinking through how I will manage a shower and a change of clothes with no room to lounge in between now and 8:30 PM when I have to leave for the airport—I  pack a confusing array of possibilities and discover that the rain has mellowed to a light sprinkle.  I zip up bags , leave them in a corner and head out to the zoo and 30 minute walk away.

Arriving at the zoo on the shore of Lake Victoria, I notice an even more ominous cloud line hugging the horizon and hope I will at least a) beat the huge and eager group of primary school kids trying to behave so they can get into the zoo and b) visit the chimps before it starts raining again.  The kids are pretty cute—little ones, all decked out in their red school shirts and arranged in a shuffling group with littlest ones in front and taller ones toward the back.  So I pick up the pace and make it just in time.

Wandering through the place, I’m reminded again of our first visit and how disappointed I was in what it had to offer and now appreciating the rather casual approach of “housing” animals in natural and unpretentious habitat areas with motes of water and minimal fencing.  I pass the zebras and Boks and some funny looking beared deer and hear a crowd of kids and chimps screeching.  Hard to tell which is which and who is exciting whom.  I found a group of adults (chimps that is) scattered on the other side of the water, just having been fed and protectively guarding their own hordes of fruit.  One large male teetering at the water’s edge (they HATE water) caught my attention as he tries to puzzle out how to retrieve a fat red apple bobbing up and down about 10 feet out of reach.

Not to be deterred or denied his treat, he grabs a piece of bamboo and starts slapping at the apple and pulling the bamboo toward him.  Not working…  He surveys the possibilities and latches onto a dead branch and carefully pulls the apple to the edge and chows down. Finishing that one, he heads for another – starting again with bamboo, throwing that one down and examines a waterlogged piece of wood—discarding it. Searching for the last tool that worked he picked the branch again and I’m thinkin’ this is a pretty clever chimp. I wonder about the evolutionary chain…

Later:  now back at the motel having hiked back in a sprinkling rain and sitting under a Mango tree with branches loaded with fist size fruit that’ll be ready for the picking in about a month.   The rain is back – and I want a nap – but figure there will be 20 or so hours of that. My feet have not seen anything but sandals in two years and are not happy with being shoved back into “real shoes.” I’ve had to leave the sandals behind – they were good soldiers – repaired numerous times to hold together until…. 

We are now at “until” and I had room for two pairs of shoes and those have to accommodate fall and winter weather.  So one box of Band-Aids and a roll of medical tape later I’m hoping that I can get to Austin without having to go altogether barefoot because of all the blisters. 

S-i-x    m-o-r-e    h-o-u-r-s

Now FOUR hours later and several more chapters of Nevada Barr,  I have been graced with an unoccupied room in which to shower.  Bless these lovely girls who have taken mercy on me.  I am filled with African Tea—a comforting mixture of whole milk boiled with fresh ginger and a bay leaf, then poured over tea bags.  Heavenly.

By the time you read this I’ll be tucked into seat 21K on my way to Brussels and dreaming of Mexican food but eating airplane food – better these days than it used to be.  Hoping for something tasty and some movies I’ve never seen.  well – that last part shouldn’t be hard…

Almost.....

Well - I'm almost there - relatively speaking.  After 28 months, what's another  two days? Right?  Left Gulu amid a flurry of last minute activity - two days of goodbyes, giving things away, packing and re-packing.  Had a small congratulations party for Peter for finishing his PLE exams and blessedly got a ride to Kampala and avoided the bus!  Made it in a record 6 hours!

The Saturday before leaving my LABE friends gave me a beautiful going away party that was so thoughtfully put together I was deeply honored and moved.   They are dear friends and it's not real yet that I won't see them again - unless I somehow made it back to Uganda...  It is completely surreal to think that I've created a life here and in two days life will shift dramatically and I'll have running water and lights on demand, not to mention all the hubbub that goes with re-entry and the excitement of seeing old friends.  I'm excited to be coming home but part of my heart will always be here. And I think that's as it should be.

There have been many re-turns to places I started.  My going-away party was at Happy Nest Motel, where I stayed when I first came to site visit 27 month ago.  And on the way out I'm saying in the same room, in the same hotel in Entebbe where the kids and I stayed when they came to visit.  When I walked in, the staff said "welcome back," and I was surprised they remembered.  But that's the way Ugandans are -   they remember.  One night here to unwind after two days of signing out at PC HQ.

I've yet to process all this. I've simply been going through check lists to get everything in order before leaving.   That's a bit frustrating, because I know some of that  has numbed me from being fully present with people I am leaving.  Some, no doubt, was self-protection, because leaving here feels enormous and while there are frustrations I will not miss, there is gentleness,  authenticity and caring that tug at the heart..  Hopefully, I can hold on to some of that in the way I live life in a more complicated world.  

I feel like I'll have to learn to speak regular English again - I've been speaking Uganglish for so  long.  So those of you who will see me in the flesh, just bear with me when I ask, "What food is there,"   And "He didn't do what?  and... and... and...   And kindly remind me I don't have to take everything I own with me when I walk out the door - no need for TP, hand sanitizer, umbrella, flashlight,  book (for waiting...) etc.

Re: return time: enough people have indicated I'm coming home on Saturday - I actually had to check my ticket.  I AM flying OUT on Saturday midnight, but won't arrive for another 20 hours: Uganda - Brussels - Newark - Austin:  at 6:18 SUNDAY United.  

OK - I'm rambling, rather distracted,  mentally cluttered and W-A-I-T-I-N-G.   Time to close.

Texas here I come! Almost...

Fixin' to Get Ready -

As I began writing this, the power was off and I sat in an almost empty house in the soft glow of candlelight. It’s a memory I’ll have forever.  To keep it from getting spooky, I spaced tea-candles in the hall offering little puddles of light from living room to bedroom.  I loved it! And then the scene repeated itself so often over the week that I ran out of tapers, then tea lights, then batteries...  Finally, as my neighbor seemed to have power, I checked with the landlord and we once again jiggled the wire the power department saw fit to install after they removed a fuse.  You just have to be willing to take the risk of electrocution to get the lights to come back on.    I now revel in having power and have everything I own plugged in. 

As time  comes to a close here n Gulu it’s a bit surreal.  The house feels like a shell and is essentially empty except for the basic pieces of furniture.  All the artwork is down, crafts packed.  Knowing me as many of you do, I packed the arts crafts and mementos first and those things the kids gave me to make life comfy here: battery chargers, Life Save Water Bottle, Steri-pen, solar charger.. I continued to be one of the best prepared PCV’s in country – thanks again to the forward thinking of my kids. 

Naively I thought I had only one suitcase of treasures.  Well – the joke was/is on me.  Two 40lb bags later, I realized that packing to leave is actually more complicated than packing to get here and for one simple reason:  things I forgot from home could be (and were) mailed to me and – I knew I would return to the States and the family and friends.

Leaving here, I realize it’s entirely possible I won’t return – or at least not for years.  And – as is my nature – I want to take every morsel of memory back with me.  And it appears I’m doing just that.  So – pack-unpack-repack repeat.

Mentally, I'm somewhere else.  Physically, I’m here doing what I need to do to leave.  Part of that equation is Peter and setting up a really functional and caring support network for him when I’m gone and one that can manage his continuation in school assuming his grades on his Primary Leaving Exams allow that.  Since we won’t really know that until January, things will have to move fast because school starts again on February and the group will have to find him a school and one I can fund.  Peter certainly had good people in his life before I arrived on the scene and they will be the constants in his life when I leave.  The challenge has been convincing Peter of that life will move forward, but slowly-by-slowly as the expression goes that is happening.  We gathered in the office of the DRDC (Deputy Residential Regional Commissioner) who has been so instrumental in helping Peter when problems have come up.  It’s amazing the people Peter has gathered around him – how a street kid can become friends with and befriended by high district officials, the police, pastors and others.  But it was through Peter that I began to know most of Gulu!  Anyway – that network is in place and that feels good for all of us.

I met a young woman who is here working with Educate for Change and she's taking over the house making the task of finding places for all the furniture a lot easier.  She’s also helping with Peter.  So things are falling into place. The universe works in amazing ways.

My LABE friends here are wonderful and they have just this week moved into the larger offices promised a year ago, but still have no power or water.  This is an office we're talking about - no copier, internet, lights, etc.   The library project however, seems to be in hands that will work to continue its growth and that’s satisfying.

I spent the weekend saying goodbye to friends I’ve served with and a curious thing in happening.  One volunteer I really like met Travis and Brett and will probably connect with Travis in Florida to go cave diving.  A Ugandan friend who left while I was traveling, turns out to be in Dallas now working as a CPA.  We’ll get to visit when he comes to see friends who have a house in the Austin hill country!    Another RPCV who is working here with a social-enterprise group also left while I was traveling, but is going to be in Austin the day after I arrive! So we’ll also see each other.  The world keeps getting smaller and I like it.

Today was spent delivering gifts to people who have made such an impact on my life here and I am so touched by their responses to my leaving.     It's a bag full of mixed emotions  and as time draws near - 12 days left in Gulu - my emotions careen from heavyhearted to downright giddy and everything in between. I'm teary one moment excited and visualizing myself stepping off that plane in Austin the next.  I've been warned that this roller-coaster will continue and get even worse when I'm actually back in the States.   You are forwarned! 

By the way – arriving home on Nov. 10 via United Airlines at 6:18!!!!!   I'm not sure if I'll kiss the ground first or eat at Chuys!

The Finger and the Blade Master

The Broken Digit

 

Ordinarily, one wouldn’t bother to write a blog about a broken finger.  There are plenty of worse things and more interesting, but I think you’ll enjoy or possibly gasp some of this. let me say though - up front - that the actual doctors involved in this were excellent: professional, caring and with a good sense of humor.  So Dr.  Ronald - if you're reading this know that you  and your team were great.  But someone needs to invest in a ring cutter of the non-saw-wielding kind. 

In the Beginning:

It was the second day of Safari when it happened.  Could have happened to anyone – and frankly I’m REALLY glad it happened to me instead of one of the kids.  We were all unfolding from the 4X4 – wild animals called – and we answered.  I had my hand in the door frame pulling myself forward from the rear seat of the Prada and seem to remember the driver commanding: “Shut the door!”  And so – the door was shut.  Thank god it was not a Mercedes of one of those other heavy, air-tight doors.  My whole hand would have been toast – or more aptly – crumbs or mush.  But this was an old and well used SUV and the doors were not so heavy nor so tight.  And this – as Martha Stewart would say – “is a good thing.”  It was a bit before anyone else realized what had happened and my hand stayed shut in the slammed door. 

Well – nothin’ to do after the scream but get out and see animals – although I have no memory of what they were.   This is Africa – no ice for swelling.  No Minor Emergency Clinic around the corner.  It was three days before we made it back to Gulu and the possibility of help.  As a good friend told his wife some years ago: “Just wrap it and go (he’s learned to regret that …)  and so we did.  I had a ring on that finger – a nice silver thing made in Ethiopia.  The finger swelled to look like a purple sausage…  Brett – traveling as always with a medical kit, devised a dandy splint and we wrapped it.  At any restaurant with ice (a rarity in these parts) we got a bag and put it around the finger.  Damn! It was my “shootin’ the bird finger!”   It’s a rather obvious finger to have wrapped and even here people know what that means and look a little askance at this white woman who seems to be making an obscene gesture – and has the audacity to wrap it in white. .  It’s not intentional – really.

Anyway – moving forward…  I called PC Medical and they called the best hospital in Gulu to see if they had/have a ring cutter – standard for any trauma or emergency center. “It is not there - but we have a man who works in the metal shop and he can cut if off under a doctor’s supervision.”  Oh Jeeze – the combination of words metal shop – cut off under supervision was making me sweat.  So we four canvassed Gulu for a pair of wire cutting dikes.  No – no such thing in Gulu.   OK – still weren’t  sure whether it  was just a nasty smash job or a break.  So we fell upon an “X-Ray and Imaging Studio”  on the second floor of a building accessed by a perilously shaky winding metal staircase leading to a balcony/walkway with no railing.  (I’m developing a better appreciation for US building codes.) I went up while the other three continue to look for a pair of dikes.    As luck would have it, while I was there I ran into the Sociopathic Head Teacher from Peter’s school - you remember the SHT?  Is there no mercy?  Well – I have broken the appropriate finger it appears.

I was ushered into a small, dreary back room, seated next to an X-Ray machine from somewhere back in the 50’s and several pictures were taken.  No protective shielding for me – 6” away, but the lab-tech left the room…  They were developed fairly quickly and I paid less than $10 US for what in the States would have been in the hundreds.   The digit was broken for sure and interesting looking bifurcated break.  How to get that ring off?

We got a private hire to the hospital and the day was getting toward afternoon.  We piled out of  the car and headed for the Casualty Department and the doctor who had been called was in surgery, so I was left to find the metal worker and negotiate the removal of the ring.  And this is where the comedy began.  You can’t make this stuff up.   And this was the sign outside the hospital the waiting area of the hospital.   I like this.

The Blade Master:

We were intercepted by a nurse to whom I told my story and suggested she might want to locate the ring-cutter soon to be known as The Blade Master.  She sent someone to the metal-working-shop and we waited outside.  Soon, a middle aged Italian man drove up in his truck, about to leave the hospital – it was  closing time, but we chatted.  He was large, boasting several days of white stubble, mischievous twinkling eyes, a  display of large fuzzy, yellow teeth and a shirt straining at the stomach.  Nothing wrong with any of  this, but not a comforting for someone who is about to cut your finger off with a saw. Oops - did I say that - I meant cut your ring off - not finger - no - not finger.

The man grinned and announced “I haf dooone eeet… using saw – don’t woorrrry!”  I WAS worried so asked how many times he had done this and he said “at least four or fiffe times.” And with what I considered a wantonly sadistic gleam in his eye, he  offered, “I haf  cut riiinggs not just frrrom feenger…!”  Asking what else had he cut rings from he said – a little too excitedly and with a deep chortle– “from peenises.”   He thought this was pretty funny and in retrospect it was downright hysterical but I’m sure  I heard several men behind me passing out.  

He left to get his equipment – and returned full of enthusiasm walking down the road toward me holding a 12” long electric rotary saw  (a router?) over his head like he the  &%#$ Statue of Liberty.  In my freaked out state, he appeared  entirely too happy about this.  There was a long cord dangling - no plug, just raw wires to stick into the outlet – meaning it could stop in mid cut… Erase any image you may have of those nice lady-like Dremel tools.   This thing was BIG with a 6" circular blade  -  rusty - well nicked.   Tim the Tool Man would have been proud.

My innards were beginning to roil as we were ushered to a treatment room where the man happily stuck the wires into a socket and turned the saw on – full squeal (the saw – not me – yet) and moved toward me – still with the twinkle in his eye – and reaching for my arm.   This man is jolly and obviously loves his work.  Me - not so much. 

A group was beginning to form as all of us gasped in horror and began to pull away from the saw, explaining loudly that he not getting near my hand with that saw.  This was pretty much the conversation:

Blade Master (BM):   “Don’t worry. You not move – no problem.”

Me: "It’s not YOUR hand."

BM: “You too anxious. Someone hold her down.”

Travis and Brett:  “You have to protect the knuckles.”

BM: "If she not move – no worry."  I sense that this man is very good at making and repairing all things metal, an expert in fact - but my finger is not metal

Me again:  "Your blade (did I say it was a 6" blade?)  is bigger than my hand and wider than my knuckles… what if it slips?”
BM - Broad grin: "No worries - if it slips - we're in hospital!"  Hahahahah

BM: “Give her drugs maybe… zanax,” but I'm thinking they're gonna have to chloroform me to get any closer with that blade...

Brett: "The safer you make this, the less you have to worry about her moving.”

BM: Grabs my arm – puts it on the table: “You just hold her.”     whirrrrrrr

Travis: “Alright everyone quiet!  Conference – outside. You - turn off the saw."

There are now six people in the room, including two Ugandan staff are frantically trying to find things to protect the knuckles and have come up with flat metal pieces to guard the rest of the hand.  Molly has left the room – feeling a bit faint at this point. 

Me: “You have a metal shop – right? You cut wires? Yes?  Go get some metal cutting dikes – now-now. This ring is silver – soft metal – dikes will work.”

BM - crestfallen: “Saw will work – you too anxious! That ring stainless – dikes not work - but we try.”  He left muttering but returned with two sets of dikes and a hacksaw. 

The smallest pair of dikes and a strong hand did the trick. The Blade Master left shaking his head over this bunch of weenies.  Wish we’d filmed this – but abject terror kinda puts the lid on creativity – especially when the photographer was getting nauseous ;-)  I think Molly got a picture of me with him the next day.  He was a good sport - asked if we had another ring to saw off. 

Great Doctors

Next day: no setting of the finger yesterday.  By the time we got the ring off everyone had left and the doctor was still in surgery but called me at home to apologize.  Really nice man - would never happen in the States.

I was met the next morning by the Dr. Ronald Okidi, the doctor PC had called.   Lovely man – he walked me through all of the paper work – short-cutting the process by hours and we were escorted into a surgical room.  Again – this would not have happened in the US.  Very personal treatment.

Everyone was allowed to stay and somewhat of a party atmosphere filled the air out of pure nervousness.  Pictures were taken…  These guys are very professional and gave me the requisite shots to eliminate any possibility of my feeling anything while they worked on the hand.  The shots were hideous I have to say and there were a lot of them.  But I had impressed upon the PC doctor who relayed the information to this doctor that I did not want to feel pain. 

Well – the broken bones in the finger had already begun to fuse  and I’ve never seem so many un-natural movements of a finger, but by that time I was feeling no pain.   Six or so x-rays later, it was clear that this finger was not going to budge and so they re-splinted it and gave me some nice little red pills for pain later.  Surprisingly, there was very little.  The knuckles are intact and I think I’ll get full range of motion with the finger someday but right now it’s still a little sausage like and the tip dips down like it’s embarrassed.

The entire bill from “soup to nuts” was  just about 200,000sh – less than $100 US dollars. 

The experience with the Blade Master – priceless.

In relaying the Blade Master story to a friend, she jokingly suggested maybe they wanted the finger for a witchcraft ritual and sent me this link: http://www.newvision.co.ug/news/648018--i-believe-my-brother-was-eaten.html

Read at your own risk – a little cannibalism goes a long way. You can always rely on your friends to make you feel better.

Safari!

Started on September 23...

Perched in a cushioned blocky wooden chair on the front porch of Carpe Diem Guesthouse overlooking Lake Victoria in Entebbe, it’s 7-ish on a cool, misty morning as I drain my cup of French press coffee.  Birds twitter and there’s an occasional rooster down below.  Every once is a while a Hornbill flies overhead cackling raucously at the world below.  They are so noisy and obnoxious that people have been known to cut down trees to keep them from roosting nearby and they’re loud enough to drown out any competitor. I'm back to "just me," but with fresh memories of a beautiful three weeksTravis, Brett and Brett's girl friend, Molly.

They flew out last night and I’m glad we waited until almost the end of my time here to have our visit, because it would have been even more dreadful to put them on a plane had I much more time left in country.    They got the full Uganda treatment with the exception of taking public transport.  Thank God for that – because even private pushed the limits of most sane peolpe.

I picked them (as the Ugandans say) from the airport September 4^th and we spent the first night in Entebbe. It was pure magic seeing them arrive that night and the beginning of a dream come true.  I’ve been on a countdown for the last 6 months! And I have to say they looked spectacular even exhausted after 24 hours of travel.  So we hit the hotel and got down to the business of beer pretty fast.  Then their first run at mosquito nets.

The next day we got a hire back into Kampala via  a detour to tour an organic farm and bio-gas installation. Although that was Brett’s idea, it was a great introduction to Uganda for everyone else and sparked a lot of conversation about sustainability of resources and life in Uganda for the rest of the trip.  It gave real-world significance to the Heifer Project.  (Check it out if you're looking for a different way to do Christmas and want to change a life.)  We met some new friends (see below), collected some seeds, and saw how the manure from two cows provides cooking gas and lights for this whole installation.  Cool...

New friend

The next night they were introduced to my life away from home by staying at the Annex, sharing a shower, bath and city noise.   Figured I should so this gently before they hit Gulu - after all there was still hot water...  Moses, our intrepid Language trainer and tour operator picked us on time at 6AM the next morning and we set off to see the wilds of Africa – starting with a some baboons along the road and a family of five Rhinos at Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary and moving on to chimps later in the day. 

Yep - we're really that close

 What a gift it was to see Uganda through the fresh eyes of those not jaded by too many “it-is-finished-spoiled-not-there” explanations for almost everything. It was a loooong day.  We hit the top of the falls at Murcheson Falls in late afternoon to gape at the Nile as it tumbles and plunges 65 feet through a 6-foot crevice and into what’s know as the Albert Nile.  Spectacular to say the least.  Think we won't be rafting this one.

Chimp - watching is watch him

 

Top-of-the-Falls

I’m glad we had a stellar day, because by the time we arrived at our grim lodging for the night we were almost too tired to care.  I had to let go f the idea of a "gentle" introduction to the realities of Uganda...  This place made the Annex look like Four Seasons.  The cold water hand-held wand-shower was barely a dribble, none of the fans worked, only one outlet worked to charge multiple cameras and phones and stomach trouble had found some of us already. I’d been informed that the place was “nice,” so it was a rather rude shock – and this from someone who's lived here for two years and is "used" as they say. 

Someone had put an almost empty beer bottle on a counter as we entered the place and before we could get back to the door to get the rest of our luggage a Goliath-sized cockroach already had its butt in the air as it peeked head first into the bottle.   Brett put a    It take a long time to full a hippo.  This portion of the Nile is hippo-central: they laze around in cool  water during the day and waddle out to eat about 88 lbs of grass at night.

The next day, somewhere during the excitement of people piling out of the car to see wild-things my hand was slammed in the car door, breaking the middle finger, but more on that later.  It was it own adventure worthy of another blog installation.   How I managed to break only that particular finger I don't know - the whole hand was in the door.  I'm just lucky that way I guess...

After that bit of excitement on the heels of the first night in the little house of horrors, we opted for some luxury the following night.   The kids had hit the jet-lag wall and come into full contact with heat, dust, bugs and – the realities of travel in the third world and none of us were in the mood for a possible repeat of the roach hotel.   We'd spent a wonderful afternoon (in equatorial sun...) on a barge cruising up the Nile and watched a man catch the biggest fish (Nile Perch) I've ever seen in fresh water.  Paraa Lodge was right up the road offering good food, pools, cold beer, full-time electricity, hot water and ice for the finger.  We went over budget and took it!  Aaaahhhh...

It had rained during the night, so the next morning offered everyone first hand experience with the roads I've been complaining about for two years.  We watched as a big army truck nearly  fell over and had to get pretty creative to get our own 4X4 out of the mire.  The next two days were full tilt (no pun intended) as we rode on the top of the vehicle to see everything the park had to offer:  Boks, water buffalo rooting in a deep mud-bog, 
 

Mud Monster

wart-hogs prancing with their prissy flag-like tails, giraffes (including a rare siting of a mama nursing her baby), elephants,  and an amazing close-up-viewing of a lion stalking a huge herd of Boks, their defensive maneuvers rivaling the most sophisticated choreography.  No kill - she lost interest and walked leisurely up the road in front of  four safari vehicles and wide eyed tourists any of which she could have had for lunch.

The park was truly spectacular though marred a bit by new oil drilling which has begun to disturb the elephants. Our sightings were distant and we searched to the bitter end to find their new haunts, but they had moved deeper into the wild areas and away from the new oil-company roads.  On the way back to Gulu though we had a great surprise when we whizzed by a big bull munching on a bluff two feet from the road.  It happened so fast, we asked our driver to back up, which he did slowly and reluctantly, because elephants are famous for charging and crumpling vehicles that startle them.  By the time we crept back, he was long gone, but to get that close was still a thrill and all-in-all our Safari was a complete success.

If you'd like to see the pictures posted thus far,  go to my face book page.  More will come later.  And stay tuned for the "Mad Italian with the Electric Saw."  You can't make that stuff up...

Keeping Girls in School

"Defiling pupil is a crime"

This is not a blog I would have thought of writing earlier, but a lot of topics we would consider taboo in the States are just part of the fabric of life here. Even though it's OK to show Milie Cyrus gyrating on stage and we think nothing of violence on TV or making sexist jokes about PMS - we are still squeamish about having the talk with our kids, mentioning menstrual issues in mixed company except derisively, offering honest sex-education in schools and allowing pictures of breast feeding on FB and TV.  Here, such conversations are necessary:  HIV prevention, HIV testing and how to put a condom on a 9" wooden penis are de rigueur, as is the posting of school signs about avoiding sexual predators.  These are a FEW posted around the school we went to.  Keep in mind that this is an elementary school.

 

"Avoid sugar mummies and sugar daddies"

In a country where education is so dramatically impacted by HIV/Aids (both teachers and children), the forced marriage of barely pubescent girls and a 50% school drop out rate for girls who don’t have the money to buy menstrual products,  well … the rules change.

"Virginity is healthy"

Working with LABE has given me an inside view of the sorry state of education – or the lack thereof – here.  Since I’ve been invited to and have written a few articles on the impact of all of the above topics for a Human Rights magazine, I’ve had to do some interesting research.  One of the figures that comes up repeatedly has to do with catalysts that cause young girls to drop out of school.  The greatest toll comes when girls hit puberty - as early as 4^th grade.  The first hit is taken because there are not separate facilities for girls and boys at school.  This is not like some countries where you have unisex bathrooms (and that would not usually occur in schools);  here it translates into filthy latrines with no doors. So one push in schools that receive any outside funding for projects is to require separate facilities.

The other precipitous drop in attendance comes when girls quit school because they have no feminine hygiene supplies and while the conservative rate is 50%, it ranges upwards to 75%.  At the very least they miss one week/month and at worst, drop out of school all together because they are embarrassed.  This exposes them to even more serious issues, because they will have no skills to earn survival money except to sell their bodies or fall victim to early marriage. 

A good road to the village

So, last week, Joy (LABE) and I drove out to one of the schools to teach the girls  how to make re-usable menstrual pads or RUMPS. Reusable? Huh?  Something you never thought of in the States - right?   Although there are commercially made kits (AfriPads - factory near Kampala))  that sell for about $5 wholesale for a set that will last a girl about a year, they are only recently reaching the north and even that cost is out of reach for most families. It is especially so young girls who have no way to earn any money.

   
At some schools, supplies are given to the girls on an emergency basis, but that’s rare.  So we are teaching them how to make them from old clothing, towels and sheets.  Often, in the village,  there are no sheets, because there are no beds – people sleep on papyrus mats on the floor.

Cleaning the classroom

So far, we've we taught about 150 girls and some parents.  I made kits for about half of those using the supplies you all have sent and old materials I had on hand. We’ve given the others the patterns and instruction and have convinced some hotels to give us old sheets we can make into supplies.   I doubt if American girls have ever given this much thought, but these  girls and their families were excited because  this ONE thing has such a huge impact on their staying in school.

Joy teaching on the mat.

Here are some pictures from the class we taught at a school in the village.   As with so many things, the class was taught under a tree, this one a huge fig tree though the fruit wasn't edible.  The girls had to clean the ground under the tree before they would set up the “class room.”  They moved their solid bench seat-desks that accommodate 4-5 girls under the tree and Joy and I sat on papyrus mats to teach the class.

Busy sewing

We had to chase away a gaggle of younger girls and boys to keep some order in the "classroom" but the girls were serious and good students, arranged in their circle of mahogany desks and sharing kits.  Obviously these are hand stitched so there was some sewing instruction too.  An interesting note, when they first moved the desks, they were practically sitting on top of each other - their accustomed practice.  They had to be encouraged to sit farther apart to have room to work.  And yes - this IS farther apart.

Finished product

One  perk of going to the field is that there are always other sights and insights, i.e. this very business-like little girl with the jerry-can on her head. Kids start hauling water at a very young age and when you see women balancing huge loads on their heads, you know those neck muscles and the ability to walk straight and balance these loads comes with a lifetime of practice.   Below, this little girl can't be older than about three and she's already an expert.  In the villages, it's not the least bit unusual to see a five year old carrying an infant on his/her back or something atop the head and walking on the road alone, often at night, jumping into the grass when cars come barreling along.

Tiny girl carrying her jerry can

 And then there's the teacher's "lounge" or staff room, here complete with a young chicken trying to get away from the chaos of kids waiting for the end of term assembly    The kids will have until mid September, then be released again in November.

A chicken seeking refuge?

Staff room

And finally, a game of checkers on a locally made checker board. This one is pretty fancy.  Checkers is a popular game, usually using beers bottle caps for checkers.  This one is definitely high end.

A serious game of checkers

This was a fine wrap up to the week before heading to Kampala to train some staff and meet the kids on Wednesday in Entebbe.  Can hardly contain myself I'm so excited to see them. It will be a kick to experience Uganda through their eyes!