The Hard Road
I’m just full of the sadness right now…
There’s a BBC News Documentary about the current election violence in Zimbabwe, which just makes me crazy – how can anyone in the world think that this could possibly be okay – how can other African leaders not be screaming and jumping up and down? How can Mugabe look at himself in the mirror? Such evil. And to stop all the NGO work – my NGO was supposed to distribute food to 400,000 people this month – what are those 400,000 people eating right now? Aurgh – shouldn’t dwell on it – I’ll just become more furious.
I went to the burial of a nine-month old girl last week. Shalom was adorable – with chubby, chubby cheeks and curly hair. She would grab my little finger and hang on so tightly – I last saw her a week before she died and had to prise her little fingers off mine – I now wish I had just kept hanging on forever. She was the daughter of a colleague – a wonderful man who was shot by the LRA rebels in 2002 (I met him the first time I came here, just after he was released from hospital) whilst driving for us, and yet still does his work. Richard has a gentle heart, a fabulous work ethic and a wicked sense of humour. He and his wife also have a four year old boy – a rambunctious little fellow called Solomon. Since Shalom was born, every time I would ask after her, Richard’s eyes would light up and he would tell me her latest development – she was smiling, rolling over, sitting up – all those wonderful things babies do as they grow. But then, when I was in Gulu last December (for the burial of another colleague’s 29 year old wife), Richard was at the hospital with Shalom. She was having problems with her liver. For the next six months, Shalom was in and out of doctors and hospitals – she eventually came down to Kampala for treatment, and then we managed to get her to Nairobi to try to help. So many people fought to save this little girl, but eventually, she died in her mothers arms last Tuesday…"waiting for the doctor”. I wonder how many people in Africa die while waiting for the doctor?
I drove to Gulu (the biggest town in northern Uganda – the base of northern operations for most NGOs, as well as the army’s base for its war against the rebels – about six hours drive north of Kampala) for the burial with Peter, another driver who used to be based in Gulu. He has children of similar ages to Richards’, and was telling me that there have been times when he and Richard have both been in hospital with their children near death. I was thinking about this during the burial service and realising what a tremendous accomplishment it is for all the adults in this country – just to have made it to adulthood. It is something we would never even think about at home, but to even just stay alive is a great accomplishment.
Of course, once you hit adulthood, you aren’t necessarily going to have smooth sailing. The ravage of AIDS here, let alone other diseases, is staggering – what we read about as abstract facts in newspapers, is real flesh and blood. I have a friend who has already buried three siblings from AIDS and is caring for their children now (all but one is completely orphaned – one boy still has his mother). He was telling me that he went back his village a few weeks ago for the burial of another brother, only to arrive and find him still breathing. He packed him in the car, brought him to Kampala and got him treatment, back on the anti-retrovirals and the brother is now walking again.
The constant presence of death overshadows life in Africa. Staff are constantly going to burials – most staff would bury a relative (taking into consideration the much larger size of the families here) every month or two, and then when you consider friends and colleagues, much of one’s time is spent at burials. I have only been to two in my time in Uganda (although that is two more than the number of weddings I have made it to) and have been harshly reminded of how less sanitised death is here – the services are conducted under trees in the village (in both cases, next to the burned-out remnants of houses destroyed by the rebels) right next to the coffins. When we buried Joyce, her mother started screaming and throwing herself onto the coffin – she had to be carried away and passed out. And then after the service, everyone gives speeches, and the local dignitaries decided this would be a good opportunity to do some campaigning!! Blew my mind a little.
I apologise for the excessive absence – I have just been working and working – almost all I do nowadays is work and sleep, with the occasional self-indulgent window for eating and personal hygiene. Okay – I exaggerate a little – I did make time to see the Sex and the City Movie twice (I have my priorities in order) which was lots of fun. All this is about to change however – I’m about to embark on a fair bit of travel, in Africa and then in Europe.
There’s a BBC News Documentary about the current election violence in Zimbabwe, which just makes me crazy – how can anyone in the world think that this could possibly be okay – how can other African leaders not be screaming and jumping up and down? How can Mugabe look at himself in the mirror? Such evil. And to stop all the NGO work – my NGO was supposed to distribute food to 400,000 people this month – what are those 400,000 people eating right now? Aurgh – shouldn’t dwell on it – I’ll just become more furious.
I went to the burial of a nine-month old girl last week. Shalom was adorable – with chubby, chubby cheeks and curly hair. She would grab my little finger and hang on so tightly – I last saw her a week before she died and had to prise her little fingers off mine – I now wish I had just kept hanging on forever. She was the daughter of a colleague – a wonderful man who was shot by the LRA rebels in 2002 (I met him the first time I came here, just after he was released from hospital) whilst driving for us, and yet still does his work. Richard has a gentle heart, a fabulous work ethic and a wicked sense of humour. He and his wife also have a four year old boy – a rambunctious little fellow called Solomon. Since Shalom was born, every time I would ask after her, Richard’s eyes would light up and he would tell me her latest development – she was smiling, rolling over, sitting up – all those wonderful things babies do as they grow. But then, when I was in Gulu last December (for the burial of another colleague’s 29 year old wife), Richard was at the hospital with Shalom. She was having problems with her liver. For the next six months, Shalom was in and out of doctors and hospitals – she eventually came down to Kampala for treatment, and then we managed to get her to Nairobi to try to help. So many people fought to save this little girl, but eventually, she died in her mothers arms last Tuesday…"waiting for the doctor”. I wonder how many people in Africa die while waiting for the doctor?
I drove to Gulu (the biggest town in northern Uganda – the base of northern operations for most NGOs, as well as the army’s base for its war against the rebels – about six hours drive north of Kampala) for the burial with Peter, another driver who used to be based in Gulu. He has children of similar ages to Richards’, and was telling me that there have been times when he and Richard have both been in hospital with their children near death. I was thinking about this during the burial service and realising what a tremendous accomplishment it is for all the adults in this country – just to have made it to adulthood. It is something we would never even think about at home, but to even just stay alive is a great accomplishment.
Of course, once you hit adulthood, you aren’t necessarily going to have smooth sailing. The ravage of AIDS here, let alone other diseases, is staggering – what we read about as abstract facts in newspapers, is real flesh and blood. I have a friend who has already buried three siblings from AIDS and is caring for their children now (all but one is completely orphaned – one boy still has his mother). He was telling me that he went back his village a few weeks ago for the burial of another brother, only to arrive and find him still breathing. He packed him in the car, brought him to Kampala and got him treatment, back on the anti-retrovirals and the brother is now walking again.
The constant presence of death overshadows life in Africa. Staff are constantly going to burials – most staff would bury a relative (taking into consideration the much larger size of the families here) every month or two, and then when you consider friends and colleagues, much of one’s time is spent at burials. I have only been to two in my time in Uganda (although that is two more than the number of weddings I have made it to) and have been harshly reminded of how less sanitised death is here – the services are conducted under trees in the village (in both cases, next to the burned-out remnants of houses destroyed by the rebels) right next to the coffins. When we buried Joyce, her mother started screaming and throwing herself onto the coffin – she had to be carried away and passed out. And then after the service, everyone gives speeches, and the local dignitaries decided this would be a good opportunity to do some campaigning!! Blew my mind a little.
I apologise for the excessive absence – I have just been working and working – almost all I do nowadays is work and sleep, with the occasional self-indulgent window for eating and personal hygiene. Okay – I exaggerate a little – I did make time to see the Sex and the City Movie twice (I have my priorities in order) which was lots of fun. All this is about to change however – I’m about to embark on a fair bit of travel, in Africa and then in Europe.
posted by Kate | 1:00 am
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