snapshots of uganda: 2

this is Mercy. she lives in Namatala and goes to Child of Hope Primary School.

Namatala is the biggest slum in Mbale and one of the biggest slums in all of Uganda. Child of Hope serves only one section of the slum. They educate one child from each family in hopes of improving the overall education of that family. Child of Hope also teaches families (mothers especially) income generating activities (IGA's), as well as health care practices. i had the opportunity to work with Child of Hope many times this summer.

[back to Mercy]
whenever i went to Child of Hope, Mercy was one of the first children to run up and hug me [they all would run and pretty much tackle you]. she would play hand clapping games with me. she was always happy. she always had a smile on her face and was excited to see me. she made me feel so loved. on my last day in Namatala I went to Child of Hope and found that Mercy was not feeling well. I sincerely hope she recovered quickly and did not have malaria! she is a ray of sunshine in the midst of poverty. i have great hopes for her future! love you Mercy!

snapshots of uganda: 1

we met this little Somalian girls at Lion's Children's Park while we were running the Blood Drive. there is a horrific famine in Somalia right now, not to include political unrest, which has resulted in millions from Somalia seeking refuge in neighboring countries. since it was Ramadan (a Muslim holiday where they fast from sun up to sun down every day for a month or so) there were many Somalian Muslim's living in Mbale.

these cute girls came up and started dancing to the music we had going and pretty soon we joined in! (Somalians are different from Ugandans in that they are taller, skinnier and usually lighter skinned. the men, especially have defining features.) it was so fun dancing with these girls! they didn't speak any English and we didn't speak Somali. But that's the great thing about Africa- you don't need words to speak volumes.

what i remember from this experience is that these girls were so happy! they loved life. yet, they were refugees. they had no home. i fell in love with their smiles and enthusiasm. 

since being home and reading more about the famine and hard ships in Somalia, i wish i could go back right now. go to Somalia. and in some way relieve the poverty in some way. 

someday i will go.

until then i will never forget these happy, dancing refugees. 

snapshots of uganda

since we all know my heart is still in uganda, i have decided that periodically i will write a post about someone i met there- american, ugandan, etc.  by doing this i hope to keep the flame burning in me so that i don't forget why i did what i did there and the impact it had on my life. i also hope to maybe inspire others to go out and do something good- for anyone, anywhere.

one month

I have been home for one month. weird! it really seems like just yesterday that i was here:

with these lovely people:

how time flies! when i first got home i really hated it. i cried when i left Uganda and I cried almost every day for the first week i was back in utah. i'm more used to it now. i don't cry about africa. but i do miss it. there is one thing i do NOT want to do. i don't want to forget the experience! sometimes we have amazing experiences, and then we forget about them after a year or two. i promise i will not do that. going to Uganda changed me. mostly for the better. i am more confident. more headstrong. more humble. less judgmental. a better communicator. i understand development work- somewhat. i lived in a third world country for 18 weeks! at first it was really hard. but by the time i left, it was horrible leaving. i think part of my heart will always be in Africa. where do i want to go next? Somalia!

these little somalian refugees stole my heart!

(I also want to go to India, China and Thailand. so stay posted, my adventures are not over.)

You Know You've Lived in Africa for a Long Time When. . .

.  . . beans and rice is one of your favorite dishes

.  . . seeing two boys holding hands doesn’t even faze you (in Uganda, it is more common to see people of the same sex holding hands than people of opposite sexes. It’s just a cultural way of saying you are friends.)

.  . . you are used to cold showers (and you only shower twice a week. Oh, and forget about shaving regularly!)

.  .  . clothes you would never wear in the States start to look really cute

. . . you are really excited if the power stays on all day and all night

. . . you see a white person and have the uncontrollable urge to yell, “Mzungu!”

. . . waiting for up to an hour for a meeting or a class to begin is normal

. . . your day is made when you poop solid

. . . you find a rock in your food and you keep eating

. . . you see a dead cockroach in your bathroom and you leave it for a few days

. . . you think your clothes are clean when they don’t smell

. . . you start to argue over twenty cents

. . . you cancel your meetings when it rains

. . . you compare your chaco tan lines with others

. . . you think you’re really tan and then you shower and suddenly you’re not as tan as you thought

. . . all your clothes are crunchy because washing by hand you never get all of the soap out

. . . you have to drink all of your soda at the place you bought it because they charge you extra if you take the glass bottle

. . . you’re riding in a taxi and a random African sits in your lap and you’re okay with it because the 14-seater taxi only has 18 people and not 24

. . . you’ve had at least fifteen marriage proposals in the last week

. . . you sit on a motorcycle sideways (if you’re a girl), even when you’re wearing pants

. . . its normal to hold hands with a stranger when you first meet them

. . . you bargain over every price, regardless of what it is

Co-authored by Sarah Blackhurst, Suzanne Whitehead, Whitney Smith, Devin Wengert and Beka Arnesen

Where Death is Just Another Part of Life

Last month I spent three mornings a week (about 12 hours total each week) at Mbale Regional Hospital, volunteering in either the Pediatric Acute Care Unit or the Surgical Theater. There I came to know the dire need that Uganda needs for improved health care. Mbale Regional is a huge hospital, serving millions of people. It is very understaffed and under equipped. The staff who work there, however, are smart and innovative. They are trying their best to help the people who are ill. As you walk through the hospital you will see people lining all the walk ways and sitting everywhere, waiting for a doctor to see them. Pregnant women wait patiently outside a full delivery room until there is a bed available for them to deliver their baby. It is the most hopeless hopeful place I have ever been.

I once saw a mother holding her baby’s hand as the clinical officer drew blood for testing. I knew that if I was with my child in this hospital as it was (under staffed, ill equipped, dirty, and dark), I would be totally hopeless. However, as I watched this woman staring up at the clinician, I saw her eyes were full of HOPE. Compared to the health care we have in the US, Mbale Regional Hospital is the pit of despair, but for people who have never ever had even remote access to health care, it is a beckon of hope.

One sunny day I was in the surgical ward, waiting for an emergency to come up, because there were no scheduled surgeries. Andy and I cleaned and then folded gauze bandages for hours. Finally an emergency came in.  Any medical student loves seeing any kind of surgery and it (almost) excited when an emergency happens. Sometimes I see patients as nothing more than science. I was excited to see what emergency procedure we would be doing, when they carried in a little baby and laid her on the metal surgical bed in the pre-op area.  She was premature and had been badly burned. Her face—nose, eye lids, and lips—and arms were so burned they looked charred, like charcoal. Her little chest moved up and down, barely enough to be noticed. It was shocking—and horrifying. Even the medical staff in the theater was dismayed.  There wasn’t much to be done except try to relieve the pressure caused on the limbs by the burns.  I handed plaster (medical tape) to the clinical officer (a mere intern) as she cut open the burned arms to decrease the pressure and keep the blood flowing.  All I could think of was that this little girl was only a few days old and already was suffering so much hurt. A few days later, when I went back to the hospital I inquired about the baby.  No one knew what had happened to her. I assume she died. There is no way she could eat with her lips burned closed. It is heart wrenching for me to think she could not be saved. It is my first instinct to try to save a life at all costs. But, I do know that she is in a better place and is out of pain.

A few weeks later, in the pediatric ward, a toddler died while on the examination table. His mother walked out crying (Ugandans never cry) and the father held onto the limp body. Eventually they draped a coat over the boy and the father too, left.

Before I came to Uganda I had never seen death, but now I have stared it in the faith. I have watched as faithful nurses and doctors have tried, despite a limited supply of medicine and technology, to save every child who comes across them. I have a new appreciation for the healthcare we have in the US. I am grateful I will not have to have my baby in a mud hut, on a wooden bed. I am grateful that if my child gets sick or hurt, I can instantly get quality care for him. I am grateful health care has been prioritized and that so many people in America want to be doctors.  I will never forget the experiences I had at Mbale Regional Hospital. In fact, they have inspired me. I will come back to this place and do anything I can to improve the quality of healthcare given here. The people have the heart, they just need the road blocks removed.

CURE Hospital

CURE Hospital is one of my favorite places in Mbale. Run by an NGO, called CURE, they specialize in pediatric neurosurgery—mostly spina bifida and hydrocephalus—serving all of East Africa.  You may not know, but my biggest dream (regarding Africa) is to find an underserved population and start a hospital to serve them. So, walking into this hospital was like walking into my dream!

CURE is probably the nicest hospital in Uganda.  It is clean and bright. They have the latest medical technology.  Each patient has their own bed, with clean sheets. They provide support for the family and continually go to the field to find new patients and to check up on old patients. They also have paper-bead-making IGA (income generating activity) for patients, and they sell the necklaces and earrings at the hospital. This is a “charity” hospital, but they do require that patients pay what they can to help pay for the surgery and treatment. Although they do not pay the highest salary, and most of the staff would be making more if they worked at a government facility, they still have a very loyal staff.  These are Ugandans, and other East Africans, who want to make a change and do some good.

In Eastern Africa, especially in the villages, there is a stigma about hydrocephalus and spina bifida. If your child is afflicted with one of these maladies, it is assumed that you (the mother) did something wrong or that the child is bewitched. They become outcasts to society. If left untreated, hydrocephalus causes the brain to swell, resulting in the entire skull expanding, sometimes to grotesque proportions.  Pressure on nerves can cause damage such as blindness. The procedure to fix hydrocephalus is very simple, and the one that CURE uses, is very non-invasive.

I was involved in a project at the hospital it which we volunteers taught nutrition, hygiene and first aid classes to the mothers who were there with their children.  We taught people from Uganda, Sudan, Kenya, and Ethiopia about how to eat a balanced diet, how to wash their hands and why it was important, and what to do if their child fell out of a mango tree. Most of the women were very excited to learn this information and put it to use. I don’t know for sure if every single woman will implement what we taught, but I hope that this knowledge will be a key factor in improving, or even saving, a few lives.

I want to come back to CURE. I don’t know when. Maybe I will do a medical internship there (while we have been here there have been medical interns from the States, Italy, Eastern Europe, and other places).  Or maybe I will just come back to visit. I would love to explore their other hospitals around the world. They are doing a great work and I am grateful for the chance I had to work with them.