Into the Southern Hemisphere

June 11, 2010

The drive from Kampala to Mbarara took about 5 to 6 hours, and we encountered construction occurring on the road as well, which slowed us down and contributed to an unbelievable amount of dust.

The passing scenery was breathtaking, however, so I didn’t really mind the long trip. For someone accustomed to the flatness of the Lowcountry, the rolling hills were therapeutic. Some pictures:




Also, we passed the equator!

[Some shops next to the marker.]

[Our parked van (which we no longer have use of... I'll explain in a later post). You can see how dusty the unpaved roads are.]

Bahá'í House of Worship

"Have you ever known a man of faith? Did you run the other way? If so, stop running. Maybe sit for a minute. For a glass of ice water. For a plate of corn bread. You may find there is something beautiful to learn, and it doesn’t bite you and it doesn’t weaken you, it only proves a divine spark lies inside each of us, and that spark may one day save the world."
–Have A Little Faith by Mitch Albom

On the way out of Kampala, we took a detour and visited the Bahá'í Temple nearby. Claire was the one who suggested it to the group, but I was pretty excited since there are only seven remaining temples in the world: the United States (Chicago), Australia (Sydney), Germany (Frankfurt), Panama (Panama City), Samoa (Tiapapata), India (Delhi), and Uganda (Kampala). There used to be one in Turkmenistan, but it was destroyed.

Anyone who chooses can visit the temple to worship and pray, whether Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or Hindu. There are no denominational restrictions. The Bahá'í believe in unity--that all people in the world are one regardless of race or nationality, that God is one, and that religion is one. Thus, they are accepting of all faiths and believe that each separate god that is worshiped is only a "Manifestation of God."

The interior of the temple was modest but inspiring. Once we entered, we scattered and sat in wooden benches (like pews, but they were not attached to the ground and were more lightly constructed) and took in our surroundings. Every Bahá'í temple has nine doors and is designed in a nonagon. Writings in Farsi adorned the space above each door, and the sun illuminated the gold and blue stained windows, which were in simple rectangular patterns.

It was a nice break to find some spirituality in our health-filled agendas.

First Taste of Uganda

June 10, 2010

My first Ugandan meal was lunch at a restaurant in Kampala. (The hardboiled eggs, pineapple, and banana I ate for breakfast at the guest house don’t count.)

There were actually no menus, and seeing as it was our first meal, my table of girls had no idea what to do. Thankfully, Dr. Mugerwa arrived to sit with us and explained the basics. The waiter listed off what the restaurant served at our request and because this was unfamiliar territory, but I think most Ugandans probably knew how to order without needing the waiter’s help. We all wanted a safe first meal and weren’t too adventurous, so everyone got a variation of rice, chapati (quite similar to naan), and either beans or chicken.

I went with the chicken, and it arrived in a banana leaf bowl with lots of juices and the meat still on the bones. In addition to rice and chapati, we were also served matooke, Irish (or potatoes), and greens (I’m not sure what specifically).


The matooke was actually more bland than I expected, but the food was quite delicious overall. Chapati is quickly becoming a favorite among us girls!

Kampala, Pt. 2: Mulago Hospital

June 10, 2010

Before we stopped for our first Ugandan meal, we visited Mulago Hospital, the public hospital in Kampala. Because it is public, patients receive care free of charge, although this leads to several major problems itself—mainly, a large overburdening of the system with insufficient human and financial resources.

[Photos courtesy of Google Images]

This overcrowding was apparent firsthand. As we visited the “Infectious Diseases” and “Maternity” wards, our group passed people sitting outside in some of the open air corridors or lining the halls. We later learned that family members stay at the hospital with their loved ones to care for them and even cook meals on hospital grounds; because the hospitals are severely understaffed, family members are responsible for the duties that nurses in the U.S. typically perform.

Patients themselves had little to no privacy. We saw no private rooms at all—patients simply lined the halls of the ward—and many only had a cot, not even a raised bed. Even in the delivery ward (which we did not visit), deliveries take place in an open ward, although I saw that the hospital uses a mobile curtain set-up to offer a bit more privacy when necessary. I only saw one of these in the infectious diseases ward though, so I’m not sure how many they have. For the most part, we saw patients completely in the open, which certainly made us feel like intruders.

There are vast discrepancies between the facilities and resources of a public hospital versus a private hospital. Private hospitals like MMH tend to be better funded and can provide higher quality care, yet they see fewer patients because most people cannot afford their services. On the other hand, public hospitals are overburdened and can lack basic supplies. For example, when we spoke to the intern in the infectious diseases ward, she mentioned that the hospital did not even have adhesive tape. If the patient required something the hospital did not have, the patient must buy that supply himself. But patients don’t always have the financial means for that.

Think about the facilities you’ve visited in the United States; we are extremely fortunate. All the hospitals I can think of blow Mulago out of the water. This was the first time I’ve ever seen a health facility in such a crowded and resource-constrained state, and it really provided some food for thought. I’m thankful for what I have at home—it may cost a fortune, but at least we have the capacity and resources, both in terms of personnel and advanced medical equipment, to care for the sick.

Kampala Pt. 1: Arrival and On Driving

Oh Uganda! the land that feeds us,
By sun and fertile soil grown,
For our own dear land,
We shall always stand,
The pearl of Africa's Crown.
-National anthem of Uganda

June 9, 2010

I’ve made it to Uganda!

The flight was grueling, but I’m quite excited to be here and I think my brain is about to implode from everything it’s trying to take in at once.

We were met at the airport in Entebbe by Dr. Benon Mugerwa (founder of MMH and MMHF, the private hospital and foundation we’re partnering with) and spent the past night and day in Kampala, the capital of Uganda. Our hotel, Namirembe Guest House, sits on a hill with a spectacular view overlooking the city. We couldn’t see anything except for the twinkling of lights (and stars – the night sky is beautiful here!) when we first arrived due to the darkness, but when the morning came and I woke up to the calls of a rooster, the view was amazing.


Don’t be fooled by the calmness of the picture. Kampala is a bustling city, even though June 9 was actually a holiday--Hero’s Day for those who fought in Ugandan wars. We were told that the city was even quieter than it normally is.

On the way from Entebbe to Kampala, one of my first thoughts was: Driving here is a scary affair (especially for someone accustomed to the order and structure of American roads). This holds true in Kampala as well.

First of all, the roads are absolutely chaotic. There are cars, motorcycles (lots of bodas, as they’re called here), vans, pedestrians, trucks, all sharing the road. Merging just happens, and you hope the other car stops for you. (There was one time when I honestly thought we were about to get into an accident with another van; it stopped about 3 inches from the left side of our vehicle.) There also aren’t many signs to help direct flow, but the drivers know how to navigate the chaos, thankfully. I saw a single traffic light during our entire time in the city and only a few stop signs, some which went unheeded.

As for walking on the streets, we quickly learned the important lesson that cars and motorcyclists do not yield to pedestrians. Crossing a road for the first time made me more than a bit nervous. I’m still in one piece though, so all is well!

More on our visit to the public hospital in Kampala in the next post.

By the Numbers: Pre-trip

A throwback to my days as an editorial intern for Duke Magazine:

5...... Vaccines or boosters needed before the trip: yellow fever, Hep A, typhoid, meningitis, and polio
34.... Percent DEET in Ultrathon insect repellent
5...... Tubes of Ultrathon I'm bringing
2...... Size of each tube, in fluid ounces
15.... Cost of calling a Ugandan mobile phone per minute by Skype, in cents
80.... Temperature high for Mbarara today, Fahrenheit degrees
4...... Books packed: Pathologies of Power by Paul Farmer, Reason for Hope by Jane Goodall, Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder, and The Thinking Fan's Guide to the World Cup by Matt Weiland and Sean Wilsey
11..... Duration of my layover before flying to Amsterdam tomorrow, in hours
71..... Number of songs from Glee on my iPod
3.9.... How long it would take me to listen to those 71 songs, in hours
2.8.... How many times I could listen to Glee Volumes 1-3 on repeat during my layover

The Big Picture

A few days ago, Adam and I were discussing my upcoming summer (one of the many conversations we've had about it), and I expressed some of my anxieties and worries about the trip.

I know I'm going to miss my family and home, and as prepared as I may try to be, it would be silly to pretend I won't be affected by my new surroundings. My international travel experiences are limited--especially to environments like Uganda--and I've never had to (1) sleep under a mosquito net, (2) brush my teeth with bottled water, (3) take cold showers by necessity... the list could continue.

In essence, my life has been pampered by luxuries that are about to disappear. Will I be able to adapt? Am I going to be miserable despite my best efforts? (Those close to me should know that I'm somewhat of a control freak. During the school year, my e-mail is meticulously tagged and organized, and my day is usually scheduled down to the minute. My DE interviewer laughed and said perhaps then this summer would be a learning experience for me.)

Then, Adam reminded me of something important: this trip is not about me. And as much as I had known that, I'd somehow lost sight of it in the preparations and packing, which only fueled my worries that I would forget something important, be ill-prepared for the climate, pack too little mosquito repellent.

So I've learned to take a deep breath, relax, and remember the big picture--our work and the community we're there to serve. It has never been about my comfort (DE, after all, isn't paying for me to vacation in Africa) or how I benefit from the program, although I obviously do simply from being enriched by the experience. Reflecting upon our conversation, I was selfish to worry so needlessly in the first place.

I'm going to do my best to embrace these changes. It's time to get back to the basics.