Leaving tomorrow afternoon! AH. Time flies.

I'll write a concluding update in the airport.

Safari

Leaving for the Safari this afternoon. I will not be back until Sunday. Going up the Nile, to Murchisan Falls. Sleeping in tents (yikes..), and much more. Pictures to come.

Voodoo

The whole "witch doctor" thing, and voodoo and all the superstitions that African's have is no joke. Apparently surrounding our district there are four practicing witch doctors, which isn't a whole lot. Child sacrifice is still a big thing. They will only sacrifice, "perfect" children. The people are very spiritual, and will easily believe things. At the orphanage, Christianity is taught, and they are very accepting and believe the things taught, but at the same time believe that some lady gave birth to a snake in the village last week. In one of my classes we were on the subject of "right" vs. "wrong" and the kids were naming off things that are "wrong" to do, and one child said "child sacrifices". My mouth dropped, I hadn't realised that that was a part of their life. In church on Sunday the paster prayed that the government and the police would get on enforcing the law around child sacrifices more and that this country would learn that that is wrong. My first reaction was how horrible this is, but don't we kill babies in America too? Before they even have a chance to leave the womb.

Check out these links and debates from Ugandan News sources:
http://www.newvision.co.ug/B/D/628/9
http://www.religionnewsblog.com/15637/child-sacrifice-is-on-the-rise-in-uganda



We had some people come in and give a puppet show to the kids today during school. They loved it, it was very cute. But, back on the superstitions thing, my housemate Laura was telling me that when she was in Kenya, they gave a puppet show to some of the kids, and the children and even teachers came up to them after the show and said "where are the people that were talking" refering to the puppets. It's hard for them to understand some things.

Apparently in Nigeria in January a goat was arrested for robbing a bank.
(Article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7846822.stm )

However, I still love it here.

Equator

Took a trip to the Equator on Saturday. It was very excited to see a yellow line painted across the road. Oh well, it's one of those things you can say "I've been there". Bought some souvenirs at the tourist trap shops there. Mostly just bought stuff I didn't want because I felt bad for the people and they would say "please be my customer I make you good deal". Good thing Ugandan Shillings stretch pretty far.

Today I am tired.

1/13/2009

It has been two weeks. Time is going be so quickly, although at the same time it feels like I haven't been in the states in years. I do not want to leave here. One Month is not long enough.

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Melago Hospital.

Imagine being sick in a place where your "hospital bed" may ne a blanket on the floor, in some unclamed corner, surrounded by other patients. The building you are in resembles, not a running hospital like it really is, but instead the remains of what once was a large government run Hospital, possibly the biggest and best in the country. Yet, it appears to have been sitting there to rot for years, un-used by humans. But it is not an abandoned building, not at all. The workers just seem to be blind to the holes in the ceiling, exposing leaky pipes. There are no building codes, I am not sure if there are even health codes, in a hospital that is.

Imagine having to wait in the crowded hallways, for days even, to see your doctor for anything from a simple head cold, to realising the diagnosis you recieved a while ago of being HIV positive has worsening symptoms, symptoms you know means that it has turned into full blown AIDS.

Imagine watching as nurses walk around, and being unsure of what their actual purpose is to the hospital, other then gossiping with each other, dressed in their old fashion nurse dresses and little hats, and flirting with the doctors. The nurses do not take care of patients. It is not their job to feed or bathe patients, nor to bring them their food or change their bed linens, or even bring them medicine. I am unsure what their job is.

Imagine having a family member sick in this hospital. Your job is to care for this relation. You must find a place for them to lay their head, either in a bed in the middle of a fowl smelling disease infested ward, crowded with other patients in beds and on the floor. Or, you can find a space on the floor in a hall way somewhere. Now, you have to find a place for yourself to stay. You camp out in the hospital lawn, with hundreds of others who have sick ones in the hospital. You must provide your family member with bedding, you must bathe and feed them. You bring them medicine which you go get and pay for and come back with. You tend to the patient, in whichever way he or she needs tending to. If you are lucky, someday the doctor may come see your brother or sister, mother or father, son or daughter.

But maybe this disease infested hospital is a better place then the home you have miles away, made of dirt and clay. Where you eat, sleep, bathe, toilet, grow and raise food, all on the same ground.

A man named Dr. Ian Clarke wrote a book about Uganda, entitled "The Man with the Key has Gone." This is Africa. Especially in the area of medicine. Forget ever getting X-rays, tests, blood tests, anything. Chances are, the man with the key is gone.

The little girl we took to Melago Hospital (Uganda's big Government run hospital)yesterday will probably need an operation to remove her spleen in 3 or 4 years.

There is no recovery room for little Jane to rest and recover in a clean bed after her surgery. There are no nurses that will dote on her at all, much less give her extra attention because she is such an adorable, calm, obediant, well manored little girl.

I cannot imagine laying on an operating table in a room that does not appear clean at all. Where other people can walk in and out and through, without washing their hands or covering their mouths. Where the ceiling tiles are missing and I can feel, every once in a while, a small wet drip upon my arm, from above, as I lay with my skin cut upon, and my insides exposed to the unsanitary air.

I held Janey's hand as we walked out of the hospital after her check up, being careful to step over and around people sleeping on the ground.

Jane was lucky to be escorted by four Mazungos. She hardly had much of a wait to see the doctor, as we were quickly ushered in front of a group of twenty five people in the waiting room, who God knows how long they had been waiting to see the doctor. We were brought through the doors into a hallway, where there were thirty more, lining the walls, waiting to see the doctor.

Jane was lucky to see a Mazunga doctor, who is visiting Uganda for three weeks trying to teach the people new ways of running a hospital, and leaves next week. Her luck is not usual.

Jane entered a room with three tables, two of which doctors sat at. On one side of the room an African doctor busy with a patient--a middle aged woman who was having complications with her blood not clotting. This women is HIV positive. Middle aged here is mid-twenties to thirties.

At the other table, the Mazunga doctor was waiting to see Jane.

Nothing here is private. Jane's appointment went well, but we will have to go back another time for a blood smear, an extrememly simple test, one that could not be done because "the man with the key" was gone.

The women with HIV's appointment didn't seem to go as well. The Ugandan doctor asked the Mazunga across the room what he should be doing with a patient who's blood was not clotting. The Mazunga responded, with an heir of impatience, frustration, and sorrow, telling the doctor that he needs to give his patients EXAMINATIONS, before coming up to ask questions.

Jane is five years old, according to her file yesterday was her birthday. She does not know this though. As the Mazunga doctor looks up from Jane's file and says "Happy Birthday," Janes looks so confused and does not reply.

Jane did not come with a birth certificate. Most of the children don't. The orphanage estimates their birthdate by looking at their health, and development, specifically their teeth. Some children's ages are "changed" when all the sudden we realise they have developed a lot faster then the age we stamped them with. When they start to look more like 14, not 10. When one of our older children was asked how old she was, she replied "I'm not sure, I was 10, but they just changed it recently, and are talking about changing it again." This specific child looks 13 of 14.

We took Jane out for ice cream after her appointment. We decided it was okay to spoil her.

It was Jane's first time eating ice cream.

Africa

I know a place where the people's skin is the same color

as the dirt They dig in.

With their hands. Bending at the waist.

Every day, All Day.

And the Children in rags & bare.

They are Happy.

And when they sign, in perfect harmony.

It is beautiful.

Every life is responsible for itself.From the smallest child, who knows how to dig with its hands.

To the eldest woman.

Bending all day.

I'm learning the language, I do not want to go home.

**Jane resting in my lap on the way home from Melago Hospital**

"Mazungo/Mazunga"--[Swahilli] This is what they call us "white people". It's not a derogitory word, although I think it may have originated more so. I'm still trying to figure out what exactly it translates to. You drive down any road, and little kids will come running out of their yards pointing and waving and yelling "Mazungos!! MAzungos!!". For some, it may be the first white person they've ever seen, for others we are just interesting to them because we look so different (the orphans will stare at a freckle or mole or (in my case) burn scar on your arm forever amazed, because they cannot see these things on their own skin). The children here are very excited to see white people as is, I noticed on my run today through the village outside Rafiki, the kids would come out waving and yelling very proudly whatever words they knew in English. I had about 7 of them all yelling "HOW ARE YOU HOW ARE YOU HOW ARE YOU!" I do not think they knew what it meant though. And then down the road more another others were yelling English phrases.

"Encoco" [Luganda] A Chicken. Or rooster. I think it might come from "Cock-a-doodle-do," because I heard a little one point at a rooster and say "coco-do-di-do" which must be what African Roosters sound like :)..

"Ente" - [Luganda] cow

"Emu, Biri, Satu, Nya, Taano, Mukaaga, Musanvu, Munaana, Mwenda, Kkumi!"-[Luganda] the numbers 1-10. The kids count in English, Spanish, Lugandan, and Japanese when stretching for soccer practice.

These next ones, I do not have the spelling for but this is how you say it--these are all in Luganda:

Good Morning: Wa-sue-zay o-tee-ano

Good Afternoon: Oh-see-bee-a o-tee-ano

Good night: sue-la boo-loon-gee

I am well: boo-loon-gee

Thank you: way-baa-lay

Sir: Say-bo

Madame: Nyah-bo

How are you? (to a child) O-lee-o-tee-uh

Fine: Caw-lay

Thank you for your work: Jay-baa-lee-co

Sunday's best

(not real church I attended)

Sunday morning, after breakfast I pile into a "taxi" van with about 20 children, two "mama's," as well as Elle and myself. Africans are better stuffing people into cars then Mexicans are.
We rode the bumpy ride to Church outside Kampala. The little ones all sang songs the whole way..."he's got the whole world in his hands, he's got the whole world in his hands........." making up each following verse as they go, "He's got Aunty Cara and Aunty Elle in his hands.." African children sound soooo adorable when they sing. They pronounce EVERY syllable. and they love to sing. One will start a song and they will all join in and sing all the way there. It is precious.

Church was interesting. It was all in Lugandan. except when the priest pointed at Elle and I and welcomed us (we were the only white people of course..."Mazungos"). One of the ushers or something came and sat by us and explained the serman to us in english while the priest was speaking. The people were very nice, the church was full, but I look forward to visiting an English speaking church next week.

The rest of the day was entirely lazy. I went for a walk. Did some laundry. Attempted to make Chicken Parm, without Parmesian Cheese, and no italian spices, or bread crumbs...it looked just like chicken parm, but tasted pretty bland. I'm going to ask Mike if I can go into town with him on Wednesday and check out the grocery store, so I can make these guys some real food.

Medicine

I forgot to mention the clinic. The doctor here is Doctor Tyler. Him and his wife and four little kids, traveled in time here from 1950, and have lived here for almost three years. They have the perfect little white family. The kids go to school with all the little black kids, and they are way too well behaved.

Elle, Gareth, and I have been spending a bit of time with the Doctor, visiting him in the clinic and observing what he does up there. We haven't had much hands on but we've seen tests for malaria mostly. Everyone gets Malaria here. Somebody gets sent home from school with it every day it seems. It doesn't kill them here, they just treat it and then get better. And then get it again later.

We've also taken a few trips with him into Kampala to take patients to the hospital for tests or work that he can't do in the clinic on sight. We took little Martin to the eye doctor at Mengo Hospital (photo) for new eyeglasses. Elle and I helped him pic them out.

Also we took Mama Betty and little Harriet to a different hospital for some blood work. Betty has arthritis AND diabetes...and she takes care of 6 or 7 little children. Harriet had some stomache thing.

Sunset

I've been getting more settled in here, and finding more to do, so my "computer time" has been less and less, so I'll try to get everything updated.

I've been doing a variety of different things here. In the mornings I usually assistant teach two classes, 4th graders and then 3rd graders. The 4th graders are brats. The 3rd graders are squirmy. from 11:30 to 1:00 I have a bit of a break, sometimes I'll eat lunch in the dining hall with the Mama's and their younger-not-yet-school-age kids, but most of the time I grab something at our house (We leave a grocery list for when Mike goes into town for supplies...there's not quite the variety of things we can get in the states...but we get enough to survive--peanut butter, pancake mix, African Hunny--which I will try to smuggle some back...it's different, eggs, lunch meats, yogurt, oatmeal, vegies and fruit (most we just get from here), um I don't know what else, this and that. In the afternoon I helped out in a few different places this past week...taught a couple classes, helped a couple classes. Next week Elle and I are going to take over the 2nd grade music and bible classes and possible English to 4th? I think..maybe a couple more, I'll let you know. Also, I plan on helping out Stu (he's in charge of projects like painting, fixing things, landscaping, ect....and math class haha) with some painting and stuff along with Gareth.

In the afternoons I usually go around to study hall for the younger kids and see who needs help. And then at 3:30 I go up to the JSS (Junior Secondary School) to do some tutoring one on one. these are the older kids...all day students 6th thru 8th I believe (a lot of the younger students live here at the orphanage, but not all of them). I've been doing English and Math tutoring mostly. Math is hardddd cause I haven't been in it in a year or two--even though they are doing all easy math stuff.

Somebody said they were interested in knowing what the food is like here. African food is no good. At least what they serve here. very bland. it's more like, they eat it to survive.

The only thing I've liked was the Matooke, and thats only when its prepared a certain way. It's like a plantain kinda, but not as good as the Cubans make them.

I eat dinner with the families almost every night, but a lot of the time we all come home and snack after, on food we like. My housemates have designated me "cook". I made pancakes and bacon and eggs tonight, tomorrow we're (I) am making pasta. I usually make them do the dishes.

begining of the week.

1/2/2009
[02 Feb 200912:17pm]

Awoke in Entebbe Guest House (Gorilla Arms Guest House and Tours) at about 7am. It started pouring rain at about 4:00am. We had breakfast at Guest House, and then Mike Enis picked us up to take us to Rafiki Village. The drive here was about an hour and a half, staring out the window the whole time. This certainly is Africa. It looks just like Africa. Uganda is actually a very very beautiful place. Once you look beyond the poverty. It is so lush and green and beautiful. Apparently, the country of Uganda has enough fertile soil, and the proper growing conditions (it's spring all year round) to cultivate enough crop to feed the whole continent of Africa. Can you imagine? Yet, it's so poor.

We arrived at the Rafiki village at about 11:00am. Were settled into our Guest house and shown the ropes. We have a very comfortable house, shared by the three of us and one other girl who has been here for a month already. The house has three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. Elle and I are sharing a room, Gareth has his own, and so does the girl here before us (I think her names Laura?). We also have a kitchen, living room, dining room, living room, and lounge area. And electricity, running/drinkable/filtered/water, showers with WARM and cold water, wireless internet, a refrideraterrrr...EVerything. Except the electricity turns off occasionally, but no big deal.

It gets light here at 7:00 am and dark at 7:00pm.

Ugandaaaaaaaaaa

Sunrise

ATTENTION

OKAY GUYS...This is in the works...

I have been keeping a semi-day-to day journal on the computer on this trip...So I will copy and paste and have this up to date shortly....

I am new to this blog thing and trying to figure it out...Little computer Illiterate!!!

Check out Flickr too...lots of photos (username: carabellawheee or caratarpin@yahoo.com)

AFRICA--1/1/2009

[02 Feb 200911:51am]

1/1/2009
Arrived in Entebbe airport, 24 hours after leaving Rochester, NY. It was 9:00pm here, 1pm in the afternoon back in NY. We were met at the Airport by Feroke, who drove us and other tourists to a nearby Guest House for the night. Slept well in Misquito nets. Found a pink lizard on the wall, tried to get him out the door, but then he disapeared, so Elle and I slept with the light on.