Guet me out of here

I left my boys last night for a much needed personal restreat. Ive been trailed by a brave group of 22 year old boys who refer to me as ¨nurse J¨. One boy with cystic fibrosis, living out his last days, portable respirator in hand, one 17 yo at heart, and one kid with more near death stories than one ought to ever have. They were good friends to me- giving me hugs and endless shit as I stared nervously at potential landslides. I arrived in San Marcos, a tiny village on the lake, in the rain. I changed rooms twice. ´mi solo´ I said motioning to lack of locks. So I was put with one very strange boy and another one who was seriously ill, thinking why me. The heavens opened up again with serious rage and I was grateful to have someone to take care of cause I was so scared with the rising water and my little cabana in the valley. I was up all night with the rain and thunder and booming that I was sure was the land coming crashing through the valley. There is no time that you feel more alone, farther away from home, then when you are sick as a dog in a forgien country imagining what kind of sickness you must have contracted. But the one thing I can say is that in the morning I had the most amazing breakfast, the sun came out, i did yoga for 2 hours... and then jumped the boat to Panajachel. My plan .... maybe home when the weather is safe for travel.

Guatever

So, after the first afternoon in Guatemala it started, and then continued, to rain for days. In Antigua I hit the backpacker circuit. In the middle of 20 2oyear olds I found a nice 27 year old girl from England who has also had to work for the money she travels with. I was grateful for a conversation that didn't revolve around partying. Antigua itself was a beautiful colonial town with a market for me to go shopping in ... and even a Burger King. I can't remember if I wrote about the Volcano- but we rode 2 hours each way in the rain and hiked 4 hours in the rain to see where lava might be but I enjoyed the exercise. The next day I took off for Lake Attilan which happens to be at the end of a chinese built road that is 3 hours long. Huge sand/dirt embankments on either side just scream landslide at you and by the time I reached the lake I was shooken up. I got in a boat with a bunch of nervous gualtemalans bound for a small village with one hotel. Luckily- the one hotel was a slice of heaven. Thank god for that because I was beginning to wonder if my luck had run out. As the rain poured I worried about landslide possibilities, scratched my bed bug bites, and tried to fix my brand new broken camera. Oh the joys of travel. Miracle of miracles.. the sun came out the next day. Here we were braced for yet another tropical storm but no.. the gods smiled on me as we explored indiginous villages. I went for my first altitude fresh water dive today and freaked out in zero visibility. Luckily the dive master was a gentle person and used to the reaction. I then went and took a weaving class with a local woman in her house. As I sat in silence with her- speaking the only spanish neccessary... all my worries melted away. Women's work... for once in my life I was so damn grateful.

Guatemala

I was expecting something completely different than this. My vision was arriving to a small dumpy airport on a plane of missionaries, dumped into a bustling street with cabbies jumping over each other for my business and little children following me with open palms. What happened was I arrived to a very large modern airport (spotlessly clean with a staff that said "Welcome to Guatemala" as I passed), on a plane full of businessmen, and was directed out the door to the shuttle I desired. No begging children, no begging cabbies, and I woke up in Antigua, a strange westernized mecca just south of the city. Antigua is infused with serious cashflow. I put down my bags, went to the churches, rolled up my sleeves and bargained in the market (with terrible but improving spanish). ..... and went back to my room to count my losses. I'm totally struck by how safe I feel here. Not one person ripped me off, not one man made me feel uncomfortable, not one person begged. Here where 75% are below poverty- you would not know it. I have a feeling that has everything to do with my current location but still. It is remarkable how safe I feel here, how beautiful it is... And now back to the hostle ;)

Thanks

Each night we arrive at "The Plaza" an oasis in Tent city with palm trees around a pool and 12$ bottles of wine. Outside tonight I can here gun shots and yelling as we sit around and chat. Demonstrations have started. It has rained for four days and the people of Haiti are upset that they are living in tents. All this Aid money and no aid. God I wish I could just stay and help and help. It is sad here.
The people here are so appreciative. They wave at me when I come in and my translator pulled me aside today and said quietly and sincerely "everybody loves you here" (I don't know why). My patient told the media rep that I saved his life and we got our picture taken together to send to the sponser of IMC. Things like that feel so good. I'm so far far away from patients who complain about their dinner tray, from being so damn sweet to crazy mean crack addicts, from all the bullshit that comes with my job at home. All day long people say "thank you" to me... and I'm just doing my job.

Je Fait Mal

I'm lazing by the pool today... seriously. But I have been working my hard-exhausted by the end of the day. At this point I could stay here for a long time and be happy. I like it here. The people, the voodoo, the weather... and it's beautiful. They need help. By 8am even my knees are sweating and I prefer this to Boston weather. Who'da thought. I move bed to bed all day long hanging meds, placing IVs, saying "c'est bon", and pantamiming just about everything. This is what I've learned in Creol. The whole ward watches me work. It no longer makes me nervous. We do have 2 vents- powered by a generator when the power goes out, and one big oxygen tank in the center of the room with tubing running out to the different beds. Two days ago we finished making charts for everyone- it's as organized as can be ;) Eyeballing a versed drip..- god part of me really likes being far away from nursing that's based around preventing lawsuits. I feel like we are helpful here and it feels good. I joke with the translators. I document what is important. I take care of people. It is simple.

Haiti- Day 4

Working Triage on nights:

My translator is 19 yo- he never sits up and translates half of what I say. There is constant banging on the door and yelling outside. In order to get into this ER, you must look the most dead. So I go outside from time-t0-time to determine who is faking it, and who is critically ill- then I point and say "this one, then this one, then that one". Last night I had a man who was stabbed, a woman whose face was bitten by another woman, a 8 yo girl that was raped, a 4 yo who had been hit in the head with a rock, .... and on and on. People carrying lifeless bodies to have them then sit up and say "my stomach hurts".. "where?" ... and then they sweep their hand over their whole body.

Bienvenue Haiti

I went in without expectation and was once again surprised..haha.

Haiti

The roads are paved but rubble and tent cities line the "streets". This will be short because I am exhausted...but we see the same things here as Africa. God I wish I could elaborate more but I've been working hard on no sleep. It's hot- dripping sweat hot- just the way I like it :). And the people are kind and look after their family members in a way that warms your heart. The medical care they receive is awful- in a way that will break your heart. And the culture is fun and happy... but there isn't a whole lot of smiling here unless you are the one to smile first. Such a polite culture- they'd never leave you hanging. So anyway... the conditions report: I live in the ballroom of a hotel on a mattress beneath a web of strings holding up mosquito nets. I eat soooo well- seriously. Fresh vegetables... yeah MREs for lunch but who cares... dinner is amazing. And per ususal- jerks don't do forgien aid- the people are awesome. At the end of the day I jump in the pool. To summarize: I work hard, I sleep hard, I rest hard- life is good.

Zanzibar and Leaving Africa

Getting out to Zanzibar is nothing short of the usual adventure. I miss the last ferry by 10min due to the bus breaking down, spend the night in a seedy hotel, and then take the morning ferry to Zanzibar. Here, I am planning to have a reunion with my friends from Britian.

Zanzibar is ruled by Tanzania but operates like it's own seperate city. It has a mayor and its own government. For hundreds of years Mulims and Christains have been living door to door without dispute. This is a great source of pride. I can see why they are able to live so peacefully. Zanzibar is instant happiness. It's hot don't get me wrong. I am dripping sweat. But, since the slave trade ended, spices and fish are their main source of income. It's a perfect marraige of things. There are parties on the beach every night and there is no electricity on the island, which is a major source of agrivation for tourists hoping for a cold beer. But for me, I am used to warm beer and I like candle light. Generators run the music at night and we have an amazing time.

I write in my journal on the last day:

On my last day, Africa is already calling me back. In a bus crammed with 20 people, I am watching the sun set through the palms..white sand, and blue/green water. The woman next to me is muslim, wrapped head to toe in floral. She is trying to speak to my in Swahili: "Jasmine.... rice" she says, referring to my name. I can only make out one or two words but smile kindly as her baby carresses my arm. Football has just let out and kids with kleets are crowding on. Trucks full of teenagers shouting and dancing are driving by. I have left all my dear friends from England- we met in Jinja, bumped into each other here and there. "It's rubbish that you're leaving" ...a confession from Tom. Maybe I will hold up to the promise I have made time and time again in Africa and return for longer. I cried with I left Nikki- the two of us shared just about everything between girls. We navigated East Africa together, fumbles and all. Two strangers.

Zanzibar:

Imagine paradise in a sweat room. This is Zanzibar. Black bodies, fishing from dug-out canoes in green water and white sand. I jumped into the water in the middle of a school of dolphins, I sat on pristine beaches, swam with sea turtles, snorkled world class reefs twice, sailed twice, toured old slave trade sites, visited a spice plantation, and danced at night with rastas and masai. Oh Africa, I'm going to miss the people here...the beautiful, optimistic, pole-pole-ness of it all.

After I leave Nikki, I arrive in Stonetown in the dark. A local boy walks with me to the ferry terminal. Talking makes the pitch black alleys of Stonetown less frightening. I'm impressed with myself. I remember the way. I get on the overnight ferry to the mainland, a 10 hour journey. Because I'm white, I get a couch, and I am too grateful to feel guilty. Foam mattresses cover every inch of the floor. People have brought food and bedding for the journey. I curl up on my backpack and fall asleep. I wake up when I am nearly falling off the couch with the rocking. Babies are rolling back and forth and, because they are African, also still asleep. The plaques on the walls are swinging at 45 degree angles, and I'm feeling pannicked. All the doors are locked, there are no life jackets, no window that could open. I accept my fate and go back to sleep. "Salaam alaikum sister, Jambo, Jambo" I have arrived in heaven and it is African, Islamic African. I wasn't expecting this. No, but I have arrived for my last few hours in Africa. ...So sad.

I rearrange my bags 6 times before they let me get on the plane. They give me 10lbs for free. Africa ;) I thought they could do better but in the end did the best they could to help me. 10lbs and most everything I wanted. I left a bribe, a suitcase, and clothes for the girls...who immediatley started trying things on. You live and learn... and in the end it always works out.

Goodbye Kampala, Hello Safari

In the last few days in Kampala I slowly pack my things and say goodbye to some really great people. I leave with a list of phone numbers and a phone full of well wishes. I board the plane which I have a 1 in 10 chance of surviving on (according to statistics of planes in Africa). The flight is short and smooth and I write in my journal: From the plane window I can see the cooking fires so far away in the darkness. True to Africa, they have let me buy the ticket an hour before departure, waived the excess baggage fee, and departed 3 hours late. I arrive in Nairobi at night and spring the money for a taxi and nice hotel. In the morning I take a shuttle 6 hours south to Arusha, Tanzania. Visa fee- $100. Arusha is where I will be leaving for safari.

I spend the afternoon walking around, bargaining down safari prices, comparing companies, and making some friends. The next day I take the bus to Moshi to see Kilamajaro and it is immense, rising out of the flatness, and dissapearing into a cloud. Apparently, only 1 in 10 actually summit according to a guide I am talking to. Who knows- maybe I am misunderstanding.

Safari departs in the afternoon and in the morning I am driving through the Ngorongoro Crater Reserve. I drive for 3 days standing on the back seat of a landrover and watching the Serengeti and the Ngorongoro Crater sprawl out in front of me. I listen to my IPOD as we drive. I keep my shirt over my head to spare me from the African sun. I spend my evenings with the guides, drinking warm beer, and talking about absolutely nothing. The animals are incredible. I drink my coffee amoungst elephants and gazelles. I see zebras and wildabeast like schools of fish. It's a fitting analogy because the Serengeti feels like the ocean: vast, flat, rippeling in the breeze. I see a leopard and cub sleeping in a tree, the illusive black rhino, and sit in a pride of lions. Elephants, girraffes, antalopes, .... only 10 feet away. It's beautiful.

Burns Unit at Mulago Hospital

I found a picture of the halls of Mulago hospital. Here family members are lined up with their suitcases. They basically live at Mulago. They bring straw mats to sit on, buckets to wash the clothes in and for their family members to go to the bathroom in and throw up in, thermoses... etc.


BURNS UNIT

I had heard rumors of a burn unit at Mulago. There was, there wasnt..... Finally I stumbled upon the very well established burns unit of Mulago hospital. The ICU required and entire changing of clothing and shoes to protect patients from outside bacteria. I wore a hair net and Burn unit cover all. This is the same as I would at MGH. I had once read a book on the history of burn care and basically it hasn't really advanced since the turn of the last century. For this reason, I found the practice of burn care at Mulago very similar to MGH. My day started with washing the patience and soaking the tub in alcohol between. We would wash and hold down screaming children and then bring them to the dressing room where we would hold down screaming children once again. They don't give pain medication unless the case is severe (which there were some very very severe cases so I don't know what it really takes to be considered severe). "It causes addiction" said one nurse. So dressing changes are done without any analgesia. It took 3 people to hold down one nine year old boy. He was fighting us, begging us, losing his mind. So the nurse smacked him in the face. I'm not trying to say these nurses aren't compassionate but the approach is different. Some of the kids were so tough, just taking the pain. Some were so tired of the dressing changes and begging for us to stop. Here the dressings are changed every 2-3 days as opposed to every day like what I'm used to in the States. And the wounds really do look good. I didn't even see any that were infected. I did see one man with exposed bone and no dressing but he was headed for surgery to fix it. In the ICU there were 2 patients: one 45% burn and one 70% burn. In the back room I found a heating lamp, an oxygen tank, a ventilator from 1920, and a couple other machines they must use when the big burns first arrive. "They usually don't make it" the nurse told me. But obviously some did. 70% is a big burn to be able to manage. They get all their supplies donated. They use cardboard from boxes for splints to prevent contractures. They use silver cream and iodine which is very inexpensive. I was impressed by how well managed the burns were, aside from lack of pain medication. It was definatley one of the nicer units at Mulago.

Casualty Ward

Casualty Ward is the equivalent of the ER in the states. It is a dark lobby with where motorbikes and cars constantly arrive carrying bodies. There are ambulances here- usually an old small toyota truck with a siren on top. The medics sit on the sides of the truck- but they do any interventions till the patient gets to the hospital. Even then the doctors yell at us white girls constantly "leave him", "let her rest".... then maybe we can treat the bleeding, painful, complete femur fracture in like an hour. That didn't happen once- it has now happened 4 times. It's Africa- things are done "slowly slowly" or else people feel uncomfortable. I've also seen matatus crammed full of people and one half dead. Sometimes there is nothing but public transport.
Anyway- the casualty ward is F*****!.
Day one begins like this... I walk into a room with 3 men all on old rickety metal gurnies crying out. One has obviously fractured both femurs and they have been dressed but there is still about 1 liter of blood on the floor and that is a conservative explanation. This blood remains there for the next 3 hours till someone mops it away- no disinfectant. The man is obviously loosing too much blood. I mean obvious. It is not until we suggest that the man get some blood that they take some blood to then crossmatch for a unit for him. For example: in the states. The second a trauma comes in vitals are taken, a monitor is hooked up, lines are placed for ressusitation, blood is taken for crossmatching, .......... and also- pain is managed. Here we give a strong NSAID (the equivalent of 4 ibuprofens) as an IM injection in the ass after your fracture has been reset. I have seen so many open fractures from Boda Boda accidents in the past few days it's crazy. There is no morphine in the ED. The Ugandans just grin and bear it like soldiers. I am positive I would be swinging if someone did the things they do without explanation. The orthopedist walks in tosses a piece of cardboard (a splint) on the patient, lifts the leg, sets it- done. He does this with the same facial expression of someone tying their shoe. I got to do some stitches on a man beat by the police. Stitching the scalp takes a lot of muscle. That's the other one I see a lot- people beat by the police.
BUT here's the best one.
I could smell him the minute I walked on the ward. When he opened his jacket I saw a growth like a hollowed out mushroom cloud on his chest. The center was necrotic and inside - what is that crawling all around? magots.
I have also seen a penis that is unrecognizable due to genital warts.
A nose that is necrotic to the bone.
Text book things in my face, so much blood on the floor, and doctors that say "this man is giving me a headache with all this carrying on" and "leave him". (not that they aren't compassionate.. it's just very different).

Mulago Slog Continues

Our afternoon lecture started with a prayer and ended with a prayer. "God- give us the ability to learn and work together as a team. .......". First topic of conversation: a gift for sister Annett (nurse) - a bag of 10 digital thermometers - which she then handed out to the med students because we have one digital thermometer for the whole floor. That is 1 thermometer shared amongst 150 people on the infectious disease unit where we don't have enough sanitizer to spare to wash it. So, everyone gets axillary temps- but that still is crappy infection control. Most of the time they don't even bother with vital signs anyway- I mean what can they do about whatever they find anyway? Second topic of conversation: there is no paper for patient records. There are no file folders left because they were used when the paper ran out. "This is not a problem" announces the Chief doctor on the unit "we just ask the families to buy notebooks". We then discuss a couple cases of death. "If God wants to take a life there is not much we can do"- this is said a few times by different African doctors. The cases are so rudimentary I could treat these patients- scary.
Yesterday at the hospital 6 died- I wheeled beds with dead bodies into the back room as family members hung onto the bed and cried. We start med administration at one end of the floor and work our way through 150 patients to the other end. I get yelled at everytime I go back to hang a second med for someone. I am used to keeping track of people- I remember what I've left unfinished. The nurses at Mulago have no idea what is going on with people they just give meds and keep going. Nothing is explained. If you are a family member, you are the nurse. You must remind the nurse of everything that needs to be done. News has traveled that I will come and help and so people are constantly tapping me on the shoulder. The nurses here could do so much more if they weren't so lazy and the attitude is "it's in god's hands anyway" .. "there's not much we can do". The patients also ask me to buy medications for them because they are poor and I want to sooo so badly. I just know the minute I start that- 150 people are going to be asking me.
Today there were IV fluids finally but no IV tubing. That made it hard to give people their IV antibiotics. There was also no blood for blood transfusions- not that they would waste that on a lot of people anyway.
My little soldier (who is 26- my age- I don't know why I call him little) with the upper GI bleed is still alive. Not exactly conscious, but still alive. Everyone is teetering on death there. Everyone. I don't know why I like him so much- because he's young and his soldier friend spends countless hours cleaning his bloody stool, bloody vomit. I want so badly to seem him monday when I come back but I'm really afraid I won't. With the ones who could use it and get better, I hand them out IV fluids and tell them to save them for later. I know I shouldn't but I can't help it. The young ones- are too young. Death is just a fact of life here. Most women have lost children and it is interesting to see how detached they are. There is nothing I can do about the lack of nutrition. We have feeding tubes but no tube feed. I just instruct people to force feed their loved ones. They all line up for porridge, which is the only food the hospital provides. Porridge here is some white, nutritionless, grain in milk. They get one mug per person. And that is if you have a family member to go and get it. People that don't have family go unwashed, unmedicated, unfed, no sheets, ..... Often another person, a stranger, will help them. But they won't buy things for them. Yesterday I found more than one person lying in their own shit and by the looks of things had been for days. There are no sheets so I couldnt change them. Today- I'm going to the market to get some. Here if you are strong enough to walk- you can walk home.

On a lighter note: went to the R Kelly concert last night which was the concert of the year. Thousands of people just lovin R Kelly. Remix to Ignition.. I believe I can FLy. It was just as entertaining as it sounds. Getting in was scary though. The line broke and everyone ran for the gate. As we started to get crushed (and I started to get the "shit shit shit"feeling), the crowd erupted as police started hiting people with sticks and firing into the air in front of me. I mean literally 2 people away from me. The color of my skin saved me from being hit. Nobody cares about the black man- not even Africans. We ducked and ran in. Then in the crowd to see R Kelly I was pushed into the middle of 2 fights. Then when we left, we hoped on the back of a motor bike. We are zooming between cars with the traffic and I here the screech of tires to look back and see a car loose control and hit the median like 10 feet away from me. My whole pack of guardian angels is still hard at work- even at 3am. We danced all night... again. I really love Kampala.

Day 2

Today we had no IV fluid so we couldnt even give meds till 1pm because we had nothing to mix them with. I only wrapped one body today- but two died over night. Families watched in amazement as I helped a woman dress. That just isnt done by the nurse. They were like this girl's got a Florence Nightingale complex. What else- I saved a life.. of that I am sure. And my little honey better be waiting for me in the morning cause I worked really hard to jerry rig oxygen and catheters and fluids. And it's hopeless really. 27 with upper GI bleed. For the most part, at Mulago, if someone has a something actually life threatening you just watch them die to save the supplies for someone who will most likely make it. I organize family members to help me carry the beds because none of the wheels work. O2 tubing is IV tubing cut and taped together. There are 2 IV poles and they are both missing all the wheels...hanging off to the side. There's so much left over supplies in the states that could help these people. I don't even know why they come. A lot of families say "let us go. we think he's gonna die".

Mulago Hospital, Kampala Uganda

So after networking for a week and doing things Pole Pole (slowly slowly) African style, I get us into Mulago Hospital- the national hospital of Uganda. We enter right into the heart of the beast- infectious disease ward.
There are not rooms. One big room with beds lined up. If there isn't a bed, your family buys you a mattress to sleep on. There are 2 nurses and 2 student nurses to 75 patients. Because of this, your family comes and stays with you. It's required really- if there isnt anyone, the nurse will ask "where are your attendents?". Your family buys you all your medical supplies from a store, all your drugs from a pharmacy, all your food from home, all your bedding from home, your clothing, your diapers, your bucket to puke in. Provided by the hospital is: bed if lucky, IV fluids - which were not available today ("we will probably loose a few to dehydration today" a doc says casually at lunch) , and IVs... oh and medical tape. The nursing team starts at 10am and begins administering medications to all the patients. This continues till 4pm. Family does bed baths, walks you to the bathroom, ties you to the bed when you are thrashing, etc.. The nurse only has time for meds and if you die. I started my shift with wrapping a body and ended it with wrapping a body.
"Come someone has died" he says with a smile on his face. I walk into the room to find a man lying on the floor in all his clothes: pulseless, cold, pupils fixed and dilated. Everyone- family members and patients- are just watching me as I wrap the man in a sheet and find some people to carry him to the "treatment room". No one is sad, no one is scared, no one even cares.... in fact someone cracks a joke.
Medication Administration:
There is a sheet at the end of the bed where the doctor writes what should be prescribed. The family takes the sheet to the pharmacy. The nurse takes the medications from the family and administers them and writes it down on the paper. I administered meds all day and I don't actually know what were any of the diseases I was treating.
I thought we would just be a nuisance but the nurses welcomed us. Just started telling us what to do. In nursing, your senior knows more- just listen to them. At Mulago- they were so nice, never judging our qualifications, just teaching us what they do so that we can help. I understand- because they need it. I taught how to properly drop NG tubes today and they listened... weren't annoyed with me at all. At the end of the day they said "thank you" all smiles....
In the midst of all the problems there are here, there are some things I would like to learn from Africa:
-how to laugh when you are scared
-how to laugh when you are mad
-how to laugh when everything is shit
-how to be patient
-how to be quiet when you don't trust a situation
-how go pole pole and hakuna matata
-how to drive a boda boda

Kampala, Uganda

When Chimp trekking falls through, we hitch a ride with a tour group back to Kampala. We shop in the market all day- something that never gets old for me.... and then out at night. We spend the weekend dancing and making new friends in our new home. When we arrive at our new house, things are mmm... not what expected. We are 30 min out of the city, working in a clinic- not a hospital- and staying with a family who eats at 1030 at night, doesn't want us out past 9pm and lives in a locked compound, and we are sleeping in a room filled with mosquitoes and no place to hang a net. Not pleased. But on the bright side I have not paid and my friends are coming in handy- picking me up and hopefully finding me work elsewhere. I really don't care how nice she is- just doesn't work for me. So today we are going to sort it out.

Murchison Falls, Uganda

It occurs to me that I may sound a little insensitive to the poverty in Africa. I'm not. My point is only that things are different here and I see positives with the negative. Positives that Africans don't articulate to me because they have nothing but America on the TV to compare their country to. I'm reading The Sum of Our Days by Isabel Allende and she so eloquently puts what Ive been noticing around me:
"At first it was difficult for Willie to understand my obsession with gathering my children around me, to live as close to them as possible and to add others to that small base to form a large, united family I had always dreamed of. Willie considered it a romantic fantasy, impossible to carry out on the practical level, but in the years we've lived together not only has he realized that this is the way that people live in most parts of the world, but also that he likes it. A tribe has its inconveniences, but also its advantages. I prefer it a thousand times to the American dream of absolute freedom, which, though it may help in getting ahead in this world, brings with it alienation and loneliness."

I'm currently in Murchison Falls, Uganda which in its day was one of the premier game parks. Poachers killed most of the wildlife but today Rhinos have been reintroduced and most of the other wildlife present has returned to normal numbers.
To get here we leave at 7am - sick again from something we ate haha. Get on the bus with shit tummies and proceed to travel from Rhuengeri, Rwanda to Murchison Falls, Uganda. This is a 48 hour journey. 14hr Bus, 4 hours sleep, 5hour bus, 3 hour matatu of death (breaks down twice, nearly kills 2 separate bicycles and when the African's scream you know it was serious. Even if they are still laughing. We skid all over the road in the van-with all 25 passengers braced for impact... and it is clear to me that I have a guardian angel- a team of guardian angels ;)), 1 hour ride in a mattress truck, half an hour motorbike with full pack= future back surgery. My boda boda driver's name is "trust" -right- which I find ironic for a number of reasons. He guesses that I'm 16 years old- as most people do. My little blonde friend is usually presumed to be 30 because they think her hair is white. This is funny for a few reasons: 1- this is not the first blonde they've ever seen surely because Africa isn't that isolated, 2- because people don't grey at 30 here, 3- because her hair is clearly yellow not white, and 4- because she's 23...... oh and finally because it really pisses her off. She's a diamond though and we wander around this part of Africa together- laughing and taking care of each other. Plus she knows all the songs from Mary Poppins- she's British.. not her fault, but me- I have no excuses.
We take a boat along the Nile- which is filled with hippos, elephants, crocs, and birds along the banks. We are riding up to the falls. It's "one of the most spectacular things to happen to the Nile" according to Lonely Planet: East Africa 2003- which, in our experience, is FOS (full of shit). But in this case, the falls are TREMENDOUS. They fill the word to it's full extent. We are blown away by its obvious power. We also go on a game drive which is beautiful but not all that impressive as far as animals go- giraffe, buffalo, elephant- no lions ;) Luckily we pay 1/4 price.

Random VIllages, Rwanda

So we decide to stay an extra day. Why? mmmm we never know. My friend Laurent drives us out to the lakes and Nikki and I wander down into the villages along the shore. We hear singing coming from the church so we decide to go. 10 minutes later we are addressing the congregation and being told that the minister is praising god for delivering guests. The children and adults are dancing and singing through the whole service. What strikes me about these moments is how nurturing the environment is here. The babies are everyone's children. The responsibility is shared. Babies are running around with knives, hitting each other over the head, 6 year olds are toting their infant siblings on their backs, moms lying back and watching it all happen. Moms are lying around together. The men here hold hands and hold each other. Sure everyone knows everyone's business but they obviously take good care of each other too. We receive a friendly greeting at all the villages we go to. Older women stop to receive us and invite us into their homes. At these remote villages we gather a crowd of about 20-30 people wherever we are. Everyone laughs and jokes with each other, hugs each other. This is the Rwanda that we were hoping to find and we did. This is the spirit that makes me say people in these small villages complaining about money can't see how rich they are in community. Once you have a roof and food and safety- community is the most important thing to a human being. We travel all day. We've prefected the art of hitching, the ability to communicate without knowing the language, and the ability to make people laugh when they have their hand out. I have spent 3 days on the back of Laurent's bike with a Swahili dictionary in one hand. From what I gather- he considers himself a cowboy.

Rhuengeri, Rwanda

We travel here to hike a volcano. This is more like it. Here the people stare- they dont smile... BUT when you smile their face breaks wide open with welcome. This is more of the Africa that I have the pleasure of coming to know over the past months. We climb the Volcano for 4 hours- but at the top is a beautiful crater lake. The other side of the crater is the Congo- so we bring an armed guard with us for "the animals". On the hike down- not only do I experience the inconvience of a dodgy tummy, but it begins to hale as I stop time and time again. The rain turns the mountain into a mudslide and we are covered by the time we emerge from the woods 4 hours later. My boda boda driver is waiting for me- an adorable boy named Laurent. He takes one look at me and shakes his head. Later when we get a flat tire- I draw a crowd of 20-30 people watching me try to scrape the mud from my shoes and body. Here a muzungu is fascinating. A man told me people like to see the muzungu tourist here because it means the security in the country is good. And it is. Its incredibly safe and pumped with forgien aid. We take long ice cold bucket showers when we get back .... just the thing for a hard days work. "I love Africa" Nikki says as a group of 5 men gather to watch us do our laundry. They have brought chairs for the occasion. Oh Africa.....

Kigale, Twanda

I woke up last night and realized that maybe I shouldnt have shared that bit about the banana ;) Yeah- it was funny at the time. So anyway- back to Rwanda. Went out in Kigale, Rwanda and it was a strange experience. The music was western, the clothing was minimal, the attitude was western. The club was the nicest we've been to. The boy outside the club tells me Rwanda is a bad country because there is no money- yet its the only place in Africa that Ive seen street lights, nicely paved roads, nice cars. I mean if you didnt look too closely you'd think you were in the states. No $- well that may be true for some. I have'nt seen a lot of the country but in Kigale there's a lot of money. There's a gloominess, a sulleness, a reserve... I can't quite put my finger on it. Then Nikki turns to me and says "the fact of the matter is that everyone here is either a victim or participated". Im looking around and Im remembering back to the morning when a young boy told me that all Americans are rich and the book in the bookstore that said "Millions- what our American neighbors are hiding" and I was struck by what it must be like to blame another country for your problems. Granted it is easier for me to get a loan- there are things that are easier for me. But- I get asked often to pay for people's schooling or car and I say- yes I would like those things too. The complaints are similar and it makes me sad that people here can't see how much they do have. America has it's own set of problems and that isn't witnessed by the rest of the world. That said- I know that I am priveledged. I just think that well- just because things are different here does'nt neccessarily mean disadvantage. I just feel like I would rather give money to a mother working in the feilds than to the random people that come up to me with their hand out. What if I stopped someone who looked wealthy on my way to work and said "hey give me some money".... it's equivilent.

Rwanda

We make friends with some Overlanders (people on tours in trucks) and they give us a lift to Kigale, Rawanda. This is cool for two reasons: one- it's free and two- we are traveling in style. The overland truck feels like traveling in an armoured tank- dealing with Africa is optional. We're are glad for the experience and glad to leave. We head first to the genocide memorial and it is effective. I cry through the whole thing. We sit outside in silence and put on our packs. When you look around this country you feel like you are looking at participants and victims and it's a bit haunting. People here stare and dont smile. More later..... computer dieing

Lake Bunyoni

To get to lake Bunyoni we hired a car from Bwindi. Much to our amusement we had a driver and his name was Jackson. Jackson annoyed us endlessly by asking us how he can catch a muzungu... which is a question we get asked like 5 times a day. "To catch a muzungu you must listen" we said " and have a boda boda, 5 goats, and an endless supply of chiapatis".... to this Jackson would always say "yes but how do you catch a muzungu" rendering him a lost cause. As annoying as he was- he let me drive and that was really fun till I backed the car into a hole. Not to worry- hakuna matata- me and some others just pushed it out again. If there is something I have learned in Africa- everything can be fixed, dont worry, just relax... if you dont know what to do just stand around and stare at your problem till something happens.
Our trip to Lake Bunyoni was a drive through the mountains- hence private transport- and it was beautiful. Farm land and jungle. At one point we looked at each other and realized we were really in the middle of nowhere. But 3 hours later we arrived at a town and asked Jackson to pull over so that we could take a picture of the farm land all over the mountains. When we got out we could hear "halo muzungu" echoing all over the mountains and when we squinted we could see little kids here and there jumping up and down and waiving, a mile away from us and each other. Lake Bunyoni was beautiful. We went and rented a canoe for a couple bucks and took it out to one of the islands. I turned out to be the only one who could steer the dug out canoe so I was dubbed Captian Jackie Sparrow for the day and my arms still hurt. Jackie, jessa, josey, justin- these are the names I respond to in Africa- mine is simply impossible. The way to paddle a dug out canoe is to go "slowly slowly" or else you do what is dubbed the "muzungu corkscrew" which we dabbled in for a few hours to begin with, going in circles and laughing. We even brought a local who proved to be useless at paddeling but at one point randomly blurted out that one could loose their virginity with a banana thus redeeming himself and becoming the butt of our jokes for the rest of the day. Oh Africa......

Bwindi Impenetrable Forest

The name lends itself to just about a million jokes but in all seriousness Bwindi is incredible. We took a 12 hour bus to get there and never even stood up once. At every stop people come on the bus to sell you fresh food anyway- we never noticed that we never got up which we realized means we are a little too used to Africa haha. So we took a truck through the mountains of Uganda to arrive at the Impenatrable Forest and it was stunning. Like many parts of the world - they farm landscape seemingly too steep to farm.. and people there dont see much muzungus- people just turned around to stare at us on the bus. In Bwindi it was different. A Gorilla permit cost us $400, so everyone there knows how much you paid and expect a cut for themselves. Despite this, we made a lot of nice friends in Bwindi and after a while they began to believe that we didnt have money pouring from our pockets. Seeing the Gorillas was nothing short of what it was famed by other travelers to see. There are 640 mountain gorillas in the world. I was 3 feet from one of them and he was looking me right in the eyes. We bushwacked through the rainforest following them for an hour. They are so human like. It was sweet to see how they took care of their young with such patience. Babies climbing everywhere, getting into all kinds of trouble, .. parents lounging, eating, scooping them back up. And when they travel the babies just hang on for the ride. I am so grateful to my family for pitching in for such an incredible Christmas present. You made me feel like a very lucky girl :)
In Bwindi we were impressed to see some really great programs that are actually working (this is not always the case). If you are looking for something nice to give your money to this season here are a couple of programs where the money is distributed responsibly:

Bwindi Orphan Development Center
http://sites.google.com/site/bwindiorphanage/

Bwindi Community Hospital
www.bwindihospital.com

Excerpts from my book:
A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah
Stories of a child soldier in Sierra Leone

From Rehab:
"Whenever I turned on the tap water, all I could see was blood gushing out. I would stare at it until it looked like water before drinking or taking a shower. Boys sometimes ran down the hall screaming "the rebels are coming". Other times, the younger boys sat by rocks weeping and telling us that the tocks were their dead family members. Then there were those instances when we would ambush the staff, tie them up, and interrogate them about the whereabouts of their squad, ammunition..... We were given school supplies and told to go to school between 10 and 2 but each time we were given supplies we would make campfires with them."

There are thousands of children soldiers around the world- but I was suprised to read that their are many in Uganda and 40,000 children commute in northern Uganda to larger villages so they wont be abducted at night and forced into serving.

New Years

Escaped to Kampala, Uganda- the capitol- for New Years and it did not disappoint. We met some of our muzungu friends from Jinja and went out. Nikki and I lost them- headed for somewhere more local and it was awesome. They shut down the street and had all the local artists perform till 6am. There were fireworks overhead and a snow machine snowing on us. They played the best oldschool, new hip-hop. Never in the states could you see your favorite artists performing all night. And they can dance.. Nikki and I danced all night long in a sea of Ugandans who just love to have a good time. No one was puking, no one was stumbling. Beer optional. It was impressive.

Jinja, Uganda

Uganda is a bit different. I hate to say this to all the lovers of Kenya but I think I like Uganda better. The people are friendlier, not so much prostitution, people don't hound you for money, and they even start with a fair price half the time.
Christmas- Nikki and I are staying on a Muzungu compound for our rafting excursion. It's well designed so that you never have to leave ;) However- we are addicted to local food and people. So we make some friends in town who invite us for Christmas. My christmas I spend cooking with 8 young women. They take us in like family and we work hard ;) Like I said Uganda is friendly. We go to church with them in a mud hut with beautiful fabric as the decorations. None of this strikes me as unusual anymore. In fact all I see is community and that feels very "Christmasy" to me despite the lack of familiar carols. Nikki hands me a dirty sock with rocks in it for christmas and an R Kelly Tshirt I had been eyeing for days. The rocks are for eating- like african vitamins- I wouldnt make this up. My christmas is complete. We go out dancing and it's packed. Its awesome. Territorial ugandans are fighting over women left and right and we are laughing and dancing. And then my whole family calls and I am so grateful that just like these Africans I am lucky to have my own community.
In the following days we recover entirely from Malaria but then eat pizza with telapia on it and get sick again haha.
We finally raft the nile which I call 'swim the nile' since we dump in every rapid causing me to yell at our guide "come on man, just give us one". And when 'the nervous nurses and dave' finally make it over our first rapid without flipping we are so excited that we are giving each other high-fives and missing half the time. Class 5 rapids - not a problem. But trying to kayak class 3s put me and nikki over the edge. I did it and with a huge smile. But I can say this "its no easy" and I was scared.