#3 - May 19th 2007

The rollercoaster…

What is it that they say about an idle mind? Perhaps I’m getting confused with some other saying, but what I say is that it is dangerous and leads to less-than-positive thoughts and feelings. Between a busy morning with the ‘Saturday Club’ and an interesting night in downtown Kampala, I had a lazy afternoon which allowed for all sorts of ponderings about why I am here, what I am or should be doing, what my future holds and how this trip is relevant to that, and so on and so forth. I think I underestimated how different this all would be from the life I was used to living in Victoria as a student. There, I was surrounded by friends, and my family was a short drive away. I had control over where I went and what I did, I knew how to get around the city, how to get help if I needed it, and could chose to be independent or reliant depending on my mood. It was easy to ‘get away from it all’ by going for a hike up Mt.Tolmie, or be in the midst of people by planning a big night on the town. Here in Uganda that world ceased to exist.

I realize I’ve only been here for three days but I am completely and utterly dependant on Natalie and Peter. I can barely leave the house without them. Although most people here speak some English, I have yet to decipher the thick Ugandan accent and constantly have to ask for people to repeat themselves. Secondly, I cannot seem to figure out the money thing (big surprise there, it involves math), both because I don’t know which coins are what amount, and I have no idea if I’m paying a reasonable about for things. Thirdly, you can’t just leave the hospital compound where I live and go for a leisurely walk. You exit the compound right onto a busy road with dozens of taxi cars, matatu vans and bodabodas wanting to give you a ride; you must know where to get off because its not like they announce your stop, and road signs are few and far between. Natalie and Peter know the city so well, its completely impressive…I have a lot to learn. I don’t know what the food written on the menus represent so Nat and Peter order for me, and because of the whole money issue I can’t yet get food from the corner stands by myself. Also, I’m not entirely sure how safe it would be for me to go walking around downtown by myself until I get my bearings and can navigate the city, the people, and the ‘economics’ better.

The uncomfortable feeling that settled within me today stemmed from a situation at the Saturday Club this morning. This club is for children ages 3-17 who are HIV positive, in hopes of allowing them to socialize in an environment where they won’t be stigmatized. There were about 30 kids there today; they colored, sang songs, and played on the playground at the hospital. These kids were all far more shy than the African Heart boys, and it took me about an hour to work up a rapport with a few of them, which I did by ‘lending’ them my camera. One of the oldest girls did a solo singing performance and I was totally blown away – amazingly she came up to me after and asked if I could video record her, which I did…hopefully I can place the video on youtube soon. Two things stuck me during my time with these kids. They were asked to draw pictures of how they felt about HIV, and while I was sitting there drawing flowers and trees (I never claimed to be an artist people…) they began drawing coffins and writing things like, “My mom and dad died from AIDS,” and “My sister and I are the only ones left.” I wanted to feel deeply saddened by this, but honestly I feel so far removed from their situation it is impossible for me to understand their experiences and my tears would do little to comfort them. Instead I complimented their meticulous artwork and printing and happily answered their questions about Canada and my family. I tried to give them something positive rather than focus on the negative that they live with everyday. There were some other Mazungus there who were snapping away with their cameras, not even taking a moment to talk to the kids, colour or play with them, or even get close to them. After awhile one of them pulled out a bag of beaded bracelets (only for the girls) and told the children to get in line. The woman then practically demanded that I take pictures of her giving the bracelets out, “because the people who made them needed proof.” I politely declined. She was snappy and demanding of the children and there was a complete lack of compassion or altruism. Thus, you can imagine that for the rest of the day I had a nagging voice in the back of my mind questioning my motivations for coming to Uganda, reminding me that there are right ways and wrong ways to go about ‘helping’ people and that I had better choose the former if I expect to complete this journey in a respectable, decent manner.

Peter’s dad took us to an Indian restaurant for dinner, and boy was it ever ‘ritzy’; moist towelettes before your dinner, your chair tucked in for you, two servers just for your table, the best service I’ve ever had, and quite possibly some of the best food. For those that don’t know, there is quite a large Indian population in Uganda (although former president Idi Amin attempted to curb that trend), and wow, the Ugandans sure knew how to present an Indian dish. Walking home was the…interesting…part of the evening. At least every third person you pass says, “Mazungu, how are you? How is Uganda?” and smiles and waves. No one begs or cat-calls, or yells at all really, although there are hundreds upon hundreds of people lining the streets, lying on blankets, some with very small children sitting with them. Two things got to me. Having spent three day with my very young cousin Lina in the Nederlands before I came to Uganda, I got used to caring for a tiny baby, and realized what a work-load they truly are. Lina was fed and changed several times a day, and although she barely ever fussed or cried, she was still a lot of work for her parents to handle. I saw a mother tonight, homeless with only a blanket under her, breastfeeding a tiny baby on the street. I have no concept of how she even gets through a day. This next thing that I saw may be hard to read. As we walked on past the mother and I tried to deal with that in my mind, we walked up to a small form on the corner of a busy intersection. It was a child no older than 10 months completely alone, eating from a pile of dirt. I couldn’t even react, complete shock. Natalie and Peter looked around for some sign of parents and after about 2 minutes a young boy of maybe seven came over and scooped up the child. A seven year old and a 10 month old, alone on the streets, orphaned or discarded, everyone passing them by without a second thought. How do you even begin to deal with that in your mind? I don’t think you can.

I’m sorry if some of these stories seem difficult to read or seem familiar to things you’ve all heard before, I just think that it helps hearing it from someone you know, someone you can trust is telling you the real truth of the matter. I will tell the good and the bad and let you decide for yourself the problems and potential within Uganda. Although, that said, you will never truly understand until you come here. And even then, that may not even be enough.

~Nicole