UKC to Super Hole

This weekend, we helped rally the Ugandan Kayak Club for a fun session down to the Super Hole. It was great to be a part of it (among the few mzungus allowed to come). We had about a dozen members from the club all outfitted and ready to go, loaded up the truck, hopped in the back, and off we went for a great Sunday afternoon on the water. I still find myself in amazement of how quickly Ugandans can learn. Some have only been paddling for a few weeks and they already have a solid roll and are shredding it up on the wave. Normally, I am not very good at being the camera bitch, but I was very happy to do so that day. It was fun to watch all the Ugandans kayak and loving every moment of it. We only had one swimmer of the day, but most the guys were already doing flat-water bow stalls and working on their next “big move” on Super Hole. Special thanks again to Karl and Tara for all their hard work to get the UKC up and running.

I have noticed that I have not been kayaking nearly as much as when I originally got here. It was great to be out paddling with the locals though. Sometimes being surrounded by too many mzungu kayakers makes me feel as though I am not actually in Uganda. However, I am not any better than any other mzungu here, but the kayaking scene in general can get a bit overwhelming. The scary thing is that I am scheduled to leave 4 weeks from today, and of course, it feels way too soon. There are still so many things to do, but I am trying to make the most of it, and we will see if that scary March 26th date remains the same.

"Mommy! Mommy!"

I became a mom on Friday. I was not exactly planning it, but walked into the Welcome Home Orphanage for a malaria education session, and within seconds, I was swarmed by ten kids under the age of 4. I made friends instantly, and was quickly distracted from our education session. Luckily, we had plenty of Soft Power Health staff that day so I left the teaching to them and played with the kids instead. “Mommy! Mommy!” the kids would say to get my attention, followed by something in Lusoga or Luganda along the lines of: “I want to play on the swing set.” At first I thought my hearing had gone bad, but after hearing “Mommy” from most of the kids, I finally accepted it and realized I had become a mother overnight (at least, temporarily, which is way too familiar for all of these kids). It was overwhelming, not necessarily the energy spent playing with the kids, but more so from just wondering the reason why every child was there. I wondered how many of them were HIV positive, or at least how many once had parents who died of AIDS. Maybe the saddest part was seeing one of the kids wear a shirt that said, “my mommy loves me” right on the front. Wow. Maybe it is good that the kids do not understand everything in English.

February has always been a hard month; maybe it is the short, cold winter days among the other things that have piled together over the years. I look back on where I was some years ago and still find myself a bit stunned that I am here, alive and kicking it. Life is full of surprises, and I am sure there are more to come. The sun keeps on shining here in Uganda, no matter how many people are dying every day – AIDS, malaria, TB, malnutrition, war – but the living keep on living filled with smiles and high hopes, and that is what truly matters.

Running in Circles

Earlier this week, I had another typical day of getting a patient admitted to the hospital in Kampala (otherwise known as malalu). Of course, it is not all that different back in the States. Rarely can someone walk into a big hospital and get admitted to see a specialist unless he or she has been referred by another physician or walk through the ER and be willing to pay loads of money for the “simple” process of admissions.

Anyway, the day was spent on tour of the Kampala hospitals. First, we went to IHK (International Hospital Kampala) but of course, we were shooed away from the private hospital and sent to Mulago Hospital, instead. Supposedly, IHK does not have an urologist. As we kept walking around in circles of hospitals and wards, I tried to keep myself amused even though our patient is a 3 1/2 year-old boy diagnosed with nephroblastoma 2 days ago. It is all fun and games until it is not. I was very appreciative to have the driver with me because he has connections at Mulago after his own 3 year-old twins were both diagnosed with tuberculosis.

We finally got our patient admitted to the hospital by going through the casualty ward. He was not really a casualty patient, but it was our only option at that point, and luckily, we managed to pull it off but still with the hopes he will see an urologist and oncologist in the next few days. I have been on quite a few trips to IHK, but never have I seen as much as I did in the casualty ward of Mulago. It is so easy to forget the poor: IHK is private and will outright refuse patients, whereas Mulago is sponsored by the government and all the healthcare is supposed to be free; however, who knows if it actually works out that way when the funding comes from the Ugandan government. I also have my doubts of our patient getting good treatment or even seeing an oncologist after initial care.

I have truly enjoyed working at our rural clinic here in Kyabirwa village, but being at Mulago Hospital made me witness the true shortage of medical staff. Maybe it was the fact that the casualty ward was full of trauma and emergency medicine patients and I sat and watched the ambulances coming in and out as we waited. After spending an intense month in Wilderness EMT school, it would be nice to try to use those skills more while I am here. Sometimes the afternoons in the clinic are painfully slow and I wonder if I could be more productive or helpful elsewhere. However, working in rural and 3rd world medicine sure increases my scope of practice; I may not feel as qualified as I should be, but sometimes I just get thrown in and go with the flow.

I have been asked so many times that the questions barely register anymore: “Are you a doctor? A nurse?” Well, not really. “Are you a social worker?” Umm…sure, sounds great. However, no matter what my background is, I still find myself getting much more experience here than I could back in the States. It could be starting an IV, distributing drugs in the pharmacy, removing stitches at the NRE bar with scissors, tweezers, and a headlamp, or walking home from the clinic and getting pulled into a family’s hut to see a 6 year-old girl crying and screaming while itching head to toe from ant bites. Ah hah! So what’s next in my life? Only time will tell.

Goodbyes on a Happy Note

It has been a bittersweet week here at Bujagali as everything starts to quiet down: Jim and Sheri returned briefly and are now continuing their way south after being in Africa for over 2 years, Karl and Tara returned to the States after starting the UKC, a few of the guides went back to the UK to get some work done, and Jessie left for the States, leaving me and Anna in charge of the show for a few weeks. I guess it is one of the hardest parts about traveling: making friendships and connections and wondering if I will ever see them again. I am definitely planning on it; we will just see how long it takes this time. Luckily, we were able to squeeze in a few play days before everyone left. Will had to get some photos of all the rapids for a guidebook of the While Nile. Long story short: we took a raft down the entire 45 km so Will could get some photos. Originally I thought it was going to be a nightmare having a paddle raft with 3 raft guides and one “soon-to-be” guide, but we survived. It probably helped that Will just sat up front with a waterproof camera and took photos at the top of every rapid instead of actually paddling. We were all really surprised (and quite disappointed) by the time we made it through the Bad Place and still had only flipped the raft once at Bubugo (which was more so intentional than anything else). We did realize that when all of us were trying to dry flip the raft at Bubugo, it probably would not work out that well.

Of course, we made it down to the Nile Special right before dark (since we started after 1:00 that afternoon) and ended the day by surfing in the raft. We let out a little air, ferried on, and held on tight, laughing in hysterics as surfed a 16-foot raft on the Special. The lighting was not the greatest, but Anna still managed to get some good shots.

Annie returned to Uganda this last weekend. It is great to have her back, but somewhat surreal to hear about life back in the States. Of course, Annie did not make it easy on herself by only visiting the big cities one after another (i.e New York, Los Angeles, and Seattle), but it reminded me of how unexcited I am to get back to the States. Time sure flies by here, but luckily, Anna and I were able to keep things together while both Jessie and Annie were away. However, I am not that disappointed to put Annie back in charge of logistics, drivers asking for more money, monthly paychecks, etc. The language barrier always makes negotiating and planning even more exciting.