a few more views of Patongo

Morning tea in Patongo





















local school girls taking a rest

















befriending our goat before the slaughter
(I'm still vegetarian)

Michael Franti and Spearhead : Hello Bonjour

Music that speaks

Emotion

Take some time to look at the emotion on the faces of some youth.

What are you feeling today?

Waking up in your dream; facing reality

What happens when you wake up in your dream? I realized this on Monday, as I was spitting out my toothpaste after brushing my teeth and watching it fall on the ground, splattering across the chicken feathers on the dirt. I had just crawled out of my mosquito net dome, and was eager to see the sky, knowing it would be full of sun by this point. I was surrounded by huts, and children and mothers were lining up at the water point to fill their jerry cans. Here I was in the middle of this IDP camp, with the Acholi people; assisting with a program that I really believe in. A place I had yearned to be; and yearned to be contributing to something meaningful to assist this situation; and there I was; I had arrived; I was at the place I had been dreaming about.

We drove for a while down a dirt path and arrived at the camp where our meeting was going to be held for the next 3 days. As people were mingling and trickling into the camp, I began talking with a man named Bosco: ‘Yes, we left early this morning to come here today.’ Curious as to what his journey was like, I asked a few more questions, such as: How did he get here?

Bosco replied ‘We walked a long ways, then we came to the river, we then tie our clothes on our head, and swim across, then walk some more distance to arrive here.’
‘Aren’t there creatures in the water you are fearful of' I asked.
‘Small crocodiles and snakes, yes Madam’, speaking confidently.
"Why did you decide to come today?"
‘We have no clean water in our camp, no latrines, and we need assistance with hygiene, so maybe we will see if Medair can help us’ Bosco replied.

Thinking about what the people go through to get to what must seem like only a glimmer of hope for some locations that are lacking basic facilities, I decided to walk around this camp. It was my first visit to this particular camp. I set out and begin curving through the maze of huts and am immediately crowded by any child in sight, now walking with about 30 behind; I sit down on a log to say a proper hello to them. Giggles, handshakes, and some photos. Later I continued walking and met an older gentlemen who was insistent I meet his wife and see his home. He spoke some English, so we communicated a bit as we walked to his home, passing families along the way. Seeing the clusters of families made me miss my own. We arrived at his hut, and there was his wife, with a shaved head, beautiful beads, a glowing smile and holding her straw broom for sweeping the dirt. Eager to have her picture taken, she motioned me to wait a moment while she changed into her nice dress; she reappeared in a brilliant yellow one; click, snap, digitally recorded. More women came over and were simultaneously pulling on my hair, not believing it was my real hair and not extensions. Politely asked if I would give them my hair, I politely refused and we all laughed. Walking back past many huts, I was about to meet with my team again, not realizing my perception of what was happening inside the huts would soon change.

I approached one of my team members who was having a conversation with a man from this camp; it seemed his brother was very sick and needed to get to a hospital. This happens quite a bit with people approaching us for assistance; some valid, some not, but we need to find out. Since our vehicle is not an ambulance, and we don’t have medical staff with us; I wasn’t sure what we could do, or even what was going on. The village man showed me his notebook which had a referral from a doctor written the week before; they just didn’t have the means to get to the hospital. I asked if I could see his brother; to evaluate how sick he was and to see if it was a problem that we could assist with in some way. I followed him to his hut on the same snake-like path I had just been on; wondering if I had just walked past their hut a few minutes ago; and realizing that I had had no idea that there was an extremely sick man just on the other side of a mud wall.

As we crawled through the doorway, there was just enough light in the round hut to see that there were about 9 other people inside and 4 children. On the right side was the 30 year old brother, curled up on his side, gasping for air. The second I saw him I knew that it was serious. He was extremely frail, and unable to move, eat, speak or drink. In fact, I had never seen someone this ill; except perhaps in documentary photos of the Ethiopia famine. As I was sitting on the floor with the family, talking with the help of a translator, the hut grew quiet and we prayed with the family, as it was clear they were in distress over the state of their son. I put my hand on their son, he felt very hot and I felt tears building up, but tried to hold them back for reasons I’m unsure of. After making some calls to the local authorities, and with no local resources pulling through; we realized that our vehicle was the only way to get this man closer to a hospital. Walking back to the meeting place of the community; down that path for the second time, I wondered how many other huts were experiencing the same grief inside? Was this the only one, or were they all filled with similar situations? My previous walk seemed to only reveal what was right in front of me and my lens. Finishing up our meeting in the community, we drove to the hut and picked up the family in the back of our Landcruiser and drove them to the next large camp that was set alongside a major road. It was a bumpy and quiet ride.

We offered to pay their way to the hospital; as we couldn’t make it there and back in the day; and the family was planning to leave in the morning. Today I called to check on their status; and apparently the family had thought he had died that evening, so borrowing a wheelbarrow they all made their way back to their home to have the burial the next day. Upon arrival at the camp, however, they discovered that their son had begun breathing again. But they realize he is very close to death, and would like him to pass with them in their home now.

So, the dream of being here is real. Real with having the life to be here, and facing the death and sorrow that’s a reality as well.

A different look at the same Country

So there we were; on the back of the motorcycle 'boda boda', a mountain rainforest breeze flowing through the air, coasting down the hills that divide the SW of Uganda and the DR Congo. Crater lakes were on both sides of us, reaching 400 m in depth, surrounded by banana trees and hills that appeared to have a patchwork quilt thrown over them. Spending some days in another part of the country gave me more of an understanding of the devastation that the war has inflicted on the people in the north. The boda boda led us on a winding dirt road up to the top of a sharp hill next to a crater lake. There we found an orphanage: it was a community project, with funds from our payment for a nightly hut rental benefiting the 150 orphans that the project was supporting.

When I woke up in the cool misty morning, crawling out of my mosquito net, opening up the hut door and sipping on my coffee while observing these children, I wondered what looked so different to my eyes. As they ran around the yard, laughing, tossing balls, playing hopscotch and imaginary games, I realized that these children are well-fed, nourished, clothed, and have the behaviours of normal developing children. The children that it has become normal for me to see in the IDP camps are mostly naked, or have the same torn clothing on every day, have bloated bellies that are a result of malnourishment, are usually covered in dirt, with runny noses and flies, and don't have the opportunity to develop as those that live in a healthy environment; and yes, they have smiles, as you've seen; but they are in a state of life they didn't have a choice of growing up in. So as I sat there I thought, well, this does seem like an obvious point that one would make, even before seeing these places, but there is something different about experiencing it with your own eyes and ears. It seems to drive me even more to work with these people for this cause.

Smiles

Children always brightening a walk with their smiles.
It's been 4 weeks in Patongo IDP camp; and I feel I'm finally getting a bigger grasp of the programs being implemented here through Medair; the needs and the response to them. It feels like home now; walking through the camp every day, seeing the same familiar faces, the beautiful mother sitting with her daughter under her thatched roof, the men sanding wood in the shade of a mango tree, the excited children that give 'high 5's' on the walk home now, the same three cows tied near the burning rubbish pit, the pregnant pig that's always snorting in the mud, the mother with baby Rosie who always welcomes me to cuddle the baby on my way home from work. I'm enjoying being here with the Acholi people, and with the team we are working and living with.

Visiting the smaller settlements of displaced people outside of Patongo, we are meeting with communities to listen to their assessment of the public health issues they are facing. Most of the time they prioritize the issues as not having a place to go the bathroom--resulting in faeces out in the open--increasing the spread of diarrhoeal diseases, lack of bathing shelters, no hand washing facilities in the community, no access to clean drinking water, schools that 1,500 students and have no bathrooms or handwashing facilities. We are helping support action plans to address these in about 40 different camps in the area through the Water Sanitation portion of our program. I'm managing part of that sector, with a team of 5 national Ugandan staff. There is also a psycho-social program to support the vulnerable children who are orphans, returned LRA rebels, people with disabilities, and cases of abuse. As you may have seen in the news, there have been recent talks between the LRA rebel leaders and the Ugandan President; which has created some anticipation for the Acholi who are displaced and living in cramped, unnatural ways in the camps. The result of the peace talks may encourage or discourage people to move back 'home'. Our Medair team has a 1 week break currently and are resting and relaxing currently; and I'll have the chance to see different areas of the country. Already the difference of the 'war' region and the rest of the country is starkly obvious.

How to invite people to a meeting....

The sorghum wheat and sunflowers are taller than our vehicle on either side, we’re bouncing up and down, riding over crater like potholes, and Alfred, one of my African team members, tells me “Yes, this is how you keep your body strong, and stay fit, you have to hang on very tight.”

I can already tell my left arm has been doing the work of steadying my body over the endless jerking of the vehicle. The breeze flowing through the windows feels like a blessing; and I question why they’re being rolled up. “You see, here in Uganda we have limited eye care, so we must take all precautions; close the windows.” As he’s saying this, I got jabbed in the cheek by loose particles flying in the window as the 12 foot tall crops are inviting themselves into our open windows; I assist in rolling them up. We’re on our way to 3 IDP camps (Internally Displaced People), where we’re to meet with the camp commanders and the local camp leaders to set up a meeting the next week with them and their community about identifying what the camp needs are; essentials like water, a place to go to the bathroom.

Arriving at the camp, there’s about 50 round mud huts, all roofed with dried straw, swept dirt ground, there are women walking with water and firewood balanced on their heads, children walking with younger siblings tied to their backs, children running free, chickens, goats, and a few wandering cows. These are all good signs for this community - despite the lack of basic living essentials and poverty, they’ve been able to establish a safe area outside of the huge mother camp of Patongo. Peace has been stable enough, and if it continues, the next step will be to continue home to their villages. It's been 20 years since they were there.

The camp commander sees we’ve arrived, approaches us, and tells us to follow him to his office as he hops on the back of a bicycle, leaving us a trail of dust to follow. Following it, we stop, and although I see no ‘office’ in sight, I am told we’ve arrived. I look up, and see it’s a giant mango tree. So we gather around, underneath the shading branches, appreciating that this office has a natural air conditioner. The 2nd camp is much the same, and this time I find myself looking for the mango tree, anticipating that it must be someone's “office”. In this meeting I peered around the edge of the vehicle and saw a collection of people had gathered, curious as to what these conversations were about. It appeared a bit like the game of telephone, where one person hears the message, and then whispers it to the next, and the next. As we depart for the 3rd camp, and travel down the previous road, I sense this one might be a bit further to get to from the directions Alfred is giving our driver Tito: “Yes, look for the small stick on the right, that is where we turn”. Sure enough, there it was. I barely saw it, but we turned and now were driving down what seemed like a walking path that only 3 people had ever been on, through the 12 foot high field that smashed against the vehicle. After driving for quite some time, there is a discussion about where to go next, and then a woman and man are spotted ahead. Appearing about 70 years old, I am trying to imagine where they are walking to, considering the distance we’ve been driving. She tells us in her local language of Luo, that they’re going to collect food from the World Food Program distribution air drop, and that up ahead we may want to use the 4wd because of all the deep mud holes. Sure enough, the mud holes seemed to swallow more of the car than I cared to see, and this was not yet the rainy season.

Arriving at this camp, we see it's actually only 1 hut at the moment. Apparently more will be coming at some time, but for now the man tells us that he is the camp commander. (By default, I suppose). This meeting is held back among the banana trees, where I see the women are sorting out some spinach-like plants and my eyes are drawn to the handmade sling-shot on the ground. I ask if I can try it, and successfully load a piece of the hardened mud and aim for a close range trunk of the banana tree….hitting it…and smashing the mud ball. While chatting about the business, and discussing the community meeting that will be held next week, we’re all gathered around the spinach plants, sorting out the leaves and forming a gigantic mound of greens preparing to be cooked. As we’re getting ready to leave, I ask the man about the use of his slingshot, wondering if it's for fun or for hunting. He replies “For hunting small birds in the sky”, and proceeds to pull out small, de-feathered bird from his trouser pocket, and says “Here, a gift for you.” After he explained to me how to eat the back legs of the bird, which was not bigger than a robin, I decided to leave it with him and his family as an addition to their spinach dinner.

Returning to our vehicle, without the bird, but with more knowledge of life here, I complimented Tito on the music, and he replied 'Yes, Kathleen, I don't know this man singing, but I always feel like dancing when hearing him !'

As we drove back through the fields of sunflowers, I wondered if I should share the name of this artist, and finally did tell him that it was in fact 'Bob Dylan'.

"Life is not always easy, you know"

Here are some photos from our field visit to IDP camps around Patongo.

Coming into one of the IDP camps that we have a program in.
Meeting with the Camp Commander under the mango tree, discussing the upcoming community meeting.

"Life is not always easy, you know"

Patongo IDP camp; a few reflections

Kampala to Patongo Quentin from the UK, and I flying up to the north together on this tiny plane ! We'll be working closely together, as our programs with Medair are funded together with USAID/OFDA.

Patongo,

morning walks lit by the rising sun over the mountains

women gather by the water points with a line of yellow jerry cans

smiles, waves, greetings,

a family greeting on my morning walk

men on bicycles, dusty trails follow them

children wandering about, torn clothes, smiles, yelling 'mono, mono!' *white person!*

life here is simple, we are only visitors here, to the people living here, this has been their 'home' for 20 years now

some have moved half-way home , to satellite camps, in hopes of a peace deal being signed,

but 30,000 remain here, in Patongo, waiting for an actual deal to hopefully signify a situation that would allow them and their families to return to what was home.

some of their faces reveal hope, others trauma,

2 young kids at a local IDP camp, giggling as they ran around the corner of the building and back several times; seeing their smiles is encouraging !

children who are orphans, and raising their brothers and sisters have perhaps the hardest day to day survival

school is important, tattered uniforms, all barefoot, in the mornings as I ask where they are going, they are proud to say 'I'm fine and today I'm going to school'.

I feel this is the place I'm supposed to be; happy and content ! Alot of work in front of me, learning from the team that's been here will be most exciting. Yesterday, visiting another camp with my hygiene team, made up of 5 Ugandans; I saw their talents shine with these communities; interactions, mobilisation, planning, questions, faciliatation, supplies. As there are 4 of us ex/pats here living with our team of 18 or so Ugandans in 1 compound; it's very lively in the evenings.

Alfred and George, 2 of our team, finishing up facilitating a community meeting in a IDP camp outside of Patongo

I slept under the stars last night, with a mosquito net over me, it was lovely, peaceful and a good space to reflect.

East Africa; Kenya, Uganda, preparing for the move north

So, what has been happening these 3 weeks in east Africa....before moving to the north of Uganda on October 15th ?

*September 25th; arrive from USA, healing from surgery, spend a few days in Kampala, Uganda

* September 28th; Flew to Nairobi, Kenya for a Water Sanitation training with Medair. A collaboration of their program country experts from Darfur, south Sudan, Uganda, Madagascar, Indonesia, Afghanastan, Congo. About 30 people in total, a mix between national staff from those countries, and expat staff; examining current methods for drilling, water sanitation, humanitarian guidelines, Sphere standards, beneficiary accountability, & hygiene promotion. All very interesting, well run, and dynamic with the cross cultural influences.

*Back in Kampala on October 7th, a week long briefing at the Medair base; more information on the programs here, security, structure of the logistics and admin, and driving test (which meant for me, a stick shift on the opposite side of the car, on the opposite side of the road; try a round-a-bout with that !? in Kampala traffic?! ) Independence day was last week and since the office was closed here, I found an orphange to go to and had a splendid time with lovely children. After a busy week of briefings, I decided to escape for a few days of quiet time before the trek to the north. Venturing east of the Kampala to the small town of Jinja, it's at the base of the Nile River where it meets Lake Victoria. I happen upon Amani Baby Orphanage on Saturday, intending to stay for a few hours, but couldn't peel myself away until the sun was setting and I needed to get a boda-boda back the place I was staying. The orphange takes lovely care of the children and the women that work there are just remarkable. There were so many children, some abandoned, parents died, others found in the bottom of pit-latrines and some hiv +. One particular little teeny one, named Matthew, was about 3 months old, but still looked like a premature baby because of his hiv+ status. His eyes are full of life though, and he loves to smile; I wonder how long he'll live and if he'll live long enough to understand that he's sick?

Brian, an Acholi, at the Jordan House Orphanage in Kampala

Africa...cancer?....Africa

So, now its the final leg of flights; tomorrow, Oct. 15th, I'll be departing Kampala, Uganda and arriving in my new home, the Patongo displacement camp in Northern Uganda. Home to approximately 30,000 Acholi people displaced by the 20 year war.

I've been moving around now for about 4 months, training in Geneva, tasting Morocco, enjoying and packing up life in Portland, Oregon, heading back to my home territory in the UP of Michigan, mom, dad, Amanda, Leah, baby Eli's birthday (1!), then in September, departing for a HQ briefing with Medair in Geneva, and directly from there onto Uganda, East Africa. Well, at least that last part was my plan, but clearly it wasn't the plan.

While in Geneva, on September 6th, 12 hours from catching my much anticipated flight to mark the beginning of my new home in Africa, I received an email from my dad. It contained words I didn't want to read, and once I did, I wish I hadn't, or maybe I just had hoped they wouldn't be true. They had just got a report back from the doctor and I did indeed have cancer in my neck, attached to my thyroid. I had to fly home immediately. So, holding a boarding pass for Uganda in one hand, and reading this news on the screen, my mind went blank, I couldn't speak, but I could feel tears rolling down my cheeks. Recycling my ticket to Africa, 10 minutes later I bought a flight home, and literally it was my ticket to life. Why? Because I realize that I was headed to this displacement camp, where if I was a 26 year women born and living there, I would have no access to a chiropractor, thank you Dr. Kalbeida in Marquette, who would have noticed a lump, nor would I have health care at my fingertips, surgeons who rearrange their schedules, endocrinologists who squeeze me in when they don't have openings, labs who rush order, radiologists and nurses who do a procedure on a weekend when they usually never do, and insurance to cover all of it. If I was born in that camp, it would be nearly impossible to have access to all of that, and I would probably just have been a person who died young. So why are we privileged to receive all that? And will they someday have the same care available? I have more questions than answers about this spinning idea.

With many conversations with the surgeon, doctors, research articles, my parents and I tried to make the best decision we could about the surgery to remove the cancer, thyroid, lymph nodes. Because most medicine is based on statistics, there wasn't a clear way to go with this situation, whether to remove 1/2 the thyroid or the whole thing. Both having pros and cons, it felt like I was asking for directions to a place that didn't exist. Every situation had 2 sides, and not a clear way to fall. My head felt like it was at the limit of processing what to do. The surgery day came and went, the 5 hour procedure going well, despite my nerves higher than I've ever felt them. Dr. Heichel is a phenomenal surgeon and took great care opening up such a delicate part on the body; vocal chords, jugular, and other major parts running through this area. Removing the cancerous tumor, 1.4 cm, a lymph node and the left side of my thyroid; I then was waiting for the results of the thorough biopsy of the 3 items they removed.

Perhaps I had thought of that question before, what would I do if I was informed that my life would be shortened? How would I take that news? Would I live differently now? Am I doing what I feel I should be, loving the people I'm with, serving those in the world? If the cancer spread to my lymph nodes, and my life would be cut significantly, what would I do in that time? I had to be ready to hear that....and I'm not sure that I was. The good news was that it had not spread farther than the tumor, and although I will have another surgery, it wasn't necessary now, and could wait awhile. So, pondering some of the hardest thoughts I've had to face, in a short period of time, hoping I made all the right decisions...as my mom told me "if you want to live an interesting life Kathleen, first you have to have a life to live". Recovering at home was peaceful; flowers arrived at the house everyday from loved ones, walks were taken among the fall leaves, canoe rides under the moonlight, laughs sitting my the lake, painting with my sisters, hiking with Eli. And I realize that just because I wasn't told that my life is going to end shorter, doesn't mean that it won't, or yours won't. But, what it does mean is that I have a new feeling inside of me about a "day", and it's hard to put words to it.

With mom and dad in Portland, Oregon

Mama Leah, with Eli Enjoying a night out with my sister Amanda, and friend Jason

I flew to Africa 10 days after my surgery, recovered enough to fly, and healed enough physically to make the long flight. The second goodbye to everyone meant something different from the first; the love and support was reached at a new level and I was now able to continue on my life plans, where as before, it was just a given. When something is questioned or disappears, it gives new meaning to it when you can safely hold it again, and this time with gentle hands. Life.

Eli with his "superstar" pose after a hike up Sugarloaf Mountain