Full circle

Back in February when I was making the layout for this blog I googled photos of Uganda to try and find a striking picture to use as the banner.  The one I ended up using is by far the most beautiful photo I came across (of course, this is before I came home with about 2000 photos of my own).
This past week I took a good look at the banner photo, and realized that this is Mgahinga National Park - the place that we spent our last 5 days in Uganda because it was too beautiful to leave.  To orient you a bit: in the photo on here, the volcano on the very far left - just the other side of the tree - is Sabinyo, the volcano that we hiked.  On it's summit you stand simultaneously in Rwanda, Uganda, and the Congo.  We opted to have lunch in the Congo that day.  In the middle is Gahinga volcano, which is where we tracked the mountain gorillas.
It all comes full circle!

 The more I think about it, the more I realize that there's no point in trying to summarize the whole experience in one post.  I just can't - there's too much to say, too many angles and aspects, too many stories to tell, too many people who touched my heart.  I just posted a bunch of pictures on facebook, and when I was looking through my captions the second time around I realized just how many times I used the word 'favourite.'  'This is Tatiana - she's my favourite,' 'Look at that smile, he's totally my favourite,' 'Giraffes are my new favourite,' and on, and on, and on.  [sidenote - you can see these photos here].  So, I won't try to summarize.  I won't try to tell you how it's impact my life, because I expect that I'll keep discovering the ways that Uganda has changed me long after I'm back and settled into the routine here.

I journal a lot, and in my journal I always use the first page for quotes that inspire me.  This one is at the top of the page, written before I left Canadian soil:
"There are many things in life that will catch your eye, only a few will catch your heart... pursue those."
In Uganda I found a few things that caught my heart.
Next step: pursue them!

Uganda-sick.

Yes, I'm home. (*tear*)  No, but really.  Tears were involved.

And yes, I'm already back to the North American pace.  Only because I've been forced to move back at this pace.  The African pace is much more enjoyable!

I want to write one final wrap up post though, but can't seem to squeeze it in amongst new placements, papers, reports, research and just good old catching up with friends (phew - at least there's one positive thing in there).

But it's coming - I promise.

In the meantime, now that I have a fast internet connection again, some videos for your viewing pleasure!!

First - meet Emma.  Emma # 1, actually.  There were 2 Emma's at Mengo and I adored both of them.  Emma 1 was a huge goofball... and a big teddybear.  Good combo.



Next:  From the riots back in March.  This is a video I took from the front porch of the guesthouse.  You can't see anything really (look hard through the trees on the right hand side though), but you can definitely hear how close they were.



And last, but not least (and probably not actually the last one - I'll likely post a few more now that I've got the hang of this...) a little gem from our safari.  This was just plain good luck that I had the camera rolling while this big fella decided to say 'hello.




Have I mentioned yet that I miss Uganda?

Tracking the Mountain Gorillas

We woke early in the morning to a beautiful sunrise and a very clear sky.  We took off by 7:30am with our guide Johns and our 'protector' Ben (i.e. the one with the rifle).


We walked for most of the morning through farmland on the border of Mgahinga National Park – a small natinoal park that is continuous with parks in the Congo and Rwanda. It was so beautiful. Hands down the most gorgeous part of Uganda that I’ve seen.

After about 3 hours Johns told us that we were getting close to the family. I got nervous. Really – like butterflies in my stomach kind of nervous. We then met up with another guide, who had tracked the troop earlier in the morning and had since been giving us directions. We kept walking. We passed two huge piles of gorilla poo. I got really, really nervous. We met up with a third guide, and at this point Johns told us to get our cameras ready. My stomach settled immidiately.

We walked through the dense bush, and 5 metres in front of us was a giant, black, beautiful female mountain gorilla munching on leaves with her baby doing the same beside her. It seemed surreal.

We spent the next hour with this family. There are 9 gorillas in total, including two silverbacks. We saw only 4 – and the silverback was a surprise. We were sitting and watching one of the females climb up a tree that appeared far too small to bear her weight, when a huge shriek came from behind us. It was the silverback, and it scared the shit out of me! Turns out that one of the guides was standing between him and the rest of his troop. We moved – quickly. The silverback then lay down to rest and we got about 10 metres away, watching him roll slightly, grunt occasionally – all in all it was kind of slow. Then he hopped up. Again, scaring the shit out of me. He gave a grunt, which the guards understood to mean ‘get outta the way.’ So, we got out of the way and he lumbered past us, not more than 5 feet away. (unfortunately no pics of this - the clearest view we had of him - but I do have a video that I'll try to upload once I'm on a fast internet connection again).

We spent the next hour watching them sit and eat and play and roll and grunt and scratch and climb trees. It was incredible. Oddly enough, the most memorable and striking things were the noises. The sound of the mama’s giant hand scratching her behind which sounded shockingly like wood on really coarse sandpaper. Being close enough to hear her grind the leaves between her teeth. Listening the the silverback's sighs as he slept in the sun.

People we met beforehand told us it would be lifechanging. I don’t think I would say that – but it was defniitely an epic experience.

Langour

"Langour is underrated.  It is not possible to be immobile in modern urban society except by dint of constant effort.  Holding on tightly to the riverbank and fighting the current is not langour.  Nobody likes that.  But bone-lazy idleness, hours and hours spent staring at the sky and remembering books and birthdays and graet kisses: this is a pure pleasure that eludes the productive in all their confident superiority.  Langour is sunny and hot.  It is at home near the sa and is best appreciated in environments of beauty and limited promise.  It contains within it the idea of boredom, but is also coloured by idle fancy, and the understanding that some things proceed best with limited attention.  Fishing, for instance.  If you're always reeling in and checking your bait, you'll only worsen your chances.  Relax."
- Kevin Patterson, The Water in Between

Rwanda has been a place full of langour.  It's been lovely.  All the more lovely because oddly enough, here our relaxed paced is only accentuated by the surprisingly quick pace of the Rwandans around us.  The past few days have been full of delicious food, cold beers drank slowly, long walks in the sun, and good conversations.

I don't feel like I've really learned all that much about Rwanda and certainly there is more to explore, but we're moving on; North to Uganda where the people are friendly, the pace is slow, and the mountain gorillas roam.  Yup, that's right - we're going to track some mountain gorillas!

Rwanda - en Francias...ish

I have travelling ADD.
I was totally content in Kampala, but once we hit the road I’ve been ready to leave each place we’ve been to within 24 hours of arriving. [Note: Kenn is reading over my shoulder and has instructed me to change this number to 3… he might be right.] I’m not sure why – Kenn has described it as having ADD. I think I’m just on the hunt for something… but I don’t know what? The tourist-y activities that surrounded us in SW Uganda were okay, but I wanted to explore without the required $10 guide. So we’ve come to Rwanda to explore a new culture, new city, new language, new food, new people – all things new. And it’s been a really interesting contrast to Uganda, that’s for sure. I’m tempted to say that it’s not like Africa… but then Kigali is right smack in the middle of Africa, so that would be nonsense. Really, it would be more correct to say that it’s an economnically thriving Africa, a side that you don’t see in many countries. The roads are smooth, the motos only take one passenger and you BOTH wear helmets, there are crosswalks and cars actually stop to let you through, the food is delicious, the people are friendly but not in an overwhelming ‘HEY MZUNGU!’ kind of way. I’ve also seen more white people in the past 2 days than I had in the previous 6 weeks combined, and the prices here reflect that. “Ah, cést plus l’argent” is a common cry - regardless of whether or not it actually makes sense, the frugal Dutchie/poor student within me feels better for having said it.
But it’s beautiful, and it’s new.
Today I had the urge to move on again, but on Kenn’s (wise) insistance, we’re going to stay and explore things more fully here. We took a solid couple of days to travel here… we like to call it the scenic route… so it only follows that we must spend a solid couple of days actually being here.

The biggest adventure has been getting along with a new language. Turns out that I don’t remember my grade 10 French as well as I thought… but Kenn describes this better than I can:

“We're looking for accomodation at "St. Paul's". I'm pretty sure St. Paul's is a church. I ask a man "Ou est St. Paul's?" He becons for us to follow him. I want to confirm that St. Paul's is a church but realise I don't know the word for church after I've started the question .... "Qui es St. Paul's ... pour le Jesus?" Blank stare.

I camp - Je tente.
We camp - Nous tentons.

Shannon speaks better french than me, but she's too busy laughing at me or being embarrassed by me to ever use it.”

He’s right, I really am too busy laughing at him or being embarassed by him to try it myself.

So – Kigali hasn’t been what I’d expected (actually, a lot of this week hasn’t been what I’d expected), but the adventure continues! Or, rather, l’adventure continuez.
Is that right?! Probably not.
Crap. (Crapé?!)

Bumpy roads and spitting cobras - let the touring begin.

Kenn and I are now on the road. We decided that we would head to the Southwest of Uganda – a land packed with rolling hills, crater lakes, lowland rainforest, highland valleys, and sky-piercing mountain ranges. It is beautiful!

After our first days spent touring caves and lakes around Fort Portal (see Kenn’s post on this here), we decided that this would be a great opportunity to head into the Semliki Valley – a lowland rainforest that is continuous with the Congolese Uturi forest, the largest in Africa. There were two things I didn’t anticipate about this trip: 1) how incredibly beautiful the drive would be; 2) how absolutely terrifying the drive would be.

Myth: A matatu that drives full speed around blind corners on the edge of a 100 metre dropoff with only it’s blaring horn to protect you from any oncoming vehicles is really, really scary.

Fact: A matatu that drives full speed around blind corners on the edge of a 100 metre dropoff without blaring it’s horn to protect you from any oncoming vehicles is really, REALLY scary.

We took the 2 hour journey in a jam-packed rickety matatu with babies on our laps, flying around blind corners with enormous dropoffs only inches away (the tires definitely left the gravel a few times), all for the sake of getting to this rainforest.
We got to the rainforset – went for a walk – saw some monkeys and big trees – but otherwise it was truthfully a little bit disappointing. The highlight was probably seeing a 2.5 metre spitting cobra. We heared it before we saw it; it was hustling down a tree trunk trying to get out of sight as we approached and made a ruckus as it hit the ground.

After seeing the cobra, we walked on and soon looped back. As we were crossing the same point that the cobra was first seen, there was a loud rustling in the trees overhead. I turned to our guide, Moses, and asked, “What kind of monkeys are up there?” Moses looked at me, fear in his eyes, and responded with a thick accent, “spitting cobra.” The look on my face must have been quite rewarding because he burst into laughter and continued to laugh at his joke for a solid 5 minutes afterwards. I jumped at every rustling in the bush for a solid 45 minutes afterwards. Jokes about deadly snakes - not funny!

I'm now sitting in a cafe in Rwanda drinking the nicest coffee I've had in 2 months. We just arrived in Kigali and I'm really looking forward to exploring (and testing out my grade 10 French) - Internet seems to be more common around here, so I'll be sure to update a bit more often!

xoxo

Saying goodbye

7:30am

I woke with equal feelings of excitement and sadness. I’m excited for what tomorrow brings, and I’m glad that I have this to offset the dread of saying goodbye and of wondering what will come of these kids that I’ve come to adore so much.
I’m sitting outside on the porch, eating my long-awaited celebratory bacon and eggs while Lisa Hannigan sings softly (and appropriately) melancholy in my ear. It’s raining outside. This also seems appropriate.

12:30pm

I’ve just said goodbye to Tatiana. This will be my hardest goodbye. I’ve done everything I can to provide the OT here with a comprehensive and appropriate treatment plan for her – but I have very little faith that it will be followed through on. She’s such a bright girl and has been completely underestimated until now.
We played on the slide together most of the morning. We’ve somehow developed this game of cat-and-mouse where she’ll aproach the slide and wait for me to chase her up into it, giggling maniacally the whole time. In this past week, whenever she sees me, she’ll run to the slide and start giggling just in anticipation of this. I’m going to miss her. Samson and David weren’t here today (related to the tombs being burned down – today was the end of the official week of mourning for the Bagandans) – I’m actually kind of greatful that my last goodbye with them was a lighthearted one.

4:30pm

Goodbyes with everyone else were fine – mostly because I’ve realized that I’ll have to pass back through Kampala on my way to the airport in 2 weeks, so it’s just ‘goodbye for now’instead of goodbye forever.
Jen & I sat on the porch sharing our last Nile Special (well, her last Nile special… I’m sure Kenn and I will indulge a time or two). We sat there looking out at the view and reminisced about the past 6 weeks. Such a short time but I feel like we learned so much. We talked about our highs and lows – about what we’re most looking forward to about going home – about how we’d stay here in a second if given the chance. It was nice, but had an air of finality that was definiteiy present.

7:30pm

Returned from my last trip to Sanyu. Here I’ve trained another volunteer how to stretch Francis, how to support him in sitting (and the overwhelming benefits of getting him into sitting as often as possible), and taught her more about CP. She’s the only other volunteer who isn’t intimidated by him, and she’s promised that she’ll look after him for me. I also got some things to set up in his crib – as per Ross’s fantastic suggestion – in order to give him some stimulatino in that crib that he’s stuck in most of the day. When I put him back into his crib after the toys were set up, he looked around and held his head in midline (albiet briefly) – it was the first time I’d ever seen him do that. He was actively looking around, and it was fantastic. An unexpected side effect was that the other kids came by his crib to play with these toys. This means one of two things: 1) the toys will be ripped off in a matter of days, and/or 2) maybe this will also provide Francis with a bit of social contact, too!
It breaks my heart to leave him, but I feel strongly that I’ve done what I can for him, and I have high hopes that volunteers will continue to make sure he’s looked after.

12:30am

Went to chicken ghetto for our last dinner. It was delicious, as always. Following this, we went to the Emin Pasha hotel – a very swanky place that doesn’t really feel like Kampala, it feels like another (higher class) world, but it was redeemed by the music. Oh the music! Sax, trumper, 3 kinds of drums, guitars, and 4 of the most enthusiastic singers I’ve seen in a long time. It was so great!
Now, off to bed – my first night camping – and tomorrow morning Kenn and I take off for the West.

A numbers update

I was just reading through a past post (FYI) that listed a few numbers.  It's funny how things have changed...

Some current numbers, FYI:

5 - number of times we've run out of water
30 - number of nights we've lost electricity
.25 - number of dollers for two giant avocadoes
.50 - number of dollers for a juicy, delicious pineapple
2 - number of pieces of jewlery I've recieved from the one I affectionatly refer to as my 'Ugandan stalker.'
countless - number of near collisions (this includes hitting a boda, falling off a boda, having my foot tapped by a passing car while on a boda, and being close enough to a traffic cop that she brushed my arm - while on a boda... obviously!)
countless - number of potholes in the roads here
17 - number of spiders I've seen (though they're all nice and small)

2 - number of big, gross cockroaches in my room on any given night
lots - number of beautiful sunsets watched from the porch of our guesthouse
2 - number of days of work remaining
2 - number of weeks left to travel around some more of this gorgeous country.

White water rafting

Jinja has become the 'adrenaline capital' of East Africa.  When Jen & I last went, we went horseback riding - at a trot, no less.  Fun, but worthy of the adrenaline capital?  Nope.
So, this past weekend I went to meet up with Kenn who has been staying here for the past week while he has been learning to kayak the white water.  After much prompting from Kenn and every other person I'd met here, I decided to take the leap and try white water rafting.  The rapids on the Nile are rumoured to be among the best in the world (where best = biggest and most frightening), and they are currently in the process of constructing a new hydroelectric damn which will supply the regoin with much-needed power, but will be the death of these famed rapids.  So, while in Rome... you know.

The morning started off wet.  Very, very wet.  I had unsuspectingly placed Kenn's tent on the only flat place around - which turned out to be in a valley, and we woke in the middle of the night to find that the tent had flooded and we were sleeping on what felt like a waterbed.
When day broke, we got up, dried off, went for a tasty breakfast (with GOOD coffee!), and took off for Speke camp where our rafting adventure would begin.  We were told that there would be 7 others joining us from Kampala - this was quite a relief for me, because more people = more power = more control over where the boat goes = less chance that we'll end up in a grade 6 rapid and die.
Well, wouldn't you know it, those 7 people showed up and they were all scrawny Asian men - straight from China.  ONE spoke English and not one of them had held a paddle before.  Kenn and I couldn't do anything but shake our heads and laugh as they completed the stereotype, posing with the peace sign for every picture.
Let the adventure begin.
We got in the water and our guide, Enoch, went through the basics.  He would command "FORWARD" and at least 2 of them would paddle backwards.  He would command "PADDLE HARD" and at least 4 of them would hit the deck.  He explained that the most likely way to get hurt is from someone else's paddle - so he taught us how to hold it properly when going through the rapids.  After this, we did a practice fall.  As the boat fell, the dude behind me bashed me in the face with his paddle - he clearly didn't understand a word Enoch had said while explaining the safety procedures.
I was ready to back out.  Scared of rapids to begin with, the idea of facing this raging water with a boat full of these guys was enough to make me shake in my boots.  But, Kenn convinced me that it would be okay, and if nothing else we'd have a good story to tell.
It's true.  Good story.  My arms are STILL sore since Kenn and I were the only ones paddling the whole day - but I didn't get bashed in the face again.  I also learned something new about myself: I have a LOT of trouble biting my tongue.  There were definitely a few, "You're paddling like a WOMAN" and "BE STRONG" yelled at my dark-haired boat-mates.... hopefully they didn't understand!

All in all it was a fantastic day.  I only ended up in the water 3 times: once when the boat flipped over a small waterfall (eeek!), once when I got knocked out of the boat - legs in the air - and perforated my left eardrum (on meds, doc says it'll be fine in no time), and once when they let us out to swim in the current for about half an hour.  It was such a great feeling to be swept up in the current like that - dragged along with no effort - particularly after paddling like crazy in the mid-day sun.

I'm glad I got over my fear of the white water, even if it has created a new fear: the fear of being in a boat of Chinese men!

Riots in Kampala

Yesterday there were riots in the city.  They were close enough that I could hear the yelling and chanting of the throbbing mass of people perfectly.  We could see people walking the streets through the few rows of houses that separated us, up on Mengo hill, from them, traveling along the main road just below us.

On Tuesday, two students were killed in a protest at Makarere University.  That same night the Kasubi tombs were burned down.  These are probably one of the most important cultural sites in Uganda, and Kampala certainly.  The tombs mark the resting place of a number of Bugandan kings.  Bear with me here, you’ll need a little context to understand why this is important.

Uganda has many different tribes.  The Bugandan tribe is one of them.  The Bugandans are also the tribe that the British selected as their ‘favourites’ when they colonized Uganda many years ago.  As such, the Bugandan tribe has become one of the most powerful in the country.  The monarchy is still a very relevant part of day-to-day life in Uganda, and is ruled by a Bugandan king.  The president, Museveni, is not Bugandan and it is a widely held belief that the government as a whole is against the Bugandan people.

So, the tombs being burned down is significant because many of the Bugandan people here are saying that the government has done this.  And it’s been suggested that this was done in response to the protests at the university.  These protests were in relation to the University’s guild elections, which are said to be very closely tied to the national political sphere.  Unfortunately, I don’t have any more details about the university protests, the guild elections or their connections to the national government.  It’s hard to get reliable news here.

This set of events is what has led to the riots.  Yesterday the mass of people traveled from the site of the tombs, to the kakaba’s (king’s) residence, and back.  This is why twice yesterday we had heard them so very close to us.  It was surreal.  I’ve never been in a country where there has been an uprising.  Interestingly enough I was living in Korea at the time that the Nomdemun gates were burned down - one of Korea’s last remaining authentic cultural sites (most of theirs were burned down when the Japanese invaded).  The country was aghast, but there was no uprising.  

It makes it even more surreal that I’m here, so close to it, and yet we’re so effectively segregated in the hospital compound that it would be easy enough to go inside, turn on a movie really loudly, and forget that it was happening (probably much to mumsie & dadsie’s relief).

It’s still difficult to get a straight story on what’s going on.  The national news company shut down yesterday when the riots started, and so our only news came through local friends here.  We were told that as long as we stayed within the hospital grounds, we’d be safe.  And we were.  Nothing to worry about.

I am left wondering what the city and it’s people will be like today.  The Bugandan king addressed his people today and told them that they must be calm.  Because of this, Geoffrey, one of the men I work with at the ESC, said that he feels today will be better.  But now I sit here on the front porch of our house, way way up on Mengo hill, and I swear that I can hear a mass of people off to the West.  I’m not sure if this is me straining to hear something, anything, that will give me some information as to what’s happening in the rest of the city?  It could be that I’m hearing the normal sounds of the city, but that they’re sounds that I never picked up on before because I just wasn’t listening to them.  It feels different, though; like there’s suspense hanging in the air.  But maybe this is just what I’m choosing to pick up on.  Truthfully, there’s a little part of me that craves the instability and the adventure of it.  But I think that this is the same naive part of me that doesn’t really understand what riots mean.  Yesterday there were 3 people killed and 25 injured according to CNN’s report.  People here, when asked, just say that it was really bad.  

I guess it just goes to show how quickly things can change.  But don’t worry - I’ll keep both ears to the ground and won’t leave the safety of the hospital grounds until everyone is very sure that it’ll be fine.  Many of our local friends are looking out for us too.  A few stopped by yesterday just to make sure that everyone made it home okay (Lionel travelled home from the other side of the city when he heard gunshots), and to tell us again and again that we shouldn’t leave the hospital. So, here I sit - craving a chapati but settling for scrambled eggs because I’m being a good girl and not leaving the gates - even if there is a little part of me that wants to.

I’ll update if anything changes - but we’ve heard no news today, and this is definitely a ‘no news is good news’ situation.  So, if you hear no news from me about this again, assume it’s a good thing! (Luckily, we’ve got access to internet in the pharmacy’s lab - so I can keep y’all up to date even while I’m cooped up in here).

The politics...

I’m not sure how much detail I should go into on this topic.  However, I wouldn’t be doing this trip justice to tell you all the happy stuff and none of the things that happen slightly behind (or directly in front of) the scenes.  There have been many things that have caused really intense frustration, but it’s often those things that cause you to grow the most in an experience like this one.

Let me preface this by saying that there is no doubt in my mind that the people I refer to here have only the best interests of the kids they serve at heart.  However, there is quite the contrast between what we think would best serve those kids, and what they think would best serve them.

I’ve referred to the “OT culture shock” before - the contrast between the OT that I know and the OT that’s practiced here.  I think that it would probably be more appropriate to call it “disability culture shock” as the contrasts go way, way beyond just the OT world.

Example: At home, Steph is super involved in the special olympics.  During one of her swim meets, I bought a special olympics shirt that sports their motto on the back of it: “Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”

The special olympics is also present in Uganda.  Their motto?  “Give us a chance.”

The following situation I think depicts some of our struggles here really well.  About two weeks in, Jen and I were sitting in chapel (a Christian program, therefore mandatory daily chapel, complete with one of the students pounding out the songs’ rhythms on an African drum).  During this time there is always a mini-lesson where one of the teachers will talk for a few minutes about something like respecting your friends or not walking on the gardens.  Today one of the teachers decided that she would pull her students up in front of the school one-by-one and ridicule them in front of everyone for things they have done badly.  She pointed out each of the autistic children in the school and told the children that the reason they had outbursts (during the drum-infused worship time) was because they had satan in the hearts.  She told the students that god doesn’t love these children and that we have to pray for them.

Hard to swallow.  Very, very hard to swallow.

I have been lucky enough to share our guesthouse with Lionel and Donna, a couple from Victoria.  They are both counsellors and Lionel has been volunteering for two months per year at the school for the past 4 years.  He has lots of experience with the kids and the teachers and, luckily, a lot more insight into the goings on.

Apparently public ridicule is a normal part of the educational system here.  Kids who go to public school will attend their classes along with 119 of their classmates - all in one room.  Public ridicule and beatings are used in order to keep this massive number of kids in line.  This makes it more understandable (though not excusable) as to why the teachers at Mengo school use public ridicule.  However the autism bit is related to a total lack of understanding about autistm.  We have explored the possibility of doing a workshop for the teachers and developing materials for families explaining what autism is and why these children do what they do.  Turns out, both of these have already been done.  It is instead the religious underpinnings that drive these beliefs.  They honestly believe that families who have children like this are cursed.  (They clearly have never met Steph nor do they understand the complete blessing she has been in our family). This makes me absolutely furious.  And I hate that these kids live with a stigma that they have done nothing to deserve.  The kids and their families, actually.

Here’s the dilemma:

The idea of missionaries - of someone coming into another culture and pushing their beliefs on someone - makes me cringe a bit.  I get it, I get that they’re trying to do good and share the hope and peace that they have found, but I don’t agree with the idea that these beliefs should be forced on others (eeek might be getting myself into some deep water here... to those who this makes angry we can hash it out in person some time, k?)  But hear me out.  I think that what missionaries desire to do has a really direct parallel to what my desire would be in the situation described above.  I feel that I have information that is more credible than the information that these teachers have (i.e. what contributes to autism, why the kids jump around and ‘stim out’ in chapel, methods to control their behaviours that don’t involve hitting of any kind), but the people here have their beliefs as to what is going on.  How hard do you try to get someone to share your beliefs?  What ends do you have to go to?  Offending people?  Pushing your beliefs on someone else, knowing full well that the fact that it’s been researched well and published in credible peer-reviewed journals will mean absolutely nothing to them.  I have honestly considered teaching them the song “Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world...” but decided that maybe that would be passive aggressive.  Just maybe.

But I guess the bottom line is that there really isn’t an easy answer.  There are two extremes: push my beliefs firmly and with a vengeance, or ignore the whole thing entirely and chalk it up to a cultural difference.  As with any case of extremes, neither is a good option.  And I am left with very little guidance here as to what would best serve these kids while still respecting the fact that the school has invited us in with open arms (and also taking into account that if I offend people, they definitely will not listen to what I have to say - regardless of how valid it is).  

---

On a bright (and totally unrelated) note: I was at Sanyu today, and while feeding some of the really little babies I got to talking to the woman who was holding little baby Mary (the one who stole my heart the first day I was there), and telling her how beautiful I think Mary is.  She kept saying ‘oh thank you thank you” and I didn’t really get it at first.  She went on to explain that she and her husband had been fighting to adopt Mary since about November and just found out that they now have her!  In a few weeks they’ll be able to take her home with them.  She told me how when they first say Mary she weighed only 500 grams, and everyone told them that they were crazy to try and adopt ‘this one’ because no one believed that she would make it.  But she did, and she really is beautiful.  They’re going to rename her Abigail to mark the start of her new life with them.  I can’t tell you how happy I am to know that she’s going to a loving home - and soon! 

We're going on a lion hunt...

Jen & I have just gotten back from Murchison Falls - a national park about 5 hours West of Kampala.  And it was another in a series of FANTASTIC weekends!

We arrived at our campground in 45 degree heat. Gross.  But then quickly settled in with an ice cold bevvy and got to meeting some people.  The campground was full of awesome folks from all over the world (this is proving to be one of my favourite things about being here - everyone, locals and expats, are so friendly and so ready to meet people and have fun!).  We sat around and soon met Matilda and her three babies, the resident warthogs.  They usually came around when dinner was out (pictured here!)

Then on day 2 we set off on SAFARI!!  Dream come true!  I love wildlife - and big, rare wildlife is much much more fun!

So, here's how the day went:

We set off for the day at 6:30 am - before the sun was up - because the animals are most active in the very early morning, before then sun gets too hot!  It sucked getting up that early (especially after a late night!) but the sunrise was beautiful...

George-the-ranger joined us in our van and proceeded to give us the lowdown on what we could expect to see.  He said that Murchison has most of Africa's big game, but that lions are very rare to see and that giraffes are also hard to find in the park.  I had recently read a book where giraffes were profiled so beautifully as being the most elegant animals - so I was disappointed to hear that I might not have the chance to see these long-lashed beauties.
But, we drove down the road, and the first thing we came across was a big ol' group of... giraffes!!!  They were so much fun to watch - and they really are an elegant animal!  Our friend Mark decided to see how close he could get to them without them running away, and even as it fleed in fear from that frightening blonde creature coming at it, the giraffe was elegant.

We continued on down the road and came along a family of baboons blocking our path.  Inquisitive little guys... but not too bright.  Took them a little while before they realized they should get out of the way!

We kept touring for a while without seeing much, when George called out a huge 'STOP!'.  We couldn't see anything around us, and so we couldn't quite understand the command.  He promptly hopped out of the car - his old body surprisingly nimble - and sauntered to the front.  He called the rest of us out and point out to us the fresh lion print in the dirt.  SWEET!  The hunt was on - we were going to find us a lion!  And wouldn't you know it, about 15 minutes later, we did!  There was a big female lazing about in the little shade that was around, and she let us get about 15 feet away from her before she lumbered away slowly, surprisingly undesturbed by our presence.

At this point, Jen & I decided that it would be much more fun to ride on TOP of the car rather than inside.  So we hopped up onto the luggage rack for the remainder of the ride.  It was definitely a much better view.  

We soon came across a group of 5 elephants hanging out right at the side of the road.  We went up beside them and watched them for a long time - snapping many, many pictures all the while.  The little guy got to playing with a stick, and I honestly think he was trying to show off!

We turned around to head back the direction we had come, but in the process got pretty close to the elephants.  The big one, who I assume was the mom, turned around, eyed our approaching van, and then started giving warning signals and rushing towards us (with Jen and I ON TOP of the van)!  I started yelping, I'm sure of it, but our driver backed away in time - phew.  Being attacked by an elephant is not how I plan to go!

We had a full morning of game viewing, and thoroughly enjoyed all of it!  Then for the afternoon we took off on a boat ride to find us some hippos and crocs.  And MAN did we find us some hippos and crocs!  The hippos were everywhere.  Huge creatures - and much uglier than I had anticipated.  My favourite sighting was when we got too close (seems to be a theme here) and the head bull swam out a bit towards us, stood up, and started ...ahh... doing a number 2 while his tail wagged, throwing the poo all over the place!  Apparently this is how they show that it's their territory.  Gross.

We ended the ride relaxing on the roof of the boat (This time with no threat of elephant attacks though!), and enjoyed our view of the Nile while sipping on a semi-cold Nile beer.  How quaint! :P

Only one weekend left in Kampala.  Tear.  I'll be sad to leave this place, for sure.  But it also marks the beginning of travels with Kenn - which, at this point, we think will take us to Rwanda, possibly Western Tanzania, and likely back into Uganda.

Uganda really was quite a fluke for me - it was just the first international placement opportunity that worked out.  I wanted to come to Africa, but didn't really care where in Africa I went.  As it turns out, I think that the fates served me well, because this country truely is one of the gems of the continent.  I honestly do plan to return!

Ssese Islands

First off - sorry for the delay!  Internet access has been a bit scarce lately, and we seem to have become very, very busy over the last couple of weeks!  I do have a few posts ready to throw at you though - so forgive me for doing it all at once! 

So amongst all the working and volunteering stuff, there really has been a whole bunch of fun touristy (and otherwise) stuff thrown into the mix too!

Last weekend Jen & I took off to Jinja - the birthplace of the Nile (or so the Ugandans say).  We got a hotel room purely for the view, and had a balcony that overlooked the Nile and the setting sun.  Unfortunately the same hotel also had bats in the lobby and ants crawling all over one of the beds in our room.  Lesson learned - never get a hotel room purely for the view!  But the rest of Jinja was great.  It’s a much quieter town than Kampala and it was nice to be able to cross the street without fearing for your life!  

On Sunday we went on a horseback safari (really a glorified horseback ride) along the banks of the Nile and through neighbouring villages.  It was a great way to spend a morning, though really only reinforced for me the fact that I’m not the best on the back of a horse.  Andrea would have been proud of my attempts at trotting - I tried to post, but failed miserably.  And cantering... well, I won’t get into the cantering.  Suffice to say that I’m not meant to ride horses!  Beautiful views though, and I always love going through villages and seeing what life is like there.  I’m such a sucker for kids - kids everywhere really, but in remote places especially.  I love how excited they are and how they’ll chase you through the village - it’s all really quite thrilling!  But, being on the back of a horse and all, it was hard to really engage.  A nice tour none the less!

Then this past weekend, our original plan was to go to Mount Elgon and Sipi Falls... this was of course until there were massive landslides in the area.  So instead we decided that we deserved a little weekend in the sun - so we headed out to the Ssese Islands, a group of islands, complete with white sand, in the midst of Lake Victoria.  It was such a great weekend!  We met a group of other mzungus (white people) from all over the world who had come to Uganda for all kinds of different reasons - some social work, some teaching, some engineering, some renewable energy - all really interesting though.  We all hit it off right away and spent the rest of the weekend lounging around on the beach, playing a ton of frisbee, hanging out around bonfires.  

On our only full day we decided that the 9 of us would charter a fishing boat to take us out and about amongst the islands for the day.  So off we went, 9 white people and the boat’s owner, in a group of islands that doesn’t see an awful lot of tourism (especially considering how great the islands were!).  We found an isolated island that we called home for the afternoon and designated “Mzungu island” - it was great to spend the day touring around, swimming, eating fresh pineapple and drinking nice cold beers.  Definitely my kind of weekend!

This weekend?

SAFARI!

Hippos, here I come! :)

The tortoise and the... trumpet?

Yesterday was such a cool day that I needed to throw up a quick post to tell you about it.

Down in the ESC the day started more or less like any other.  Then an American woman dropped by as she was taking her tortoise out for a walk.  Odd?  She came in and started chatting, and Samson and I crouched down to check the tortoise out.  It was all hidden in it’s shell for the first few minutes.  Then it’s head emerged, and Samson FLIPPED!  I’m not sure what he thought was happening - maybe he thought it was a rock that suddenly sprouted a head and legs?  Maybe he’s never seen a tortoise before?  Either way, Samson was not impressed!  So I wasn’t sure what to expect when Tatiana and David wandered over - but they loved it.  David kept trying to hold it, and Tatiana wandered around, crouched down with her thumb in her mouth, following the tortoise wherever it went for the better part of 20 minutes.  Tatiana - the girl who has trouble focusing on anything for more than 5 minutes.  It was really neat to watch!  One of those things that you would never anticipate happening (how often does someone wander into your workplace with a tortoise?) but was such a cool addition to the day.

Then, that evening, I went with my friend Robert to the Miracle Centre - the house where the Bakouli Boys live and practice.  The Bakouli Boys I mentioned briefly a while back - but just to refresh your memory, it’s a group run by a man named Abey.  He takes kids off the street, teaches them to play instruments, and they as a group perform all over the country.  I talked with Abey for a while last night, and it was so awesome to see the passion that he has for these boys.  He says that he essentially runs an orphanage but he refuses to call it that because he wants these boys to grow up as part of a family, and to empower them with skills that will allow them to earn what they need to pay for their education (Primary & Secondary school both cost money here - a big reason that many of the children aren’t educated).  He wants to teach them that they have value, and that they don’t need to be dependent on other people, or on handouts.

After chatting with Abey, I went and sat on the stoop with Robert while we watched the boys practice.  It was a circle of kids all with brass instruments playing these awesome tunes, all with the backdrop of a setting sun and a marsh full of birds in the background.  It was one of those moments that I tried to really set in my mind - one of those moments where I just feel so blessed to be able to be there and share it with these kids.

Following this, Robert & I went back to his family’s house.  His mom made me African tea and casava, and we sat around with the whole family in this itty bitty little living room while Dolly Parton & Kenny Rogers played in the background (I had heard that Ugandans love these two, but didn’t believe it until last night), and Robert tried to teach me to play the trumpet while everyone cheered me on... and laughed.  

SO COOL.

                                

Now off to the islands!!  Talk soon :)

xoxo

When it rains...

(First off, we’re safe and sound in Kampala - a long way from the landslides in the East.  Though that was where we had intended to go this weekend.... we’ve since changed our plans)

It’s March, and rainy season isn’t supposed to start until April - a shame for the touring Kenn & I will be doing at the beginning of April, but I didn’t think that it would be an issue for the rest of the trip.  Turns out I’m wrong.  Lucky us, rainy season has come early this year.

In Africa when it rains, it pours!  Storms like the storms in Ontario that I miss so much while in B.C. - however here they happen almost every other day.  Usually it’s a gross, rainy morning and then there’s some afternoon sun, but it’s amazing the effect that a few hours of rain has here!

First off, half the roads here aren’t paved.  Instead they’re dirt roads - red, red dirt.  And, unexpectedly, dirt that is very slippery!  Much different than the mud in Ontario or B.C.  It sticks to your shoes and coats them with a layer that just gets thicker and thicker until you kick it off.  Turns out that it also sticks to tires.  However, the fact that it sticks to tires  (making the treads on tires totally useless) doesn’t stop people from driving down these roads.  A couple weeks ago, Jen & I were on a matatu (taxi-bus) one night after it had rained the whole day.  This was the second scariest drive in Uganda to date.  (the scariest drive happened last night, and I won’t even try to describe it because without a video it wouldn’t do it justice).  Anyway, back to the mud.  So here we were driving down a back road, in the dark, and Bam! We hit a boda-boda (motorcycle) - the dude was okay, luckily.  We continue driving, engine revving as the tires spin, and the tail of the matatu swinging all over the place.  We ended up getting stuck - really, really stuck.  They ushered us all out and into another matatu that had to reverse out of this muddy mess - this driver thought he’d be a hero and take us the wrong way down a one-way mud road.  Not a good idea.  We almost hit people 3 times, almost ran into a brick wall at least twice.  It was awful!

We thought we’d learned our lesson, but this past weekend while in Jinja, Jen & I took a boda-boda out of town to get to a ranch.  Turns out that about 1 km of this journey was down a dirt road, during a rain storm.  Disaster.  We ended up falling off the boda because it spun out underneath us.  Some bruises, but otherwise all was fine.

So, rainy season here means a few things:

Rain = sore tailbones.  The potholes become full of water, so no one can judge their depth.  This doesn’t mean that people slow down and take it easy on the roads... if anything they seem to go faster.

Rain = flooding on the streets.  A good chunk of the main roads in Kampala get shut down on a regular basis because they're totally flooded and there's not really any drainage system here.

Rain = lots and lots of noise on the tin roof that covers the OT department.  Turns out that whoever decided to use tin as a roofing material didn't think about the autistic kids who are in there all day!  Coming here I wouldn't have anticipated this, but these rainy days mean that we often have our hands full!

On the bright side, rain = luscious green landscapes.  

This weekend we’re hoping to get further out of town so we can appreciate all the scenery, even if we get wet while we do it!  So we're off to the Ssesse islands down in Lake Victoria.  Updates to follow (about that and last weekend's trip to Jinja - the birthplace of the Nile!)

(above is Jen after the boda fall - note the red mud all over her pants.  I still haven't gotten the mud out of my jeans... the only pair of long pants I brought to Uganda... crap).

Introducing...

I’ve been gently informed that perhaps the last few entries were slight... downers! (eeeek!)  And I don’t want to give you the wrong impression - while things here have definitely caused me to reconsider some things, and played on my emotions a bit, my experience in Uganda has been just amazing so far!

So, I thought that maybe I should introduce you to the kids that I spend most of my time with - the ones that make my mornings so much fun (and the ones that do a great job of keeping me on my toes!)

Gideon

Gideon was the first kid that I connected with in the OT department.  How can you resist that big old smile?  He’s now the boy that I work with 1:1 for two hours every day.  I have SO enjoyed getting to know him.  He always has a huge grin on his face, and is so quick to help with anything.  I think one of my favourite things about him is how quick he is to laugh.  He’s non-verbal, but this boy definitely has a sense of humour! And also a wonderfully helpful spirit - he’s quick to give a hand with anything (today one of the kids knocked me right off my feet, so my pants had a nice layer of red dirt all over them.  Samson hopped up and ran over to help clean me off - resulting in a nice swat to the butt!).

Julia

Julia's a little girl who Jen & I are both working with.  She’s a super playful little girl who loves to laugh and horse around.  She’s also the one who will run up to me at the beginning of the day with a big hug - a nice way to start the morning.  She has a reputation for being stubborn and rambunctious, but we’re discovering that it’s likely because she’s been totally underestimated and is much brighter than people have made her out to be.  She loves a challenge just as much as she loves goofing around on the slide.

Josiah

Josiah is Jen’s 1:1 kid.  He’s a stoic young guy, but when he smiles it lights up a room.  He is extremely bright and has an incredible knack for puzzles.  He & Jen have also developed a great connection over the last three weeks.

There are more gems that we work with in the day school, but I’ll save that for another day! 

xoxox

Francis

Our second day at Sanyu we got talking to one of the volunteers and mentioned that we’re OT students.  His face lit up, and he asked whether or not we’ve met Francis.  We had not met Francis - but soon learned that he is a 4 year old boy with cerebral palsy (CP) who spends his days lying in his crib as he generally isn’t taken outside with the other kids.  The mamas don’t have time to spend with him, and most of the other volunteers are openly intimidated by someone so physically disabled.

We went to him, and scooped him out of his bed which was soaked in sweat.  He is low functioning and seems to have no control over any of his movements.  Francis doesn’t speak, and doesn’t make much eye contact either.  He can’t support himself in sitting and so spends the vast majority of his day lying down in his crib.

I went to see him on my own yesterday, and when I got there found him lying in a pool of his vomit.  I took a few deep breaths to try and choke down tears.  It sounds like a cop out, but seeing him like that is almost too hard.  

Here, as with most other cultures, orphans and the disabled are the lowest of the low.  To be orphaned and disabled is, well, not good.  My heart breaks for this little guy.  I find it hard to think about him and what his future will be like without getting really emotional.  

Again it’s the contrast between what COULD be if he were to get the attention that he needs, and what the reality will more likely be based on the fact that there is no consistency in his caregivers, and that with 49 other kids running around no one has the time that is required to give Francis the leg-up that he needs.  I want so badly to help him, Jen & I will do what we can to help him, but 6 weeks (now, closer to 4) is such a short amount of time.  

The good news is: after spending some time with him, getting him out in the fresh air, stretching his arms and legs for a while, he looks so much more awake and alert... almost like a different kid.  Yesterday a volunteer came up to me and said that after working there for 4 weeks, that was the first time she had seem him smile.  

------

OT’s in the crowd: Any suggestions would be so very welcome!  What would you do with a little guy with advanced CP (level 5 on the GMFCS), knowing that he likely won’t get any support outside of the hour-ish you spend with him?  He has special seating that they don’t use - anything that requires extra time just isn’t realistic.  A past volunteer who was also really taken by Francis has paid for him to go swimming - but no one has time to take him.  

Beyond spending time with him and making sure to give him a good stretch when I see him, I’m at a bit of a loss.  No resources, no time, no support.  

Any thoughts?

Photos

At the local Monday market - lined with delicious produce 

(though this week we left our pinapple sitting too long and found that the ants had eaten a hole in it... Gross.)

The day-school at Mengo

Jen getting her eye poked out by cheeky Hannah at Sanyu

Some of the brass at the Bakouli Boys concert we went to on Sunday.  Our friend Robert is now one of the leaders of the group, which takes in boys off the streets and teaches them to play music.  The band tours to make enough money to send the boys to school.  Great organization, great music!

A view of the Kampala streets as the sun sets.

It's a busy, busy city - that's for sure.  There are perks to living in the big city, but I"m looking forward to getting out of it for a while too!  We're off to Mount Elgon and Sipi Falls this weekend - updates and pics to follow! :)

xoxoxo