Minerva Fellowship: Ddegeya Village, Uganda

Breaking Ground

Sat, 17 Mar 2012 08:18:37 -0400

(Written 03-Feb-12)

The Engeye Water Project is officially underway and its first phase, excavation, is off to a good start. Thank you to our many generous donors, whose support has enabled this project to become a reality!

The morning was spent measuring and marking out the excavation site dimensions (13’ x 16’). Kalule, Mark, and I staked out the corners and ran tightly pulled string around the perimeter. Juko, an experienced local builder who will be leading the tank’s construction team, helped to check our work and square the corners.

Once the boundaries were set, the digging commenced with no delay. The backside of the pick axes sank into the top layer of trodden dirt and opened up the earth. Soon there were spades diving into dark red soil and shovelfuls of dirt flying in every direction through the morning air.

Below the first few inches, the soil was soft and easily penetrated. The diggers were able to make impressive progress, descending nearly a full meter on the inaugural day. Despite their noteworthy, initial headway, many days of strenuous labor lie ahead. The tank’s final depth aims to be approximately 17 feet.

Nonetheless, it was an exciting day for everyone. Thanks again to all the important contributors who have made this all possible.

Phase 1: Excavation

Thu, 15 Mar 2012 05:31:00 -0400

These days I have a morning alarm set for approximately 3:00AM, and there is no option of hitting a snooze button. Bang! Dong! Dank! Bonk! The sound of a pickaxe striking the bedrock nearly twenty feet below the level at which I lay asleep never fails to confuse me. It usually takes me a few minutes to comprehend that the continual banging is not part of my dream and wake up. Even then, it is pitch black outside and I struggle to distinguish between real life and dream. Eventually, I realize that I am hearing the sounds of progress being made with the current excavation, slowly but surely. Luckily, this is more bearable then our former alarm, the now-deceased rooster, and I am able to half-sleep for a few more hours before getting up and checking on the hole.

Digging has been a somewhat of an ordeal, but thankfully, it is just about finished. We initially hired one guy to contract the job and dig the entire hole. After digging about eight feet down, he hit the layer of near-solid rock. Depending on the location, this bedrock can be discovered at a depth from 5-20 feet and there is no way to knowing pre-excavation. Unfortunately, we hit bedrock much earlier than hoped and expected. He and his men chipped away for a day or two descending about a foot or so into the stubborn solid, before bailing. Since we had been paying this first guy incrementally, he took what he had earned and split.

Unfortunately, the hole sat untouched for a full week until we found a brave (and affordable) enough crew. These two guys, Gov and Mukyolo (pronounced Mucholo), are what/who really inspired me to write about this aspect of the project - let me try to explain. The inside dimensions of the finished tank are to be 10’ x 13’. The brick wall will be about 9’ thick and the cement wall around that will be about 6’. With the finish plaster on the inside and some polyethylene paper on the exterior, the entire wall should be a good 15” thick. Therefore the dimensions of the hole in which the tank sits must be 13’x16’, a surface area of 208 square feet. And its final depth is nearly 17” making the entire space more than 3500 cubic feet. The numbers may not effectively describe the volume, so just trust me when I say, “it is massive.”

The second (bottom) half of the rectangular pit, which Gov and Mukyolo have been digging has been 100% bedrock. It is not as hard as stone, but it’s damn near close and requires a hardy swing of the pickaxe to bust it up.

(to be continued…)

The Engeye Water Project

Sun, 08 Jan 2012 14:09:10 -0500

In Ddegeya Village and all of rural Uganda, there is no such thing as running water. People fetch water at local boreholes and lug jerry cans of water to their homes throughout the day in order to cook, clean, bathe, and survive. Luckily, Engeye Health Clinic (EHC) enjoys the luxury of a domestic rainwater collection system (RWCS). But unfortunately, the storage capacity of the current RWCS is not sufficient for Uganda’s biannual periods of dry season. This is how and why the idea, that has become the water project, first took root.

The first goal of the water project is to provide an endless supply of water for EHC so that its staff and residents would never need to fetch water, or pay to have water fetched, down at the borehole ever again. There are four buildings on Engeye’s compound and only one of them is currently harvesting rainwater. By placing gutters on the additional three roofs available EHC would capture nearly quadruple the amount of rainwater it currently can. And rather than purchasing more plastic cisterns to store this water, it would be more efficient to collect all the water in one place, a massive belowground tank. Having observed such a tank at a nearby NGO and discussed the design with the engineer who oversaw its construction, it seemed prudent to mimic the structure in our project. The fifty thousand-liter tank would increase water storage capacity more than six times the present capacity and thereby effectively assure that EHC never experiences a dry season again.

The second and perhaps even more significant impact the water project can make, lies in the future. Once the buildings are guttered, and thousands of liters or rainfall are captured and funneled into the belowground tank, the water will then be pumped into each building to provide running water. First, a foot pump will draw water out of the tank and up into raised cisterns that sit on top of steel frame towers. Then gravity will do the rest, providing natural pressure to run water from the cisterns, through plastic tubing, into the clinic’s buildings, and out of household faucets. With the vital resource of running water, the clinic would then have the ability to expand the services it offers. Dental care, surgery, and a maternity ward (for deliveries and emergency cesarean sections) are all medical services that (1) depend on a supply of running water and (2) have never before been available to the people of this region. Therefore, the water project has ability to both benefit EHC and the thousands (roughly 12,000 total for 2011) of patients it treats annually.

Mark and I are opening the New Year with a fundraising campaign in an effort to make this project a reality. Our goal is to raise $3500 by mid to late February so we can begin construction by March 1^st and see the project through to its finish, before our return to the states in late April. I will post updates on fundraising progress and, if all goes well, the construction process for anyone interested in following our endeavor. If you are interested in learning more about the water project or contributing to this cause, please visit https://engeye.org/aboutus/history/95-engeyewater.html.

History of the Water Project

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 15:19:00 -0500

Since the very first weeks in Ddegeya, Mark and I have been working on a water project that has been our main focus for most of our time here. I will include details of the project in a separate entry. After a few months of playing with different ideas, researching and planning, we submitted a formal proposal to the Engeye board. It was very well received and it appeared as though our big project was to become a reality.

Before beginning construction, we consulted several different professionals and sources including the Engineers Without Borders team from MIT (EWB-MIT), an American engineer who holds a PhD in water resources, a local builder-engineer, and the co-founder and director of Enegye, John Kalule. After several weeks of correspondence and collaboration, design logistics were finalized. Unfortunately, it soon thereafter came to light that the project’s funding would not be available during our remaining time in Uganda.

Despite our initial disappointment, Mark and I decided to mount a fundraising effort for 2012. The project’s goal is to bring clean running water to Engeye Health Clinic and the communities, which it serves. By providing such a resource the clinic will be have the ability to expand its services in the future and potentially offer dental care, surgery, and a maternity ward for deliveries and emergency cesarean sections – medical services currently unavailable in this area. My next entry will describe the project particulars and instructions for contributing towards the cause.

Breaking Radio Silence

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 13:53:00 -0500

It has been some time since my last post and there is much to tell.

St. Gertrude’s Primary School finished its third and final term at the end of November. The kids have a two-month break during December and January before beginning the 2012 academic year on January 30th. The end of the school year was celebrated on Speech Day, an event put on by the teachers and students for parents and the community. The kids perform traditional songs and dances for their families and lunch is served to all. For everyone, this is a big day – it’s the children’s chance to impress their proudly watching parents with what they have learned throughout the year. Despite a few organizational hiccups the day/event was an overall success. It was great to see my students smiling broadly as they skillfully beat their goatskin drums or sang and danced with energy and rhythm. I had been to several similar events previously, but this was my first not as a guest, making it particularly special.

In early December, my girlfriend, Brianne, came to visit. We spent about a week in the village before we embarked on a week-and-half long tour of East Africa. Early on the first morning of our trip, we flew from Entebbe (the city in which Uganda’s international airport is located) to Nairobi (Kenya’s capital). We spent the entire day walking around the city, doing some amateur sightseeing and grabbing some food, before boarding an overnight train from Nairobi to Mombasa. After swimming the Indian Ocean and relaxing on the beach for two days, we hopped over to Zanzibar, a famous spice island of the coast of Tanzania. The island itself was simply a tropical paradise, and the history, people and culture within it were just as captivating. With its ancient history of Omani, Arab, Indian, Swahili, Portuguese and other influences, the island was an intoxicating blend of many worlds in one. Brianne and I spent the bulk or our trip here, exploring the coral beaches, observing a local fishing village at work, and drinking and eating every street food and juice we could find. We then took a ferry to Dar es Salaam, Tanzania’s largest city, to visit an NGO that my great aunt had founded during her 25 years living there. After a quick few days in Dar, we flew back to Entebbe completing our loop and unfortunately our amazing adventure and time together. Brianne returned to NY for the holidays and I headed back to the village.

John Kalule, the co-founder and manager of Engeye, has started a lovely tradition here in Ddegeya that I was recently fortunate enough to be a part of. In mid-December, the second annual Christmas Party was held at the clinic. It was basically a massive kids party, hosted by the Engeye Scholars, but open to all the kids within walking distance – several villages in total. This year exceeded last year’s turnout with a whopping 300 children! Thanks to the days of preparation and hard work of the scholars, their families, and the Engeye staff, each child left that day having received an event bracelet (silly band), huge plate of food, a soda, pencils, and chocolate. It was a full day of cooperation, laughter, and delicious food. After all the kids had been served and were busy running around and trading pencils and silly bands, the parents and staff partook in the feast. I enjoyed an enormous plate of seasoned rice, steaming matooke, the best beef I have had to date, and chicken stew, soon thereafter entering a self-induced food coma. It was a truly awesome day.

That evening, I traveled to the airport (roughly 6 hours away) to welcome my family to Uganda. My older brother, John, had been planning on visiting me all along, but thanks to his persistence and persuasion, he ended up convincing my whole family to join. We spent the first few days in Ddegeya, then about a week enjoying Uganda’s national parks, and a couple days in Kampala. It was wonderful to introduce my parents and brother to my friends and colleagues here, after having told both parties so much about the other over the past five months. We toured St. Gertrude’s Primary School (where I teach), went shopping at the local market, played in/observed a soccer match and walked around the village greeting people and interacting with the multitude of rambunctious children. We then spent a week at both Queen Elizabeth National Park and Murchison Falls National Park. There we went on game drives, boat tours, forest hikes, chimp tracking and more. We were able to see lions, giraffes, hyenas, hippos, rhinos, antelopes, crocs, baboons, monkeys, warthogs, dozens of bird species and the rest of the savanna wildlife! It was absolutely incredible, a Christmas unlike any we had shared before. It was a gift to be together with my brothers and parents and share with them my little life here. I especially enjoyed seeing their eyes and reactions as they observed the way of life in the village, the scenic landscapes and wildlife of the West, and dusty chaos of Kampala. They brought me so many smiles and laughs and reminded me of who I am, what makes me happy, and what is important in life.

I returned to the village just before the New Year, feeling refreshed and renewed from both Brianne’s and my family’s visits, and ready to get back to work!

We Go, We Go!

Fri, 14 Oct 2011 07:39:14 -0400

It has been thirty-four long years since Uganda’s national soccer team, The Uganda Cranes, appeared at the highly esteemed pan-African tournament, The Nations Cup. Qualifying matches have been going on over the past few months and The Cranes have been displaying promising talent and momentum. With only a 1-0 victory required to earn a tournament berth, Uganda was set to host Kenya for the final qualifying round this Saturday. With Uganda’s 49th Anniversary of Independence on Sunday, the highly anticipated match held special significance in the hearts of Ugandan fans.

After reading some articles in the paper hyping up the game, I decided I had to go see it. Tickets sold out the week leading up to the match but John helped us find some tickets being scalped at twice the price. Knowing the stadium would be chaos, he advised us to go as early as 10AM even though the actual game didn’t begin until 5PM. Foolishly, we didn’t follow his advice but instead enjoyed a splendid afternoon nap at our hostel and a leisurely lunch in Kampala.

As we walked through Kampala we witnessed the excitement that had captivated the city. Nearly everyone was wearing a Uganda Cranes jersey. Every shop front and street vendor was selling them. Bright red, yellow, and white jerseys buzzed by on motorcycle taxis, skipped along the sidewalks, and filled the city. Cars and motorcycles caught in the ever-present Kampala traffic went back and forth honking their horns and shouting, “We go, we go!” – the teams motto. Plastic horns and spinning noisemakers, sold by the multitude of street vendors, shouted and screamed as if to compete with the continual honking and cheering. Faces and bodies were painted the Ugandan colors. Flags were waved proudly by super-fan pedestrians and on top of taxi vans racing to the stadium, packed full of energized supports.

Being late afternoon by the time we had eaten some questionable beef and chips, we knew we stood little chance making to Naboole Stadium in time via taxi van. So Mark and I hopped on a boda boda and weaved through traffic and the jovial parade flowing towards the pitch. Outside the stadium vendors lined the street selling horns, hats, beers, homemade booze, jerseys, paint, fake tickets and more. A mob stood before the entrance the gate that wrapped around and enclosed the stadium property. After analyzing the chaos for a moment, Mark and I managed to slip through the pushing and shoving and made it to the ticket booth. After a quick glance my ticket, the official checking tickets ripped it in two and dropped the pieces at his feet. We were in.

What we didn’t realize as we grabbed a beer at one of the stands outside the stadium, was that we had only made it past our first obstacle. As we climbed the stairs to the gate (the opening into the stadium’s interior and seating), we found a mass of people packed at the top of the stairs. The human blockade was five bodies thick and not only impassable (even with force) but prevented us from even seeing the field. We went back down the stairs and tried the next gate. The story was the same. We went gate to gate trying to find one that was not crammed full of eager spectators on their tippy-toes trying to catch a glimpse of the game. But gate after gate was chock full and impenetrable.

We decided that we should try gaining access to the VIP section, which might still have some seats available. Before the gates steps, some police officers and event officials were checking for VIP passes. I explained (lied) that our tickets had been torn up and thrown away at the ticket booth but we had paid the VIP price for them. The officers refused despite my persistent untruthfulness, but one man in a suit and dark, flashy sunglasses asked us how he could help us. I realized his tone and looked at Mark as if to ask, “Are we doing this?” We asked how much it would cost to pass and he informed us it would be twenty thousand shillings. I tried bargaining him down to ten but he knew how full every gate was and the predicament we were in. We turned our backs for a moment for a final, not-so-discrete, private meeting and agreed we would partake in Uganda’s prolific corruption. Mark handed a Ugandan police officer, in uniform, twenty thousand shillings in a shady looking handshake and the metal fence shifted to allow us through. We were in.

But once again, we were not yet actually in. The VIP gate was packed and the press entrance would not allow us in. Our first mistake had been buying the cheapest tickets available. Our second was arriving to the stadium way too late. Or third was letting our tickets be shredded and disposed of. And our forth and final mistake was paying a bribe to a police officer for access to an already full section. The opening whistle was going to blow soon and we still couldn’t get a view. After questioning how intelligent it would be to ask for our money back from a crooked cop armed with an automatic rifle, I decided I wanted a refund and it was worth a try. We approached the group of men and explained that we could not gain entrance. To our surprise the officer nodded his head to side as a gesture for me to pass behind him. Crumpled up in his hand held behind his back was our cash. I plucked the bill from his palm as I slid behind him, and we left just as sketchily as we had come.

Determined to see the main event, we decided we would just wait at one of the human barricaded gates and try to slowly but surely wiggle our way through to the stadium’s interior. We stood inside the gate, able to look up and see the sky but unable to see over those ahead us. That distinct boisterous buzz that resonates from every soccer stadium blared into our eardrums. As I looked around in awe at the craze of the whole scene, I caught the eye of man sitting by the railing ten feet above us. With a big grin, he signaled me to climb up to where he was sitting. Once again, Mark and exchanged a silent but quizzical look. Mark gave me ten figures and hoisted me up the wall. I grabbed a hold of the concrete ledge and pull my top half up. I squirmed awkwardly in the space under the railing, trying to get my legs in, and was then pulled into the stands by some half annoyed, half intrigued fans. The stands were literally jammed with bodies and there was no place to sit in sight. I could barely move, I was blocking some peoples view, there was shouting, popcorn flying, and I thought I was going to get crowd surfed back over the edge. The same man who waved me up pulled on my shirt and sat me at his feet. I was wedged, in the fetal position, between his legs and the guy in front of him. Mark climbed his way up and stumbled a few yards deeper into the crowd. He too found a miniature nook to crouch into. We were both sandwiched in between total strangers and resting our butts on the sharp concrete edges of the stadium seating. The man in front of me passed me his popcorn with a comforting smile. The game was about to begin, and this time, we were finally in.

The game itself was great. The Ugandan fans’ energy, emotional investment, and hunger for a historic win provided an atmosphere of raw excitement. The Cranes controlled possession time and dominated on offensive attempts. There were two shots that were saved literally on the goal line and few fired just inches wide. In the final twenty minutes or so, it was obvious that Crane players were giving every ounce of might they had. With several corner kicks, a bunch shots on goal, and tens of thousands of Ugandans on their feet, the Cranes seemed destined to put one in. But as time ran out, the scoreboard still read 0-0 and the players collapsed on the field in disbelief and devastation. The once roaring crowd filed out of the stadium in whispers. The match was over, and Uganda’s golden opportunity to qualify on the eve of independence had been lost.

Mark and I hung around the stadium to wait out the traffic and see how Kampala would react. Many people were crushed by the loss but others were proud of Uganda had played and happy to celebrate independence weekend. Afterwards, we even got a chance to walk out onto the field and snap a few photos. Despite the disappointing loss, it was in incredible day and athletic event. It was a real spectacle to see Uganda and its capital city so alive. I’m not sure I’ll attend anything quite like that again.

The Incinerator

Sun, 25 Sep 2011 15:17:50 -0400

Trash seems to be an issue all over the world and Uganda is no exception. The standard method of disposal here, like in many countries, is to burn a pile of trash. Outside people’s homes or scattered throughout towns and cities, piles of smoldering garbage can be found at all hours of the day. Another popular method is just dropping it wherever you are and not thinking twice about it. Neither seem to be a great option, but perhaps there are no great options.

In the village, there is much less trash than in the towns and cities. Household burn piles are mostly comprised of organic waste - banana peels, corn stocks, cleared brush, etc – since people do not consume synthetic products as much. Unfortunately, that is not the case for the clinic. Rubber gloves, plastic cups, syringes, lab materials, medicine bottles, and much more are used and thrown away on an institutional scale, on a daily basis. Needless to say, there is a lot of medical waste, and besides the bloody gauze, none of it is natural.

The incinerator was broken when we arrived, but taking it apart and fixing it, was one of the first little projects we tackled. Soot had gradually built up inside of it and had clogged the whole thing up. We unscrewed a few bolts, cleared out all the grime, and replaced the chimney – a good old fashion tune-up if you will. Since bags upon bags of trash had been accumulating, I have been chipping away at the pile, burning on random evenings, over the past two months.

The incinerator is basically a big, metal, cylindrical drum with an air vent and ash catcher on the side and a long stove pipe shooting out the top. A hatch sits atop of the big bellied barrel and opens and closes like a gluttonous gob trying to devour its grub. Once the inferno has been ignited (it is worth noting that latex gloves make the best kindling), you open the hatch, toss in a bag every ten minutes or so, let the fire roar, and watch highly toxic smoke pour into the air.

The smell and taste of the smoke is mentally and physically disturbing. Thick black smoke comes bellowing from the stove pipe and blows in whichever direction the wind dictates. If you catch a lung full its enough to make you dizzy, not to mention soak your clothes in the pungent pollution. I have made a point of avoiding the hazardous exposure by wrapping my head in my t-shirt and holding my breath every time I open the hatch.

This trash-burning machine is certainly harmful to the environment and health of those living in its close proximity. But it seems to be the best option there is. Dirty syringes and infectious waste cannot be left out in piles for kids to play in and pick through. There are no garbage removal services available and shooting it all into space isn’t a viable option yet. So what are Ugandan’s to do with all their rubbish?

To a western eye, trash scattered streets and burning garbage piles are a symbol of poverty and underdevelopment. They are unquestionably unsanitary and promote the spread of disease. But beyond sweeping up the streets, collecting our waste and sending it somewhere out of sight, have we really found any real solutions to the same problem. Are landfills really a “developed” solution? It is standard procedure in US hospitals to incinerate their medical waste too. Waste management just seems to one of those problems that human beings have yet figured out.

sunrise view from clinic (photo taken by jess hoag)

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 08:56:00 -0400

sunrise view from clinic (photo taken by jess hoag)

What I Have Been Up To (So Far)

Mon, 29 Aug 2011 08:50:00 -0400

It is a rainy Sunday afternoon and I am sitting inside listening the clamor of rain beating against the aluminum roof. It has been raining a bit in the past few days here. The rainy season ambiguously begins around this time, but it is hard to know if we are seeing its start or not, since I don’t know how much rain the season actually entails. Everyone on staff left for the weekend and so, for the first time, Mark and I have the place to our selves. The quiet and privacy has been really nice.

School begins this week. The academic calendar here is divided into three terms, with the final term beginning now and ending in early December. We will be teaching at St. Gertrude’s Primary School, which is about a twenty-minute walk down the road from the clinic. Primary school in Uganda includes P1 through P7. I will be teaching mathematics to P7 and English comprehension to P6. I will be teaching in the afternoons because I will continue helping in the clinic each morning.

Every morning, Mark and I help take vitals for all of the patients. I usually do blood pressures and heart rates. Mark takes temperatures and also deals with the kids. Since kids are too small to have their blood pressure taken, I skip them. Mark has to take their heart rate, temp, and weight. Everyone – myself and the other adult patients – gets a kick out of this. Some kids are quiet and cooperative, but many react in the opposite manner. They will kick and scream, petrified that this big, bearded “mzungu” is going to torture them with his stethoscope. Some refuse to step on the scale, convinced it is burning hot coals or something. As their mothers try to lower them onto it, they desperately pick up their feet, attempt to straddle it, or just go limp-legged and cry out, “Maaamaaaa!” Although Mark and these poor children would starkly disagree, it usually gets a good giggle from the otherwise quiet line of patients waiting their turn to be seen.

Beside vitals, Mark and I have been keeping busy this past month with a host of tasks. We completely reorganized the pharmacy storage closet and assumed the duty of regular inventory of all the drugs. We fixed the incinerator, which is the waste management system of choice around here. It had been broken for some time and a serious pile of trash had been accumulating. We have been chipping away at it, burning in the evenings, and are almost caught up. We also have become experienced errand boys, picking up groceries, clinic supplies, and anything else unavailable in little Ddegeya (which is most things). We are also working on a proposal for a rainwater harvesting system. It is still much in the planning phase, but it’s a project that has us both excited about its potential. We also cleared a plot of land to start a vegetable garden that has been requested by some folks on staff here. That is pretty much how we have been filling our days in the month or so we have been here.

In the evenings, a swarm of children tend to migrate to the field behind the clinic. I spend the day’s last hours of light running around with the kids, playing soccer in the next village over, or just reading and learning some more Luganda. It has been just over one month since I arrived and all is well. I think teaching will prove to be an enormous challenge but I’m trying to tell myself it may have its rewards as well. Either way, it’s certainly going to be a learning experience.

The Burial

Wed, 17 Aug 2011 11:58:00 -0400

(written roughly a week ago to date)

Around mid-afternoon on Monday, John informed us that there would be a burial in the village and invited us to attend. Since “funeral crashing” is generally a frowned upon act, I questioned weather or not I should go. John seemed to think it would be a good experience, so trusting his judgment, Mark and I decided to go. He told us it was across the street and instructed us to walk with Eddy (our buddy) since he and Keith (an Engeye board member) were going to take John’s motorcycle there. I called Eddy but he didn’t answer so we decided to walk independently.

I saw some people in their church clothes and figured it would be a safe bet to follow them. They crossed the main road and headed down a footpath into the crop fields. After taking several seemingly random turns and following these well-dressed strangers along a convoluted path deep into the banana fields, I started to wonder if we were just stocking some innocent people on their way home. John’s description of “across the street” did not seem to match our journey. But sure enough, after fifteen minutes or so, we began to see a gathering of people through the banana trees.

In rural villages like Ddegeya, families bury their lost ones on their property. This particular burial was amid a banana field alongside a few other graves, which were raised mounds bordered by brick. Since the service was not yet over, only men were hanging around the hole, quietly conversing. More and more people trickled in from all directions. Some people were dressed colorfully in their “church clothes” but others were just in their regular “digging clothes”. A few people who we knew greeted us with smiles, and the worry that people would see us as tourist using a tragedy as a cultural attraction, disappeared.

The service was being held in a church upon a hill that could be seen from the burial sight. A mass of people began pouring out of the church and slowly an enormous procession began walking down the hill towards us. Without any sort of order, people began to surround the hole as the mixture of singing and cries drew nearer. A number of ministers (male and female) surrounded the hole and led the crowd in song. Unlike the quiet, private burials in the US, this burial was a community event. The singing of over two hundred people resonated throughout the banana field. Some close relatives were wailing and shouting, but the steady singing continued and even seemed to increase in volume as to drown out the crying.

After a few prayers and songs, the actual burial began. The community sang a final song of thanks (the chorus of which was webale, meaning thank you in Luganda) and each person took their turn throwing in flowers or a handful of dirt. Some returned to the church for food and drink but many just returned to their daily routine. A few people thanked us for coming and invited us back up to the church but we declined and returned to the clinic.

It is pretty amazing how news of a death spreads so quickly throughout the village by word of mouth alone. It is even more amazing that most of community, with no advanced notice, drops what they are doing to take part in a communal farewell. It was pretty cool to witness such an intimate village affair.

Ddegeya Village

Sun, 07 Aug 2011 07:09:00 -0400

Mark and I have been in Ddegeya Village for roughly two weeks. We have gotten our bearings in many ways, but are still learning more and more each day. I will try to give a brief description of life here, as I currently understand it:

Ddegeya is a small village in southeast Uganda, very removed from anything resembling urban life. It is roughly three hours from the capital city, Kampala, and forty-five minutes from Masaka, the major commercial center of the district. The area and culture is rural. The vast majority of people “dig” (farm) for a living. Corn, cassava, beans, coffee, white potatoes, sweet potatoes, yams, and sugar cane are the crops grown. People also grow several fruits - mangos, a variety of bananas, guava, papaya, lemons, limes, jackfruit, and passion fruit. Since it is a village of subsistence farmers, everyone has land and therefore everybody is very spread out. I had imagined the clinic here amid a condensed village of homes and shops, but that is not the case. People still congregate by the village center, schools, soccer field, water sources, churches/mosques, the clinic, cross roads, etc. It is still a very intimate and familiar community.

That is Ddegeya in a nutshell. I am sleeping well, feeling great, and eating even better. It is at times difficult to believe I have only scratched the surface of a nine month experience, but I have found it is better not to think about it. I am staying busy helping out around the clinic, meeting new people everyday, and beginning to learn Luganda. There is much to come, but I would say I am off to a good start.

Photo

Tue, 12 Jul 2011 00:11:38 -0400

Ante Excessum

Mon, 11 Jul 2011 23:58:48 -0400

Since graduation, a month or so ago, I have been enjoying time at home with my family and hometown friends. It has been really nice. I have been visiting with grandparents, aunts & uncles, cousins, old friends and new, as well as resting on the beach and tossing in the waves as often as I can. This period between school and my upcoming trip has been truly special. I must admit that it is a bit hard to leave home this time of year.

Nevertheless, the fast approaching departure for Uganda, conjures a mixture of feelings - eagerness to be in a new place, sadness to leave everyone for so long, and uncertainty simultaneously creating uneasiness and tremendous excitement. Blind to what is to come, I am unable to know much of anything at all.

The few things I do know are that I have a great comrade (Mark) and that I am doing something that I will never regret. I have learned a bit from past fellows (thanks Elliot & Sarah) and feel as though I have gained some insight as what life will be like in Ddegeya. I know that living in the village and becoming part of the community will be one of the most incredible experiences I will have. I know that my name will be either Elliot or Mzungu for the first few weeks or months. And I know that I will walk away from this experienced having learned and taken so much more from the people than is possible for me to give to them.

Other than that, the rest remains to be unknown. But I guess thats part of what makes the Minerva Fellowship what it is.