A week in a rural village

There are 21 of us crammed into a 12 seater van. Our bags are on our laps and at our feet are sacks of rice and fresh produce from the markets. Arms and legs are entangled and bodies fit into the curves of the people sitting beside you. The plan was to be on the road by 10am, but this is ‘Africa time’ and we get on the bus at 5pm. The journey takes about an hour and by the time we get off the bus it is dark. The village we are traveling to is not accessible by road so bodas (motorbike taxis) take us the remainder of our journey. Balancing on the back of the boda, I am wearing my backpack and on each knee I have a bag of supplies. The road is dusty and potholed and I watch a lightening storm light up the night sky in the distance. We are deep in rural Uganda. The village has no electricity or running water, many families have no access to latrines or health care. Sanitation and hygiene is poor and the prevalence of HIV/AIDS and other diseases is high. The life expectancy in these villages is around 42 years for men and 45 years for women. Over the next 2 years FREDA will work closely with village leaders to help the community identify their needs and be supported in making changes. During this visit will be meeting with different groups in the village and facilitating discussions and education sessions about health, hygiene, sanitation, nutrition and domestic violence. Our messages are basic – the importance of washing hands with soap and water, keeping latrines covered to reduce germ transmission by flies, boiling drinking water, HIV/AIDS and eating fruits and vegetables. Arriving in the village in at night means we attract little attention. We have been given the newest house in the village to stay at. It has two small rooms, concrete floor and corrugated iron roof. There is one window which has piece of cardboard where the glass should be and apart from the woven sleeping mats on the floor the house is empty. Later, two foam mattresses are brought to the house – they look well used and have a slightly urinary smell to them. I am grateful at the gesture but feel uncomfortable knowing that a family in the village has given up their beds for us. We take a walk out the back to find the latrine drop toilet which is shared by nearby houses. To get to it we need to go over a pile of dirt, past a pile of wood, past the burning rubbish pit and around the goats and chickens. It seems that the latrine is home to about 50 huge cockroaches which are running up and down the walls. I really hope that I don’t need to use it during the night.  Dinner is served late in the village, often not until 10pm, so we decide to take a walk around the village. We are invited in for a drink at the local pub. We sit on low wooden benches beneath the thatched roof. The floor is mud. We are offered some of the local spirit, made from fermented matoke (green bananas). The white liquor is poured from an old coke bottle into a glass. Even in the dull light from the kerosene lamp I can see how dirty the communal glass is. The drink is strong and burns my throat. It tastes like a mixture of cheap tequila and rubbing alcohol. I figure that the alcohol should at least kill any germs on the glass.  For dinner we are served a huge bowl of cooked green bananas before bunking down for an unsettled night on the floor. We wake to a beautiful summer’s day and it is already hot. Word has spread quickly around the village that we are here and we have many visitors who come past to see us. It is the first time that muzungu (white people) have come to the village and people seem excited that we are here. We walk to a nearby school to talk with the children about sanitation and hygiene as well as HIV/AIDS. On the way we pass children who have skipped school and are sitting on the roadside digging for ants to eat. These ants are huge and look more like flying grasshoppers. For lunch we are served half a fish each (head, eyes, tail, fins and skin attached) which we eat with our hands. In the afternoon we walk about 4km to a nearby village to meet with a group of women. They are gathered on mats in the shade under a tree. Later on we take a walk to Lake Victoria. At the lake fishermen are coming back in, children stand on the waters edge filling jerry cans and women wash clothes laying them on the grass to dry. We walk home watching the sun set. Many of the houses we pass are made from mud with grass roofs. Children run around naked and goats, chickens and pigs roam freely. As we walk by heads peak around doorways and trees. Children are either intrigued by our light skin or cry in fear and run away. Most have never seen a white person before. A family offers us a bowl of fried bugs which they are eating for dinner. I know how rude it is to decline food that is offered. I am also touched by the fact that this family has nothing and most likely don’t know what they will eat tomorrow but still invite us to eat with them. The bugs have little taste apart from the oil they have been fried in but it is the texture as I crunch on them that I struggle with the most. We are offered another local drink. It is in a plastic container on the floor with 6 long wooden straws coming out of it. The drink looks like a thick muddy paste it had a strong yeast taste and is gritty in texture. One sip is enough for me.  We head home, tired and exhausted. I am looking forward to being able to wash as we have walked close to 10km today and I am covered in red dust and sweat. We are given a plastic basin and about a litre of water which I take out the back. As we get ready to go to bed the giant moth we had seen last night reappears and starts swooping around the room, it turns out to be a bat. Travis comes to the rescue and is able to catch it. While this is going on I am ducking every time it comes near me and Cait is curled up in a ball in the corner with her scarf over her head.  A group of children are waiting outside our door in the morning and we play ball with them before we set off for the day. Most of the children in the village are suffering from malnutrition, they have skinny arms and legs and their stomachs are distended due to a diet low in calories and protein and high in carbohydrates. It is heart breaking to see. We speak at school in the morning and walk to another village in the afternoon. On the way we come across a group of girls aged about 3 to 6 years. They walk with us the rest of the way, holding our hands and singing. An old and possibly senile lady runs out to greet us when we arrive, she dances around, sings and hugs us, before making a yodel like noise. I think she is excited we are here. The whole village has come to listen to us and the session goes really well. Back at the village we are staying at we meet with the youth in the evening. We head home on Thursday after planting a community vegetable garden and running a session on nutrition. I am sad to leave this village which has welcomed us with open arms, I have loved my time here and being a part of village life and look forward to the ongoing work we will do with this village over the next few months.

Axx