Welcome to Uganda!

Upon reaching the Ugandan border, we left the bus to walk across the border and apply for our visa in the immigration office.  We were surprisingly greeted in English (one of the first times since being in Africa), paid our $50 US, and were granted entry into Uganda for 3 months.  The landscape and people in Uganda were noticeably different; trash littered the dirt roads, people weren’t smiling much, and we began driving on the left-hand side of the road.  After stopping to get gas about 2 hours into the trip, we headed back out on the road and saw plastic bags and bottles whizzing past our window; all the bus passengers began throwing their out their trash.  We were both a bit horrified but tried to hide our shock as everyone else assumed littering was completely acceptable.  8 hours on the bus, and we arrived in Kampala; the capital and main city in Uganda.  We took a taxi to a local backpackers called Red Chili and tried to regroup and relax.  After meeting another friendly backpacker, an American guy working in Sudan (but in Uganda for a couple weeks), we went out for a yummy Indian meal at the local mall.  The next day, our coordinator, Leslie picked us up, along with a couple fellow volunteers who had just flown into the country.  Leslie was bubbly, positive, and honest about our time in Uganda.  She brought us to the new volunteer house; quite a bit different to where we stayed in Rwanda.  To start, about 10 minutes after we arrived we heard a crashing noise and ran outside to find that a moto driver had skidded off the road and hit a man and a woman holding her baby (the first of 3 crashes we would see within 4 days).  Thankfully all involved were okay, but a shocking sight to see the first few minutes at our new home.  The moto drivers in Uganda are all unlicensed, without helmets, and decidedly a bit scarier than what we had experienced in Rwanda.  The shower at our new home consists of a square concrete room with a hole in the corner and a few buckets along the edges.  To bathe, we must (in a variety of positions) scoop the water from the bucket over our body.  When “nature calls”, we have to climb down four flights of stairs armed with our flip flops, headlamp, toilet paper, and scarf wrapped tightly around our faces (imagine a burglar).  The latrine is a small cement box with a hole in the middle that is rarely cleaned, covered in cockroaches, and the worst smelling toilet I have ever encountered.  We have come up with a strategy to spray one of my scarves with perfume, and then wrap it tightly around our faces, with the headlamp securely on our foreheads.  Because we are uncertain as to what the walls, door, and surroundings may be covered in, it is necessary to balance carefully over the hole while squatting to avoid touching anything.  Clearly it is not the most pleasant experience, but one that is part of many local Ugandans’ lives.  Another common occurrence in Uganda is power outages; we’ve had dinner by flashlight 3 of the 4 nights here already. 

We met our manager, Travis, a local Ugandan man who runs the NGO called FREDA (Foundation for the Relief and Development of Africa) here in Mukono, Uganda.  It’s a grassroots organization that works deep in villages to educate locals about topics like sanitation, HIV/AIDS, domestic violence prevention, nutrition, and sex education.  Travis is open-minded, funny, and passionate about equal rights and development in Uganda.  Growing up poor, and now with a family of his own; he really believes in a positive future for the country. 

Travis took us out to “shake bones” as he calls dancing at a local bar.  While we made up some dance moves (the chicken, nature calls, and making chapatti), we sampled the local beer and tunes.  The next night, our house mum/cook Jackie taught us how to cook over charcoal.  After lighting the coals with plastic (probably not the healthiest fumes to be inhaling), we waited for the coals to heat up, chopped veggies, and chatted about recipes.  We had to fight her a bit when cooking the vegetables for our Africa “stir-fry”, when we wanted to take them off the heat but she insisted they were only half cooked.  Our first week in Uganda has been very overwhelming and exciting, and we’re looking forward to our first week of work in a rural village on Monday J

xo Cait

Last week in Rwanda

For our last week in Rwanda, Amy spent her time up at the rural health clinic in Gisenyi helping test people for HIV, deliver babies and help with emergency care.  I decided to stay in Kigali and work with the women’s cooperative.

For International Women’s Day, I brought in cookies and nail polish to give the women a pamper day while they worked on their crafts.  They devoured the cookies while I painted their nails either pink or red (some of them had never painted their toe nails before!); a much needed break from their usual days of survival and stress.  That afternoon, I took one of the girls that FVA looks after (pays her school fees, helps with rent, etc.) to the local market to buy some new clothes.  Janine lives alone with her father, who is an alcoholic and abusive, where they share a bed (we are hoping the abuse isn’t sexual).  FVA worked with the local community to move her into a new home with a family friend.  Whenever she came by the office, she always seemed to be in her school uniform.  My boss told me she only has a few other clothes, so usually wears her uniform most days.  After trying on a few tops and pants, we tried to bargain with the market vendor to get a good deal on the second hand clothes.  When he tried to charge me twice what a local would pay, I decided to give Janine the money and hide behind the corner of the next stall.  Our strategy worked!  We got some new tops, a pair of pants, and a new pair of shoes, and topped it all of with a cold mango juice on the walk home.  It made me really appreciate all the times my parents took me back-to-school shopping; that so many kids over here never get that experience.  Janine was beaming all the way home.  Although I was sad to say goodbye, it was reassuring that Janine was in a new, safe home and had a smile on her face.  The rest of the week was spent paying for school fees for 9 of the womens' children; thanks again donors :)  One of the women was so grateful she had FVA's driver deliver a hand-beaded pen, set of handmade coasters, and a beautifully written thank you card (in English and Kinyarwanda of course) to our guesthouse.

After finishing our evaluation report to our managers, we set about saying goodbye to all the wonderful friends we had made while in Rwanda.  We had a farewell dinner at our favorite pizza place Sole Luna, and had our last night out at our favorite night spot Papyrus where we danced the night away.  The day before leaving we lied by the Embassy pool, bbq’d and talked about how much we’d miss Rwanda.  We procrastinated so badly that by midnight, we still hadn’t packed (the worst part being that our bus was at 5am the next morning).  To top it all off, our driver to the bus arrived 15 minutes late by foot, and our car wouldn’t start.  Thankfully we arrived at the bus while everyone was boarding, and started our journey to Uganda.  We will never forget the experiences and friends we’ve made in Rwanda.  To put it into words, it was challenging, fun, frustrating, exciting, confusing, and wonderful all at the same time.

Xo Cait

Uganda Update

So Amy and I have to apologize for being so delayed with our next posts.  Unfortunately we had three new entries on the way that were saved on my computer, which has since been stolen.  Although my bedroom was locked whenever we left the house, it must have been stolen while we were in the house.  Luckily my insurance will cover this loss, as long as I get a police report, but we are now without a computer for the next four months.  We will of course attempt to re-write some of the lost posts and put up some new pictures, but until we have access to another computer it may take us a while with work, etc.  Other than the laptop being gone (one of our only sources of entertainment!) Uganda has been great.  Mukono is definitely closer to the Africa we had imagined; streets are chaotic and a bit scary, the toilets are latrines that are 4 flights of stairs down from the house, there is no television, and electricity comes and goes throughout the day.  We are very excited to start work tomorrow, where we will head to a rural village about an hours drive and educate villagers about sanitation, nutrition, HIV, safe sex, and other health issues.  Wish us luck, and we will be in touch as soon as we can!

xo Cait

Gorilla Encounter

The alarm pierced the silence of the night and the three of us sat up sleepily under our mosquito nets rubbing our eyes as they adjusted to the light. Was it already 5.15am? The excitement of the day ahead dawned on us quickly and we were soon out of bed showering and packing the essentials for the day. Dressed in layers of clothes we climbed into the land rover which would take us the headquarters of Parc National des Volcans. At 7.00am gorilla groups are assigned and a briefing is held over a cup of hot coffee.  We were hoping to request to the Susa group and had arrived early knowing that nearly everyone who shows up to the park headquarters each morning is gunning to track this group. The Susa group, the largest gorilla group with 29
members, is also the hardest group to reach and we were prepared for a potentially long, wet and cold trek through the steep slopes of the rain forest. We were in luck, we had arrived early enough and looked
fit enough to be assigned to Susa group. Sitting next to our guide, with the rest of the group in vehicle
ahead of us, we drove for around an hour through villages and over solidified lava flows along the base of the Karisimbi volcano to reach the point were we would start the trek. With wooden trekking poles we
set off walking through the alpine meadows. Fields of potatoes and waist high daisys boarded the grass track. The towering mist covered volcanoes made a breath taking backdrop. Women with babies strapped to
their backs worked in the fields and groups of children ran to greet us. We commented that perhaps the trek wasn't going to be as hard as we had initially thought. The guide overheard this comment and informed
us that we hadn't started the trek yet - the first 40 minutes was just the walk to the edge of Parc National des Volcans. Climbing over a knee high stone wall, we were know in the Parc which is home to the remaining 810 mountain gorillas left in the world. Initially on a track, the ascent started off gently with a gradual climb through the dense bamboo. Later we moved off the track and scrambled for hours through dense vegetation and up steep muddy hillsides, pulling ourselves up on branches and vines. The climb was strenuous and the
thin air at the higher altitude made it hard to breath. With tentative steps we cautiously climbed across a canopy of vines. Leading the group our guide sliced through hanging vines and the thick overgrowth
of stinging nettles using a machete. We had been advised to wear long sleeved clothing as we may encounter stinging nettles. What they hadn't mentioned was that we would be crawling through stinging nettles for
close to an hour and that light weight clothing would do little to protect against the nettles which easily penetrated through our layers of clothes. Our hands, arms and legs stung with the fiery skin rash. It was at
least a good distraction from our burning lungs and headache from the altitude. A group of trackers had set off an hour earlier than us to locate the group, however 3 hours into our trek the trackers radioed through advising they had not yet found them. An hour later, at an altitude of 3200 meters, our guide found discards of bamboo shoots and announced that the gorillas had passed through where we were within the last hour. Minutes later the radio crackled. The trackers had found them and we were really close! We left our bags in a clearing, taking only our cameras with us. Walking single file, the excitement and anticipation of the group could be felt in the air. The guide made our presence known through a series of calls and grunts before coming to a sudden halt. In unison the group gasped. Less than 3 meters away sat a giant silverback crunching nosily on wild celery. It was incredible to be face to face with a 400kg gorilla. No bars, no windows. A humble guest in his domain. We stood in silence watching on in amazement. We moved on after a while to
find the rest of the Susa family knowing they would be close to the silverback, the head of their family. I don't think anything can quite prepare you for the moment when you come upon a gorilla group in the wild; the first glimpse of a black juvenile climbing up a tree, it's mother watching protectively on from nearby; the rustling of foliage and crunching of bamboo as a gorilla reaches for a second bamboo shoot and when a giant silver back rises to size you up. The group was moving and foraging as they feed so we spend much of the next hour on
the move with them. While watching a fully grown female groom herself, one of the guides noticed more of the Susa group ahead and motioned for us to move forwards. The female we had been observing seemed
unfazed by the first half of our group passing by her.  As I moved forward I was aware that she was starting to move. There were two paths that she could take and I was right in the middle. Not wanting to block her path, I stood still feeling fairly calm and expecting her meander past me on one of the two tracks. My heart began to beat a little faster, and was soon pounding as I realized that this 200kg gorilla is now coming directly towards me. What do I do? Do I move slowly forwards? Tip toe backwards? Crouch down? Run? My mind is racing and I think back to the briefing earlier in the day and realize with a sickening feeling that they didn't cover this. We learnt about what gorillas eat, how they breed and about the Susa group but nothing about what to do should a gorilla have you in its sights and moving at pace towards you. I am not aware of anything else around me at this stage and time is moving in slow motion. The gorilla is close enough that I can hear her breathing. Next I realize is that her giant hand is reaching towards me and that she has a firm grip on the calf of my leg. She releases her grip and I feel Cait's hand grab on to my arm pulling me backwards and she is telling me to move. As we step back I exhale not realizing that I had been holding my breath. The gorilla has now turned away and is moving in the opposite direction and Cait and I are taking steady steps backwards. The female glances back over her shoulder at us and then turns. Cait and I freeze. We stand there clinging to each as the gorilla once again is coming towards us. At this point Cait is convinced that we are going to be killed or the very least end up missing limbs or parts of our faces. Our friend Adrian, who is watching on helplessly, told us later that they look on our faces was priceless. Cait and I start backing away, and from somewhere behind the guide assures us it is ok but that we need to get
out of here. He turns and runs, leaving Cait and I no longer in danger but alone in the jungle with 29 gorillas in close vicinity. Meanwhile, Adrian, who was with the second guide and the other half of our group, is also having an up close encounter with 4 gorillas. Having found themselves surrounded by a circle of 4 gorillas, including 2 silverback, they looked to their guide for directions on what they were going to do. The guide
simply replied, "we are trapped". Nothing like stating the obvious. After a few moments one of the silverbacks moved forwards to walk off, gently backhanding the guide as he walked by sending the guide to the ground. Cait and I soon found the rest of the group and were later reunited with Adrian's half of the group. Our hour with the gorillas was now up. The walk back down was slippery in the rain and we came across another 5 gorillas on the way. It was late afternoon by the time we got back to the car, exhausted and covered in mud and with amazing memories and tales of coming face to face with gorillas in the wild. An experience we will never forget.
Axx

Gisenyi and Health Clinic

Sitting here cross-legged on the corrugated iron roof of the guesthouse, I am wrapped in a blanket looking out across Lake Kivu  to the to the shores of the Congo. Barefoot children laugh happily and play in the field out front with a homemade football. The dusk sky, being sung in by a chorus of cicadas, is a mix of pinks, blues and greys. Above me black fruit bats dot the evening sky as they make their nightly migration back across the lake from the Congo. Singing coming from nearby is interrupted by the occasional cry of a goat and I can taste a smokiness in my mouth as the smoke from wood cooking fires drifts past. Night has fallen quickly and the soft orange glow from the volcano across the lake is now visible and I notice for the first time how bright the stars are out here away from the city. It seems like a good spot to sit and reflect. Today I witnessed both birth and death. The call from the clinic came not too long after we had arrived at the orphanage. A woman had walked herself to the clinic and was ready to birth. We waved down a bus and scrambled on board, climbing over passengers and the back of the drivers seat so we could squeeze into the only spare seat in the front. A short way down the road we got off the bus and jumped on the back of pushbikes. The rural road was muddy and potholed. We had to get off the bikes at one stage and run up the hill before climbing back on the bikes. Upon arriving at the clinic we found the woman lying on her back in the birthing room, feet in stirrups, a bucket on the floor below. There was little more in the room apart from the bed which was covered in plastic sheet and a mop propped up against the wall. Paint was chipping off the concrete walls and two aprons hung from a hook. I put on gloves and grabbed one of the disposable aprons - noting that it looked well used, torn in places and stained. The lady was fully dilated and the baby crowning. The sole nurse of the clinic and another volunteer - whose 'medical' background was 2 years in veterinary college - were also in the room with Cait and I. The nurse was concerned that the labour was not progressing so made the decision to insert a catheter to empty the woman's bladder. This speed things up. After a few pushes and a bit of assistance pulling the head out the baby was born and placed on a stainless steel bench. While the nurse and Patrick delivered the placenta, Cait and I checked over and wiped the baby. Under Patrick's guidance I tied the cord with two pieces of wool and cut it before weighing and measuring the baby - 3kg exactly and 45cm long. After swaddling the baby I took him over to meet his Mum. She glanced at him briefly but appeared almost uninterested -  we later found out that contact between mother and baby after birth is not a common occurrence over here. So for the first 15 minutes of this baby's life I held him, watching him open his eyes for the first time and welcoming him to the world. After being checked for hemorrhaging the new mother matter-of-factly put her skirt back on - she didn't own any underwear - and walked herself into the connecting room, the 'maternity ward', where she lay down on one of the six beds - none of which had sheets, blankets or pillows. 

We left the Mother to rest and went to see our next patient, a 52 year old man in the final stages of AIDS. Emaciated, with sunken eyes and temples it was evident there was little medically that could be done to help this man but make him comfortable and sit with him in his final hours. All to often patients come to the clinic and end up dying alone in one of the concrete rooms without even a blanket. We sat beside this man, whose name no one seemed to know, holding his hand and fanning him. I hoped that our love and care was being conveyed through these gestures and the look in our eyes - as this was the only common language we shared. Helping him to sit up to take a sip of Fanta I could feel each one of his ribs down his back. His whole body rattled violently with pneumonia each breath he took. As his heart rate decreased and his breathing became increasingly shallow and rapid I prayed that death would come quickly and without pain.  For me the reality of this devastating disease hit home today and I struggle knowing the death I witnessed today was preventable. The clinic nurse called an 'ambulance' to take this man to the hospital to die as it would mean less paperwork for this already under resourced and under staffed clinic. The ambulance arrived 3 hours later. After the ambulance driver finished his cell phone call for 10 minutes, he made the poor man walk to the stretcher (which had wheels) himself.  Although there were no medical miracles today; the kindness and compassion that we were able to share with the patients made up for our lack of experience and resources.

Axx

Ibi Wacu Cultural Village

This weekend we finally ventured out of Kigali to visit a cultural village, go gorilla trekking, and stay in a town called Gisenyi by Lake Kivu.  The whole experience was made a bit more comfortable with the help of our friends at the embassy, whose driver took us up north in the luxurious Chevy suburban.  The poverty and desperation becomes much more clear when leaving the city, and the standard of living is extremely different.  It is amazing to see kids of five or six carrying huge canisters of water, a large bag of potatoes or corn on their head, or a machete used to cut grass in their hands.  Some are even working in the fields plowing, digging, and working on the crops.  The countryside is absolutely beautiful, and we understand now why they call Rwanda "The Land of a Thousand Hills".  The vegetation is lush and green, and the hills and mountains roll off into the distance until they fade away into the clouds.  When we arrived in Musanze, we checked in to the Kinigi Guesthouse, which had beautiful gardens, stone sidewalks, and (most importantly) a restaurant with hot food and cold beer.  Luckily the receptionist at the guesthouse knew someone who worked in the cultural village, who was able to set up a visit the afternoon we arrived.  Our guide was super friendly and even told us that we were Rwandan once we stepped into the village.  Ibi Wacu is comprised of around 2,000 people, of whom most are ex gorilla poachers.  Because of this cultural village project and other efforts, 95% of poaching has been reduced because the men are able to make money from tourism as opposed to poaching.  

Before entering the king's house, our guide told us that we must appoint a king, since the current king is living in Texas (not allowed back in Rwanda unless he's willing to denounce his king status).  We had to appoint the only male, our friend Adrian, who was then allowed to enter the palace and put on his royal attire.  He then welcomed us both into his house, and our guide made us aware of the privileges of kingdom. The most interesting to us was that the king technically owned all Rwandan women.  If he saw a beautiful woman walking on the road, he could take her with him for a few days (spent on his 'king size bed'), then would send her home with a few cows and some land.  Because of this, women's husbands would willingly allow them to leave with the king (and of course the threat of death if they protested usually kept them from trying to stop the king as well).

After donning traditional dresses, getting a tour of the king's bedroom, and learning the customs, we were greeted by the sound of drums and singing outside the king's house.  The performers were dressed in warrior costumes and danced proudly to the beat of the drums.  We then moved on to grind sorghum (a starch used to make porridge) with two large stones as women still do in smaller villages.  A medicine man showed us a few different mixtures he used for ailments such as backaches, difficulty conceiving, and trouble 'getting it up'.  We're pretty sure one of the remedies smelled like marijuana, but we didn't like to question traditional medicines.  Drummers then performed for us, and invited us to join in on the action.  The warriors each did their own unique dance, and by the end, had us all dancing along and teaching us some moves (not that we could actually follow, but we tried).   Our experience ended with many thanks from the villagers and guide, and an escort from about 10 local kids who held our hands as we walked down the road to catch moto's.  Another beautiful experience in Rwanda...

xo Cait

Happy Valentine's Day!

Last week we did the program evaluation for Gahanga Primary School, with one of our fellow volunteers Natalie.  The cumulative walk to work and bus ride took about 30 minutes, and surprisingly within that time we were transported into rural Rwanda.  It happened to be a Wednesday as well, which is market day, where all the locals head to the market to buy their food for the week, clothing, and any other odds and ends.  It was wonderful to see the hustle and bustle of a rural town, and the school was even more lovely.  The standards of Gahanga Primary were a pleasant surprise, with all of the kids sitting at desks, pen and paper in hand, smiling and ready to learn.  Unfortunately many of the teachers were outside texting and socializing with each other, while our friend Natalie was facing the 53 children in the classroom with a smile and an amazing positive attitude.  She definitely has a gift for teaching, that was magnified by her ability to teach the kids plural and singular English, amid the complete language barrier.  Another side note- instead of raising their hands quietly, the kids snap their fingers and throw their arms around, eagerly yelling "teacha, teacha" when asked a question.  By western standards, the school was basic at best, but we were impressed by the number of teachers, classroom standards, and excitement of the kids to learn and answer questions.

Admittedly, Amy and I had a very lazy weekend. Friday night we went to a club called Cadillac where there are floor to ceiling mirrors on part of the dance floor where the best (or people who think they're the best) dancers watch themselves get down.  Other eventful happenings that night; we carried a fork out in our bag (to ward off unwanted male attention on the dance floor) and were caught by the security woman at the entrance, Amy got charged for toilet paper in the bathroom when no one else did, we danced to "Who Let the Dogs Out" techno version, and by the end of the night my feet were eggplant purple from dancing on the purple carpeting.  Saturday was spent napping on and off all day (it was pouring rain and thunderstorms- perfect napping weather!), followed by a movie Saturday night.  After watching the food channel one night (Bobby Flay's throwdown; french toast) we had a lingering craving for french toast.  We found some sweet raisin bread at the shop, eggs, milk, and our friends at the U.S. Embassy had cinnamon.  To make it extra gourmet, we bought creme fraiche and strawberry jam to do a layered effect with the french toast.  Wow...it was more than satisfying, although we did feel a little sick after 4 slices each, but it was well worth it to splurge.  The only debacle we got into was when Amy shook the creme fraiche to mix it, and it exploded 360 degrees all over our friend Adriane, the walls, and the floor.  Sunday we tried to have a day by the pool, but were rained out in a downpour that lasted all afternoon, so we watched the movie Due Date which replaced the tan we would have been getting with lots of laughs.  In the evening, we went to Flamingo, a Chinese restaurant, where our waiter told us he drank 12 beers or 3 liters of wine to get a buzz and I paid 400 Rwandan Francs for a takeaway container.  Thankfully the food was delicious; beef and broccoli, veggie spring rolls, duck in pineapple, and vegetable noodles mmm.

On Valentine's Day we met (for a second time) with our friend Emma from an organization called Pro Femmes, an umbrella organization for all NGO's working with women's empowerment, and were able to get the contact details for a long list of women's organizations.  We'd love to connect the women at FVA with some training/education services, counselling (if desired) to cope with the violence at home, and micro-finance organizations to get small loans for their crafts and co-operative.  When we happened to get back to town to look for a moto home, we were bombarded by the rush hour traffic of pedestrians, buses, cars, and motos; all full and all wanting to leave town.  After finding two moto's (we're 99% sure they were unregistered, random people), we were both weaving in an out of traffic, and driving down the center line with cars whizzing by on both sides.  Amy's driver even took out a few car mirrors and knicked a man crossing the street.  Even though our Valentine's Day lacked flowers, sappy romance cards, and poems (although we did get promised some roses earlier in the day), we shared some Mint Crisp Cadbury chocolate in the spirit of the occasion.

We have also met with the women from the GBV Program again regarding health insurance, to make sure that their whole family is insured for the next year.  Of course, like everything over here, things are moving slowly because of the processes involved in paying for the insurance.  First the money must be deposited into the bank account of the specific health clinic which the woman goes to.  This can take a while on it's own, considering there is sometimes a line of over 50 people outside the bank. After this you must take the receipt from the bank to the health center, along with a passport photo (which costs about as much as the insurance itself to print), and the information about the family members.  Finally it takes one month to process and verify all the information.  It is a long process, but we are will to continue until all the women and their families are insured for the next year.  Thanks again to all the donors for allowing me to do this!  
xo Cait