This
past week I’ve had a lot to process; experiencing my first net distribution,
Linda leaving Soroti, and moving into my new house.
Distribution
Drama
Our net distribution experienced shortages in
the thousands, people fighting over nets, and semis getting stuck in the mud,
but the real drama happened behind the scenes.
The same Ministry of Health guy, “J”, (whom I argued with about sexual
harassment) was at the center of it. He
and I argued again this week, but that’s just a minute part of what unfolded.
The day before the distribution we were all
busy helping each other finish calculations and allocating nets. Sister Grace joined us to help with the
paperwork. She’s probably in her 50’s,
and when I first met her two weeks ago, I was a little intimidated by her. J walked up to where we were sitting, and out
of nowhere, Grace just started telling him off:
Grace: J, you think you’re the boss
of these people and everyone is complaining about working with you! Why can’t you just be a part of the
team?! You say you’re from the Ministry
of Health, but you’re not.
J: I have my appointment as a
medical social worker. I am an employee of the ministry. I have my letter.
Grace:
You are just an intern. Everyone is
complaining about you. Even her
(pointing at me as I just kept my head down and traced red ink over the allocation
numbers).
J: I
can leave now. Where is your letter? (standing in a wide stance with his hands
on hips).
Grace:
You get away from me!
In one swift motion, she took off her shoe
and started hitting him with it! I
really thought that I was about to see my first fight in Africa.
Grace:
Don’t play with me! You even told me that these girls f***** the drivers.
I guess to save face, he went over to
another group and started talking to them like nothing happened. Finally, when he left the shelter, and we all
just died laughing. Stella, (whom I’ve
been working with most on our subcounty), said “Ashley, I thought you were
going to run away!! This was like a Nigerian movie! Nigeria versus Ghana!” I’ve never seen any Nigerian movies, but they
are pretty popular in Africa.
Sister Grace said that J had been saying
that to get a job in the Ministry of Health you needed to have her last name.
They also said that he had been spreading rumors about some of the girls
getting paid to sleep with the drivers and even with their cousins. Sister Grace said they she had even heard all
the way down in Kampala about him and me arguing. Wow! News travels fast about muzungus, I
guess. It just affirmed that J was persona non grata and that if I ever
need a bodyguard, I’m calling Sister Grace.
The actual day of the distribution, I was
shuffled around a bit, but was finally assigned to go with Deo to Labor
(Lah-Boar) Subounty. He had eight
different distribution points, which were close to each other. We crisscrossed the subounty all. day.
long. I bet we visited each distribution
point at least three times. There was a
shortage at one place of over 15 bales (1500 nets), so we went back to Obangin
because there was an excess of 4 bales. Upon returning, we found out that
people were angry because some of the Village Health Teams failed to register
several households. Patrick, a local nurse, who had been assisting us, said
that eventually people started fighting over the nets. They overpowered him and a police officer, so
he just left. Apparently, this village
has a reputation for being a bit feisty.
The local councilman said that he tried to warn us.
Many of our distribution points were in
front of primary schools. The student’s
uniforms are every color of the rainbow.
In one day, I can see kids at different schools running around in pink,
purple, yellow, blue and orange. At one
school, all the kids in pink started gathering around the truck to take a peek
at me sitting in the back. At first, I
played it cool by jotting down some notes.
But then I decided to have some fun with them. So, I yelled “BOO!” at them and put my hands
up like claws. They all screamed and
laughed and ran back a few feet. Because
there were so many of them crowding around the other staff trying to do actual
work, I asked them to follow me to the other side of the tree. I felt like the muzungu pied piper. Although I was an English teacher for a few
years, I couldn’t think of a single game or activity to play with them. I asked them to sing something for me, but
they were way too shy. So, we took a few
“snaps” together instead.
Letting
Go….
For Linda’s last day in Soroti, Joanna and
I accompanied her to the Kapiri, the ancestral village of our friend Charles. It was a bittersweet experience because as
this was my first time to a village, it was Linda’s last. After the bus dropped us, we walked about ten
minutes until we “reached” (as they say in Uganda). His mother, Margaret still lives there. We were shown incredible hospitality by her
and their other relatives. We sipped
sodas under the mango tree before dining al fresco on chicken, beef, rice,
“g-nut” sauce, and atap (Teso “bread” made from millet…it’s more like a paste,
really). Wind gusts from a passing storm forced us into one of the round huts,
which was nice and cool. After the storm
passed, we took our beers and went on a little nature walk toward the
lake. Charles and his mother pointed out
millet, rice, and cassava crops.
It was about 8:30 by the time we made it
back to the road. As there weren’t many taxis or buses at that time of night,
we flagged down a semi hauling fuel. It
was a really steep climb into the cab where we met two very friendly Kenyan
drivers. They had come from Nairobi and
were en route to Juba, South Sudan.
Linda, Jo, and I sat on the seat behind and above them as Charles sat in
between the two Kenyan men. What usually
takes about 30 minutes in a private car, took us an hour in the truck. As I’ve said before, the road has huge
potholes. We laughed as we got bumped
around and as Charles kept trying to take a “snap” of the three of us. He has nicknames for all of us…I’m the
African Queen, Linda is the Professor, and Jo is the President. So, we joked at what an impressive
international gathering we had in the truck.
When he dropped us in town, he honked the horn as he pulled away. At thirty-two, I still get a kick out of
that. Needless to say, hitching a ride
in the truck was SO FUN!!
Yesterday morning, I took Linda a “rolex”
for breakfast so we could hang out before she left. A rolex is a fried egg rolled in a chapatti
that many street vendors sell. Her good
friend and coworker, Betty was also coming over to see her off. I had been hearing about Betty for months, so
I was excited to finally get to meet her.
I asked Linda if I should leave so they could have some privacy as they
say their goodbyes. After all, they had
known each other for over two years.
Linda said it didn’t bother her, but thought that Betty might appreciate
the gesture. But when Betty and her
sister, Kristen arrived, they both hugged me.
After a few minutes of talking, Betty wanted to have a prayer for
Linda. We all held hands and Betty
started singing “Praise Him”. I’m not
incredibly religious, but just being included in that moment coupled with Linda
leaving, I was really moved. As they
prayed for Linda’s safety and gave thanks for their friendship, I had tears
running down my face. For comic relief,
I grabbed a roll of “KFC” toilet paper from the bathroom for wiping our
eyes. That’s right, the KFC, with a picture of Colonel Sanders on the front. I guess the Chinese thought that ripping off
KFC would be lucrative in the African toilet paper market.
And
Moving On…
Living in a developing country forces you
to be resourceful and creative, especially around the house. When I arrived in
my new house after 9:00 pm, I realized that only the kitchen had a light
bulb. I had no other furniture than the
bed. So, I picked up my 130 liter
“Smile” brand refrigerator and moved it into the living room. After saying a little prayer that I didn’t
break my neck, I climbed up on the fridge in the dark and screwed in the light
bulb. Then, I somehow managed to tiptoe
on the rail at the foot of my bed to illuminate the bedroom.
Last night, the power went off. With nothing else to do entertain myself, I
decided to take my first real cold shower.
At the moment, I can’t even boil water for a bucket bath because the one
supermarket in town that actually had gas cans for sale didn’t have the
accompanying hose. Although I took Linda
and Joanna’s advice to buy an electric tea kettle as a backup, that option went
out with the power. I have “club”
candles (which are just short ones that I guess look good on tables in
nightclubs). But of course, I couldn’t
find the Krishna wax matches in the bottomless pit of my rolling duffle bag that
I haven’t unpacked in three months. I
swear that every box of matches in Uganda has a picture of Krishna, (a Hindu
god) as a child on it. So, I wrapped my
headlamp around the door handle of the bathroom. It worked pretty well and the
shower was actually tolerable at the end.
My first two nights in my new house have
also been spent battling cockroaches.
Big ones. Little ones. I’ve probably killed at least 30, mostly in
my kitchen and bathroom. I chase them
around with Doom (Africa’s version of Raid) and my tennis shoes when they
refuse to die quickly. They prefer to party at night. So, last night, I got the song “We Like to
Party” by Beyonce stuck in my head during my killing spree. Now,
if I could just be like Princess Giselle in Enchanted,
and get them to clean by singing,
I would have it made.
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