Photo of Fred (from last interview)

                                                

 

Stop Malaria Project Interview: Fred Akol

As part of BAMM (Blog About Malaria Month) I will be featuring brief interviews with my coworkers at Stop Malaria Project (SMP) and Malaria Consortium (MC) in the Soroti office. Photos to come later!

Fred Akol

A: Where are you from?

F: Soroti District

A: What did you study?

F: Social Sciences for Bachelors’ degree, Public Health for Master’s degree, and a diploma in Project Planning and Management.

A: Where have you worked before SMP/MC?

F: AMREF (African Medical and Research Foundation) as a project officer for HIV/AIDS, TB, and Malaria. Before that, the Landmine Awareness Trust in Soroti.

A: Why did you want to work for SMP/MC?

F: I saw the activities for fighting malaria which is the main killer disease for the region and country.  Secondly, it takes me deep in the community. 

A: What drew you to work in public health?

F: I love working with communities and health is a big issue in communities.  People need to be supported on issues of health and public health. I like the practical work, being active within communities, and being able to interact with real people.

A: What do you like most about your job?

F: Exposure to different stakeholders in different offices and being open to learning on the job.

A: What do you think is the biggest challenge in malaria eradication?

F: People’s attitudes towards prevention methods.

A: What do you think could be improved in the malaria eradication campaign?

F: Methods for prevention; promote IRS- it's expensive, but it’s the best.

A: After SMP ends, what would you like to do?

F: I will still work with public health partners which are still in health field because I feel I need to do much of the same thing.

The Real Malaria

Last night I was watching a clip of the documentary about the book Guns, Germs, and Steel, which follows the author, Jared Diamond, around the world in his quest to discover how such huge inequalities emerged between the developing and the developed world. In other words, why are some countries so rich and others so poor?  While in Zambia, one of the poorest countries in the world, with an average life expectancy of 35, he visited a hospital and talked to a health worker about the burden of malaria there.  Dozens of children were lying in beds in one ward, one of which barely had her eyes open, unblinking.  Then, the camera panned to Mr. Diamond, who had to cover his face because he started crying.  He said, “There’s a difference between understanding something intellectually and experiencing it firsthand.” I immediately teared up, not just from seeing this older, world-renowned author becoming so upset about a problem that is so far removed from most of us, but also because I had an almost identical experience about six weeks ago. 

In late February, I spent a few days in neighboring Amuria district to help out with Integrated Support Supervision (ISS).  During ISS, we visit a range of health facilities to get data related to malaria.  On our second day, we visited St. Clare Health Center III.  In Uganda, there are four levels of health facilities, with one being the lowest, according to size and services offered.  Although St. Clare was a level III health center, it operated like a level IV, according to Ann, a local nurse, who was helping us with ISS.  St. Clare is a private hospital funded by the Catholic Church, and has a few mzungus or foreigners working there. Amuria is less developed than Soroti, and here “in the middle of nowhere” (not my words, but those of our driver, Ronald) on a small hill was a pretty impressive facility on a beautiful campus.  Besides the hospital, church, and school, there weren’t even huts around this area.  It was nothing but trees and scrubby bushes as far as the eye could see.  

My part of the ISS was to get data from the Antenatal Clinic (ANC).  To get to the ANC, I had to pass through the children’s ward.  As I was waiting in the hall outside the ANC office, Ann came in telling one of the nurses that a child had a very high fever and needed immediate attention.  I could see several people huddled around one of the beds.  Curiosity got the better of me, and I went over to see what was happening.   

It was a four year-old girl who was naked, with her eyes closed, arms bent and fists clenched near her face. She kept making an involuntary whimpering sound over and over.  This sound still haunts me.  Ann said that her malaria test result was a 3+, which means she had an extremely high density of malaria parasites in her blood.  This, combined with a fever of 104 and convulsions, led to a diagnosis of severe malaria.  Ann instructed the nurses to give her an I.V. (of what I can’t remember, but should know) to bring the down fever.  They also kept crushing up some pills and gently sprinkling it in her mouth.  Besides the fact that a little girl was in so much pain from a completely preventable disease in such an efficient hospital, so much seemed wrong; the colorful, cheerful paintings of biblical scenes on the walls, nets on every bed (which is rare in most health facilities), and the fact that I felt helpless and ashamed that I wasn’t doing enough.  All of this was just too much for me, and I had to leave the ward with tears in my eyes.  

It’s like Jared Diamond said, intellectual understanding can’t make you ready for first-hand experience. No matter how many case studies I read in grad school, days of training and workshops I’ve completed here, none of it could have emotionally prepared me for seeing malaria up close and personal.  When I came back later, Ann was still with the little girl.  Her fever had come down, and her body looked a little more relaxed.  I’m not very religious, but I believe in prayer.  So, I said a prayer for the girl and her family.  She was still alive when we left St. Clare later that afternoon and I can only hope and pray she is still alive today.     

To be honest, I can barely get through writing this without crying.  Look, I know there are countless sad stories out there about sick kids in Africa, but I still feel compelled to share mine.  We’ve all seen the stereotypical images on TV commercials or the news.  I’m not trying to be trite, pull at your heart strings or make you feel guilty.  But this problem is real.  It doesn’t go away when the commercial ends or after I leave Uganda.  It won’t go away without a lot of sacrifices of our time, efforts, and yes, money.   I know that my one year service here isn’t enough to make a huge impact and at times I should have taken a lot more initiative.   But, if by reading this story, you start paying more attention to malaria and hopefully help raise awareness about it (or development or global health) then at least I’ve made a small dent in this gargantuan epidemic.  You can start by sharing this blog entry with your friends, family, colleagues, or students.  Changing your cover or profile photo on facebook to one of our Stomping Out Malaria images (found on my facebook page) for the month of April is also a simple, easy step to help our movement gain momentum leading up to World Malaria Day on April 25th.  Thank you.

When I was a history major at Western Kentucky University, Jared Diamond’s book was discussed and lauded by several of my professors.  He actually came to speak at WKU, but for some reason, I didn’t go to his lecture and I’ve always regretted it.  Now that I’ve seen how emotionally invested he is in development, Guns, Germs, and Steel will quickly move up my reading list.  After all, he inspired me to finally share this experience. 

   

The Bluegrass and the Pearl

For nine days in December, I was lucky enough to have my mother come visit me in Uganda. Queen Elizabeth National Park in the southwest and Murchison Falls National Park in the northwest were the highlights of our tour around the “Pearl of Africa”.  It’s rumored that it was Winston Churchill who first gave Uganda this moniker.  Whoever said it got it right.     

Our first destination was Queen Elizabeth in the southwest. As we wound our way through Bushenyi, I couldn’t stop taking photos. I kept clumsily leaning over Mom or steadying the camera out of my own window to capture the landscape that so was vastly different from the plains of Eastern Uganda. We were trying to reach Mweya Lodge before dark with enough time for an evening game drive, so we only made one or two quick photo stops.  Paths crisscrossed the hills blanketed by tea bushes that glowed almost fluorescent green in the late afternoon sun. Huge leaves of banana and matooke trees leaves dotted the mountains just before we passed an alpine lake.  I was in awe.  But it couldn’t prepare me for what was just around the bend.

After rounding a curve, we were suddenly overlooking an endless plain.  As far as the eye could see, it was nothing but acacia trees covering the savanna.  It was magnificent.  The waters of Lakes George and Edward were silver on the horizon.  Although it’s cliché, I couldn’t help but think “Wow! This is just like what I’ve seen in the movies. Only this is better because it’s real life!”  After stopping for a few minutes to take it all in, we descended through hairpin turns and finally entered the park.  I was glad that I had sunglasses on because I had tears in my eyes.  Seeing the acacia trees and tall grasses at ground level was just as breathtaking.

With the Kazinga Channel to our left, cactus trees flanked the road between the gate and the lodge.  Within five or ten minutes, we were lucky enough to spot a family of elephants less than 50 feet from our van.  As I was taking pictures, the mother elephant looked right at us, fanned out her ears, and took a few steps in our direction.  Mom got concerned and said “Umm, I think she’s coming over here. She doesn’t look too happy.” A few minutes later we climbed up the peninsula to Mweya Lodge just as the sun was setting behind pink and orange clouds.  Everything I had seen in the past hour seemed too good to be true. 

The next morning we set off for a game drive before the sun came up. The convertible top on our van was raised so we could stand up to have a better view.  We were lucky enough to have a wildlife guide accompany us.  The first animal we saw was a “loser” male water buffalo that had lost a fight with a younger male, and as a result, was pushed out of the herd.  Throughout the morning the guide kept calling out “loser”! Uganda cobs, which are similar to gazelles or impalas, were all over the savanna.  But I never got tired of seeing them.  Water bucks paused by the side of the road as we passed.  We stopped at a village next to the lake where hippos were dangerously close to the shore, but the locals paid them no attention.  Cattle, goats, and marabou storks wandered around the mud and trash.  On the way back, I spotted three large birds in front of some old abandoned buildings.  When the guide told me they were crested cranes, I said, “Oh my god”! I had wanted to see the elusive national birds as soon as I saw photos of them on the internet back in June before I left the States.  Abby, our driver, slowly went towards them so I could get some pictures. I can’t believe that I’ve turned into a birdwatcher like my Mom and brother, Eric!  Trust me; I’ve fought this aspect of my genes for years.   

That afternoon after lunch, we saw some warthogs hanging around outside the lodge in the rain.  I seriously couldn’t help but think of the character from the Lion King.  With about six European tourists, we boarded a small pontoon to cruise the Kazinga Channel, which connect Lakes Edward and George.  Directly across from the launch site, we saw elephants, hippos, and a crocodile slip into the water.  Most of the time was spent hovering close to the tree-lined banks to see birds: eagles, pelicans, herons, storks, cranes, ibises, and kingfishers.  Ah, the kingfishers!  The black and white pied kingfisher would flutter high above the open water before quickly swooping in to catch fish.  But the most spectacular bird we were lucky enough to see was the malachite kingfisher.  Slightly larger than a hummingbird, it had a purple body and a neon orange beak.  It was during our pursuit of the malachite that I started to feel some serious camera envy.  Some of the guys on our boat had huge lenses.  Although my six year-old Sony Cybershot takes great pictures, I will have to zoom in about a million times on Instagram to be able to identify a lot of the wildlife. Upon spotting a “loser” water buffalo, Mom said one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard her say.  “So his new job is modeling?  He just stands there and lets us take pictures of him”.  As we drew closer to the end of the channel, some young elephants were jousting in the water.  It was incredible to see them splash around with their trunks and tusks raised up at each other.

On our last day in Queen Elizabeth, we were scheduled to go chimpanzee trekking. After driving on the paved road for about ten minutes, we turned off onto a muddy road towards the top of Kyambura Gorge.  The gorge, which is only 1 km across, 100 meters deep, and 8 km long, is almost a completely different ecosystem.  It’s basically a rainforest in the middle of the savanna. 

There were six other foreign tourists going on the hike with us. Our guide was a woman named Petra, who told us that we would be trekking a community of 20 chimpanzees, but couldn’t guarantee that we would see any.   She also explained that occasionally they see lions near the river at the bottom of the gorge.  Petra warned us, “If we do see one, just move on and act like we didn’t see it.  Don’t take pictures or it may charge.  But don’t worry.  That is why Albert (the other Uganda Wildlife Authority ranger) has a rifle”.  Great.  I’ve wanted to see a lion my whole life, and now if I do, I can’t even look it or take a picture and it might get shot?!  It had been raining heavily that morning and the top of the trail was steep and slippery.  Mom decided to stay behind and do some bird watching with our driver. She even got to see some black and white colobus monkeys.

After about five minutes, the trail leveled off at the bottom of the gorge.  We could hear hippos snorting and spotted one at a wider part of the river.  Petra kept looking for and pointing out animal prints and poop on the trail. Specifically, she was looking for the knuckle prints of the chimpanzees.  Even though we didn’t get to see a hyena, it was pretty cool to see its tracks.  We got to see a few olive baboons (through binoculars) pretty high up in the trees.

Eventually we reached a boardwalk that stretched across the river where we stopped there to look at a tree on the other side.  Wouldn’t you know it, there was a chimp sleeping! Now, at this point, I felt pretty satisfied that I even got to see one.  Petra told us in the beginning that it’s only luck if we get to see any chimps at all.  She also apologized to us in advance that we might have to cross water because of the heavy rains.  To reach the boardwalk, we would all have to take 3-4 steps through the river.  All I could think about was getting schistosomiasis. I was wearing my Earth tennis shoes that I had worn barely twenty times since I bought them in May.  I knew I should have packed my gum boots! But I didn’t want to miss anything, so like everyone else, I got my feet wet, literally and figuratively. I thought our wading was over at the end of the boardwalk, which was only about 30 feet long.  But then we were knee deep in what looked like a mangrove.  We saw another chimp that was really high up, but it was difficult to see through binoculars in the thick, dark forest canopy.  As it started to rain, Petra decided we should go back as our chances for seeing more chimps were getting slimmer.  I realized how unprepared I was when everyone else was wearing rain ponchos as I fumbled around with my plaid umbrella in the middle of the rainforest.  After we regrouped on the other side, Petra was telling us more about the life of chimps.  Then, we heard some of the females make a distress call.  Upon hearing this, Brutus, the alpha male swung down out of that first tree, just like a scene out of Tarzan.  I still can’t believe I got to see something so rare.  Not being able to top that, we made our way back up to the top of the gorge. 

Mom got to see the more “human” side of Uganda in transit between the parks. After spending one night in Fort Portal, we had an eight hour trip over dirt roads to Murchison Falls.  The scenery was beautiful.  A few hours into the drive, we saw a group of kids playing and bathing near a pool of water beside the road.  One boy had his back to us and it looked like he was doing a little dance.  Both of these are pretty common sights here.  When he turned toward us, we saw that his pants were down.  But he kept dancing for us despite his lack of underwear.  Mom and I just died laughing.  A few days later, after we left Murchison Falls, we passed through a small town at about 10:30 am.  We noticed there was a man lying in the road behind a parked bus.  Then, as we got closer, we noticed he had a beer in his hand that had spilled all around him.  Another man dragged him across the road, and when they got to the other side he slapped him across the face!  But the drunk guy just smiled and laughed at him.  I don’t know if we were more disturbed or amused.  But again, we couldn’t help but laugh.

Late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, we arrived at Murchison Falls.  But first we had to cross the Nile River on a ferry.  I’ve crossed the Nile at least ten times on the Owen Falls Dam in Jinja (which I still marvel at), but to be standing just a few feet from it was something else.  A lone elephant stood on the opposite bank and a hippo bobbed in the water not far from the ferry.  After waiting about 30 minutes, about 10 cars tried to outmaneuver each other onto the ferry, resulting in a minor fender bender. I noticed an older gentlemen standing around a vehicle with his family.  A few days later our driver told us that it was Sudir, an Indian who is one of the wealthiest men in East Africa.  He owns Crane Bank, Munyonyo Resort, and several buildings in Kampala. 

On Christmas morning, we sat off on another game drive before dawn.  I thought that the landscape of Queen Elizabeth would be hard to match. But the rolling hills and winding roads of the savanna in Murchison Falls were just as, if not more beautiful.  We were really able to see all the colors of the sunrise as oribis (small gazelles), Uganda cobs, and Jackson’s Hartbeests peeked through the grasses on both sides of the road.  I really became fascinated by Jackson’s Hartebeest, which are only found in Uganda. They are like a hybrid between a deer and a wildbeest, with long, odd faces, graceful bodies, and slender horns.

We wound our way through a small but picturesque grove of acacia trees and saw a few random giraffes which was pretty exciting.  As it got lighter, we arrived near the banks of the Albert Nile where we saw water bucks and several different birds.  We kept seeing the odd giraffe here and there until we saw several cars parked on the road.  There were about 25 giraffes near a watering hole.  It was surreal.  Mom said it looked the wind was pushing their necks in the same direction.  There was one who was alone on top of the ridge and rays of light streaked behind his silouhette.  I thought “Come on! This can’t be real!”.   

For those who don’t know me well, I’m a cat lover.  This includes big cats.  At the prospect of seeing lions for the past few months I was anticipating a lot of emotions for the moment when I actually got to see one.  Honestly, I thought I would cry the same way that Kristen Bell did when her husband surprised her with a sloth.  Look it up on YouTube.  It’s hilarious.  But I have to say that the giraffes topped the lions.  Near the end of our game drive, we again saw several cars stopped.  There were two elephants munching on some shrubs.  But then I noticed two beige dots at the edge of the thicket.  I suspected they were lions and when Abby confirmed it for me, I grabbed the binoculars.  I could feel a grin of satisfaction spread across my face at seeing the two females stretched out next to each other.  Between the elephants and the lions were a few Jackson’s Hartebeests grazing.  Again, I thought “Seriously?!  Are you all working for a postcard company?!”       

After returning to the lodge for lunch, and some lounging around the pool, we boarded a double-decker boat named the “African Queen” for a Nile River cruise.  One of the most interesting things we saw were tiny holes in the side of a cliff that served as homes for beecatchers.  The tiny birds shone iridescent green with hints of red as the flew around the tan cliff, resting on tree branches.  As we got closer to Murchison Falls, we spotted some black and white colobus monkeys. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to get close to the falls because the river became shallow and rocky.  Murchison Falls is supposed to be the most powerful waterfall in the world, which was still incredible from a distance.  As we headed back towards the lodge Mom and I split a Nile Special beer, which has become my favorite here in Uganda. 

That night, all of the tables were placed outside around the pool for dinner.  After getting properly stuffed, we were treated to a performance by Acholi traditional dancers.  The Acholi are one of the larger tribes in Northern Uganda.  The men sported white feather headresses.  The women performed one dance where they placed small red pots on their heads on certain drum beats.  I don’t’ know if I’ll ever have a more memorable Christmas. 

The next morning we left Para Lodge to make our way to Soroti.  Instead of turning left towards the Nile, we turned right to make our way out of the Northeastern gate of the park.  Only meeting about five other vehicles, it felt like we had this whole area of the park to ourselves, which felt kind of magical.   Palm trees were everywhere, a stark contrast against the golden savanna.  Abby told us that elephants brought the palm trees as they migrated down from Ethiopia.  We were lucky enough to see elephants, Jackson’s Hartebeests, black hornbills, and giraffes one last time .  It still blows my my mind that I got to see all those animals on the same day that we arrived in Soroti.   

     

After spending two nights in Soroti, we spent the afternoon in Jinja, where we took a boat ride to the source of the Nile River.  The next morning we took Mom to the airport at 2:30 a.m..  I took two busses back to Soroti, one of which almost tipped over in a ditch.  I won’t go into the details, but it’s the most scared I’ve been travelling here. It was a a really bizarre ending to such a wonderful trip where we only had a few minor glitches. TIA!   

I just have to acknowledge how incredibly grateful I am to have a mother who was willing to spend almost 48 hours on a plane to spend only eight days with me.  She has a sense of curiosity, adventure, and humor that transcends any age. I can only hope that I will be half as extraordinary as her as I get older.  We have travelled in Europe, Asia, and Africa together.  I can’t wait to see where life will take us next…

  

Push, Pull, or Shove

         In the last week of November, I covered a lot of ground in only six days. Zipping between Central and Eastern Uganda brought its share of adventures.    

         My trip to Kampala started at 4:44 a.m. on a Sunday.  A friend of mine had spent a few days at my place and had to get up early to start his journey home. I left my house at 6:30 and got on a white Galaxy bus headed to Kampala at 7:00. After hearing from other Volunteers in my area that Sunday was a bad day to travel, I was ecstatic at my good fortune of actually being able to snag a bus that early, and of the possibility of reaching Kampala at a decent hour.  Silly girl!  We didn’t actually leave town until almost 8:30.  After stopping a few times, we reached the Mbale bus park.  I was relieved to be able to make a “short call” (a quick pee) in a pay bathroom.  (It was a step up from most short calls on long bus rides. The bus pulls over on the side of the road while everyone scatters behind bushes.  I tend to follow the teenage girls who must be as self-conscious as me and know the best way to conceal themselves.  Most of the time, I try to dehydrate for these trips. )  We must have waited close to an hour sweating our asses off before we pulled out of the bus park.  Even then, we stopped right outside to pick up another passenger even though all the seats were full.  The other passengers were pissed.  They started yelling at the conductor that they didn’t have any more time to waste.  After making our second stop for fuel, we finally rolled down the highway to Kampala. 

         Just as we approached the bridge to cross the Nile River in Jinja, the police stopped us.  The bus pulled onto a side road as the conductor got off to show the police officers some papers.  After about ten minutes, everyone got off the bus to seek shade under a billboard.  The conductor was making phone calls while the police just laughed at him.  Eventually, he rode off on a motorcycle boda-boda with one of the officers following in a station wagon.  A woman told me that our bus was only licensed to travel between Mbale and Kampala, but not to Soroti.  She was trying to compare it to how planes have to register their flight plans.  All I could think was “WHO CARES?!”  This isn’t the FAA.  We weren’t smuggling drugs or arms.  We weren’t even crossing any international borders.  This was one of those rare occasions where I would have actually supported corruption.  I was very tempted to just yell out, “Someone just bribe him with a few thousand shillings so we can get the hell out of here!” As I watched trucks from Kenya pass by, I resisted the urge to hitch hike with them.  I kept hoping a USAID or Peace Corps vehicle would pass so I could flag it down and beg them for a ride or that some other muzungu (foreigner) would take pity on me.   Instead, I took the opportunity to make another short call.  As I walked up the hill, I noticed that other people had the same idea.  On both sides of the road were steep concrete ditches where one man was squatting to relieve himself.  At least he had the class to try to conceal himself, unlike most men who just turn their back to the road.  I made my way to an abandoned set of water tanks.  As I made my way to the back of one of the massive tanks, a few other women were squatting behind cinder block walls. 

         We were finally allowed to leave, only for our bus to run out of fuel an hour outside of Kampala.  When I heard this, I just started laughing.  I’d had enough adventures on the Galaxy for one day.  So, I joined about ten other passengers when a taxi (minivan that carries about 20 people) pulled over.  When the driver offered me the front seat (the Queen Seat as Linda and Joanna call it) I jumped at the chance, thinking my luck had finally turned. Just as we were getting ready to leave, a man with a STIHL weed eater said if I was going to sit in the Queen seat I would have to hold his “stick” so it could go through the window (it wouldn’t fit anywhere else in the taxi).  Having visions of the weed eater being stolen out of my hands or it hitting something and shattering into a million pieces, I relinquished the Queen Seat to him. Instead, I sat between him and the driver.  Every time the driver shifted gears, he hit my leg.

         I cranked up The Killers on my iPod to drown out the radio broadcast of some football match. It’s amazing how much of an impact music can make on your attitude while you’re travelling.  You can go from “I hate my life. Why does this always happen to me?” to “This is such a fun adventure! I am the master of African transportation” in just a few seconds.  Unfortunately, that high only lasted a few songs before we pulled over in Seeta (on the outskirts of Kampala) to pick up a few more passengers.  While we were stopped, the driver started arguing with two men who were trying to exact a taxi park fee from him.  After about ten minutes, they exchanged phone numbers and we were on our way.  As the Galaxy bus passed us, I regretted getting in that taxi.  At our next stop, some man with crazy eyes came out of nowhere and tried to grab the keys out of the ignition.  My first thought was “Shit! I’m trapped between a weed eater and a fight.”  Luckily, the driver showing the crazy man his phone somehow stopped the argument.  I can only assume that it was related to the previous one.  I finally got to my hotel at 6:30, twelve hours after I left my house. 

         My trip home to Soroti on Tuesday was relatively smooth.  But the next morning, I was off again to Katakwi for two nights to help some district health workers carry out Integrated Support Supervision. East of Soroti, Katakwi borders Karamoja (which borders Kenya), which might be one of the least developed areas in Uganda.  Kadeppo National Park in the northern part of the district is supposedly one of the most pristine and beautiful parks in the country.  Peace Corps forbids us to travel to Karamoja as people are often killed during cattle raids.  There are many stereotypes about the Karamajong people including how they like to fight and walk around naked (but not at the same time, I hope). If Karamoja is the wild west of Uganda, then Katakwi is its slightly tamer neighbor. 

         It takes about an hour and a half to reach Katawki muncipality from Soroti.  The road between Soroti and Moroto (in Karamoja) is notorious for being the worst road in Uganda.  Articles about the state of the road often appear in the national papers accompanied by pictures of busses stuck in the mud.  Luckily, a private car took me to Katakwi.  The road there was dusty and rough, but nothing like what we would face the next day. 

          Thursday morning six of us piled into a station wagon and headed out.  On our way to the first health center, we saw a few men rolling huge concrete pipes along the narrow dirt road. They were constructing culverts.  We all got out of the car to see that two huge drop-offs stood between us and our next stop.  Our car was too wide to make it across and we couldn’t go around because we were surrounded by a swamp.  But, they filled one hole with huge rocks and our station wagon miraculously made it across.   

         Not long after that, our car got stuck in a huge puddle.  This time, I thought “well, this is it. I’m going to have to spend the night here and no one will even know where I am.” For those three days, I didn’t have phone coverage as there was no Orange network in Katakwi.  But, an Orange tower was being constructed.  I hadn’t even informed Peace Corps that I would be in Katakwi.  So if something happened, I wouldn’t even be able to reach them on my phone.  Two of the women walked to the nearby village to get help because they knew many people there.  They had to resort to pushing it out of the puddle.  My vanity (if I was going to have to sleep in those same clothes and wear them a second day I might as well try to keep them clean) prevented me from helping until the very end when I knew I wouldn’t get mud sprayed on me. Just as the car got out, about five men showed up to help us, which was reassuring that we wouldn’t have been totally deserted.

         After we stopped for some “bites”, the road got even more isolated as we drove through the rain.  But the scenery was beautiful as we moved towards Mt. Motoro (in Karamoja).   On clear days, I can see Mt. Moroto from Soroti, so I was really happy to finally see it close up. But then we reached what looked like the worst spot on the worst road in the entire country.  There was no way that little station wagon (without four wheel drive) was going to make it through the muddy pit.  I thought we were going to have to turn around and return to town.  Tree branches were scattered around from previous drivers trying to gain traction.  We all got out and walked ahead to get out his way.  Somehow, he had less trouble getting through it than the last one.

         Our next health center to visit was at SOFAD (School of Artillery and Defense), a military base near the border of Karamoja.  Get this - it’s an area called Bagdad.  As we got closer to the small town just before SOFAD, strange noises were coming from one of the wheels.  We managed to pull into another smaller health center so the driver could try to repair it.  At that point, I just accepted that I would actually be spending the night there.  A few people told us that we could walk the rest of the way, so we took off on foot.  As I was walking towards Mt. Moroto in the most remote place I had been to in Uganda, I had a “Whoa, I really live in Africa” moment.  Very few cars were passing by.  After five minutes, we flagged down a small white Isuzu pickup truck, and the driver gave us agreed to give us a lift.  The five of us climbed into the bed of the truck and I sat on two old tires.  After about a five minute ride, we were dropped off at the road leading to SOFAD.  It was actually pretty fun.

         The “gate” to the base was made of tree branches and controlled by two soldiers.  We were directed to a small building where we waited for the commander in an office where the windows were filled with mud and sticks.  As we walked to the health center, I noticed about one hundred small straw tents on the ground.  At first I thought they were for animals.  But when I asked someone what they were, I was shocked to learn that the soldiers slept in them.  The commander told us earlier that this location was temporary for the base and that huts for the soldiers would soon be constructed. 

         The health center, which also serves the civilian community, was one of the most depilated structures I had ever seen.  It was a small building with holes in the roof and wasp nests.  But the soldiers and staff couldn’t have been nicer or more hospitable.  A few of us settled in on the front porch to get data from their registers.  In the distance the sunlight was hitting a rock structure so perfectly that I had to resist the urge to run towards it with my camera.  It looked like something in Monument Valley, Utah. As the wind picked up and the temperature dropped, I moved inside to avoid the impending rain.  After a few minutes, it really started pouring.  Bed-ridden patients were wheeled to the center of the room away from the windows.  Water started seeping in and forced everyone towards the interior of the building.  After I found a dry spot, more people started crowding in and I found myself in an old bathroom waiting out the storm with a few female soldiers.  Once the rain let up, I sat on two cheap green plastic chairs (they had to be stacked on each other to support me because both had huge cracks in them) in the interior with one of the health workers who used a flashlight to help me read the register.

         After we finished our work and made our way back to the entrance, Sapphire came to our rescue. Sapphire is the name I gave to Fred’s blue Toyota Hilux four-wheel drive truck. Sometimes a man named Abdallah drove Sapphire when we needed an extra vehicle in the field. I had never been so happy to see her.  Besides Abdallah, six of us crowded into Sapphire.  It was almost 7:00, and dark by the time we left the base.  After a few minutes, we saw an old woman (an amojong in Ateso) walking towards us on the road.  Her hands were up and she was saying something.  At first, I thought she was trying to get a ride from us (as I had seen this gesture from younger women before trying to get a ride).  But then someone said, “Look at that drunk amojong!” She wasn’t trying to flag us down; she was just talking to herself.  Not long after that, we saw a woman getting a little wobbly on her bike.  She slowly fell over, looked back at us and grinned.  We all died laughing.  Someone said “That’s the problem with drinking.  I said “you think she was drunk?” to which they replied “she definitely tasted something!” 

         My experiences are pretty typical of travelling in Africa.  It was more inconvenience than anything else.  Honestly, I wouldn’t trade any of these experiences for anything in the world.  After all, it’s what makes such great stories.  Some people have much worse tales.  A few weeks ago, my coworker, Ruth walked into the office and started wiping her face with tissues.  A baby had thrown up on her during a short taxi ride from Kumi.  

         Tomorrow I head to Kampala for the third time in three weeks to meet Mom at Entebbe Airport.  Instead of subjecting her to public transportation, we are splurging on a private tour company to drive us to some of the national parks and Soroti.  But I’m sure our trip won’t be without a few hiccups.  Stay tuned!