Outdated, Failing and Redundant (No! Not us!)

At the end of October 2007 we were eulogising about the wonders of our new yellow box. It was a great little piece of technology to get us on to the internet and put us in touch with all you folk. Our lives were transformed – the world was at our fingertips. If we’d had the time, we would have written an ode to the wonderful little yellow box and shared it with you all. At least you were spared that!

In recent weeks, however, we’ve been cursing the terrible plastic yellow thing – a waste of space. It would, tantalisingly, get you on to the internet and just as you were about to do something useful online it would disconnect itself. It felt deliberate, as though The Thing was trying to annoy us. It's interesting to discover just how easy it is to become paranoid.

There we would be, having just started to listen to the omnibus edition of ‘The Archers’ from the BBC, and the nasty yellow object would go offline and refuse to connect again. Or we would just have been ready to send an email (deathless prose that had taken an hour to write) and, again, the nasty yellow box would die.

So the much-lauded technology of yesterday has been declared redundant, and is now superseded by its’ younger brother – the Black Slug.

All this is to say we’re now back on line, and our contributions to the Blog Universe will recommence.

P.S. If we get round to writing ‘An Ode to the Black Slug’ you’ll be the first to know.

Slithering into 2009

New Years Day. 8am. Allan is in the shower. I am making breakfast.

New Years Day is big around here. Its almost bigger than Christmas. We have church services on New Years Day to thank God that we have ‘made it’ into another year without dying or otherwise being attacked by the devil. These are big celebrations. Allan is to preach at the service in our local parish church at 10am. Hence the shower, though he might need another one by the time he has spent two hours or so dressed in clerical robes designed for a cooler climate. Its about 25° already.

I go out of the back door to throw away the coffee grounds from last night – coffee was the tipple during our New Years Eve celebrations, as no alcohol is allowed on the hospital site. But we enjoyed an evening of convivial company with some fellow expatriates nonetheless, and went to bed at a respectable 11pm.

As I throw the coffee grounds on the bare earth, I notice movement – a snake, I thought. Then it registers – A SNAKE! We have seen one before just here, but it slithered away like lightning last time. This time its slithering is decidedly sluggish – nevertheless I retreat to the kitchen and close the netting door. From here I can watch the enemy in safety. Its about 18 ins long, grey and skinny. Its then I notice a large, rather obscene swelling partway down its thin body – it has clearly just swallowed a large meal of frog, maybe, or a small rodent. That would account for the sluggishness. I’ve caught it feeling post-prandial and mellow. Well, maybe not so mellow.

Briefly I consider tackling it alone. All the advice here is to kill snakes immediately on sight. Some are poisonous, some not, but you don’t hang around to find out. Then I decide God gave me a husband for occasions just such as this. While I await Allan’s emergence from the shower – I can’t expect him to tackle the thing naked and wet – I keep an eye on it. We wouldn’t want it to get away again. Its slithering its way, slowly, across the cement outside the back door.
Allan comes out of the shower. ‘There’s a snake outside and we have to kill it’ I greet him. ‘Well, you have to kill it’ - I add – ‘I’ll help.’ What a wonderful fellow I married. We don suitable protective clothing – strong shoes or boots to prevent bites. Allan decides it might be better to put trousers and shirt on too, rather than the dressing gown he was wearing.

We creep out to the store, so as not to announce our presence to the recumbent reptile, and find suitable implements – a rake and hoe are the best we can do. Allan then stands behind the snake, which is still snoozing gently, and brings the rake down on its neck with full force. The snake certainly wakes up, but isn’t killed instantly. It tries to bite the rake, but Allan stands firm. I stand ready with the hoe in case he needs reinforcement, but hoping to be redundant. Eventually he manages to cut off the thing’s head with the rake and hoe combined. That is that.

We throw the two bits of snake onto the vegetable plot (thats a euphemism – not a single vegetable has been known to grow there successfully). There it remains, looking increasingly revolting, until our gardener came the next day and buried it.

But we were very proud of our conquest as a suitably assertive beginning to the new year. None of the snake’s relatives have yet been back to seek revenge. So we trust we will live to thank God for bringing us safely on to the beginning of 2010.

The Big Six-O

One big advantage of living in Uganda is being able to do exotic things on big birthdays. This year took us to Eastern Uganda for my Big Six-0 and to the highest mountains we have yet seen in the country, with Mount Elgon, its highest peak, at 4165 metres. Our destination was Sipi Falls, a modest 1,800 metres above sea level, but high enough to be free of mosquitoes and cool enough to need blankets at night – a real treat.

We were staying at Lacam Lodge, which prides itself in being electricity-free, using gas for cooking and kerosene lamps to light the restaurant and bandas at night. Another feature was the toilets.

Being built on solid rock, digging ‘long-drop’ toilets is impossible, so instead the Lodge provides bucket loos. These look like ordinary toilets, but instead of a flush guests are provided with liberal quantities of sawdust to sprinkle as appropriate. It was ideal, and 100% effective in rendering the toilet odour-free. Every couple of hours one of the staff would enter the toilet via a back door to empty, clean and return the bucket (presumably ensuring the toilet was not in use at the time). This was a job we decided not to apply for, but to show our gratitude, left a healthy tip under the loo seat.

During our stay in Sipi, we were fascinated to be met by several groups of young people jogging and dancing their way along the road, singing, shouting and blowing whistles. We enquired of our local guide, Fred, what this meant and he told us with some pride that they were preparing for circumcision rites. He explained that these usually happen in the month of December in even numbered years. We thought of little babies, but no. Here, in the home of the Bagisu and Sabini tribes, circumcision is carried out on males, generally, between the ages of 16 and 26!

The ritual marks the transition into true manhood and qualifies the initiate to marry and take positions of leadership in the community. Initiates nominate themselves for the ritual in the previous May or June, which apparently gives them time to prepare for the event. I wondered how you could prepare for such an event. Circumcision is performed, with no anaesthetic, in public before family and friends, and even tourists can attend – although these tourists didn’t. Subsequently we noticed a number of young men wearing skirts – they no longer have to prove their manhood. Fred confirmed what we thought, again with great pride. He had been circumcised in his teens. Better to look back on than to look forward to, I thought.

That aside, Sipi Falls is a beautiful spot. There are four main falls, the last and longest of which provides a magnificent setting for Lacam Lodge. From our banda we could both see and hear the long and extraordinarily elegant cascade plunging 100 metres into the river below. It was a glorious view looking down into the valley and the plains beyond, towards the north-west and our home in Arua some 600 km distant.

On my birthday itself Fred took us along the edge of the ridge above the falls, and then steeply down into the valley itself. The slope was precipitous, involving some rather hairy walking/climbing, including an almost vertical ladder down part of the rock face, but it gave us great views of Lacam Lodge across the valley, and then the Falls themselves. As we descended, our daughter, Jo, rang to wish me a happy birthday and I received a birthday text message from friends in Doncaster, UK – a lightly surreal but delightful reminder of home.

At the foot of the Falls, out of the sunshine, it was very wet, muddy, slippery, and a little scary., but as we ascended back out of the valley into the sunshine again, we encountered a girl and young boy. Both were carrying great loads of bananas on their heads from the banana groves growing on the valley side. Being unable to balance anything much on our heads we were much impressed by their amazing ability to scale rock-face ladders with such a burden.

We stopped to talk to them as they, and we, rested on the way. The girl’s name was Emma. “It means ‘God is with us,’” she explained. “Of course, from Emmanuel,” I said, “Jesus’ name.” “You’re a Christian!” she responded with a bright smile, and told us she was a singer in her local church. She then sang us a song about heaven and the truth that if we trust in Jesus we will all be there together one day – ‘every nation, tribe, people and language’.

Our best wishes for a very happy Christmas and joy-filled New Year.

Health care delivery on the edge

Health care in rural Uganda is a million miles away from anything you might imagine if you have been brought up in UK since 1948. Yes, the NHS has plenty of faults and will never have enough resources, but it has an impressive way of swinging into action when anything life-threatening occurs.

Not so in Uganda. There are hospitals, yes, but they rarely have many, if any, doctors in them, and the nursing staff can be hard to find. When you do find them they may not be very quick to respond to patients’ needs, and the care is all done by ‘attendants’ – long-suffering relatives who volunteer to feed, wash, toilet and accompany the patient through 24 hours, sleeping on a mat beside the bed. Such is the tradition of extended family responsibility here.
There is nothing equivalent to a GP, unless you count the private medical practitioners who keep shop in the town and charge high prices for dubious investigations and treatments. And then there are the witchdoctors of course......

But on the ground in the rural areas are the health centres. These small buildings, often in remote locations in the bush, are the mainstay of healthcare for most. Of the five health centres run by the Church of Uganda in this Diocese, none has running water or mains electricity. A small solar panel might run a satellite phone and emergency lighting. Their equipment is old and battered, and they don’t have nearly enough of anything. They are staffed by a couple of nurses, midwives and nursing assistants, with perhaps a laboratory technician, a guard/groundsman and a cleaner. The staff live in at the centre in grass thatched houses like those of the community around. They provide out-patient consultations for everything from malaria to worms, from attempted suicide to HIV testing. They cater for a range of maternal and child health services including deliveries, family planning and immunizations. Some include in-patient facilities, and even those that don’t will put a mattress on the floor to keep a dehydrated cholera case under observation until he or she is well enough to move. None has a doctor or clinical officer.

Visiting Kei health centre for a meeting with staff and community members, I was reminded of the constraints under which they work. Kei is the most remote of the five health centres I help to supervise, but it is also one of the biggest and busiest. It serves an area of rural poverty very close to the Sudan border in the far north of the Diocese, and is reached by a terrible road that is regularly impassable in the rainy season. The health centre, like the region it serves, has seen its share of disturbance in recent years. But at present it is well run by Mary, a nurse In-charge who has a sweet but strong character, and is a very committed Christian.

After the meeting, while we were drinking tea and eating cassava and biscuits, Mary approached me to ask if we could take a seriously ill patient to the nearest government hospital on our way home. There are no ambulances here. She wanted to refer him because he had been an in-patient at Kei for two weeks, was deteriorating, and she felt he needed more specialist care. He has AIDS, and had a serious infection in one leg that was causing much swelling and pain. There were already five of us squashed in a ‘double cabin’ pick-up, which left only the open back of the truck available. But that was what was wanted. The staff and relatives spread blankets on the floor of the pick-up, then lifted the thin, frail man onto the back. One of his sons sat upright against the cab, cradling his father’s head on his lap so that the patient was as comfortable as possible on the rough road. We set off for the 20km journey with five of the family in attendance, together with bedding, cooking pots and personal belongings.

It wasn’t an ambulance journey I would have chosen for myself, but it was the only one available and the family were grateful. We left them at the hospital in Yumbe – the patient might get some medical attention there, eventually, but I doubt he will receive as much care and concern as he did whilst at Kei.

Prayer Mountain

A visit to the Murchison Falls just a week ago saw them at their most dramatic. Now, at the end of the rainy season, the Victoria Nile, wide and languid for much of its course, was full as the white water cascaded towards the narrow cleft in the rocks before plunging 140 feet to the river below and on to Lake Albert. In the brilliant sunshine it was truly awesome with clouds of spray and rainbows in profusion.

That experience was in marked contrast to aggressive and objectionable baboons, one of which decided to leap through the open window of our Land Cruiser whilst we were waiting for the ferry at Paraa. No one was in the car at the time but the intruder was chased out empty handed, and without causing any damage.

Some 10 minutes later, however, we managed to suffer a 3 inch gash in our tyre as a result of a torn piece of metal on the ramp on to the ferry. But even that had its upside as three South African employees of British American Tobacco who were making the same crossing executed an impressive Formula One style wheel change, completing the whole operation in the time it took to cross the river – around 7 minutes! The Parable of the Good Samaritan came to mind!

We had gone to Murchison Park with Emma and Pete, and Laura, British expatriate doctors and a midwife, also living and working at Kuluva Hospital. It was a brief weekend’s break from work, and en route to Murchison Park we decided to visit the Nebbi Prayer Mountain some 20 km beyond the town of the same name. We had heard a great deal about the Prayer Mountain as a place to pray, praise, and find peace and space to gain a renewed and God-centred perspective on life.

The Prayer Mountain is a Retreat Centre built on the Korean pattern and belonging to Nebbi Diocese, Madi/West Nile’s southern neighbour. The foundation stone on the main chapel was laid in 1996 and the whole site was funded and built by a retired Korean Business Executive at a time when the present Archbishop of Uganda, Henry Orombi, was Bishop of Nebbi.

Prayer Mountain is set in a stunningly beautiful countryside, close to the Congo border, and is made up of nine Prayer Points marked by small stone ‘chapels’ located at various places on the mountainside. Each Prayer Point has its own unique and powerfully symbolic design, giving a particular focus which individuals can use to direct their prayer.

The focuses for prayer reflect a global concern, but naturally with a particular emphasis on the needs of Africa. There is also an emphasis on young people, families, and the worldwide need for revival and spiritual renewal. Different arrangements and numbers of windows feature strongly in the design of the small Prayer Points buildings symbolising, amongst other things, the 10 Commandments, the 9 Fruits of the Spirit, the 66 Books of the Bible, the 12 disciples, and so on. Through the windows you can see out to the hills beyond in every direction which gives everything a sense of space, freedom. But the often very strenuous walks between the various Prayer Points prevent any possibility of prayer becoming simply a form of self-indulgence and escapism. Prayer involves work.

On this occasion, ours was simply a fleeting visit; an opportunity to visit somewhere of which we had heard but had never visited. Places to stop and reflect, places to retreat to in order to regroup and move forward again, are few and far between in NW Uganda. Life is full of people and busy-ness, although often not very productive. But even in our brief time at Prayer Mountain we were able to gain some new insights into our work here. Perhaps especially that, whilst living in Uganda, God has not simply called us to work for him with and alongside others. He also wants to work with us and to continue his work of transformation in us.

Murchison Falls has always had the capacity to impress with its power and grandeur, and Prayer Mountain is also about power - the power to transform and change individuals, and so the world. It is just 90 minutes from Kuluva, and God-willing we will return to Prayer Mountain to be empowered for the work God has sent us here to do, and to be transformed a little more ourselves.

Hey Jude.....

We met Jude a couple of months ago. He popped into our office at Mvara one morning, “just to say hello”, but he was also very keen that we should visit him at his school just over the way from our office.

Jude, I guess, is in his early 40s, but quite youthful in appearance and manner, as seems to be the case with many Ugandans. He is a teacher, and by all accounts a good one; indeed, a few years ago he won an award as the Best Teacher in Uganda. Drama and music are passions for him, and over the years he has been responsible for a number of singing and dance groups which have performed at weddings and other events in the area. But his particular specialism is as a teacher of special needs students.

It was about three weeks later that we visited Jude in his classroom/workshop. We met some of his students, one of whom who had no use of his hands, played the odungu with his feet! Unusually for a Ugandan classroom, the walls were adorned with posters, many concerned with health issues, and it was full of all sorts of equipment, much of which looked as though it had come out of the ark. In particular, there were many broken Braille machines. Jude explained they were all second-hand and waiting for him to repair them. He took in other pieces of equipment from other institutions in Arua for repair and used the additional income to supplement his rather small government teacher’s salary.

But there were other things Jude wanted to share with us. Resources for Special Needs Education are as scarce, if not more so, than other resources in Uganda. But Jude is not one to be put off, and with some pride he produced some of his own creations – modifications of the abacus and other calculating machines for use by visually impaired students, and many other ideas to aid the learning and mobility of his students.

One piece he was particularly proud of was a model solar system with an assortment of spherical objects attached at varying distances by wires to a central spindle. These rotated around a light bulb suspended in the middle of them, and representing the Sun. The model was driven by battery power and he used it to teach the principles of planetary motion, seasons, and so on to students with different special educational needs – they are all kept together in one group. It was remarkably inventive and did actually work.

Talking to Jude, he had a real passion for his work and at one time had been employed as a lecturer in SEN at the Teacher Training College next door to the school. Despite having worked there for some time, he was bitterly disappointed when told he could no longer teach there because he didn’t have the required qualifications. If he wanted to teach there again he would have to go and gain further certificates.

Sadly, the educational system here in Uganda, has hardly heard of part-time or distance learning, and the only way you can gain an academic qualification is by becoming a full-time student. This is a very expensive option and taking professionals out of the workplace for a number of years whilst they study – not the best economic option either for the student or the workplace – although I suppose it’s not so bad for the training institution!

Jude clearly hopes we can help him in some way – and he probably deserves help – but so do so many other people here. That’s one of the challenges it’s hard to come to terms with.

Another is, how to make sense of the fact that since Jude lost his job at the Teacher Training College, they now have no one to teach about Special Educational Needs.

A Week In The Life Of......... (Part 2)

True to his word, during the Sunday I spent in Omoo (see A week in the life of.....) Robert planned with me a programme for my week ‘shadowing’ him in his work. He was concerned that I should be able to visit each of the eight churches in Mingoro Parish and get to know something about the challenges they face.

Robert and his family face their own personal challenges. He is married to a teacher and was ordained just three years ago. They have two sons, the eldest of whom (7-year old Godwin) has been diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. This would be hard for any family, but for Robert it also involves travelling 500 km to Kampala for treatment and a significant bill once he gets there. On top of the 25,000 UGX fare to get to Kampala, he has been told the treatment will cost around 1,200,000 UGX. Robert gets paid just 50,000 UGX per month (c.£16), but earns some more by growing onions, ground nuts and cassava. It’s a hard life for him, not least because this means he often starts the day at 6.00 am with 3 hours of digging. But he remains amazingly cheerful and leads a busy life running a large parish of eight churches.

One major issue in Uganda is the issue of land rights. In a country where most of the title to land is hereditary and not formally established, land without title deeds can be very vulnerable. This applies as much to churches as to private individuals and several of the churches in Robert’s care have neighbours who are trying to encroach on their land. One church I visited has a major project growing thousands of eucalyptus tree seedlings which they will eventually plant out as boundary markers.

This project has a further benefit as well. Eucalyptus trees are very fast growing, and the timber will in a short time provide a good source of income for the church. Some of the churches in Robert’s parish are also growing other ideas to develop the local community or generate some badly needed income. These include building technical schools, dispensaries, or establishing bee and honey projects. It’s a far cry from parish life in Britain.

Of course day-to-day parish life also continues amidst these other activities. Coming from Britain I have been used to being able to manage my diary. Weddings, for example, are arranged often years ahead. But in particular it is unusual not to have several days’ notice of a funeral. Here, however, things are very different.

The Tuesday programme for my visit to Mingoro Parish had read: Visit of Church of Uganda Kubo – Visitation of the sick Kerekere. Robert had warned me on Monday that the programme would have to be extended because a 12-year old girl had died and her funeral had been arranged for Tuesday afternoon. Arriving at Omoo on Tuesday morning, however, I discovered that a man had died there suddenly on Monday evening, and his funeral was also taking place on Tuesday afternoon – well within 24 hours of the death (and without the body ever having been seen by a doctor).

Robert was very glad to have me around that day because my car would make his life a whole lot easier than having to travel the heavily rutted roads on his bicycle. We travelled first to Kubo to visit the church to collect a Church Teacher and to have a meal. It was there I discovered I had a flat tyre and had to change the wheel in the rain – with a number of fascinated spectators who had never seen anything like this before. We then proceeded to Kerekere for a sick communion (followed by a small meal), before driving to a village some distance away for the first funeral (preceded by a meal of enya and beans, and concluded by a similar meal), before finally returning to Omoo for the second funeral (also accompanied by food).

These were the first funerals I had attended, and sadly I forgot to take my camera. I had been assured there would be no problem taking photographs. But at least I was able to concentrate on what was going on – the open coffin for the young girl (no coffin at all for the man), the relatives speaking about the deceased, the sermon, the procession to the graveside in the village near the home of the deceased, the burial and the scattering of petals. I declined Robert’s offer the day before that I should preach at the girl’s funeral, but this didn’t stop him asking me to say a few words at each of the funerals, and to pray for the deceased man’s wives and family at the second.

I left Omoo as darkness was falling.

My week with Robert was interrupted and we weren’t able to complete all Robert had planned. But it was concluded by a very joyful wedding at Olevu Parish accompanied by two udungu bands and children’s choirs. I was able to take a full part in the service and even able to eat the meal preceding it. Unfortunately I had a chest infection for most of the week but was able to use this as a good reason to avoid the second meal of enya, meat, rice, beans and cabbage.

PS. Two days ago Robert appeared at my office in Mvara. Three of the churches in his parish had complained. Because of the interrupted programme I hadn’t been to visit them. Robert is going to Kampala next week but when he returns we will resume where we left off. I look forward to that and think that Mingoro Parish, its Pastor and Church Teachers will be a useful place to develop some of my ideas about ministry in the future.