Hello Family,
Now that we are back safe and sound and have a reliable internet connection again, I thought I would take a stab at telling you all what when down in Uganda. Get ready; it isn't pretty.
Let me begin by saying that a missionary trip is nothing like a vacation. In fact, at many points during our stay one of the four of us would adamantly declare that never again in our life would we come back to this godforsaken country. When it was me making said declaration, I decorated my speech with a few more swear words. We are not all missionaries, I know this now from experience and accept it without the shame and guilt that I think at times we all felt for not loving the work we were doing. Let me tell you what it was like:
First, we would wake early and eat a not-so-good breakfast (which eventually turned into watermelon only for me because I was sick for about 5 days). The first night in Uganda the group of about 30 doctors, PAs, nurses, and volunteers was divided into three teams: the surgical team which would perform operations at Kanginima hospital (about 25 minutes outside of Mbale, the city in which we stayed), and two outreach teams which would drive out to new locations each day, set up in a local church or school, and attempt to help the roughly 500+ people that would show up each day to be seen by the doctor and given medicine at the makeshift pharmacy. Jordan, Camden, and I were "floaters"--because we were shooting the doc we would be allowed to alternate teams to film all aspects of the mission. Jordan and Camden worked together mostly and I would join whichever team they weren't with.
The O.R. team (surgical team) was my favorite. We worked in a hospital set up by Dr. Patrick, the Ugandan doctor who works directly with Mercy Trips, organizes things (his wife really does this part), and who was our link to the Ugandan people. The hospital was nothing like an American one--overcrowded, understaffed and undersupplied, un-air conditioned, and the operating rooms suffered from roach and gecko infestations and the undereducated surgical techs and anesthesiologist made me sure that I would take my chances with a sincere prayer, a sharp stick and a few band aids before I would ever let that group perform on operation on me. The surgical team was made up of many funny characters, however, and I enjoyed hanging around them. I spent three days at Kanginima and witnessed two successful c-sections, a goiter operation on a thyroid, two hysterectomies, and an operation on a little boy's penis that went very smoothly. I think, though, that the real success of the surgical team was that they taught and advised the undereducated staff with patience, encouraging words, and a palpable sense of urgency because of the limited amount of time we had there.
The outreach clinics were, for me, madly frustrating. We were always swamped and often disorganized, we never saw as many people as showed up, we ran out of medicine every.single.day, and the doctors struggled with inadequate translators. To the horror of the American women especially, men would push women and children out of line or cut in front of them in order to assure that they themselves were seen though many of the children were very ill. This is part of the culture, Dr. Patrick's son informed me. I felt this sexism myself when after a long, hot, and defeating day at clinic I was asked to get photos of the surgical team at work for the local paper. We were way out in the middle of nowhere and I needed a ride from one of the van drivers to get back to Kanginima hospital. Though the male drivers flirted shamelessly, when I asked for this favor I was absolutely refused. When one of the male doctors asked that I be taken to Kanginima, the men quickly offered their services.
Ice does not exist in Uganda. Air conditioning is rare. The roads are worse than any my tailbone has ever had to suffer on. The food is plain, the water caused everyone on the trip to have diarrhea. Some of the Ugandan people were wonderful, others were suspicious and unwelcoming, nearly all wanted something. The children were at times the cutest things I've ever seen and at others demon spawn. Sometimes they would throw things at the van and yell, "Give me money!" or "Give me sweets!" Jordan, Camden, and I all at points fought with one another not because of any real issues in our relationships but because we were exhausted, sick, hot, and attempting to deal with the harsh reality of a third world country. We were all thrown into the trenches of a war we didn't understand.
What good can come from this awful experience? I asked myself this every hour it seemed and it wasn't until I returned to the States that I had an answer that didn't include a blasphemous swear word.
1. We got to track, see, film, and play with wild gorillas. A worthwhile experience, especially since only about 700 gorillas are left in the wild jungles of Uganda, Rwanda, and the D.R. of the Congo--all countries that are too densely populated and that suffer from prolonged warfare. The gorillas are getting the short end of the stick on this one, and though their populations have increased over the past decade, they are still in real danger of extinction.
2. The Mercy Trips volunteers were some of the most enjoyable people I've had the pleasure of knowing. They were kind to the three of us and included us in everything they did--we made some really great friends and I feel honored to have met Dr. Daniel, the American doctor who headed this shindig. He is a man who truly lives out the very best of his faith in every word he speaks and action he takes. He was kind, humble, tireless, funny, motivating, and devoted to his Christian calling of caring for the poor and suffering. I literally followed the man around trying to soak up his energy. He's so kind he didn't even mind.
3. Though I speak only for myself, I dare to say that Jo, Cammy, and Ma would say the same: I no longer see the world the same way. When we came to Uganda I carried around an American's sense of guilt and arrogant duty. I was here to help these poor, black, Africans--three of the most disadvantageous things one can be in this world. I now realize that I had idealized these people beyond personhood. I had, in fact, dehumanized them just as poverty, politics, and hard-hearted ignorance and racism has. I was worse even because of the very fact that I thought I was helping. That I was on "their team". I wasn't. We aren't. After day 3 I stopped treating the people like porcelain dolls. I told them "No, leave me alone" right to their faces and was stern and unsmiling with some of the children. I gave the staring masses (they were always staring at us) hard, cold looks. Just as much as Ugandans deserve our respect and love, we deserve theirs. And when this wasn't forthcoming, we quickly learned that a bleeding heart only serves to create a relationship in which they both despise us and want something from us and in which we despise them but feel as though we owe them. I myself learned that people must be treated as people, not objects of guilt and pity, in order to see themselves as human beings with rights and inherent value. Conversely, at times we foreigners must demand respect in order that these people also see us as human beings with real lives and real struggles, not just rich Muzungus here to hand out money, board our airplanes with guilt relieved and peace out for a more comfortable home.
4. Stop giving money to Africa unless you KNOW it's getting to the people. Because unless you follow your check there, chances are government officials are buying a new jet or war tank with your money and the people never see a shilling of it. Education is what is needed. Infrastructure. Stable government. In the end, I would argue that only Ugandans can save Uganda. Though some foreigners are doing great and godly things there, the revolution will have to boil up through the people or they will perish in mass poverty and warfare.
5. The moon is only slightly less bright than the sun and we straddled the equator. Don't worry, we have pictures.
6. The kids. For as much as they could be little bastards, kids are kids everywhere and they were funny and loving and snotty and jonesin' for sugar.
7. I will personally slap anyone who argues that kids shouldn't be immunized. We have the luxury of such an argument because kids HAVE been immunized. Mothers in Uganda would tear out their own hearts to get their babies immunized because they're little ones are dying of diseases like polio. "Have you seen a baby dying of polio?" I'd like to ask all those naysayers out there. Because we have. That's something you don't un-see, my loved ones. Plus, if one actually looks up the evidence and talks to medical professionals, at this point the dangers of immunization just do not outweigh the benefits. Thank you, I'll get off my soapbox now.
8. When I critique American society and/or government, I do it out of love and a desire to make this nation as great as we pretend to be. I am thankful to have been born in this country; I will no longer feel guilty about these blessings I've received. In fact, I know now that by receiving the gifts of our first-world lives, we have also taken on a great responsibility. I keep hearing this famous line run through my mind: To whom much is given, much is owed. And we have been given more than I ever knew. We have such an awesome responsibility to care for the world that I tremble thinking of the day I have to stand in front of the heavenly hosts and make an account of my life. I stupidly asked myself where God was in Africa--then I realized that PEOPLE are unjust, PEOPLE are selfish, PEOPLE kill other people. God does not do these things. God does not allow these things. People do. We do. But that doesn't mean the Universe isn't watching. And we may be proper F-ed if the Universe turns out to be more just than merciful.
Hopefully my comrades-in-arms will be posting their experiences and reflections on here so that you all get a varied perspective. On a lighter note, Amsterdam is the place to be. We'd all live there if we could afford it.
Also, I got the interview for the JET program! I'm not in yet, but it is one encouraging step closer.
All my sleepy, mangled, bruised up love,
Your Ery-berry (always)
