Journey mercies and the dogs’ choir

Over the last two days we travelled from Lake Mburo Park in the west of Uganda, to Soroti in the north-east. Ugandans often wish you "journey mercies" when you set off and give thanks for them when you arrive. Since on the journey we passed three recent accident scenes, at least two of them fatal, you can see why. A minibus taxi with the front smashed in. As these only travel when they are full, the carnage must have been fearful. Three big trucks tumbled in the ditch by the road. If the drivers were wearing their seatbelts, I think they could have survived. And after waiting in a long queue to pass vehicles stopped in the road, we could see the feet of someone laid out in the back of the police pick-up. When you know something about emergency services and hospital treatments here, this kind of thing becomes even more intimidating. Accidents? Perhaps. But when you look at the old vehicles on the roads here, many puffing out black smoke, and the quality of the roads with few safety features apart from speed bumps, you realise this too is connected to poverty and poor governance. Charles our driver agreed that old vehicles that have reached the end of their useful life in “developed” countries are all that most people can afford. And that the system of annual vehicle checks (like UK MOT tests) has been abandoned as it was not working. So you have badly trained drivers in badly maintained old vehicles on a road system that is improving but still lacks most of the safety features we take for granted. No surprise that there is a high fatality rate. Police stopped us, making checks, but it is not always clear whether they are looking to enforce safety regulations or collect money from drivers.

So it was with a sense of relief that we arrived at the Global Care Centre in Soroti and walked into the familiar building. The offices were empty so we continued down the corridor to The Ark disability centre. “You are welcome Dr Tom!” Warm greetings from the staff giving the children their lunch. We greeted some familiar children and some unfamiliar new ones. Despite the new bunting the place seemed a little less bright somehow. I realised that someone was missing. A little girl that means a lot to me has gone …. to school! She doesn’t speak and most of her limbs hardly work but she is bright as a button and is reportedly doing really well, though we will need some additional funds to support her classroom assistant etc. Her smile is lighting up another room and we are all delighted. These successes are what we work for. To know more, or to help, go to  https://www.globalcare.org/project/the-ark/ 

Here in Soroti we look forward to the week’s programme, more details to follow.

And the dogs’ choir? At last night’s little hotel in Mukono, we were entertained by their singing mingling with the weird noises of Marabou Storks and local pop music. Unexpected talents are everywhere in this country!

Patti and the pigs

You drive for an hour out of town.
It’s a hot day but the scenery is spectacular with field and woods, valleys and steep hills, children waving and calling, scattered houses and villages, roadside markets, goats, cattle, businesses. Trees you can’t name, with flowers and fruit, rows of tall eucalyptus. And always the red dust from the dirt road.
The driver goes fast, sometimes it feels too fast, but he slows for the bends and bumps and there are no accidents, though there is a clanking in the rear suspension that will require a visit to the garage tonight.
Eventually the ancient Toyota minivan  stops, several hundred metres further down the dwindling track than you thought was wise, or even possible, and it is time to walk. Soon you are on a steep uphill path. You worry vaguely about snakes, more about slipping and falling. Passing plantain trees, cassava and coffee bushes you reach the top of the hill where there is a well built rectangular mud and wattle home with a corrugated iron roof. Chickens ducks and pigs scratch about as you slowly approach. Polite greetings are exchanged and you enter the house and sit on a wooden bench. You wonder if you should lean against the mud wall.
On the dirt floor sits a smiling plump girl finishing her lunch from a bowl – she is eating pieces of cassava with her hands. Her clothes are grimy. She is four years old and we have come to discuss her going to school. A lady breast feeds a smaller child, another sits on the bench beside me and doesn’t say much.
Why have we gone to all this trouble for one girl to get to school? Because Patricia (not her real name) was born with spina bifida and following surgery her left leg is paralysed and numb. She moves by shuffling on the dirt floor and cannot use the locally made crutches that her parents got for her. It is impressive that her siblings and neighbours walk over 3 km to their local primary school in such terrain, many of them barefoot. It is very hard to imagine how Patricia could make the trip. Motorcycle taxis seem to reach most places round here, but this route would challenge a professional trail rider. And how can she get treatment when the nearest suitable hospital is about 80 km away?
We, we did ask the question so we will have to try to come up with some answers. First we will see if we can get her off the floor and get the huge ulcer on her knee to heal. Then establish how she can move about and see about helping the school get ready to receive her. She will need transport walking aids and a an accessible latrine, something in which we are becoming expert.
It’s been a tiring day for me, but this is someone’s life. Leave no one behind!