Monday, 19th December
Last Friday Nicole left Kampala to travel up country to a birthing center/clinic started by two American midwives, one of whom is based in Brooklyn for half the year, now, and in Atiak, the town I’m resting in, now.
I say resting in, because it really is a rest. I worked for the last 17 of 18 days to ensure a proper transfer of my activities, and I write you now from a hammock in the birthing quarters. There are no birthing patience disturbing at the moment, though I’m told they don’t make much noise at all during labor. Strong women. Strong women who have a very tough life, but I’ll let Nicole opine more on that later.
Today is Monday, I arrived yesterday afternoon after attending my colleague’s sister’s wedding. I don’t believe it was a full sister, more of a half sister of sorts, maybe what we would call a first cousin, or maybe a mixture of the two. I didn’t really want to dig too deep into the familial dynamic so I can’t relay the particulars of that family tree.
Saturday morning I hitched a ride with my colleague, her husband, other sister (half sister? as I didn’t really see her at the wedding, perhaps I just missed her), and husband’s cousin. We were packed in that car with my big backpack and their Christmas break luggage for their soirée in Soroti. Early in the trip I had the opportunity to rearrange the “boot” so my bag could stop disturbing us in the back seat. Ugandans need to start playing Tetris.
Despite arriving in Lira with plenty of time to spare we were still late to the ceremony by about 15 minutes. The church made me think of what an auditorium for a school in the South would be like. At least the benches were the height of an elementary school’s auditorium. There were some nice purple and white decorations along the sides which matched the bridal party’s outfits, and the obligatory Jesus is Good banner with his picture. A white Jesus I might add. Maybe that’s why, as a white man in Uganda (who is Jewish, too) I am such a celebrity among the kids. It’s the same man they see on the wall every Sunday!
Time for a Game of Fortunately/Unfortunately
Unfortunately: The whole ceremony was in Luo, the local language of my colleague’s family/tribe.
Fortunately, I was the only white person in the room of close to 250, so it was expected I wouldn’t understand anything.
Unfortunately, it was hot and I had to keep my shirt on, unlike the boy in his mother’s arms 7 rows in front from me.
Fortunately, the ceiling fan closest to me was working, there were six of them, and only one other was working.
Unfortunately, the ceiling was pretty far away.
Fortunately, I had a personal translator for the pastor’s sermon which was about treating each other with love and respect,
Unfortunately, he didn’t use those words. He said, Don’t beat your wife, she is a treasure; when you argue, argue in Luo or in English, don’t mix languages because you might say something you don’t mean (I’m still trying to figure that one out); and then something about the groom’s big forehead becoming a characteristic you come to loath in your later years, learn to love it (again, WHAT?).
Fortunately, the precarious flower pot near my head did not topple over on me or anyone else around during the surmon.
Unfortunately, the sermon went on for over an hour and half.
Fortunately, I had an aisle seat for the recessional action which involved a walk consisting of a pattern of one step forward, rock back, rock forward, back again, forward again and then the next step forward. All the walkers performed it perfectly in sync. Well done Betty and Gerald (is it ok if I call you Jerry), and the rest of your bridal party.
Speaking of party, the reception was shall I say a spectacle. The scene involved a series of open tents housing the guests on the typical plastic, easily stackable, chairs, which were arranged in a semicircle around the center area. Something I learned about these weddings is that there is a lot of community involvement. A committee is charged with preparing all the necessary means for the reception to elicit a community feel. Thus, only some people actually receive invitations, the rest of the community is entitled to come. And they came….bearing gifts of giant ceramic pots, money and chickens, very much alive chickens. The gift giving ceremony included a sort of African conga line of the people carrying the gifts, and it is combined with the reception line, so everyone has a chance to shake hands and hug the Bride and Groom.
But the party didn’t start just yet. There were plenty of speeches, not just by the immediate family but any Members of Parliament (MPs) related to the wedded. This can make things go long and off topic if political talk is not your thing. Since we are not near an election we were spared much of the political tangent.
The ceremony of the reception went on to the cake cutting (with dancing) and some more speeches. Finally it was time for food, but before I could even say Mazel Tov, the five food stations each had a line of 70 or so people squished and queued up for the feast. Sounds of Jesus is the Greatest and some Kenny Rogers blasted through the gigantic speakers situated very near these lines. I knew some people so we managed to cut one of these lines for a fastlane to the feast. The standard, rice, matoke, goat’s meat, chicken, g-nut sauce, beans, and greens. Save for some fish. It was not much different than my everyday work lunch. I imagine they don’t make such a fuss over caterers and tastings in these parts.
Just when the party was getting started and I was starting to learn some new hip gyrating moves, the rains came for the third time in the day. Major bummer. Many people left and others took their drinks under cover. Almost 45 minutes later it let up enough for me to head to my hotel. The weird thing was that no one seemed upset about this. I think most of the wedding festivities were over and people were going to be leaving anyway.
Though it wasn’t the rockin’ experience I anticipated, it was an authentic African wedding and I can say I’ve attended one.
By 2pm on Sunday I reached the clinic. Yes, the road from Gulu to Atiok is bad, but what exactly does that mean? 1) it is dusty: when a double trailer truck or a bus passes by it is a good idea to have those windows closed, my bag sitting on the roof, I can ’t say I was able to keep that protected from the elements. 2) We rode at about 30 to 40 mph for over 2 hours to reach the town. 3) the ruts and holes on this road are bad, falling off the side of the road is a very real possibility if the driver is not careful.
But we were successful in our journey and I was dropped off right outside the clinic, door-to-door service. It’s pretty much always the case. Transportation here is no joke, there is a taxi, bus, or car to take you anywhere, it just requires some waiting. I’ve learned to be patient.
The Clinic
The stories I’ve been hearing over the past week on my calls with Nicole are true. It’s a compound of a few different huts, the hut Nicole was sleeping in has a nesting hen, keeping its eggs incubated at the foot of one of the two beds, it’s really quite nice. The birthing center is basically a giant hut with eight small offshoot rooms which act as birthing rooms and one as an office. The large middle space with bright orange and blue wall paint center around three very comfortable hammocks, which brings me to where I am right now, relaxing. The business of birthing is slow at the clinic right now because of some rumors being spread by other traditional birth midwives who were not given the job at the clinic. So there is some concern that a reputation building needs to take place: set a positive presence in the community. I have a feeling that this won’t last long because this place is MUCH nicer than any option even within a two hour radius from here. Two hours on a bumpy, dusty, sandy, skinny back—way-back—country road is nothing a woman in labor wants to experience.
It’s no Ikea Bookshelf
I spent my morning helping out two, let us call them, contractors put together an 100% authentic African thatched roof. They are building another sleeping quarters. The circular shape foundation and walls are already in place, and today work on the roof began. I was tasked with procuring material, specifically making the rope they will use to tie the skeleton structure together. We used two kinds of wood, bamboo and another type of tree type from which we stripped long skinny pieces from to create the rope. The starting point for stripping away the rope from the bark can be done with a few machete cuts or by merely biting into the bark. I learned the proper method after some failure, but all learning comes with a little failure at first, and some Ugandans to laugh at you. Each limb yields four long strips of rope. And each hour of work yields some very numb finger tips. It’s not easy work but the concept is certainly simple. I’m on vacation now so I only worked half the day. Tomorrow we put on the thatching and maybe throw that baby up on top. You know, raise the roof.
