The Clinic Up Country and a Wedding

Monday, 19^th 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.

A Break from Kampala

Let us rewind back to the first trip I made up country…

Nicole came up to Lira to meet me on Friday, and Saturday morning we left for Murchison Falls National Park.  We were able to take a vehicle from my organization because some participants left the 4-day workshop early and everyone else could ride in the other remaining vehicles which were heading back to Kampala.  That is how we were lucky enough to have James as our driver for the weekend and have a chance to learn a lot from him.  (In the interest of transparency and accountability, we did pay for the extra vehicle miles and James’s fees. Despite traveling in a company car.)

Nicole, would you like to take the helm on this one?

I sure would….So, off we went. The road started out great—paved tarmac most of the way.  During the trip we learned a bit about James.  Not only is a fantastic driver, careful, alert, and informative when it comes to pointing things out along our travels, but he is a real Ranger.  He retired from the Uganda Wildlife Association, or UWA, after working there for over 40 years.  He’s 69 years old, jovial, missing many teeth and speaks broken English.  He is literate but his education did not stray far from the first few years of school.  At UWA he was mainly stationed in Murchison National Park, so lucky for us he knew the area real well.  Upon retirement they gave him an award for being such a dedicated and faithful employee.  As a parting gift, he was given a lifetime membership to the national parks—something he is very proud of.  In the many hours of travel, James told us about his family and children. His salary over the years was meager but he prioritized education for his five children and now has two daughters pursuing degrees in Brisbane, Australia.  He and his family (he had multiple wives like many men here but eventually decided that having one “was better on [his] wallet”) grow on their farm most of what they need to live.  As a driver, James earns 20,000 shillings a day (8 USD) and gets 40,000 extra for food and accommodation when traveling up country.  Work is intermittent.  In a society where no real pension scheme exists and salaries are small, it’s no easy feat to put kids through secondary school, and nearly unheard of to send all 5 kids to higher education.  I can just imagine the sacrifices he and his wives (yes, plural) must have made to do so. 

We quickly fell in love with James.  And, it turns out, we weren’t the only ones.  When we got to the park, we easily saw how everyone’s faces lit up when they spotted him. Once into the park, we realized that James is also an expert on the wildlife.  Not only was he able to tell us the names of all the animals and birds, he was able to tell us about their lifespan, their hunting habits, and all sorts of other fun facts.

Driving through the park on Saturday, we reached a split in the road and started down the newer dirt road.  James very quickly realized this new road would not take us in the right direction.  He, rightly so, was annoyed there was no sign at this intersection.  The next day, as we were exiting through the park gate, James pulled over to let the guard in the booth know that a sign is needed at that juncture.  What a stand-up guy, still dedicated to his work even after his job was done.

James was able to arrange our riverboat ride on Saturday. We took the boat past crocodiles, hippos, monkeys and birds to the Murchison Falls, discovered by none other than some famed British exporter who named the falls after Lord Murchison, who, by the way, never saw the falls in his namesake.  Murchison Falls is the part of the River Nile (not to be confused with the Nile River) that squeezes through a 7 meter gap and comes rushing out.  It started to rain very hard just as we reached the falls and were ready to turn around and head back.

This is about as close as we got.  It was rushing pretty hard, trust me.

Sunday we woke up early in order to see some lions attempting to grab some breakfast.  They were unsuccessful, but we did get a little show.  Here are some pictures from our day.

 Sunrise over the River Nile

 It's a hungry, hungry one

These guys walk like they own the place

On a very sad, but real note, the jaded past of LRA’s destruction for 20 years in Northern Uganda is inescapable in this area.  The originator of the quaint lodging we stayed at was shot and killed by LRA rebels when he went out one afternoon in 2006 to save a distressed hiker.  This victim of the LRA left behind a wife, a kid, and another on the way.

The Okeng Community - Still Up Country

Post by Josh

Today we set out with more sodas and biscuits in tow to the Okeng community, which is about a 90 minute drive from Lira, a small town with many bicycles where the hotel is.  We turned off the main road and the road became muddy, bumpy, and swampy: it was more a path than a road.  We bumped over standing water, in which we spotted some tortoises.  Then another turn and the road got narrow, tall lush brush scraping against both sides of the van.  Finally we reached the Okeng community.  A rural village consisting of about 70 mud huts, and few brick ones.

This hut was the best kept hut I’ve seen yet.  It is owned by a young male, not yet married.  Apparently, after marriage these little things of looking good in the neighborhood fall to the wayside as other responsibilities take over.

We parked by the giant mango tree which is the community meeting place.  The Okeng community, unlike the visit to the clan on Tuesday, consists of a few different clans, striving to live in harmony together.  When we arrived word was sent around that we were going to hold a meeting.  Apparently the initial invite went just to the clan leaders, some individuals were sent around on bikes to rally the rest of the villagers.  In the meanwhile we toured the gardens, crops, and new community grazing site, with boundary markers sparked by the work of my NGO.

The community was greatly appreciative of the aid from my org.  They now have demarcated public grazing space and residents’ farming areas, or garden, are marked and mapped.  A surveyor has been out to the site and today we presented the community with a deed plan from the surveyor.  This is a huge step for any community such as this one.  Few have been able to make it this far, mostly because of disputes arising from challenges related to coming to agreements with each other during the process.  Okeng village has also written a charter regarding the rules of the grazing area.  Land disputes in this community have decreased, people are more familiar with their rights, and they have tools such as maps and boundary markers to protect themselves from encroachers and land-grabbers and prove exactly the location and size of their land.  Hurray for advocacy and the aid of NGOs!  In addition, women now have a much larger presence at meetings and speak during them because people in the organization spoke to them about their role in the community.  In sum, people are happier. 

But this is just one community, there are many more hidden out there amidst the roads that aren’t really roads in Northern Uganda.  The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) led by Joseph Kony displaced many people in a 20 year period ending in 2006.  The issues displaced people that returned to their land face are plenty.  Land is just about all people have.  They pay no bills, rent, or anything of the sort.  They really do live on less than a dollar a day, but they don’t need money on a day to day basis as most of their food comes from their land or through barter.  However, despite this fact, money is important, and some families value it more than others.  I saw a few families that have chosen to have a crop that yields more money, such as small red hot chili peppers, which allows them to have brick and mortar home as opposed to the standard mud hut.  On the flip side, “excess income” can be spent by the man head of household on drinking, which is obviously not the best use of rare funds.  Necessary changes to the community like surveyors, boundary markers, and deeds cost money among other one-off items like bicycles and dowry. It’s not just the future of land rights in this part of Uganda that needs coaching, organizations preach women’s rights and other issues in this country as well.  Some of those organizations were touring these communities with us and are figuring out how they can work with us to best solve these problems. 

The Okeng community took two years to get to where they are today.  Other communities do not see the importance of title or survey, or there is too much disagreement within them to arrive at the stage I witnessed in Okeng.   Communities will continue to face land rights issues until they start to understand the importance of equipping themselves with the proper tools for protection and start working together.  The onus is very much on them.

Such stories like the Okeng community are remarkable to witness firsthand.  The people are incredibly grateful, especially when we return to their community, for any reason.  When they are happy, they work together well.  I also learned the importance of having enough soda and biscuits for everyone.

The mid-meeting break consists of Fanta, Coke and biscuits for everyone.

"Up Country"

Post by Josh

I keep hearing about traveling “up country.”  It’s where the work of my organization is done, they have two field offices “up country.”  Land rights became a bigger issue after the turmoil that occurred “up country” back in 1996-2006 and we are trying to create peace, harmony, and justice there.  I’ve also heard that it is just gorgeous there, where?….”up country.”

On Tuesday, I left for the greener parts of Uganda (yeah, yeah “up country”), with two staff members from my NGO and representatives from nine other NGOs.  This is supposed to be a learning trip for other organizations whose mission overlaps with ours in the realms of land rights and/or women’s issues.  The idea is that the other participants learn what my org is doing and more about the laws governing land rights.  Because the customary laws—rules within the clans—and the new Land Act have had little time to coexist, the real governing authority is not clear.  As these organizations are well familiar with, people start to act on their volition and take whatever they feel they can have.  Victims do not know where to turn to and the organizations deployed to help may also be jaded by all the wrong ideas that are consistently followed.  Hopefully they will learn something from my organization which is on the leading edge of land rights knowledge in the country.  The second fold of the trip involves one of our donor organizations.  They also donate to the other organizations represented and this is an opportunity for them to see the work we are performing in the field and also speak with some of their other grant recipients.

The trip up was smooth, which is a big deal in Uganda.  In Uganda, people either say the roads are very bad or the roads are very good, fortunately, this road was the latter.  It even had lines, yellow ones and white ones, but still one way in each direction.  The road took us over a pretty fast moving part of the River Nile and then past some baboons hangin’ on the roadside.  There were also many people hangin’ on the roadside.  Just one of those moments I realized that we are not so far off from our monkey friends.  Just six years ago, the only way to travel in these parts was with a convoy of about a 100 cars and army vehicles situated in the front, midddle, and back.  Cars would wait by the Nile crossing until enough amassed and then make the trip, fast, and without stopping.

Tuesday’s main attraction was a visit to a property belonging to the Mwa Otira Tok clan.  This is a clan that is over 900,000 strong, at least that was the reported number of registered voters in their last election, a fact I learned while sitting next to the elected Chief on our way back—that’s right, I sat next to a Clan Chief!  The 70 or so at this meeting were just a tiny sample of the population.  We caravanned into their property in two white vans, a pickup truck, and a Land Rover.  Our reception was load, and proud.  I experienced, for the first time, African women singing (for lack of a better word) in a high pitched way: lalalalalalalala.  One woman came up to shake our hands while kneeling before each one of us.  Obviously, this organization has done something good here.

Hail to the Clan Chief

While we were sitting in a small patch of property beneath a thick old tree whose branches fingered out and above us to add much needed shade from the hot Up Country sun, I observed the skin of the clan people.  It was rough and beaten: much different than my own and that of the other NGO workers in attendance.  The people here don’t work in the city.  Instead they spend their whole life working the fields and outdoors, under the sun.  Many were barefoot and their feet had a whole layer of collouse that my delicate feet do not obtain.  The women all bend at the hip and waist, and fold over like a jackknife.  The grandma seated next to me would get up by first standing, then her hands leave the ground once her legs are straight, then unfolding to an upright position, 

NGO workers mix with the Mwa Otira Tok clan 

My organization has helped this clan in two ways: education through teaching the laws and rules around land rights, and boundary trees.  Boundary trees are a certain type of cheap, easily acquired tree that can be rooted in the ground.  When planted close together like in the picture below it is hard to remove and clearly demarcates the land boarder.  

Boundary trees keep a kid goat from grazing on the neighbor's land

We brought treats of biscuits and soda for those in attendance.  At first I didn’t feel good about giving these treats out, it almost seemed like bribery and a poor use of donor funds, but people flocked to get their “reward” for meeting with us.  The clan chiefs asked us if we had extra notebooks (cost: less than 50 cents).  We did and they were very grateful.  Some things just don’t make sense, I understand that income for clan members is low and a soda seems like a great treat, but when the better-dressed clan chief asks if he could have a 50 cent notebook, I am perplexed. 

As things wrapped up and people were mingling, one of the grandmas got my attention and asked me if there was any more soda.  She asked in her native tongue and after much back-and-forth and some help by one of the younger men I understood that she didn’t get a soda.  I ran back to the cars but the truck with the sodas had left to pick up more program participants.  I went into our van and grabbed a juicebox, you remember, the kind that used to get packed with school lunch every day.  Apple black current.  I brought it to her and, figuring the wrapper and straw might present a problem, opened it for her.  The site of grandma sipping out of a juicebox made others around laugh and made her very, very happy.

Day 2 Up Country

Today was a grueling day of presentations by all the other NGO representatives.  Some were better than others.  There was quite a bit of overlap in the work they all do.  This was mainly an informative session, and not a sharing of ideas on how to benefit from each other’s advances in the field.

Tomorrow it’s back in the field as we visit more people that we have helped in the past. 

To date, the coolest cane I've seen.