Highs and Lows

13/9/14

There are times when I am on top of my shit here, and then there are times when I am literally on top of shit here in the Peace Corps. As per usual, this weekAdama Restaurant has been filled with many high and low points. I got back from Entebbe on Sunday night after discovering where the two “hole-in-the-wall” Ethiopian restaurants were in Kampala. One of them was tucked away near the Shoprite on Entebbe Road in this Ethiopian woman’s living room, which isn’t open on Sundays. The other one was up the hill to the west of the New Taxi Park named Adama. The food was amazing and delicious, but I still felt exhausted from my heavy month of travelling.

I headed back to my site and was relieved to finally be back home. I felt exhausted and weary, but I understood that this was normal for me. I taught my first lesson of Term 3 at my PTC on Monday, and was very pleased with the results. I had learned from the students that the last thing they learned from my fellow math and science teacher, Mr. Nsereko, were functions in math and sound waves in science. I therefore crafted a lesson plan revolving around the definition and application of a function in mathematics. I was very happy with how my students received the knowledge. At the end of the day on Monday I still felt a bit tired and more out of it than usual (I had thrown up my dinner of plain rice), so I decided to go to bed early, but I was happy that life here was finally getting back to normal.

I don’t think that I can even describe to you how I felt during those next few days this past week. I had woken up on Tuesday and biked to a nearby duka in order to purchase biscuits, a coke, and some toilet paper because I started having some stomach upsets when I woke up. I then called Rebekah in order to tell her that I was going to make it to Nakaseke by the evening in order to restart going on the radio show. All of a sudden I found myself feverish, nauseous, delirious, and sick with a head-splitting headache. All I could do from morning until the late evening was lie down in my bed because any simple movement caused my entire body to ache.

Journal Entry:
“everything sucks, I keep throwing up everything I eat although throwing up bananas, water, and toast doesn’t taste so bad on the way up. I’ll never forget at staging that this experience would be the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. There’s literally no working electronic device in my house right now.

Yet even this day must be suffered. Soon this too shall pass and life will continue. I came in knowing that it wouldn’t be easy, and it sure as hell isn’t. But it’s in all moments when the struggle is real that meaning shows itself.

I never thought that throwing up could lead to so much relief. Literally after throwing up I felt so much better and had a lessening of the overall pain in my body. Hopefully, it’s all going to be better from here on out… that it was just a 24 hour bug. Let’s hope so, because it’s exhausting.”

I was hungry, but couldn’t eat anything. I had to go poop several times, but it hurt just to stand. I took Ibuprofen several times but threw them up each time. At first I assumed that my waves of chills and sudden sickness constituted Malaria, but my rapid Malaria test turned out to be negative. I took my temperature and called PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer) who told me that my temperature of 100 degrees F should not be making me feel that miserable and that if I felt any worse by the next morning then I should probably call a private hire to bring me in to the medical office in Kampala.

I was so thankful for my neighbor Kato Godfrey who biked all the way to Bamunanika in order to pick up some water and groceries for me since I was unable to even walk any significant distance outside of my house. I even chuckled a bit because I had asked him to pick up some Glucose Biscuits for me which were these local, dry biscuits called “Glucose Biscuits”, but he instead picked up packets of pure Glucose for me. I forced myself to drink oral rehydration fluids and eat some toast since I had eaten nothing during the day. I don’t even know how I got through the rest of that day, because there was no electricity, I had no working laptop, there was nothing to do in my house, I was both burning hot and frigidly cold, and my cell phone died right after the Peace Corps Medical Officer called me to check up on me.

Wednesday was a blur as well, because I still had a headache, but was feeling slightly better. My phone was dead and there was no electricity in the surrounding villages so I didn’t know what time it was at all. I stayed inside the entire day to continue recovering. I don’t think that I had ever felt that way before; I literally would just stare blankly at my walls and feel as if I was inside of a dream. I was delirious and couldn’t tell if it was from my sickness, the mefloquine, my long sojourn from site, or a mixture of all three. Sometimes, all I could think about was how nice it would be to have my own toilet with an abundant supply of toilet paper and a refrigerator with cold water and enough bland food to eat so that I didn’t have to poop or throw everything out.

Then on Thursday morning came and I felt so much better. I t was almost as if all that was left was a few stomach rumbles. I was able to teach again which felt good because I started the Algebra I Unit in mathematics with my students, and they seemed to understand the concepts. Rachel came over later in the day and I was able to make a Mexican dinner for both of us. I was extremely happy to finally eat some substantial food with flavor since I had only eaten small bananas and toast for the duration of the week. It felt good to laugh and smile again with a friend.

On Friday we headed to Kampala and I was well enough to perform my usual bike ride from Luteete to Wobulenzi. Rachel had some business with Peace by Piece Kitenge merchandise at the Peace Corps office and I was called in to work on video editing a Peace Corps Uganda 50th Anniversary Rap. As soon as I stepped in the office I was engulfed in the turbulent storm that only a Ugandan Peace Corps Headquarters could provide. Everyone seemed to be rushing off to a meeting and those who were able to talk to me gave me differing answers. When I asked where the Safety and Security Officer Fred was I received the following replies:

“He’s in his office.”

“Fred is not here at the moment.”

“I think that he’s in a meeting.”

“Ask Phylicia.”

“Phylicia is in a meeting.”

“There’s an emergency and he left to handle it.”

“He’s on the first floor.”

I eventually found Fred and gave him the Bystander Intervention training video that I had edited for him at the All Volunteer Conference a few weeks prior. I gave one of the staff members who was in charge of video ideas interviews from Coffee Camp that needed to be translated from Lukonzo into English. I then was meeting with the head IT person in order to sign out a Peace Corps laptop for the weekend so that I could edit the 50th Anniversary Rap Music Video. Unfortunately, there was no video editing software on any of the laptops. At first we attempted to install Adobe Premiere Elements 10 since I had gotten the software off of PirateBay, but I had the 32-bit version and the laptop was 64-bit. In the end, I was told that I had to make do with Windows Movie Maker to edit the video.

Ever since then, I’ve been staying at this new hostel in Kisementi called Fat Cat Hostel and have finished the music video. The original footage and audio The Fat Cat Backpackerswasn’t the best quality, but I did the best job that I could with the resources that were available to me. It’s been another surreal week and I still can’t understand what’s been happening in my life. Really, these sicknesses, long travels, and lack of my own laptop have really taken a toll on me. Recently, it’s been a series of lows sprinkled with intermittent highs.

But it’s still worth it. I was still looking up at the countless stars in the clear African sky as I retched in my pit latrine, my neighbor cared enough to buy groceries for me, I enjoyed one of the most delicious burgers at Endiro Café on Friday with some good friends even though my stomach started acting up again, and I got to edit video on Windows Movie Maker (never again) in the Peace Corps lounge as the U.S. Embassy released a notification of a terror alert in Kampala concerning a terrorist cell. In the midst of the downs there were ups and that’s what life is, especially in the Peace Corps.

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A Casual Bout of Giardia

1/7/14

So I woke up this morning excited because I knew that it was the start of an exciting week of adventure. I had a busy week ahead of me. As I started to get out of bed, I realized that my stomach was hurting. I hurried to the pit latrine to poop a bunch, and I thought that it was just because I ate a lot of food last night in order to clear everything out of the kitchen in preparation for me leaving. When I returned back to the house I was horrified to realize that the pain in my abdomen was actually cramps and that my burps smelled exactly like the ones I had during my bout of Giardia back in January.

At first I wondered whether the cramps, gas, and pain signified another problem. However, the only relief that I could get from the pain was by child’s pose in yoga or hunching over in a sitting-fetal position as I consulted the Peace Corps Uganda Health Handbook which I simultaneously love and despise. The cramps kept coming and going and I felt bloated and gassy. I decided to attack my ailments head on and I called the Peace Corps Medical Officer. The Officer on duty told me to take the 2000mg of tinidazole and wouldn’t have to take anything else like gabbroral since I had caught Giardia early. Fortunately, back in IST I had preemptively asked the Medical Office for all the medicines needed to treat Giardia in the likely chance that I would get it again.

I took the tinidazole and some acetaminophen and then slept for about 3 hours. I dreamed about living in a house back at home and sharing a Christmas Eve dinner with my mom and brother. At least it was nice to se them in my dreams and share a meal with them. I then woke up and felt almost 100% better. I would just have to take it a bit easy today instead of doing most of the things that I had initially planned to do. I mean the 4th of July celebration is this weekend and there’s no way that I’m gonna miss it.

Nurse Betsy

January 1, 2014

This counts as Day 6 in Nurse Betsy’s house and I am ready to get back to work. I’ve done my time in recovery here in this house of healing, and it’s about time for me to get back into the thick of things. However, I must first express my gratitude not only to Nurse Betsy, but also to the administration staff consisting of Dr. Francis, Dr. Joann, Agatha, and the drivers who brought me here and transported me to and from the Peace Corps HQ.

I owe my recovery in no small part to Nurse Betsy’s care and hard work. She continuously told me that she was amazed at us Peace Corps volunteers, especially the young ones. She marveled at our nerve to go forth into the unknown and leave the comforts of home behind and do good work. I replied that a big reason why we can do good work is because of people such as her who help to nurture us back to health. So this is her story:

In the early 1990’s, Betsy Kasamba won a lottery allowing her to accompany a child from Uganda to New York who was slated to have open-heart surgery. While living in Long Island, New York she stayed with Freddie and Gloria who took her in and treated her like a member of their own family. Betsy said that she owes so much to them, and that she experienced more in those four months in New York than even ten years spent in Uganda. Her host family brought her to the top of the TwinTowers, to the football stadium, drove her to see the sites, and made her feel at home. She remarked that she was so well taken care of and loved by Freddie and Gloria that she could never pay them back. When those four months were over, she returned back to Uganda.

Years later in the mid 2000’s, a couple, an American woman and a British man, lived in Uganda. They resided in Kampala with their two kids, and were relatively well-off. During a walk one day, the woman falls down and it turns out that she had a stroke. This left half of her body paralyzed, and Betsy was contacted to take care of her. Betsy would take this patient to surgery and in the process would come into contact with Dr. Stockley, who was the PCMO of Uganda at the time. Betsy would continuously see many Peace Corps volunteers at Dr. Stockley’s place. They were there for various reasons, ranging from having a checkup to receiving treatment while staying overnight.

Eventually one of the PC nurses, Anni Nyanzi, contacted Betsy and arranged to have her meet with the then Country Director, McGrath (sp?). The discussion went on in Nurse Betsy’s house, she remembers the day well: it was a Saturday and McGrath’s PC driver was Karim. This pivotal discussion revolved around how and where volunteers would be treated while staying near the Peace Corps Medical Office. It was suggested that maybe Betsy could work at the guest house and tend to the volunteers when they were sick. Betsy countered that that would not work because guest houses at rules and times for meals. Sick volunteers would have needs that did not follow schedules and if a volunteer needed food or drink at odd hours, then how would she look after them. It was proposed and decided that Betsy’s house would be the place where she would look after sick volunteers.

As I stated in my one of my previous posts, Betsy lived in this house because she had taken care of Mille Scent’s mother. After her mother passed away, Betsy was asked to live in this house and help take care of Mille Scent herself.

The Administrator Gary then interviewed Betsy, and so it came to pass that Betsy Kasamba became the healer Nurse Betsy who opens her house to sick Peace Corps volunteers who are far away from home and need someone to look after them. She told me that she has been treated so well by her family in the United States that she only hopes to take care of us too.

Life is funny in that way, because who would have thought that the kindness demonstrated by Freddie and Gloria, the incidence of Dr. Stockley, and the ownership of Mille Scent’s house would have all contributed to having this place be where all sick Peace Corps volunteers go in order to be healed and looked after within the vicinity of the Peace Corps Headquarters. Well, I am very thankful that it worked out this way, and I know that I was not Nurse Betsy’s first patient, and I will not be her last.

No Place I’d Rather Be

Five days ago on December 22nd I turned 23 years old. It was a low-key affair, and I didn’t even tell my host family about it. I woke up early to accompany my host dad to go to the Catholic Mass at St. Paul’s, and then he showed me around the markets and where I could buy chickens. He also informed me about the prices of various produce during this holiday season. I actually enjoyed it being a low-key affair, and it was humbling just to spend the day with the family. Then later on in the evening I trained with the neighborhood children and my host family’s children. The host family has four children: Diana, Davis, Daniella, and Daniel. Diana is six-years old and is the eldest girl, followed by the four-year old Davis, then the two-year old Daniella, and the eight-month old Daniel.

My host family is a very gracious and beautiful family. They call themselves a very free family. By this, I believe that they are not as rigid as some other traditional Ugandan families. For example, the girls do not kneel to greet me and the parents are not very strict when it comes to the children. During the day many of the neighborhood kids come over to the house to watch tv or play with the host family children. Recently I’ve started this training regiment that incorporates exercises from rugby and the Insanity workouts in order to stay more physically fit. The host family children and the neighborhood kids call it “training”. Whenever I return back to the host house, the kids all ask for training.

So it was decided that for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day that the Central Language group would all stay at the Saint Paul’s Guest House behind the Catholic Church in Kasana. We would all be partnered up two to a room and stay in one of the compounds with a small courtyard, communal room with a tv and couches, and a kitchen where we could cook. We split up the responsibilities for these two days and I made arrangements to purchase and lead the cooking of the food for the next two days. We bought rice, beans, 4kg of beef, two live chickens, mangoes, tomatoes, onions, garlic, oranges, pasta (also referred to as “macaron”), tomato paste, potatoes, and various other spices and baking supplies. The chickens were the hardest part of the meal, because I first had to reserve them from a neighbor and then I had to pick them up while they were still alive on Christmas Eve morning.

Later during the day on Christmas Eve I had one of the guest house workers demonstrate how to kill, de-feather, and gut the chickens in front of me so that I would be able to do the same thing myself in the future. He started by laying banana leaves on the ground and then laying a chicken on top of it. He pulls back the wings and then steps on it with one foot and then steps his other foot on the chicken’s feet in order to keep it still. He then plucks the feathers from the bird’s neck in order to make the beheading cleaner. Then he kills the chicken by slicing through the neck. The neck is then held in order to spurt out as much blood through one of the main arteries. The open end of the neck is then tied with a piece of banana leaf in order to keep the insides fresh during de-feathering.

Boiling water is then poured over the chicken carcass in order to assist in the plucking of all the feathers. Then the chicken is gutted by cutting around the anal cavity and carefully pulling out all of the guts. He advised that care must be taken not to burst the gall bladder, because its contents could ruin the taste of the chicken. Then the gizzard had to be removed from the neck of the chicken, otherwise there would be tiny stones that would be added to the chicken. Water was then poured into and around the chicken in order to clean it from the remaining blood and then the chicken was ready to be stuffed and roasted.

I took a small break from the Christmas Eve festivities and beer pong in order to wish my host family a Merry Christmas (Sekukulu Ennungi). I returned to the household and gave the children some more Reese’s Pieces and Maryland Fisher’s Popcorn. To the parents I gave them a bottle of Spanish White Wine bought from one of the local stores. They were very thankful for the gifts and they shared with me a fourth of a cake made for Christmas Day. It was a small, round cake that tasted of ginger and had a hard sugar icing covering its entirety with small dots of pink frosting. My host mother told me that she had paid one of her neighbor friends to make the cake for her for 40,000 Ush. It was this small gesture that made me emotional, because this family that did not have much still went out of the way in order to make Christmas Day special with a small expensive cake. They even set up a branch of what looked like an Evergreen Tree to be the Christmas Tree in the corner of the room. I told the family that I would return the next day.

Then it was Christmas Eve night and we just finished a scrumptious dinner of Old Bay and sugar dry-rubbed steaks, roasted chicken stuffed with onions, carrots, garlic, oranges, and tangerines, rice with mangoes, onions, and oranges, and thinly cut, garlic-basted filets of beef. It was a meal that took everyone’s help to prepare and several days to plan. Even with the limited materials of on and off again electricity, a clogged sink, and only two burners we were successfully able to cook all of the food that we wanted to make. It was a successful meal, and I was happy.

The following is an excerpt written by me on Christmas Eve night at bed as the stomach cramps intensified:

“Right now I am lying on the guest house bed and am a bit out of commission. The feeling that I have right now is reminiscent of the abdominal and intestinal pains from Giardia. It’s not as bad or debilitating, but it still hurts a lot and has been plaguing me since I arrived on site here with my host family. It sucks, because I really want to be close to me host family and spend more time with them and the four beautiful children, but I usually excuse myself to lie down on the cold, hard ground of my bedroom in the house with the windows open in order to cool myself.

And there’s nothing that I can do about the pain. It’s just there.”

It was at this point that I had to stop writing because of the pain. Fortunately, I was able to sleep and I awoke Christmas Day feeling a bit better. I attended the Catholic Mass at 10am and it lasted until 1pm. The homily itself took about an hour and then the announcements at the end of the service took about 45 minutes, during which they thanked all of the local government officials and religious clergy who attended that service as well as myself and the other Peace Corps Volunteer who attended the mass.

I returned back to the guest house and prepared a large pot of chili for lunch with the added flavoring of taco seasoning shared by another volunteer. I got a head start on dinner, which was Filipino adobo (beef boiled in soy sauce, vinegar, and garlic) and roast chicken again. We finished eating dinner, but again the cramps came back and I was unable to return back to my host family to wish them Merry Christmas. The cramping was intense again, but I was able to sleep after much tossing and turning on the bed.

The day after Christmas offered a bit of a respite from my stomach cramps. I felt myself getting much better and I returned back to my host family from the guest house where they asked me to cook the beef for them. I obliged and dry-rubbed slices of beef with a mixture of Old Bay seasoning from Maryland and sugar. I then pan fried them on the sagiri and served it to my host family with some rice. They absolutely loved it, and said that they were learning about these different cooking methods from me. I wrote in my journal:

“I honestly never would have believed you when it was said that we would experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. But now there is no other way to describe it. I spent a tough past week since arriving at homestay with a gassy stomach, cramps, and tiredness with switching up my schedule and lifestyle so far. I started having the cramps on my birthday and dealt with it through the Christmas celebrations even as I cooked. I feel so much better am so glad that my host family loves my OldBay and sugar barbecued meat on the sagiri. I am full, content, my stomach isn’t cramping, and life is good again.”

However, I was wary of this respite and called PCMO in order to ensure that my cramping stopped for good. Joann, the PCMO who helped me during my bout of Giardia at Shimoni a few weeks ago, instructed me to purchase 2g of Tinidazole from the local pharmacy. In the evening I walked into Kasana and purchased the medicine and returned back to my homestay where I ate some fish for dinner and took the Tinidazole. As soon as I finished supper, I started having intense gas and cramps. This started around 8pm and continued throughout the duration of the night. I did not sleep that night from the 26th to the 27th. I called PCMO around 2am and was consoled by Joann who told me to take some Ibuprofen and that I would be picked up by a Peace Corps vehicle and brought to the Peace Corps HQ and Medical Office in Kampala. I didn’t know if I could make it that long. I took 600mg of Ibuprofen, which did nothing to curb the pain for over 12 hours:

“Crap, it’s exhausting dealing with the pain of bloating, gas, and cramps for over a week. And I can’t do anything about it. It’s inside me and it just hurts so much and sucks.

It’s just hurt so much for over a week now without relief. Why?!

I’m crying on my knees in the fetal position because it hurts so bad. I’ve never felt anything like it. It’s like shooting pain coming from inside my stomach.

Oh my God I literally cannot move or function without these cramps. I can feel churning in my stomach and lower abdomen and there’s nothing I can do to lessen the pain.”

While I waited for the Peace Corps vehicle to arrive, I tossed and turned on the bed and then would sometimes curl up into a ball on the floor because it was cool and hard on the ground. Not even the fetal position could help me and every burp or fart was accompanied by a resounding gurgle from my stomach which would lead to more gas being produced inside of me. Around 5am I threw up in the pit latrines and then returned to my room for 5 more hours of pain until the Peace Corps vehicle arrived to pick me up. I am so thankful to my language trainers, Herbert and Dan, because they arranged for the vehicle to arrive directly at my host family’s doorstep in order to pick me up.

I then endured two hours of driving through the bumpy Ugandan roads until we arrived at the Peace Corps HQ and medical office in Kampala. I remember attempting to occupy my mind with fond memories of my life before Africa in order to divert my attention from the pain. I thought of biking through the beaches of Ruegen in northern Germany, hanging out with my BU friends in my Allston apartment, and thinking of how comfortable my old bedroom in Owings Mills would be. I discovered that gentle memories were the best ones to curb the pain, and not ones involving much physical activity such as sports, drinking alcohol, or hardcore adventuring as these only led to focusing on movement which would lead to a churning sensation in my stomach. I would focus very hard on a good memory and grasp onto one of the chairs in the van in order to deal with the pain. If there was a moment when I wanted to return back home to the United States even for just an hour, it was during this ordeal.

We then made it to the Peace Corps medical office and Joann came to meet me. I hugged her and then just burst into tears from my pain, exhaustion, and hope for relief after a week of pain. She consoled me and told me that they would do everything that they could to help me feel better. I later found out that she was also believer in holistic medicine and healing in addition to her science-based background as a doctor. She believed in taking care of the person from a personal level, and I was even told from her co-workers at the office that she was a presence that they would all miss. Agatha, one of the Ugandan medical workers at the office, shared with me that she would miss Joann’s hugs in the morning and how she would always be ready to make you feel alright and at home. Joann then took me to see Dr. Francis who was to become the main PCMO since Joann was leaving the Peace Corps for good that day to return back to her home in California. Dr. Francis then gathered up all the information that he could from me and what I had been experiencing over the past week. He surmised that I either had Giardia or Amoebiasis (amoebic dysentery) and asked me to submit some stool samples.

He then prescribed me with several medicines to combat both my pain and the parasites within my intestines.

Tinidazole was used in order to deal with the parasites inside my intestines which would be taken for the next two days and then followed by Gabbroral for the following week. Then I took Oxycodone/Acetaminophen to deal with the pain and Nospa as a muscle relaxant to help with my stomach cramps.

I then took a short nap in one of the side rooms of the medical office at the Peace Corps HQ, and then Johnson, one of the Ugandan Peace Corps workers and drivers met me to drive me to Nurse Betsy’s house near Entebbe. I was driven alongside a current PCV who was also being brought to Nurse Betsy’s house for other reasons and for healing of a different sort. I will not disclose his name due to reasons of privacy, but he has given me permission to share some of his stories. For the duration of this post I shall call him “M” just like the first letter of my name.

We arrived at Nurse Betsy’s house which feels like a home away from home. It literally feels like the homeliest house that I have ever been to in a long time. It sits near the top of a hill near Kampala and has a closed gate that leads to a small parking lot area. The lower level has rooms meant for the property owner, named Mille Scent, who was the founding director of ISIS (Women’s International Cross-Cultural Exchange). The house is used a place of rest and healing for PCVs who are sick and need to be monitored while recovering and taking medicine underneath the supervision of the PCMO and Nurse Betsy herself. During my time in Africa, I had heard stories from PCVs who had spent time here too during intense bouts of Malaria and other diseases. I never would have believed that I too would be here.

The grounds are covered with all sorts of tropical plants from banana flowers hailing from Madagascar to Ugandan ferns. The inside is also decorated in such a way that evokes feelings of home. It’s therapeutic here. There are pictures of old family members, coasters from England, small paintings, pastel-painted walls, and panoramic view of other villas and houses on these hills. However, the most rehabilitating part of this place has been Nurse Betsy herself. She is one of the most genuinely kind-hearted people whom I have had the pleasure of meeting during my stay here. Within minutes of arriving she had a bowl of chicken noodle soup and freshly cut bananas and watermelon. And for the first time in over a week I was finally able to lie on a bed without pain and rest.

While here, I have also been able to have the pleasure of sharing company with M who accompanied me here. We have both been sharing a few stories about our experiences in life and about his time spent here in Uganda. I found out that he had devoted a lot of time to learning Luganda, and was now almost fluent in it. He shared some of his knowledge about how the Peace Corps Uganda program was revamped under the leadership of the current Country Director Loucine. I was told that Loucine was an expert in rehabilitating programs that needed to be resuscitated, because there was a time a few years ago when Peace Corps Uganda was almost on the verge of shutting down. The old Country Director was more lax about regulations, and PCVs were regularly allowed to go into Kampala and ride on Boda Boda’s. There were even stories about how PCVs would be allowed to hang out at the old Country Director’s house when he was away, and were given more or less free reign to act as they saw fit.

There were also many problems that plagued Peace Corps Uganda, and so Loucine came in and changed the program to have more regulations and structure in order to keep it afloat. With this also came new regulations. So far there we have been notified of four unbreakable rules that would lead to a PCV immediately being sent back to the United States:

  1. No riding on Boda Bodas
  2. No entering Kampala without express permission from Peace Corps
  3. No leaving country without notifying Peace Corps
  4. No getting into fights with Ugandans

These are not passive rules either, because PCVs have been sent home for violating these rules. The PCV at Nurse Betsy’s house, M, is being sent home for violating one of these reasons. He has given me permission of sharing his story with the world, and so I will do my best to give it in an unbiased manner.

He says that the downward slope to the entire Peace Corps experience started about 7 months ago on the anniversary on his arrival in country. He did not go into detail about the entire matter, but that was around the time when his parents came to visit him, and a lot of people had told him that maybe it was time for him to return back to the United States. But M was stubborn and decided to continue staying in Uganda despite the problematic circumstances. This instance led to a transfer from the school he was working in to an orphanage. From what I have gleaned, M was highly regarded by the Peace Corps workers, administration, his fellow PCVs, and the Ugandans he worked with. He was the only one in his current group who attained a high level of mastery in Luganda, and I was able to witness it firsthand during my ride down to Nurse Betsy’s house with Johnson.

He had also made significant changes in his community, such as the startup of a local farm that is now worth several million shillings. He has also integrated very well into his local communities, thanks in no small part to his language proficiency. Loucine herself has said the he was 1 out of 1000 in his ability to master the language at the level that he is at right now even before his two year mark. He was seen as one of the more shining examples of what a PCV could be, and people like Loucine, Ven, and Johnson were upset with the eventual outcome of his actions on Christmas Day. This past Christmas, he spent his time in his house and watched the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” right before one of the Ugandan orphans had asked him to go for a ride. M agrees and gets on the Boda Boda, and as they are driving it stalls near a policeman. M urges his friend to get it starting again, but is unable to and the policeman questions them. One thing leads to another, and the scene escalates and intensifies with M not liking how the policeman was acting. M resists arrest and subsequently spends Christmas night in a Ugandan jail.

Our paths just happened to cross at the Peace Corps Headquarters after his meeting with Loucine and other staff members. We are currently spending our second night at Nurse Betsy’s house on our laptops and recovering from our two very different ordeals. He has shared that a long time in Uganda has made him and so many other PCVs jaded, and I understand that that is a thing that can eventually happen to any of us.

I am in this for the long run and these past few days have only served to educate me more. M has said to continue his legacy and his proficiency with the language, and I will continue that to the best of my ability with my Luganda training.

And even in the depths of my pains this past week squatting in a pit latrine, I would look through the open roof and stare up at the starry skies and let Africa save me.

Giardia

December 5, 2013

Today was another good day. I woke up a little bit sleepy, but other than that I felt awesome because I was alive and my stomach was not aching. But today was the day that the medicine from last night fully kicked in and my cramps stopped.

It turns out that I had a case of Giardiasis for the past four days, which is a form of Traveller’s Diarrhea caused by the protozoan Giardia lamblia and can cause gastreoenteritis. If you want to know how Giardia feels like, imagine having intense cramps in the stomach and intestines every 20 minutes. These cramps feel as if someone had just intensely punched me in the stomach combined with feelings of bloating, diarrhea, loss of appetite, general tiredness, a fever, and chills. Giardia comes from ingesting fecally contaminated water, which I found weird because I did not remember recently ingesting any poop. Several others seemed to have also come down with similar symptoms of varying degrees, and it was surmised that perhaps the water from the sinks that we used to brush our teeth had contributed to it. Hilariously, I had been dealing with all of these symptoms for the past four days, and yesterday the pain had gotten to an unbearable point. I slept in through the medical sessions in the afternoon, and I was brought to my knees and would rest in the fetal position because the cramping in my stomach was so bad. I would have to just clench my hands around something because the cramping hurt so much.

I eventually called the PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Office) and described my symptoms. I was told by the Medical Officer that she would call around Shimoni and ask any of the Peace Corps Trainers if there was any medicine left by the medical staff. Serendipitously, one of the Trainers was out and about and was able to buy the medicine (I believe that it was Metronidazole at a pharmacy that was needed to cure my Giardia.

At this time, I had been lying on the concrete ground of our 5 person bedroom because it was comforting to be on something harder than the bed mattress. The cramps were so severe at this point that I had to plan my phone calls and movements during the down-time between my cramping sessions. Fortunately, I had a support group of my roommates who would check up on me, and one of them even gave me tips on how to be in a better fetal position. Obviously, I was very grateful to this person.

Ruvi Shimoni RainbowThen I got some sad news from one of my roommates; one of our fellow trainees had decided to early terminate and head back to the United States. She too had Giardia. I rallied, and headed to the main hall where I bid farewell to her and received my dosage of four pills of antibiotics that instantaneously quelled my cramps. It was a rough set of four days, but I rallied and made it through. The hardest part was having about one minute’s notice before I had to poop, and knowing that the water had shut off and the Turkish toilets could not flush. But this is a small part of the life that I live right now and as always life is good and I am well.