by Judy Steel
Word of UACO continued to spread. Channel Nine’s A Current Affair featured a story in July 2001 on the project which included pictures of the arrival of the container and an interview with me. Again viewers rang with financial donations. One young woman in Darwin named Fiona Stanley watched the program and immediately said, ‘I am going to go there one day.’ Two years later she would indeed arrive in Najjanankumbi and be inspired by the walking clinic, the bravery of the widows and the dedication of Edward and his staff. She wrote that it changed her life forever. Although I have spoken to her on the phone and corresponded via email, unfortunately we have never met.
There was also some unexpected interest from the corporate world when Bonds Australia asked if we would like some excess baby clothes. The label on them had to be altered and they considered it cheaper to write the clothes off than replace the labels. Naturally I couldn’t say no and our house was soon inundated with more than 2000 tiny outfits. At the same time we received a lovely donation of 168 soft woollen toys made by Julie Lomax and her band of willing helpers from Redhead in New South Wales who’d heard about UACO and wanted to help.
We discovered the best way to ship the clothing and toys was inside four large, steel drums. We packed the clothes, soft toys plus five pairs of donated second-hand Adelaide Crows football boots for the youths. How I wished that I had twenty pairs. The drums didn’t have as smooth a ride to Uganda as the container they were in was ‘lost’ on the wharf at Mombasa in Kenya for several weeks. After much delay and many discussions with the customs authorities, the drums made their way to Kampala and were released to Edward at the hospital. Each clinic day, Florence was able to distribute clothes to mothers who had nothing for their little ones. Some of the soft toys given out were the first these children had ever had. The donation also helped break down barriers by encouraging new mothers to bring their babies to the clinic. In addition to receiving a clothing handout they could get advice, counselling, education and treatment if required.
While UACO continued to grow in Uganda, I was at home eagerly awaiting news of David and Jodi’s first child, due in January 2002. As I prepared for Christmas in my comfortable home my heart wandered to Uganda and the people of Najjanankumbi. They wouldn’t be inundated with advertisements for the latest toys or people asking what they wanted for Christmas. Most of them didn’t even have electricity let alone a radio or television.
My anticipation of returning to Africa in March was heightened by Allan’s decision to join me for the final fortnight. At last he would be able to meet Edward and see all the work that had gone into making UACO happen.
Donations continued to come in, and it was encouraging that many Australians returned with further donations when they heard of the progress. We started publishing a newsletter three times a year to bring donors up-to-date and explain how their money had been used. Westbourne Park Church paid for the photocopying so the only cost we had was the postage. Fred Wilson largely took responsibility for the production of the newsletter along with all the accounting. The Executive Edward had formed in Uganda made the decisions on budget needs and we gave him the amount he needed. Both Edward and Bukenya managed the funds with total honesty. After the exhaustion and self-doubt I felt leaving last time, I realised I didn’t have to carry the weight of this alone. I had friends to help and certainly friends in Uganda could manage. I felt a load was lifting from my shoulders.
On the eve of my return to Uganda, an eight-year-old girl from Clare in South Australia’s mid-north gave us a beautiful donation. Melinda Grigg had heard about the children at the clinic and had collected small soft toys as gifts. Some were her own much-loved collection, some were from her friends and some she had bought with her own pocket money. Her family drove to Adelaide to deliver the toys and they were the last thing I packed.
Chapter Fifteen
DURING THE FLIGHT, the clouds parted to reveal a wonderful view of Africa. Lake Victoria was dotted with islands and I could see fishing boats hauling in their catches. I had carried Melinda’s large bag of soft toys on as hand luggage and there was no interest in it from customs as I walked through into the arms of Edward, Rose and little Judy. Edward was full of questions: How was the trip? How is Allan? How are the members of our church? How is Reverend Gillies?
I was warmly greeted by staff at the Namirembe Resource Centre Hostel, and the Pentecostal church over the road was still in fine form. Despite mixing with other guests, I felt a bit lonely remembering the previous year when I shared with Judy Howe. Judy had returned to Canada after several years in uganda; her mother was ageing, and Judy herself had some medical problems which needed specialist care in Canada. She hasn’t yet returned to Africa but it is passionately in her heart to do so some day.
Edward brought me up to speed on what had been going on over the past nine months. There had been a few staff changes in the hospital: one nurse was sacked for stealing medication while two others were away at training. Florence was a wonderful administrator and it was a delight to have her monthly reports showing what was being achieved and at what cost.
Edward had renovated his original tiny hospital for educational uses such as meetings and lectures, and maternity was moved from there into the new building. The top floor of the new hospital was not yet ready for patients as there was still some work left to do, but it was useful for meetings and training. It was disappointing to see all the trees and plants the gardener put in last year had been eaten by the goats which roam freely in and out of the grounds. That would stop when we had enough money to have gates installed
The training room upstairs was being used regularly for medical seminars as well as for other community issues, including policing. The only problem was that when large numbers of people packed into the room it quickly became an oven. I bought some fans which were similar to the ones in the clinic, and once installed they made a huge difference.
Although Edward was good at getting things done, even he suffered the perennial frustrations of Uganda, such as people saying they would come to work and not turning up. He also struggled at times to finance the renovations because he was paying about A$1500 per term in school fees for all the children he had taken responsibility for. As they grew older, they needed to go to boarding school. He could, of course, raise more money by increasing his medical charges, but he is committed to bringing health care to all. His patients pay 5000 shillings ($3.50) per night, plus the cost of medication. Other hospitals in Kampala charged more than five times that, and the International Hospital ten times, plus a tax of 17 per cent to cover electricity, water and cleaning. Edward doesn’t charge the very poor but, in Robin Hood style, adds 10 per cent on for those who can afford it to make up for those who cannot. He had other business dealings that supplemented his income, including property he owned up country where his ageing father lived. He farmed cattle and matoke there and whenever Edward visited him he would return with a car groaning with produce.
It wasn’t only the hospital that had been growing. I had got to know the Canadian consul in Uganda and he had instigated the donation of six cows for the widows’ association. The women had weekly lectures in animal husbandry and soon were milking their cows, feeding their children and selling off the excess milk to make a little money. UACO financed the building of some sheds so the cows weren’t stolen. Following this success, the widows applied to the Canadian consulate for eight in-calf heifers to fill up the sheds. Edward looked all over Uganda for good stock, eventually getting them through a friend whose brother ran a large dairy. They were very good quality, and the anticipation built when they got close to delivering calves. Edward bought two litres of milk each day from one of the widows, who lived closest, for about 1000 shillings (70 cents). The agreement was that the widows pay the project back 5000 shillings each month for their cow, which went into an account for expenses such as artificial insemination, drugs and vet fees. The first female calf born was given to the next widow in line. The male calves were sold when six
months old and the money put into the account. The first cowshed I visited was immaculate and the cow’s name was Gift, as in a gift from God.
Inevitably, some of the widows who had cows died. When this happened the others agreed to offer a $20 comfort fee to the family. In Uganda, it is very important to be able to bury the dead with dignity and this allowed the death to be dealt with properly.
The youth group had grown to about fifty members. They were getting organised in quite a big way, going out and talking to other youths about HIV/AIDS and life skills. I also noticed that they could teach a lot of others about manners and respect. After the success of the football team, I used a donation from a Westbourne Park church member Mary Matthews to fund a cabbage-growing project and to buy them a volleyball set. This meant the girls as well as the boys could play sport.
The mother of three of the youths died from AIDS, so Florence and Ronnie (chair of the youth group) organised food, firewood and a coffin for the funeral. The family had already lost their father and a nine-year-old child to AIDS. It is the custom to give a donation towards the cost of the burial so UACO gave two bags of cement, the amount required to close the grave.
The lead-up to Easter that week was stifling as the wet season set in, with hot days followed by heavy rain at night. Good Friday was my first chance to return to All Saints Cathedral. The church was full and the service was based on the seven times that Jesus spoke from the Cross. The choir sang ‘God So Loved the World’ and then later, unaccompanied, ‘Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen’. They also sang in Luganda, a piece about Peter denying Jesus. All were breathtakingly beautiful and left me feeling very close to God.
The Easter Sunday service was also special with everyone enthusing, ‘Jesus is alive! He is risen!’ Edward picked me up afterwards and we went to his house for a wonderful Ugandan meal of chicken, matoke, luwombo (ground peanut sauce with mushrooms cooked slowly in a banana leaf), pumpkin, rice, cabbage, Irish potatoes and sweet potatoes. I gave the family the presents I had brought with me from Australia and they were so excited. When Edward saw his tie, he asked, ‘Is it from him?’ (meaning Allan). He thought it was very, very fine. Although Edward hadn’t met Allan he had enormous respect for him allowing me to come to Africa to work. By Ugandan standards it was a big thing Allan had done.
After lunch, Edward went back to the hospital and the rest of us piled in the car and drove to a resort on the lake not far out of town. It was lovely and cool and many were swimming in the large pool. Rose and I had grown to understand each other well and we had many long conversations about life and occasionally how to deal with men. We were walking back toward the car while the other members of the family were several metres behind us, when a security utility raced past with six men in it, guns drawn. They stopped to push a man and woman into the back with lots of screaming. I grabbed little Judy and we ran out of the way. The man who was thrown into the car was calling out that he was a citizen of the USA, but Rose found out days later that he was armed and the pair were thieves. The car sped off with them on the floor of the ute and the six heavies on top. Such events are accepted in Uganda. Stray bullets have killed innocent people in the past, so we got out of there, fast.
Although I had been in Uganda for a week, Easter Monday was my official welcome back day at UACO, but first I went to Nakulabye to see Alice and little Thomas. I was keen to see the mamas and check if their babies were thriving. As I walked through the slums I could hear some young men calling out, ‘Mama Jude is back.’ When Alice saw me she went bananas, and then children came from everywhere calling out, Mzungu Judy – she is here.’ I had to cuddle twenty children all at once. Thomas was taller and still a little larrikin. Not much had changed and there were still many, many people dying from AIDS. There was also an extraordinary number of newborns.
After a cup of tea, a chapati and some fruit shopping at the market, I headed for Najjanankumbi. My goodness, what a party had been arranged! Everyone involved in UACO was at the clinic, with the exception of the old people who were too infirm to get to the clinic. First of all, everyone started ululating and dancing with me. Then there were items by the orphans, the young women, the young men and the widows. They acted out their life predicaments and how UACO has made a difference. When two little orphan boys sang and danced, I was quite misty eyed, first with sadness and then with joy. The women sang and danced to welcome me and I finished up dancing with them, which gave them more cause for ululating. They kept saying it was not a day for speech making, but somehow the speeches flowed. In response I brought greetings from the church and my husband, and they went berserk when they heard Allan was coming to meet them in a few weeks.
The next morning Edward and I worked in the clinic seeing the refugees, who were excited to see us too. The children had grown so much and more had been born. I saw one who was just twenty-three hours old, so I took the opportunity to speak to the parents about family planning. The refugees’ problems were still the same and all because of their circumstances. Father Michael said there were now sixty-two adults and sixty-seven children living in the house.
Days in the clinic were hard and we often worked five-hour stints, only stopping for a drink of water. The weather was oppressive and cooling rains were rare and only at night. Women and children often waited for hours outside the clinic in the blazing sun as the verandah was too small, so we used UACO funds to extend it which made an enormous difference to everyone’s comfort. UACO, through donations from Australia, paid for gates to be built at the compound, which made Edward ecstatic. Only a few days before someone had tried to break into the maternity ward so we added barbed wire around the top of the fence.
The first walking clinic was wonderful, seeing all my jajas and meeting some new ones. Some had died in the past year, but it was so exciting to see Bosco standing out of his wheelchair and walking a few steps. We organised a walking frame so he could get around his little room a bit better.
There were lots of children roaming the streets of Najjanankumbi; they should have been at school but there was no money for fees. Lots of the little ones had colds and runny noses. I found it difficult walking up and down the hills in Najjanankumbi as my hip started aching and I was feeling the full effects of the humidity, but the reception from the people enthused me. Florence had bought soap and vaseline which we handed out along with sugar. Bosco said sugar was the best thing anyone could give him.
One of my old, old women named Sisi saw me from a distance through the door of her house. She had badly swollen legs and could only just walk, was quite dirty and her house was in a state. In spite of all my best attempts at persuasion, she refused to bathe. She said she was too weak to do anything, but her feet had dirt on them from when she had been digging in her garden. I explained to the widows that sometimes we just have to respect the wishes of a person to live the sort of life they do. Sisi said she had not always been like this, and that when she was younger she helped to raise the kabaka (king). We gave her a bar of soap in hope.
The workload started taking its toll and my hip now hurt all the time. I couldn’t sit for very long and it hurt to lie on my left side. Edward gave me some anti-inflammatory capsules but they made little difference. Eventually Edward insisted I see a mzungu doctor, an Englishman who diagnosed a pinched nerve in my spine. He prescribed some anti-inflammatory pills and stretching exercises. After a few days my aches eased, but I was still undecided about whether to go on the walking clinic or not. Then I thought to myself, I didn’t come over here to sit on my butt. We walked for what seemed an eternity that day, up and down in the oppressive heat, and I didn’t suffer any ill effects. I found out after my return home that I had developed bursitis, an inflammation of the joint.
One morning Recheal, the nurse from the Florence Nightingale Clinic whose training I was sponsoring, joined me on a walking clinic. I was impressed with her confident and gentle manner. I gave her four text books for her training and some new clothes, and she wrote me a beautiful
letter of welcome and thanksgiving, not just for what I was doing for her but for the people of Uganda.
As we walked around the village there were many sick jajas, but they were always excited to see us. We went into their homes and sat while these dear old women went around and greeted everyone on their knees. I knew it was the custom but still found it difficult to allow an old woman to do this. On this clinic I also found two toddlers, both aged about two, both suffering as a result of inept injections given to them at a small clinic somewhere in Najjanankumbi. I made a note to speak to Edward about how we could counter this sort of malpractice.
On another walking clinic we found great-grandfather Anthony again. Last time he was caring for six children, but this time he was alone and it was hard to find out what had happened to the children. He was almost blind, with cataracts on both eyes, and so could only move about in his immediate environment. We took him some food, soap and vaseline, and his face lit up. He was so excited and grateful.
One day I met a tiny jaja named Noellina who was paralysed from the waist down. She moved by dragging herself along the ground with her hands; her palms looked like the heels of her feet and her knees were badly calloused. She was sitting in the dirt (which was mud, because it had been raining) trying to wash her clothes because she had diarrhoea.
I found a young woman named Prossy nearby who rented a room in Noellina’s house, and she said that another woman bathes her on the weekend. I asked Prossy how much rent she paid and said the answer was 5000 shillings per month (A$4.50). I told her she was getting very cheap rent and that it would be a good idea if she took care of the old woman. For this I got a shrug of the shoulders and a response that she gave the old woman one meal a day. I saw the pile of rags on the floor where Noellina slept while someone else slept on the large bed in the same filthy room. By this time my nurse from the hospital was in tears, but I was too angry to cry. I kept on working away at Prossy and she agreed she could take better care of the old woman and that she would bathe her in the middle of the week. I left drugs for Noellina to clear up the diarrhoea.
