Mama Jude: An Australian Nurse’s Extraordinary Other Life In Africa

by Judy Steel

  Now when he saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, and he began to teach them saying: ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.’

  I feel the power of God very strongly every day in Uganda. It is one of the most wonderful things about being there.

  Regeneration and renewal was physical as well as spiritual. Overnight, two mamas gave birth. I took photos of them and one baby was almost pure white. It is a curious but common thing that babies in Uganda are born white and then darken over their first few days of life. One was so pretty, with wide alert eyes and a beautiful little mouth.

  The children had brought me to Uganda and they continued to sustain me. Little Judy is growing up tall, thin and gorgeous. I taught her ‘See you later alligator – in a while crocodile’, which would be a cue for her to collapse into gales of laughter. I just love her to bits. Each day at lunchtime I would swing her around and give her a peck on the cheek which she returned.

  Michele collected me at the hostel one evening for some Aussie food and company, and I was surprised and thrilled to see Suzan with her. She had grown quite tall and was now going to the Heywards’ school. She was having ongoing minor surgery in Kampala to release her keloid scarring to enable her to stand up straight. Hopefully one day she will be able to have full surgery so she can lead a more normal life.

  Beth’s sponsorship had been taken over by others and it was lovely to see her while visiting Frank and Michele. She had grown tall and willowy and was still at school, but wasn’t progressing. The plan was to try to protect her from unemployment and prostitution by keeping her at school as long as possible. She speaks English very well, is conscientious and can work in the house and cook meals, so I expect she will eventually find employment as a house girl.

  Before I left I went to Nakulabye to see Thomas. I bought him his first pair of long trousers and long-sleeved shirt, and he agreed they were ‘very fine indeed’. His mama manages a little stall selling vegetables and dried fish. Although she doesn’t understand English, we managed to communicate somehow. Thomas is getting taller and Alice says he is a nice boy, although every time she sees him he is grubby. School is not easy for him because of a learning difficulty, and it’s compounded by having no way of reading or writing when he comes home from school. Where he lives there is no quiet room, chair, desk or electricity. I hope he can learn enough to be able to get paid work when he is older. For now he is healthy and happy and surprisingly quiet when he is at school, considering the cheeky and boisterous three-year-old he was when we first met.

  There are so many heartbreaking stories and so much need, but sometimes I had to stop and remind myself that by the end of that year we expected to immunise 5000 children at the clinic for free. As well as that, their mamas can get education, health care and the chance to build a small business from a micro-loan and climb out of poverty.

  During one of our conversations, Edward shared his desire for the hospital and UACO to be merged into one entity. He dreams of the Busabala Road Hospital expanding its services to include an operating theatre, and when that is done to rename it and include UACO in the title. As part of his long-term plan he wants a percentage of any profits to be put into UACO so it becomes self-sustainable. One reason for uniting the two operations was to help ensure his own children would develop a heart for helping the poor, and to preserve the continuity of both the hospital and UACO if he should die tomorrow.

  There was a lot of good in what he said, but I was also concerned about the future management given that most of us on the Australian committee were getting older; I myself was now sixty-five. For the first time I started thinking seriously about who might look after UACO in the future.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  SEVERAL MONTHS AFTER RETURNING to Australia I received an email from Persis saying thirty-one members of the functional adult literacy (FAL) class had graduated at a ceremony organised by the Kampala City Council. It sounded like a typical Ugandan affair with plenty of speeches. UACO teacher Paul Lutalo was awarded a prize as the best FAL teacher in the district and won a scholarship to study at Makerere University. At the end of the formalities, the UACO students presented a poem written by another student, Rwomushana James, entitled ‘FAL – our hope, our future’.

  Oh FAL

  The mother of civilisation

  The second chance giver

  The builder of hope

  In you we survive

  Our future in your hands

  Reading or writing

  English you command

  Hygiene you teach

  The clean environment

  Families we plan

  Oh what joy you bring

  Happy are our families

  Which are functional

  Because of FAL

  FAL, you’re the man

  Lucky is he

  Lucky is she

  Who has FAL

  The future is bright

  If we needed any confirmation of how bright the future was, it came while collating information for a second application to AusAID. I was overwhelmed when I saw on paper what had been achieved in a single year: more than 4000 patients given free treatment, more than 7000 immunisations, and reduced incidents of malaria thanks to 600 treated mosquito nets. There were now eighty-six registered members of the HIV/AIDS club who received counselling, food supplements and medical care. The decreased mortality rate of those with the disease amazed us – it had been three years since the last client died.

  But there was even more than that. The walking clinic had expanded from five to eight zones, visiting almost seventy people at least once per month unless a change in their medical condition warranted more regular visits. There were seventy-eight students in the FAL class and another twenty on the waiting list. The youth group had almost fifty members who met on weekends and school holidays. Although the impact of the group is harder to measure, anecdotally it is making a difference through the reduction in crime and the spreading of good health messages. They also volunteer for walking clinics. The small loan scheme is only limited by the availability of funds; there is a waiting list of people wanting loans. The people we have helped have been able to change their lives, feed their children, pay their school fees and have an income, however small. They now have health care and hope for the future.

  It is a decade since I first stepped off the plane in Kampala on what I thought would be my one and only visit to Africa. I didn’t think I had much to offer because I hadn’t been a clinical nurse for thirteen years. My ability was in administration, though I always thought I had a degree in getting things done. I am so sure that if I had any idea what lay ahead I would never have even gone the first time. But God’s plans for me have often been surprising, almost sneaky. Here I am a decade later and I wouldn’t have missed one moment.

  So where to from here? Edward has specialist doctors begging him to build an operating theatre for them to use. If that happens then those registered as members of UACO will continue to receive free treatment, including surgery, physiotherapy and rehabilitation. This is my dream and the focus for the next stage of my life. If we can raise $350,000 we can have that theatre. I am convinced it will happen.

  The people who have impacted on UACO and my life are mostly still heavily involved. The first chairman of the youth group, Ronnie, did pay off his loan and is now married. Bosco continues from strength to strength and is now managing his life and his income. Although Godfrey will always struggle with his disability, I love him dearly and admire his courage and spirit – no-one lights up a room with a smile like him. Persis continues to manage the outreach in her calm, professional and gentle way; I cherish her love and friendship. Daniel is setting new goals for UACO in the community and everyone looks to him for care
and advice.

  Edward and Rose are my Ugandan family. Without an almost chance meeting with Edward on my first visit, I am sure I wouldn’t have returned. Their love and care for me over the years has enabled me to achieve what I have. I think I am finally getting to the time of my life when I have to stop and consider the needs of my family as well as my own health. I can’t ever imagine not being involved with UACO but I do know in the coming years it will be time to hand over the reins.

  For some time I felt that Iva was the ideal person to take over. We think alike on so many matters, plus she has a heart for Uganda and its people and wants to make a difference. When we were together in Busabala in 2008 I posed the question, and she agreed to take on the role one day – neither of us knows when that day will be. What I want her to do until then is be my shadow on the next trip to see how she finds it.

  I have watched Iva grow from a quiet, slightly nervous person on her first visit into a woman of courage. I know that she can make the hard decisions. This is tempered with gentleness that Ugandans have come to love. She once said to me, ‘I might be too soft.’ I smiled at her. ‘You’ll learn. I did!’

  Photographic Inserts

  Me, aged 18 months, in Adelaide.

  With Dad — a beautiful human being who I never heard complain about his debilitating illness.

  The family at Nangwarry in 1957. I am top left, Elaine on the right, Mum, Dad and Robert in front.

  I began my career as a very green young nurse at the Royal Adelaide Hospital in 1961.

  Wedding Day, 22 February 1965.

  What I call my postcard from heaven. We were stranded by floods on the Strzelecki Track in outback South Australia. It was an experience that changed the direction of my life.

  Freddie was brought into the Nakulabye clinic with pneumonia in 1999. I treated him often and he captured my heart. Both he and his mother were HIV positive and died of AIDS.

  William is ten months old and weighs 3.5 kilograms — this is why I was called to Uganda.

  With Anna-Mary and Beth.

  At the Nakulabye clinic where I did my Ugandan apprenticeship. In the centre is Thomas, who shouted out one day when I arrived ‘Mama Jude loves me’. It was true.

  Saying goodbye to Rita, who died of AIDS a few days after this was taken. I grew to hate the disease and what it did to beautiful people.

  With Alice Zalawango, who ran the Florence Nightingale Clinic at Nakulabye, a slum area of Kampala.

  My final day at the Nakulabye clinic, holding a baby in my arms and surrounded by children — the vision that had brought me to Africa was fulfilled. Alice Zalawango is behind my right shoulder.

  Suzan was badly burnt when she fell into a charcoal fire as a toddler. We were able to arrange treatment and surgery, but she needs ongoing care.

  Anthony with four of the six great-grandchildren he looks after. All the generations in between have been wiped out by AIDS. He earns money by carting water.

  On the last day of my first visit I was asked to name a newborn baby. I chose to call him Gillies. He was one of four baptised that day and was a beautiful reminder of life regenerating amid so much death.

  Florence and Ronald, who both succumbed to AIDS.

  The container arriving with 26 tonnes of medical equipment and supplies donated from Australia. It was the first of three major shipments that fitted out Edward’s hospital.

  With Dr Edward Ssembatya the day the first container arrived in 2001. I will never forget the look on his face as the equipment for his hospital was unloaded.

  The first container to arrive is placed in position. Here I am with Nurse Recheal, who is holding Edward’s youngest child, Judy.

  After being emptied, the shipping container was converted into a health clinic on the hospital grounds.

  Busabala Road Hospital and Clinic, which was built by Edward Ssembatya, using his own money.

  Dancing with the AIDS widows on the verandah of the clinic. Although originally a primary health care centre, the clinic has become a focus of community life.

  Bukenya is a brilliant, honest accountant who makes sure every shilling is accounted for.

  With Edward and my husband, Allan, in front of the clinic built from the shipping container.

  Little did I know that my experience with pigs in the Adelaide Hills would later be important in Uganda. Many small loans were used by widows and young people to buy pigs and a thriving business began.

  One of the widows, Ruth, has proved quite an entrepreneur. With her first micro-loan she had a tap plumbed and sold water to neighbours. Since then she has added a chicken farm and extended her house for renting.

  The micro-loans have had an extraordinary effect on people’s lives, allowing women to start businesses selling charcoal or, as shown here, matoke (made from plantain). They can then afford to feed and educate their children.

  Jane and her daughter Patricia with their pig, bought with a micro-loan. Jane’s husband had been a successful trader until he was murdered in Tanzania. Pig farming provides her with a chance to earn some money again.

  I met Godfrey on a walking clinic. He had been paralysed for 15 years and over time was able to get out of his chair and walk with help. When I knelt, in a Ugandan sign of respect, to serve him lunch at a UACO celebration day, the crowd heaved with emotion.

  The Order of Australia I received from South Australian Governor Marjorie Jackson-Nelson at Government House, Adelaide 2006.

  Wash day Uganda style — me with my twin tub!

  ‘Walking clinics’ through the villages and slums always produced unexpected moments of delight.

  One of the AIDS widows rents a one metre square section of the clinic verandah, where she runs a sewing business.

  Dr Edward Ssembatya and me — founders of UACO.

  The clinic verandah is packed with mamas for one of the regular health education sessions.

  AIDS often leaves the very old having to care for the very young. This young girl has only her great-grandmother to look after her.

  The funding from the Australian Government through AusAID was celebrated with a march through the streets of Kampala to the sounds of a brass band. It delayed the traffic, including the car of the Vice-President.

  A ‘walking clinic’ in Nakulabye. These are home visits to the sick and elderly who are unable to come to the clinic for treatment. At first we could only reach those who lived near the clinic, but now the staff go further afield.

  The youth group in 2008 with Iva, Persis, Edward, me and Anthony.

  Johnson and Pauline on their wedding day. Although both have AIDS, their marriage was celebrated in true Ugandan style with much dancing.

  Iva Quarisa has a beautiful heart for people and she is like the Pied Piper when she visits Uganda. My hope is that one day she will take over the running of UACO.

  Acknowledgements

  BEFORE FIRST VISITING UGANDA I had been planning my retirement, and one idle dream was to learn how to smock so I could make dresses for my granddaughters. When putting this book together I asked my daughter, Fiona, for a title suggestion, and she came back without a second thought: ‘So much for smocking!’ Although the title didn’t make it, in the process of writing I have become intensely aware of how many people either directly or indirectly have been involved.

  Reverend Dr Gillies Ambler, my spiritual guide and dear friend, taught me how to reach out to God and understand this change in my life and my call to Uganda. Emeritus Professor Anthony Radford’s wisdom and training prepared me for Africa.

  The UACO committee in South Australia encouraged and supported me, in particular Fred Wilson and his wife, Ailee. Fred has been treasurer from the start and I am sure he had no idea what this was going to involve. I have been overwhelmed at the constancy of love and support of the congregations of Port Elliot and Westbourne Park Uniting churches. The Quarisa family of Griffith became intricately involved in UACO and I will forever be grateful for their love and friendship.

  Ri
chard Hearn, CEO of Resthaven in South Australia, started me down the long road of collecting equipment for the hospital and clinic. The Kiwanis Club of Adelaide purchased and prepared the two containers which became UACO Central. The organisations and private donors who donated equipment for the various containers are too numerous to mention, but their generosity and assistance enabled the hospital to be completed and the clinic to function. The gift of an ambulance by St John Ambulance Australia SA Inc. is incalculable. The Australian Government through its international aid agency AusAID has allowed us to expand our services.

  Thank you is such an inadequate reward for those who have donated money and continue to do so. You are the soul of UACO.

  In Uganda, my thanks to Frank and Michele Heyward for their love and friendship and the opportunity to ‘eat and speak’ Australian from time to time. My dear friend Judy Howe from Canada shared her house, hopes, love and laughter with me.

  I would have never seen the distance without the love and support of Dr Edward Ssembatya and his wife, Rose, my Ugandan family. Edward heads up a loyal and committed team in Uganda, in particular Persis, who manages the outreach, and Bukenya, the financial manager of the hospital and UACO. Without their loyalty and service UACO simply would not exist.

  From the start of my journey to Uganda I have kept daily journals, not knowing one day they would become a book. It is completely due to Michael Sexton that this book has become a reality. Although many people in the past have said I should write it, I never considered it for a moment until Michael said he would like to have a go at a chapter. I treasure Michael’s friendship, professionalism and expertise. I cannot thank him enough. The book was enthusiastically supported by Karen Penning at ABC Books and sensitively and constructively edited by Simone Ford.