A storm brewing…

The last week has flown by with worrying speed but I wanted to grapple a few things out of the whirlwind and pin them down…

Malaika Revisits…

I have been fortunate enough to get back  out on the road to see once more a few Malaika Babies Home children I’d visited on previous home visits. I wrote some time ago about the little lad who lived with family in a dirt floor hut in Mityana, and how he cried when we left. Our Head Social Worker and I went back to see him and the family, and was happy to hear he was now going to school. We took him for a quick check up at the Surgery, our Practice of choice in Kampala, run by the renowned Dr Stockley. The little boy was still very solemn. The fact he had to have few blood tests did not endear us to him. We sweetened him with a trip to the refined Rocks and Roses cafe next door for a glass of milk and some divine honey on nutty bread. Still – when we dropped him back home this time there were no tears. A great sign. We waved the little chief and his family goodbye and got in the car. It wouldn’t start.

Breaking down is usually no real biggie – you just call the AA, or the equivalent and they come and sort you out. There is no such thing out here.  And we were out in the sticks. I enlisted the help of a few passersby to help me push the heavy as lead 4×4. No joy. We then paid a local – seemingly drunk and with jitters – to help us find a local mechanic. He wobbled off into the sunset with 5000ugx. The sky was darkening, and a wind began to whip up. A storm was coming.

We waited. Another local came upon us. This lady was also drunk and happy about it. She began to beg from us – not for money, but for a drink. ‘Nedda, nyabo’, we said. We have nothing, madam. She finally got bored and also trundled away, to our relief. Another man approached us with a smile, this time not drunk, but with a hand out. Where was our mechanic?!

looking healthy at Elizabeth Hse

Some 50 mins later, a boda turns up ferrying a man in work clothes. Our mechanic had turned up! Also drunk. Another truck approached then stopped, unable to get passed us as we straddled the entire dirt track. Thankfully, they ran two batteries, and with the help of the mechanic (who mercifully still seemed to have most faculties about him), a few dangerous looking sparks and a screwdriver, they got the engine running. Just in time, as huge blobs of rain began to descend and the sky grew ever darker… We bolted for home.

Just yesterday I went back to Elizabeth House to revisit our precious boy with cerebral palsy who had come into Malaika Babies Home emaciated and on the point of death. Elizabeth House takes care of disabled children in wonderfully green and open grounds. When we arrived, our young one was sat in a soft chair looking spiffy – and fat! Though he had done well at Malaika House and come to a healthy weight, he is now chubby. He no longer needs a drip to take food, and is looking in great shape. Such a relief to see him thriving.

The North South divide

the obligatory picture

Some colleagues and I decided we wanted to go be tourists and go take a trip to the equator. It lies quite near to Kampala– about 90 mins by car. We decided to go get the obligatory picture, lunch and a good coffee from the cafe we were told lay near. We arrived at the Equator –  somewhat disappointing two concrete rings on either side of the road to mark it. We parked the car outside the cafe – teeming with mzungus (of course) and suddenly felt very self conscious and a little foolish. After driving all that way, we sped through two pictures each, mortified to be there composing silly poses. 30 seconds after arriving, we were done and off to the cafe for lunch to hide our embarrassment behind a face full of chapatti chips and guacamole.

 

Here comes the rain again…

This last week has seen a dramatic change in the weather. I don’t want to end a blog on something as mundane as the weather, but that’s just it. Here, the weather isn’t

rain washed away the road..

mundane. It isn’t pedestrian. It’s intense and severe. The week began with an earthquake. And, after months of stifling, coma inducing heat, we are now sheltering from incredible downpours. Rain that turns the streets into rivers, and washes away tarmac. Rain that brings bugs, lots of bugs, and gives you goose bumps. Will the wall fall over? Will the car make it up the road? Will this boda slip out from under us and splay us in the mud? This ties into the madness in Japan, and the quake in Christchurch. It’s all so unsettling and a little bit biblical.  It’s strange this turn is happening now – just a few weeks before I go home. It’s like working in a grey London in February all over again. And all the staff are subdued. The power of the sun. Of predictably good weather. I hope there’s some on my return to see me back into real life gently…