Farewell Kihefo!

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The final days in Kabale were starting to count down, before all of us MUST students would have to pack up our things, say our goodbyes, and head back to Mbarara. Work at the Kihefo clinic continued to be slow, and Leandra still had only seen one child admitted to the nutrition clinic the entire month we were there, so we decided to take matters into our own hands. After hearing the insanely disorganized and chaotic stories from the other U of S girls at the Rugazi clinic – dirty equipment, lack of supplies, severe acute cases, even helping deliver babies – we decided we need to see another hospital. So Monday morning we put on our lab coats, paraded up to the Kabale general hospital and walked in, pretending we were supposed to be there. If this clinic is anything like the rest of Uganda, we'll have no problem making our way around without issues and having no one ask any questions. And that is actually largely what happened.



Leandra and I just wandered from ward to ward, and checking out what kind of cases were going on. One of the first things we noticed was there were people lying on mattresses all over the hospital grounds. Because hospitals are few and far between, and it can take many hours, or days, for people in rural communities to walk to one, they often just camp out on the hospital grounds until they can see a doctor. Pregnant women try to come to the hospital a few days, sometimes a week or more, before their due date so they are near a hospital in case they go into labour. In the maternity and labour ward we ran into a couple Canadian midwives we met a few days earlier and they offered to give us a more “official” tour. Kate, one of the midwives, mostly showed us around the wards she's involved in, including the pediatrics wing. Just as we were walking through, we learned that a child had just died and they were wrapping up the body; we never did find out what happened. After our “tour”, Leandra and I went back to pediatrics to look at the nutritional status of some of the children. And as we suspected, most were incredibly malnourished. One way of knowing this is by looking at the colour of the hair. Typically, black African children should have black hair (obviously), but if they are severely malnourished the hair won't produce proper pigment, and will look blonde. In some of the older toddlers, a prominent, distended belly is also a pretty clear indication of inadequate nutrition, although it could also be due to parasites. As we were looking around, we saw what we thought was the dead baby from earlier. The toddler slowly blinked, and after talking with a nurse, we learned he was dying of pneumonia and diarrhea. The poor baby had his family with him at the time, but appeared completely lifeless and incoherent. According to the nurse he had been doing much better since being put on oxygen, but I don't think he was going to make it.



The following day, I woke up feeling incredibly sick with a bad head cold. I'd say there are very few things that can make a person miss home quite like being sick, but fortunately for me I had an incredible Ugandan family at Kihefo to take care of me! Patricia, one of the cooks, who despite the fact that we call each other “sister”, was like a mother to Leandra and I. When she found out I was sick she insisted that I drink lots of tea with lemon and honey – exactly what I do when I'm sick, and what my own mother would do for me if I were at home. The remainder of the day I mostly stayed in bed drinking my body weight in tea while getting checked in on by my classmates and the Kihefo staff periodically to make sure I didn't have malaria.



This is a good point to talk about how sweet and kind the Ugandan people I've met are. They've been so hospitable, and helpful whenever we've needed anything – teaching us the tricks to hand washing clothes, cooking us special little meals just because, helping us to organize all our weekend trips, and so much more. The Monday after us four mountain hikers returned we were so incredibly sore, and apparently “walking like robots”, so Immaculate took some muscle rub from the clinic and gave us all amazing leg massages! It felt SO good, and actually helped us to walk better the next day! Plus everyone here is so warm and friendly, and they always hug! And if you know me, I'm a big fan of hugs! Also, interestingly enough, Ugandans say “sorry” more than Canadians! Every time you trip or stumble, or drop something they say “sorry”, even if they had nothing to do with the incident. It's kind of adorable.



Anyways, it was a good thing I spent the day resting up as on Wednesday we would have our busiest day at Kihefo. As a team, both the MUST and American students, as well as Kihefo staff, would go out to the community to set up a health camp in the local church. Note: this church is what I referred to as a school in the previous blog where we built the tippy-tap. I believe it doubles as a school some times, as there are children EVERYWHERE and I could hear them practising their ABC's. Sadly though, the tippy tap we built was taken down which was a huge disappointment for the team.



Upon arrival Leandra and I were greeted by her mother-in-law, who gave us each a big hug and didn't appear intoxicated this time. As well, my “daughter” came running up to me as soon as she saw me walking up, and after she said her hellos she brought some of her friends to come meet me. This little girl is just so sweet and has the cutest little voice, but I just wish I could understand a damn thing that came out of her mouth, or at least understand her name. She continued to follow me around and hold my hand. . . while simultaneously holding a half eaten sucker in the same hand, until the clinic got started. Thank god for Purell.



For the health camp we set up several different stations: family planning/maternal health, dentistry, an eye exam station, HIV/AIDS counselling, a lab, pharmacy, and general practice. And huge thanks to Ronald for sharing his photos of the health camp with Leandra and I, so I can share them with all of you! I initially spent most of my time at the family planning station where I explained (with a translator) why it is bad to smoke/chew tobacco while pregnant, and learned how to age a baby in the womb. I was really hoping for some patients to come in asking about pregnancy prevention methods, but all the women we saw were preggers. I also spent a fair amount of time at the dental station watching bloody and painful looking teeth extractions. There, I played the role of assistant, holding the flashlight (keep in mind no electricity in the community) so the dentist could see inside the mouth and I would pass her instruments as she needed them. Although, we did use lidocaine, the patients were visibly in pain but were so stoic and tried not to show it. The exception being the children. One little girl, who I wish I could forget, let out the most blood curdling screams as they tried to take her tooth; literally sending a chill up my spine. The last part of the day I sat in and observed all of the more potentially serious cases that were referred specifically to Dr. Anguyo, which included everything from tumours, to severe pain, to a rectal prolapse. One thing I forgot to mention in previous blogs about the heath care here is that doctors just treat the symptoms of disease, not the underlying disease itself. A very simple example being, if a person comes in with pain, they will prescribe painkillers, rather than determining the underlying cause of the pain. Other than simple tests such as blood, urine, x-rays and ultrasounds, most patients don't have access to anything more advanced as they are only available in the larger cities, with many patients not being able to afford to make the trip there.



The most memorable patient I saw was a one year old extreme malnourishment case. The mother brought in the tiniest baby, with blonde hair, who seemed completely incoherent. Sadly, the mother is a known drunk in the village, and was also quite intoxicated at the health camp. We also found out that she has already lost two other children to malnourishment and neglect. Since we weren't sure if the mother understood what we were trying to explain to her, we sought out other family members for help. Eventually, we found the aunt and told her the severity of the situation, and really pushed for someone to bring the baby to the nutrition centre in Kabale the next day for help. Shockingly the next day, the mother did bring the baby in and after an assessment we learned that she was only 4.9kg. Reminder, this baby was only one year old! To make matters worse, she also was suffering from what appeared to be a mental handicap, or at the very least severe cognitive developmental problems. Her eyes would frequently roll to the back of her head, and she struggled to keep her head up when we would talk to her. Not to speculate what the cause was, but I'm guessing that heavy drinking during pregnancy and while breastfeeding didn't help the situation. Unfortunately, the mother didn't want to stay at the clinic for treatment so we sent her home with some nutritional supplement foods, asking her to come back in a couple days. I have since heard from the some of the American girls still at Kihefo, and the baby has not been back to the clinic at the time of writing, a week later.



After many hours and about 200 patients, the health camp came to a close and we all went back to the Kihefo residence. Tonight was going to be a special night for the rest of the MUST students, as it was time for Leandra and I to prepare our “Canadian Dinner” for them. Tonight's menu: deviled eggs, poutine, and beaver tails (aka elephant ears) for dessert. Now, I know what you're all thinking, “Poutine? But Sarah, you're a vegetarian!” Yes, we used powdered “beef stock”, BUT I justified it because beef was one of the last ingredients in the stock, and the week prior I found out the cooks used it in their beans pretty much everyday. It didn't have enough beef in it to make me sick yet, so I just rolled with it during my time here. Anyways, we had hoped to make perogies since I'm part Polish and Leandra is Ukrainian, but we had to cut that out due to time. And good thing we did because cooking over coals takes FOREVER! Despite having to eat a little later than usual, I would say the meal was a huge success! Leandra and I were absolutely stuffed after the meal, and the Ugandans appeared to have liked it. Well, most of it. They were huge fans of the “devil's” eggs, as they preferred to call them, and they raved about the beaver tails. The poutine, however, not so much. Apparently, people here don't really like cheese. Oh well, I'll consider two out of three to be a win.



The following day would sadly be our last day at Kihefo. They threw us a really massive supper, and invited all of the Kihefo and clinic staff, complete with farewell speeches and a DJ to throw us a dance party at the end. Before I go into my terrible dance moves, I want to say again how Kihefo took us in and treated us like family. I really am going to miss everyone at this organization so much and I really hope I am able to come back and visit some day.



Anyways, I had no idea how bad of a dancer I was (and all you Canadians back home are too) until I danced with Africans! They have so many moves and the rhythm to match every beat. Us whities just flail around hoping to match the music maybe some of the time, and if we can't we just drink until we think we can. Oh, and they can twerk like no one's business!! And no, I didn't learn how to, however I may have tried. After dancing at Kihefo, we all piled into the van to go clubbing at the new dancehall bar, The Mist. So. Much. Fun! Immediately upon arrival, well after taking our free “welcome shot” of course, we all hit the stage – which was more of a slightly raised level than anything else, but whatever. A bunch of tipsy muzungus quickly caught the attention of pretty much everyone in the bar and we found ourselves bumping and grinding with random locals. At one point I was even dancing with a guy who was successfully balancing a bottle on his head the entire time. Who could still dance better than me. In the words of Trina, “Ugandans come out of the womb knowing how to dance.” Sadly for you guys, but thank god for me, there are no pictures of this because I'm sure I looked like a dumbass. Sometimes you need to leave the camera at home and just enjoy the moment! Despite having nothing but white girl moves, our classmates said that we actually weren't too bad, but I'm sure they we just trying to be kind.



Anyways, I'm going to cut this blog off here. The next one will be the start of my next volunteer program, the Vets Without Borders goat project!

I've heard about all the rain and floods back home and I hope you all are staying safe and dry. Xoxo

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Photos

Pealing tiny potatoes with a massive knife
What could possibly go wrong?

Master chefs
Sporting our Ugandan jerseys!

Poutine!
The gravy isn't even brown! That's pretty much proof there isn't any beef in it.

Dance party
It's a shitty picture, but I wanted to have a little bit of the dancing in my blog. Plus it makes me laugh.
Oh and all the speckles are dust - no wonder I ended up with a sinus infection.