Since my last post, the field course group has moved back to Y.E.S. hostel in Fort Portal, given their potential hydro site evaluations and gone home. Some went directly, others took more meandering routes to take in more of East Africa. I gave Stan (Dan) a couple of letters for my Nanna, which he has graciously posted on his return. Before leaving, Stan was breifly host to some 'Jiggers'; click here for wikipedia's explanation. Jo (the aforementioned "Moobi") stayed on later than most, after a local NGO showed interest in collaborating in a long-term rain-water harvesting project, aimed at bringing clean water to those currently too far from a source. Jo, James, Rae and Hok Lam's project during the field course had been to develop a cost-effective system. I should point out that, like all good NGO work, the idea is not to simply give the systems away, worsening local western dependence, but to sell them at an affordable price.
I've spent the last couple of weeks working on the hydroscheme's electronics, making very slow progress; in the last few days, the rest of the team has moved to live on-site, leaving me behind in Fort Portal where there is (usually) power. I've actually only spent two nights without at least one other member of the team in the hostel, due to the various errands and meetings needed here.
The first of the post-entitling unfortunate events was the theft of Rajiv's camera as he worked on-site at Mabwe. The fact that the camera was not on show, and safely tucked away in his rucksack, made the theft even more disheartening. The community's reaction was a little shocking; four men were apprehended and tied to a tree. Whipping began, before Dan intervened. The locals were keen to demonstrate their no-tolerance attitude, and even keener to pin the blame on an outsider. A trusted contributer to last year's scheme was one of the four. The man we believe to be the thief was also within the four, but maintained his innocence. We were reluctant to persue the issue, as the man clearly has some mental health issues. Another reason for our reluctance is the traditional Ugandan punishment for thievery: death by immediate beating. In a country in which stealing from a person could literally starve them, theft is a serious crime.
Three unfortunate events have befallen my person, although the first two were mainly my fault. Firstly, I ignored label warnings and took my antimalarial (Doxycycline) pills immediately before bed and without any food. The next morning I had severe heartburn and couldn't swallow anything without pain. Realising that the Doxy had damaged my oesophagus, I decided I couldn't really stop taking my antimalarials, and so simply treated the soreness with Ibuprofen (painkiller and anti-inflammatory). Three days later, with the symptoms getting steadily worse, I finally did some research, only to discover that this mistake is quite common, and usual treatment is to immediately cease antimalarials, at which point recovery takes a few days. I also discovered that Ibuprofen is known to excasserbate oesophagitus. I am never self-medicating without research again.
Towards the end of my end of my eating difficulties, I managed to forget that a mains transformer I was working on was still plugged in and switched on; grabbing it to move it, I electrocuted myself and startled everyone else by shouting very loudly. Luckily the conduction path was simply through my hand, rather than anywhere vital, so the only consequence was a numb and tingling hand.
My oesaphagus healed slowly over about 5 days, and I managed to get two painless meals in before my third mishap: the worst stomach bug I have ever had. I will spare any readers the more graphic details, but the lowest point came on the first night of infection, with the rest of the team out for dinner leaving me behind "feeling a bit queasy". A routine bathroom visit resulted in me, dizzy and sweating buckets, having to call for help (from strangers) from the cubicle, unable to stand.
Another event, too potentially serious to be labelled a "mishap", turned out to be a lucky escape; Dan and Becca were returning from Mt. Gessi on the back of a Boda when a dog ran out in front of them. The driver couldn't avoid it, and all three were thrown from the bike. Becca suffered some bad scrapes and grazing down the right hand side of here body. Dan, with reflexes of a panther as always, landed on Becca. Even his camera came out scratchless. If both had not been wearing helmets (purchased only a few days earlier) the results could have been a lot worse.
I write this looking out over the lights of night-time Kampala, having made the five hour coach journey again in an attempt to find some electronics supplies in the capital, as well as other components of the scheme. My initial impressions of the city may have been unfair; having walked around a fair bit alone this evening, the atmosphere is nowhere near as bad as I thought. The people are all friendly and helpful. Perhaps being introduced to Kampala in the dark, after a two-day journey, did not help my feelings towards her.
