Day 3 – Kampala

Kampala, Uganda’s seat of government, population approx. 1.8 million, is built on 7 hills. It is a 45-60 minute ride by minibus taxi from BKU, and our destination today when taking Isaiah to his HIV clinic appointment.

The taxis are like a run-down club van back home, with 5 rows of seats, each holding 3 (sometimes 4) persons.  There are flip-up seats along the side of the van with the single sliding door, allowing passengers to enter & exit the rear seats.  The taxis make frequent stops anywhere along the roadside where a pedestrian appears to need a ride.  They operate more in the fashion of a public transit vehicle than a private taxi. The cost is $3000 shillings per adult for the one-way trip.  Isaiah rides for free because he sits on Rose’s lap.  The drivers are rather aggressive, and make generous use of the horn.

Taxis are loaded inside & out

 

We set out about 8:45 am.  Isaiah is an orphan who lives with his grandmother nearby.  Victoria agreed to provide the service of sending him to the clinic because grandmother felt unable or unwilling to do so.  He is a very quiet, polite, withdrawn boy who seems sadly listless the entire day.  There is a mix-up in directions, and we stop first at a clinic funded by the British, whose campus appears like that of a resort hotel.  Isaiah whispers this is the wrong place, and a quick phone call by Rose confirms that we need to catch a ride another few km. along the highway.  I am very pleasantly surprised by the physical infrastructure and efficiency of this second clinic.  HIV treatment for citizens is funded by the government, including the cost of medications.  The grounds are very clean, the clinic area quite spacious with a playground outside the pediatric outpatients, and we complete registration, consult with the HIV “counselor” (probably like a physician assistant in Canada), and pick up the 3-month supply of medication all easily within an hour.  This gives me only a little time to play kickball in the waiting area with an energetic little guy of about 4.

Isaiah is a lovely child

spacious and uncrowded paediatric HIV outpatient clinic

View from the clinic - one of Kampala's 7 hills

We are advised that, although Isaiah’s CD4 (blood cell) count is still acceptable, he has lost a little weight since his last assessment.  Rose expresses concern about the quality of nutrition in his home.

Our next goal of sourcing stock medications takes us into the very heart of the city.  Venturing off the main road, the taxi bus winds through a maze of narrow dirt corridors lined by vendors’ shacks then out to the main thoroughfare of Kampala Rd.  The street is overrun with minibus taxis and motorcycles, and the sidewalks throng with a steady stream of humanity,  with great variations in all features except skin colour.  Alicia remarks she has not seen another Caucasian since we left the airport.  We get more than our share of stares, but mostly friendly smiles, a wave, and rarely a hand reaching out to touch the unfamiliar light skin.

We find the forex shop which Victoria has recommended, and I exchange the bulk of my US$, save a couple of Ben Franklin’s  which the clerk eyes suspiciously.  On the way there I am rather bold, hanging behind our little group to catch the right moment or angle to click the shutter and capture an image, but now with more than 1M shillings in my pocket (not a great sum to North Americans, but several years’ salary to most Ugandans) I feel suddenly wary and hesitant to have the distraction of a camera held up to my eye.  Please understand, there is nothing in the behaviour of any locals that makes me feel the least threatened or in peril, and it makes no sense, since I have no more money than when it was US$ bills in my pocket, but the concept of > 1M cash in any currency on my person seems daunting.  Fortunately, it is only a short walk to the wholesale pharmacy.

two Kampala residents are happy to have the muzumbu snap their picture

The pharmacy is a lively storefront operation run by East Indian pharmacists, one of whom is able to provide a price list per unit of almost all the 15 or 20 items on Rose’s shopping list off the top of his head.  It amazes me that one can purchase Amoxicillin, Ceftriaxone, epi-pens, malaria treatment meds and injectable diazepam without a doctor’s prescription or proof of attachment to a recognized medical centre.  We pay the equivalent of a two-or 3-month supply of birth control pills in Canada, for enough sophisticated meds to stock the clinic for a good year or so.  When we discover they carry the newer type of blood droplet quick malaria test kits, I am happy to double up and obtain 50 kits, probably enough to last Rose a couple of years.

By this time quite hot and thirsty, we find a little café where the waitress does not hesitate to seat us at a table occupied by a single young woman, who takes it all in stride.  While we sip our beverages (Fanta for Rose & the kids, Mountain Dew for this caffeine-starved jet-lagged soul), a street vendor wonders in and tempts me with a kid’s stand-up face mirror.  I have held off shaving until today, mostly due to my natural resentment of the need to shave, but also using the excuse of the lack of a mirror in Victoria’s guest bathroom.  Not sure how those female college interns from the US managed, but I guess they all have make-up mirrors carried 24/7.  Anyhow, heading out to the HIV clinic and a pharmacy outlet as a representative of Ontario’s medical profession, I felt the need to take razor to skin this morning, using only my reflection in the glass cabinet door and cursing the dim light resulting from another untimely power outage.  So, when Alicia rolls her eyes and pleads that I not embarrass her by purchasing the “hello Kitty” mirror, I remind her that it was she who had teased me about the few straggly patches of missed beard on my visage earlier today.  Of course, the first vendor’s success brought a slow stream of follow-up calls, offering various wares but none of which carry the same immediate utility as my newest possession.
 

Refreshed and emboldened, I ask Rose if we can find a shop to purchase some balls for the kids at BKU.  Loving soccer myself, I brought two good quality soccer balls which I deflated for transport.  Unfortunately, I must have damaged the bladder of the kid-size ball, so only one functional ball was available for the enthusiastic attention of all the kids.  I think I would like to pick up a dozen or so balls of different varieties, but we have no luck finding anything in the downtown market after a couple of little circuits, so we decide to head to the minibus stand.  I do find a street vendor with a few overpriced cheap rubbery balls on the edge of the stand, so I grudgingly purchase 4 balls to bring back to BKU.

A sea of minibus taxis at the stand

The minibus stand is a large cul-de-sac with an impossible number of vehicles all crammed together, facing every which direction, and mostly standing still, often honking.  Somehow Rose finds the line headed towards Entebbe, and we secure the back row seat with windows that pull open.  We sit in the heat for some time while the driver and conductor load foam mattresses and trunks onto the roof of the vehicle, then finally edge out into the crawling traffic.

We do manage to Skype Susan (my wife & Alicia’s Mom) in Florida where she is visiting her own Mom, although the connection is a bit poor for the video feed.  Alicia is doing incredibly well, given her extreme closeness to Sue, the distance and the culture shock.  She is maturing into a kind, thoughtful and considerate young woman.  I email a “happy birthday” to Sarah, my middle daughter.  She hasn’t shown as online when I’ve looked on Skype, but hoping we can schedule a connection, mindful of the 11-hour time difference between Entebbe & Vancouver.

I am pleased to see Isaiah eat a full plate of food when we return to BKU.  Victoria ends her day by singing prayers with a few of the older children in the kitchen.  I find it very moving.  She then offers a spoken thanksgiving and prayers for blessings – not sure if she prays this part in English for my benefit – but I am rather surprised to hear her ask the Lord to consider whether Isaiah’s grandmother might see fit that he could receive better care at BKU.  This saint of a lady has such an incredibly big heart that she would willingly take him in if she thought he could fare a little better, knowing full well how terribly stretched her resources are with the number of kids now under her care.  Hers is a capacity for love and a generosity of spirit that is one in a million, or probably even less common.