Diary to Dhaka - Patricia J Nickson
Monday, 20th November, 2000
We started the day, as usual, with staff prayers and a staff meeting. Some of the staff did not realise that I would be leaving today. I assured them that this was no panic decision, as with my last exit, but was simply a surer way than to wait until Wednesday, to see if the airport opened in time for my booked flight.
The driver, Alain and I left at 10.00. It is always difficult to say goodbye to colleagues and friends – and the cat! Muzee (my house-help) )was glum, but affectionately put some bread and bananas into my hands. . We picked up Kiiza Kahwa from the hospital. Kiiza was a student of mine in my early days in Boga. Plagued by sickle cell anaemia, she is now recovering from a septic arthritis – a complication of her illness. With her parents at Boga, she will be better off at Boga hospital than paying the expensive hospital fees at Nyankunde. Dr Christina de Windt is at Boga, so she will be in good hands.
The road was quite good. We stopped at health centres on the way, just to encourage the nurses. There is almost no supervision, and little contact with the district health authorities. Few have salaries, but depend on the sale of drugs for their income. But drug supplies are erratic in such unstable areas. At one centre, a few months ago, rebels stole the whole of the medicine stock, as well as the little cash that the centre held. Another centre was out of Chloroquine and antibiotics. A well attended ante-natal clinic was in progress at yet another, but in bed was a 15 year old, a victim of rape by a soldier, who was recovering from a traumatic delivery, resulting in a stillborn child and fistulae for the mother.
We risked one of the rebel front lines to reach an isolated centre in another health district, where there had been two recent deaths from ’bloody diarrhoea’. Ever watchful for the deadly Ebola virus, we wanted to check the history of these deaths – but there were no details available. Another health centre had major problems because the village in which it was situated had received many displaced persons from a tribal conflict to the north. Displaced persons are not supported by HCR so there was no food or health supplies given. A three-fold increase in the population puts serious strains on the very fragile resources of the village. For example, the villages are used to using an unprotected natural water source. Now with so many strangers in the village, there is even more contamination, insufficient water, squabbles over supplies, and diarrhoeal diseases have increased. Local children have died, and this has caused disharmony between the local host population and the displaced persons.
We completed the 60kms journey in about 5½ hours. I had hoped to talk with the Archbishop but found he had gone to Kampala en route for the States! I spent some time with Judy Acheson, and chatted for a few seconds with Nigel Pearson. Judy and I went to visit Amoti Njojo (the Archbishop’s wife) and then I retired to Nyangoma’s home at Naykabale, where it was good to see everyone.
The Chief (an old friend) came to visit me, and we chatted about the situation. At Nyankunde, we have Ugandan troops on our compound, but Congolese soldiers occupy Boga. Ugandan troops are paid, while Congolese are not. The Chief said that the population suffers from gross intimidation and exploitation by the soldiers. “How do you control it?” I asked. He said that he had eliminated the normal tax on market produce sold (normally used for local civic administration), because villagers could not afford to pay tax, and to have food taken by the soldiers for themselves. Even so, soldiers accost many women returning from the village on the road, who steal their purchases, and any cash left. There was a lot of malnutrition amongst the local children in the village. A refugee camp, with Ugandans from tribal conflicts across the border was suffering less as they had HCR food supplies.
Tuesday, 21st November, 2000
We left the village at 3.00am for a 3-hour journey (45 kms) to the River Semliki, which divides DR Congo from Uganda. It was raining hard, and it was very difficult to get down the escarpment to the plains below. By 6.30 we were at the river, where we left the land rover. We put the motorbike in a small dugout canoe, and were paddled across the fast flowing Semliki to the Uganda bank, and went on by motorbike to the police post, some 10 kms further on, and having to dodge hundreds of cows on the way. It was while we were waiting for the letter to immigration officers in Fort Portal, saying I had entered Uganda legally, that we saw the only bus (a mini-bus) of the day go past!
We sat in a village home waiting for any passing transport. The lady of the house kindly produced tea (which was very welcome as we had left Boga 5 hours ago – and it was now very hot!). Eventually, a fish lorry appeared. It was already full – with 30 people balancing on top of the fish! I was invited to climb up and join them! “…..and my luggage?”, I asked, thinking specially of my computer. “We’ll just hang that over the back” said the ‘helpful’ driver! As I anticipated the climb on to the luggage, I wondered how my long lost agility would cope! But it had to! A few arms reached down to pull me up. Climbing up was one thing – but staying up was quite another! The fish were slippery, and their fins and spines stuck into me. My legs were wedged amongst the fish so I could not move to balance myself as the lorry lurched up the along. After 15 minutes, my legs were numb, my back was aching from the weight of people leaning on me, and I feared for my computer and my luggage, which lurched drunkenly at the back of the vehicle!
Each hill was an ordeal. The lorry made a brave attempt to climb each one, but the gear coughed and made grinding noises until the lorry could climb no further. I was terrified that the lorry would career back down the hill sending us all (and my computer) flying to a certain death, but, as soon as the strength of the vehicle failed, the men jumped off and threw stones under the wheels, to prevent the lorry going backwards, until the driver could get it into first gear, and start again. I learnt that these stops were my cue to shift my position, and gain a little more space and security. However, I felt very repentant when it meant that one man lost his place and had to hang on to the back (but I was not gracious enough to surrender my new-found hold on relative security!).
Five hours later, smelling of fish, and very sunburnt, we arrived at Fort Portal. I had to go through immigration (so easy and polite that I regretted looking and smelling so awful!). A friend of a friend’s gave us a meal, and then I thanked my colleague and escort from Boga and took a bus, which took me to Kampala, another 5 hours away.
It was well after 11pm when I arrived at the bus park in Kampala – not a good time for a foreign lady to look lost with heavy suitcase and computer. I foolishly refused a safe but somewhat expensive taxi to my friend’s door, and thus suffered the taunts of young men out for a laugh. I was tired and rather desperate. I asked in Swahili, for a cheaper lift. The Swahili drew the crowds – “she must come from Tanzania” (that was almost a complement as my Swahili is nowhere near the pure Tanzanian language but a very village version of it!). Someone threw my luggage (and computer!) into another bus, and we were off. I had to walk the last bit – unsafe, heavy luggage and almost unconscious with a burnt face and tiredness. At my friend’s house (the converted garage of the Archbishop’s House!), there were no lights. I apologised first for arriving so late, but insisted on having a shower!
Wednesday - Friday, 22nd – 24th November, 2000
These were useful days spent in Kampala, writing and visiting health offices to learn more about Ebola (At Nyankunde we are preparing for an epidemic, given the proximity to the Ugandan epidemic, and the fracture of the health infrastructure in DR Congo). A friend, Matthew, was the doctor in charge of the Ebola outbreak in the North and I was able to speak with him by telephone (when I returned to Uganda from Bangladesh, I discovered that Matthew himself had died of Ebola!). On Friday evening I flew to Nairobi and stayed with the Smiths.
Saturday-Sunday, 25th – 26th November, 2000
I managed to be up before the girls, so got a few e-mails written before they were bouncing around. My intention was to keep them quiet so that their parents could have a lie-in. We watched a video together, which kept us all absorbed for an hour or so! The rest of the morning I was relieved from ‘baby-sitting’ duties, and was able to catch up with many of the e-mails waiting for me. I went over to Nyangoma and Elise for a meal, from where Enos (CMS driver) and his fiancée picked me up for the airport.
There was bad news at the airport. The flight was delayed by one and a half hours! This would give me only 20 minutes to catch make my connection in Dubai. In fact, we were two hours late and the Emirates flight from Dubai pulled out, as we were taxi-ing up to the airport in Dubai! I had a further 3 hours to wait in the deluxe airport before boarding a Sri Lanka Airline flight to Colombo. This was a beautiful aircraft, with excellent service.
We were in Colombo airport by 3.00pm local time – but my luggage was somewhere en route!! It took ages to fill in all the necessary claim forms. I was disappointed to find that there was no one waiting for me – but not surprising, given all the delays! Instead, I got a taxi to the “Pegasus Reef Hotel” where the University staff had made a booking for me.
I tried to make contact with University staff without success. I badly needed clean clothes, so washed out what I had been travelling in, hoping they would dry by the morning. They were more suited to autumn in Liverpool than the 34’C of Colombo, but would have to do! On this thought I slept soundly.
Monday, 27th – 30th November, 2000
My first task was to contact the airport – but there was only bad news… no sign of my case! Then I tried to contact the folk at the university. Success at last! They were surprised to find I was already here. They said they would call round in the afternoon to meet me but that there was nothing much to do this morning! The day was boring, to say the least. The clothes I had worn for the journey were not suitable for a holiday hotel, and my shoes, in the heat, were unbearable! Worse still – my swimming things were in my case……………… The case turned up three days later
Friday, 1st December, 2000
I woke up to the sound of shooting. A practice range? Another Tamil Tigers’ attack? I was scared to go out onto my veranda. At breakfast, I asked one of the waiters what the shooting was. “The first of December……. We start celebrating Christmas now, and people let off ‘fire crackers’ “. ……………..
Monday, 4th December, 2000 – Colombo to Dhaka (People’s Health Assembly)
During the three-hour flight to Dhaka, I was imaging my arrival in Dhaka. My last memories of Dhaka airport were not too good – with corruption and many complications – but that was 21 years ago, since when a new airport has been built. Sandhya had written to say that she and would be at the airport – how would I recognise two special girls who I had not seen for 21 years? Sandhya and Tara were two little orphan girls who had played such an important role in my life in Bollobhpur, Western Bangladesh: 1975-80). The airport was efficient, with no hint of corruption. Waiting visitors were behind glass panels, and I had no hope of seeing the girls, but as I left the airport an excited Tara threw herself at me, pushing some lovely flowers into my arms. Sandhya emerged, and a young gentleman (who turned out to be Sandhya’s husband, Lentil) said “I’ve got your cases, Mum” (!!). It was a very precious moment, watched by my fellow travellers, going to the Assembly with me!
Leaving the girls and Lentil (I would spend time with them later) we drove to Gona Shastya Kendra. Everything in Dhaka was so different – new roads and buildings …I did not recognise a thing. It was though I had never been there before. In fact I never knew Dhaka well, only going there when necessary from our home on the Western border. We went straight into the Assembly, which had already started.
