by Judy Steel
We went on, and I was sitting down in the dirt with a jaja cooking maize on a charcoal stove when we noticed a small child with matted hair. On closer inspection, I found his ear was pouring forth pus and he had secondary infections on his scalp. The poor little chap was in much pain. We found his mother and sternly insisted she bring him to the clinic.
After the walk, we talked about the experience and one of the youths named Ivan told me in broken English that he had learnt that jajas love you to love them, and you can hug them and they don’t mind. Five gold stars for that boy. They promised that one of the youths would go on the walking clinic each week from then on. There is so much they can help with, like fetching water, washing clothes or cleaning up around the house.
Sadly, the UACO communal piggery was a disaster. We had invested roughly $750 building it and a similar amount stocking it with pigs for a return of about one-tenth of that from their sale. It wasn’t in a good location and Edward and I agreed it had to go. We were able to recoup some money by selling the operation to the people who owned the land and originally shared the piggery. Edward used the returned money to buy plastic chairs. They are in short supply in Uganda and, given the country’s love of speeches and formal events, they are highly sought after for hiring. The chairs provided a steady stream of income without fear of swine fever or lack of feed.
UACO’s expenses continued to escalate and, in addition to the rising costs of drugs and fuel, we needed to find money to boost the pay for the key staff, Ronald and Persis. Both were struggling on the meagre amount we could afford, and yet they were so capable I couldn’t imagine losing them. When Florence resigned, Edward interviewed four people for the position and Persis was the only one we could afford – none of the others would even consider the position for the salary offered. I shall love Persis forever for accepting the position. UACO was fast gaining a reputation as a dynamic organisation and attracting interest from medical people (Edward’s colleagues often expressed envy at his hospital’s equipment and facilities), but we were also getting a reputation for not paying enough. Persis had a lot of qualifications and experience aside from nursing. She was wise and lovely, she managed everyone calmly and quietly and they respected her very much. Although wages in Uganda are generally 10 per cent of those paid in Australia, on our current budget we could only manage about half that.
During our full executive meeting in the last days before I was due to leave again, we discussed the budget. Fred, in his role as treasurer, emailed approval for an overall increase, saying there was enough money from Australian donations to include a wage rise for both Ronald and Persis, which was wonderful to be able to announce. After the meeting the farewells started. They presented me with a beautiful gomez and Edward gave me a kunzu (traditional men’s formal robe) for Allan.
I took Anna-Mary and Beth two big bagfuls of food and left money with Frank and Michele to buy Beth some new clothes at Christmas. Beth’s latest school report was not good, and I talked with Frank and Michele about taking Beth out of school. She was now fourteen and had never been able to comprehend schoolwork. I suggested training her in something such as cooking, but the biggest fear at this age is that if she left school she would be at risk in the community and that it would be better for her to stay in school for another two years. A girl of fifteen is considered sexually active in Uganda and often at risk of prostitution. I feared Beth would be easy prey for this given her naivety and aimlessness.
I took an exhilarating boda–boda ride to visit Frank and Michele at their home in Lugala and Thomas came and showed me his schoolwork; he said his favourite subject was English. We had a lovely time and I told him I was very proud of his neat writing. He loved the new backpack and clothes I had bought him.
As always, my heart strings were being tugged by the time I had finished saying goodbye to everyone and I was feeling such a mixture of emotions. Glad to be finished and excited that I would soon be returning to a protein-filled diet with a glass or two of red, but also desperately sad that I wouldn’t see my extended family for some time. I told Edward it would probably be three years before I returned, but he refused to hear that saying: ‘No, no – I cannot do without you for more than two years.’ I knew many of my beautiful friends would die before I came back.
Chapter Twenty-Two
AFTER LEAVING UGANDA I flew home the long way via California. Fiona and Warrick had moved to San Francisco and now had a baby girl named Katherine Eleanore, known as Kate. She just melted into my arms at the airport. John was a little more reticent but that soon changed. I spent all of June 2006 in heaven being a mum and a nanna. What a wonderful way to recover from the stresses and strains of working in Africa.
My time in San Francisco may have been peaceful but there was one particular weekend that was anything but for Allan back in South Australia. I had known for a few months that I was to be recognised in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list by being appointed an Officer of the Order of Australia (AO), but the phones ran hot after the news broke on the June long weekend. Allan was on the phone continually dealing with our friends and the media. Once again I felt overwhelmed by this honour and truly believed it recognised the work of many people – Allan and I have often joked he should have received the Companion. I could never have done what I have done without his constant love, support and advice.
I arrived back from the States in time for us to be guests for the investiture at Government House in Adelaide, where I received the award from the governor of South Australia, Marjorie Jackson-Nelson. I also returned home to find the house largely rebuilt and extended and, although we lived in the caravan for a couple more weeks, things were moving along very nicely. Port Elliot is so tranquil, and walking along the coast with Annie was a perfect time for reflection. I have a special seat where I sit and talk to God, and the seals and the whales when they are visiting from the Antarctic.
I had not been home long when I learned that members of the Port Eliot Uniting Church had become very excited about UACO. Although essentially an older congregation, they supported it financially and keenly sought an update on Uganda.
The next instalment in the UACO story was an unexpected one. We had been trying to source an ambulance for a couple of years from different ambulance services around Australia, but nothing had eventuated. Anthony Radford was working at the Repatriation General Hospital in Adelaide when he noticed a couple of orderlies looking at a website that showed a picture of an ambulance. It turned out they were both weekend volunteers for St John Ambulance, and Anthony remarked that he was looking for an ambulance. They explained the organisation turns their vehicles over every ten years and there was in fact one outside for sale.
Within five minutes Anthony was on the phone to the chief executive of St John Ambulance Australia, Peter Gill, discussing the work of UACO and how badly an ambulance was needed in Uganda. The next day, St John offered one of their decommissioned vehicles to UACO at no cost. A mechanic, the son of a member of our congregation at Port Elliot, did a complete service and safety check of the ambulance. Another couple donated a significant portion of the cost of shipping the vehicle to Africa. We decided it would be a wasted opportunity if it was shipped over empty and so began again collecting medical supplies and consumables. They all came from pharmacies, organisations and individuals on the Fleurieu Peninsula south of Adelaide. By the time the 1996 Ford Econovan ambulance was driven into the shipping container, it was jammed full of:
medical X-ray film
incontinence pads
dental instruments
sterile cottonwool buds
15 walking sticks, 1 walking frame and 1 quad walker for physiotherapy use
bandages
urology—colostomy drainage items
medical instruments, airways, infusion sets
combine dressings
surgical gloves
2 wheelchairs
tissue packs for clinic use
cotton-tipped probes
clinic and hospital soap
hospital covers and air cushions
nebuliser
breast pump
surgical items
neck braces
urinary catheters
urinary drainage systems
antibacterial wipes
emergency siren for ambulance
Once again a container-load of treasure was sent off to Uganda, but it wasn’t long until it became entangled in a frustrating round of African bureaucracy. Edward and his driver, Frank, travelled to Mombasa in early December, intending to drive the ambulance the 1000 kilometres to Kampala. However, once there the Kenyan authorities decreed the vehicle was in transit and so couldn’t be driven, and certainly not when loaded with medical supplies. The goods had to be unloaded, checked against the manifest and then repacked into the ambulance, which was then put back into the shipping container, re-sealed and sent to Kampala. A month after first arriving at Mombasa, the ambulance was finally parked in the hospital compound.
Our ambulance wasn’t the only new transportation. I had spoken to a Probus group at Port Elliot about Ronald’s workload, explaining how he frequently made urgent night visits to the elderly, mostly on foot. If we could get Ronald a boda-boda he could move quickly, particularly when someone with malaria needed an urgent intravenous infusion. A couple, Sue and Anthony Smith, approached me after the event offering not only to pay for one but also to cover the annual cost of maintenance and fuel. Ronald was soon well known throughout Najjanankumbi for his motorbike equipped with a box on the rear to carry medications.
Our son Peter was serving in Iraq for six months, leaving Katrina a sole parent taking care of their four sons, so Allan and I went to help out for a while in February 2007. The army posts Peter to a new place every two years and now the family were in Canberra. One of the things we have had to come to terms with is that if your children are in the defence forces then what you used to think was normal no longer is. When they joined we had no idea what terrorism would do to global security and how the role of the soldier would change to combat that. Peter was based in Basra and regularly went to Baghdad. I used to worry deeply about his safety but in the end decided that I had to trust him to God or I would have gone crazy. When he returned from that tour he was made Commanding Officer of 5 Aviation Regiment Townsville.
Our eldest son, David, and his wife, Jodi, were working hard to take magnificent care of Cameron, who was now six years old. Born with cystic fibrosis, he is now going to school and manages to not miss too many days. Very bright and inquisitive, which is often the way with children with cystic fibrosis, Cameron is a sensitive little boy who often sounds so much older than his years. His sister, Claire, three years younger, is full of mischief, love and laughter.
In early 2007 we were shocked by the news that Luigi had died in Griffith. Since that first meeting in 2000, the Quarisa family had been loyal supporters of UACO but were also now very dear friends. Luigi and Mary had been married fifty-four years. His daughter Lizabeth wrote a moving tribute to him:
My father was a modest man, who never wanted to be famous or the first. His schooling was brief but his education complete. And for me, he was the greatest man because he taught us always to do our best. To learn as much as possible about the world and to give to the very end. And if we have inherited even a part of his being, then this world will be a better place.
We were not surprised to be among hundreds who came to pay their respects. At the service mourners were asked to donate to UACO in lieu of flowers, and so came a final gift for Uganda from this dear man.
Almost every monthly report emailed from Uganda showed a growing need. The clinic operated two days per week but could have run five. In the year 2000, 564 babies were immunised but by 2007 that number had reached 3500, with a forecast it would top 5000 within twelve months. The number of clients receiving medical treatment and counselling for HIV/AIDS was expected to double in a year. The clinic’s pharmaceutical bill was now almost $1000 per month and more than a quarter of the total annual budget. The micro-loan scheme was constrained by the funds available, with applications far outstripping approvals. The first group had graduated from the functional adult literacy class while the waiting list to enrol grew longer by the month. It all boiled down to simply not having the funds to support any expansion; as it was, we were barely covering the current level of services. Fundraising was sustained by regular generous donors but we were always looking for ways to find more money. Our search led us to apply to AusAID for a one-year grant.
AusAID, the agency that manages Australia’s overseas aid, works out of the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade in Canberra, but also has staff at various embassies around the globe. Its goal is to use the tens of millions of dollars it receives each year to reduce poverty and achieve sustainable development in line with Australia’s national interest.
I found writing the proposal really complex and difficult, however, with the help of Allan, Fred, Iva and Edward and his team from Uganda, we applied successfully for $45,500 – enough money to expand the primary health care service into the slum areas adjacent to Najjanankumbi. AusAID grants do not pay for staff wages, rent or construction of buildings, but ours did allow us to buy medications, 600 mosquito nets and more food supplements for HIV/AIDS sufferers. It also allowed for an expansion of education programs that teach about malaria, STDs, family planning, literacy and how to manage a small loan.
The exciting news of the grant came as I prepared to return to Uganda. I decided that three years was too long to be away and I planned a nine week visit for early in 2008. There was so much to do this time with the implementation of the grant and Edward was anxious that I oversee everything. He was aware he had to show the Australian Government that he was honest and accountable for the ‘model of community care’ which was the title of our application.
Since I was last there, the Ugandan Government had banned plastic bags so I began collecting environmentally suitable shopping bags to take with me and soon had 250. These were packed alongside 150 knitted babies’ garments, one hundred girls’ dresses, thirty pocket teddy bears and twelve Adelaide Crows beanies for the youth group. We were also given three cardiac monitors and a defibrillator. A transport company shipped them from Adelaide to Brisbane free of charge where they were included as part of a larger container destined for Michele and Frank Heyward in Uganda.
On this visit I once again had an Aussie team coming, with Fred eager to meet Edward and all the people he had been interacting with over the years. Iva was returning for the second time and her friend Anthony Catanzariti from Sydney was eager to see what we do.
The long journey to Uganda began at 3.30 am when we pulled out of our driveway and headed up the dark and silent highway to Adelaide. It is always a time of both excitement and anxiety. I always miss Allan so much but I was worried about how my health would be this time, though my Parkinson’s was relatively stable and hadn’t changed much in the past year or two. I did have days when I felt quite shaky but I could generally manage well. This would be quite a test.
Chapter Twenty-Three
AS USUAL, I HAD excess luggage consisting of three suitcases, laptop computer and carry-on bag. I was thrilled when Qantas checked it all through to South Africa for free. My good fortune didn’t last though and, after an overnight stopover in Johannesburg, I returned to the airport and faced a penalty for thirty-three kilograms of excess baggage. The line at the service desk had taken so long people were kicking their luggage in frustration. I was quite stressed by the time I reached the front of the queue because my flight left in less than an hour, then for some reason the woman behind the desk started talking to a colleague rather than processing my ticket. I had to raise my voice to get her attention during which my Parkinson’s really kicked in and both hands were shaking.
I made it to uganda late that night and it was clear improvements had been made for CHOGM. The hotel in Entebbe where I stayed overnight had had an upgrade a
nd I was delighted to have room service of soup and a toasted sandwich before collapsing into bed
Edward and Rose arrived the next day with little Judy to meet me. On the drive I was startled by the greenery. South Australia had suffered through a horrendously hot summer that had dried everything to a crisp, so to see green grass and water was a pleasant change. Edward said the rains had caused flooding in many houses in the low-lying areas with some loss of life. He warned me I would need rubber boots for the walking clinic.
I had decided to stay at a hotel that was walking distance from the hospital this time rather than the hostel. It looked great from the outside but my room consisted of a bed, small table and two chairs. The ensuite was a tiny room opened by a water-soaked plywood door with a nail as a handle. In the middle of the metre-square area was a toilet that didn’t flush; instead I had to spray water from a hand-held shower hose into a bowl and toss it down. The bedroom was so small I couldn’t unpack my belongings and had to sit the computer on my knees to use it. The first night, the noise was horrendous from the bars downstairs: the next morning a church service was held in the conference room next to mine which went for hours and hours, and by the end I knew both fifty different ways to say hallelujah and that I would have to stay somewhere else. Edward had thoughtfully not cancelled a booking he had made at the hostel in case I didn’t like the hotel, and so the next day his driver, Frank, came around and helped me move.