Mama Jude: An Australian Nurse’s Extraordinary Other Life In Africa

by Judy Steel

  A keen photographer, Fred brought his video camera to record the day-to-day work of UACO. He gave a running commentary of what was going on and we were later able to distribute it on DVD to supporters in Australia.

  But even the best camera work in the world won’t fully convey the plight suffered by some Ugandans. On a walking clinic we found a jaja living in a tiny, dark, airless room. To get to her we had to straddle a large drain that ran next to her place. There had been no rain for some time and very hot days, so the smell of rotting rubbish in the drain combined with the airless heat in her tiny room was oppressive. She had cut her foot quite badly and required a tetanus shot plus treatment at the hospital.

  Iva and Fred worked very hard, but we managed to slip away from UACO duties for a weekend safari and to fulfil a dream of seeing the great animals of Africa. We joined a tour group headed for the Queen Elizabeth National Park. Although the bus seated nine, there was only the driver/guide, Paul, and an Englishwoman named Suzannah Richmond on board. Suzannah and her husband both worked for the British High Commission in Ethiopia, and she was on safari while he was on assignment in Moscow. She was delightful company and had lived a fascinating life. Paul was twenty-seven years old and had an encyclopaedic knowledge of animals, birds and the country. He was very gentle, respectful and professional.

  We drove 420 kilometres west of Kampala through lush green country. Out the window we saw the poverty of regional Uganda. The mud houses were often crumbling and children were dressed in rags that only just covered their bellies enlarged by malnutrition. Some children were walking to school in the rain with banana leaves over their heads – the African umbrella. We drove near the western border of Uganda and Congo to Fort Portal and then south to the park and our destination, Mweya Lodge.

  The weekend was a blend of relaxation followed by periods of high excitement in the bush. We had lunch on a huge verandah overlooking the Kazinga Channel, a forty-kilometre stretch of water linking Lake George and Lake Edward. As we ate, buffalo and hippopotamuses wandered into the water, followed by a huge bull elephant that threw dirt over his body and then went into the water for a drink. I was so excited that I think everyone around me was a bit amused. Eventually the whole family arrived and we had eight elephants – I was in heaven.

  At night in the lodge you could hear the sound of the animals, like a quiet, rumbling motorbike. When I got up and looked out of my bedroom window, two huge hippos were grazing just near the door to my room. They apparently come by each night, which explains the armed guards around the lodge.

  On both mornings we were woken at six and had a quick coffee before heading out. It was the most glorious time as we watched the sun come up, the early morning mist drifting on the channel and the animals suddenly appearing. There were waterbuck, hyena, buffalo, hippopotamuses, Ugandan kob, antelope and hundreds of birds. My favourite was the spoonbill stork because of its brilliant long red, black and yellow beak, which looks as though it has been hand-painted.

  On the way back from our last tour, like an encore to a virtuoso performance, we passed an enormous elephant so close to the road I could have leant out the window and touched him. He was slowly munching through some purple flowers and looked up and flapped his ears as if to confirm what we all thought: I am so beautiful.

  A couple of days after the safari we were again back on the roads of rural Uganda, but this time to distribute the birthing kits supplied by Zonta. We drove two hours west of Kampala on dreadful tracks, with Edward and Frank in front and Fred, Iva and me cramped in the back.

  At the first clinic at Kiganda we were met by a delightful Catholic nun named Sister Bernadette. She excitedly showed us around the tiny St Matia Mulumba Hospital and clinic. As we nibbled on roasted peanuts, Sister Bernadette gave us a wish list of needs including a new vehicle and extra buildings. Edward made a truly lovely response, gently explaining what we do and how we came to be delivering the Zonta birthing kits. In rural areas of Uganda such as this, most births occur at home, usually without the help of a trained midwife and certainly without a doctor, so the delivery is often assisted by a community worker or friend. The genius of the birthing kits is the way they help overcome basic hygiene problems. After the kits were handed over, Iva presented Sister Bernadette with children’s dresses and baby clothes she had brought from Australia.

  The local medical officer, Dr Lawrence, joined us so now six of us were jammed in the car, with Edward sitting next to me and poor Iva squashed into the small seats in the far back. I had never been on such bad roads. We couldn’t go any faster than twenty kilometres an hour and were tossed from side to side as the vehicle crawled deep into the Ugandan countryside. People were living in very simple, old and often falling-down mud huts. The children all seemed to be dressed in rags. Many called out mzungu as we passed.

  When we finally arrived at the second clinic we were met by another nun and a nurse. Again there were requests, this time for a vehicle, new beds and the completion of a new children’s ward, which had been started. I was shocked when we visited the tiny hospital to find a young man with dysentery in a bed alongside a small child in another bed with severe malaria. There seemed to be no infection control measures in place.

  From the day I arrived back in Uganda there had been plans to celebrate the AusAID grant. Eventually, when Fred and Iva had both arrived and after much preparation, the grand day was upon us and the celebration began at the clinic at 10, where two enormous marquees had been decorated with balloons, streamers and flowers. Edward rounded up the younger members of UACO and anyone else with the energy to walk, instructing them to go out and tell Kampala what the Australian Government had done for them. He mapped out a four kilometre walk from the hospital gates along the main Entebbe road and back. A marching band fired up and Edward grabbed my hand declaring, ‘We are going to lead them off!’ The band, followed by Edward and me and then a group of UACO youths and HIV/AIDs victims, proudly marched out of the compound and into the streets. It was part-pride demonstration, part-circus as the band competed with the traffic and police escort. Fred was standing up in Edward’s car and leaning out of the sunroof filming everyone as they marched. People waved and clapped from the footpaths as the parade continued down Entebbe Road, the main thoroughfare south of Kampala. It slowed one lane of traffic to a crawl and even held up the vice-president’s car for a while (lovely!). The march eventually covered about four kilometres before circling back into the compound and returning to the clinic for the formalities.

  Iva and I wore our gomez dresses, which everyone loved. Rose helped to select the material for them – electric blue for me and hot pink for Iva – while Persis had given us the undergarment to wear to make our dresses sit properly, essentially a cotton half-slip with a frill that sticks out around your middle. It made us look as though we had gained about ten kilograms overnight. One of the beautiful widows came up and enthused, ‘Mama Jude, you look so beautiful and you have hips.’ Fred wore a kunzu, the formal attire for Ugandan men, and everyone felt he had paid them a high honour.

  Our next challenge was to sing the Australian national anthem, with Persis joining Fred, Iva and me after just twenty-four hours to learn it. She did very well, too, and we received a boisterous reception from the audience. That was followed by items from the HIV/AIDS group, singing from the dance/drama group, poetry from the widows group and speech upon speech upon speech from anyone who was anyone. They were all glowing in their appreciation of what UACO is doing and has done.

  I had to make a speech, of course, but found Edward had planned to say most of what I had to say so I reverted to explaining the original proposal to AusAID – that it was our desire to empower the people of Uganda. This money from Australia was to improve health, wellbeing and future prospects, particularly for women and those with HIV/AIDS and malaria. I spoke of how learning could increase through literacy, professional development and small loans to reduce poverty and bring hope for the babies, children and youths of Najjananku
mbi and Uganda as a whole.

  After the speeches we handed out mosquito nets and bags of food to UACO members and refugees from Congo and Eritrea. Anyone who accessed services through UACO is required to become a member by registering their personal details and having a photo taken. In the past some people who weren’t in need had come and sponged off UACO and this new system meant those in need received help. My sister-in-law, Margaret Beaumont, had made environmentally friendly bags for the volunteers who had contributed so much to UACO, which we’d filled with more than five kilograms of food each. They were ecstatic and started to dance as I went to present them, so naturally I danced towards them too. It was a true celebration of the worth of these wonderful people and their value to UACO.

  The only disappointment of the day was the local newspaper’s coverage of the event, reporting it as a political stunt by the politician who was present. There was no mention at all of AusAID and we were referred to as the Uganda Austria Christian Outreach. Edward and I went to see the editor to politely point out the errors, who suggested I purchase space in the newspaper to advertise my organisation. Instead I asked how he thought the Australian Government would feel when I told them Uganda cannot even print the right name of the donor country. He agreed to send his features editor to do a story of the work of UACO.

  Fred had been in Uganda for nearly a month and as his time came to an end we called a final meeting. Everyone took the opportunity to farewell him in loving terms, but none more so than Bukenya – I will never forget the way he spoke of how much Fred had taught him and how he will always be in his mind and his heart. Fred and I both found the words moving and unforgettable.

  As we put Fred on the plane we welcomed Anthony Catanzariti, a friend of Iva’s from Sydney. Anthony is a secondary school teacher and had just returned from walking the Kokoda Track with a group of students. He soon had another group of young people following him when Iva and Anthony came with me on a walking clinic; it seemed every child in Najjanankumbi was calling out and following us.

  On the clinic we delivered mosquito nets to the elderly and vulnerable and visited a dear little boy called Sendagire. When UACO workers first found the eleven-year-old he could not walk and so crawled everywhere. He had hydrocephalus, caused by an abnormal increase of fluid in parts of the brain which in children causes the head to enlarge. I had dealt with a lot of children with this condition during my six months at the Adelaide Women’s and Children’s Hospital, which was part of my original nursing training at the Royal Adelaide Hospital in the 1960s. The children were always captivating and made my heart melt. With frequent monitoring and treatment from Daniel, he was now walking on his thin little legs. Despite the progress I was afraid he would not live for long.

  I couldn’t get Sendagire out of my head and eventually went to Edward and Persis to plan how UACO could give him the best life possible. We developed a plan for the nurse, Daniel, to continue seeing him each week, monitor the size of his head and ensure he had food that was high in protein and carbohydrates. On top of his hydrocephalus he also had sickle cell anaemia and needed iron supplements, special feeding and pain-relieving medication. We found out his father was dead and his mother drank heavily; when I asked her what his name was she couldn’t remember. Iva and I bought him some new trousers, a shirt and a pair of thongs. He was really precious and easily made his way into our hearts. We found out later from his brother that his name was Peter.

  Despite how hard Edward worked, he would always think to enquire how I was. I reminded him at times to rest a bit but he just laughed. On this visit he called me Judy almost all the time, only reverting to ‘madame’ or Nambatya every now and then. I had been worried that when Fred came I would cease to exist as when Allan visited, but not so. We truly had come to understand and appreciate each other.

  Our plans for UACO were growing as always, this time thanks to the new grant. AusAID funding cannot be used for salaries but the extra money meant we were able to divert UACO funds to employ Daniel five days per week. In addition, Edward gave the program a second nurse to cope with the number of babies being brought in for immunisation. The nurse was paid by UACO for the hours she worked at the clinic and by Edward when she was back at the hospital. Then we employed Grace Luwalo as a counsellor for all the right reasons, including his pushy personality. He was forthright in dealing with people and I believed this would help make things happen rather than waiting for something to go wrong, as so often occurred in Africa. We increased the number of literacy lessons each week by three, so Paul’s salary went up with the extra workload.

  One day I visited Nakulabye to see Alice Zalawango at the Florence Nightingale Clinic. She was very excited to see me, despite being in the middle of ‘renovations’. It was in the most awful, awful state, with one room cordoned off doubling as a treatment area and a delivery room with just a mattress on the floor.

  I returned a week later with Iva and Anthony, because I wanted them to meet Alice and experience the horrors of the Nakulabye slums. Alice met us all dressed up in her gomez. She took us on a tour of the slums, which were as appalling as I remembered. During the tour, women began approaching wanting me to sponsor their kids, supply them with mosquito nets and do something about the abysmal state of their drains.

  That night I couldn’t sleep wondering if UACO could expand into Nakulabye. Alice had almost begged me to help, but history told me I couldn’t work with her. However, my first two years in Uganda were with her – it was my apprenticeship. She has a good heart for her people and she taught me much. In the end I spoke with Edward about the dreadful situation in Nakulabye, and we decided to assist with primary health care education and some birthing kits. We discussed whether Daniel could go there in a teaching or advisory position. I asked Alice to contact Edward and follow up the offers but she didn’t.

  As our time in Africa began to come to end, there was time for celebrating and dancing. We had long planned to have a party for the youths because they had never had a specific celebration for themselves before. I waited until Iva and Anthony were there because they were younger and had more energy than I did and I knew just how much they were loved and appreciated by the youth group. More than eighty members attended. After speeches we handed out new UACO t-shirts and posed for an enormous group photo. The youth drama group played the drums and danced brilliantly for forty-five minutes without a break until the perspiration poured off them. The youths served lunch of beef, cabbage, Irish potatoes, thin spaghetti, a variety of fresh vegetables finely cut as salad, and a beautiful spicy vegetable relish. Then it was time to dance. Everyone joined in, from the mzungus to a tiny eighteen-month-old dressed in rags. It seems everyone in Africa is born with rhythm.

  Next came the day of Pauline and Johnson’s wedding. For probably the first and last time in our lives, Iva, Anthony and I were driven to a wedding in an ambulance. Edward’s car was being used as a wedding car so it was the only vehicle left to take us.

  The bride looked gorgeous, accompanied by eight bridesmaids and three little flower girls with little boy attendants. Johnson looked thin and ill from AIDS but stood proudly alongside his best man and two young attendants. The wedding ceremony lasted about an hour before we drove back to the clinic for a party.

  When the bride and groom arrived they were met with the UACO drums and dancers and the brass band we had on the AusAID celebration day. Everyone stood up and waved white hankies (or, in my unprepared situation, a white tissue). I was asked to make a speech and discovered that I was actually standing in for the mother of the bride as both of her parents were dead. Pauline and her husband came and knelt in front of Edward and me and presented us with their cake before doing the same to the father of the groom.

  There were lots of speeches, dancing and musical items. Paul, the literacy teacher, was in his element as MC, keeping the crowd in stitches with his jokes. Next came the gift-giving and I sat next to Edward while the others were presenting their gifts. He said this was what I had
given them – the spirit of UACO. It was a very poignant moment for me when I thought of what UACO had become and how close after the first visit I came to never returning.

  Then it was time for the bride and groom to dance together, Pauline now in her gorgeous sparkly red dress. After a few minutes they came over and asked us to join them – Edward with Pauline and me with Johnson. We danced African style and soon everyone was on their feet again, clapping and dancing and laughing in celebration.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ON MY FINAL WALKING clinic we saw some really sad situations. One jaja named Veronica was in so much pain that Daniel went back for the ambulance to take her to the hospital. Her only son was badly ill with malaria, so one of the youths agreed to take care of her in the hospital. Another lady was living in the most awful bedroom. It stank, and the reason was because she was sharing it with bats. The youth group later returned in numbers to clean her house and agreed to make it a monthly appointment.

  The night before flying home, I lay in bed while my mind swirled back over the past nine weeks. There had been noticeable changes in Uganda since my last visit. Some roads were better and it was cleaner, but traffic snarls dogged every journey. There was a lot of crime and violence associated with robberies, and children were abused in many heartbreaking ways. There is so much injustice there. It seems the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, same as anywhere.

  But one thing I was sure of was that I was a richer person for being here. The final church service I went to on my last Sunday in Kampala was so powerful. The choir had me in tears long before they finished, while the last hymn was sung over and over, as if in private worship. The gospel reading was from Matthew: