A Ugandan Way of Life

On Sunday 22^nd June me and Sophie left Kagando for the final time, and whilst the last three months have been full of both the high points and the low, we were both genuinely quite sad to leave.  However, apart from my briefest of introductions when we first arrived, I realise that I never properly explained what its actually like to live in this small Ugandan village. I therefore hope that my subsequent musings will not only entertain my friends and family at home, but will also act as a reminder for myself in the years to come when this mini-adventure in Africa has become all but a distant memory. 

Our Humble Abode

When I last came to Kagando three years ago our current house was being lived in by two British doctors, and at the time I was incredibly envious of them having such a lovely place to themselves (especially as we had to make do with the rather basic student accommodation). Whilst it wasn't partially cosy when we first moved in, by the time that we had unpacked and added our ‘own little touch’ to the place, it really did feel like our home away from home. All I hope is that the next person who moves in will feel just as welcomed by its homely interior as we did.

The Outside of Our House

Situated in the large compound opposite the hospital, our home consisted of a small white bungalow with a corrugated roof and surrounding gardens that contained a wide array of plants and butterflies. Inside the walls and floor were bare concrete, but with the colourful curtains and a mix-match of African themed wall-art the house itself was very welcoming. The front door opened into the lounge, which contained a couple of basic but comfortable chairs that were arranged around a small wicker coffee table; there was even a rocking chair - much to the amusement of all our visitors. Immediately oppose the front door was an alcove that contained the dining table; to the right of this was the kitchen, and to the left was the bathroom. The bathroom was perhaps the most basic room in the house, and contained just a sink, toilet, very cold shower and a light that worked occasionally (the novelty of having to wash in the dark has definitely worn off). However, whilst it was a far cry from the luxuries that we have grown accustomed to in the west, it was a lot better than what I had been anticipating; for one thing, it had a western flush toilet (rather than a squat loo – something which I still struggle with despite having spent almost three months now in Africa). The house has been lived in for over twenty years by British volunteers, and as a result contained a large collection of assorted kitchen utensils. In addition to a gas hob, toaster, kettle and fridge freezer, the cupboards contained, amongst other things, a fully functioning toasted-sandwich maker (not quite what we were expecting in an African kitchen). The house also contained two separate bedrooms; a double room immediately to the right of the front door (which was Sophie’s bedroom), and a single room that was next to the bathroom (which was my bedroom). I'm not going to lie and say that the bed had the most comfortable mattress that I have ever slept on, but with a mosquito net and enough space to store all of my belongings I was more than happy with our accommodation.

The house itself was in the most perfect of locations (even if it was halfway up a rather steep hill); not only were we less than five minutes away from the hospital, but we had stunning views of the Rwenzori Mountains and surrounding countryside from the comfort of our own front porch. The only downside to our close proximity to the hospital was the large amount of noise each night; in addition to the nightly chorus of the crickets and birds, we could often hear the students at the nursing school or the late-night choir practice in the chapel. Whilst we managed to get used to it by the end of our time in Kagando, both me and Sophie have lost count of the number of sleepless nights that we have had because it!

View from Our Front Porch

The Practicalities of African Living

In England we often take from granted that out homes are supplied with gas and electric, and apart from having to phone up the respective company and asked to be connected, there is nothing more that we need to do. If only life in Africa was so simple. Apart from seeing my family and friends, the one thing that I am looking forward to most about going back to the UK is being able to drink water directly from the tap. For the past three months me and Sophie have had to boil all of our tap water for ten minutes, and then let it cool before we can use it.There have been times when there has been a storm and the water has turned a lovely brown colour, or even the odd occasion where there has been no water at all. Most of our house (i.e. lights and electric sockets) was powered by pre-paid electricity, and when we first moved in we were presented with an electricity card that we had to take to Kasese (the nearest town) to top-up. Once we had placed money on this card, we had to take it back to our house and insert it into the electricity meter on the outside the back door to activate it. Usually, twenty thousand shillings (around five pounds) should have lasted us a couple of months. However, there was a problem with our electrical wiring, and despite our multiple attempts to get an electrician to come and fix it (which unsurprisingly they never did), we would often use this amount up in as little time as a week, leading to a couple  interesting evenings of cooking and washing by torchlight. Cooking itself was done using a gas hob that was supplied by a large butane canister. Although this was less problematic than the electric, it also ran out halfway through our time in Kagando. It could only be replaced in Kasese, and with no way of getting there for at least a couple of days we managed to get quite inventive with what we could cook using just a kettle and toaster.

What with being in the middle of Africa, power cuts were a frequent (almost daily) occurrence and would often occur at the most inappropriate moment, such as whilst showering, cooking, or even in the middle of an emergency laparotomy. Whilst our house was fortunate enough to be supplied by a generator, someone would still have to turn it on. There was often a rather anxious delay between the power going off and the back-up supply kicking in, and on several occasions it never went on (leading to a couple of romantic candlelit dinners between myself and Sophie).  The generator itself was fuelled by petrol and powered both the accommodation and hospital buildings. Although in theory there should always have been enough fuel to supply power at all times of day, there was a story from not too long ago of the generator running out of petrol halfway through an emergency operation. Without any lights or diathermy, the operation was paused at a critical point and the theatre nurse sent to the nearby town to buy more petrol; understandably the surgeon was not best pleased.  

In terms of communicating with the outside world we had two options; mobile phone or internet. The phone network that I chose (MTN) was pretty cheap, and had coverage pretty much anywhere in Uganda; I was even able to make a phone call in the middle of lake Victoria (unlike in the UK where there are several parts of my own house where I have no signal from O2).  The internet on the other hand was considerably less reliable. The main source of our internet was the Wi-Fi outside the nursing school (which was about a two minute walk from our house), and although there were a couple of benches scattered around outside I would often have to sit on the ground amongst the mosquitoes and the ants. When it was working (which was very intermittent), the signal was pretty awful and I would often have to wait for ten minutes or more for a single email to load; anything like Skype or streaming music was definitely out of the question. However, we later discovered that one of the main reasons that it never seemed to work was because of a man in the I.T. department who had a rather large power complex; he would often change the password and subsequently refuse to tell anyone what the new one was (for no reason other than it made him feel important and in control). Me and Sophie finally had enough of this and brought ourselves an internet dongle. Whilst this was marginally faster than the Wi-Fi at the nursing school, it wasn't much better and seemed to be just as unreliable. One thing is for certain though; I am never going to complain about broadband internet in the UK again!

Housework

I don’t like having to do housework at the best of times, but with a distinct lack of washing machines, dishwashers, hoovers and other such appliances, I like it even less in Uganda. The only way to clean clothes here is to place them in a plastic bowel with soap powder, add hot water and scrub; you only stop when your hands are red raw and the clothes look about ten times dirtier than when you began (I think it’s fair to say that my white shirt is never going to be white again). Whilst I got better throughout my time in Kagando (for example it only took me five minutes to wash one T-shirt compared to the thirty minutes that it had taken me at the start of my three months here), I was by no means up to the standards of a true African women. Once washed we would normally hang our clothes outside to dry. However, as it was culturally unacceptable to for women’s underwear to be seen on a washing line, our bathroom used to become a drying room for bra’s, knickers and socks. 

Drying Clothes in Our Bathroom

Apart from having to wash all of our clothes by hand, we had nothing but a mop and a broom to clean the house with, and to do the washing up we had to boil hot water in the kettle (as only icy-cold water came from the taps). There was no such thing as a garbage collection service in Uganda, and all of our rubbish (from food scraps to glass jars) got thrown into a large rubbish pit behind our house. If the magpies didn't manage to scatter the contents of this pit around the compound first, the maintenance men would periodically set fire to this rubbish (causing a lovely aroma to spread through our house and garden). 

In reflection I really don’t think that we have it all too bad in the UK. It isn't really that difficult to throw some clothes into a washing machine or quickly put the hoover around the house. Naomi (the Ugandan surgeon that I was working with) couldn't quite get her head around all of the luxuries that we have in the UK; she used to laugh at the idea of washing machines, and didn't quite believe me when I told her about bread makers (I have promised to send her a photo of one when I get home – just to prove that I wasn't making it all up). However, whilst living in Africa has taught me one or two important life skills, I think it’s fair to say that no matter what happens to me when I get back to the UK, I will lead a happy and contented life if I never have to wash another item of clothing by hand again!

Food

In the UK I think I had developed a bit of a ‘Waitrose’ habit, and would often visit this supermarket as a form of relaxation after a hard day’s work. Sadly there were no big supermarkets in Kagando, and instead me and Sophie used to buy our food from the local village market.  Whilst the available food was limited (basically any form of fruit or veg that was in season at the time), what we did buy was full of flavour (and also very cheap). However, I'm not entirely sure how the stall holders ever made any money as they would all be selling the same types of food (and all for the same price). All of these vendors spoke in the local dialect of Lokonzo, and very few of them knew any English. Although me and Sophie made an attempt to learn the local langue, we didn't managed to get much further than ‘Good Morning’ (Woburturie), ‘Good Afternoon’ (Wasurburi) and ‘Thank-You’ (Wosinger). When we went shopping in the village our animated attempts at sign language and ‘pigeon lokonzo’ would often be a great source of amusement to the locals, and they would frequently erupt into fits of laughter when we tried to say thank-you. However, this was never meant to be malicious, and the vendors were more than fair to us; we were never over-charged (which is sadly a common occurrence for mzungos in Africa), and they would always throw in a couple of free tomatoes or potatoes if we had brought a lot from them that day.

The Local Market

Our average shop from one of these market stalls would consist of tomatoes (five for twenty-five pence), a pile of potatoes (also for twenty-five pence), an large avocado (for about five pence each), an aubergine (ten pence each, irrespective of size), passion fruit (twenty-five pence for six), bananas (ten small ones for twenty five pence) and a couple of small green peppers (about ten pence each). Also, when they were in season we were able to get hold of a pineapple (between thirty to sixty pence each, depending upon size), mangos (less than five pence each), and even the occasional watermelon (for fifty to seventy-five pence each, again depending upon size). In comparison to a lot of imported fruit and veg back at home (which is normally very bland), the food here was full of flavour and often very sweet; I don’t think I'm going to be able to eat a mango or avocado in the UK again without being slightly disappointed!

In addition to these market stalls there was also a couple of shops in the village, including a tailors, fabric shop (which sold beautiful cloth) and even a small off-licence (where you could buy 50mls of Ugandan gin in a plastic bag – all for as little as twelve pence; we were never brave enough to try it). There was also a small supermarket which had become affectingly known as the ‘Mzungo Shop’; I think we must have been the only people to shop there as they always seemed so pleased to see us. From here we were able to buy pasta, flour, sugar, jam, some cereals (although they were mostly out of date by a year or two), a selection of spices, eggs (that came in a plastic bag rather than a carton), and even the occasional apples (albeit for a much high price than any other form of fruit as they had to be imported from South Africa). 

The 'Mzungo' Shop

There was also a canteen inside the hospital that consisted of an old metal container next to the main gate. Despite its rather small size it somehow managed to sell a surprisingly large amount of things, including bread, soap, margarine, UHT milk and strawberry yoghurt (which, once opened, was a lovely shade of florescent pink). The canteen also sold soda’s, and as were weren't allowed alcohol inside the hospital compound mine and Sophie’s treat was to have a ‘Crest Bitter Lemon’ or ‘Stoney Tangawizi’ (i.e. non-alcoholic ginger beer) once or twice a week (we really did lead a very simple life in Kagando). However, these drinks came in glass bottles that were reused many times over, and we would literally be hunted down by the canteen staff if we didn't return our empties within a day or two. Despite the well-stocked mzungo shop and hospital canteen, we still couldn't get everything that we needed from Kagando, and instead would have to travel to the nearby town of Kasese to buy things such as oats, real butter, kidney beans and hot chocolate. We were even able to buy a form of Ugandan cheese, and although this was nowhere near as good as English cheddar or French brie, it was definitely better than having no cheese at all! Of course there were many home comforts that we just couldn't get in Uganda, including proper English chocolate that actually melted in your mouth (rather than the Ugandan equivalent which quite frankly ruined chocolate for me during my last visit to Africa). However, Sophie’s mum (who was amazing) sent us a couple of food parcels whilst we were still in Kagando. These packages contain everything from Cadburys chocolate to Marmite and Nutella; I cannot even begin to explain how exciting it was to open one of these parcels after a long and tiring week at work and indulge ourselves on a bit of western luxury.

When it came to cooking we would mainly use our gas hob, and even after three months were still pretty obsessive about peeling everything that we ate (I will be quite happy if I never have to peel another tomato again). As I am vegetarian the meals that we were able to make were pretty limited, and consisted of a repertoire of about five different dishes (pasta with tomatoes and aubergine, vegetable curry, bubble and squeak, egg and chips, and our own personal favourite - bean burgers with chips and guacamole). We did however get more inventive towards the end of our time in Kagando, and in my own personal opinion our bean burgers were almost up to the standards of those served in an English gastro pub.

Our Gourmet Bean Burgers

The only type of bread that we were able to get hold of in the village was white sweet bread (it really isn't as nice as it sounds), and after managing to buy a loaf of brown salty bread on our way back from Rwanda we were inspired to try to make our own bread. Despite a couple failed attempts (such as finding weevils in our only bag of bread flour), we managed to get the hang of making rolls from just yeast and normal white flour in the rather strange electric oven that we had inherited. We even branched out and made pizzas, and whilst they weren't quite up to the standard of ‘Zizzi’s’ or ‘Pizza Express’, I personally think that they were pretty good given the fact that they were cooked in the middle of a rural Ugandan village.

Making Bread

Whilst me and Sophie have tried to embrace most of the local food, one Ugandan delicacy that we just couldn't bring ourselves to eat was deep-fried grasshoppers. These are considered to be a luxury in Uganda, and every time there is a big swam people stay up all night trying to catch them. Even when I was on the surgical ward I saw people up ladders trying to pick them off the lights and ceiling; I initially thought that they were doing a good deed by cleaning the hospital, although later I found out what they were really up to.

Leisure Time

Unlike the UK where we are often spoilt for choice when it comes to deciding how to spend our free time, life in Uganda is much simpler. The ancient TV that was tucked away in the corner of our lounge never worked, and without a decent a Wi-Fi connection we couldn't even rely upon the internet to entertain us. Also, with a 10pm curfew for the entire village (where you will get thrown into jail for the night if caught out and about after this time), visiting the local bar was also out of the question (not that there was a mzungo-friendly bar in Kagando anyway). Instead me had Sophie had to resort to good old fashioned talking to pass away the time, and when we finally had enough of each other we would either have to read or try to write our blogs. 

As much as me and Sophie like each other, if we only had each other to talk to for three months I think we may have gone slightly mad. Luckily there would always be visitors to the house to add variety to the conversation topic. There would often be British medical students in Kagando who would pop over for a hot chocolate and a chat, and Naomi would regularly come over for dinner or to paint our nails. We would also have a lot of unexpected visitors to our house, and whilst some of these were a pleasant surprise (often doctors and nurses who came to check on Sophie when she was unwell), many of them were not so welcome (and were almost always only after me). In the space of just one week there was the headmaster of the local school who came to try and convince me to come to his school, a bunch of school children after my email address, and even a patient who had managed to make it past the security guard so that could invite me to his nursery school (and ultimately ask me for money). Whist the others were just frustrating, the last one really did annoy me; I don’t think I have ever shouted at a patient before, but I was far from nice when I told him never to come to my house again. Combined with other patients who kept asking me for money to pay for their hospital treatment and a pharmacy student who seemed to think that it was his divine  right to have  my email address and mobile number (neither of which get got), it really was a bad week for unwelcomed requests. However, it wasn't just me who received these unreasonable demands. Despite being a Uganda doctor on a rather small wage, Naomi frequently has patients turning up at her door to ask for money or free treatment.

When me and Sophie had a day spare, we would often try to get out and explore the local area. About an hour’s drive away was the town of Kasese where there was a supermarket, bank, post office and even a small cafe called ‘Jambo’s. We would often go here every couple of weeks to stock up on essentials and get a decent cup of coffee. However, with the blazing sun and endless dust it was rather reminiscent of something out of the ‘Wild West’, and we would often find ourselves wanting to leave after just half a day spent there. In addition to these outings to Kasese, me and Sophie would visit Kingfisher Safari lodge when we had either had a bad week, or simply just wanted to treat ourselves. Located just outside of Queen Elizabeth National Park on top of a ridge, this small lodge had spectacular views over the Savannah and surrounding area. With several infinity pools and a menu that was a lot more exciting than anything that we were able to cook, it really was a welcomed retreat away from the stresses of the hospital.

Kingfisher Safari Lodge

Back in the UK I usually try to exercise at least four to five times a week, and whilst I had every intention of carrying this on in Uganda, it ended up being a lot harder to do than I had originally thought. There was nowhere to swim near Kagando, and anyone who tries to run will be laughed at by all the locals for doing such a foolish thing (and this is before you even start to consider the dusty roads and almost unbearable heat). Instead I had to settle for skipping with a rope (something that I haven’t done since I was about six years old) as a way of remaining fit and active. The hill leading to our house was also pretty steep, and considering that Kagando was at an altitude of around fifteen-hundred meters I would also count the walk to and from the hospital as part of my daily exercise regime. 

Ugandan Weather

When people think of Africa they often picture a dry and dusty Savanah that is desperate for just the smallest drop of rain. South-western Uganda definitely is not like this. We arrived in the middle of the wet season, and despite there being at least one thunderstorm a day the weather was still relatively warm. As a result the landscape was lush and green, and the crops more plentiful than they have ever been before. Unfortunately, like everywhere else in the world Uganda is starting to see its fair share of global warming; whilst the wet season was officially meant to finish at the end of May, it appeared to be raining more than ever when we left Kagando and the end of June. In fact, it was so bad that one of the neighbouring hospitals had been forced to closed after the nearby river burst its banks and washed away many of the wards. However, unlike England where it tends to rain all day, after the storm has passed in Uganda the sun will come out and it will often become unbearably hot (especially if you are wearing scrubs and a surgical gown in theatre). Although me and Sophie struggled with this heat, we seemed to fair a lot better than some of the Ugandans did with the cold. If the temperature dropped to anywhere below twenty degrees they would promptly pile on three or more layers and refuse to do any more work until it started to warm up again; some have even to been known to complain of being ‘allergic’ to the cold.

No sooner had we begun to settle into our lives in this small African village when it time for us to leave. Without realising it we had stopped noticing the mountains each morning, and our routine of visiting the market each day had become so familiar that we found it difficult to imagine doing anything else. The three months had gone by so fast, and our previous ways of life had become all but a distant memory. Whilst there is a certain part of me that can’t wait to get back to the comfort of living in the west, I really do feel that I have learnt some important life lessons during my time in Uganda. However, even if I have forgotten them all by the time that I am eighty, I will at least still have this blog to remind me of my mini-adventure in Africa.