It was supposed to be a quiet few days...

I was going to start this blog with the story of how my purse got stolen on Friday night, but I no longer feel that it deserves the first story.

I arrived in Fort Portal tonight. It was a 5 hour long drive along an old logging road that twists and turns, and undulates up and down, through the lushest, greenest valleys and hills I have ever seen. The first half of the ride from Kampala to Fort Portal is mostly done on a dirt road, as this highway is undergoing construction to widen it. It has also been raining today, almost incessantly. This means the big trucks are frequently unable to mount the hills. One truck even lost its back axle on a down slope! Thank goodness Dennis and Patrick, two biologists who are kindly giving me a ride on their way to Kibale Forest to study fish, monkeys and trees, are excellent and cautious drivers. We are also sharing the road with crazy Matatu drivers, boda-bodas, cyclists and pedestrians. As the sun sets, identifying any of the above becomes close to impossible.

Papyrus on the side of the road outside Kampala

Swamp lands

Mind the photo quality and the moving car, but this is to give you an idea of the view. It doesn't do it close to justice

Again, the quality is meh, but the depth of the greens in these forests is unreal.

About half way through our trip, we approach a truck overloaded with sacs of charcoal stopped on the side of the road. Not unusual. However, on either side of the road are groups of people, many frantically waving their arms. As we drive through the crowds, on the side of the road is a girl, no older than 3 or 4, lying lifelessly next to her seated, sobbing mother. A dirty cloth barely covers her tiny body which has just been struck by the large vehicle towering over her from the other side of the road. I can see her face, her hair, her mouth... I won't forget them. Please think of this little angel today. She has just become one of Uganda's latest road traffic accidents, and yet her death will likely never even become a count in the rising statistic of the growing trauma burden here. She deserves better, and hopefully now she has found it.

I am sorry to write that first and up front, as the rest of the blog isn't as somber, but she deserved the "front page".

The end of this week for me was a quite a change of pace. Thursday, after a day of interviews and outdoor yoga, the first of the group from UBC arrived to begin their two weeks of trying to improve the efficiency of orthopaedic trauma management at Mulago.

Proof I have not been a couch patato since I left!

 Friday, after a quiet day of research, I agreed to join the UBC group for dinner. We were going to walk to the mall. I hadn't yet done much walking in Kampala at night, but since it was the group's third time here, I assumed it was okay. About 5 minutes away from our destination, as I walked in between two other women in our group of 5, suddenly there was a tug on my bag. I grasped the handle of my bag even tighter, but it ripped right off my bag. I turned to watch a skinny guy with a blue tee-shirt tucked into jeans, run away with my bag into the bushes off the side of the road. I yelled at him and tried chasing him in my adrenaline rush, but I lost my footing in the grass and he was out of sight before I could look up. Gone were my phone, my camera, my glucometer, a small chunk of cash, and some less valuable personal effects. I felt so violated, but was thankful I was safe and that I had lost little of any real value. The group was as shocked as I was. Needless to say, we cabbed back and the group will not be walking at night anymore! In fact, the following night we ate in at the Guest House!

By Saturday morning, a trip to the mall had all my belongings replaced for about 300$. I doubt the snatcher even sold my stuff for that much! Although the my replacement phone rocks and cost me only 23$, cameras in Uganda are poor quality and very expensive. I forewarn you in advance that my upcoming pictures will not be as good! : (

Today, Sunday, the BC group are teaching the local residents and surgeons a basic fracture "AO" course, with sawbones and all. As I wasn't leaving for Fort Portal (pronounced "Foht Pottal" if  you have a Ugandan accent) until 130pm, I went to help. It was fun teaching, but it was a little scary to really see how far behind these residents are in comparison to our programs.

Nancy, head Ortho OR nurse at Vancouver General, and some of the residents at the AO course.

 On the topic of the Ugandan accent, I have noticed that often Ls are pronounced as R type sounds, like Kampara versus Kampala. The laughing stock of the ride to Foht Pottal today was my favorite example of this; I wish I could have snapped a photo. Twice we saw shops with signs advertising their products: Airtime, mobile phone charging, and " REFRESHING CORD DRINKS"!!!!

I am now in Fort Portal to begin my interview tour of the orthopaedic health care workers of Western and Southern Uganda. Before dropping me off at the hostel, Patrick and Dennis took me to the market to get local treats (sim-sim bars (this is local sesame) and banana chips) and then out for a delicious local dinner. The outdoor restaurant dubbed as bar, billiards club, and public living room so one could watch this week's episode of Kenya's version of American Idol. Like most restaurants in Uganda, there are sinks or wash basins along the sides for hand washing. They even come to the table with one in case you don't want to get up. (More upscale places tend to do the hot towel instead.) The food was scrumptious. They first bring out a plate of sliced tomatoes and avocado, the big, sweet and delicious kind! With that comes a plate with minced raw onion, coarse salt and marinated chilis for dipping. Next is the steamed plantain, though I am told this can be casava some nights. Lastly comes the waiter with skewers of roasted pork, fresh from the fire glowing in the distance. He removes the meat to a plate, and then commences your meal, eaten with your hands. Oh, and though there is a full bar here, you can bring your own booze. Dennis had picked up a bottle of great Italian red for maybe 6 dollars which we drank with our meal. Delish!

At the Rwenzori Traveller's Inn, I am waiting for the loud voices to die down so I can get some sleep. At 15$ with breakfast, I am not sure I can expect more. The inn derives its name from the mountain range which towers over this area from about 50 km or so to the West. As the bar sounds like it is closing, I will wrap up too. This week, I will be going town-hopping and so will no doubt have another blog to post soon!

Once again, please take a moment for the poor girl, likely one of many, who lost her life today.

Love,

Maryse