The Pearl of Darkness

Joseph Conrad’s novella, Heart of Darkness, takes place 1000 miles west of Uganda on the Congo River, but the plot’s major theme can be extrapolated to Uganda, named the ‘Pearl of Africa’ by Winston Churchill. There were times in the past eight weeks when I compared myself to Conrad’s protagonist Charles Marlow; like him, I nearly fell ill to malaria and attempted to decipher whether this 3^rd world country was progressing to become a modernized society or regressing to barbarism. When I first arrived, I did not understand many of the political and social dilemmas Ugandans faced, but was quickly shocked to learn and see the plight of the poor and the political propaganda on TV. Other parts of the world seemed light-years ahead in terms of social development.

I came to Uganda with the objective of learning about the factors that promote HIV prevalence through the lens of TASO’s mission and vision: to live positively with HIV and eradicate new cases. The conversations with TASO staff quickly showed me that a lack of proper education and prioritizing by Museveni’s party and the civil war a decade ago fueled the increasing rate of new HIV cases. I became obsessed with learning about the government’s role in these issues. I brainstormed about potential reforms to the ruling party and current healthcare policies that could have a beneficial impact. However, halfway through my internship I remembered the purpose of my trip. While HIV prevalence is a major concern in Ugandan society, it is not my responsibility to propose radical changes to Ugandan policies. I had to acknowledge that I was just a student observing how a reputable HIV/AIDS organization treats individual patients. I don’t have the authority or expertise to create large-scale changes, yet.

With that said, I believe there are three crucial changes that need to take place. The first is the removal of the Anti-Homosexuality Act. Uganda needs help. The national budget does not allocate enough money to certain sectors like education, the police force, or healthcare. The “Act” resulted in sanctions by Western countries and put a halt to external aid. The second issue is that there needs to be a radical change in government policies. While Museveni has helped Uganda’s economy grow and has improved social services in his 28 years as President, his recent policies are causing harm. His refusal to retract the Anti-Homosexuality Act and lack of adequate support for education and healthcare has irritated a large percentage of the educated population, and placed large burdens on health clinics and schools. The third change, perhaps unexpected, is that Uganda needs to improve the efficiency of oil refineries. Many oil fields have been discovered in Western Uganda, which could make Uganda the world’s 2^nd largest supplier of oil. These new oil reserves have the potential to provide a huge percentage of domestic revenue, which could then be allocated to various sectors of the Ugandan society and economy. It has taken Ugandans a while to finalize contracts for refineries, but as soon as these operations are running smoothly, Uganda could have a large infusion of capital. The assumption here is that Uganda could effectively manage and distribute the newfound wealth without the plagues of corruption and waste (as seen in Nigeria).

During this internship, I had a hard time determining whether I was enjoying myself or existing as a visitor in a completely different culture. Every night, the local news station would run sad and shocking reports such as a teacher sending a student to the hospital (because he pummeled him/her), a wife beaten to death by her husband because she spoke up, a baby being mistreated and burned by the grandmother, and so on. American news stations report violent stories frequently, but I found this Ugandan flavored brutality primitive and disturbing.  Police were rarely interviewed, as they were rarely present, so only the accounts of bystanders were recorded. I felt disturbed and unsettled knowing that these kinds of acts were occurring just a short distance away from where I lived. I was also having issues with local town people. I enjoyed the company of my colleagues at TASO and walking around the various attractions Jinja had to offer, but I didn’t really like the people outside of TASO. I usually walked to work every day and would be greeted with stares from boda-boda drivers, patrons, students – in short, practically anybody. And these stares weren’t just quick glances, they were long, interrogating gazes. The length of eye-contact I made with strangers sometimes lasted for five seconds. I felt like an outsider with the locals scrutinizing every move I made. It was as if Ugandans had never seen a white person.

The most difficult time here was during my training runs through the streets of Jinja. Just like the stares I received when walking, I almost became a comedic figure to Ugandans when I ran. There are no parks in Jinja, so the roads are the only viable option to run on. I would run early in the day, in part to run in cooler temperatures and to get it out of the way, but also because fewer Ugandans were up and about in the wee hours of the morning. I can’t even estimate the number of jeers, laughs, or mocking-motions I encountered during these runs. People would think it funny to try to run beside me, but I’d just pick up the pace and they’d eventually drop off. Maybe it was my running attire, or maybe it was just the sight of a white man running down the street. Locals did not jeer other Ugandans who ran. I still don’t understand why they mocked me in this most universal of sports; to make matters more confusing, Uganda has a pretty intense running culture, producing world class distance runners. My passion for running was tainted by the local Ugandans, and that made me mad. I began to question why I even came to Jinja, and if I was wasting my time helping people who didn’t accept me.

This question lingered with me until about the 7^th week of my internship. I was working in the clinic, bleeding patients when I went out to call the next one in. No one stepped in, so I went on to the next patient. A few minutes later, one of the counselors brought in the patient who I had been calling. I was annoyed because he had been right in front of me when I called his name, so why he didn’t respond was beyond me. I asked him for his age but only received a blank stare. Thinking he only knew Luganda, I asked a nurse to help me translate. After she spoke, he responded in sign language; he was 19, and must have been able to read the nurse’s lips as he was deaf. It was at this point I realized his right arm was limp; he must have had a stroke some time ago. When I rolled up his sleeve to prepare to draw blood, I noticed little burn marks on his arm. They were also on his face. In a mere three minutes, my perception of this youngster changed from thinking he was dumb to wondering what the hell had this kid gone through? After taking blood and running tests, I handed his form back to him. He simply smiled and walked into the doctor’s office to show his results.

It was not until a few days later that I thought about this kid again. It was at this point in time that I really understood that life in Africa is hard, much harder than life in America. The USA has developed a system that supports kids with disabilities; professionals can treat poor vision, autism, ADD, deafness and plenty of others ailments. Kids are usually on their own in Africa and have to adapt to these challenges. Based on the physical ailments I saw, and the others that must have been hidden under his clothes, that young patient must have gone through hell. His life as a teenager is drastically different from those of his peers in developed countries. And yet, he could still offer a smile when I was giving his request form to him. A lot of the resentment I had developed towards locals began to dissipate once I realized this. To me, that kid represented all the patients of TASO who are thankful for the service of a “muzungo,” ie, white person, is giving them. Despite all the mockery and violence I had experienced and witnessed, I felt genuinely happy, finally, that Ugandans were appreciative of my services. I then understood that there will always be people who have different ideas and sentiments wherever I go. Global service workers still travel to areas where life is hard because they know there are people who need support and appreciate any aid they receive, regardless of the skin color of the person giving it. I could finally put aside all the tension and anger I had built up and could be at peace knowing that as long as I focused on assisting those in need, I would feel fulfilled.

My time in Uganda is over, for now. Regarding future plans, I don’t know when I can return to Uganda, or Africa. The earliest would be next summer. With regards to TASO, I would like to be able to raise funds during my last year in college to support a position in their medical lab. I fully understand how arduous some days can be, and with my absence, there will be lots of work with less people. Hiring a technician who can support the lab is a small but concrete step that would improve the efficiency of daily operations.

 This internship has been an eye-opening experience, and would not have been possible without the support of certain organizations and generous people. I would like to thank the Mukisa family for hosting me, Margaret Nassozi for placing me with the Mukisas, Sam Gant ’13 for helping me find Margaret and TASO, TASO for teaching me about individualized services in the fight against HIV, Justin Kibira for teaching me about the larger political and social issues at play, the CPGC for funding this trip, and the readers of this blog. I hope you have learned a thing or two about life in Africa’s Pearl.

Note: Just this past Friday, the Anti-Homosexuality Act was nullified. A certain number of lawmakers needed to be present during its signing, but allegedly, there were not enough people in attendance. Even though the law is gone for now, it is gone for the wrong reason. I have a hard time believing Ugandans removed the law because they changed their attitudes towards the LGBT community; the attendance rule that was broken is a rather pointless technicality that is difficult to cross-check, promoting suspicion around the true intent of the laws nullification. I believe this act shows the Ugandan government is struggling; they realize they need funds that Western countries have suspended, and are now resorting to desperate measures to get money without changing their attitudes towards LGBT. It will be interesting now to see if funds are reinstated and if the law is re-enacted.