Installment #8--Into the Camps

It wasn’t long after I got back to the White House that Walter showed up again. This time he wanted to take us around the camp and point out a few things that we should know. Christine, an Acholi woman living at the White House and doing service in the camps, wanted to come along as well. We walked down the Sudan road a bit before heading into the camp.

The signs of poverty in the camp are abundant. People (especially kids) wear clothes that are covered in filth, often torn, and quite often the younger kids do not have any clothes as well. It appears that there is a good deal of suffering as well. People suffer from various disfigurements, eye diseases, and other visible wounds. The huts are packed very tightly together, are cylindrical in shape, have thatched roofs (which often catch fire sparking a chain reaction of huts burning down because of their proximity to each other), and often house four, five, or even more people.

We weren’t in the huts too long before walking back out of them and towards the big Catholic mission in Pabo. A ways across from the mission is a soccer field. There was a crowd of several hundred people around the field gathered to watch the soccer match that was happening at the time. We didn’t go over to the match, and instead, we kept on walking. Pretty soon after the soccer match, we walked past several rows of old school buildings, mostly abandoned as the displaced schools they housed have moved back to the villages. There was one primary school that still ran though, and the children who attended the school were out in the courtyard practicing their dances for an upcoming competition. We sat and watched for a little while as the drums pounded, the hips gyrated, the necks popped, and the axes swung in the air (yes, axes…in the hands of possibly 100 primary school students). We kept moving though, and eventually got to the hospital. Walter thought that we should know where to go should we need any medical attention in the camp (don’t worry mom, I don’t plan on visiting again). The hospital had a large gate that opened to a courtyard with a mango tree and a plaque commemorating the building of the hospital. There were some few goats, chicken, and even a flock of turkeys that roamed in and out of the compound as well as several groups of people and individuals sitting on wooden mats in the courtyard. I would guess that the visitors in the courtyard were either awaiting treatment for an ill relative, or were ill themselves and were waiting to see a doctor.

We walked through the courtyard, around several small buildings that were built out of the same red clay bricks and had windows open to the outside as well as doors on some of the buildings. We saw a child receiving a shot in one of the rooms, and walked past another room that housed the maternity ward where several expectant mothers lay on white cots trying to pass their time. At the back of the compound were two larger buildings that appeared to have been built recently. These buildings housed the nursing staff and the doctors. We knocked on the door of one and met one of the nurses at the hospital. The doctor was unfortunately not in. The nurse invited us into the compound. The first room was pretty small, but had several chairs set up with a television and a DVD player set up on a table. On the DVD player, a Celine Dion video (it must have been a single—“I’m your lady” (?-I don’t really know the title of the song, but she sang that phrase over and over)) was playing over and over again. I am still amazed that most of the music that people listen to here is hip-hop music that is fairly current in the states. We stayed for a few minutes, talked, and then left for home as Harriet most likely was going to be done with dinner soon.

When we were walking back, we didn’t go to the Sudan Road right away, instead, we walked deeper into the camp and took a back way home. We saw all of the same images I mentioned before, caught a lot of stares, greeted a lot of people, and eventually wound up back out at the road right next to the White House. One image that will stick in my mind for quite some time though, was a little boy who came walking past us as we were strolling through a mini-market of beans and rice set up along the camp pathways. The boy was probably 12 or 13 and was completely naked. His eyes were both milky white, and from the way he walked, you could tell that he was blind. His elbows and shoulders and knees and hips were all bent at crooked and jagged angles so that he had to move sideways. He also may not have known how to speak as the only sound he made was a whine over and over again. I didn’t know how to react, so I kept on walking. In Uganda, when someone suffers from some form of mental disability, the common response is to just ignore the “mad” person. Eating dinner once we were back at the White House, it was hard not to think about how blessed we were when just outside our door, so many people are suffering.