WARNING: This is a really long entry. The first part is all about health stuff -- feel free to skip down to the interesting part about meeting with Darfurian rebels groups instead.
I haven't posted in over a week, and this is in large part due to the fact that I have been really ill. At the risk of sharing too much, I had a couple of really bad days with my stomach, after which things settled down to the point where I felt fine unless I ate anything -- and then I felt violently, horribly unwell. I went to see a doctor when it first started, and he said, "Oh, it will pass." In retrospect, he was very wrong... he just assumed that I was having stomach issues because I'm white and in Uganda, so it must not need treatment. Well, he was wrong. A week later, and I still couldn't eat without feeling sick, so I had stopped eating entirely. I had also started taking a broad spectrum antibiotic that I happened to have with me, to see if it would be help. (This was stupid. You'll understand why in a minute.)
When I got to the office on Monday morning, I was feeling really weak and dizzy, so I went back to see a different doctor. She diagnosed it as an amoeba and gave me two drugs to take to treat it. I decided to get my INR checked while I was there (for those not "in the know": this is a measure of how "clotty" my blood is, based on the amount of Coumadin I'm taking). Not only did they literally stick me with 5 different needles in 5 different places before they could finally get enough blood for the machine to work, but... my INR was 5.4. It's supposed to be between 2.0 and 3.0, and anything above 4.0 puts me at risk for severe internal and/or external bleeding. Needless to say, I panicked a little bit. The doctor told me not to panic, it's not really a big deal until you hit 8.0 or 9.0 -- but I knew that wasn't true, so that just threw my entire faith in her medical advice and opinion into question. In the same breath as telling me it was no big deal, she told me not to take boda bodas, because I would bleed too much if I got hurt and it would be a problem. Oh, okay doctor. Screw you.
I left the clinic in a pretty foul mood and feeling really terrible, but I went back to the office to try to tough it out. As soon as my boss found out, she insisted that I a) stay in the office long enough to eat lunch (I hadn't eaten in two days), and then b) go home and rest. I did stay and eat, and then I had a colleague call a special hire (a private taxi) to take me home, as I was too miserable-feeling to take shared taxis and had been forbidden from taking a boda.
When I got home, I decided the world hated me. There was a soccer game going on in the field behind my building, and the kids were screaming non-stop. There were also a few drummers that were just beating on the drums over and over again. I literally wanted to die. I was so miserable, eating had made me feel worse, and I just wanted to sleep. No such luck -- I tried moving to different parts of the flat, but you could hear this soccer game (which lasted four hours) everywhere. When the power went out around 7pm on top of everything else, I burst into tears and just sat on the couch and cried for a while. Not my proudest moment.
My boss had insisted that I go back to the clinic and see the British GP who runs the place and is her personal doctor. I thought about canceling, but I ended up calling a special hire to come get me, and I dragged myself back to the clinic. I had been warned the doctor was very "brusque and very British," which he was, but also very warm and lovely. He did some tests, which revealed nothing -- which confirmed that it was Giardia (a parasite that takes up residence in the GI tract), which doesn't often show up on tests. He said the treatment for Giardia is the same as what the doctor had given me the day before for the supposed amoeba, but he said I should skip the first drug (the one that was going to interfere with the Coumadin anyway) because it makes you feel horrible for 24 hours and isn't necessary. So I stopped taking that one, and moved on to the second drug. I took another day (Wednesday) off from work to heal up a bit and get my INR checked again (4.5), and then on Thursday, I was back at the office.
So, on Thursday, they threw me back into things. My one boss called me in the morning to tell me that I was going to go with my other boss to take notes for interviews with Darfurian rebel movements. Oh, okay. Apparently, a Darfurian colleague said that the representatives would feel more comfortable talking to my organization if there was a white face there as well -- so that was me, the token white person.
It's the same research project as before, on Darfurian citizenship and belonging in an independent South Sudan, but these interviews were more focused on the political element: what has the Southern Sudanese government said? How do these movements see the Darfurian presence in South Sudan? Questions like that. We did two interviews on Thursday, and then another two today. My boss told me I should feel free to ask questions if I have any, but it takes so much concentration to take good notes on what everyone is saying that I didn't speak up very often.
For the last one today (when we met with a really big/well-known rebel group, which shall remain nameless), we met at Kampala Serena Hotel. The hotel is huge, situated on 17 acres. It has its own auditorium, and President Mouseveni apparently has an office in one of the buildings. The Queen stayed at this hotel when she visited on 2008, and apparently rooms cost $2,500 per night. My boss also told me that it's on a site where Idi Amin had killing "fields," where political opponents were tortured and killed. You could hardly tell today: it's well-manicured and beautifully designed, with a lovely fountain and pond area in the middle.
So, for now I'm feeling much better -- Emily and I went to Mamba Point Pizzeria last night at my insistence. I got a four cheese pizza with Gorgonzola, mozzarella, feta and parmesan, and it was so good. I am going to dream about this pizza for days. There's another place, Krua Thai, that I want to try soon. I have to say, the food in Kampala is really quite good and varied. Every type of cuisine you could want (except maybe authentic Mexican food), they've got it and they apparently do it well. Chinese, Korean, Indian, Thai, American, Italian.... mmm, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. And let me tell you, it's such a delight to be hungry after the week I've had.
I haven't posted in over a week, and this is in large part due to the fact that I have been really ill. At the risk of sharing too much, I had a couple of really bad days with my stomach, after which things settled down to the point where I felt fine unless I ate anything -- and then I felt violently, horribly unwell. I went to see a doctor when it first started, and he said, "Oh, it will pass." In retrospect, he was very wrong... he just assumed that I was having stomach issues because I'm white and in Uganda, so it must not need treatment. Well, he was wrong. A week later, and I still couldn't eat without feeling sick, so I had stopped eating entirely. I had also started taking a broad spectrum antibiotic that I happened to have with me, to see if it would be help. (This was stupid. You'll understand why in a minute.)
When I got to the office on Monday morning, I was feeling really weak and dizzy, so I went back to see a different doctor. She diagnosed it as an amoeba and gave me two drugs to take to treat it. I decided to get my INR checked while I was there (for those not "in the know": this is a measure of how "clotty" my blood is, based on the amount of Coumadin I'm taking). Not only did they literally stick me with 5 different needles in 5 different places before they could finally get enough blood for the machine to work, but... my INR was 5.4. It's supposed to be between 2.0 and 3.0, and anything above 4.0 puts me at risk for severe internal and/or external bleeding. Needless to say, I panicked a little bit. The doctor told me not to panic, it's not really a big deal until you hit 8.0 or 9.0 -- but I knew that wasn't true, so that just threw my entire faith in her medical advice and opinion into question. In the same breath as telling me it was no big deal, she told me not to take boda bodas, because I would bleed too much if I got hurt and it would be a problem. Oh, okay doctor. Screw you.
I left the clinic in a pretty foul mood and feeling really terrible, but I went back to the office to try to tough it out. As soon as my boss found out, she insisted that I a) stay in the office long enough to eat lunch (I hadn't eaten in two days), and then b) go home and rest. I did stay and eat, and then I had a colleague call a special hire (a private taxi) to take me home, as I was too miserable-feeling to take shared taxis and had been forbidden from taking a boda.
When I got home, I decided the world hated me. There was a soccer game going on in the field behind my building, and the kids were screaming non-stop. There were also a few drummers that were just beating on the drums over and over again. I literally wanted to die. I was so miserable, eating had made me feel worse, and I just wanted to sleep. No such luck -- I tried moving to different parts of the flat, but you could hear this soccer game (which lasted four hours) everywhere. When the power went out around 7pm on top of everything else, I burst into tears and just sat on the couch and cried for a while. Not my proudest moment.
My boss had insisted that I go back to the clinic and see the British GP who runs the place and is her personal doctor. I thought about canceling, but I ended up calling a special hire to come get me, and I dragged myself back to the clinic. I had been warned the doctor was very "brusque and very British," which he was, but also very warm and lovely. He did some tests, which revealed nothing -- which confirmed that it was Giardia (a parasite that takes up residence in the GI tract), which doesn't often show up on tests. He said the treatment for Giardia is the same as what the doctor had given me the day before for the supposed amoeba, but he said I should skip the first drug (the one that was going to interfere with the Coumadin anyway) because it makes you feel horrible for 24 hours and isn't necessary. So I stopped taking that one, and moved on to the second drug. I took another day (Wednesday) off from work to heal up a bit and get my INR checked again (4.5), and then on Thursday, I was back at the office.
So, on Thursday, they threw me back into things. My one boss called me in the morning to tell me that I was going to go with my other boss to take notes for interviews with Darfurian rebel movements. Oh, okay. Apparently, a Darfurian colleague said that the representatives would feel more comfortable talking to my organization if there was a white face there as well -- so that was me, the token white person.
It's the same research project as before, on Darfurian citizenship and belonging in an independent South Sudan, but these interviews were more focused on the political element: what has the Southern Sudanese government said? How do these movements see the Darfurian presence in South Sudan? Questions like that. We did two interviews on Thursday, and then another two today. My boss told me I should feel free to ask questions if I have any, but it takes so much concentration to take good notes on what everyone is saying that I didn't speak up very often.
For the last one today (when we met with a really big/well-known rebel group, which shall remain nameless), we met at Kampala Serena Hotel. The hotel is huge, situated on 17 acres. It has its own auditorium, and President Mouseveni apparently has an office in one of the buildings. The Queen stayed at this hotel when she visited on 2008, and apparently rooms cost $2,500 per night. My boss also told me that it's on a site where Idi Amin had killing "fields," where political opponents were tortured and killed. You could hardly tell today: it's well-manicured and beautifully designed, with a lovely fountain and pond area in the middle.
So, for now I'm feeling much better -- Emily and I went to Mamba Point Pizzeria last night at my insistence. I got a four cheese pizza with Gorgonzola, mozzarella, feta and parmesan, and it was so good. I am going to dream about this pizza for days. There's another place, Krua Thai, that I want to try soon. I have to say, the food in Kampala is really quite good and varied. Every type of cuisine you could want (except maybe authentic Mexican food), they've got it and they apparently do it well. Chinese, Korean, Indian, Thai, American, Italian.... mmm, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it. And let me tell you, it's such a delight to be hungry after the week I've had.
So glad u r feeling better, kates. You had us pretty worried!
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Wow...quite the week. Must be awful to be sick so far away. Glad you are back to yourself now. And thanks goodness for pizza! Busy weekend for us here - my folks are in town - 50th anniversary - throwing them a small party with all the family - Italian themed of course! Then your uncle's 50th on Monday...will be a low-key celebration but it WILL involve meat!! Senidng a big hug...and lots of love, us...
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