Week 6

Sandra

I went to basketball again at the weekend, this time to watch the men playing. I was already out - at a mall and found a book called Manchester Happens which is about Ugandans' experiences of living in Manchester which I'm very excited to read. I reached the stadium before my housemates so sat alone. And then a chica came to sit with me. Her name was Sandra, 'Sandra? I love that name, my grandma was called Sandra!' and we hit it right off. Sandra is a Ugandan doctor and big basketball fan. 

She told me that she'd been to Germany (it's very rare to find a Ugandan who has left Uganda, let alone East Africa, let alone Africa) (unless it's the Arab Emirates, to work there, not to post photos in an infinity pool) as part of her medical training and sponsored by a German family to go over.  I was very keen to ask find out about the Uganda to Europe culture shock, as I only knew the Europe to Uganda version. 

Sandra confirms that she certainly did experience culture shock. And the shock at the different places and behaviours perhaps paints the clearest picture of the place you've come from. I was chatting to some Ugandans about the things that I first found unusual and used the example of people carrying things on their heads. And they were all like 'what you don't do that in the UK?! Well how do you carry things then?!' 

Also, chatting to Lisa from PCAU about when she went to Dublin before phones updated time automatically and was two hours early for a conference because she was kind of just going off the daylight (in Ugandan the sun sets and rises at pretty much the same time every day - about 6:30am and 7:30pm, imagine seeing 10pm in day light for the first time!) And also wearing winter coats then taking them off inside and having actual furniture designed to hang coats on (In Ugandan the temperature is pretty much the same inside and out and I don't think I've seen any kind of central heating - it's always just kind of warm here). 

In any case, Sandra's culture shocks can be categorised like this:

The Kids

The spoiled kids. Sandra could not believe how the kids spoke to their parents, how incompetent they were around the house and how many Ipads and how much tat they all had.

Sandra said she watched in disbelief as teenagers threw strops at their parents a la 'I hate you've ruined my life' when they weren't allowed to take alcohol to a party of underage teens while the hapless father grovelled round them. 

Also, Sandra had the joy of being there for Christmas. In Uganda she says giving presents just isn't really a thing or a possibility. She recalls one of these kids booting off because they didn't get everything on their list, and Sandra reminded them that it was there birthday soon maybe they'll get it then? And what did the kid say? I've a separate list for my birthday! 

I was there, shaking my head. 'Can you believe. These terrible spoilt Europeans, I'm glad I never was one'. The only box I don't tick there is the IPad because my childhood predates technology but I am otherwise incompetent and probably was a bit cheeky at times. To highlight my incompetence, dear sister and best friend Emma, messaged saying she can't wait for me to cook Ugandan food for her on my return. I told Naomy and Karen this and they thought it was as if it was the funniest thing they've ever heard as I have barely even pulled together pasta and vegetables, let along gone in on mashing a vat of matooke. 

The Roads

They were beautiful, even in the countryside. And by beautiful she means smooth and water proof. 

The Speed Cameras

They worked. 

White Homeless People

Sandra couldn't believe that white homeless people existed. She remembers saying to her friend how can white person live on the streets?! Eesh. All the white people in Uganda (whites are called muzungus here) are always going to be a bit rich. There are some really rich ones, the ones who seem very Nigel Thornberry and manage to exist in bubbles, bouncing from country club to another in the bubble of a range rover. There are less rich ones, who might be out there for work or volunteering. But either way they are all going to have to be a bit rich by virtue getting here, the flight costs about the same as a nurse's wages for two months. And you can't accidentally end up in Uganda. So you are automatically rich if you're white and here. 

You stand out a lot too. And it's usually totally fine, the only thing that is uncomfortable is that sometimes you are treated like you're way more impressive than you actually are. I think some like this. Sometimes a lot. I don't, and it makes you think it must be so bizarre being a celebrity, or more likely member of the Royal family and treated all fancy when you've not actually done anything impressive, apart from being born on a certain continent. 

So that is why Sandra was shocked to see white people without homes. 

Unexpectedly meeting Sandra is testament to the friendliness of Ugandans. I know it's very 'oh and the locals were so friendly' but I've gotta say, they are. Every time I get an Uber the driver will ask how I find Kampala and I'll say I love it because people seem to be so lovely to one another. Could friendliness be my favourite attribute? Honesty and integrity who? As testament to the friendliness of people I was chatting to my friend on her birthday and in the space of that conversation, a was given a slice of cake and two people said 'Hi Emma'. She thought I'd set it up but I hadn't even. 

The Uber drivers will probably also say that they want to come to the UK too and I'm thinking really? It's cold and doesn't look like a Richard Curtis movie and all you'll see in the news is how the government don't want you to be there? But then who am I to say that sunshine and community spirit are more valuable than free healthcare and education. These will always be the most valuable things. One guy commented that it seems unfair how I  can go to their country without issue, while it's so difficult to get the UK. I'm sure it's more nuanced than that but I can only agree with him. Another says how the British colonised Uganda and then it's practically impossible to get to the UK. Again, I'm pretty thick but this does seem unfair. 

A Visit to Mulago Hospital

Resty, Renatte and I went to the children's cancer ward at Mulago, Kampala's main hospital. We found that two of the patients we'd expected to see had died the day before. Resty, the nurse in the team who focusses on the children, explains that this happens so often and attributes it to the late referrals from the teams there; it may be that you've only seen the patient once before and on the second visit they've already died. And the referrals are late because the culture is treat treat treat, particularly in the children with osteosarcoma which is the cancer we see most often. 

The culture is generally treat treat treat though. We were discussing a patient yesterday who had a temperamental feeding tube and she was going for chemotherapy, even though it wasn't working, just because she could get the nurses to fiddle with and unblock the feeding tube while she was there. One of the team says chemotherapy is prescribed out of hope and out of not knowing what to do it someone dies, if a doctor has known one case of 'success' following chemotherapy, they will roll it out for everyone regardless of how not in the patient's favour the statistics are. Going for chemotherapy also necessitates going to Kampala - which is where I am and I'm not sure if I've said but it's the capital city. And going to Kampala is a mark of prestige, a badge of honour. Roselight says it's like reaching America. And the implication is that you've got out the village, you're in the best place, your family have done everything possible for you. 

In the children's ward there are eight beds in each bay and all the kids are with a relative/care taker. It seems little communities form within these bays and it's not fully obvious whose kid belongs to who because all the women seem to be looking after them. The children's ward feels OK but then we pass the adult oncology ward and on the corridor and waiting room outside the actual ward people are lying around on mattresses or just on the floor attached to their drips. 

It took me far too long to click that to be admitted to hospital you have to have a care taker. Because, as Sandra says, who else is going to look after you?

The two patients we see on the ward are both teenager boys with osteosarcoma. They come from destitute families, and we give them a donation so that they can buy matooke and fish - coincidentally that's what they are both craving. One of the boy's dads has left because he feels the sarcoma is a result of witchcraft which must have been inherited from the mum's side of the family. 

Thinking about going back

I guess I'm starting to think about going home, this is terrible to say but I'm not sure that I'm ready. I think I could stay longer. I've not started any kind of count down because who actually knows how many days a week and a bit is. But I did look at cinema listings at the Light - they're still not out for when I'm back yet which basically means that bit of the future neither exists nor is planned. 

I found myself nostalgic for Europe in a Parisian style cafe too. And I did take 32 screenshots of Pete's face on WhattsApp Face the other day so I guess that means something. I am excited to see my family and friends and I can't wait to tell the St Luke's team about palliative care over here. And I'll be going back to full Spring too, I hope the daffodils are still shouting. And seeing my neighbours in our gardens again after another winter hinernation. I'm excited to go for a midday Chinese with a Sprite in the Moor Market and go to the Lyceum to see Sister Act with Emma after going to Mamas and Leonie's first. And to visit the library and swim in Ponds Forge. And plan a trip to London with my mum. And go see the Shawarma bros with Pete and Ben, my own bro - who have become bros in their own right while I've been away, Ben keeping Pete entertained (in my mum's words).  And Pete messages me after every time they get lit together telling me what a good person Ben is. It's true, I don't know how it happened because the rest of me and my brothers are totally coco loco. And Beer Engine with Alex and Jess and their horrible husbands. 

I'm not looking forward to being the awful person who keeps saying 'don't you realise how good you've got it!? How can you be so ungrateful?' Really not looking forward to seeing Amazon vans again. And plastic wrapped packages. And these bizarro friction free lifestyles we've made for ourselves. Multiple car ownership. And video door bells and CCTV apps. The latest ruling about refugees on the news. Elf bars. This is how I get my heebie geebies. 

Still, when there are so many wonderful bits and people to focus on it will be ok. The good bits definitely outweigh the bad. And in the way we'll always have Sheffield, we'll always have Uganda. I hope.