Tuesday, October 9, 2007

8 Hours.

Today is Independence Day in Uganda. October 9th, 1962 – 45 years. Unique High School, where all the kids that live in the dorms go that are in secondary school, has a celebration/performance that the kids are putting on for their parents.

More than a few kids last night came up to me and the others to invite us to the school to act as their parents. They have been practicing for a while and last night they were dancing around and very excited about the performance. Rita explained to us that there are four houses and they are competing before a judge tomorrow and the winning team gets a goat. They can keep the goat to produce or kill it and have a big party.

We are told to arrive at 10am and we should know better. In Africa time, 10am really means 1pm. We sit inside a classroom for three hours in the small desks, waiting for the other parents and “guest of honor” – the judge. Two boys decorate the chalkboard to welcome the guests. We are impressed at their skill. Marilyn and Fran (and I) take a picture of the boys in front of their artwork.

While we are waiting, they have hooked up a television for or viewing pleasure. Music video after music video of Michael Jackson. I’m pretty excited actually because I think old school MJ is great. Don’t ever say MJ again. The videos were good except the one with Lisa Presley and Michael Jackson.. pretty disturbing.

Then they play Uganda music videos, which are funny for a while but get old really quickly. They use every special effect they can in one video.

Finally the program is starting. First, they ask Festus, or Pastor Bazira to give an invocation. Then, the school choir comes out to sing the school song and the National Anthem. I know the Uganda National Anthem by heart now and sing along with everyone as we stand.

Each house is named after a leader of another African country. The children present the traditional dances that each of their houses represent. They have all put vines and leaves around their outfits and the M.C. said something that made me unsure if this is accurate, or just what the kids think people did way back when.

When they start dancing I am happy and think it was worth the three-hour wait. Each group is pretty similar actually. Half of the students line up with their backs to the wall, clapping and singing the chorus. Then a group of students acts out different stories while they sing and dance.

This takes about an hour.

Then, each group comes back on stage to perform a play they have written themselves to illustrate the differences between a good student who makes right choices, and a bad student who makes poor ones.

I’m impressed that our kids are the stars of most of the performances. All the plays are in Luganda and only the first one was completely clear. A girl runs away from home after listening to some bad friends and loses herself in the city. She comes home and begs forgiveness and is taken back. Like the prodigal son, but.. daughter.

The rest of the plays are very hard to follow and have a lot of screaming and yelling. One of the father figures in the play often erupts and runs after people on stage. It was actually pretty scary how angry and violent he got. Most of the plays had something to do with getting pregnant and coming home with a piece of paper that said so, and having the parents scream and cry.

The main character of one play drops an empty soda bottle. It burst and at first we think it’s an accident, but realize it’s part of the play. During the five seconds between scenes they lazily sweep only half the glass off the stage. Some of the kids are barefoot and all the muzungus wince as the kids come barreling back on stage, stomping around their dialogues.

If one kid has HIV and gets cut and another gets cut and they run around that stage, they could easily get infected. Luckily Africans walk around barefoot from birth and they might as well be wearing shoes. No one looks like they’ve been hurt. But these kids are so in character that I wouldn’t doubt that they would show no reaction.

During the performances a student comes around and gives all the adults a soda and quarter of gapati. I am so hungry and am glad that they are giving us something to tide us over.

The plays take about an hour.

Next, they announce that the kids will have counseling songs. They call each house in order and the children line up on stage, all wearing their uniforms. (They have changed outfits for each performance.) As they sing their songs, Abdul and Brenda (who are in primary school and sitting between Kate and me) sing along. The songs are typically sung in schools. I ask Brenda what this one is about. She tells me it is about an old woman who wears revealing clothes like a prostitute. ..oh.

The counseling songs take about an hour.

After the songs, Festus is invited to speak. He introduces his “staff.” We stand up even though we are confused what we have to do with anything. Festus tells us later that Uganda is a country of Guests of Honor.

Festus speaks in Luganda. I ask Brenda what he is saying. She tells me, “Something about Muslims and condoms.” ..oh. Then Festus speaks “to the children” in English. He tells them that life is not easy. Getting an education is not easy. But when we come to a mountain we should not pray they mountain away. The mountain is suppose to be there. We pray that we can climb it and reach the top.

Then the Deputy Headmistress stands up to address the audience. She is wearing a smart business suit skirt combo. One side of the outfit is gold, the other black. Jeff says she looks like Two Face (the comic book character from Batman). I remember meeting her on my first day in Ntenjeru when I visited the schools with Erin. She didn’t look very friendly.

She stood up and said some things in Luganda and then spoke in English. “I do not discipline your children with the cane, I discipline using the Bible.”

I exchange glances with the nurses and Kate. We’ve been having conversations about caning this week and we’re happy to see someone who agrees with us. But then the deputy continues:

“And the Bible says, ‘spare the cane, spoil the child.’ So I cane the children. Because African children are very stubborn.”

Our faces are completely straight and as she continues we start shaking our heads no in disapproval. We aren’t sure if she is saying this part of her speech in English for our benefit, but we are not about to be convinced that hitting a child with a stick is the right method of discipline.

“Sometimes you have to open an African child’s ears by means of the buttocks.”

We shake our heads. She finishes and sits down. The headmaster takes the microphone and explains that he is very happy with the new deputy and even though the school has been getting complaints that she is beating their children, she is doing her job properly.

More head shakes.

We think the program is at an end, but then they announce that we will now have “mimes.” Kate and I give each other “WHAT?” looks.

The curtains (three floral bed sheets) open and there is a girl standing in a long, white, form-fitting evening gown with dark sunglasses on. She holds the microphone and begins to lip-sync, “When I call on Jesus, all things are possible!” She seductively moves her hips and shoulders.

I am completely confused. We went from traditional African music and dance to lip-syncing American Christian music in evening gowns and sunglasses.

During her performance, and during others that are in Luganda (including back up lip-syncers), people walk onto the stage from the audience to hand some money to the performer. This is a way they show that they think they’re doing a good job. Instead of clapping at the end, or waiting to give them flowers or something afterwards, they walk right up to the person, standing between the performer and the audience, to hand them some shillings. The person either grabs the money while staying in character, or drops the money and collects it after the performance.

The lip-syncing takes about an hour.

We think that there cannot possibly be anymore. We have spent most of our day here and have not had a break for lunch. And we are just sitting! Imagine the kids who have been performing nonstop for hours, and who have been practicing hours before that.

Next up, Creative Dancing… The dances are more African that Western. Some of them are a very suggestive, and I won’t describe them here. Supposedly the dance symbolizes a hunter and an animal. Two of the dances represent the classroom. One kid dances in front of the others as the teacher, the others are dancing in a line as if they are in their desks. The teachers use hand gestures to ask math problems, when the answer given is incorrect the student is beat on the back.

As the third dance ends, Marilyn and Fran get up and leave. I envy them. They can’t possibly be asked to sit any longer without moving, standing, or taking something to eat.

Creative dancing takes about an hour.

Then in seems like all the kids get up and start dancing around the stage to a Luganda Christian song while the judge adds up his scores and figures out who is the winner. Gracie comes inside and sits next to me. After a few minutes she mentions to me that Carol has fainted. I ask if she’s ok and I’m told that she’s just laying outside. “Is she awake or is she asleep?”

“Asleep.”

“Take me to her right now.”

I follow Gracie outside and see Carol is on the ground and a few people surround her. A man keeps telling them, “Oxygen, oxygen.” as he shoos them away. I kneel down and try to wake her. I check to make sure she is breathing and take her pulse – it’s 120. I wish the nurses were still here.

I ask and find out that the kids have had no lunch at all and most have had no water. A teacher says they mentioned to the students to take water. I can’t believe the deputy headmistress, who put the program together, would not give time for the kids to rest or eat. They should have been supervised and made to drink water.

Kate comes out and I call her over. She takes out some water and I dab it behind her ears and her neck. I try to wake her up again. I have Gracie run and get Lydia. Lydia comes out and tries to wake Carol. We sit her up and even stand her up to see if she will wake.

Someone brings some onion. Lydia crushes it up and puts it close to her nostrils. I check her pulse. It is still 120. Festus comes out and tilts her head back some more. He pinches her nostrils and I tell him that we need to keep her airway completely open. He says he is checking the pressure of her breathing. I don’t know much. I only know how to keep her airway open, monitor her vital signs, and give rescue breathing or CPR if necessary.

I tell Festus she hasn’t had anything to drink all day. He says that it is not dehydration, but she over danced. I tell him it is not the physical activity that has caused her to pass out it is the lack of nutrients to replace those used during the activity. “No, no, she over danced, that’s all.”

Her pulse is down to 108. I feel so incredibly helpless. When I get home I’m going to become a paramedic. I pray for Carol. Festus calls the ambulance, which is really a white extended-cab pick-up truck. We have to carry her down to the entrance of the school, because for whatever reason, the driver won’t enter the school.

Meanwhile the judge has been speaking to the audience inside the classroom for about half and hour and finally announces the winning house. Students cheer and yell and dance around as we walk to the ambulance. I am supporting her head. Festus says to let it loose and I refuse.

We help get Carol into the back seat. The driver has the radio blasting. Kate and I hop in the back of the truck. Some of the Nsumba kids do too and they’re all happy and laughing. I make them sit down in the bed of the truck and not on the sides. We are about 50 yards on the way to Nsumba when a kid tells the truck to stop so he can jump out. He doesn’t live with us, he just thought this was a fun ride and probably thought twice after I made him sit on the floor. AFRICA IS ASODIFJALSDKFJawef;lsdjk

We get to the bottom of the hill at Nsumba and stop. Surely we’re not going to carry Carol up the hill! Festus tells us that he is going to take her to the hospital and that we should just go home. They drop us off, and speed down the road. We wonder why on earth didn’t they just drive to the hospital that is yards from the high school in the first place.

Kate and I rush home to tell the nurses what has happened. Marilyn is worried that it is a heat stroke. “She needs an IV.” We sit and talk about how awful Africa is in times like this and how unprepared these people are for emergencies. They tell us how discouraging and horrifying it was for them the day they volunteered in the hospital. How patient after patient came in and the nurse did not wash her hands once.

Lydia comes back an hour later to tell us Carol still has not woken up. She had to run into the pharmacy in the trading center to buy an IV because the “hospital” doesn’t have any. We ask if it was a new needle and she says it was, and watched them put it in. Lydia has come to grab a few things, because they will stay over night.

In the morning Festus returns to tell us Carol slept the entire night and only just woke up this morning, weak and confused. We are so relieved that she is alive and awake.

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