The drive to Kyangwali was relatively uneventful, although there was a palpable buzz as we packed our bags onto our two green vans. Flooding necessitated a detour that took longer than anticipated, and the buzz faded into the silent fatigue of a long drive.
Much to my chagrin, the vans were rented from a local supplier and had the words ‘tourist van’ plastered across the back and sides. Everywhere we drove I saw eyes turning onto us, as if we couldn’t stand out more. One of things I hate the most when traveling is standing out. It makes me uncomfortable, not necessarily for the danger as much as the attention. I hate being instantly singled out as an outsider; it creates a barrier. In settings like this, it also makes you a target for endless pestering. But hey, if that’s my biggest problem, my life can’t be that bad.
We passed through Hoima, the largest nearest city to the settlement. A quick stop to pee was all we took, before getting take out containers for the rest of the journey. The meal: a ‘rolex,’ which I would come to learn is a local staple and fan favourite among the team. It’s functionally an omelette cooked into a tortilla and rolled up. Simple elegance. What more could a girl want?
Arriving to the settlement, we passed through a security checkpoint on a weaving dirt road. Signposts for different UN based initiatives and NGOs littered the sides of the path. Arriving at a fork, the vans turned past another gate into a complex of several single-story buildings around a central clearing with tarp structures. This was the medical centre, an important facility to familiarize ourselves with before hitting the ground running the next day. We met the local staff, physicians, and administrators employed by Medical Teams International (MTI), a large-scale humanitarian group running the healthcare facilities. We walked through the complex poking into most of the buildings. The surgical team had to understand how patients would flow from pre-op to theatre to post-op given all the detached structures. With that sorted, we headed for the guest house.
The guesthouse was actually a convent, with one primary building and several small, detached huts. The van pulled in through a gate and weaved through wooden buildings before coming to the house itself, a large bungalow with a dining room and three separated living quarters. The rooms we humble, concrete floors with simple wood-frame furniture and one dresser. Outside of the main house were the smaller huts, large enough to accommodate two people each. Alex, Pradeep and I settled into one of the rooms as the rest arranged themselves to wash up after the long journey.
Once settled, we came out into the dining area to meet with our local partners. The meeting that followed was a formality of introductions followed by some logistical discussions mainly between Tayseer, the MTI team, and the NGO reps involved in the school based projects. This was followed by dinner, where the many different subgroups within the mission met with their appropriate local partners to flesh out the details of the next day. Alex and I sat with the local physician who would be manning the inpatient service, Dr Brian. He was young, probably not much older than me, with a bald ebony head and thin features. He was soft spoken, with a thick but easy to understand Ugandan accent. We were going to essentially tag along with him for ward rounds and find ways to incorporate the ultrasound into whatever cases we were seeing. After attempts to implement these tools in the past, the previous teams had found classroom sessions of little value. We figured the best way to display the utility of the instrument was to just incorporate it into the workflow.
Once the last of the local partners had fizzled out, we all packed our things before turning in with sights set on an early rise. I didn’t sleep particularly well, but of course I never could have. I was simply too excited.
