That baboon’s fever is what? Yellow….

On Thanksgiving evening while walking home after masticating Zach’s famous chicken fajitas and imbibing my share of Cowboy’s not so famous boxed white wine I ran into Nick, a borehole driller from Australia. Nick was in his Toyota pickup with I’d say no less than 10 of his Ugandan employees. As I participated in the obligatory local handshake (normal shake, rotate at the thumbs, grip and repeat until someone gets tired or extremely uncomfortable) with all on board I asked Nick what they were doing out and about.

“We just dropped off an employee at the hospital. He’s become super sick, mate,” said Nick.

Assuming the employee probably had a bad case of that most common of Ugandan afflictions, malaria, I repeated handshakes and parted ways to go and sleep off my holiday nosh.

That Saturday I ran into Nick again and he told me his employee had passed away hours after they had dropped him at the hospital. He said he had gone from feeling fine to death in less than 24 hours and he was concerned about his other employees. He was obviously upset and confused by what had happened.

Throughout the rest of that weekend I started to hear stories of people getting violently ill in the villages around Kitgum. Strange symptoms were also being reported; vomiting blood, blood in uncontrollable bowel movements and bleeding from the eyes. Something out of the ordinary was definitely happening and people were starting to talk.

I work for ACET (Aids Care Education and Training) a village health organization that operates in all of the areas where sickness was being reported. In our Monday morning staff meeting the possibility of Ebola was brought up for the first time. My thoughts immediately went back to me shaking hands with every one of Nick’s employees after they had dropped off their colleague. ACET’s employees started discussing what, if any, their role should be in this potential health disaster. Many were scared, rightfully so, but it was overwhelmingly decided that as a health organization they should be prepared to go into the village and pass on relevant knowledge about sanitation and interacting with others. An emergency meeting was called for fist thing Tuesday morning at the district office for all health NGO’s working in the area.

Tuesday I received an email from my supervisor highlighting the information disseminated during the meeting. In Orom sub county 10 cases were reported with an 80% fatality rate while Agago reported 32 cases with eight deaths. The report shows Dr. Layoo of Kitgum government hospital as saying, “the strange disease is believed to have originated from Abim district when two hunters ate a mountain baboon.” We had another meeting and the employees of ACET decided that they would definitely be helping in the effort to educate villagers on what was starting to look and sound more and more like Ebola. I was told that some shopkeepers in town were starting to wear rubber gloves to avoid doing business and that using 1,000 shilling notes were discouraged (the bills most commonly used by villagers), I never saw this first hand so it may have been rumor.

Peace Corps office had been in touch with me a couple of times asking questions, as this news had already made its way to Kampala. At this point I sent an email to Goretti with the information from the emergency meeting attached. I also told her the plans of my organization and my apprehension in working in such conditions so closely. In an attempt at levity and humor I also told Goretti that I would, “abstain from eating any more baboons until further testing was done.”

Goretti responded that she had passed the email onto Gary, as Ted at that point was out of the country on vacation. As I waited for instructions on how to proceed my supervisor returned with hand sanitizer, rubber gloves and masks. The teams were divided and they headed for the field to begin discussions with the villagers on staying safe and healthy from this “mystery” disease.

I quickly received an email from Gary thanking me for my email with the attached report from the district; he would be passing it onto the CDC and U.S. Embassy. My first thought when reading this was my email being passed along the chain of command with my snarky comment about eating tainted baboon until it landed squarely on the desk of the big man himself, President Barrack Obama. Probably not, but in my head I could see him thinking; “Who is this jack-ass and who let him into the Peace Corps?” In any case there is apparently a time and place for trying to be funny. Lesson learned.

The CDC and Embassy at this early stage were stumped and Gary decided that the best course of action was to have the volunteers in Kitgum and Pader leave site until more testing in the area could be done. I told my organization that I would be leaving temporarily and one of the ladies in the office pointed at me and said, “This one fears the disease.”

The comment made me angry for a couple of reasons: 1) I was a little frightened of an unknown disease making people bleed from their eyes, but I didn’t want to show it and 2) I felt guilty about leaving my coworkers to do the “dirty work” while I got escorted out with a pocket full of per diem.

So, us volunteers left that afternoon in a private hire (P.C. didn’t want us using the bus system at that point) for Gulu where we would be picked up by a Peace Corps vehicle on Wednesday morning. The following morning as we were piling into the Landcruiser Rasheed our driver said, “Travis, you are making us all laugh!”

“What? Why?” I asked, confused by his remark.

“We all read your email about eating baboon! That is funny, seriously.”…I guess I’m glad that some people can appreciate my humor.

So we took off for the city, at this point not really knowing what would happen. If this truly was Ebola would we ever be allowed to return? How long would we be gone? Did we bring all the stuff we need if we’re not allowed back? What would Peace Corps do with us if we can’t go back?

We moved out as the CDC moved in. All in all it was just a shade under a month before the tests were conclusive identifying the mystery illness as Yellow Fever. Why it takes that long to identify something that there is a vaccine for I’m still a little foggy on, but I do appreciate the fast actions of Peace Corps. They worked quickly in making a decision (which at the time was correct) in what to do with volunteers stuck in an area plumb full of tasty, tasty monkey meat.

(published in the P.C. Uganda newsletter)

Roach Motel

While lounging around on my couch this afternoon watching a movie a large cockroach came in through my front door. He didn't like open the door and say hi, he just crawled right in through the large gap that exists. These are very impolite creatures. Anyway, i casually got off said couch and went to my room to find something to smash my new house guest with, upon entering my bedroom I find another roach clinging to the top inside of my mosquito net. I instinctively flick the pest off my net sending him spiraling against my mattress making an audible thump.

As I contemplate the size and density an object requires to make a noise on foam from a 2 1/2 foot drop a third roach crawls over my foot leading to this internal conversation;

"Travis, if all of these roaches are out in the middle of the day with all of this sunlight what is actually going on while you're sleeping? I mean really, are they crawling around in your net with you or is this just a one time thing?...I don't know man, is it really a big deal? Are they just a misunderstood product of nature? they're not eating my food, probably no reason to get too upset with them."

Anyway, I was able to smash two thirds of them with my African sandal (you wouldn't believe the mess they make) and get back to my lounging with George Clooney within a couple of minutes. Lets just hope the one that got away isn't recruiting others to move in.

Nine Months

So i've come to realize that i have nine months! My mind is racing, i lay awake at night sweating (quite possibly that's just the heat), all i can do is discuss it with my friends and i'm scared to death of the impending date.

October 15th, how quickly it is going to come. It seems like yesterday that i was starry eyed, inexperienced and frightened of the future. Now everything comes easy, i scoff at the men who harass, i'll board any bus, i take every challenge head on.

I feel like all the weight of the world is on me. Who in the real world would ever consider hiring someone like me? Where am i going to live? Am i going to be able to afford a safe, reliable car? Will I fit into society or has this experience turned me into a social misfit destined to be scrutinized and mocked by a once inviting peer group?

I dream of all of the creature comforts, i think of them all the time. Thoughts of all the things i can't have; cookie dough ice cream with a side of fried dill pickles and ranch dressing, late night Sports Center and mid-day Oprah shows, pitchers of cold beer at the bowling alley, the list goes on and on.

I know i need to get in shape, it's now time to take care of my body. I recognize that if i'm not careful all the impending binge eating back home is going to do some major damage to a once mighty temple (okay, average at best...but still), adding to my further being ostracized from society.

I know i'm just talking about moving back to the U.S. but this must be what an expectant mother feels like, right? I mean, sans the swollen breasts, but close......

year one

names people call me and i respond too:

-trevor

-travor

-travster

-trav-star

-ocen

-shammy

-Jesus

-Jesus' brother

*pretty sure the last two are because of the current state my hair is in.

things i have done in year one:

-learned to squat comfortably over a hole for a prolonged period of time

-met and become friends with people who are not American

-become friends with amazing Americans that if not for Peace Corps would never have had the opportunity to meet

-somehow learned to order unique foods in a unique language

-eaten strange things including: large rats bought off a roadside stand (having been "smoked" days earlier), ants and every edible part of the cow and goat

-spent Christmas in a village in the middle of nowhere. Amazing family, amazing time

-spear hunting on the Ugandan savanna with around 20 locals

-done several safari's...seeing animals most only dream about

-hung out with a drunk elephant in the middle of a village for over an hour (that's bull-bull. he eats the spent grain the villagers use in making local brew)

-been punched by a mountain gorilla

-spent a weekend at "the source" of the Nile river

-worked with villagers that are grateful, kind and loving

-seen the world is much larger than America

-learned patience

-realized i don't need to own a t.v.

-realized i don't have enough time left

Jeremy

One of the greatest joys of the Peace Corps experience is the opportunity it has given me to meet amazing people from all walks of life. Whether that be Ugandans, Swedes, others from America or the Smith family from New Zealand, the opportunity to share life with such diverse people is something I will cherish the rest of my days.

Zach, Josh and I (all in the p.c.) met Geoff, Hayley and their son Jeremy some seven or eight months ago at a little bakery/coffee shop in Kitgum. The Smith family are missionaries who before moving to Uganda had spent eight years working with orphans in Romania. The family had a calling to help others, and Jeremy sacrificed a "typical" childhood to be with his parents.

Jeremy, 15-years old, suffered a stroke during childbirth that left his right arm underdeveloped, and his overall physical development less than others his age. I think the three of us volunteers took an immediate shine to Jeremy, for his ever-present smile and teenage exuberance. We took to spending time with the family on a semi-regular basis, meeting for dinner or going to each others houses to make dinner for each other.

The last dinner we had together was at Zach's house, where we made chicken fajitas. Jeremy wasn't really one for the local food, and he kept talking about how much he loved the meal. He wore a pair of DC skate shoes, i told him i really liked them, and you could see how proud he was of them. I would catch him licking his thumb and cleaning them at random times throughout the evening. Jeremy has two older brothers that live back in New Zealand and it was very clear how much he idolized them, he talked about them all the time and tried to dress in the same manner.

New Zealand played in the World Cup and i met the family at the local hotel to watch the game. Jeremy was ecstatic, clapping and yelling as the underdog N.Z. team played to a draw. after the match I said, "Jeremy, tomorrow i need you to show up and act like an American and help my team win." I could tell how excited he was for the invitation.

The above photo was taken during that match. Jeremy, Zach and I, right before the game started. You can see how thrilled he was to be a part of the evening. We had a great time cheering on the U.S., but it was not enough, they would be defeated that night.

Jeremy died this past Sunday, July 11 from an infection in his heart. That match was the last opportunity I had to spend with an amazing young man. He was buried here in Kitgum on Monday in a small local cemetery.

Off a main road, we walked down a tree-lined dirt path to a small gazebo like structure that was surrounded by no less than 50 young children from a local orphanage and other family and friends. Jeremy's casket was in the center and every young boy and girl wept for Jeremy as we approached.

Before the service started I had the opportunity to sit with his father Geoff, as he reflected on the life of his son.

"I don't feel sorry for Jeremy, he's in a better place." he said, "I feel sorry for myself, that I will have to spend the rest of my life without him in it."

He went on to say that, "Jeremy didn't have much, but the way he took care of his things; his desk, the photos of his brothers all neatly organized you would have thought he was the richest man in the world. He was so proud."

In his brief life Jeremy had four operations on his heart, he didn't have the strength and build of others his age, but that rare absolute lust for living and being happy. His mother related a story about a family trip in New Zealand several years ago. They were at a place that was offering speed boat rides to the tourists and there was a sign post that stated: "not recommended for those with heart conditions."

Hayley said, "Jeremy, held on to his father so tight, and refused to allow himself to not go on that ride. We knew the risk, but we figured if it was his time he might as well die being happy."

Why does it so often seem that the ones that have the least or the hardest struggles in life are the ones that get the most joy out of it? I didn't know Jeremy for very long, but there are certain events, life experiences and people that move you in an indescribable way. Jeremy was one of those rare people and he will be missed.

Who's the most underrated actor?

the kid that did the "dude! you're gettign a dell" commercials. i miss that guy.

Ask me anything

the good, the bad and the ugly

I traveled down to Kampala again this weekend to meet up with some friends and watch the World Cup match between the U.S. and England. There was a fairly large group of friends that were able to make it to the city. The original plan was that we were going to watch the game at the British Embassy, but unfortunately those plans fell through.

Our country director was gracious enough to allow us to come to his private residence and watch the game in his living room. As the country director he has the U.S. Armed Forces television feed that all military posts get around the globe. This means that we were able to watch the ESPN feed of the game and listen to an American play-by-play instead of the African broadcast we would have otherwise had to endure.

The game was a lot of fun, with Hayley bringing Gouda cheese and Ted (the director) making us popcorn at half time. There was plenty of beer and wine to go around. Another example of a small but important event that helps a volunteer keep his/her sanity.

On Friday night a group of around 10 of us went to an area of the city called Kabalagala. I had never been, nor heard of this particular area; but it is one full of restaurants and bars. I would describe this place as Tijuana on acid.

We started off fairly normal, having dinner at a place called Flaming Chicken and watched one of the World Cup games on the t.v. After dinner we went over to a large "dance club," and upon entering all of the men in the group were immediately approached and accosted by local prostitutes.

Everyone of these girls was highly attractive and completely indiscreet about their intentions...Get these white guys to give them money. Our group also was comprised of female volunteers, but this didn't matter at all to these girls. We were sitting at a table when a girl sat down next to me and grabbed my inner-thigh asking, "do you want to have some fun tonight?"

My reply, "this is my wife Jill," pointing to my friend across the table. The young woman, "She can watch or join, I don't care."

An other's technique was to hand me her cell phone, telling me to scroll through the photos she had. They were of her in every stage of undress and position you can imagine on a bed...then the last image, a young boy who I assume was her child. Utterly depressing.

Mark, a friend of mine had a lengthy conversation with a young girl about why she was doing what she was doing with such a hi-risk of HIV, abuse and other unspeakable things. Her response was that she didn't care what happened to her, the money was too good and she needed to take care of her family. HIV was something that might kill her in the future, but right now there were too many people that were relying on her bringing in the money.

The other disturbing part was the number of old, white men in this bar that were trolling for these young women. It was almost stomach turning to see how this industry flourishes in person. You see it in news reports, but the reality is crazy. These men were there for one thing, and they had no shame. We talked to one older man (70 years or so) that had been living in the area since 1981. He had a home and started his own bar down the street.

After what I would call a fun/eye opening weekend I made my way back home to Kitgum on the bus. After eight hours we left Gulu for the final stretch to Kitgum. This part of the road ceases to be tarmac and is a two hour stretch of the worst dirt road you can imagine. We have been in the rainy season so there are pot-holes everywhere.

Drivers avoid them by swerving all over the road at a hi-rate of speed. Villagers also use these roads to walk from home to home and market, they are all over the place.

Anyway, I was in the very front seat of the bus next to the driver when in the distance we saw a group of 80 or so people milling around, i knew it wasn't a good sign. As we approached the driver slowed down and we slowly drove by... pulled to the side of the road was a large truck carrying a load of coal and further up was a dead woman that had been completely mangled.

As I watched the scene unfold as we rolled by in slow motion I remembered the conversations some of us had had during training that it would be a miracle if we made it our two years of service without seeing an incident like this. Strangely, I felt very little by what I was seeing. I mean, i felt bad for the woman but I wasn't shocked, frightened or in awe.

This past weekend proved how fast things can change in this country. Life is tough here. Sitting at home watching the nightly news about these types of things you feel shock and outrage. Being in the story, it almost becomes everyday. For better or worse I'm not sure.