::::I've Left Copenhagen for Uganda::::

Good-bye Koboko!

I have visited Koboko for probably the last time (definitely in a long time). I left it this morning for Arua, which turned out to be a hell of a trip. It rained all of last night and this morning. The rain soaked the road and had simply turned it into one big piece of soft soap!

I think Uganda has made me soft-hearted, too. I had to stop in the mud when I saw a pregnant woman and her husband wave from the ditch trying to get a lift for the hospital in Arua. 'Twins', he explained brieftly, as I tried to figure out how soon, and if the substance of this road would affect a woman in labour. They both got in and filled the car with the inevitable smell which hangs on people who live in a tukul. I'm afraid to admit that my gesture today probably made more change in that woman's life than most of the articles I have written so far.

The school in Bereka Village, Yei County, Southern Sudan.

The importance of education in Africa

I used to be a teacher myself, in a Danish primary and secondary school, 10 years ago. No matter where I have been moving around - among Sudanese refugees in Northern Uganda or in Southern Sudan the sight of pupils carrying books and bags on their way to and from school - and the quality of the schools always have a certain appeal to me.

I am fascinated by their eagerness to learn, in spite a lot walk barefeet, have to sit under a mangotree or in massively crowded classrooms, the schools looking like cows' stables. In many cases the teachers are not paid well, and payment of salaries are delayed. There are basically no materials, but a blackboard, and the quality of the teaching might also be disputable.

However, most children are curious like hell, and will search instinctively for getting to know what is outside the village. It does move me to see when this curiousity is not satisfied. Potential is lost. The future of Africa.

Here, access to education cannot be underestimated. It is your only chance to make a difference in life, to move on and out of poverty. Education can enable you to change the structures which determine the poverty you are stuck within, such as tribalism, oppression of girls and women and post-war traumas... just to mention a few issues which in Southern Sudan's case have to be adressed.

Personally, I strongly believe that education is the way to enable people to make the changes they find essential to create their own version of happiness. Get as many African children in school as possible! In particular, make an extra effort to get the girls to school and finish it!

An overdose Africa

Just had some relatively rough & intensive days with lots of driving on bad, bad roads. (If the CHOGM ever thinks about taking the Queen E the road less travelled as in up-country Uganda - I'd suggest they don't take the Kampala-Masindi Road untill someone makes it ready for CHOGM!).

In Murchison Falls the elephants and giraffes were out - beautiful morning sight. In West Nile I gave a lift to a woman with a child sick of malaria. Next, I gave a lift to an old woman, who had to go to TASO in Arua - due to 'the epedimic'.

In Arua I took my Danish passenger to the market for buying kitenge, on a photosafari down Adumi Street and ended up eating pork chops in Oasis Inn.

I unpacked and repacked my stuff, and this morning after putting my Danish visitor off at the airstrip, I drove to Koboko. Then to Yei in South Sudan.

A lot of Africa in little time, and even I have been feeling a little overwhelmed. If you find it difficult to sort out impressions and categorise them, Africa is no good. It is smacked straight in your face. However, I am feeling on the top at the moment, and admittedly, also high. I kind of like it this way.

How to make children and how many?

In Uganda the New Vision today is asking with the high population growth rates in Uganda, how many children should a Ugandan family have? Half of the Ugandan population is below 15 years of age. Half the young girls of Uganda have had their first baby before the age of 18. See some interesting considerations and comments here.

In Denmark the Minister for Family claimed that the Danes are having too few children, and that they should have at least three children per family. At present the average is 1,8 child per family in Denmark. On March 7, 2007 the Minister of Family committed to investigate why the Danes don't have more children. She pointed out herself, when asked what she thought, that the Danes are too obsessed with decorating their homes and making things looking perfect, thus not having the energy for a time-consuming second or third child. Here the Danes commented on why they did not have more children (unfortunately all in Danish).

Ha ha, I do look like as if I am trying to save Africa, don't I?!

I have followed the debate pushed by the Nigerian writer Iweala Uzodinma's article 'Stop Trying to Save Africa. It has been commented on various blogs and even the Danish Sunday paper Politiken translated it and put in on page 2.

The article and the writer pissed me off big time, and in between whatever I have to do in a country where I have been put off a plane with no luggage, I have been trying to formulate a comment.

The man is right. Who wants to be patronised by young American students, or others with a conscience which needs to be cleared? Who wants to be felt sorry for when what you really need is support which treats you as an equal? Who wants to adopt another way of living in return for funds? Who wants to see his tribe, nation and continent displayed as powerless and fucked-up (when you know you make the exception?)

I know I don't!

But come on! - Iweala's argumentation is threadbare and his arrogance makes him speak on behalf of all Africans. Categorising them all in one go, as well as he does with the whole group of ex-pats trying to save Africa. No doubt that a change of the Western way of saving Africa is necessary. No doubt that a lot of ex-pats, whatever reason they are in Africa for, can be a pain in the ass (I know some). But I also know a few Ugandans who would never put their feet in West Nile and Kampala youth who would never date a 'Northener' because of tradition and the history - and the image! The stereotypes and lack of information thrive within Uganda, Africa and among Africans. It is only the Africans who are well off who can afford rejecting support to Africa. They cannot speak for the rest.

I have given up the project for today. It makes me too angry. In stead I went through my photo albums and stumbled on the one photo above and realised; Ha ha, I do look like as if I am trying to save Africa, don't I?!

Here I am captured with Michael 'Dunno' Dume, a Sudanese Kuku, refugee from Kajo Keji. Michael got lost as a child from his family during the war in Sudan. A Swedish humanitarian worker found him, helped him and gave him the additional name 'Dunno', because that is what he apparently kept answering when asked for his name.  Michael was later united with his family in Uganda where I met him in August 2005 in Oliji Refugee Settlement where he is still working as a operational manager for Mungula Resource Centre.

Meeting Kony in the jungle - Did you ever think about how people get there?!

In Gulu Willy Akena writes about the peace process between LRA and the two governments of South Sudan and Uganda.

Last year Willy went to South Sudan on this truck (!!) to participate in the peace process. The caption for the photo goes like this:

The road to peace is not smooth, It's full of pot holes like the one in the picture: Some people had to travel on this Diana Truck to meet Kony in the Jungle as a confidence building measure in July 2006, including of course Rev.Willy Akena.

I think Willly has illustrated one of the most important things for Uganda on the spot with an image which is very familiar to people who have travelled in the area; - Suddenly it's damn difficult to make things move, you are stuck - but I bet this truck got out there - because people got together and pushed and pulled, and I know Willy finally made it to Garamba Forest.

Get the whole story and the timeline for the peace process here.

- When are you going back to Africa, are you finished there?!

People ask. And I reply that I just got back to Copenhagen after three weeks in Belgrade, where I spent one week in hospital to be treated for malaria, and add - that I am not going anywhere for some time. I realised that there is this little scary thing at the back of my mind pulling me from going anywhere difficult. Like a sort of thing saying danger ahead. (Even when my Icelandic brother-in-law tries to convince me that my involuntary time off from Uganda opens up for the option of visiting Iceland for his birthday, I grab myself thinking - those vikings know shit about acute malaria).

The thing pops up when I try to visualise myself committing to organised shopping in Kampala (for an up-country stay), packing my car, driving the 450 km up-country, settling in my house in Arua, and trying to move around West Nile to work. I know my hesitation is grounded in a combination of the fear of another malaria attack (I feel too week for another round) and the fact that I get tired by the thought of the practicalities of making my way round in Uganda.

Basically, I am drained for energy. I loose my breath on walking up stairs. I still have anaemia, and the doctors are also here mentioning blood transfusion as a way out. I am still too worried about long-term impact, and too shocked about my own reluctancy to face my malaria for me to see the potential advantage of the facts that two rounds of malaria in three weeks already is an amazing topic for conversations with all kinds of people.

Fortunately, I know from previous periods in my life of i.e. severe work stress, that in spite I suddenly loose my appetite for life, I know it will return if I work on restoring myself. But in the beginning I hate it, I think it is a waiste of time to take time off, do nothing and bore oneself. But it is necessary. Which is why I am back in Denmark for a couple of weeks, a rather excellent place to be off alcohol, bore myself in the countryside, visit the hospital for regular check-ups and plan the next move.

I must not forget to thank to my Serbian friends, who made it possible for me to survive malaria treatment in a public Serbian hospital. One thing was the professional female Doctor Lidija, but my Serbian friends made it bearable. Even though they were busy, they came for visits, brought me supplementary and edible food, litterature, clean clothes, toiletpaper and soap!

Finally, I have been very touched by comments on my blog from people who follow. I appriciate your concern a lot! Thanx!

Off to Belgrade tonight

I am slowly getting back to normal. Whatever that is - it feels better! The doctors at the Department for Epidimology at the Danish National Hospital have finally granted me permission to leave Denmark, which I celebrated by getting a ticket to Belgrade in Serbia with arrival this evening.

Yesterday the doctors and I finally sort of agreed that I have had malaria. - Well, maybe it was dengue!, the young doctor kept insisting still. For the past 10 days the doctors have insistingly, but in vain, been trying to find malaria parasites and dengue in my blood.

Mistake #1: I took the anti-malarial treatment I always carry with me in case of an emergency without consulting a doctor. To my excuse I´d say that I found myself in the Danish equivalent of the bush (my parents farm at Lolland), and that when you have over 40 degrees fever you give shit about rules, and if you can still read the user guide of an emergency malaria treatment within a hand´s reach you´ll eat it. When I told the doctors so, they flipped, and painted a vivid scenario of me being irresponsible as I could still could be ill from dengue or cerebral malaria.

Fair enough, but maybe a bit too dramatic. I did miss Dr. Stockley for a cynical and down to earth point of view here. Mistake # 2: I realised that the four different young Danish doctors who were part of the consultations all seemed to be extremely sceptical when I happened to state that I´d rather have malaria in Uganda, than Denmark, as the Ugandans seem to have a more relaxed relationship to it. I would have been treated like a normal case at Dr. Stockley´s surgery, not like a guinea pig with a bad reputation.

My insurance company has been the highlight of this week as they promptly granted me compensation for my lost ticket to Belgrade and making it financially possible for me to change my other tickets to actually do some vacation in Serbia.

So - I´m off in some hours...

PS. The best advice I can give to people travelling in and out of Africa, especially if they don´t take any malaria profylaxis - really - is to always carry with you a malaria emergency treatment. You can also get these smart rapid tests, which I´d also recommend - only problem is that they can be a bit too difficult to handle when your hands are shaking too much.

Welcome to Yei

Yei is a dynamic mixture of optimism and pessimism. Walking through the town I find myself changing from one approach to another, several times.

A lot depends on who you meet and how they greet you. Only very few times I have felt intimidated footing around a Ugandan town, village, refugee settlement or IDP camp. But Yei is different. I do have the occasional sneaky paranoid feeling that any minute someone will approach me in a way I can't handle. But I have to try it. It is the only way to see what is what, and to figure out a few things about this place.

Nowhere I have been before beats this feeling of getting a shaky eye contact with a two meter tall, pitch black soldier with tribal scars and thousand-meter-stare. The white in the eyes having turned reddish. The way they are handling their big guns - similar to how the women handle their babies. Casually swung on the back, going with them everywhere.