An Aruan Birthday Party- Nov 1, 2009

David, an international volunteer, was celebrating his 21^st birthday in Arua. Derek, the son of our African mother (Janet- who makes us amazing food and makes sure our clothes are clean), was celebrating his 6^th birthday. We had a joint birthday party at Janet’s home… and what a birthday party it was! We had a feast of Northern African food- posho, rice, chipatti, beef machomo, dodo, chicken, cabbage, beans, popcorn and g-nuts, fruits, homemade passion fruit juice (David’s favorite). The cake was adorable and David and Derek loved it! The candles were probably as big as Derek was! It was great. The cake was cut and Derek distributed the pieces to everyone. He carried a plate full of pieces and each person took one with their hands. After cake, the dancing began. Throughout the day, we met the relatives and neighbors of Janet. There were many neighborhood children (as young as 2 months), a few adults, and one elderly woman who could out dance any of us! We had so much fun. It was so nice to feel like members of this family and neighborhood. Everyone is Arua is so welcoming. I love Arua. Its my favorite place in Uganda, which is good because it is my home for the next nine months. The pictures below tell a better story... I hope you enjoy as much as we did!

Janet and I preparing for guests

Having a good time!

The children enjoying the cake

The 2-month old and myself

The fabulous feast!

The cake with extra large candles!

David and I and our favorite beers

The dancing kings

The birthday boys and their cake... just for them!

Public Health at its Best

Community Net Distributors handing out Long-Lasting Insecticide Treated Nets to Maaji Parish community members

My October was very busy with capacity building sessions with civil society organizations, writing success stories, and gathering information for a Letter of Intent for an US-based international organization. But one of the highlights of my October 2009, was the distribution of long-lasting insecticide treated nets (LLIN) to households in Ciforo Sub-County, Adjumani District in Northern Uganda. This distribution was a 10-day event; it was exhausting for everyone involved, but in the end, when we saw nets being aired out in trees before the actual use, the 10 days were so rewarding.

First, an introduction to the infamous LLIN in the health world. A LLIN is a net that is treated with insecticide during the manufacturing process. The LLIN’s insecticide does not wear off, it is easy to clean, and can last up to four years. Four years is the time that one expects the net to become frayed, worn, ripped, etc after the long use. These are badly needed commodities to households in Uganda, especially in northern Uganda, where malaria is the killer of many children under five.

Second, the event. Many of the days were prep-days. You cannot just expect a project like this to be successfully implemented without it coming from the community members themselves. So, for three days, we engaged local district leaders, civil society organizations, village health leaders, and community medical distributors. The central team (MIHV from Arua, and CSO leader from Moyo District) briefed the district, provided two partnering CSOs operating in Adjumani with the skills and knowledge about LLIN registration and distribution. These CSO leaders then trained the community medical distributors, who are registering their respective village’s household and distributing the nets to each head of household. 69 CMDs were trained. The following day, they headed out into their communities and gathered vital information such as the number of sleeping nets and the number of sleeping places. Other information like number of children under 5 and pregnant women was also recorded. All of these trainings lasted full days. We often did not get back to our guesthouse until 6:30pm, and this would be the first time eating since breakfast. We were busy bees for a good cause.

Allocation day might have been the hardest. This was due to several things: 1) Adjumani was unbearably hot. Way hotter than Arua. The allocation took place at the Ciforo Sub-County office, where we had to sit outside under the sun (at times, shade), which was brutal. 2) We tallied up the number of households for each village BY HAND. Well, half was done by hand, half by calculator. And we were very short on calculators. We had 29 villages and 3 calculators. 3) Even after the training and supervision f CMDs, some still experienced difficulty with the registration process. Numbers were not making sense. 4) A couple villages decided to inflate their number of village households, which made for a change in allocation.

The Ministry of Health is advocating for “Universal Coverage” of mosquito nets. Prior to this summer, the MOH conducted distributions to pregnant women and children under 5, as they are the most vulnerable. However, it has been determined that if 80% of the population sleeps under a net, malaria will be greatly reduced. One reason for this is “herd immunity”. So in our campaign we were targeting EVERY sleeping place. A sleeping place is any mattress, bed, mat where a person sleeps. You could have one sleeping room with one double bed and this would be considered one sleeping place. Or one might have a room with two sleeping mats, this would be two sleeping places Unfortunately, the census underestimated the total number of households (or the number was inflated during registration), so the estimate of nets was off. The allocation was determined as follows:

• Those villages far away would receive nets per sleeping place. Others would receive via sleeping rooms.
• Those villages that received nets based on a “per sleeping place” were:

• All villages in Maagi Parish (4 total)
• Agali and Opejo villages in Opego Parish
• Lori and Liri villages in Loa Parish

Distribution day was brutally hot, stressful, exhilarating, and an eye-opener to rural work. I was placed in Maaji Parish. When we first arrived, people crowed around the bales of nets, waiting to receive one. We set up distribution points, outlined and bordered by a rope. CMDs were responsible for handing out the correct number of nets to each head of household. Some village members gave them difficulty, demanding more nets, trying to sneak in line with a fake ticket to get more nets, and taking the bags in which the nets were. It was vital that the bags did not go with the nets, as this was to stop the beneficiaries from selling the nets off to markets, shops, etc.

However, despite the trouble and some of the flaws, this entire distribution event was just so amazingly rewarding. The sun beat down on us, as the shade was not enough. With the distribution lasting all day, the amount of stress to ensure that it does go smoothly can be overwhelming. Exhilarating because on the drive to the site, I saw lines of people walking from many kilometers away, just to receive the nets- to reduce the probability of getting malaria- to reduce the chances of losing a child to a preventable acute disease. And then at the end of day, these people walked back home, to their grass huts, excited to put up their new net. This net will last for 4 years. They will be safe for 4 years if they use it properly and consistently. As we passed many homes, I could see the blue net hanging from a tree to air out the possible smell of the insecticide. In 24 hours, these nets would be hanging over a child in his sleeping place. And that was the best part of my day.

Now, some people may think that this is public health at its worst. Going into villages, distributing free nets, and then leaving the village.But with this event, the district, parish, village and community leaders were all involved. Follow-ups will be done to ensure that each net is actually hung properly and used consistently. It helps to see the nets as a polio vaccine. In the States, polio is eradicated. In Uganda, some people crawl on their hands and knees through the streets, begging for money. The culprit- polio. There is no vaccine for malaria. The closest we can get is the Long-Lasting Insecticide Treated Nets. If used properly and consistently (every night of the year, with the net tucked in the mattress), malaria deaths will be reduced significantly in Uganda, and this little corner of the world will be a better, healthier place.

Pictures for your viewing:

This was the ferry that took us, our vehicle, buses, and motorcycles across the Nile River from Moyo to Adjumani

During Registration Day, many children watched eagerly as their parents signed them up for a net!

The fish in the Nile... Nile perch, mud fish, eel, etc.... tasty!

Me by the fishing boats on a small stream that leads to the Nile

Supervision Day of Registration in Maagi Parish

The Arua Central Team waiting anxiously by the bales of nets to be unloaded

Crowds of people swarmed the distribution sites, waiting for their turn to get a net

The group of Community Medicine Distributors who made Distribution Day a SUCCESS!

The LLINs airing out in trees so they can be used soon

A Bridget Jones’s Moment

There have been many incidents in my life that would only happen to me, or a select few. I have gotten use to making a fool of myself, which usually provides my family and friends with a good laugh.

This past Sunday I attended Christ the King Church for a 9:30am mass. This mass is in English. Of course, church was packed. People gathered outside the Church, waiting for the 7am Lugbara (the local language) mass to end. As soon as the congregation left, we flooded in. It was like trying to enter the doors to a concert- that is how many people there were. So, I followed the crowd, trying to get a seat. I was pushed to the front, where I found an empty pew on the left, near the front. Not my favorite spot, especially since this was my first time at Christ the King, but it would do! Eventually the pew filled and the rows in front of me were taken as well. There must have been 700 people in this Church. I was the only muzungu (white person). I was handed a music booklet, of which I was thankful had both English and Lugbara songs. I remember thinking, “Wow, David (another volunteer) was right- everyone is beautiful here. And they all have amazing voices.” I became in awe of the African people, as I listened to the deep voices of the men behind me and the hand movements of the women in front of me. The men next to me would help point out which song we were singing. I was lucky that the Alleluia was in the same tune that I know.

Then it happened, and I realized how silly I had been. Bridget Jones, in her movie says, “Stupid Bridget. Stupid Stupid Bridget” Pretty soon I was saying the same thing about myself…

I went to sit down with the rest of the congregation. I sat, but the people next to me did not. They remained standing and told me it was not time to sit. I looked around. Still everyone was sitting. Then I realized, about 45 minutes too later, I was in the choir. AHHHHHHHH! Okay, first, I cannot sing at all. Second, I am the only mozungu. Third, I cannot sing in Lugbara. And Fourth, I am not very free with my body when it comes to worshiping the Lord. But now, in the choir, I realized everyone knew I was there… in the wrong spot. I was angry- angry that the men did not tell me at the beginning of mass that I was in the choir’s seating. I was embarrassed. I was red. I was sweaty. I looked at the man next to me in shock. He said, “Welcome to the choir.”

I was going to attempt to leave after communion, but my legs were shaking so badly, I could not move to get communion. So my way out would be at the end of mass. So, I sang in Lugbara, the best I could, I waved my arms back and forth to the beat, and I tried my best to play the part of an alto choir member amongst tenor and bass males. Yes, this is a Bridget Jones’s Moment. Watch her movie- you will laugh and see what I mean.

Lesson #1: If you Hit, you Must Run

If you “knock” someone, don’t stop to lend a helping hand. Basically, what I mean is, if you hit someone, anyone, with your car/jeep/truck you keep driving until you reach a police station. As I have mentioned, driving in Arua is not easy. Although I have never driven here, I know that being a driver in Arua should be listed as the most deadliest job.

First, there are deadly accidents here due to poor roads, sleeping at the wheel, driving intoxicated, and inattentive people driving too fast. On the bus ride back from Kampala the other weekend, I saw a terrible vehicle crash. There was a totaled jeep sitting on the side of the road. The next day I read that Latigo, the opposition leader, had been in an accident. At 3am, a GaaGaa bus and his jeep collided head on. His driver and friend died. He survived and was brought to the hospital. The jeep that I saw, which basically no longer existed, had been that of this leader. You can read about the accident online.

Second, and this is where the lesson #1 comes in, a few days later, I heard a story of a man who was driving and he knocked a little girl. I am not sure whose fault (sometimes boda boda drivers are not paying attention and cut you off- children run into the road causing you to slam on your breaks). You always have to be a defensive driver. Anyway, this man hit a girl, got out to pick her up and drive her to a hospital. He never got the chance. The villagers beat him until they thought he was dead. The little girl did not survive. The man did, but now has severe brain damage and will never be the same.

On the same sad note, there was a district leader from here, who was driving through Nebbi District. It was told that he was even driving amongst his tribe members- through his home villages. He knocked someone and was killed on the spot by the villagers.

I was told by many to NEVER stop at any scene where someone was knocked. This saddened me, as I have the skills to administer CPR and the resources to bring someone to the nearest health facility. However, you don’t want to be mistaken for the person who knocked the son or daughter, father or mother, auntie or uncle, or friend of the villagers. The best is to go to the police station up the road (who knows how far that would be) and report it. The person’s life will mostly not be saved, but yours will. So, if one were to stay or help, 2 lives would be gone. If you left the scene, only 1 would be lost. I can’t believe that this is even has to be a choice. But the rage of the villagers is more than one could survive.

Trip to Kampala

This past weekend (Thursday Oct 7-Sunday Oct 11) I headed down county to the capital city of Uganda: Kampala. I was super excited to be in a big city, with the hopes of warm water, power, and a variety of foods that differed from the traditional Aruan food (basically, I was hoping for a burger, Indian food, etc. In short, I didn’t get a variety of foods, but I had a warm bathing experience (without heating the water myself), power all weekend, the sight of big buildings, self-pampering, and I witnessed one of the most beautiful weddings I have ever seen.


The pretty and not-so-pretty drive…







On the drive down to Kampala and back, the bus drove over the Nile River twice and through a National Park. I saw Karuma Falls, Nile fishermen, and elephants. I ate ground nuts, roasted cassava, and maize. On a more depressing note, we drove past about five Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs) camps, where grass huts were clustered. As a result of the conflict up north between Joseph Kony (from the LRA- Lords Resistance Army) and the government many Ugandans were forced to find refuge. In some cases, the government built these camps to offer protection. However, the camps were not always 100% safe. Since 2007, the government has taken the decision to move people back home. This was to be done in two ways. First, the north is relatively peaceful so people can go back; the government and organizations give incentives to IDPs (iron sheets for housing, agricultural tools, seeds) so they can begin life again back home. The second attempt came because people did not want to leave the camps- they thought life here was better and more interesting. So now they are being forced out of camps to go to homes. The government is destroying the camps. Also, the government is banning food relief to the camps. This will force people to go back homes. The camps that I saw were along the road, and were those homes of people who were already living near the town centre, where development had taken place. This included elderly people who cannot make it back to their homes as well.






KrazyKampala
Kampala, as a bustling city, is much larger than Arua. The population is 1.2 million. It is home to Makare University, bus taxis, and crazy boda drivers. There are far less bicyclists here. When I first arrived, I got on a boda and held on for dear life. I was carrying my big travelers pack and 2 bags (I never pack light) and attempted to balance on the boda while the driver swerved around heavy traffic, mud puddles (it was down-pouring), and pedestrians. The boda driver here wear helmets (this is very rare in Arua), but they do not provide one for the passenger. They should. My friend said about her boda experiences, “sometimes its best to just close your eyes and pray.” Hmmmm. I think the department of transportation needs to do something about this, considering this is an affordable and common mode of transportation.

Friday was about self-pampering. Joy, her friend, and myself went for a pedicure (3000 Ush = about $2.50) and a manicure (3000 Ush). For that price and that care I would go once a week if I lived there. My nails have never looked so pretty! I have so many layers of nail products on, that I doubt any chipping will occur! I also got my hair cut. Its super short (too short for my taste), but after it has set it, I see the benefits of short hair here: showering is easier and the heat is less brutal on my neck. This evening, I took a hot sponge bath, shaved my legs, and dressed for a night out on the town. I went with a group of friends to dance. They say NYC is the city that never sleeps. However, this night I was almost sleepless in Kampala. The dancing continued into the early morning. I left the club at 4:30am. This is a big difference than my early nights of 8pm, but with the bumping (hehe, Uncle Spence!) music and the booty shaking (hehe), it was fairly easy for me to keep my eyes open and hips moving.







An African Wedding
My supervisor (John) invited me to an African wedding on Saturday evening. His youngest brother was getting married, and I was able to attend. As the only muzugu, I was treated like a celebrity- that was pretty funny. John brought me to meet his parents, his wife, and his whole extended family. I was able to sit by his family and watch the traditional entertainment- dancing and music. The wedding reception was held outside, with large white tents surrounding a green space, huge flower bouquets, the largest wedding cake I have ever seen, lights strung from tent to tent, and a fountain. One tent was for the groom’s family, one for the bride’s family, one for invited guests, and one for the bridal party. A white walkway was placed around the green space, so that when the bridal party entered, their grand march was more like a long processional with dancing, singing, speeches. The entertainment was phenomenal. The women wore something flashy around their waists, whether it was a wrap of feathers or animal hair, they wore them so they had “something to shake” as my neighbor pointed out. Food consisted of a buffet of beef, chicken, small potatoes, squash, rice, matoke (banana squashed up but not sweet), greens, beer, and soda. For the cake, small pieces were cut and brought to each person via a basket. Then the rest of the cake was divided and the bride and groom brought the cake to persons of their choice such as the grandparents, the parents, the aunt and uncle, etc). The bride and groom bring the now-wrapped portion of cake to the lucky, selected persons, while dancing the whole way. More hugging, more speeches, and more music take place. People line up and offer gifts to the newlyweds, who are now standing in the center of the green space. At some point the bride goes to change from her wedding dress to an evening gown. It was beautiful. Pictures speak louder than words, so please take a look.

When It Rains, It Pours

I mean this literally and figuratively. At night, I wake up to the pounding sound of rain pellets hitting my metal roof. The storms are wild. I have never heard such massive thunder or seen such extreme lightening. I am up for hours waiting for it to pass because no one would be able to sleep through the rain and thunder. One can hardly walk in the rain or the aftermath of it. The roads are muddy, slippery, and dangerous. Without sturdy shoes, you are bond to fall. And many people here do not wear shoes as they cannot afford them. It is like skating on muddy roads.

For the figuratively aspect, lets start by the power. I have dealt with a power outage in my dorm room (too many things plugged in) and an outage when a power line goes down. But these were for a few minutes or a few hours. In Lusaka, we had power outages, but the University of Zambia students would strike and on it would come. But here, I have been out of power for the past 11 days straight. And before that the power had been so sporadic that I can say the majority of my time here is power-free. It makes it extremely difficult to work, as much of the work is drafting workplans, action plans, emails, etc. This pass week we have spent many days at a “hotel” where they are equipped with a generator. Here, we were able to charge our computers and phones and we return to the technological world again. The power is suppose to be out for more time. I have heard that Arua can have up to 6 months without power.

Next, poverty. I have seen poverty in the states. I have witnessed the effects that it has on communities. But nothing that I have seen has compared to the poverty here. Now, the gap between the rich and the poor is extremely wide. The images I see are in town, in villages, and on the road. Children wearing rags for clothes and walking with no sandals through the dirt, garbage, and at times human waste. Women sit on the ground selling guavas, mangos, ground nuts, roasted cassava, chipate (like a fried tortilla, but better!). A majority of the houses are one- or two-room huts with outside pit latrines, which are shared with many people, and the only source of light being a candle or lantern (even when the city of Arua HAS power). Young children, women and men bathe in the small stream that flows by the golf course. Dishes and clothes are washed using this water as well.

And one last one for this blog: Sewage. I went to the Médecins Sans Frontières to look for more volunteer opportunities on the weekend. The MSF here is located in the Arua Hospital. While I was waiting for the program officer, an awful smell filled my nose. It was so close to me, I assumed I stepped in animal waste. However, upon closer inspection of my surroundings, I realized I was standing across from 5 pit latrines, each equipped with a smoke-stack look-a-like that was pouring out the fumes from the pits. It was unbearable. There was one gentleman sitting on the curb by me, and I wondered if he even noticed the smell. Or is it so common that the Ugandans are immune to the smell of human waste? What a sad, sad world we live in.


If the rains are so strong, and the pouring does not seem to stop, why do I return? Answer is simple….
The Beauty, the Power, and the Hope of People

With the strong rains come fields of emerald greens. The drive in northern Uganda in the West Nile Region is spectacular. Huts dot the field, women carry babies in chitenges on their backs while carrying two buckets of water in hand, and a basket of fruit on head, men ride bicycles while towing logs, charcoal, or metal sheets. Goats graze on the side of the road, many with full utters, small children herd a group of cattle across the road, and food stands are available for those who are hungry for sweet potatoes, fried bananas, boiled cassava (root), peanuts, or roasted maize. It makes any road trip worthwhile.

Closer to the town market, people sit in stands under this black covering selling household goods like silverware, table clothes, tea and food flasks, dishes, pots and pans, hardware items like nails, string, rope, screws, hammers, and clothing items from bras and underwear to an Adidas windjacket or Armani jeans. It is a Goodwill/Shopping Outlet in one area of town that one should be aware of thieves, the smell of sewage, and the sight of cattle’s hoofs and skinned goats. Every stand sells the same thing as the next. And yet, they survive. The conditions in which the Ugandan people live are nothing that we can imagine. Except when you are right here, “in” it. The amount of power that the Ugandan people, much like that of other African nations (Zambia, Malawi), is mind blowing.

The lessons that one can learn from just ONE person here are endless. The power of a human’s strength and courage is breathtaking, mind-boggling, and heartbreaking, all in one. The hope in just one child, one teenager, one single mother, or one elderly man is contagious. If people can live in these conditions I mentioned above, wake up each morning knowing that poverty, disease, and death are knocking at many doors, and face life’s toughest struggles every day, we have so much to gain and to learn from the global communities that house our brothers and sisters.

and for you picture lovers/addicts (myself included!): I will be adding pictures, when I have a faster internet connection... stay tuned!

Arrival in Arua

Well, after a long travel time from the small town of Marinette, WI to the small town of Arua, Northern Uganda, I made it to my new home. The mixed emotions of enthusiasm, sadness, fear, and excitement filled my mind and my heart. Saying goodbye to family and friends, packing my life in 3 less than 50lb bags, and leaving behind the comforts of living at home, was rather frightening. Yet, as an adventurous woman, it was one that I was excited to embrace.

Arrival and First Impressions
My arrival in Entebbe, Uganda went smoothly. All my bags were accounted for, I used a Western toilet (with no toilet paper- one thing I completely forgot to bring!), and made it through customs with no problem. Any fear or hestitations I felt over the Atlantic Ocean and through Northern Africa, disappeared as I scan the crowd for the MIHV staff and saw a young man (Thomas) holding a sign that read, WELCOME TO UGANDA DEBORAH CASELTON!! I felt at home and my drowsiness from lack of sleep was stripped away as I talked with my first three Ugandan friends: Thomas (MIHV Senior Program Officer), Artiku (the MIHV driver), and Frank (Thomas’s friend). We drove to Kampala, picked up John, the new MIHV Program Manager, and headed straight for Arua, a good eight-hour drive. By the time I was home, I was exhausted, in need of a serious shower, and some food. I arrived to a house that was a cement box, complete with a small sitting room/kitchen and two bedrooms. With no hot water, no refrigerator, no lock on my door, no shower curtain, and no curtains at all, I wondered if I would survive. I have lived without hot water before for four months, but a whole year! Yikes. And no fridge! How was I to eat yogurt, cheese, milk, etc?! I don’t even like milk- but still, if I wanted to drink it, I could not. These were the thoughts in my head during my first 24 hours in Uganda. Even with the freezing shower in the am, the negative thoughts disappeared quickly as I began my task of saving the world with a dedicated team.

The Uganda Malaria Community Partnership
My work in Uganda to Save Lives and Stomp Out Disease (which are my father’s words about his own work) began immediately. I have learned so much in this past week, my head is spinning, my brain is melting, and my heart is so ready to get into the communities.

I arrived at the MIHV office and met the whole staff, including security guards, the office assistant, the Malaria Consortium representatives, a community health intern, and the Program Officer. I will first begin by telling you about the UMCP. This partnership is comprised of MIHV, the Malaria Consortium, and the Malaria and Childhood Illness NGO Secretariat. Therefore, we all work together to promote healthy living practices (distributing nets), to work with 16 different CSOs (Community Service Organizations) in 7 Northern Ugandan Districts (Arua, Adjumani, Nebbi, Maracha-Terego, Moyo, Yumbe, and Koboko) to enhance their capacity and support direct implementations, and to work with the local districts to gain their support in our efforts.

During this past week, I have already visited two districts (Moyo and Yumbe), met the district government leaders of these districts, met four CSO’s, participated in developing Year 10 budget, and developed my scope of work for the next year. My specific tasks include recruiting and supervising international volunteers, working with the CSOs to develop an Action Plan based on their organizational capacity assessment, supporting the CSOs in the next year as they implement this plan and direct services to the communities, and writing case studies, success stories, and articles to share with the Ugandan people and the international world.

The Little Things
My mode of transportation (mostly on dirt roads): Either the staff vehicle (which I do not drive for the streets are too congested with pedestrians, bicyclists, motorists, etc- and no one transports in a safe fashion!), bus, or on the back of a boda boda (which motorcycle and received its name from its use in crossing the Kenya border to the Ugandan border... when one was asked where they were going on the motorcycle, they would reply, “boda, boda!” or border, border.

My nutrition: I eat rice, beans, and vegetables daily! And sometimes fried bananas.

The bathroom situation: I have never used so many pit latrines in my life. Although my house and the office have a Western toilet, the places in the field do not. Some bathrooms are just a hole in the ground, while others have either cement or ceramic surrounding the hole. Squatting has become part of my daily routine.

My names: I get called a “Muzungu” (a white person) by everyone. In Arua, I think there are a total of five muzungus. But I have been use to this name, as in my home of Zambia, I was called a Muzungu as well. No problem, I say! In one pub/restaurant, one woman decided to give me Ugandan names. In Arua, she calls me Aykuru (“joy”) and for when I am in Kampala (the capital), she has given me the name of Nansubuga (this word actually means I treasure a mad fish.... hahah, I dont understand!)

Good Bye United States and Hello Uganda!

Hi! Many of you already know about my new global adventure. I am working with the Minnesota International Health Volunteers (MIHV) in Arua, Uganda to prevent and treat malaria. As a public health graduate from the University of Minnesota School of Public Health, I have gained the knowledge and skills to help change the world. My interests are in maternal and child health, health disparities, children’s rights, and poverty reduction. My focus has been on HIV+ orphans and other vulnerable children in Zambia, however, I am expanding my horizons and am off to work with malaria programs with mothers and children under five years in Uganda. My knowledge of public health and cultures will grow exponentially within the next year- and I cannot wait!

I have already started my journey to Uganda. I am leaving from O’Hare airport, connecting in London, and then on my way to Entebbe. Here I will be picked up by the MIHV staff, continue on to Kampala, the capital, and then to Arua. Details of my arrival will be shared- no need to worry!

I hope you can follow my experience via this blog. I look forward to sharing this amazing time with you.

Thanks for all your support. I could not have done it without you!