Shirley Novak
Shirley Novak is a long-time Central America activist, coordinator of the Syracuse-La Estancia Sister Community and a board member of Doctors for Global Health. Copies of the DGH Reporter are available at SPC.
When my husband, Larry, decided to take a six-month sabbatical from his medical practice and teaching position, we opted to join the growing list of volunteers who work with Doctors for Global Health (DGH). We planned to spend two months at the medical school and hospital in Mbarara in Uganda, East Africa, followed by three and one half months in Quetzaltenango, Guatemala (studying Spanish), and then El Salvador and Chiapas, Mexico, volunteering in DGH projects. Here are some selected reflections of a journey that encompassed much more than thousands of miles and six months away from our usual lives.
Some First Impressions
When one is asked, "How are you?" Ugandans wait and really listen for the answer. Long-horned cattle and goats graze by the side of the road. Venders tie matooke (green bananas) and pineapples to bicycles and hit the road. Throughout Uganda, military presence is everywhere: along the roads, on street corners, in and outside of banks, gas stations, shops.
In El Salvador, people of all ages sell prepared foods, fruit, and candies on streets and buses. Skinny dogs roam the streets. "Western" clothes are more common in cities; most rural women still wear dresses. Entering any home is a special honor, and the guest is offered food or drink before taking up the reason for the visit.
Colors and People
Everywhere we traveled, people were the highlight. A clear distinction is made between the US government, often identified with injustices thrust upon poor people worldwide, and the people from the US, who are seen as revered friends. When folks learned we were from the US, they expressed sympathy for "what had happened in your country September 11th" _ quickly adding how people worldwide were also affected, and they hoped nothing like that would ever happen again.
In Uganda, Chiapas, and Guatamala women walk in brightly-colored long-skirted traditional dress, babies tied to their backs. Small children carry their smaller siblings. In El Salvador, traditional dress _ and 30,000 people _ was wiped out in the 1932 matanza (massacre). Small children here too carry their smaller sisters and brothers. In Uganda and Central America, simple adobe houses come in many hues, with red tile or yellowish thatched roofs. They sit under golden sunlight and bright blue skies during the day and are illuminated by a bright white moon and glittering stars at night. Where there is no electricity, there is nothing like these expansive night skies.
A Few Statistics About Uganda
Uganda is a beautiful country, abundant with lush greenery. Its unique climatic diversity ranges from glacial to tropical within a relatively small area. The infrastructure, however, makes it very difficult to travel about Uganda and experience its natural beauty. Even paved roads are in poor shape. When it rains, mud makes them dangerous and often impassable. People and any moving vehicle are weighed down with goods bound for nearby trading centers or cities. Public bus transport does exist, but it is costly for most Ugandans, and scheduling and safety are not particularly trustworthy.
90% of the population lives in rural Uganda, yet only 5% of the people have access to electricity. The national goal is to raise this to 9% in the next ten years. Municipal water and electrical services in towns cannot be counted on, and service typically goes out several times each week. Because the infrastructure throughout the country is sorely lacking compared to neighboring Kenya, for example, tourism is unlikely to be developed anytime soon that would bring in significant dollars to improve conditions and raise the standard of living.
Mzungu
Everywhere in Uganda, I was a fascination as young and old called out the greeting, "mzungu" (white person). At Lake Mburo National Park, a group of school children approached and asked to be photographed with me at the edge of the lake. Another day, walking into Mbarara (second largest city in Uganda and four hours from the capital, Kampala), three twelve-year old girls, returning to school after lunch, slowed their pace to talk with me. They wanted to hear about my family, schools in the US, and kids their age. Walking along, dressed in her short-sleeved, light green uniform, one girl held out her arm to mine, to compare skin color. I felt sad as she commented how beautiful my skin was compared to hers. After years of exposure to Coke billboards and ads for hair-care products and make-up depicting light skinned beauties enjoying life, she had grown up believing that white is beautiful, dark is not. Each time I responded that her color was beautiful to me, she spoke more strongly saying the opposite. Finally this mzungu said, "I believe whatever is natural is the most beautiful, and something to be proud of." Her smile grew broader as we continued to walk.
Water
Throughout our trip, the locals' spiritual connection to water was easily observed and understood. Most people we encountered were farmers, bound to the land, and completely dependent on what the earth put forth _ or didn't. In Uganda a distinct change in the annual pattern of rainfall was taking place that had locals concerned.
In communities throughout Mexico, El Salvador, Guatemala and the US, strange weather changes and environmental destruction are worrying locals, too. When it poured during Christmas week, our home-stay family in Guatemala said it had never rained before in December. This year's drought in many areas of El Salvador resulted in less food on the table, fewer crops sent to market, and an increased financial burden as the ancient tradition of saving the biggest and best ears of corn for the next season's seed was not possible. The meager crop had all been consumed and farmers were now forced to borrow money to buy corn seed _ a crisis in itself. Globalization has brought yet another disaster. "Modern" genetically modified seed is incapable of reproducing itself, forcing farmers into a cycle of buying seed year after year, and going further into debt with loans that they are unable to repay without abundant harvest. Even farmers in remote communities are aware of this modern plague and are angry and fearful about the future.
Privatization and water commerce in many parts of the world also greatly affect poor people and are causing fear in many of the communities we visited. Nowhere is this more obvious than in Syracuse's Sister Community, La Estancia, El Salvador, where four sites along the only unpolluted river in the country, the Río Torola, have been chosen for a hydroelectric dam. "No one, no government has the right to own a river." "If this dam is built, it will take away water from our communities. We will die." "Our ancestors lived here for centuries and kept the river clean for us, and our children. It is not right. No one has the right." The campesinos in Estancia speak clearly of their reality, their fears and their determination to fight against the dam. United, representatives of the five caseríos (neighborhoods or villages) of Estancia are working with La Carolina, an upstream community also threatened by the proposed dam.
Medical Care and the Hospital
There are many issues related to poverty and the lack of needed health care, from basic sanitation and preventive services to hospital and other resources devoted to AIDS, and a host of other serious diseases. We hope to speak more about these in the future, and share information about Doctors for Global Health and other examples of international cooperation.
Survival and Community
Large numbers of people feel disenfranchised, neither provided for nor cared about by local and national governments. "The poor" report that they're getting poorer, with fewer resources to count on, as "the rich" get richer. Workers' rights are in jeopardy all over the world, as they are expected to labor more hours for less pay and fewer benefits. People are struggling simply to survive.
There is a simple but profound understanding that can come from lack of money. When there is little, materialism does not become the driving force, as it is in our North American culture. "People before profit" is a spirit that replaces it _ or rather remains in place. I see this as Community. "By struggling together, we'll be more certain of survival." I had heard this for years in El Salvador, and among the Zapatistas of Chiapas as they confront militaries and governments bent on denying their basic human rights. Now I heard and saw this same resolve in Uganda. A tribal structure of Community reveres elders; children grow up with respect for the elders as well as those who came before.
"People before profit" speaks with one strong voice that supports the weakest, provides for the oldest, encourages the youngest, protects the most vulnerable. "Community" says you will not build this dam on our river. "Community" says our children will be educated even if the government chooses not to build a school or send a teacher. "Community" says all will eat even if one family's crop fails. "Community" says all will be treated with dignity, respect, as equals. When their husbands and sons disappeared during the Salvadoran civil war, it's what allowed women in Naranjera to walk several miles to confront army officials at barracks in San Francisco Gotera. And the list goes on and on. It is saying yes to life with social justice and dignity for all, and working together with the resources at hand _ men, women and children _ as one Community.
Returning Home
The adjustment to being at home after nearly six months away has been difficult. In East Africa, Mexico and Central America, the list of injustices goes on and on. Across the continents, despite differences in cultures, languages, etc., I ask, "Why so many similarities?" What can be done to tip the scales in the direction of social justice? International solidarity is clearly one important answer. My conclusions, home now several months, are a work in progress. I feel privileged to have received "The Gift" _ to witness the faith, courage and hope with which people live as they struggle for survival. "The Gift" has a great deal more to do with people and much less to do with things. And not least of all, the valuable lesson is reinforced again: they have less because we have more.