on kids...

a bit of front stoop first aid

• On the ward: baby born at 700g in January is inching his way to his 2kg discharge goal. Not quite sure how far his mom was along when she produced the twins (the 2nd born did not survive delivery), but judging by the fact that he doesn't have creases on the soles of his feet and his teeny weeny ears were hairy when he was born, Jennifer thinks they were born at about 27 weeks. Not sure how this little Isingoma is still alive, but it likely has something to do with his mom's relative vigilance about "kangaroo care" or "skin-to-skin" care. There are 2 other neonates on the ward right now, and the three of them are neck-in-neck in the race to the 2kg finish-line when we consider it safe-ish for them to go home. I think Isingoma might actually win!
• Stateside: Children #3 and #2 safely born to my cousin and my dear friend, respectively and chronologically, last week. Both post-dates little girls who wanted to wait as long as possible before making the move to the outside world. Welcome Harper Susannah and Claire Frances! Can't wait to meet you!
• in the market: So, most of the kids around the thriving metropolis of Nyahuka know the looks of the bajungu, know the limited extent of our Lubwisi, and often mock us as we pass. And Saturdays are market days and so lots of people from far and wide (read: from outside the immediate Nyahuka metropolitan area); men, women and kids. We found a crate of tonic outside Iddi's store and we had a CocaCola crate we needed to get refilled so after our trip on foot to the market, I drove back later in the day to pick up the soda. I was waiting for the Coke dude to fill my crate with have Coke and half Bitter Lemon, and of course my presence at the soda duka was drawing a crowd of onlooking kids. First of all, women don't usually drive and second of all, women don't usually buy crates of soda. Needless to say, I had an audience. One kid says bashfully, "mujungu, how are you?!" And I replied, "Wesaiyo" in a similar sing song-y voice. "Eh!" they said with looks of shock on their faces. "Makulu?" I continued. "Eh!" they said again as they looked at each other. "Mirembe" they answered. I continued with greeting them as their mocking faces were turned to smiles of applause. "the white woman knows lubwisi!" they remarked to each other. Even though we had established that I knew some lubwisi, they continued with their broken "lujungu" (english). "give me my money" one of the kids in the front shouted. "Ba na weh!" (no way) I said emphatically accompanied with a laugh. The Coke dude laughed along with me :) I spend most of my time discouraged about how little Lubwisi I know, so to have these kids pleasantly surprised that I could greet them in their own language was no small accomplishment for a trip to Saturday market.
• frightening: Evidently the sight of a white person can be frightening...On Saturday a teenager of about my height, literally jumped back a foot or so, when she turned from looking at some used clothes for sale in the market and met me face to face. I laughed. I was sure to make eye contact with her with a smile on my face and when she met my eyes again she smiled slowly too. Phew.
• Last but for sure not least: Saidati: 13 year old girl with mitral valve regurgitation likely secondary to rheumatic heart disease - sent to Mulago hospital in Kampala (national referral hospital) and their heart institute sends her back with a very professional report that says she needs a valve replacement...ie, open heart surgery...in India...cost= $15,000. Balyejukia the nurse says, "their family, they have money" when jennifer explains to him that is equivalent to 30 million Ugandan shillings, his eyes open wide and say "huh uh, they cannot manage." Nyangoma says to me "this one is suffering from what?" I explain to her, and she says, "so she will die." "Yes, most likely", I said. I went on to explain that sometimes big organizations have money to sponsor things like this and that Dr. Jennifer is trying to find one of them to agree to it. As Jennifer and Travis stand at her bedside, Saidati leans back awkwardly against the pillows that have been propped up to make it easier for her to breathe and sleep. She looks away. You can see the fear in her eyes as her chest moves up and down, every muscle working in overdrive to support her every breath/heartbeat. I wrack my brain to think of something to brighten her day...stuffed animals are a bit young, but everybody loves a lolly pop, so I handed her one from my stash. To say she smiled would be a bit far from the truth, but the corners of her mouth moved up just a bit as she looked me in the eyes. Come quickly Lord Jesus.