In which I went out to see the twins and find myself discouraged… again.

Time for an update on the twins. Last week, while teaching out in Amuria, I received several phone calls from their father telling me that they were out of milk and could I please come. I explained that I wasn’t able to come, that cow’s milk would be OK for this short time and I would be free the following week. I got a phone later from Helen, the one who first told me of the problem, that the babies were sick and wouldn’t stop crying. So on our way home Thursday, I met Helen along the road (it was supposed to be the father waiting for us) and gave her a can of formula to give to them out in the village. Then I went promptly Friday morning. They were seriously dehydrated and lethargic when I arrived. I asked the mom if they drank any the previous night when she received the formula and she told me they were tired so they only took a little.  Soooo…. did some more teaching while encouraging her to feed them every two hours for a couple of days. I asked her why she didn’t supplement with the cow’s milk and was told that the owner of the cow often gets drunk and forgets to milk her or keep the calves away so there is no milk to be had. I told them that while I’m happy to help, they have to try to feed the babies something even if I haven’t given formula.  While we were talking I fed Apeo. She really needed some encouragement and she struggles with the cup but she managed. Ochen did well also. He continues to be half a step ahead of his sister.

Ochen Joseph getting a diaper 

So, today I went back. I haven’t had the car (Beckie has it in Kampala) for a little while so I’ve been riding my bike. It takes me about 45 minutes to ride out there and I meet Helen (my translator), and we walk the last mile or so together. On our way through the village center, Helen saw the father of the twins sitting in the shade. So, we headed over to him. He was drunk, sitting with a group of men around a pot of booze. 

This isn't today so the father isn't in this photo but
 unfortunately this is a pretty common sight around here. 

We told him we were on or way to his house. He laughed, said something I probably didn’t really want translated anyway and we walked on. As we neared the home we could hear the babies screaming. This seemed like a good sound. If there were strong enough to be expressing their displeasure this loudly they must be doing better. We walked within the huts and found the mother collecting fire wood to build a fire. She said the babies were hungry but she didn’t have any boiled water for them yet. (their water comes from a bore hole- it has to be boiled to keep the babies from getting sick) Helen and I scooped them up and tried to pacify them while their mother built the fire and got the water up to a boil. Their mother, Elda, was alone there. Her other kids are in school and we knew where her husband was. Finally, their cups of milk made and cool enough to drink,  Helen and I fed them. Elda sat in the shade with us for a second but her hands were empty so she got back up and went over to a mountain of cassava waiting to be cleaned and peeled so it could be dried. 

Elda trying to work her way through this pile of roots before they all rot.
Cassava is also called Manioc in other parts of the world- it is a woody, root that is a staple of the diet here.  It has starch and a little vitamin C but not much else.

Elda told us that she had hoped to sell this pile but it was beginning to rot so she wanted to just get it so that she could dry and save it. She’d been working on this pile for two days. Then she told us she probably wouldn’t finish today because she still had to wash the babies clothes and diapers and she had not yet gone to get water. I think Helen volunteered the use of my bike to go get more water from the bore hole (even though Helen translates for me there are still significant parts of the conversation that I don’t get- which is fine. Ignorance really is bliss.) So Elda took off with 3 empty jerry cans and my bike and by now Mary was sound asleep so I decided to try my hand at peeling this cassava. Helen laughed and told me I was going to cut my hand off but finally she showed me how. It is hard work! The root’s covering is tougher than bark and it all has to be scrapped off so that the starchy white inside can dry to be ground into flour. I had done less than a dozen when my hand started to cramp. But Helen seemed to think that helping Elda a little was a nice idea so she pitched in also and between the two of us we had a basin full by the time Elda got back with her 60 kg of water (132 pounds on the back of a bike- which she would have done in 3 trips on her head if not for the bike). So, happy for the excuse to put down the cassava, I pitched in with the wash. The ladies thought this was hilarious also but I do know how to scrub and baby clothes are pretty straight forward. Soap, scrub, rinse, rinse again, toss over a tree branch to dry. By the time the wash was done the babies were ready to eat again but at least this time there was boiled water ready. Though I did notice that the fire wood pile was almost finished so when she needs to boil again she is going to need to chop some more. 

Well, this post has wandered on long enough. I was quite happy working with the ladies and taking care of the babies but it was nearing 1pm and the sun was high in the sky. I had quite a ride home ahead of me yet so once again I promised to come back. Today was a good reminder of how hard these women work.  I really believe Elda wants what's best for her babies but she is fighting an uphill battle. With her husband drinking away all their money there isn't anything left to get milk. She works from sun up to sun down to try to get ahead but with two babies who need to eat every two hours she doesn't have a chance. Everything here takes so much labor and time. I'm really worried about these two little ones. The are still so small that it could be a touch of malaria or just a little bad water that does them in. They are not catching up as fast as I'd like and their mother is too dependent on me to provide what they need. What if I'm in Karamoja next time they run out of formula. Is the father going to let them die because he won't go somewhere to get milk? 

O.K.- Whatever I write tomorrow it will be optimistic, positive and encouraging. Enough of this already.