Work started in a rather blasé way. Jenna and I edited some video footage while we waited to go to the field. The Heath team was conducting a community health programme where they partnered with a local health center to do on sight testing for HIV. The Salama Shield drama group was preforming, and Benon wanted us to get a video of the group’s performance. At around 11:00 Benon notified us that “we are going,” and Jenna and I slid into one of the trucks where we waited for half an hour before we left. For a bit of that time we amused ourselves watching the drama group (around ten people) stuff themselves into the cab of the other truck, and pile themselves on top of the instruments in the back. Jenna and I both wondered how the ones sitting on the chrome detail of the truck were going to stay on the truck down the dirt roads. A few people transphered into the back of our truck, and then the other truck headed off.
Juma, our driver, disappeared at one point in the loading process. As we waited for Juma to return, I drifted in and out of consciousness for about twenty minuets while Jenna finished the literary magazine she brought with her. He reappeared and we started off by driving the opposite direction as the other truck had gone. Confused Jenna and I waited inside the truck as we drove to town to get chapatti, back to Salama Shield to get something forgotten, then the half an hour drive out to Kaliiro Health Center to pick up the African drums, then to Kaliiro where we were hosting the event. We pulled up over an hour in the truck. We lucked out though because we did not have to helps set up the tents like Sandra and Claire had. They also told us that if we talked to the preacher to just say that we were religious Christians to save ourselves a headache. I didn’t end up talking to him at all so I guess that worked out well.
The event took place on the side of the road in what would be considered Kaliiro town center, which consists of about twenty buildings lining either side of the dirt road. We had one large white tent with no sides and a smaller green one with sides set up in a gap between two buildings. Another green tent sat in front of one of the buildings. The enclosed green tents were where the testing and counselling took place. The white tent with a white tarp underneath was where people sat as they waited for the health counsellors to come, and for their results to come out once they finished testing. To attract peoples attention the drama group set up near the road in front of the white tent.
The four mzungu watched in amazement as the drama group tuned the drums by placing them on the ground around a small fire. The heat dried the hide used to make the drums to tighten it and give it the proper bounce. I took a few pictures of everyone, then Jenna, Claire, Sandra, and I settled down onto the tarp for what would be a very long afternoon. At around 1:00 the drama group started preforming. The music worked like the pied pipers pipe. A primary school let their children out for lunch around that time, and they soon flooded the court area (they had actually been let out right as Sandra was using the washroom that faced the school and decided not to shut the door all the way, but luckily they were all too far away to see her). I filmed a bit, but the group was just warming up. Around 1:30 they really got going.
Once all the drums were tuned one of the dancers started to sing. The rest of the group responded then she sang another line. It went much like what you heard in elementary school when you were learning about African music. And that’s because it is. The drummers started to drum, and then the “madness” ensued. The dancers wore green tops to just below their brests. The rest of their torso to their waits was wrapped in a white cloth that connected to a red, gold, and purple striped skirt with “Salama Drama Group” stamped onto it. Tassels were attached to the back of their skirts, with a half moon of fur that went just bellow their bums tied around their waists. I have never seen anyone move quite like they did. As they stepped their buts shook at lightning speed. Their hip and food movements put hula dancers to shame.
I filmed the performance for about 15 minuets then decided that would be enough footage to have to go through so I went to sit down. I felt so amazed to see them dance. I remarked to the other three that we were in a special situation. We were fortunate enough to see traditional music and dance in a community setting. This performance was not designed for mzungu. A resort did not pay these dancers and musicians or Safari Company to show mzungu what “Uganda” is. They were there donating their time to entertain and draw in community members so they could test. The music and dance was for Ugandans by Ugandans. As they danced one would drop out or switch to playing the gourd shakers. One woman had her baby on her back, and another’s one year old banged away on the drums better than I can. It made the whole performance seem so much more genuine. So much more alive.
The testing was an event to be reckoned with. The community started to arrive over the next hour, and continued to come. Elana, one of the Ugandan health interns, Richard, and Senga signed people up as we waited for the health workers to join us. Almost without exception they all came in their best close, many of the women wearing their traditional Ugandan dresses. Young, old, women, children, men, everyone came out to the site. By the end of the day almost 200 people showed up to get tested (this includes Sandra and I, but more on that later). Sandra explained to us that these events were important because many community members expressed to Salama Shield that they felt afraid, and a bit ashamed of going to the health center to get tested. In talking with the community, however, Salama Shield discovered that people were more open to testing in a situation like this one. While it is terrifying to be testing and find out your status with so many people around, it is more comforting for the community to be with the people they know, and to know they are not alone. Watching the people come all-day and hearing made me a bit teary eyed. Because Salama Shield engaged in dialogues with the community and partnered with the Kaliiro Health Center almost 200 people of all ages came to know their status.
For the next few hours the four of us mzungus chilled underneath the tent. Jenna felt sick for a bit so she went to hand out in the truck away from the people. Our goal throughout the day became to not get dust in our eyes. The dry season is approaching, and because of that the topsoil is turning to dust. That combined with exceptional wind led to a difficult time keeping it out of our eyes.
The drama group had stopped playing to rest at around two. The school bell rung calling most of the children back, though a few stayed with their parents to get tested. The doctors and health workers had also just arrived. We all nearly went deaf as Robert and Juma set up the generator and loud speakers. The megaphone screeched fro ten minuets as they played recorded music to give the drama group a rest. Sandra and I were convinced that that would be how we died in Africa. Not of some strange disease or malaria, but due to bleeding from our ears caused by the high pitch of the sound system. Luckily for us they figured it out. Once the health workers showed up they used the sound system to hold a Q&A session. Richard translated while members of the community asked questions they had about HIV and AIDS into the loud microphone. They health worker would then answer the questions in the same fashion in attempts to “sensitise” the crowd.
When the results started to come back the health worker went and sat in the cab of one of the trucks to tell people their status. At this point the drama group felt rested and decided to start again. I sat on the tarp watching and a man motioned to me and the other mzungu. On the way over Senga had announced that the mzungu would be doing Ugandan dance, and I guess he decided to make good on that promise. One of the women came up and tied one of the furs around my waste. I started to follow the man and shake my butt. The whole crowd erupted with laughter and cheers. I felt like I was doing pretty well for the first couple minuets or so. My butt felt like it had been possessed and that Miley Cyrus had nothing on me. Senga saw me dancing and had me do the traditional shouts that went with the dance. I could barely dance because I wanted to laugh so hard. Claire soon joined me, and the two mzungu made fools of ourselves while Sandra filmed from the sideline.
The man sat down and two of the drama group dancer women took over in leading Clair and I. While I danced one of the drama group members came up to say thank you. She extended her hand out to shake mine. Except she wanted to do more thank shake my hand. To say thank you and show that she appreciated my dancing she placed a 500 shilling coin into my hand. Four other members of the community came up to say thank you over the course of my dance and placed 100 and 200-shilling coins into my hands. Claire also made some money. When we finished I joked that we can consider ourselves official buskers now. I appreciated the money, but it did make it a bit more difficult to dance.
Now for those of you who have never done Ugandan dancing, which I’m guessing is almost everyone reading this, it is exhausting. Your quads gluteus and a bit of your abs start to burn after about five or so minuets. They made us dance for about half an hour. It didn’t help that I wore a three quarter sleeve sweater and a heavy cotton wrap skirt (that I kept thinking would fall down, it didn’t though). By the time the song finished I could barely walk my sweaty shaking body to the backside of the white tent to sit down.
We waited in the tent for things to wind down for about another three hours. People continued to come and test. We shifted our seated positions about every 20 minuets as our legs continued to numb. We sat with our legs folded to one side, then the other, then stretched out in front leaning on our arms until our arms went sore, then seated legs out arms folded until our backs got sore, then wrapped our legs to one side again. One little girl started to play with Jenna’s feet. This hygiene concerned us all because by that point the tarp had engrained dirt into the small creased in our feet and ankles.
I got up to film a bit more when the drama group started to sing about AIDS. Robert came up and told me I should also film the crowd. So I did. It made me feel uncomfortable though when he told me to film inside the tent where Richard was counselling people about their status. At around four thirty things started wind down. They shut the generator off which left a dull buzzing noise in our ears as they adjusted to a normal volume level. Juma walked around handing kids tablets to help with parasites, and Claire and I tried to find shade to stand in (we were sick of sitting).
On Tuesday when Senga and Claire had been doing the mobilization (telling people about the event) Senga had said that the mzungu would be testing to reduce stigma-surrounding testing. Claire told this to me Tuesday in the evening, and asked if I would do it with her and Sandra. I said yes. It turned to 4:30, and no one had told us to test. All day I weighed the benefits and fears around taking the test. On the one hand I could not think of any ways I could have contracted HIV, on the other I had never been tested and did not know for sure. What if I came back positive? There were people everywhere too. Would I want to find out my status in front of all of them? I decided it would be better to test. I filled out the form and marched over to the testing tent with Sandra who decided to join in testing. We waited for one person in front of us then walked in with Clair tagging along for moral support (i.e. she wanted to see the test done). The doctor took my form. He told me to stick out my hand then swabbed my finger with an alcohol wipe. He pulled a blue blob out of one box, and a test strip out of another. He pulled a circle off the top to expose a small needle, and then pricked my finger. After squeezing a few drops of blood onto the test strip he handed me a cotton ball and told me to stay seated. I am not sure why, but I had to do the test again. He placed my strip on my form then added the blood reactant that would determine if I was positive or not. While Sandra tested I watched my blood and the reactint slide up the strip and make it a pink colour. I felt a pang of fear. The unknown can terrify a person, and the unknown meaning of that small strip sent moths fluttering in my stomach.
Sandra and I showed Senga that we tested and she cheered for us. She said she would go test soon too. She disappeared to the tent, and when she came back she asked if we needed councling. The moths in my stomach found a light and rushed at it. Councling started from the moment you tested, but I worried she knew something I didn’t. Sandra and I said it would depend on if we were positive or not.
A minuet later they called Sandra to the truck. She conferred with the women for a moment then left. Robert had a difficult time pronouncing my last name so I told him not to worry about it as I walked to the door to hear my fate.
The women stared at the stared at my sheet for a second, then two, three, four. My mind raced as I studed her face. Her eyes and mouth were set in a strait line. Her face looked like when I joke that I won’t do something for my mother then end up saying yes a second later after I have scared her. After two seconds I though the nurse would start to smile as if she were joking in the same way and tell me I am negative. Then after three I started to worry that I would not receive good news. At the fifth or sixth second with the same face she drew me in close and said, “Your result is negative. Stay negative.”
All the moths turned to butterflies! I grabbed my paper to keep as a momento then went to celebrate with Sandra. Half an hour later we were on our way to pick up Courtney and Eliza back at Salama Shield so we could all go enjoy a nice mzungu dinner at the Sky Blue Motel (hotel).
