The Manifesto

Friday

Up early to Bugandando village today to see programme interventions in action. The village is a couple of hours (bumpy) drive away from the main road. Red dust shrouds small hamlets of clay and straw huts centred around a clearing. The village government meeting was a colourful affair of chants and ‘rally’ style songs championing old peoples’ rights. So far so good. We sat under baobaou trees dsicussing cultural practices and beliefs. A very admamant woman wanted to stress that the village problems would be solved if they had access to binoculars and police sniffer dogs - only then would they be able to identify the ‘true’ witches instead of the false accusations. All nodded in agreement. The NGO suggested that access to clean water might also be relevant.

The oldest man in the village was carried out to be presented to us - rumoured to be 118 - when tested he remembered a famous famine from the 1920s! I was really impressed by the translators - from sukumu to swahili to english and on some very sensitive topics like witchcraft killings, domestic abuse and governance strucutre. He helped us blow up some balloons as a small gift to his children.

Events took a sinister turn when we realised that there had been a killing of an old woman just the night before - apparently to frighten and intimidate the advocacy work. Details of any police investigation and support for dependents of the woman were sketchy but I hope to hear more.

We then met with the survivor of an attack attacked because a child that she gave some nuts too became ill afterwards - she stripped down inside her house to reveal horrific machete wounds all over her back and shoulders - considered an old woman at age 50 - I mentioned that my mum also aged 50 might have something to say about this. Surviving such a thing is extremeley rare - her net curtains at the window still had slash marks. She spoke in such a quiet but steely and determined voice. Another interviwee had been isolated by community decree but continued to visit the same traditional healer that had made the devination for treatment of her evident athritis.

Everyone was very quiet on the long drive home - a lot of inconsistent stories but a humbling welcome. Only when back at the hotel did the driver mention that he was feeling a bit hungry as it was now sundown - we had completely forgotten that being Muslim he would have abstained all day for Ramadan. I wish I could have some of his patience as I contemplate the speed of Internet connection or the trouble in obtaining a petrol receipt etc etc.

To be continued…

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 14th, 2008 at 9:10 am and is filed under Jemma's Africa Trip. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.