Let’s talk water. Everyone needs it, right? In the United States, we take for granted our accessibility to clean, fresh water sources. In all honesty, before the Flint Water Crisis beginning in 2014, I had yet to consider that people in developed country such as the United States have limited access to clean drinking water. We, as an American society, are appalled by situations such as the Flint Water Crisis. A bit of background information: pipeline construction that utilized the Flint River as a water source drastically altered the characteristics and quality of the water accessible to citizens of Flint. This resulted in four years of turmoil and $450 million dollars on the part of the state and federal governments to supply bottled water and clean filtration systems to those impacted. The most upsetting part? It was avoidable.

The United States contains social and economic infrastructure well-suited to provide residents with clean drinking water — a necessity, not a desire. Dishearteningly, in Ddegeya Village, Uganda, clean water is available to only the fortunate.

At Engeye, we are grateful to have access to clean, filtered drinking water. Rain-water collection tanks are located outside of our home, streamlining the ways in which we wash our hands, bathe, and clean dishes, buckets, and clothes. In Ddegeya more generally, these amenities are not common. Everyday, at all hours, individuals walk and bike to the borehole near Engeye with jerrycans upon jerrycans. A borehole, a shaft bored into the ground that allows for the extraction of clean water, is vital to the health of a village. So — what is the issue? The boreholes in Ddegeya break, and they break often. Although the mechanism is straightforward (even I could understand it), one broken part can result in disaster. Last week, the borehole closest to Engeye broke. The problem? One broken ring at the bottom of the pump.

For nearly two days, individuals were unable to access clean water through this borehole. Sure, there is a second borehole on the other side of the village but when one breaks, the other borehole is overused. Overuse is a proclivity for malfunction. When the borehole breaks, it needs to be fixed, and fixed quickly. Eddie is the go-to man in Ddegeya when there is an issue with the borehole. Curious to learn, we tagged along with him to analyze the problem. An hour of time, a “new” ring (a washer welded to a screw), and a bit of ingenuity later (the washer/screw invention), the borehole was up and running — thankfully.

What if Eddie wasn’t around? Well, when people need water they find it where they can. Below is a picture of one of the small ponds that I saw people taking water from while the borehole was not working. It is by no means clean, but it is necessary.

Clean water is not merely important, it sustains life. Functioning boreholes and wells are vital to communities such as Ddegeya. This is why organizations, such as The Samburu Project, are so important. My fellow Fellow, Matt Cole, has been working with this group in Wamba, Kenya, to address community issues similar to those that I have just discussed. Please take a look at the work that he has been doing and dedicate some time to grasp the privilege of having clean water. We all need it, why do we not all have it?

https://mattcolesamburuproject.wordpress.com/2019/07/20/my-first/?fbclid=IwAR3v5ngatpls5oI68bVNFia6XOvXnHTSgTxWQP3W4WKJu1gEIaLmZVqzqk4

And on 16 July, we went. After 23 hours of travel, limited sleep, some self-doubt, and tearful goodbyes, Lauren and I arrived safely at Engeye Health Clinic in Ddegeya Village, Uganda. The four-hour ride from the airport was impactful, to put it mildly. Townships and cities quickly transform into small villages and matoke fields. Boda-bodas – motorcycle taxis – infest the road, earnestly fighting for their share of space with countless cars, taxis, buses, and trucks. Street-side markets, small and large, are common, emerging unexpectedly near homes, shops, and green terrain. After stopping for lunch on the Equator with our driver, Nassar, who kindly introduced us to Ugandan music, we arrived at Engeye around 6:00pm. The clinic closes at 5:00pm on weekdays and for many, the day comes to an end with the conclusion of the workday. I questioned this initially but around 7:30pm, I understood. When the sun sets, it gets dark, I’m talking dark, dark – no light pollution here! Since many of the clinic staff had settled in for the evening before our arrival, Lauren and I were greeted by the welcoming committee – the kids!

Joseph, Nicole, and Maria, three of the children that live on the clinic grounds, “helped” Lauren and I unpack by bringing all of the shoes from outside, in. Before entering a home, shoes are taken off and are stored outside to keep floors free of loose dirt from the paths and roads. Well, we had 20 pairs of unclaimed, dirty shoes in our room and the three of them felt like world-renowned comedians. Eventually, the kids retreated for the night, leaving us to determine whose shoes went on which doorstep, and to sweep up the mess they so graciously left behind.

Elizabeth and Jenee, two MPH students from UAlbany, have been at Engeye since May. Familiar with both the clinic compound and village, they guided us on a tour just before sunset. Sleep-deprived and excited, I followed them, anxiously. In the newness of it all, Engeye felt overwhelmingly large. Since then, it has become smaller and smaller and I am proud to say that I could successfully navigate my way around the clinic by day two (I’m still working on making my way throughout the village).

On our third night in Ddegeya, Lauren and I ventured into the closest town, Kinoni, with Eddie. A convenience store owner and former Engeye groundskeeper, Eddie has taken every generation of Minerva Fellows in Ddegeya under his wing. He has one daughter, who will be two on New Years Eve, but claims that every year he gains a set of twins from Union College – Lauren and me being his first set of girls. Eddie took us to the “up sitting place” (on a hill) and the “down sitting place” (also dubbed the official Matt and Nick place, courtesy of last year’s fellows) where we sat, ate, and chatted for three hours. He gave us a lecture in what he called “Uganda-101”.

The following morning, we left for Masaka, the closest city to Ddegeya, at 10:45 Uganda time (so 11:15). John, the director of clinic operations was kind enough to bring Lauren and I to visitation day at the primary school in the city where two of the students in the scholars program attend school. Engeye established an amazing program that sponsors a group of just over 20 students to attend private boarding school. For most of these students, the scholars program provides them with access to a high-quality education that they would not receive, otherwise. I am looking forward to the time that we will have with the scholars when they are home on holiday late next month.

I must say, after writing all of that it feels like we have done quite a bit since arriving on Wednesday. Adjusting to the time change, diet, and exploring the new environment has been far more tiring than I initially expected.

Now to answer the million-dollar question: how am I doing? My friends and family have been incredibly thoughtful in reaching out to see how I have been acclimating. My answer? I am trying my best. I was naïve to think that this transition would be smooth. I have entered a world, and family, foreign to anything I have experienced before: my understanding of the spoken language, Luganda, is limited (for now), and it is difficult to know who outside the clinic speaks English. Despite this, each day I have felt more comfortable than the one prior, which is a positive first step in eventually calling Ddegeya home.

What’s it like there? My first impressions are as follows: the clinic grounds and the village greenery are beautiful; the village residents appear far friendlier than people in the United States; and Lauren and I are the only mzungus (white people) around. The fields at the clinic sprout peppers, guava trees, avocado trees, coffee beans, and corn.

There are pigs (contained in a pen), chickens, and Tipei, Engeye resident cat, roaming around. Any time someone walks by, they wave and deliver a genuine greeting. Children (and some adults) flock to the main road leading through the village when we walk by: “Hi mzungu!”, “Bye mzungo!”, “See you mzungo!” – and follow us for a few yards giggling, smiling, and waving when we say hello. I am sure, however, that many individuals will not be as earnest as those we have met thus far. We have been advised that some people will try to take advantage of the new girls in the village, charging us the mzungo rate for food, taxis, and other services. It is my hope that eventually they will realize that we are here to stay, and not merely tourists passing by. So yes, to those wondering, I am OK. I am trying. For now, that is all I can ask of myself.

Thanks for joining me!

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” – Margaret Mead

In less than eight weeks I will be living in Ddegeya, Uganda.

Woah.

I am so incredibly humbled to have the opportunity to work with Engeye and cannot give enough thanks to the Minerva Fellowship program, the Engeye Staff and Board of Directors, and our generous donors for making it possible. Overwhelmed with excitement, nerves, and loads of information, I would like to think that I am as “prepared” as I can be from 7,000 miles away.

Gen11, we (Gen12) would be lost without you. Thank you for your constant support, encouragement, and words of wisdom.

Mom and Dad, thank you for allowing me to embark on this crazy journey. I can’t wait to see where it takes me!