Bududa

Yesterday I travelled to the small town of Bududa in the east of the country. About two weeks ago there was a mudslide in this region which caused the deaths of at least a hundred people and has left many more missing or displaced.

Due to the fact that I have no access to either TV or internet where I'm staying I had to rely on you good folks outside of the country for any news about the disaster. In fact, it was a correspondent in Canada who first reported the incident to me (thanks Frannie). Since then I have tried to find out as much as possible from any newspapers I could get hold of and word of mouth from Moses and anyone else claiming to know something.

During the middle of last week Moses came to me and told me about a charity based nearby called "Soul" who were planning to head out to the affected area and lend a hand. He asked me if I wanted to go along and see if I could help them in their efforts. I responded in the affirmative. We were to set off early in the morning Saturday and spend the day there providing some pre-prepared food and whatever other assistance we could provide.

We set off from Moses' compound at about 5.30 in the morning aiming to arrive at the Soul project building at 6. As we arrived we were introduced to Brooke Stern, a rather nice lady from New York, who is the co-founder of the charity. She told us what we could expect to be doing once we were there (handing out food, putting up tents and digging in the main) and told us a bit about what they do when they're not rushing off to sites of natural disasters (funding students in the area). We also met some of the lads which were to be accompanying us there; mainly boys from the local football team.

We set off a mere hour and a half behind schedule (a great example of African time) in two mutatus (minibuses) full of people and food. The roads there were, for the most part, clear and flat so we made good time towards the nearest city of Mbale. Once there we got some more supplies of bread, sugar, tea as well as some spades and gloves for digging.

The roads from Mbale through to Bududa were not quite so forgiving as we got tossed around in the ancient little Chinese-hand-me-down vans. We pulled into the temporary camp (set up mainly by Unicef) at around midday and all piled out of the minibuses ready to do some good. The camp looked strangely like a large-scale festival and, at first glance, it seemed pointless us being there because there was such a large aid agency presence already. I soon realized that there was still plenty left to do and a chat with one of the Ugandan soldiers there shed some light on the continuing problems. The people in the camps are not only those from the affected area, but also people who have been evacuated from surrounding areas. This means that there are close to 3000 people in a camp originally designed for about half that number. This has led to a concern over how much food can be provided each day. We also learnt that a lot of the aid coming into the area is being sold off for a profit by the officials in charge of the relief effort.

We left the soldier to have a wander around the camp and see what use we could be. We found some lovely Red Cross people who showed us what kind of things they were working on. We came across some people building a structure of some sort and we were told that it was to be a kitchen. We dutifully rolled up our sleeves and got down to some work as Moses put on his leader's cap and started barking orders. He had to do this primarily in English because the language in this region is different to the one spoken in Jinja. We managed to get something resembling a building, with four walls and a roof, up in less than two hours-pretty good going I thought. Perhaps it was the hard working mzungus; or maybe the non-African style of leadership that Moses brought.

With the kitchen nearing completion we were summoned by the Soul folk to help with distributing the "Posho and beans" we had brought. Posho is one of the staple foods in Uganda - it's basically maize-flour and it's pretty good at filling a hungry belly. We had to squeeze through a gate "guarded" by a young looking red-faced Red Cross girl who seemed understandably stressed at the number of people trying to push their way through. Once inside we found that the boys from Soul had done all the hard work, which left us to just hand out some water and talk to any children we could find who spoke English and didn't have a mouthful of Posho. The children and parents alike seemed to enjoy the food, not least because it was the first time for a long time any of them had anything but plain Posho by itself.

With lunch finished we decided that we would head up to the site of the disaster and enlisted one of Moses' cousins that we ran into, by complete chance, in the camp (it seems to happen a lot here - families are big) to show us the way. His house was just on the very edge of the main mudslide and he and his family had managed to escape unscathed despite getting a rather large boulder through their roof. We got two Bodas (the motorbike dudes) up to the base of the mountain and started the climb. It was, we were told, a mere 3 or 4 kilometres walk and we intended to be back at the camp no later than 4 o'clock. It turned out to be about 8 kilometres to get there, the same to get back to the road and then an extra walk once there because there was a severe lack of motorized vehicles. All in all we walked more than 20 kilometres and, in a rush to get back for the bus, we ran a large portion of the return leg. But, we did it.

The site of the disaster came into view around the corner of the fifth or sixth "hillock" we had traversed- it was harrowing and incredible in equal measure. The sheer scale of it is difficult to describe - walking past boulders twice the size of me and realizing that, looking down several feet, I could see the roof of what was once a house. The thought also slowly crept upon me that where we were standing there was once a village and that below us there were almost certainly bodies which had been buried; this made it difficult to remain there for long. I saw debris in the form of school books and children's clothes and wondered if the owners of them had been found alive. I'm not sure if I'll ever make sense of what I saw there.

As I said before we were short on time and the people we had come with were calling us continually and asking where we had got to - they wanted to leave. So, while all I really wanted to do was sit down and attempt to comprehend what I had just seen, we set off at a jog up and down the mountains and across a river or two to ensure we didn't get left behind. Our Boda-men were supposed to have waited for us, but they had obviously got bored and gone home; the walk along the road (which I hadn't told my brain or my legs to expect) was not a lot of fun at all.

We got back to the main road just as our convoy was driving towards us, all set to leave us there. They graciously stopped to pick us up. On the journey home I had a chance to think about the long day filled with a hundred contrasting images. I realized that I could take some solace in the fact that there were a lot of survivors, and they are living in just about acceptable conditions for the time being. I also decided that I will never again go to the actual site of a disaster, natural or otherwise, because it serves no purpose. In the camps which are set up there is something which can be done; at the site of the disaster (especially a week after it happens) there is a feeling of pointlessness, of feeling powerless to do anything or change anything.

Thank you all for reading what has certainly not been my most cheery of blogs. If you have any more time I have put a link to the charity I went with at the side. As I said they mainly deal with education initiatives in the area, but donations would go to planning another trip like the one I went on. There is also a link to my pictures at the top; some from the camp and some from the site.

I hope everyone is well and all the mothers out there had a lovely day on Sunday =)