A Trip to Kamanga

Last weekend our family had the opportunity to cross the waters of Lake Victoria and visit a small village called Kamanga. Kyle had the opportunity to visit there last month with Nina Hjortlund, the founding director and CEO of Australia for Cedar Tanzania – a non-profit based out of Australia working within the community to provide basic healthcare to those in need (australiaforcedartanzania.org). Kyle was very impressed with the work they were doing, and we both wanted to learn more. Specifically, I was interested in learning about what physical therapy programs they offered to children with disabilities in the area, as I am beginning work with Huruma Special Unit in Mwanza (a school for children with disabilities started by a fellow lay missioner in 2006). Nina immediately offered up one the guest houses they had at the hospital for our family to stay in.

Thursday morning we drove down to one of the local ferry terminals in Mwanza. We navigated payment for ourselves and the vehicle and boarded the ferry for a 45-minute ferry ride across the water. This was the second time I had been out on the lake (the first time was a quick 10-minute boat ride to Sananne Island National Park – located just off the shores of downtown Mwanza). The view looking back on the town is beautiful. Mwanza is commonly referred to as “Rock City” – for good reason. Giant boulders and stacks of rocks are strewn everywhere across the shoreline and along the hills. The rocks are now dotted with houses and other structures – but using my imagination I can picture what this area must have looked like 100 years ago. It’s remarkably beautiful.

The waters of Lake Victoria are home to crocodiles as well as hippos – and despite the kids scanning the water for signs of either – none were to be seen. But we all enjoyed the cool breeze coming off the lake and for 25 cents we all enjoyed a “ndazi na chai” (slightly sweet bread with tea) that a woman on the ferry was selling. Upon arrival on the other side we disembarked and drove the very short distance (several hundred meters) to the new hospital Cedars Tanzania recently built. We were welcomed by several staff that were expecting us and shown into our simple yet comfortable “house” on the hospital property. After getting settled, I introduced myself to two caregivers onsite that were in charge of physical therapy for patients in the area. They invited both Josephine and me to accompany them on several home visits that afternoon. Usually, these women use motorcycles to reach their clients outside of the village; today, because I had the truck, we all drove together.

Having lived in Tanzania almost 6 months now, I’m getting used to what is considered a “road.” Prior to living in Tanzania I would have considered many of the roads I have now driven down to be nothing more than a jeep or cattle trail. Visiting patients that day was no different. We bumped our way across ravines and through fields, eventually stopping alongside a man herding a large group of cattle and goats. We hiked along a dirt trail and wound our way toward a mud hut surrounded by bushes and trees. Waiting inside was an older couple – both suffering from Hansen’s disease, better known as leprosy. The husband was blind in both eyes and suffered from wounds on his feet. His wife had only nubs left for fingers and also suffered from wounds on both feet. Neither one of them could walk and were completely reliant on their grandchildren to bring them food and any other necessities. The two ladies chatted with them both briefly in Kiswahili before cleaning their wounds, applying raw honey to the open sores, and re-wrapping with sterile gauze. They explained to me that this was done twice weekly during home visits. I asked them if they were on medications for their leprosy. The wife answered “No … the medications caused severe GI upset and we could not continue taking them.” Without medications, the disease would continue spreading. But without proper medical care, the side effects of the leprosy drug cocktail was too strong. They felt they had no choice but to stop treatment. I was both frustrated and disheartened by the situation. The woman looked at me with earnest, smiling eyes and said, “I would like you to take me to America with you.” We laughed about how I would love to take her home with me. Then, in a more serious voice she stated, “Now you will get to know the people of Tanzania and how we live.”

   

Our second visit took us through another ravine. We parked outside an open field along a school. It was lunchtime and all the children were out playing soccer or gathered in small groups chatting with one another. As usual, we were quite the spectacle – 2 muzungus and 2 locals weaving their way through the children to a small concrete house on the other side of the field. There we found Paulo, a young 12-year-old boy with Cerebral palsy and severe scoliosis. He was sitting quietly on the steps of his house, waiting for his mother to return from market. His withered legs rested beneath him as he sat patiently in the shade, unable to move himself off the porch. Two times a week the physical therapists from the hospital come out to provide Paulo with PT sessions. He is unable to attend school due to his disability, but both therapists assure me he is incredibly bright and a talented young man. Yet again, I am frustrated by the situation. Just one hundred yards away his able-bodied peers run and play and learn at one of the government schools; Paulo, due to his disability, is unable to attend and instead sits on the porch and listens to them. Several years ago, Tanzania’s government declared that public schools become “inclusive” for all children – but the reality is, no extra funding or training has been offered to local schools to make this happen. If a child with a disability cannot navigate the stairs or restrooms or the classrooms by him or herself – the situation is deemed helpless and the child returns home. But public schools are already overwhelmed and underfunded – and its not as if money just grows on trees. The idea of inclusive schools is nice, but in Tanzania, it’s just not yet realistic for many students.

 

The next morning I observed PT sessions being done on-site at the hospital. Several children with cerebral palsy, as well as an older woman with hip and shoulder pain, came in for their twice weekly visits. Kyle taught a small business/investing class that afternoon (using the PT room as a classroom) to a group of locals. Here in Tanzania, it is common practice for groups to create their own “savings and loans” programs; everybody chips in a certain amount every week and members are allowed to take out loans for helping with business ideas (a vegetable stand, fishing equipment, etc.). The loans must be paid back after a certain amount of time, but at a much lower interest rate than what the bank charges. Kyle was able to show them to power of compounding interest, as well as offer some technology to help them keep track of their money more efficiently.

 

Both nights in Kamanga we ate out at local eateries. Kamanga truly is a village with very little available. It has a small market downtown to buy oil, rice, beans, fruits, vegetables. One store was selling used clothing. Another had amenities such as toilet paper (mostly used by us muzungus and not locals), laundry soap, and sodas. For dinner the 5 of huddled inside a wooden hut with plastic lawn chairs and plastic plates. We ate a simple plate of rice and beans (Charlotte ordered ugali – a stiff corn porridge eaten in Tanzania - instead of rice). We celebrated with 2 beers (for mom and dad) and 3 sodas. All the drinks arrived warm (no refrigeration) and we cheered to our success at navigating a Tanzanian village restaurant on our own.*

The next day it was time to pack up and head home. We enjoyed the quiet and solitude of Kamanga; quite the contrast to the hustle and bustle of Mwanza. The birds along the water's edge were spectacular and we all enjoyed falling asleep to the buzz of crickets. We look forward to returning soon!

*Most of the family promptly suffered from diarrhea and stomach pains for the next few days. But we trust that “this too shall pass …” (hopefully without the need for antibiotics! Ha ha!).