International Women’s Day is a national holiday in Uganda. (Almost) everyone has the day off—wonderful for office workers but ironic for village women who really can’t ever take a day off. The president held a major event in the city center and discussed the epidemic of domestic violence in the country—a horrific indicator of the status of women in Uganda.
The PHR team spent much of the day at Jinja Regional Referral Hospital, which serves 5 million people. For me, it was the most moving International Women’s Day I’ve ever had. One of the doctors showed us around the grounds, which are spacious, with buildings constructed a half century ago and slowly crumbling around us. We entered the labor ward which had two long rows of beds up against the walls, with mothers and babies and grandmothers and aunts and friends all gathered, with no privacy at all but a wonderful sense of camaraderie—and a real sense of the power of women. One woman had just given birth to twin girls, who would join her older daughter as soon as they were strong enough. I was so happy for her, and also just a little sad—as in so many countries across the world, boys can be seen as more of a blessing in Uganda than girls, and I only hoped her husband was as happy as she was, and would embrace the women in his life with wonder and love. Another tiny little girl, dressed in a blue onesie with a giraffe on it, was ill with fever, but her mother was confident with the nurses’ care, she would get better. The room was amazing—bright, full of windows, with blankets and pillows of all different colors and patterns (because you have to bring your own linens to the hospital), and quiet laughter and talking and tiny cries. I could have stayed all day with these women and their beautiful babies, celebrating the incredible power of women to bring life into the world and protect their children at all cost.
The team then toured a different ward, for those with severe injuries. Outside, we could hear a kind of moaning that sounded like a wounded animal—and when we entered, we saw a little boy, with a horribly injured leg, being rebandaged. But there was not enough gauze. The sense of hopelessness here was palpable and sick and sad, and I could not stay there. A tiny boy lay with both legs in traction—the traction being rope tied to an old and wilting IV pole, very makeshift, very uncomfortable. No books, no TV, nothing to do but lay down in a large room surrounded by people in misery and pain. A young woman from Congo had been in the same bed for more than a year: while in Uganda, she had been in a horrific car accident, breaking bones and sustaining burns all over her body. Her family had abandoned her, and the hospital was her home. Another young girl sat silent, with a metal rod extending from her knee to a severely swollen foot. I showed her the scars on my knee from an ACL reconstruction when I was 14, trying to find some common ground with her, but our health outcomes will not be remotely parallel. Eight months after my surgery, I was back on the playing field. I’m not sure where she’ll be in 8 months. I only hope she will be able to walk at all, but I cannot imagine she will run, bike, ski, swim and everything I’ve been able to do. The doctors were working hard to help these patients, but it was hard to imagine anyone coming out of that clinic healthy and whole, or even alive—while the health workers were dedicated and skilled, they did not have the equipment they needed to really heal these horrible injuries.
As the tour ended, the first quintuplets ever successfully delivered in Uganda arrived to say hello to their doctor and nurses. One of the babies has died, but the remaining 4 are adorable and strong, all of them wrapped in blankets that read “I love my mummy”—very fitting in a country where women provide most of the child care and on whom the lives of children truly depend. Their mother, Dorothy, came with two helpers, and looked radiant and tired and proud as people from across the hospital grounds gathered around her and blessed the children and shared the love and hope four little ones create in even the saddest of situations. All I could think of was how powerful are women—and how powerful is hope—and how much we owe to the developing world to ensure women live and their children thrive.
You can help make women’s health rights a reality by signing on to HAA’s Women’s platform, Health Rights=Healthy Women. Act now to send a strong message for women’s health and human rights and support all the women we met at Jinja hospital, whose strength is amazing, but whose future is uncertain.
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