So the last few days have been very up and down. Just letting everyone know, this entry will be bluntly honest about what I have been going through.
So on Wednesday morning I woke to intense stomach pains and as the day progressed I started getting pretty bad diarrhea. I has a hard time eating so my program director took me to the hospital. I was nervous going to a hospital in a foreign country alone, but they were very helpful and I felt safe. They took a stool sample and as it turns out-just my luck-I have ecoli. Wednesday night was aweful. I was running to the bathroom every 15 minutes and in this culture you don't really talk about what is going on. My host family was nice and seemed concerned but it was really hard not being in my own bed. Because I could not ask for a bucket, at one point I had to quickly empty a plastic bag that had my shampoo in it and throw up. There are no garbages in the home so I just had to rince it out and re-use it each time I would get sick. Luckily the puking did not last long. I have been on two medications and today am feeling so much better. I called home for the first time since I left and it was nice to hear a familiar voice. Monday I have to go back and get retested to make sure it is not a strain resistant to the medications. I was a little upset, I did not get to go to the IDP camp and had to miss some classes.
So many of you probably do not know to the full extent the history of Gulu-I would recomend researching it! Even I did not know the extent to which conflict has devistated this area. My family has not yet talked about it, so this morning I brought it up with my host sister, who is maybe 10 or 11. As much as you hear stories, it never hits home until you talk to someone close to you about what they have gone through. My sister told me about what happened one night at the house I am staying in. As the violence got worse, my sister could see dead bodies from her house scattered along the road, and huts being burnt, and she said there was always blood everywhere-sometimes people find bones in the dirt from bodies forgotten about. A few years ago, the rebels came to my host house and began to sworm the house. It is made of cememt and the windows have gates and the doors are metal so it was better secures than most-especially the huts. The rebels began shooting and her and her sister hid under her bed while her father hid in the living room. She could hear the gunshot hitting the side of the house and the yelling of rebels to let them in. She said she saw one rebel come to the window of her room and take out a knife to break the glass. She showed me the windows that were shot out or broken. She said her family is lucky-if they would have gotten in, they would have captured the children and turned them into soldiers or wives just as many other children. She told me of cousins who had been abducted and then raped by the soldiers, who then had to give birth in the bush.
I am expecting that this is how the rest of my time will be-very up and down.
Peace & Love,