From Baha’i to broken
Living in Kampala, you begin to appreciate small things you’ve never thought that much of before. Like grass.
I’m a person that takes energy from being in nature: Sitting on rocks overlooking a bay, walking along a coast and breathing in salty air, hiding in the folds of a damp rainforest. I’m Australian afterall, and we like the outdoors — large, open spaces and a feeling of oneness with what’s out there.
So when I found out that there was a Baha’i temple on the top of a luscious green hill on the outskirts of Kampala I said to myself — this is the short weekend escape needed from the bustling, dusty Kampala landscape.
I’ve visited a Baha’i temple once before — the Lotus in Delhi, India. The foundation of the faith is the spiritual unity of all mankind. Little did I know I was to experience that in a whole new way during my visit two months ago.
I arrive by Boda (motorcycle) and take a walk up the hill to the Temple. A man, probably in his 30s greets me and introduces himself as the caretaker of the Temple for the weekend. I enter the temple and spend some time in its silence. It’s amazing to think this place is only 20 minutes from the centre of Kampala. It exudes peacefulness and serenity. I’m so glad I am there.
It has some amazing views over the city so I leisurely walk around the top of the small hill and breathe in the views.
I spend some time sitting on a grassy patch. Happy to be there in what has unfortunately become a rare reflective time in nature since I arrived in Uganda in November.
After probably two hours experiencing the various views of the hill, writing in my journal and reflecting on the amazing journey of the past few months, I decide to leave for home. I stand up and somehow, the next thing I know, my leg is sliding from under me. I fall and slide down this grassy gravelly part of hill. Not too far, probably only a few metres. Thinking that maybe I’ve sprained my ankle I look immediately at my right foot. It looks bad. Really bad. That-moment when-you-realise-that-your-leg-is-in-one-direction-and-your-pinky-toe-is-at-right-angles-to-your-leg bad… The natural order of the human body has been well and truly disturbed.
Now I haven’t been in a huge amount of emergency situations completely by myself in my lifetime so far (thank goodness). The last time would have to be when I drove my father’s car across a retainer wall in Suburban Sydney a few years ago (it sounds dramatic, but it was really the result of a slippery road and some car tyres spinning…). I was pretty calm then, putting the car in park before being hoisted out of the vehicle that had landed at 45 degrees to the road.
And so my gumption in an emergency was tested again in this moment.
First things first, swelling — I somehow swivel my foot up the hill, resting on my motorcycle helmet. Next step, help… I was stranded on the side of a hill afterall. I call out for help and many people circle around. As they approached, I couldn’t help but think of a recent intern at my company who broke her shoulder falling off a Boda and was greeted by people stealing her handbag. “What did I have with me that I wouldn’t want to be stolen?”, I asked myself. Pretty much all of my valuables, I realised: passport -check (as had been to the postoffice before this escapade), laptop — check (had been to work for internet before that), mobile phone — check (though battery about to die — great!), cash — check… I hated myself for thinking this at this moment, but I did. I had everything on me, but nothing I could do about it now, there was no way I was going to make a runaway.
A group of around 6 men approached me.
Nothing got stolen.
I was only greeted with kind help and flurry of “Sorry, sorry..”. This is a Ugandan thing I think, a way they commiserate with your pain…. There was a lot of sorrys being bandied about at this moment in time.
But back to action- how to get off this side of the hill?
I ask one of the men to go and get the caretaker of the temple whom I had just met. For some reason I thought I could trust him. It’s amazing how just two spurts of 3 minute conversation could bring such a belief. In the meantime, I start asking questions of the group — “Who owns that car in the carpark?”. “How far is the Surgery from here?”. And they start asking questions of me — “Can you get on the back of a boda?”. “Absolutely not!”, I responded… my ankle was essentially in two pieces. I had no idea how I was going to get into an ambulance, let alone on the back of a motorcycle.
The caretaker of the temple appears. We discuss trying to get an ambulance. The system in Uganda is an interesting one, essentially hospitals or health centres have their own service, so there is no reliable centralised number to call. Plus, we figure it may take quite a long time. Pastor Moses emerges as the owner of the car and generously offers to drive. We decide this is the best course of action.
I ask the caretaker if he will accompany me. He hesitates for a small moment and then says yes. Somehow, a combination of six Ugandan men lift me up a small side of the hill and into Pastor Moses’ car. It was not a fun experience. The caretaker of the temple sits on the back seat next to me, essentially nursing my ankle — providing some sort of support to keep it together. I’m propped up against the car door window.
We drive along the Kampala roads. Every bump and every pothole is like an earthquake of movement through my leg. And you can imagine… Kampala roads are full of bumps and potholes. We stop for petrol. I’m ringing people I know to make sure that we are going to the right place. The place where ‘muzungus’ go for treatment. I realise my privilege to be even choosing such a thing in this moment. My work colleague confirms this is the place to go.
I also try calling my friend, also an Acumen Fellow based in Uganda. No answer. I say to the temple caretaker, “Oh, I’m just trying to call my friend Javier”. He responds, “Is that Javier, Acumen Global Fellow Javier?”. I respond “Yes it is. And I am also a Fellow!”. A smile and feeling of relief that he had indeed agreed to come with me washes over his face. He then goes on to tell me how he had met us at an event a few days earlier. How he knows the Acumen folks really well. And he knows that one of the Regional Fellows lives 100m from the hospital. He calls her to fill her in. I couldn’t believe the unity of mankind in this moment.
In the middle of all of this, Pastor Moses is reciting verses of Ezekiel 37 about the valley of broken bones. “Son of Man, can these bones live? … “Sovereign Lord, you alone know…”
Potholes, bumps, traffic and one dirt road later we arrive at “The Surgery” Emergency Room. The nurses come out and immediately tell us to stay put while they go to get the doctor.
Pastor Moses leads us in prayer at this moment. It was a lovely moment (although the words about all of the broken bones coming back to life were not a completely welcome reality check for me at this point in time).
The doctor comes out, he is an older white man and apparently started the hospital several years ago. He looks learned and knowing. I feel a bit relieved, again shocked at my inbuilt bias regarding what a diligent doctor would look like in my mind in this moment of emergency.
He takes one look and nods. He says, “Hmmm…our X-Ray machine is broken right now. This is clearly dislocated. I could get you to go somewhere else to get it X-Rayed first and then return, but that would be wasted time. I suggest you come in now and we get you put back together”.
“OK”, I say. At this point I’m thinking to myself, “Oh dear. How am I going to explain this to my mother?”.
Getting me from the car to the stretcher is no easy task. The nurse tries to use an inflatable something or another..to do something or another…I have no clue at this stage. It turns out it’s meant for a child’s leg. So that unpleasant experience was completely not helpful. A few other techniques are tried and in the end I say, “OK this is not working. Let me manoeuvre out backwards myself.”. That somehow works, the poor temple caretaker diligently tries to move with me so to keep my ankle together as I back myself onto the stretcher.
I’m in a lot of pain by now. The adrenaline has clearly worn off and the reality that I’m about to be rushed into a Ugandan hospital kicks in.
I’m on the stretcher and not a happy person at all. Somehow, in the commotion of moving me into the surgery, my foot gets knocked and I screech (not just scream, screech!), so loudly I shocked myself. It feel like I’m in one of those movies at this stage… you know the ones where someone is rushed in and lets out an almighty scream and everyone looks at eachother in horror…I didn’t realise I had such a sound in me.
By this stage I have my hand over my eyes and I was just bracing myself for what’s next. In some weird moment I think to myself, “How will I ever get through childbirth (hopefully one day?) if I can’t deal with this? Keep it together woman. Keep it together.”
I arrive in the surgery room. By this point Javier has also arrived. It was so great to see a familiar face. The temple caretaker guy is staying and Pastor Moses is there too. I say a big thank you to Pastor Moses and he leaves me his details to stay in touch. What a nice man and an absolute life-saver!
The doctor explains he will put me under and relocate the ankle. The whole ankle is looking not too nice at this point (luckily no bones poking through the skin but still not a pleasant sight!). Javier is keen to leave the room and leave the doc to it. He insists he stays right next to me, gleefully saying that I will end up saying a range of funny things while on the drugs and he won’t want to miss it.
I hear this, but am in too much discomfort to really care. Give me the drugs!
After asking my weight I get injected with some sort of drug and I have an extremely trippy experience. Apparently I am only under for around 20 minutes, but to me it feels like around 2 years. At first I’m in some world convincing myself that I’m not in a coma. “I only hurt my ankle, I couldn’t possibly be in a coma…”, I reason with myself. The next phase I’m in a sci-fi movie…Interstellar or something like that. I’m in a parallel universe and I don’t know how to get back to Earth. Then, all of a sudden, my Singularity University knowledge kicks in — “Maybe the Singularity is happening and my brain is being uploaded to the cloud?”. Notions of reality seem warped and relative. I have no idea whether I’ll find my way back to Earth…
Eventually I work out that I have control over my face and can talk. My first words? - “Are you guys realllll? I’ve been in another world. Another worlddddd!”.
You know those moments when you see people on drugs saying things they probably shouldn’t? This was my moment. All sorts of verbal diarrhoea comes out at this point. You know that moment when you wake up and realise that all of the things that you thought you said were just in your dream? I had no such luxury. I had said everything I hoped was just in my imagination. And there were two people listening! Great!
Apparently people pay good money to be tripped out like this, I was reminded. I can now say from experience that it is certainly not for me!
I ‘come to’ more fully and realise my leg is in a cast. A huge cast from my foot to my knee. My first ever. The nurse comes back in to tell me I can leave whenever I want to. I see some crutches in the corner. I can barely sit up let alone manoeuvre myself out of here. By this point another member of the Acumen family had arrived and had offered to drive me home. This was good news. I was so thankful to have this amazing bunch of people around me, joking with me, teasing me about the ridiculous things I said and just letting me know everything will be ok.
After a bit more time gathering my thoughts and working up the gumption to get up, I finally do. Luckily I had some members in the room who had used crutches before and adjusted them for me to use. In a combination of clumsiness and light-headedness, Inearly fall over as I try to leave. Someone then brings a wheelchair to get me out of there.
Less than 5 hours after the fall, I’m back at my house. It was quite an efficient process really.
I was honestly so amazed at how much the Acumen community was there at my aid the whole way through. It was really so wonderful.
Two days later I go for the X-Ray. It’s fractured in multiple places and will require surgery. I have the luxury of medical cover that is then arranged to send me home for the surgery and recovery with my family. The privilege I am able to exercise in this moment does not go unnoticed. A few days later, after many calls with insurance company and multiple visits to doctors and with a medical escort in toe, I take the journey from Kampala to Sydney. A few days after that I have had surgery in an Australian hospital and 2 pins, a plate and 6 screws later my ankle is back together.
I did a good job.
A really good job.
And all from just walking. Ironically my leg had the same level of energy go through it as if I had had a motorcycle accident. Given I’ve been riding boda boda since my arrival in Kampala, this could have easily been my fate by that means, but instead it was to be done in probably the most peaceful and serene place in Kampala!
Today, I am still in recovery mode at home. It’s eight weeks since it happened. All is well, but the process is slow. Well slow for me (on the other hand it’s quite amazing that the body is able to repair itself like this at all!).
I have not had so much time staying at home for a very long time (since pre-school according to my mother!). I am being very well looked after by family and friends and still working from afar. And learning LOADS about patience in the process.
A big thank you to everyone who has cheered me up, held my hand, watched over my foot or just been there when I needed it. I’m very blessed to have an amazing Mum, Dad, Nan, Uncle and Sister as well as the beautiful Acumen family and wonderful friends that have been there every step of the way. And I’m also really so very lucky to have the opportunity in this very rare circumstance of putting our training as Acumen fellows of “hanging out on the balcony” (more on this in a later post!) into practice.
I look forward to sharing more with you soon!
