On Eleanor

I’ve always had a bit of a love-hate relationship with my name. Eleanor. It’s a mature name for a young girl, and in my case it was never abbreviated to Ellie, Nellie, Nora, or any other youthful sounding permutation. During a brief period in elementary school, I asked my family and friends to call me Grace (irony noted here, thank you), and when that failed I turned to my middle name, Clare. Never, however, has my name proven as problematic as it has since I moved to Uganda.

First off, Ugandans have simply never heard of the name Eleanor. Though most Ugandans actually have “western” names—there are an abundance of Richards, Williams, Johns, Pauls, Saras, Rebeccas, Cathys, etc.—Eleanor is nowhere to be found. Repeating my name to Ugandans multiple times is of little help and references to Acquitaines or Roosevelts draw blank stares. Elena is more commonly recognized, so some of my Ugandan colleagues and friends call me Elena. That’s the best case scenario.

Now, this already sub-par situation is complicated by the fact that Ugandans refer to people by their surname, followed by their first name. So, for example, the name would be Elston Elizabeth or Sullivan Daniel. Spears Brittany, Friedman Thomas, Brooks David. Get it? Excellent. Apply this situation to my name—Eleanor Joseph—and it’s obvious: this person is named Joseph! Then they look at me. But in Uganda, they tell me, Joseph is a man’s name. Perhaps Josephine?

To recap, since my arrival in Uganda, I’ve been called Elena (and many similar sounding mumbles), Joseph, and Josephine by those who even venture an attempt at referring to me by name. However, my favorite came the other day. After a thirty minute conversation with a very friendly technician in one of the Ministry’s labs, I was making my way to the door. I’d given this man my card, so he’d seen my name written, in addition to hearing me pronounce it when I initially introduced myself. As I drew the door closed behind me, I heard him say “Bye, bye, Clinton.” I guess that works too...

On Looking Askance

After following my blog and reading a number of my emails, a good friend from DC recently asked if ministry officials “look askance at [my] youth or race.” A reasonable and intelligent question, I was shocked by my own response: an overwhelming “no.”

Race. Quite frankly, whites (which are referred to mercilessly by black Ugandans as “muzungus”) are associated with education and wealth. It’s pretty mind-boggling, but if a Caucasian recommends or endorses a particular concept, it is far more likely that the idea will be considered/implemented than if it’s condoned by a native Ugandan. The wealth component manifests itself even more blatantly. Ugandans generally assume that all muzungus are affluent, and attempt to befriend whites (at least partially) as a result. I’ve had individuals approach me (initially I thought it flirtatious, which is only sometimes accurate) just to make conversation—this frequently entails recounting the entirety of life stories—and befriend me. It's a bit of a bizarre dynamic, but people certainly do not view my race with suspicion.

Age. I've had men inquire as to why I'm not wed, but that's admittedly the only age-related harassment to which I’ve been subjected. (And, let us be honest here, I’ve gotten the exact same question from my beloved grandmother, who takes a small degree of enjoyment from reminding me that by the time she was my age, she’d given birth to all three of her children. Thank GOD times have changed!) One man from the MOH actually had the audacity to ask if my father was deceased—bear in mind that life expectancy is shorter here than in the States—because he couldn't imagine a father permitting his young daughter to travel unaccompanied such a long way from home. I got a kick out of that one, as not only is my father very much alive and kicking, but so is my grandfather! Anyway, thus far, neither race nor relative youth has been a hindrance and my muzungu-ness has, if anything, been of service.

On Addis Ababa

I just realized that I’ve failed to mention my trip to Ethiopia! (For full disclosure, I had a six-hour layover in Addis upon my return from Bangkok that I am generously calling my “trip”.) My flight from Thailand landed at 5am, so I arrived on a dark, chilly, Ethiopian morning. I left my luggage with the airline (I’d checked it directly through to Entebbe), spontaneously purchased a tourist visa, and headed into Addis with my friend Zelalem, who works for CHAI in Ethiopia. After dropping Zelalem’s luggage at his apartment, he and I went to sit at Kaldi's Coffee Shop (which bears a logo that suspiciously resembles that of Starbucks), where we discussed the service and maintenance database. Zelalem, who built the Access file, showed me the back end of the database so that I can alter the interface if necessary.

After two cappuccinos and a healthy dose of quant work between the hours of 6 and 8am, Zelalem and I walked to one of the largest churches in Addis. Zelalem, who is a photographer in his spare time, took some fantastic photographs, none of which I can currently upload because my internet in Kampala is too slow. (I’ll try to leave my computer in the office overnight sometime soon to get them up on either blog or Flickr page.) The two of us then walked along one of the nicest roads in Addis (or so I was told) and saw exhibition space that was built solely to celebrate the millennium; apparently both Beyonce and Black Eyed Peas performed there in front of mass audiences. Shortly afterward, Zelalem hailed a cab and the two of us returned to the airport, where he dropped me off.

My flight to Entebbe, which was scheduled for 11:30am, was spontaneously moved an hour earlier by Ethiopian Airlines. (I later discovered that they’d thoughtfully sent me an email, time stamp 10:10am—a whopping 20 minutes before the newly slated departure.) Thus, I sprinted through the airport and just barely caught my flight back to Uganda. About two hours later I landed in Entebbe, and for the second time, Paul was waiting for me at arrivals.

On Normalcy

I’ve recently received feedback from friends and family that they have a difficult time envisioning my day-to-day life from reading my blog. This is partly intentional; I don’t want to bore my loyal readers with the mundane aspects of daily life. Fun little anecdotes are much more entertaining. Additionally, elements of my work are sensitive, though not confidential. I’d feel somewhat uncomfortable blogging about the inner workings of the Ugandan Ministry of Health, for example, or the work we’re doing with other NGOs on the ground here. Thus, this entry is intended to give you a sense of my routine, without going into excessive, mind-numbing detail.

In some small ways, my life is unchanged from how it was for the past two years in Washington. For example, I still wake up early and make myself crappy instant coffee, which I sip while checking my email and doing a little bit of work. Minor changes to this part of my routine include:

· I now drink low fat milk with my coffee (I’ve not been able to find skim here).

· Late-night emails from my boss generally arrive between 10-11pm rather than 1-2:30am, frequently Peter’s hours of operation.

· Oh, and I watch the sun rise over palm trees rather than over the apartment building next door.

After about half an hour, I walk to Kabira Country Club—a lovely horrendously overpriced hotel with a pool, spa, etc., that’s located about 15 minutes from my apartment—where I spend about 45 minutes in their gym. After walking home, showering, and changing, I head to work (about 10 minutes away), arriving slightly before 9am.

My work days are incredibly varied. I’d say that, on average, I spend about seven hours in the CHAI office, and around three hours traveling around Kampala, meeting with people at the Ministry of Health, Central Public Health Laboratory, or various of our implementing partners. I generally leave the office anywhere between 7:30 and 10:00pm. In terms of the actual work, a substantial portion of my time is spent using Excel and PowerPoint to analyze and present data that tracks HIV testing and diagnoses of infants (under 18 months) and the laboratory process that surrounds it. The goal is to locate the bottlenecks (i.e., between sample collection and sample dispatch from health facilities, in transit, while processing the samples at centralized laboratories, or during dispatch of results back to the local facilities and to the appropriate caregivers) and then systematically reduce the different components of the total turnaround time. As I think I mentioned in a previous post, I'm also working with the Ministry of Health and central laboratory to negotiate service contracts for the government-owned (potentially expanding to NGO-owned) automated analyzers in Uganda. One of the largest problems here is not that Uganda lacks the necessary equipment, but rather that the equipment is non-functional due to lack of maintenance. Additionally, I’m just now beginning to construct a national quantification for laboratory commodities. This entails working with different implementing partners to assess their current reagent and equipment numbers, incorporating projected scale-up, and combining that with the projected need of the MOH. Ultimately, the quantification will be used by our procurement team to place orders with various manufacturers of laboratory supplies.

After work, I frequently get dinner with colleagues or friends. But, if it’s on the later side, I usually head home, and consume a delicious dinner of cereal and yogurt. I’ve taken to lying on my porch in the evenings (there are about four huge, comfortable couches), and writing emails or finishing up work from the day. So, that’s a typical day in the life of Eleanor at this point. Nothing too exciting, but generally quite fun and extremely rewarding.