verba volant, scripta manet

Sorry for the lack of updates in the past week--dysentery can really take a girl out of action for awhile. I feel a little like I’m living the game of The Oregon Trail. While I'm not entirely certain, my suspicion is that my stomach bug came in the form of undercooked eggs in a Rolex (not the luxury watch, but a type of Ugandan street food consisting of a fried egg rolled into a chapatti. Yes, it’s as good as it sounds…I’m considering opening a Rolex stand near the New Haven Green if this whole healthcare stint doesn’t work out). I suppose that if you’re going to fall ill while abroad, it might as well be with something exotic. Sadly, dysentery is only so glamorous; I would’ve preferred to say that I survived a bout of cholera or dengue fever, but apparently, choosiness is not recommended. Having taken some non-FDA approved antibiotics for the past few days, I’m almost back to my normal self. Now if only I could decide whether to take the ferry or ford my wagon across the river…

I’ve been back to work for a couple of days and things are progressing fairly well. We're currently coding the responses to the quality surveys, having conducted a very brief pilot. As I’m sorting through the logistics of this survey, I’ve developed a deeper appreciation for the nuances of speech and language: for the first day of the pilot, I observed my friend (and translator) conduct the questionnaire in order to ensure that it could be completed in a realistic span of time, and that my questions were clear and relevant to my target population. My friend was kind enough to translate the patients’ answers into English for me throughout the pilot. However, I found it incredibly frustrating to hear a patient’s five-minute answer in Luganda translated to and recorded as, “It’s fine,” in English. As the interviews were being conducted, I noticed so much going on in the client’s body language and facial expressions; it killed me to find it all distilled down into two fairly meaningless words. It’s slightly disconcerting to imagine how much crucial data and testimony is lost in translation.

I could ask my friend to translate the answers sentence-by-sentence, but it would be blatantly disruptive to the flow of conversation--it wouldn’t be worth satisfying my curiosity at the expense of conducting an effective survey. I may use a voice recorder at the interviews, but many people (especially those from more vulnerable populations) become incredibly nervous and skeptical of my intentions when they see the recording device. It also seems that my physical presence may be detracting from a patient’s willingness to answer honestly: I feel that I’m an unfortunate (and confounding) distraction for many of the clients. As such, I'd like to train some local university students and RHU volunteers about the basics of conducting a survey. This way, RHU can hold onto this skill long after I leave. It would be really wonderful if the same people who conduct the survey also learn how to analyze the data. I have all these big plans (and more!) for the next month—we’ll just have to see how many of my goals are realistic and useful.

Recently, I’ve been craving some independent exploration of Uganda. While it’s wonderful to be traveling with passionate, driven, interesting people, I think I have a strange appreciation for getting lost and wandering on my own in an unfamiliar place. I’ve come to understand that being able to travel alone is an incredibly useful skill and I would hope it’s something that can be cultivated in anyone who has the opportunity to travel. In addition to being immensely empowering, independent travel also forces you to address your experience, how you feel about it, and how you will change from it in a very immediate way. My father traveled throughout all of India when he was 16 years old, and he still remembers it as a time of intense introspection, fierce independence, stupid freedom, and a rare form of happiness. I get pangs of these sentiments, though I imagine that they come out in full force after extended periods of solitary travel. Perhaps I have the makings of my plans for summer 2009, or maybe it’s just the dysentery causing such rumination. The side effects are strange here, I tell you.

My apologies for the (potentially toolish) Latin title, but I’ve found myself surrounded by a lot of Latin recently. Clearly, I’m reverting back to high school when Latin was the cool thing to do (wait, that was never true?!). Loosely translated, it means, “Words fly away, but the letter remains.” This used to be one of my favorite quotes from my Latin teacher, but I think I read it with a grain of salt these days, especially given my recent tumultuous relationship with language and speech. You’re welcome to take it or leave it.

Hope you’re enjoying the 4th of July, wherever you are in the world. I’m back in the States in a month. My goal is to stay healthy until then.