Christmas is here, annus horribilis

Many times, in these pages, I write about national and international events. In the 25 years of writing in these pages, and 15 years of the privilege of writing a weekly column, I haven’t closed a year on such a note. Losing my father at age 90 was one thing but losing my only brother at age 39 to the ravages of the Big-C is devastating.

It waters away everything that I could associate as a watershed year as we all recovered from the physical, social, and emotional ravages of the Covid-19 epidemic. In 2022, we faced long Covid like many people all over the world, spikes in morbidity, acute pain, distress, constipation but with a bold face.

The nation’s health workers continued to push forward delivering healthcare in improved but not yet adequate health conditions. I am witness to these efforts as we navigated the Uganda Cancer Institute complex for three weeks confronting the challenges of sourcing healthcare in what is now a regional institution serving Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania, Congo, Rwanda, Burundi and South Sudan. The fright and anguish of patients and their caregivers.

The exploding lines at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Outpatient Center. Oncologists literally disappear behind drawn curtains seeing multiple patients at a time. In the corridors, patients quickly trade records for prescriptions to exit. The ravages of cancers, some visible through protruding growths, other more serious conditions inside the human body are difficult to explain.

Earlier this month on a visit to Tanzania, my legislative drafting classmate whispered to me, there was a cancer epidemic raging in the lake region. I talked to a friend at the IMF who told me it had been building for the past 15 years. It is true the cancer institute has grown several fold in terms of space and infrastructure yet the Outpatient, In-patient, Radiation Oncology Unit and Radiology Unit are all stretched to capacity. The need for 24 hour services, in the laboratory that has to quickly mobilise blood and transfusion supplies, the need for improved mobility and even design of the facilities. Fighting cancer is akin to a military deployment. The patient, doctors and attendants are on the move continuously.

But something big about humanity is returning to Mulago. Not a single request for a bribe, the way our traffic policemen roll out their open palms waiting to be greased at each traffic stop. There is an inter-generational skill transfer happening at all levels. Caregivers young and old working professionally alongside each other.

The radiation therapy unit is on hand to administer radiation.

Construction is ongoing of a radiation oncology unit. The elevators in the institute don’t work, just like they sometimes break down at the main complex, leaving care givers balancing hospital beds on stairs to pick up discharged patients from the main operating theater. There is pessimism in the chaos of Mulago that systems are completely broken down. I am more optimistic; systems could work if resources are converged.

Cleanliness and potty manners broke down during the Idi Amin regime, it’s been 50 years since the public health department held national “potty classes”. 

Perhaps the President in his now frequent fireside prattles could summon the health officials to demonstrate how to properly use modern lavatories and the more common pit latrines. In 1986, the toilets in the main complex were clogged and flooded with human waste. Mulago now has a ruthlessly efficient cadre of cleaners, a bright spot.

 It reminds me of the Industrial Court, in Ntinda. A non-descript toilet in a crumbling building that flushes. Somebody blames the burden of the cleaning cadre on red earth, it is more the crumbling road infrastructure around us. The potholes are growing everyday just like the cancer epidemic taking a significant toll on all of us.

It is still a special season, a time of giving, thanks and reflection and a Merry Christmas 2022.

Mr Ssemogerere is an Attorney-At-Law and an Advocate. [email protected]