Laid low in the tropics...

Throughout our trip I have been the healthiest of the three of us. Although Becky and Chris have not really been sick, there have been days when they have not been up to snuff. Not me, though. Until recently I have been the perfect picture of tropical health.

Now I have been struck down twice in two weeks:

1) On the eve of our trip to the northern Uganda town of Apac, the most "malarious" place on earth, I felt the rumblings of a facial blemish forming beneath my cheek, just under my right eye. I sensed that this was not a garden-variety, junior high pimple -- it came from somewhere deeper, near the very core of my being. I knew it would be big, but I was naive. This was, in fact, the largest pimple in history. Dr. Linda generously declared it a a staph infection, but I know in my heart that I was laid low by a zit.

The swelling soon sealed my right eye shut, and my cheek throbbed with pain. My face became lopsided and my speech slurred. I was well taken care of, though, since all of my friends here are doctors. Becky began referring to me lovingly as Quasimodo. I preferred Elephant Man, but Quasimodo works in a pinch. We settled into a routine, and I began planning my life as a facially warped version of my former self. Should I get a mask like Zorro? Or maybe like the Phantom of the Opera? Tough decisions all around.

One day last week when it seemed the dam would never burst, the dam burst. It was as if all the stress and excitement of this trip had decided to manifest itself in one glorious explosion. I won’t bore you with the details, but we got most of it on tape for posterity. YouTube here we come! I bet I can slip it into the documentary, somehow.

Although I am still on the mend from a zit that inflated my face like a balloon, Africa decided that I have not yet faced enough adversity. ‘You can get a pimple anywhere’, Africa cackled madly, ‘But let’s see how you deal with a real African disease!’

2) Last weekend we took a jaunt to picturesque Kabale in southwest Uganda. It is in this quaint, mountain town that the Ugandan government has decided to begin a comprehensive Indoor Residual Spraying program for malaria control. We wanted to witness it firsthand.

Shortly into the 7-hour trip on typically potholed African roads, I was struck by several warning signs: Splitting headache, muscle aches, mild nausea, loss of my infamously robust appetite, general feeling of weirdness, etc. I tried to blame road conditions, but Dr. Linda suggested that I go to the doctor on our return.

After being poked and prodded by the maddeningly efficient Dr. Stockley, and producing all manner of "samples", I was told that I have bilharzia and amebiasis.

Click the links to read more.!

Is there a silver lining?, you ask. Why, yes! While bilharzia and amebiasis are cheap and easy to cure in Africa, it is much harder to diagnose in the developed world…it’s just not on their collective radar. So if I had developed symptoms in Europe, no one would have known what to do. Furthermore, since we eat the same food, swim in the same lakes, do the same things, we sent Becky and Chris in despite lack of symptoms. Chris was clean, but my little Becky had the amebiasis.

So our drug regimen will last for the next week, and then we’ll be fine.

Let's figure out where we're going, what we're doing...

I have clawed my way out of the deep, dark abyss that was my first editing session. I can rub my eyes and see the sun shine on another glorious Kampala day. I have just finished a short that we will submit to festivals – I am proud of it, but it has made me wonder what we need in order to finish this project and how to schedule our rapidly dwindling time in Africa.

It was a whim that brought us here, and a whim that led us to the DDT issue. Dumb luck, providence and a little help from our friends allowed us to blindly wander into a story that continues to develop new complexities every day. The problem is, I don’t know how we are supposed to tell it.

So here I sit in Kampala, confused, knowing full well that Uganda has become a battleground on this DDT issue, but wondering how to convey these amazing events to our friends stateside.

Let's work this out together: Are we making a film on the malaria problem as a whole? Hmmm. I used to think so, but, if so, then it is far bigger than what we can do. Our footage doesn’t come close to doing it justice. Furthermore, it is not really a story. Terrible, yes. Heartbreaking, absolutely. But where is the arc? Plus, we'd actually have to see some malaria for that to work.

So, then, are we making a film on the DDT debate? It is certainly timely, but it is a huge, ranging story as well. I don’t know if we can tell it, but it definitely has a beginning, middle, and, perhaps, an end.

We had planned to go to South Africa, a country touted as the example of how to run a malaria control program using DDT. However, we have learned that their spraying initiative has already taken place for the year. We cannot see the sprayers in action; we are too late. Ditto for Zambia and Tanzania, countries that have been spraying DDT in recent years. So that is out.

We looked into vaccine research. They are doing very cool things on this front in Mozambique, Ghana and the US. But there is no hope for a workable vaccine before 2015. This ensures that the DDT debate is not going away any time soon.

It might be easier to focus the story on the Ugandan experience with DDT and the problems they have faced (lord knows, there are many!), but does that really encompass the scope of the issue? Will people care about Uganda? Focusing on the DDT debate in Uganda would allow us to show: elements of the malaria problem – it kills millions; the economics – DDT threatens trade markets; the compassion - what does trade matter when 320 die every day?; then the worrying environmental effects; the unknown health risks; governmental corruption; worldwide ramifications.

But I still worry about the scope. The story is bigger than Uganda, and I want to convey that fact. This is a story that needs a global perspective; a counter-example and a larger conflict

But luck smiles us again: The good folks of Rwanda have thrown us a bone by announcing a thorough and resounding “NO!” to DDT. They say they can control malaria with alternatives that won’t threaten the health, environment or trade of Rwanda. Well, that’s something. That’s a counter-example. Now we have a conflict. Now we have a story, and we’re going to Rwanda.

It’s alright, Ma, it’s just Rwanda.

Leaving Nairobi...

We have left our home base in Nairobi for good, and I’m sure our parents our glad. Throughout our travels we will see places where corruption runs rampant, every mizungu is a mark, and children are kidnapped to serve in a cultish army. Even among these places, Nairobi has a wicked reputation. We have been told time and again that we will be scammed in Nairobi – it’s just a question of time. Scammed if we're lucky. Robbed if we're not. Killed if we're stupid.

Scott Hillstrom said as a parting thought just before he left Kenya, that we shouldn’t get complacent on the streets of Nairobi. ‘On the street here, they don’t value human life. They will cut your throat for a few shillings.’

Not the most inspiring final thought.

The thing is, we didn’t feel unsafe in Nairobi, or no more fearful than we would have in downtown Chicago. By avoiding the bad parts, sticking together, not letting Becky out of our sight, I think we could have been safe for some time. So, were we complacent in the face of evil? Not really. We played it safe, and we played it smart.

That is not to say that Nairobi isn’t rough. We have been speaking with our cab drivers and almost all of them have been hijacked at gunpoint in the last year. Almost universally, they keep their gas tanks near empty so that would-be hijackers won’t be able to drive out to the middle of nowhere without filling up. We faced nothing more frightening than highly aggressive “women of the night.”

So we have left the lawless city of Nairobi for the warmer climes of Lake Victoria and the quiet (relatively so) city of Kisumu. Here we hope to see our first case of malaria – over a month filming a documentary on malaria, and zip!

Eric apologizes...he is not on top of it.

I am not on top of it. It's hard to write when your whole day is taken up on African time.

The Birds

I hear Uganda is a birdwatchers paradise. Well, I haven't seen too many, but I can tell you that Kampala is overrun by a bird called the Marabou Stork. It is by far one of the most disgusting creatures I have ever seen. Imagine a bird as gross and prevalent as pigeons are in any big city stateside. Now imagine if that bird was about 5 feet tall, with a long, razor sharp beak. They cover the tops of trees, signs, lampposts. They stare at you as you walk by like something out of a Hitchcock film. They give me the creeps, and yet I cannot look away.

On the flipside, Kampala is incredibly clean, and I recently learned that much of the credit goes to the afforementioned stork. They eat carrion, garbage, and possibly annoying children, as I have seen few of those around the city.

Eric apologizes for the delay. He's on top of it.

Based solely on my blog, it should appear to the outside observer that I have had but one experience during my three weeks or so in Africa. It's not true. Every day has been a wild experience. Every day I learn more than I ever could have imagined, and I work harder than I ever have before.

To put it mildly, I'm exhausted - we all are at some level. Combining incredible new experiences with new sleep patterns, new (and often uncomfortable) means of travel, new knowledge and new people...well, all this newness a recipe for exhaustion. And, there, ladies and gentlemen, we have my excuse for not updating my blog in two weeks.

In order to remedy the situation, after last night's invigorating slumber, I promise that every time I connect to the internet, I will give all interested parties a short synopsis of my current experiences. Additionally, I promise to do at least one extra blog each day until I'm caught up. So almost every day, you'll learn at least one more paragraph about what my experience has been like in Africa.

By the way, this counts as one.

A Day in the Kibera Slums

It is early Saturday morning in Nairobi, and as I sit and type from the exceedingly comfortable balcony of my exceedingly comfortable apartment, I have had a chance to reflect on the events of yesterday.

We went to Kibera in the morning, one of the largest and most famous slums in Africa. I remember it from the movie, The Constant Gardner, but it was much different than any of us expected. We had been prepared for worse.

Don’t get me wrong…the slum is a terrible and sickening place. It is heavily polluted by all manner of soot, open sewage routes, human and animal feces and dust. Small rusted shacks line pathways that have been washed out by this short rainy season. Stagnant water sits as a breeding ground for mosquitoes and malaria. Filthy children splash and play in what I hope is mud, but I know better. It is a place where dust dries your eyes, and constant feelings of nausea wash like waves over your body. It is unlike any place I had ever seen, and, yet, I had been prepared for worse.

In a city of three million people, one million live in Kibera. But they are one million living as a community. Those living in Kibera seem involved with each other and to depend on each other. The slum is teeming with life, music, shops, food. Everyone is out enjoying the day. I expected the residents of Kibera to be angry. I expected them to blame others for the situation – I would. I had steeled myself to witness misery, but I didn’t see it. I had readied myself to feel pity, but I didn’t – not really. I have heard of violence in the slums, but I didn’t see it – there is certainly no more than we are used to in the US ghettos. In fact, I felt safer than I could have in the projects of Chicago.

It is raining now, and it is falling hard. I’ve heard that we’ve been lucky the last few days with no rain during the day. The pathways of Kibera must be washed out now and the vibrant scenes of yesterday must be gone, the community retreating into the endless line of shacks. The people living in Kibera live in squalor and filth, but they make the most of it, and they do go on and enjoy life. I thought it would be much worse.