The Veterinary Oath

Honorable Mention, Experiences
Heidi Rivadeneyra, Tufts

I woke up this morning to the sound of a rooster crowing, birds chirping and some faint singing and drums in the background. As my eyes open, there is a faint light coming from the window, but I see nothing else. I grab a flashlight and turn it on to see my little desk just as I had left it with some books, handmade bracelets, and a cherished, yet at many times pointless, cell phone. Figure 1: Dr. Valery Shean, Joyce and Me in Kangole, UgandaAs I literally crawl out of bed un-tucking and lifting the mosquito net, I laugh as I hear that rooster crow again. Even after weeks of hearing him every day it is endlessly entertaining. I am reminded of so many little kid stories and amazed at their accuracy in describing the sound I had only heard on cassette tapes up until a few weeks ago. I stand up and pull on my full-length skirt before opening the door of my grass-thatched hut so as not to be seen as indecent in my good-old American pajama pants. Outside it looks like the sun is just rising. The sounds I heard from inside have come to life as I open my door and I thank God for where He’s brought me. Listening to people sing and dance every morning reminds me of what is important in life. It’s nothing like at home. I wonder how I ended up here in the middle of Karamoja, Uganda... What could I do to help a people who had been war-torn for the past 50 years, stealing each other’s cattle just to survive? Well, I have yet to find out. So far, I am sure they have taught me so much more than I have given them.

We drove a couple hours and were getting close when we saw a lorry truck sideways in a pond down from the road. We opened the window to ask if everything was okay. They said all the people were out but they needed help. As we pulled up, I saw why... it had been carrying a bunch of cows. They had been tied up in the back of the vehicle... packed in – maybe about 15 total. A number of them had gotten out and some were swimming to shore as we came over, but there were about five still stuFigure 2: A Karamojong herdsman with his cock. We locked the vehicle and Dr. Val ran down to help... her veterinary oath kicking in. I shut the window and as I get to the back of the lorry, Val is already in the middle of everything, yelling for me to bring a knife. I take the keys and run back to the vehicle, unlock the door and find my knife. Val is nowhere to be seen as I return, so I follow suit
Figure 1: Dr. Valery Shean, Joyce and Me in Kangole, Uganda
and jump into the water, still in my full-length skirt. People yell, warning me it’s deep and telling me to be careful. I, of course, ignore them and slide down the slope in my sandals and skirt right into the water. It’s up to my waist as I walk around the top of the vehicle, which had become the side as it tipped into the pond.    As I turn the corner, the scene is quite amazing. Val takes the knife to free one of the cows whose head is barely above water. There were five or six total and they were all tangled with each another and in the frame of the vehicle. Val hands me back the knife and I put it in my pocket, covered in manure and swamp. She tells me to hold up the head of the cow to keep it from going under again while she and another man try to pull at various legs and tails to free it from the mess. I hold it up by the nostrils and as I’m standing on one bar of the vehicle and the side of another cow that was already dead, they extricate it enough for it to be freed. There was one more living cow entangled awkwardly under a few who didn’t survive. I hold it’s head out of the water and then pull on one of its legs while Val and the man move another dead cow and try to get the other end free. I hope that it doesn’t decide to kick me and try to stand far enough forward that it won’t be able to, when eventually it is able to struggle its way out of the mess. They pull it to shore while Val and I determine that our work is done.

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