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Sunday October 28, 2007.

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Where they need no cash

Nurse = Inyhensico attends to a pa= tient.INSET TOP: Brigitte Daley. INSET BOTTOM: The currency used at the centre

AT Tekera resource centre in Mas= aka district, locals can get medical treatment and education even if they= do not have money. Henry Lubega found= out how the scheme works

They sit in silence pondering on their ailments and pains. The silenc= e is only punctuated by sounds from the children. Some are sick and coughi= ng while others, who have simply accompanied their parents or grandparen= ts, are playing.

A few metres away, a man is watering a nu= rsery bed, and not far from him is an elderly woman tilling the land. Strap= ped to her back is a child. Her two other grandchildren are resting under= a tree.

This is Tekera Resource Centre — the brain child of a Canadian couple, Brigitte and Bruce Daley. Located in <= st1:PlaceName w:st=3D"on">Buwunga Sub-county, Masaka District,= the centre has breathed new life into the locals who live within a 5km ra= dius of it.

Made up of a health centre, primary school, adult education centre, f= arm and crafts and sewing women’s group, it has got numerous activi= ties to keep both young and old occupied.

Started in 2005, the resource centre is not the usual mzungu project found in rural Uganda. Instead of depending on money from overseas, it is dependent on the locals who benefit from it.

Brigitte first came to Uganda in 1972 as a volunteer nurse working at Villa Maria Hospital, bef= ore she was forced out of the country during the turbulent days of Idi Amin.

However, when she left the country part of her stayed, so 29 years la= ter she sold her family home and, leaving her two sons in Canada, returned to Uganda with her husband.

“Because I knew Luganda, I chose to= come back to Masaka. I worked with Masaka Hospital for = three months, while my husband volunteered with a Danish NGO. It was during this time that I realised the discriminat= ion that existed in the way NGOs worked,” says Brigitte.

She bends to carry a young girl who runs up to her calling her ‘= ;jjaja’ (grandmother). “Okaabira ki? Obadde ki? Why are = you crying? What has happened?” she asks the girl in Luganda as she caresses her to calm her.

“The discrimination between orphans and non-orphans made me thi= nk of how I could help the community in general rather than helping individuals. Besides it was not developmental, making people dependen= t on receiving free things,” she adds.

With the proceeds from the sale of their family house back in Canada, she and her husband bought an apartment from which they earn some mon= ey. It’s this money that they use to run the centre.

“Some of the income from our apartment in Canada and small donations from individual friends back home is what we use = to supplement the money from the farm,” says Brigitte.

Another source of income from the centre is phone charging. Locals pay sh500 to charge their phones using the centre’s solar power.
“On average we collect sh60,000 a mo= nth from phone charging. We also make money from crafts made by the women= in the community.

Some times we get volunteers from overseas who help us raise a little money when they go back to their home countries,” says Brigitte= .

Unlike the case with most NGOs, the locals do not come here for hando= uts, but for trade-offs.
For example, locals work in the centre’s gardens in order to ac= cess the services at the health centre.

One of the sick people in the queue on the verandah is Muwonge Byakatonda = who has malaria.

“I had worked and saved my pesos (the currency in which the community is paid for working at the centre). Now I have just brought= my pesos and I will be treated. On top of that I am sure of getting drug= s, unlike in the government health centre,” he says.

Farm produce like pineapples, cabbages, egg plants, tomatoes, water melons, french beans, among others are gr= own on the farm.

They are not consumed by Brigitte and her husband, but instead taken = to Masaka town for sale, where the main clients are Brovad Hotel and Tropical Inn. The money from the produce is used to stock t= he health centre, as well as pay the resident nurse, Ritah Inyhensico.

For an hour’s work on the farm, locals receive one peso, which = is equivalent to sh1,000. It may sound too li= ttle, but it has great value at the health centre. Malaria treatment for an adult costs only two pesos which is equivalent to sh2,000.

This would not be possible in an ordinary clinic and explains the popularity of the health centre at Tekera.

Tereza Bukirwa, for example, walked one mile with her three grandchildren to the centre. “I came here very early with my three sick grandchildren. I had= no money, but I worked on the farm for three hours and earned enough to treat all of them,” she says.

Two of her grandchildren had malaria, while the other had respiratory problems. “The good thing with the centre is that you can save = the little money you have and buy sugar or milk for the sick children sim= ply by working here and getting treatment in return.

Besides, when you come here you are assured of getting drugs, unlike = in the government centres where you may not = even be attended to and if you are, there is no medicine. You still have t= o go and buy it,” Bukirwa adds.

Because the peso is only redeemable at the centre, some locals have illegally turned it into some sort of a legal tender.
“Some people go to the shops and exchange the peso for money bu= t we are discouraging this,” says Brigitte.

A shop owner at Tekera trading centre who didn’t want to be nam= ed admitted to getting the peso at a discounted rate from some locals. <= br>
“People who have accumulated many of them come here for merchan= dise and I downvalue the peso by sh200,”= says the shop owner. People like him use the peso to access the centreR= 17;s services without doing any work there.

An LC1 official in the area says Tekera is the best thing that has happened to the area.

“You can imagine the nearest health centre is about seven miles from here. There was no reasonable primary school within a radius of = two miles in this village. Children were walking long distances, but all = this has been solved, thanks to Brigitte,” he says.

The centre does not stop at meeting medical needs. The peso is used to pay for adult education as well. Students pay two pesos per month to learn how to read and write.

In addition, a primary school, which goes up to P5, has been set up. “We are in the process of formalising the registration with the education ministry and by the beginning of the = next academic year we shall be able to have a full primary school,” = says Brigitte.

In the meantime, pupils are required to pay a maximum of sh10,000 per term in school fees, but the modalities= are being worked on how the fees can be paid in pesos, meaning parents wo= uld have to work at the centre in order to send their children to school.=

Asked why she opted to have people working at the centre in exchange = for services rather than using legal tender, Brigitte switches to Luganda: “Abantu<= /span> bavu tebalina sente ate nga nemilimu tewali. Tebalina kyebajamu = sente(People are poor. They have no jobs and therefore no income). So I decided to start something they can be involved in and not be on the receiving e= nd alone.”

Judging from the comments from the beneficiaries, it is a strategy th= at is working. “It is easier to come and work here. I come at my w= ill and I know that I am doing it for my family.

I spend two hours working at the centre after tending my garden at ho= me. This centre has made our life simple,”says= Paul Ntume.

Another man who is waiting for treatment says he and his wife divide their time between home and the centre. While one works on their gard= en at home, the other works at the centre. “I am looking after six= of my own children and four of my late brother.

Taking care of their medical needs was not easy. When Brigitte started this centre, it was a godsend to my family,” he concludes.

But like any new idea, Tekera Resource Centre was not without problem= s at the start. Many Ugandans, mostly in the rural areas, are used to being given free things by NGOs. Brigitte says: “We started by giving= out free medicine.

This was not working, so after three months we had to close temporari= ly. We had to change the strategy, but it was not easy. People wanted everything for free.

The idea of them working for the service did not appeal to them, thou= gh their attitude has now changed.”
In three years time Brigitte wants the project to be self-sustaining = so that she can start a similar project in a different part of the count= ry.

“I will leave this one after some time and go somewhere else, b= ut the area will still have to be in Buganda,” she say= s.

Published on: Saturday, 27th October, 2007

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