Jiggers Break Out In Kayunga
Dec 21, 2003
The dust rising from the potholed road and so many grass-thatched huts lining the road, tell one part of the story in this area –– it is poverty-stricken!
By Joshua Kato
The dust rising from the potholed road and so many grass-thatched huts lining the road, tell one part of the story in this area –– it is poverty-stricken! But when an elderly man quickly unzips his equally elderly trouser and starts scratching away near his manhood, the second part of the story is told –– this place is jiggers infested!
The walking style for most of the people in Kayonza sub-county in the Kayunga district is far from ordinary. Men, women and children walk in a zig-zag form with their legs facing opposite directions.
The toes are pointing in different directions –– some are pointing up, while others are pointing east and west. The toes are similar to gazelles scattering in different directions when a lion suddenly attacks. In the trading centre, not far away from a local bar, a young boy claps his hands endlessly.
But, the boy is not high with happiness –– he is trying to reduce the itching caused by jiggers. Just looking at his fingers show colonies and colonies of the white, stubborn itchy creatures of God.
Then, blood oozes from small wounds all over his body.
"Lam a hunter," the boy tells me. “I hunt with my dog," he adds while looking at a black small dog. Closely observing it, I realised that its plight is not far from its master. The dog is rubbing its body on a tree. Like its master, it spends most of its time rubbing its body on trees and walls to reduce the itching. The boy tells me that they no longer hunt properly because of the jiggers.
The boy tells me that at one time, he had to remove over 150 jiggers from his legs. That is surely too much. But, the boy denied that fact.
"My brother removed 250 jiggers on the same day," the boy tells me.
A record of sorts? Maybe not.
"A man removed 300 jiggers from his body," the boy also said.
Amazing.
The bar is a round grass and wattle hut. It is full of people of all ages. All of them are talking animatedly while drinking away from dirty plastic cups filled with mwenge bigere, (which the is local brew.)
None of the patrons in the bar have any shoes. Their feet are resting on the dusty ground. An obvious breeding ground for jiggers. And, none of them has a cloth that is not torn in one way or another. Come to think of it, everything is jiggers. A man using his jiggered-infested feet produced the brew they were drinking. The brewing man with jiggers on his feet and the bar owner carries colonies of jiggers on their bodies. Blood oozes out of the multiple small wounds. His fingers are not spared either –– they are full of black spots and wounds.
But his patrons seem unperturbed. Many of them are suffering the same fate. Suddenly, the people break into song.
Though fairly drunken, some of the voices are good enough for a village concert, and they sing, Kangunwe gunkwate, nobugere bunteruke, yesu bwalidda ndimubuuza ani yakola embidde, which means, Let me drink and become drunk, so that my toes and feet turn over. When Jesus comes back, I will ask him who created booze.
Funny song, since their toes and feet have already been turned over, not by booze, but by jiggers. Jiggers thrive in poor and dirty environments.
Indeed, poverty is the second name for these areas. The district should be among the leading producers of pineapples.
And most of the residents have a chance to share in this glory, but very few plant the pineapples because they spend most of their time in bars drinking the local gin, Uganda Waragi. Most of the affected families have resigned to the power of jiggers. The district chairman Steven Dagada says that fighting jiggers was not part of his priorities, especially in this era of the computer age.
Ends
The dust rising from the potholed road and so many grass-thatched huts lining the road, tell one part of the story in this area –– it is poverty-stricken! But when an elderly man quickly unzips his equally elderly trouser and starts scratching away near his manhood, the second part of the story is told –– this place is jiggers infested!
The walking style for most of the people in Kayonza sub-county in the Kayunga district is far from ordinary. Men, women and children walk in a zig-zag form with their legs facing opposite directions.
The toes are pointing in different directions –– some are pointing up, while others are pointing east and west. The toes are similar to gazelles scattering in different directions when a lion suddenly attacks. In the trading centre, not far away from a local bar, a young boy claps his hands endlessly.
But, the boy is not high with happiness –– he is trying to reduce the itching caused by jiggers. Just looking at his fingers show colonies and colonies of the white, stubborn itchy creatures of God.
Then, blood oozes from small wounds all over his body.
"Lam a hunter," the boy tells me. “I hunt with my dog," he adds while looking at a black small dog. Closely observing it, I realised that its plight is not far from its master. The dog is rubbing its body on a tree. Like its master, it spends most of its time rubbing its body on trees and walls to reduce the itching. The boy tells me that they no longer hunt properly because of the jiggers.
The boy tells me that at one time, he had to remove over 150 jiggers from his legs. That is surely too much. But, the boy denied that fact.
"My brother removed 250 jiggers on the same day," the boy tells me.
A record of sorts? Maybe not.
"A man removed 300 jiggers from his body," the boy also said.
Amazing.
The bar is a round grass and wattle hut. It is full of people of all ages. All of them are talking animatedly while drinking away from dirty plastic cups filled with mwenge bigere, (which the is local brew.)
None of the patrons in the bar have any shoes. Their feet are resting on the dusty ground. An obvious breeding ground for jiggers. And, none of them has a cloth that is not torn in one way or another. Come to think of it, everything is jiggers. A man using his jiggered-infested feet produced the brew they were drinking. The brewing man with jiggers on his feet and the bar owner carries colonies of jiggers on their bodies. Blood oozes out of the multiple small wounds. His fingers are not spared either –– they are full of black spots and wounds.
But his patrons seem unperturbed. Many of them are suffering the same fate. Suddenly, the people break into song.
Though fairly drunken, some of the voices are good enough for a village concert, and they sing, Kangunwe gunkwate, nobugere bunteruke, yesu bwalidda ndimubuuza ani yakola embidde, which means, Let me drink and become drunk, so that my toes and feet turn over. When Jesus comes back, I will ask him who created booze.
Funny song, since their toes and feet have already been turned over, not by booze, but by jiggers. Jiggers thrive in poor and dirty environments.
Indeed, poverty is the second name for these areas. The district should be among the leading producers of pineapples.
And most of the residents have a chance to share in this glory, but very few plant the pineapples because they spend most of their time in bars drinking the local gin, Uganda Waragi. Most of the affected families have resigned to the power of jiggers. The district chairman Steven Dagada says that fighting jiggers was not part of his priorities, especially in this era of the computer age.
Ends