Egg Donation

Egg and sperm donation is becoming a booming business in Kampala. It is as rigorous as it is tedious yet, as Carol Natukunda, our undercover reporter, writes, there is neither a law nor financial benefit for Uganda donors, unlike in the Western world

The receptionist at Endoscopy Fertility Clinic leads me to Dr. Patel Prakash’s office. It is a Tuesday lunch time but I am still attended to.

“What can I do for you?” he asks. For some reason, my mouth runs dry, for I do not know how to start. “Don’t worry, everything is confidential,” he assures me.

I decide not to beat around the bush. Patients might be flooding in soon.  “I want to donate my eggs,” I say hastily. He smiles broadly, but wonders out loud why I am keen to give out my eggs when I could make use of them.

I tell him it is out of courtesy. I narrate a story of a friend who is trying to have children in vain. “I want to help anyone in that state,” I say. Prakash looks sympathetic.

“I hope you are aware that what you are doing has no monetary gain. Donating is free of charge, just like someone donates blood to save people’s lives,” Prakash says, emphasising that there will be no room whatsoever to meet the recipient of my eggs.

“When you donate, we do not give you chance to know who you have donated to and the recipient also doesn’t know who the egg giver is. We are going to ask you to sign a contract so you do not come back with various claims,” he says.

“Will I have the chance to see the child from my eggs eventually?” I ask. His answer is an absolute no, but explains that if, at 18 years, the child decides that he wants to see me, legally, he would be allowed to. But that is if the parents reveal to him about how he was conceived.

Prakash adds that the recipient would also receive my egg free of charge. But that the costs of operation involved and checking her reproductive system would be at a certain cost, which he declines to reveal.

“As a donor, you do not have to pay any money for donation or the process of extracting your eggs. Everything is free of charge,” he repeats.

Having answered all my questions, he creates a file for me. He takes down my basic information, from my age to my date and place of birth, my tribe, place of residence, contact details and Facebook account, level of education, my workplace and profession.

For all these details, I give him fictitious names for the purpose of this story. He also wants to know about my children, my menstruation cycle, blood group and if I have any ailments.

He goes on to record as many details as possible; my skin colour, the texture and colour of my hair, my height, weight, interests and hobbies, among others.

“The recipient wants as many details as possible. In fact, I know someone who wants a light skinned person who is a degree holder. When you entered my office, I could see a perfect match,” Prakash says, before asking me to blow my trumpet.

“Talk about yourself and your good attributes,” he says. He is noting everything down as I speak. He repeatedly asks me if I am really ready psychologically to give out my eggs. And I tell him I have nothing to lose.

“Do you have a passport?” he asks. “I am processing one,” I lie. “Please do that as fast as possible, because I do a lot of my work in India. Everything is free of charge  the visa and the air ticket and accommodation and operation costs.”