Vikki Wright is a Western worker who, together with her British husband, directs the YWAM Arua training center in northern Uganda. They have two children.
Heat waves shimmer above the dusty ground as my milkman measures out our portion of milk. Squatting next to him with the saucepan, I casually ask how things are at home.

“They’re not okay,” he replies. “People are dying.”

“Sorry!” I say. “What’s happening?”

“It’s this sickness…meningitis.”

“You come from that village?” I heard that meningitis had broken out again.

“Yes. That is my place. Even those I stay close to are dying.”

I glance over at my unvaccinated three-year-old daughter, and reject the urge to shove her back inside the house. “Take this to Munduru,” I say, handing her the sieve. Anything to get her away from a potential meningitis carrier.

Turning back to our milkman, I click my tongue and say, “Sorry. We will be praying for you and your village.”

That encounter is too close for comfort. I immediately set about making complicated arrangements to get a vaccine brought up from the capital city, Kampala…a seven-hour drive away. Then I get online to read about the meningitis outbreak.

A New Vision article from January 14 reports nine deaths out of 42 patients in Arua district, mostly from Dadama and Oluko sub-counties…my milkman’s home. The article goes on to say that “meningococcal meningitis is more likely to affect children, with about 400 children under the age of five dying from the disease annually.” Gulp.

Dr. Nathan Kenya Mugisha, Ministry of Health Director of Clinical and Community Health Services, advises people to restrict their movements, observe hygiene and avoid crowded places like markets. Meningitis is an airborne disease, and thus “it spreads rapidly and kills quickly, but it can be treated if it is reported early,” he says.

Dr. William Mbabazi, in charge of integrated disease surveillance and response at the World Health Organization, says the disease, which thrives in dry weather, is a yearly occurrence in Africa's “meningitis belt” that stretches from Ethiopia through central and West Africa. Annual forecasts by the World Health Organization have correctly predicted these dry season outbreaks since 2005.

So why aren’t there any vaccinations in Arua district? Why does it take weeks for the medical teams to mobilize themselves and start vaccinating? Why aren’t preventive measures taken earlier to vaccinate the vulnerable areas and possibly avoid an epidemic altogether?

Fortunately for my family, we are able to order a vaccine from Kampala and receive it the next day, even though I’m only allowed to buy one. But what about the other seven small YWAM kids on the base that still aren’t vaccinated? And what about the rest of the Ugandan kids who don’t have access to the vaccine? I feel guilty for my Western privileges, yet grateful that I can protect my child. How do I reconcile the grief I feel on the one hand and the relief of being able to provide for my child on the other?

It’s a bittersweet road to walk. All I can do is pray and trust the Creator of Heaven and Earth who holds each one of those children in His hands.