always call me ‘madam.’ At the hospital, the nurses call me ‘mademoiselle,’ the interns and several doctors call me ‘miss,’ and the boss, when he needs me, says ‘Go and find my Canadian.’”
Lucille’s plan was to spend eight months in Marseilles before heading to Paris to finish her internship there. She was so caught up in her new life that she thought little about the Italian doctor she had met at Ste-Justine’s. Meanwhile Piero had left Montreal to work first with his brother in Africa and later with a friend who ran a hospital in India. During his travels, Piero had thought often about his meeting with Lucille in Montreal, and they had exchanged a few letters. Now that he was back home in Italy, he decided to visit her in Marseilles.
One day, Lucille arrived home from the hospital and was surprised to find Piero waiting on her doorstep. “What are you doing here?” she asked. He looked a little sheepish as he explained: “You see, I have been thinking about you so often that I decided I would come and tell you all about my travels.”
He invited her for dinner in the Old Port of Marseilles. They chose a table by the waters edge where they could hear the sea lapping against the breakwater. Piero ordered bouillabaisse, the hearty fish soup that is a popular specialty of the region, and a bottle of wine. As they savoured the meal, he talked about his trip.
He had visited many different medical projects in Africa, both in Chad and in the Congo. He had also worked for a period in India. But it was during a visit to Uganda that he had made an exciting discovery. “A friend took me to the north of the country to see a small dispensary, St. Mary’s Hospital, near the village of Lacor,” he explained. “The clinic is tucked away in a remote corner of the region and has just forty beds. It is run by a dozen Italian missionary nuns, the Comboni sisters, who serve as nurses and midwives.” He paused, sipped some wine, and continued. “The minute I saw the facility, I knew this could be the answer to my dream to build a world-class hospital in a Third World country.”
Piero was also deeply moved by the beauty of Uganda, a country that was eagerly approaching its independence from Britain in 1962. He desrcibed his impressions to Lucille and talked about his plans to build a hospital that would provide specialized services to supplement those of the district hospital in nearby Gulu. “My fondest dream,” Piero added, wide-eyed with excitement, “is that, in time, this small hospital could become one of the best in Uganda and one that would be completely run by Africans.”
As he talked about his plans, Piero spoke faster and faster. “I know that what I am talking about is a gigantic task, but I feel certain that, with Gods help, I can make it happen.” On the more practical side, he believed that he could handle all the administrative duties of the new facility. He could recruit doctors from Italy and train nurses locally. “But most important of all,” he added, “I need someone with experience in surgery.”
There was a long, silent pause as Piero braced himself to pose the question: “Lucille, why don’t you come to Uganda and help out in the hospital for two or three months?”
Lucille was stunned. She hardly knew Piero and she knew almost nothing about Uganda. As the meal progressed, Piero’s childlike enthusiasm became infectious. “I will even offer to pay your airfare plus money for cigarettes and toothpaste,” he said.
Lucille laughed. “You are very, very persistent.”
Piero left for Milan and Lucille pondered the idea of joining him in Africa. She was enjoying her life in Marseilles and was anxious to complete her course. But she found herself thinking more and more about Piero’s offer. Here was the chance to live out her childhood ambition to be a doctor in the Third World. She suddenly found herself thinking, Why not?
As Christmas approached, Piero telephoned her from Milan and asked her to join his family for the festive season. Lucille saw this as a good chance to get to know him better before making a final decision. She was also curious to meet his family. He had spoken of them often and appeared to enjoy an especially close relationship with his parents, something she had lacked in her own childhood. Just before Christmas, she boarded the train for Milan.
Piero met her at the railway station and they travelled together to Besana in Brianza, the town where his parents lived, an hour’s drive from Milan. As they approached the family home, she couldn’t believe her eyes: their house was a huge mansion standing on vast grounds ringed with palm trees. The interior was even more lavish, with large family portraits lining the walls and maids in frilly white aprons floating from room to room.
Piero’s family welcomed her warmly, curious about this new arrival. In her presence, they all spoke to her in French or English, then among themselves switched effortlessly into Italian. Though they could not have been more welcoming, Lucille couldn’t stop thinking about her own modest upbringing in the east end of Montreal, and she felt uncomfortable and out of place.
The next night, Piero took her to a performance of the ballet Cinderella at La Scala, the world-famous opera house in Milan. She was overwhelmed by the opulence of the auditorium, its five semicircular tiers of boxes reaching upwards to the ornate ceiling. They sat, as if in a dream, watching the fairy-tale story unfold. At intermission, as Piero poured a glass of champagne, Lucille cast aside any misgivings and told him: “Yes, I will join you in Uganda. But I must make it clear that it is only for a month or two.” They raised their glasses in a toast to the future.
Lucille returned to Marseilles and prepared to leave for Africa.
I always thought that all of Africa was a jungle, so imagine my surprise to find a forty-bed hospital virtually in the middle of nowhere. For a population of 40,000, I am the only surgeon able to do certain operations. Fortunately, I brought along my surgery textbooks. – Lucille Teasdale, 3 May 1961
On 2 May 1961, Lucille joined Piero in Milan and together they boarded a UN military plane that would take them to Uganda. As it lifted off, Lucille was bursting with excitement. This was her first trip to Africa and the beginning of a thrilling new adventure.
Acholi dremmers give Lucille a noisy African Welcome On her arrivel in may 1961.
Dr. Lucille checking over a new admission
They flew slowly southward, and she watched with fascination as they crossed the blue expanse of the Mediterranean. Then she spotted its southern shoreline and knew this must be Egypt. The arid desert stretched as far as she could see, while the Nile River threaded its way south into the heart of Africa until it reached Uganda, where it emptied into one of the largest lakes in Africa, Lake Victoria.
Uganda is a relatively small country, about the size of Newfoundland, and completely landlocked.
