Safari

Well, the lack of blog posts does not mean the lack of activity in my life. Things have picked up pace and I feel like I am living at typical American pace instead of Ugandan pace.

First off, I went on Safari. It was a blast! After a very long, and somewhat bumpy 6 hour drive, we arrived at Murchison falls in Northern Uganda. To a short hike and a view of this:



Afterward, we continued along our bumpy way to the base camp where we were promply greeted by these warthogs:


The next day, we were up and ready to go and saw the sun rise over the nile.


While impressive, the animals soon took priority as we saw these fellows:



And this guy:


And this one:




And nearly got attacked by this:



Back to base camp where we enjoyed a long lunch break. Only to be whisked away to the boat tour down the nile. Where I saw many crocodiles:



And Hippos:


And birds:



The finale was this:


The next day, we drove back to Kampala. However, we had to make a stop at the Rhino park. I was 10 feet away from this gal:



While waiting around for these crazy animals to do anything, I took time to capture the finer details of Uganda. Dew:


And that my friends, was the adventure of my Ugandan Safari.

What a week!

What a week! This week has been packed full! I thought that the end of the school year here in Uganda would free up more time, and somehow I am a bit more busy.

This week I have been working with one of the schools to push through a proposal to send 60 children and 4 teachers to a literacy camp. It is a great opportunity for them to spend time in books, learning how to read, and how to teach literacy! I am so excited about this opportunity for these children and teachers to soak in books!

In addition to this, my mom came to town! I went down to pick her up from Entebbe. We stayed at a fabulous hotel! Let me tell you, it was a wonderful break! I had amazing curry, spent the evening reading, and then took a car to the airport to wait for my mom. In the car, I met a man from Kenya who was there picking up a friend. It turns out, that we have mutual friends from Food for the Hungry. What a small, small world!

It has been a busy few days introducing my mom to the people I work with in each village/site. She made village scones, met some teachers who are working on the above literacy project, ate Ugandan food at a friend's home, had a dress fitting for a Ugandan dress, had her first ride on a bush taxi, went to the market, and enjoyed the first five episodes of season 4 Chuck. (I love Chuck...).



It is great to have her here, seeing my life and work. She has jumped right into life in Uganda and has no fear in trying different things! :)

Happy Thanksgiving!

I had a wonderful day celebrating this American holiday. While the Ugandan society continued on in the rhythm of life, I paused to celebrate my favorite holiday of the year.

I watched youtube videos of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade with my housemate. We laughed about old trends, how the announcers always tell you how many people it takes to pull a balloon and what its size equivalent it is so that you have an understanding of how big snoopy is or sponge bob.

We moved to the kitchen where we listened to Christmas music and made stuffing and glazed carrots for our Thanksgiving celebration. It truly felt like I was home (minus the cold weather and the family). Oh- and there were political parades that went down my street banging drums, blowing their horns, and screaming.

The morning passed quickly and soon I found myself with five Americans, two Ugandans, and a three-year-old Indian boy in a car on the way to celebrate Thanksgiving. This year, I didn’t cross the Mississippi river but the Nile! We went over the river to “the other side” where we drove an hour, through dirt roads, past the sugar cane to get to an orphanage where we celebrated. I joined twenty-two missionaries* and their children and we feasted! I am sure that our dinner table looked very similar to yours- except my turkey was killed in my backyard, my pumpkin pie came from boiling real pumpkin for hours, and the onion rings on the green bean casserole were deep-fried at home. However, it was the same and tasty! The grand prize went to a non-traditional dessert of chocolate mint cookies. Yum!

The crowd:


It was a wonderful time talking with everyone, learning about their work, and their lives. I even met a girl who was volunteering as a nurse from my hometown. It turns out that I know her sister! What a small, small world.

After our feast, we began to worship the Lord. We opened the hymnbook and began to sing, gazing at the amazing green vista. Here I was, with thirty or so people from different parts of the US, many of whom I had just met, and yet we worshipped. Then we gave testimony of why we were thankful.- one after another listing what God had done in the past year. I felt so blessed to be part of this group of people.


The view of the country side while we feasted.


After I came home from Thanksgiving dinner, I skyped with my family. I actually felt like I was home, sitting in the kitchen, with my cousins and brothers, helping my mom cook. It was such a good time of talking! When I finished talking with them, I called my Gram. This dear woman can probably relate to my life in Uganda better than any other family member I have. She grew up on a farm, she took care of the chickens, made soap, washed the clothes by hand, and wore (gasp) skirts. When I told her that we had turkeys in our backyard before they slaughtered them, she didn’t respond like my normal peers in the states- her response was to ask whether they were black or white turkeys. Apparently, their color plays a role in how they taste!




*Missionaries often receive harsh criticism from development practitioners. While I could easily write an entire blog on my opinion of missions and development, I will leave you with this comment: The majority of professional development workers and their NGOs have moved to the northern part of this country, leaving the south still in need. As a result, more and more missionaries have moved into the region, working with the people, and doing the best that they can.

Dancing

This past Thursday I went to Bulbandi to celebrate the end of the term and to say goodbye to the teachers. It was a glorious day!

The sun was so bright; the sky was blue and the clouds puffy white. Everywhere you look the rain has brought its magic to the land and as a result it is green. I was fortunate to sit in the front passenger seat on the way the way there and the way back. As a result, I didn’t have my typical view of African heads. Instead, I was able to watch the beautiful country roll by as I traveled to the next district (state).

On this ride, I realized (again) how beautiful this country is! The rolling hills full of maize, sugar cane, and tea plantations remind me of the drive through Wisconsin. It is this soothing rhythm of the fields swaying in the wind, the farmers working, and the children running about.

Arrived at my destination, stopped to buy some soda (FYI: I am sorry to admit I have officially converted from pop to soda) and the on my way to the school. This time, I directed my boda-boda driver where to go.

At the request of my teacher-friends, I also brought a mzungu cake- a nice, moist, chocolaty cake with real frosting. They LOVED it! They LOVED it! Well, it wouldn’t be too hard to impress these Ugandans with cake since their version is rather dry. We sat and reflected on the term, what they have learned, what they have accomplished, and their desires for the future.
After the students had completed the day’s exams, they assembled and began signing and dancing. Here I sat, under a tree, with a front row view of their performance. Picture small, Ugandan children, with their dirty school uniforms, mismatched sweaters and sandals, dancing and singing. I have often tried to figure out how to explain Ugandan dancing and singing. It is really quite difficult. Therefore, I have a short video which I will try to post at some point. My internet is just a bit too slow!


After the afternoon quickly passed, I had to leave. However, before I did I had a quick dancing lesson from the children. - A lesson on how to shake your hips properly. Let’s be honest, a white American really cannot shake her hips as well as any Ugandan in the world. However I had a lot of fun trying! One girl came right up, we were facing off, shaking, laugh, smiling, with a circle of children around us. Oh so much fun!

Back on my boda-boda to return to my taxi, back in the front seat, back to town. However on the way back, I realized that I felt at home. Being able to master transportation, on your own, in a new city/country is one way I mark my transition into a new place. Be it navigating the freeways of Southern California, or the skyways of Saint Paul, the Metro in D.C. or the taxi/boda-bodas of Uganda. Every time I realize I have mastered the transportation system, I feel content, happy, and glad to be where I am.

Food.

My dog eats better food than many of the people I interact with on a regular basis. How can this be you ask? My dog eats fish or meat nearly every night with a large helping of milked-posho. The humans in my life eat posho and occasionally beans or greens, hardly ever meat. In Uganda, food is part of politics, community, family, celebrations, and social status. The heavier you are, the more wealth you have because if you are fat, you can afford the food. However, the majority of Ugandans eat the same thing every day: posho and beans.

Food is so central to cultural identity, community, etc. It is hard for two human beings to get together without eating or drinking something. Think about it! You invite someone to your house, you will defiantly offer a drink and perhaps offer food. Sometimes you will cook for hours for the perfect meal for your guest. It is the same in the office. You have a visitor come and you offer coffee, tea, water, and perhaps some soda. You would be rude not to.

This week I spent a few hours at the home of a friend’s mother out in the village. This woman is strong; she has raised her children, lost her husband, and is now raising many of her grandchildren. (This community is feeling the effects of AIDS!) She “digs” in her garden to get the food she needs to survive. As in any other culture, it is rude not to offer your guest anything to eat or drink when they visit. So we received warm milk, jackfruit, and boiled maize (still on the husk). The milk came from the cow that greeted (or moo’ed) at me as we approached her compound. The jackfruit came from the tree she owns, and the maize came from a friend who happened to walk by and stop to say hello. This could be the epitome of the fashion trend of eating locally grown food. (Disclaimer: I am totally for eating locally grown food- support the local farmer, eat healthy, etc.) However, eating locally grown food, for most people in the world, is normal. Eating imported food is not.

As a recovering food addict, I tend to think a great deal about food. I like food, I like the flavors of food, I like sharing food with friends and family around a good conversation, I like trying new food. Food sustains our bodies, food defines what culture we come from, where we grew up, and who we have become. I had a lot of fun socializing with my friends and this dear woman’s home. While the foods I ate that afternoon would never be offered to a friend in the USA, I am grateful for the food, the gesture of kindness, and the continuation of a universal human trait: socialization and food.

Since being in Uganda, I am mastering the art of cooking from scratch. For example, last night I spent nearly three hours making the following from scratch: salsa, guacamole, tortilla chips, and taco meet. I made four things, from scratch that a person in the west could get in ten minutes if they ran to the local taco bell. I think I was on a Mexican food kick this week because earlier I made flour tortillas and sautéed bell peppers and onions for a “make it yourself taco bar” effect. Unfortunately, we have no access to cheese and no sour cream.

Cooking in Uganda is not like cooking in the States. In the States you combine pre-made items to get another meal. Take for example spaghetti: canned spaghetti sauce (which in my opinion is terrible) plus some pasta that you pull of the shelf. Heat, boil, and whala! You have dinner in twenty minutes. If I wanted the same dish I would boil the tomatoes, deseed, juice, dice, heat, mash, season, reheat and eat. In addition, there is the process of making pasta (although I am fortunate to have access to pre-made pasta).

Access to food is also different. I have the means to buy essentially whatever I need to make my American food. My friends, they are not fortunate enough to even buy the food to make their national dish and instead opt for the less expensive food.
People are dying of starvation around the world. And my country is gorging itself on pre-made, pre-packaged, packed full of sodium, fast food and is also dying. We have people starving to death and we have people eating themselves to death. Perhaps someday we can find a balance in the middle and share a table full of fresh, healthy food that sustains our lives.

Education Questions

There are a few questions running through my head these days about education and rural Uganda.
1. How do you increase the capacity of a school when there is such a high teacher turnover rate? For example, not even a year ago my organization sponsored a workshop on lesson planning. Today, only one teacher is left from that workshop.
2. Child-centered learning requires access to materials. Of which many of the schools I work with have very little. Picture dirt floors, wood benches, blackboards, charcoal used as chalk, no books, no electricity, a few pencils to share with the students, and old notebooks. How can you train teachers in child-centered methodology despite their limitations? Even if someone supplies these materials, they do not last long.
3. How can local village schools be grafted into the larger understanding of education, specifically government monitored education?
4. Universal Primary Education is fabulous. I am complete supporter. However, it does not reach the poorest. You still have to pay for school fees, books, top-up teacher salaries and uniforms, to name only a few things. Besides a never-ending dependency of child-sponsorship, how can these children get to school?
5. How can girls who have reached puberty stay in school and not leave for one week every month?
6. How can you train children in agriculture plus the normal academic subjects? Once a child is educated through secondary (high) school, the likelihood of them returning to their farming roots is very small. The job, in their eyes, is beneath them. Yet there are few jobs outside of farming.
7. How do you increase the quality of education so that the information children receive will help them in the long-run?

If anyone has any answers, let me know.

School Competition

This past week, I had the honor of being a judge for a school competition. If you have ever seen the movie War Dance, it was very similar. It is the year-end celebration and competition of songs, poems, traditional dancing, skits, instruments, and teaching of lessons.

It was incredible to watch, with a front seat, the children performing. As time progressed, there was probably two-hundred to three-hundred people surrounding the area, watching their children. The skill these children have is incredible and I feel honored to be apart of it. Unfortunately, it is difficult to describe the experience. So below are pictures that will help you get the idea of the event!



The day started out with welcome songs and dances from the children.



One child is sporting her American pride with her foot wear.





Cold drinks were provided for the crowd.


Drums were beaten for the dances.





And the children focused intently on the various competitions.


Some dressed up in costume and performed skits based on traditional stories.


Finally, the evening ended with this little man beating the drum and everyone dancing!

My feet were beyond red today- they were dirty red.

Today, I came home with incredibly dirty feet and legs. The day started out with me meeting our volunteer and translator outside of a grocery store- our normal spot, next to a Boda-Boda stage. I quickly greeted the boda-boda drivers and were off. Avoiding the mid-day traffic of trucks, bodas, bicycles and cars, we managed to cross the street. We were ushered into a taxi and told to sit "four-four". In American English, this means four people to one row in the mini-bus. Four-Four is typical to Uganda- cramming as many people as possible into the taxi. The licensed limit is three people to one row, totaling fourteen people maximum. This taxi had twenty-two. To make twenty-two, I had a grown man sitting on my lap, the conductor, who handles the seating and money of all passengers. The driver weaved in and out of traffic- passed off the bribe to the check point- through a village to avoid the police- and back to the main rode. We came to a major village stopping-point where one passenger wanted to disembark. However, the door was stuck. As a result, this passenger climbed through the window to get out. Here I was, stuck in the middle of now twenty-one people, wondering how in the world I would get out of this taxi. Thankfully five men pried the door open and the conductor fixed it. Then we were off, racing down the pot-holed road, avoiding small children, goats, and cows. All the while, I was fairly positive the passengers enjoyed a conversation about me- the mzungu.

Finally, we arrived at our destination. I disembarked quite easily, but my friend, the translator, came out with one leg asleep and barely able to walk. Such is life of taking a bush-taxi! We walked the mile up the dirt road, with small children holding my hand, while we greeted their parents in the fields. We made it to the school/church/bakery/tailor spot right when the children were let out for the afternoon. Therefore, I was mobbed by small children screaming "mzungu!". When they had settled down, my arms and hands were streaked with red-dirt. Awesome.

We spent the afternoon talking with the teacher about literacy strategies and then talking with the director about his record keeping for the bakery. Once my official business was complete, I joined the women and youth making the buns to be put in the oven. We were nearly finished and a crack of thundered boomed over the fields. The impending rain was about to come.

We quickly moved everything inside the school/church/bakery/tailor spot and continued. Once done, I sat in this structure, listening to the rain, the women chatting in Lusoga and playing with a small child. For whatever reason, I felt very, very far from the streets of my town in Uganda and also my home country. We waited. We waited for the rain to stop. We waited for the bread to be done. We waited for more women to come. We waited. Waiting is part of life here. Waiting for it to improve. Waiting for the rain to water the fields. Waiting for a spouse to come back from town. Waiting for the government to bring any material improvements. Waiting for the sponsor from the "other side" (West) to come back like they promised. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

At last, the bread was done and the rain stopped and translator and I had the long walk back through the mud road to the main road. Thankfully we were both smart and wore closed-toed shoes. Thankfully we didn't fall either (although there were close calls!). We made it to the road, with perhaps three inches of mud and sticks stuck to the bottom of our shoes- my legs spattered by mud and my skirt incredibly dirty. But at last, we had made it. Back onto the taxi where I was charged double for my skin color, as we raced down the road, avoiding pot-holes, small children, cows, and goats. Back into town, onto a boda, and back home.

And that is how we do it in Uganda. That is why my feet were red today.

Saturdays- Jewelry and the Nile

Today, I decided to be a bit of a tourist and go to Bujagali Falls, which is part of the Nile. It is stunningly beautiful! My friend and boda driver took me out and we enjoyed seeing the falls together. It is quite a bumpy ride out to the site, but once you get there it is all worth it. There are really no words to describe its beauty so here are two pictures for you to enjoy.


Lovin' the Nile!



Stunningly beautiful!

Last Saturday the NGO sponsored a jewelry-making course for deaf children at a local primary school. Bernard, a skilled jeweler, whose shop is near our office, led the course. There were nearly thirty students learning how to string beads. Typical to children anywhere, they eagerly began, with giggles of excitement as they worked for four hours on their new skill. Below are a few pictures to capture the day.



Hard at work!



Too cute for words.

The Report Card is in for Education in Uganda

This week a report came out from Campaign for Education, and many other major supporters, addressing the 60 countries where it is the worst to have a child in school. Unfortunately, Uganda made the list. Not only is it the worst place for a child to get an education in East Africa, it is the eleventh worse in the world.

This week in the newspaper there was an article about the government disputing the validity of the study, saying that they were asking questions of the students that were too difficult and not at level. Perhaps they are right, the questions were too difficult for their students- but compared to global standards, they should not be.

Education is a messy situation in this country. In 1997 Universal Primary Education (UPE) was implemented for a maximum of four children per family, and in 2002 laws were passed for all children to have a free primary education. I wish that “free” were actually the case. Uniforms, books, food, dormitory, and paper/writing utensils are not free. Thus making what should be a free education difficult to attain for the poorest of the country.

Uganda has put into place measures to increase the education level their children receive. Therefore, to be ranked so low in this report is not only a blow to their ego but it is discouraging to see that the efforts they have taken have not increased the quality of the education significantly (at least to global standards).

When I read this article and the conversation about the results, my heart is pained. Over the course of years, much of the issues addressing the developing world do not affect me the way it use to. Development practitioners become numb to the problems as the years pass by. For whatever reason, this report got to me. Perhaps it is because I work with schools, teachers, and children on a daily basis. It is not only a statistic, but it is much more tangible.

I work with the children who cannot read the alphabet in grade three. I work with the children who cannot solve a basic division problem as well. This report is based on government and private schools. I cannot imagine what the statistics would look like if they surveyed non-formal community-based organization run schools. The schools that I work with!

Perhaps this report only reinforces the need to continue the work that my NGO, Fount of Mercy, is doing! Working with teachers and schools to increase their ability to teach the national curriculum well. To give children who will never have the opportunity to go to college, let alone secondary school, the best primary education they can get. I work with teachers to increase their ability to teach, but really so the children gain a better education. One in which is their human right and will better their lives for years to come.

Here are some key statistics in regards to the importance of education according this report:
• The cost of failing to provide a good quality education for all children in poor countries could be as much as $70 billion a year, due to lost economic growth.
• No country has ever achieved continuous and rapid economic growth without first having at least 40% of adults able to read and write.
• An adult who has completed primary education is likely to earn 50% more than an adult who has never been to school.
• A single year of primary school can increase the wages of people earn later in life by 5-15% for boys and even more for girls.


For more statics and information please download the report here: http://www.campaignforeducation.org/docs/reports/1goal/1Goal%20School%20Report.pdf

Home Sick

Today I am contemplating what to write for this weeks update. The only thing I can say is that I was sick. Which leads me to write a blog post about health care in Uganda, well at least a commentary on my personal experience. I apologize in advance for the lack of pictures. The only thought in my head was to see a doctor and feel better. Therefore, the camera stayed at home.

For the past ten days I haven’t been feeling well, but nothing that would really prevent me from working. Then on Sunday it hit. I doubt that many of you need the details, considering that this is a public blog and symptoms are not really exciting to read unless you are a doctor. Lets just say, I was sick. Really, really sick.

I spent Sunday and Monday praying I would get better. Fighting strange symptoms that would not compute to the normal illness one might find in the States. Tuesday I spoke with a dear friend, Dorien, who is a nurse and conveniently lives in the apartment above me. After a brief consultation and a call to her mom, we determined I needed to see a doctor. She gave me the numbers of two doctors that the muzungus use. I called the first on the list, Dr. Debbie, and she answered. Here is the first cultural difference! Unless you knew the doctor personally, you would never schedule an appointment with a doctor directly. Yet I did. Dr. Debbie is Australian who has lived in Uganda for six years and works for a clinic that is respected around the world.
Wednesday I woke up, took a boda to the compound that Dr. Debbie lives and works. After greeting a handful of men, I was directed to wait in the hallway. Dr. Debbie emerged and I she brought me into her office/examination room. Quite literally, there was a desk, a few chairs, medical supplies, and an examination table in the corner. After discussing my symptoms, her looking at my head, and feeling my stomach, she believed I had a virus. She wrote on a paper and instructed me to go and get blood work done at a different clinic.

I hopped on a boda, and directed the driver to where I needed to go. I enter this compound and there were 20-30 individuals waiting outside in the courtyard, all looking very ill. I walked into the building and up to the front desk and told them what I needed. The receptionist flatly responded that it would be 15,000 shillings (roughly $7). I hand her the money and she tells me to go to the back, through the red door. I entered right when a man finished drawing someone’s blood. I hand him my papers and he directs me to wait. I proceed to watch two other people’s blood get drawn in front of me, which Ugandan’s call bleeding. I suppose you are bleeding but purposefully which is why American English has a different term. In addition, Americans are very private people both in daily life and with medical issues. This is not the case for Ugandans. I saw everything.

The room was divided in half, divided by a glass wall. On one side was a few chairs a tall table and behind the table another chair where the lab tech drew the blood. On the other side of the room was where the blood was tested. A few men, listening to the radio, worked on wooden tables, with microscopes that reminded me of high school biology class. When my turn came, I told the man that my veins were difficult to find. To which he immediately responded by having me sit in the lab for one of the other men to draw my blood. At which point, we all began to chat about life (read=them incredibly curious as to why a white woman was sitting in their lab and if I was available to date). Miraculously enough this lab tech was able to draw my blood on the first try! Please know, that most American lab techs are never, ever able to draw my blood out of my arm! Or should I say, able to bleed me.

An hour later, my results were done and I went back to Dr. Debbie’s office. Unfortunately, I missed her by a few minutes and sat to wait for her return. During that time, I spoke with the man who cleans the compound, and watched as Dr. Debbie’s children run up and down the halls getting lunch prepared. About halfway through my wait, a young man walked in looking terrible ill. He has only been here for three weeks but from a non-trained eye, it looked like he had Malaria. I felt so bad for the man as he seemed completely full of anxiety to the fact that he was sick. I am sure his anxiety was a combination of being in a new country, being sick, and not knowing what he would do. Yet it is so common for people to become ill! I am constantly hearing about people in the hospital, people dying, etc. that it has become normal. Sickness is part of life anywhere in the world- but illness that is preventable with modern medicine and yet people still suffer, is part of life in Uganda.

Finally, Dr. Debbie returned, read my results, and wrote (in my notebook) the medication I should buy. In Uganda, you do not need a prescription. I went to the pharmacy, told them what I wanted, and they sold it to me. Many people will often for-go the doctor and head straight to the pharmacy, explaining their symptoms and requesting their advice on medication. After spending $1.50 on medication, I proceeded to my house where I crashed, exhausted and sick.

All in all, I spent roughly $30 on doctor’s fees, blood work, transportation, and medication. In the United States, people would call that a good deal. In Uganda, people don’t have that kind of money. I am not wealthy, to American standards, to any extent. I would probably fall under the poverty line given the fact that I am taking out student loans. However, I am wealthy compared to the majority of people I interact with on a regular basis. My wealth was able to provide the necessary doctors, blood work and medication so that I will be better in a few days. For others, their lack of wealth would could potentially be life threatening.

Settling-in: Uganda is becoming another home.

This past week I feel like I have entered another stage of settling in. Everything is no longer new and exciting, a routine has begun to shift into place. It is good, I feel like life in Uganda is becoming normal.

Last week we went to Kampala, the capital of Uganda, to run a few errands. We took a coaster, which is a bus that seats four people across, with no aisle, totaling 25-30 people. The bus ride went quickly since I have been introduced to the joy of podcasts (so far, my favorites include: Stuff You Missed in History Class and Stuff You Should Know). We arrived in Kampala and strange memories of Nairobi mixed with London came back. Kampala is Uganda's version of New York City. In essence, it is a crazy mash of people, cars, places, and advertisements. Everyone is in a rush and has something to accomplish or do.

In Kampala, there are grocery stores that are similar to Target. Huge, overwhelming, and basically has everything a Westerner could ever want. We stopped to pick up inexpensive chocolate, duck tape (to fix my slippers the dog has torn apart), and some dog bones. In order to enter the store, you have to go through security- a metal detector wand and a bag search- which never happens in my town. However, it made me feel a bit safe- especially since there were bombings a few months ago in Kampala that targeted Westerner hang outs.

We had a few other stops (Ministry of Internal Affairs and the US Embassy) but I will spare you the boring details. From the embassy we walked about a kilometer down the road to the nicest hotel/restaurant I have seen in Uganda yet. We ate lunch (fabulous burgers!), sat on the veranda, purchased real cheese, and beautiful European pastries (tiramisu, berry tart, and mini-cherry pie) and visited with my friend, Rachel, who I met in London. It was refreshing to have an afternoon hanging out with Americans. Hearing about their work, their impressions of Uganda, etc. I feel like this visit to a western compound was just what I needed. Thankfully Rachel and her group of friends offered us a ride to where our coaster (think large mini-bus) was waiting. It began to down pour rain and their lift saved us significant time! Kampala is prone to flooding, and within ten minutes of heavy rain, the streets were already flooded!



Picture of yummy cheese and a village scone (aka roll).


The ride back was uneventful with the exception of the driver getting a speeding ticket, the man infront of me sharing his opinion on Ugandan politics, and the small girl we passed by who had been hit by a car. It was incredibly hard to see the Aunties running towards the scene, screaming, while the mother was wailing over her daughter's body. Unfortunately, her death is all-too common as the roads are not safe for pedestrians and especially children can be easily hit.

A few other big things happened this past week! I purchased a mini-modem that has fast internet. After a month of slow internet, I broke down and upgraded. This will allow me to skype with family/friends and download articles I need for my research. I also had a tailor make me two new skirts. I wear skirts on a very regular basis for work and having a few more are really nice! One is simple black but the other is an African print.

In addition, I have become better friends with the lizzard/gecko that lives in my room. I named him Fred and have told him to stay on the curtains/walls if he wants to survive the next six months in my room. I like to keep him around, though, since he eats the mosquitos!


I apologize if this post is a bit boring. Yet, last week marked a point where Uganda is becoming a home and the simple, mundane things like going to the capital and buying new skirts, were the highlight.

Teaching under the Trees

Today I spent the day in at one of my favorite site locations. Just a preface: I like each site and organization I work for. They all have very distinct personalities, work, and goals. Each day I am excited to see how the day’s work will unfold.

However, I especially enjoy going to one of my schools, located in Bulabandi. After a long taxi ride into the next district (state), and a daring boda ride to the village- which includes avoiding potholes, going over huge dirt piles that remind me of dirt-bike racing, and then through a footpath that is surrounded by fields- I arrive at the school. Before I have a chance to pay my boda driver, the children swarm. They sing songs of greetings, while simultaneously mob me for a hug. After the initial attack of children, the teacher organizes them and they begin to sing a bit more. The ones, who have decided I am their best friend, stick close. There is absolutely no way to describe to you how wonderful these children are. My heart fills with joy- yet I know their lives are not easy. One little girl, Gloria, never leaves my side. She is in nursery (preschool) and is as cute as a button, although incredibly shy. The teachers will tell her to go home (since nursery is only half-day) and yet she silently refuses. It is only when I am done with lunch and we are about to begin our teacher-lesson does she leave. I will take a picture of her sometime soon.

While I enjoy the children, my main role is to work with the teachers. After a lunch of poshu (boiled maize flower) and beans, we dive into the material. Today we talked about learning styles, took a quiz to find out our own learning style, and then brainstormed ideas on how to teach lessons to meet the needs all learning styles. These teachers are very enthusiastic about learning new concepts around teaching and also to improve their classrooms. They are good with the kids, get along well, and are enjoyable to work with. They are still feeling me out, figuring out who I am and what kind of relationship will become of my bi-monthly visits. I hope someday, to be (to some extent) grafted into their school and community.

While our conversation on learning styles continues, I cannot help but look around and be amazed. We sit under a large tree, out of the sun, talking about children and teaching, while the schoolgirls play a version of handball/cricket and the boys play soccer. It is quite picturesque and I truly feel blessed to be here.

Field Visit Review

Pictures speak a thousand words. Below are pictures from two of my four days out on the field. I had a fabulous time interacting with the participants of four CBOs. The women that comprise these organizations are strong, taking care of their children and/or grandchildren in addition to farming or other income activities. They are mostly farmers that are learning sewing, crafts, or baking skills to supplement their income.




One of the women apart of a tailoring class hard at work.



Ida in her home. She was showing me all of her beaded necklaces.


Three women involved in the Bread Basket Project



The process of baking bread in the village!



In personal news, as a result of the power and water being out for nearly 48 hours, I found the fastest Internet in town. It is at a medieval restaurant where the waiters dress up in bright green peasant shirts and have theatre on weekend nights. Its great! (Not to mention, mzungu (white) food that is served is fabulous!)

The Nile

Today, I spent the afternoon reading for my literature review overlooking the Nile River and Lake Victoria. It was a stunning view and at times, I was distracted from my reading! Thankfully, I made it right before the rains came pouring down! I really have no words to describe how magnificent it was to see the rain, the water, and the green hills. So instead, I have uploaded a picture that, unfortunately, does not do the view justice. As I sat reading, I could not be more overwhelmed with the fact that I am incredibly blessed. Few people from my country have the opportunity to get a masters degree, even fewer have the opportunity to live in an amazing country that is blessed with a powerful river. I am not sure why I was chosen to be in Uganda this year, or why I have been given the privilege of obtaining another degree, but I am incredibly thankful.



In other news, I spent the week meeting with more stakeholders, avoiding muddy roads, and celebrating the third birthday of a little boy with his family and friends. I am starting to get a feel of this town, the rhythm of life and the work that I have before me.

I spent one day this week, working with Robert, and being introduced to many of the women involved in the baking project. The original goal of the day was to talk about their record keeping and to gain more trust. Lets just say, plans never go to plan here and I ended up on a wonderful, adventurous ride through the village- stopping at the homes of key women in the group. These are strong women who hold their households together, raise their children/grandchildren and manage to still be involved in a baking project. I am excited to work with them as I see so much potential!

Well, I should post this before the internet goes out. Cheers!

Celebration

Today I was invited to attend the 25th anniversary of a mission’s organization in Uganda. I went and enjoyed the celebration full of speeches from the most honored, choir songs, and of course- a feast of Ugandan food. Ironically enough, it was my first time eating Ugandan in Uganda. Waves of memories from Kenya mixed with my school group’s outings to the local Ugandan restaurant in Boston came flooding back. This was a huge celebration, in a wonderful location. The view from this compound was stunning, with a wonderful view of lake Victoria and its islands. I wish I had taken a picture!

After sitting through the program, eating lunch, talking with a few individuals, we decided instead of taking a boda back to the main road, that we would walk. We joined up with a few women from the celebration who lived close by. One woman, full of joy, linked arms with me as we walked down the road. Her presence was full of life, her smile was large, and her eyes danced! I was completely in awe of her ability to pull me out of a potentially embarrassing situation with her mother and whisk me down the street. Not five minutes later, she stopped and showed me her home and we parted. About halfway through our walk, the rain decided to pour! Huge, thick drops fell from the sky. Thankfully, a group of women in a long row of homes called us over to their front porch so that we could stay dry. Without their help, we would have been soaking wet within a few minutes. One invited us into her house, where we chatted about various topics: the weather, family, where we live, etc. The home was nice, with a few chairs, and a partition between the back half (bedroom) and the front room. Her friend rushed in a few minutes later when she heard that mzungus (white people) had stopped. This girl, probably about my age, had a laugh that was contagious! We stayed until the rain let up and continued on our way.

Rainy season is upon us, which has allowed me to think a lot about rain. When it rains, everything stops. No work is done because it comes down so quickly. I see this beautiful, clean water fall from the sky into the fields and roads. Hardly anyone catches the rain that I have seen. Access to clean water is a problem here, and yet a lot of it falls on a daily basis. How can people capture the rain to make use of it? I know there are models out there, but is there a way to train individuals to do it themselves? Perhaps another project, another organization, and a different dream…

Firsts

This week has been filled with firsts and also subtle reminders of why I love East Africa. Uganda is similar to Kenya, which I believe is one reason why it has been somewhat easy to transition. Yet, I am still waiting for the moment where I just completely break down into culture shock. So far, so good though!

On to the firsts. I rode my first boda-boda this week. For those of you who don't know, boda-bodas are motorcycles you hire. They are everywhere in Uganda! You flag a man down, hop on the back of his boda and he will take you wherever you want to go (for a small fee of course). Thankfully Lori, my supervisor, started me on a small route from our home into town. After my first ride, I got off and was shaking. Mind you, this was my first time on a motorcycle ever! With my practicality constantly in my head, I have always thought of them as one of the most dangerous modes of transportation and therefore have avoided them like the plague. I will apologize now for those who read this and absolutely love motorcycles. Now that taking a boda is a practical mode of transportation, I think I will grow to enjoy it. The next thing I conquered with bodas this week was to ride side-saddle. What is a woman to do when she is wearing a skirt and has to ride a boda?

I also met two of the three organizations I will predominately work with. Both are a little out of town in nearby villages. Both I am excited to work with for varying reasons. More to come on these I am sure. For now, lets just say that I am incredibly honored to be part of their work. One thing I quickly realized during these visits is that I need to learn some of the language. While English is commonly spoken, not everyone has a strong command of my language. Hopefully language lessons will start in the next few weeks. I'm still debating if I will just take lessons to learn the basics or move beyond that. Any suggestions?

Besides meeting the organizations, taking bodas and getting a feel of the town, I have also immersed myself in Ugandan curriculum for grades one through four. I've read a fair amount, asked questions, and am ready to dive in with the teachers and students. To give some background, Uganda has a new curriculum which is focused more on problem-solving and creative thinking that the rote method of teaching. I am working with a few schools to help them transition to this new style of teaching.

Well, off to make dinner with Lori and most likely watch a bit of the t.v. show Chuck.

Cheers!

Made it!

I made it to Uganda! I feel so blessed by the entire trip. In Chicago, one of my classmates, Megan, was on my flight to London. We talked before we got on the plane and then after we landed. It was nice to see her, hear what she is doing, and start my trip out with a Hellerite!

Literally, two minutes after I said goodbye to Megan, I entered the bathroom and met a woman who was also traveling to Uganda. Mind you, I had a ten hour lay-over in London and I thought it was a bit odd that someone happened to be on my Chicago flight who was also going to Uganda. She suggested that I go into the city with her and take a bus tour. Now, I have never been a big fan of bus tours. Somehow I have never thought it was the way to go- you really don’t get to experience the culture of a place, just see its buildings. Well, while I didn’t experience much direct British culture (with the exception of food ordering), I did see a great many buildings. I am even willing to publicly announce that bus tours are not a bad option! Especially if the public transportation might be confusing to get to various touristy areas. I had a wonderful time getting to know this woman (turns out she is from the area my brother lives!) and touring London with her. My hope is to be able to connect with her at least once while I am here.

After we returned to the airport, we spent some time having dinner, freshening up, and people watching in England’s best terminal (terminal 5). The flight to Uganda was incredibly empty with an odd mix of people. East Africans, study abroad students, older looking aid workers, missionaries, tourists, and the occasional volunteer. I must say, the steward staff were the best I have ever had! They were so nice, friendly, and talkative. I am going to assume that the majority, if not all, the people on this flight like to travel and enjoy cultures- so we generally all got along.

John, a local man, picked me up from the airport and I enjoyed the 4 hour drive to where I am currently. I asked him a lot of basic questions about the culture and society. He in returned, took it upon himself to play tour guide and point out various spots along the way (i.e. the Coca Cola factory, tea, sugar, and banana plantations, the section of the city that sells radios, etc.)

John dropped me off and I was warmly greeted by Lori, my new supervisor, and her puppy, Muffin. Lori is great- I am looking forward to working with her! And the puppy, well- she is super cute! I am kinda glad we have a dog since I have wanted one for so long.