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.
27 October 2010
23 October 2010
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.
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.
15 October 2010
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
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
09 October 2010
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.
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.
01 October 2010
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.
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.
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