Uganda's Sadness and Promise

On the way home from Jinja, Dennis and I took a matatu. Not the only way home, but usually the only quick way to start the journey now. One thing we failed to think of was rush hour in Kampala. Now, to clarify- Kampala is a city of about 4 million people during the day, but only 1 million at night. That means 3 million people begin traveling at about 5 o’clock going one place or another. Taxis (or matatus) often take “short cuts” during rush hour. They go careening through some of the worst dirt roads and the poorest neighborhoods of Kampala to miss a little congestion- through mud, people, goats and even chickens crossing the road (why would they even try?). It is not easy to traverse these roads, and so to have the drivers go bouncing along at relatively decent speeds means that they are again making you bounce as much as the tassels hanging from their rearview mirrors!

just thinking of my women and microfinance group!

After having our stomachs turned so much, Dennis and I finally got to Kampala headed for Java Café (somewhere I knew had internet and that I could find without much memory) in order to do some internet hotel searching. My phone was still being finky (due to not activating the sim card –opps), so we thought we could skype call some hotels to see if rooms were available, because Jeliza Hotel had been booked out! After finding a place in Wandageya, near Makerere University, Dennis and I dropped things off in the room before heading straight to dinner. We were feeling famished after smelling all the delicious, yet overpriced food at Java. We ended-up eating some local food near our hotel (the College Inn) with some very nice service and English news on as well! It had been some time since I had actually seen any news. There are no TVs in either Spark house, so it leaves me entirely off the map when I don’t have internet for more than Blogging and returning emails! The dinner was delicious, with G-nut (ground nut) sauce just like I remember it! So good! They really do make it better in Uganda- even the posho tastes better (when dunked in massive amounts of G-nut sauce…). My eating habits here definitely aren’t good. Lots of chipati and eggs, samosas, and lots of matooke! They are all so tasty, and since I end up only eating one or two meals a day, my head is almost always larger than my stomach. I am to the point that I can get a no left-overs plate of food at buffets, but when I eat out and am given a plate, it is inevitably heaped.

The next day was our day in Kampala. I figured it would be best to spend Sunday in Kampala so that most of my homestay family would be available at one time or another. I made sure to check when my mom would be back from church, and even then ended up with a late start. Dennis and I were finishing up a survey for one of the SPARK projects that two of our colleges would be visiting on Tuesday. It will be interesting to see how those answers come out since we weren’t able to walk through the questions with those facilitators that would be procuring the survey. Either way, after we finished-up, I headed to the taxi park. It was just a bit after ten and the city was crawling with people already, so taxi park was a zoo! I just had my fingers crossed that the taxis to Kansanga had not moved to a different place from three years back. It had not; those things don’t change too much luckily, and I found my taxi quickly heading toward Gaba Road and what had been home for Fall of 2009. I exchanged a few words with the woman next to me on the taxi and received a compliment on my accent in Luganda. That made me very proud, so good job SIT!

When I got off the taxi, my feet knew exactly where to go, and yet something felt different. I was about half way home before realizing they had paved the road! No muddy puddles, rocks to watch out for, and no major potholes to fall in (yet)! It came as a surprise, but soon enough my memory had led me straight to the piles of bricks, the unfinished two story building and the sounds of chatting in the back by the chicken coops. While I knocked and did not at first get a response, the gate to the house was open, and with a little fear of being impolite by barging in, I did. I got within hug range before my homestay brother Daniel turned around. And the hugs were plenteous! 3 years is a long time to be away from one’s family- even if not biologically, they had taken my under their wings instantly with open hearts last time I had visited in what will always make returning to Uganda worthwhile!

After much visiting and looking at wedding pictures, a relatively quick lunch with pineapple dessert (that I had brought with me), I was late to meet Dennis back at College Inn. He is such an easy going travel partner, but I didn’t want to keep him waiting too long. When momma asks you to stay for lunch though, there is no option! So I did, and got back to College Inn about an hour and a half after or designated meeting time! Dennis had spent the morning wandering around Wandageya, Makerere, Mulago and the slums that surround it. He seemed to be in relatively good spirits, and was sitting in the hotel bar with internet! While I checked email, he went to take another video of the slums he had passed through. I was glad that he was able to compare some of Kampala with Kigali, Rwanda, because they are so incredibly different!

Gaddafi Mosque, yes built by the one we've heard so much about....

After we had met up, we headed into the heart of town in order to find our bus for the next day, visit the Gaddafi Mosque (a building I had only seen from across the city before). It is easy to understand how these structures can hold such immense places of connection with one’s self and others. There were people meandering one way or another, but in the end, no one was idle. From boda bodas (motorcycles) zooming by to running into a gentleman who had been on our bus from Musanze, we were reminded just how small the world can be, which was perfectly juxtaposed with the largeness of the city. Apparently, there truly are three taxi parks, I thought in my time in Kampala I had been to the old and new parks, but nope! I had just been to the Old Park and its annex at Cooper Complex. New Taxi Park was actually further down the same road as Old Park, but I had just never needed to go there! After finding our bus for the next morning (and the location of New Taxi Park), we bought some jackfruit for Dennis to try! It is probably one of the most exotic fruits I have ever eaten and comes in such massive quantities that you really only want it previously cut up and packaged in smaller bunches. Jackfruit is almost indescribable in taste, but the things that come to mind are some combination of gummy bears, juicy fruit gum and peach rings. It is certainly delicious and while we were going to wait until after dinner to eat it, our walk to dinner took long enough that we decided to break into it anyways!

We made our way (in a very round about fashion) from Old Taxi Park to Garden City and ate at Watab (?), an Indian food restaurant at the top of the shopping complex. While it was a more expensive dinner, it was again- just as delicious as in my memory! It was super spicy to the point that I could hardly taste the rest of the jack fruit later in the night, but it was so tasty that it was worth every step of the walk there (which had left me a bit sore footed!)! This wrapped-up our evening delightfully and we hurried home to get some sleep before our 4:45 wake-up to make the 6 o’clock bus to Mbarara.

Definitely looks sanitary...

Mbarara was our plan for Monday in order to visit Nakivale Refugee Settlement. The trip out there didn’t go particularly as planned, because we could not find the Somali taxi that traveled in and out of the camp. In the end, one of my past translators had us meet up with someone named GoalKeeper- he plays soccer as such. While a private hire, he told us it would be 5k UGS each way per person. This ended-up truly being our downfall, because even after I said there and back would cost 20,000 shillings, this was a serious miss communication. Not only was this not how much he planned to charge us, but he actually wanted 5 times that! To this moment, I will not understand where he learned his math (because it is awful) even at 10k per person for 5 people (which apparently was what he had meant you still only get 50000 shillings). Either way, it was unexplainable to him and for us we literally did not have the 100K shillings that he was expecting. It was a heart breaking end to the day realizing that we had been operating on such different versions of reality, but in the end he got $40 USD which came close to his ridiculously flawed math just so he would let us go in peace (and in hopes that he wouldn’t bother my friends in the refugee camp). Luckily Dennis kept his cool, because after such an emotionally gut wrenching day, I was definitely in no position to keep mine. (Keep in mind as this is happening there are other hawkers walking to my window wanting to talk and sell me things). 

Definitely the most frustrating moment of the trip thus far, but it happens when language isn’t universal and when education in mathematics is not successful. Even basic mathematics was impossible for this driver to complete. It is sad, and is something that keeps people poor. A lack of mathematical skills causes unnecessary heartache, and develops abrasive attitudes that can be painfully present in situations like this.

Beyond our miscommunication there, the trip was a success. I was able to get news of Anthony who apparently has gone back to Sudan, and a phone number for another of my trusty translators. Peter seemed to be doing alright, and I met with some of the Congolese women I had seen in the past. There requests and updates were hard pills to swallow, but I also don’t know that I agree with what they think is best for their children’s education. They want their children to only be taught in French, when they will be likely never to return to Congo, and even more unlikely to be repatriated into a French speaking country. This was a foreign concept, but it was their wish. The change in leadership at the camp has brought fewer and fewer rations for its 50,000+ population. There are new water purification stations that seem to be more prevalent, but the ground was dry and harsh. Peter seemed pessimistic as ever- merely hoping to get out and find work. Of course many people in the camp want me to take them under my wing, hire them to work for Spark, pay school fees, give them water, food etc. It is just not something I can do! It breaks my heart, but what can I do? (Ironically that is the question they often ask me...like I would know the answer.) You can’t help everyone- no one person can. Even if there were 50,000 people to help these refugees find work and resettle, there are 100s of thousands of others left hungry and idle. It’s heart breaking to see and hear. The overwhelming nature of the problem is something you can’t ignore here. It is not just one village where you can put food on the table, it is a massive city of poverty. I couldn’t even walk its length in a day, and yet everywhere within the settlement people are hungry and losing hope. They want to be the one person you pick to help, and yet even having helped one family to educate its children, you leave so many others in rough shape.

Dennis and I didn’t eat all day either. He enjoyed the visit a lot, but I was not only in bad spirits by the end of the day, but being hungry only was another reason to be annoyed in one’s self. What is my one day of being hungry compared to the hunger of these refugees that get 3.5 kilos of maize flour for a month! Who am I to say that I am hungry- easy to lose one’s appetite in a moment like that!

The day ended well though with Dennis getting me to eat and laugh some more, and knowing that Sasha was waiting for me to get to Kansanga (also reassuring that I knew how to get to the Educate house). I was so grateful not to have to stay in Kampala alone for the night. I ended-up sleeping on my backpack through the entire 4 hour bus ride back to Kampala (with the exception of a few chats with mom- skype disconnected). Emotionally, I needed it, and it got me ready for the day to come which would involve work- but it’s hard to call it that, because it feels so much more like play! 

Borehole repair, but the Jerry can didn't fit so out came the saw!

Monday brought a visit with Edmund. He will be directing the group in Mbale starting in September. Currently, he is working in Mukono (near Ssezibwa Falls) at a small school that has begun doing some microgrants of their own! They began by surveying many communities and found a plethora of problems- no surprise. There was one however that was bite sized enough to make a difference. Most of the communities in the area had begun to see their boreholes deteriorate, and most were in need of real repair or deeper drilling. These are not exactly the most costly fixes, but the government put in the boreholes, so the communities are expecting that they will fix them as well. The never consider to do it themselves, and even when they do, they often do not have the capital needed to do so. This school has begun work on many boreholes in order to connect communities to their water sources, repair experts and help create community water boards that collect a monthly due in order to pay for repairs in the future. It seems pretty fool proof, but who knows. It will be interesting to see its progress. Either way Edmund will be leaving them, (sad for them, great for Spark) and joining/creating the Spark team in Mbale. He already has a wife and child living in Mbale, and the expat who will help run the Uganda offices will be arriving in September. It’s definitely exciting to be part of this expansion process!

Lorries of Matooke pass the Nakivale settlement and yet people starve.

There were also a bundle of expat volunteers at the school working on building gardens, teaching craft classes, practicing English with the students (and learning some Luganda too), and even working on media for the school’s website. It was a great group of girls, and it’s a shame we won’t be closer when I get to Uganda. A few of them will also be back in the States by then.

When we arrived back in Kampala, I went to the visa office, and found the process took a bunch of additional steps. Not only did you need photo copies of all your passport visas, but also you needed extra pictures, a letter explaining why you wish to come stay here, and the form…couldn’t they just have a form? Haha! Nope, so I took all that he said back home and began by getting my picture taken, typing up a letter, then finding a printer, but his photo copier was broken, so then I had to find another place for that, which didn’t happen until this morning. Then, finally I got back to the offices this morning just to have him look things over, send me to the bank (a moto ride away) to pay the $100, and then bring back the receipt which then needed to be photocopied…it felt like endless ping-pong. Then, after getting back to the office where he said he would process the visa…He asked me to come back Friday and with a minute of panic I realized that really messed with plans! Not only could I not go back to Rwanda today- I was going to have to leave my passport at their offices until it could be completed…probably should have just gone to Kigali, but Sasha says they don’t have multi-entry visas there, so maybe this was the only option. I just hope that I can actually get it tomorrow morning. Leaving from Kigali on Friday to get to Bujumbura this weekend looking more and more difficult! Patience is definitely something that has to be critical here, and flexibility is the only way to get things done.

After the running about for the visa, Sasha and I met at Oasis near Garden City at Mokka Terrace- free wireless with your coffee! Can’t complain there, but the coffee is a bit more expensive, so it’s a good thing that I brought my debit card on this 3 day weekend gone 7…should have brought extra clothing though…you can only mix and match so much…then again, perhaps I should buy a shirt, they are really quite inexpensive. Then, the two of us moseyed toward the taxi park to eat at a restaurant that literally only served soda, chicken, and chips (fries)! The catch with the bad food was that the terrace overlooks the entirety of old taxi park. Which around 7 o’clock is a fascinating view! We stayed there for a while meeting up with one of Uganda’s first Spark facilitators. He is working to build a school and has helped the mothers of the village to acquire land, build the structures, and find teachers. They have done so much! They are working to be formally accredited in order to draw better teachers and additional students, but right now they teach pre-k through primary 5 (or the equivalent of 5^th grade in the US). They have run into the problem of students being unable to pay school fees and are looking at ways that mothers can bring foodstuffs to the school as payments. While this will require the school to have a seller, it should be an interesting and maybe a very effective way to help the children stay in school. They will be using the school as a multi-purpose facility though during after hours, which is pretty unique here. It will have courses for mothers on nutrition, business, and budgeting, farming techniques and even may host health clinics for HIV testing, etc. The project seems like it is taking significant time, but patience allows things to move- even if snails seem to move faster.

It really was a jam-packed day, because even then we were not done for the night. We went to a bar called MishMash. The bar has a dual functionality as an art gallery as well and is very modern, classy and relatively pricy. The wine was good though, and the company even better! We met up with Andy, one of Spark’s biggest supporters, and some of his other colleagues here in Uganda. One pair of guests were working on washable feminine products in order to make them affordable to even the poorest of girls. Many girls drop-out of school because of their periods, and those who don’t often miss significant amounts of class that means they face a lot of ridicule upon their return. Another worked on health products and was also an Emory ALUMNI! It was exciting to find another Emory connection, because there are so few of us in East Africa, and the association is not particularly proactive about linking people up in the less obvious cities (they are fabulous in ATL, DC and NYC, but there are alumni everywhere, so run into one is always exciting!). It was a wonderful evening, and so nice to meet such wonderful people who had been here so long!