My first hour in the country was really frustrating. I had some luggage issues right upon entering the country. I spent an hour or so in the airport waiting to enter the country with my bag, and when I finally got through customs (a bunch of people standing around at stations, not actually checking anyone) I went to the office of British Airways in the airport (I had to go there and I couldn't go to the more convenient offices in Kampala), but the agents had left to see a flight off and there was already a line. Since my group had been waiting over an hour for me to emerge from the airport, I just left and took the 45-minute van ride into Kampala, returning a few hours later to the airport to finally get some reimbursement. So my first day was a lot of riding in a rickety old van to an from the airport a few times on dusty, bumpy roads. The views were nice and I saw Lake Victoria quite a few times that day.
As a group, we are 29, so there are lots of people I'm getting to know from all over the US. There are some students with our group who were going to Kenya but they switched. The Kenyan program, which dwindled down to 14 people or so, is based in Uganda this year so that's even more muzungus that are invading Kampala. We have two academic directors, Charlotte and Martha, as well as a support staff including Miriam (the assistant), Muna (the driver, protector who will come to our homes and get us if evacuation is needed), Josef, and some more who I see sometimes but don't know the names of yet.
We spent the first week in orientation mostly in Kampala. We did all the talks on health, safety and security, academics, a crash course in Luganda, what we aren't allowed to do, and all that fun stuff. We had drop-offs and my partner, Steve, and I went to the new taxi park and the bus park after I got us pretty lost. We got to see Old Kampala and some other run-down areas in the city before figuring out where we were and entering the chaos that is transportation parks in Kampala. I now use the Old Taxi park everyday so I'm slowly getting used to it and understanding the chaos a little (but only a little). It was an insightful dropoff though. I learned my way from the center of town to Makerere University and around. Also, I got a little more used to crossing the perilous streets of Kampala.
Now for a description of the bus park and taxi parks. The bus park isn't too big. People only take buses for longer-distance travel. The money collectors all asked us two white people where we were going and would have helped us find a bus if we needed it. It wasn't too chaotic here, but I don't understand how a bus actually makes it out of the lot becuase there is a constant, unending stream of traffic outside the entrance from the taxis entering and exiting the park. All three areas are in close proximity to one another, which does not help ease traffic in the area. The taxi parks are absolute chaos. There are signs that have destinations for the taxis but there is usually one name on them so if you don't really know where you are going, you will have to ask. People are pretty good with telling you where to go, although they tell you directions even if they don't really know where you are asking to go. The taxis are parked every which way and drive through the pot-holed parking lot trying to make it out one of the two entrances. There are lots of stands and vendors on foot selling anything from underwear to lights to anyone who needs something. Of course there are lots of food vendors as well, selling food to those who are preparing for a long hour-long ride to travel 8 miles or so (like me). People also try to bring chickens with them in the vans and in one case, I watched as one guy dumped a woman's chickens into the trunk of the van, which doesn't really exist as a trunk and is actually the space below the last row of seats. The chickens were thus free to roam around the bottom of the van. Also, everyone is shouting muzungu, muzungu at any white people they see (and I am usually the only one in sight). It's also quite fun negotiating this after a good rainstorm where there is mud everywhere, in the potholes, being kicked up by mobutus' wheels. It's just chaos. That's really my concluding point.
Let me tell you about traffic in Uganda. There are no rules. Cars drive in whatever lanes they want and sometimes even on whichever side of the street they want. Sometimes cars and often boda bodas (motorcycle taxis) drive on the sidewalks. There are always traffic jams that clog the streets for minutes or hours. The main method of transport by people who don't want to die riding on a motorcycle (we are forbidden from riding on boda bodas) are mobutus, which are vans that are supposed to fit 13 people and the driver and collector but often cram between 15 and 17 people in, not including babies and small children. The quarters are quite cramped and the drivers are often reckless and just plain bad, but it's the only method of transportation to help you get from point A to point B within the city and the surrounding areas. There are some zebra crossings (crosswalks-I looked for zebras on the first day but there are none in the city) but drivers don't care. It's difficult to cross streets, especially when you're an American who is used to looking certain ways becuase here they drive on the opposite sides of the street. Regardless, you have to look both ways several times becuase there could be a rogue bicycle or boda boda coming from the wrong direction. It's also annoying walking the streets becuase there are always people staring (not surprising, there aren't many muzungus here-it's strange being the minority). There are also lots of people begging for money, including lots of children. Some of the children are put on the street by their parents, but others are from Northern Uganda where they are made to walk long distances to escape rebels during the night. Many of them walked very long distances across much of the country to reach Kampala, where they find relative safety. They are as young as 2 or so and as old as teenagers. For more information, check out www.invisiblechildren.com. There are also people on the streets with open wounds, amputations, and clear signs of malnutrition all asking for money. It's hard to walk right by them, but it is also impossible to give them all something useful.
The place where we stayed the first week, Hotel Jeliza, was pretty nice. We had two beds with mosquito nets, a tv, and a full bathroom with a warm shower. However, my roommate and I had a door from our room to another room with a nail through it and we kept hearing a tv on pretty much all the time from that room. I thought that there might have been a secret room, but it just turns out that there was someone staying in the room next to ours and they just like to watch a lot of tv (which I have found my host family likes to do as well).
We have eaten some good meals (cheese naan) and some interesting meals (cow stomach and intestine, yum!) There is an Indian influence in some of the food here that I am enjoying. The main foods we have been eating are matooke, rice, potatoes (looking a bit like Ecuador now, right), posho (cornmeal of some sort), and fruit. We ate one lunch at an Ethiopian restaurant, which was really good. I ate everything with my hands, which is quite common here. I also ate at a pork and beer joint, Hakuna Matata, with a small group, which was pretty good. The interesting part of this evening was getting to the restaurant, which involved walking through hoards of people to the taxi park and then taking a taxi for the first time (which wasn't bad because we were with someone who knew his way around and what taxi to ask for). For lunch pretty much everyday during the week I eat on campus at various canteens and eating areas, at which I eat omelettes, folders (chipati? with egg and vegetables), matooke (unripe bananas mashed up and steamed for a long time), beans, etc.
Side-note: It’s interesting the way the dam is set up. The British colonialists originally colonized Uganda and Sudan mainly to control the Nile so that they could control the very important colony, Egypt. Egypt now controls the dam and stipulates how much electricity Uganda is allowed to keep from it. Apparently a person can only become president here if Egypt supports him (though that’s not a problem because Museveni has been in power for 22 years now). Also, it takes about 3 months for water to flow the complete length of the Nile.
Music-wise, I’ve been hearing a really random mix of stuff. I have heard a lot of Enrique Iglesias, as well as another Latin Pop song I like that I have on a mix, which is on the top ten or something like that. I also heard the very random mix of bad American music with songs from Westlife (remember them?), Nsync, Madonna, Dolly Parton, Shaggy, Vanesa Carlton, etc. TV is another interesting thing here. My family watches a Spanish soap opera (dubbed in English) entitles “Nunca te diré adios” which looks pretty bad but when I’m really missing my telenovelas, maybe I’ll start watching it (though it’s on when I go to bed). There are also other Spanish shows including children’s cartoons (which are surprisingly quite frank about sex) and even American Idol (though they only showed the part of the show with really bad singers). It’s a little sad that I can’t even escape that here. There was a news special on immersion baptism with background music by Josh Groban (You Raise Me Up), so they even combine the two.
I’ve already seen some wildlife, though not a whole lot. I saw a monkey in a tree right outside of the airport on the first day and since then I saw some more in a forest while we drove by. I also see Marabou storks everywhere which are these huge, ugly birds that nest in the trees on campus and on the street. They smell bad and like to pick through the trash. I am really excited to see elephants, which I will hopefully see when we go to Queen Elizabeth National Park in a month. I also hear bats fluttering outside my window every night. I hope they eat all of the malarial mosquitoes. I am seeing less of the cockroaches so I think maybe the two days of heavy rain might have scared them out of the latrine.
People are always staring and always screaming muzungu when I walk by. The taxi drivers always assume that I want a taxi and sometimes they yell at me form the other side of the street, though I am going in the opposite direction. I also hear them say things in Luganda with the word muzungu thrown in, and I know that they’re talking about me but I don’t know what they are saying (kind of like during my ISP in Ecuador with Quechua). My family does this as well. I have also had lots of comments about how some guy would make a good boyfriend and that I should take him home, which is kind of awkward.
I moved in with my host family about a week ago. We all went to this fancy, muzungu hotel where we were led to our families in pairs. There was a fellow muzungu there watching who didn’t have any clue what was going on during this process. I wonder what he thought was happening. When I first met her, my host mother kept saying “You’re welcome. We love you,” so it was a little intense. I am living in a suburb of Kampala about eight miles away from the city’s center in what I think of as a slum area. There is a main road that goes up to this area of town, known as Kagoma, but the roads around the houses are all dirt (or mud) roads. There are lots of houses pretty much on top of each other. It is clearly a poor area of Kampala and most people live in very small houses. There are some small tin shacks where families live in one room. It’s quite a noisy area with babies and children making noise at all hours and roosters that crow whenever they want to. There are chickens that wander around everywhere and trash strewn about in ditches and on the path. We live in a concrete house with three bedrooms, a small indoor kitchen, a storage area, a room with a drain in it for a bathing room, and a living area room with a small tv and stereo (and mice). Outside we have the pit-latrine (small hole in the ground) that acts as my bathroom facilities (with lovely cockroaches inhabiting the ceiling), as well as another kitchen area which my family uses more than the one inside. We have no running water and I have no idea where the water we use is coming from.
My family consists of a mother, a father, two brothers (one younger (19), one older(25)) and two sisters (also one younger (17) and one older(not sure)). I haven’t met my older sister yet and I’m not sure if I will. My younger brother left for boarding school the day after I arrived so I didn’t get to know him very well and my younger sister may soon leave for school. I don’t know what my older brother does, but he is around the house whenever I’m around. My dad is an accountant for a market and my mother is a housewife. Everyone is really friendly and does what they can to make me comfortable (I get toilet paper to use when everyone else uses strips of newspaper and they heat my water to bathe in). I don’t spend a whole lot of time at home because I leave early and get back late from classes, but they help me with Luganda homework and we chat a little bit. I was upset at first about the living conditions (I really wanted a toilet) but I have gotten used to them in the past week and I am sure I will have lots of great stories to tell when I get home. My parents now joke that I will be ready to live with the Amish and that I should live with them for a month when I get home to adjust back to American life. But we do have power and the power hasn’t gone out yet (unlike in other areas). The sad thing is that no one lives close to me and I have to catch a taxi from the taxi part to get home each day, which is a small hassle. Also, although my family is what I consider a poor family, my sister makes fun of the people who live in worse conditions and talks about how bad they smell. After a few days I noticed that everyone in the family except my mother bows to my father. I haven’t yet (and I don’t know if I should) but I feel a little awkward now not bowing. Also, my younger host cousin was bowing to everyone except for me, so I’m thinking I might be exempt from the bowing. I also don’t have to take my sandals off when entering the house from the pit latrine. Also, every time I go to do homework or study, my host dad claims that I’m “advising my books,” which I think is kind of cute.
I get so dirty here. I shower every day (which people do) but no matter how much I scrub, I am still so dirty. When I dry off, there is so much dirt on the towel. I think it’s mostly because the roads are so dusty or muddy, depending on whether or not there has been rain. My feet also get really dirty because I wear sandals everywhere. I have stepped in some pretty gross stuff (mainly mud so far, but there is lots of other stuff all over the place). My fingernails, though I cut them yesterday and clean them at least twice a day, are always dirty. My hands always have dirt ingrained into the knuckles. My clothes also get really dirty really easily and I made the mistake of bringing white clothing with me, which really shows the dust. I have to iron my clothes (often with the help of my host brother and/or mother) everyday so that I look “smart,” though I don’t know why there is such an emphasis on looking smart because you just get mussed up so quickly and easily.
I’m a little frustrated with how quickly we have to find a topic for a practicum. I am debating between continuing with traditional medicine and the public health system or doing something completely different, like the role of foreign aid in
Most of the cars here are second hand. They sell a lot of secondhand clothes here as well. If you are interested, there is a really good documentary on the trade in secondhand clothing in another African country (Zimbabwe I think) entitled T-Shirt Travels.
The condition in Kenya is on everyone’s minds here. Ugandans worry that something similar could happen when it comes time for the next elections here. There isn’t really ethnic violence here, but there is ethnic tension (thanks in part to the British during colonization). However, the situation in Kenya is getting worse everyday and refugees are flocking here (as Uganda is known as welcoming to refugees, from Rwanda, Congo, Sudan, etc.). The gas prices here are also going up, as may other prices because much of Uganda’s trade comes through Kenya because the nation is land-locked. Miriam, the assistant to the ADs, told me that they worry that Kenya may become the next Rwanda.
A day in my life:
More taxi stuff: One of the taxis I was in almost tipped over once on one of the bumpy side streets. Another one almost hit a boda boda with driver and passenger. Another one broke down and had to roll into a gas station to work (and they kept the engine running while the attendant filled up the tank). Also, one time in the taxi I heard someone whistling the Latin pop song I really like and another day, a drunk woman sat next to me, trying to sleep in the moving vehicle and constantly leaning on me. I will write a full account of a taxi experience when I have more time. I have to say it is the most inspiring, terrifying, awkward part of my day. I also plan to give a full account of the senses of a typical day, because it is quite different.
Yesterday was interesting. A man came and robbed a house for the third time and the residents of the area came out with bricks and other weapons to try him by mob justice. They passed right in front of the house and I heard a brick hit the tin roof (which sounded like fireworks or something like that). However, the thief escaped, again. Also yesterday, my taxi stopped for a while by a truck with long-horned cattle. They were crammed into this small truck and a bunch of them were trying to escape. One of the hands was stepping on their heads and horns while tying them more firmly to the truck. They looked so sad. I can’t wait to be a vegetarian again. Also lately, I have seen a lot more cows walking along or in the roads. Also along the roads are lots of goats, some of them tied up and others not, possibly not belonging to anyone.
Luganda is quite a common language here. Most people speak at least a little English but a lot of them commonly speak Luganda in the house with family and friends. A lot of the taxi guys mainly speak Luganda (all they can say in English is I love you and Take me home with you) so it’s a little bit of a challenge when I need to get into and out of the taxi.
Ok. So ends the very random mixture of my thoughts and situation here. I will post again sometime, not sure how soon.
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