Off to Africa

A New Post, At Last...

2011-10-11T02:14:00.000-07:00

A long time…

It’s been a long time between blog entries. A long, hard time. My great-nephew Rich died in Afghanistan at the end of May, and my family’s world is horribly altered. There are many days when I question why I am here. Maybe my family needs me more than Uganda does. It was difficult to leave them after my two weeks in the States. Why did I come back? Really because when I questioned returning to Africa my sister grabbed me by the shoulders and said “Go back. Do good work. Our family commits and we follow through.”

So here I am, committed and following through. There are some bright spots, like completing secondary school management workshops for 30 schools. This was a collaboration with a Dutch school principal. The topics: leadership, team effectiveness, creating a management plan, financial management and income-generating activities. We plan to reach as many as 80 additional schools over the coming year.

I’m also delivering workshops on sexual/reproductive health and menstruation management at primary and secondary schools. Menstruation is a big issue for girls in rural Uganda – they get very little information about what’s happening to their bodies and disposable pads are far too expensive for them to use. It’s a cause of absenteeism and contributes to a high drop-out rate. So, we are teaching them how to make re-usable pads, and providing kits with the necessary materials. The best part is that I am working with a wonderful Ugandan woman, Betty, on this project. She is passionate, articulate, and motivated – so I know that this work will continue long after I’ve returned to the USA.

Neither of these things is exactly what I expected to be doing. As an economic development volunteer I didn’t foresee being placed in an organization focused on education quality improvement. It took awhile to define projects that I felt made a contribution and used my skills, but I am happy with these and feel like I may be doing some good. The help I provide in proposal and report writing, project planning, and budgeting is also, I hope, helping to build some capacity at CEREDO.

I’ve learned a lot. Had good and bad experiences. Seen positive and negative effects of donor aid. Met inspiring people. Have loved and hated Uganda and Ugandans. And I’m really glad that I am doing this despite enthusiasm that waxes and wanes - with homesickness, but also with frustration about “the way things are”. There is no money at my organization. The previous funding year ended June 30, but the major donor organization is changing and new funding won’t be released until November. Not only that, it will be significantly less. I think the knowledge that this was coming has been there for some time, but the planning for it has been haphazard. The staff has not been paid for three months. The second truck has broken down. Lunch is no longer served in the office. Internet is no longer available. In the meantime, the staff continues coming the office and working as hard as ever. My admiration for their commitment is strong, and it keeps me going.

Many days the enormity of the problems facing the education system is overwhelming, and my own small efforts feel inconsequential. Too many children, schools in poor condition, no books, no laboratory equipment, no lunch, teacher and student absenteeism, rote instruction, corruption, ineffective government… I have to keep reminding myself that making a difference in the life of just one child is reason enough to go on tilting at the windmills.

South Africa

A trip to South Africa, and the regional Peace Corps Medical Office in Pretoria, was dictated by discovery of a tiny basal cell skin cancer on my forehead. It was first removed in Kampala, but the lab work showed specimen margins not as “clean” as desired. Any volunteer that has a problem that cannot be handled in the host country gets “med-evac’d” to regional. The work on my forehead was deemed suitable for a plastic surgeon, and there are few of those in Uganda (maybe even only one!).

The trip was 9 days. Another world. White sheets, my own bathroom with hot shower, tasty breakfasts, an oven and complete kitchen, washing machine and dryer, pedicure, hair cut and color, real ice cream (every day), real supermarkets, highways, sushi, Thai restaurants, wine, lettuce, and other treats. Also very strange - as if it was two countries, one first world, one third world. The first world has everything, but the everything exists behind walls, electric fences, razor wire, and security guards. I felt the ghosts of apartheid.

I also felt lion cubs! With the other “walking wounded” (all PCVs staying at The Rose Guesthouse while recuperating from broken bones, infections, and surgeries) I travelled to a lion sanctuary about 1 ½ hours from Pretoria. White (not albino) lions have all but disappeared in the wild. The sanctuary has a program to breed them. Feeding and playing with the three week-old cubs was amazing. They are curious, playful, and sweet. By nine weeks they are already too old to play with humans, as by then they have very sharp claws and are quite strong. Still impossibly cute, but beginning to be dangerous.

The revision was successful, the skin cancer is gone, and I was promptly sent back to Uganda. Not all of the other PCVs were as lucky. Jon, from Kenya, is recovering from a shoulder broken in a boat taxi collision, but cannot return to his site in Kenya because of the recent activity by Somali pirates. All American government employees, including Peace Corps volunteers, have been evacuated from northeastern Kenya. Jon is on his way back to New York. Justine, from Malawi, is back in the states now for skin grafts and additional surgery for the multiple fractures in her foot. Seth and Rebekah, however, have returned to Ethiopia and Madagascar, respectively. The real highlight of South Africa was getting to know these PCVs from other countries, and to talk together about the challenges we face and the joys and frustrations of Peace Corps Service.

My own return to Uganda was a bit more difficult than expected.

It all began with a craving for good bread

Let’s start by describing Ugandan bread. Typical Ugandan bread is not delicious. Think stale Wonder Bread. For brown bread, think stale Wonder Bread with food coloring. In Kampala there is one bakery called Brood (Dutch for bread) that makes excellent multigrain bread and croissants, baguettes and other goodies. At least one trip to Brood is on the agenda for every trip to the capital.

Following my return from South Africa and before leaving Kampala on the 7am bus for Soroti, my plan was to stop at Brood for bread. I went there, but they had not opened at their advertised 6am. (And why did this surprise me? This is Uganda, after all. Time is an entirely different construct.) I waited for a few minutes, but there was no sign of an imminent opening. There was however, a lurking boda (motorcycle) driver who rode up on the sidewalk, flew by, and snatched my purse.

Now, I’m sure that boda-boda man was seeing dollar signs in his daydreams as he speed away. I would have loved to be there and see his face when he realized that the small purse contained only a comb, pen, tissues, travel medication box, a copy of my medical report from South Africa, Peace Corps ID and a cheap phone. Only the phone created a problem, but one that was resolved quickly. Lesson number one: the streets of Kampala are not safe, even at daybreak on a Sunday. Lesson number two: a decoy bag works!

The thief didn’t get much, and this could have happened in any city in the world, but the incident just added to the shock of “re-entry”. And I didn’t get my bread. I was a very grouchy person on Sunday, October 2!

Readjustment

As always, the return to Uganda requires adjustment. Adjusting from the beautiful room at The Rose to the shabby single at Kampala’s New City Annex. Adjusting from food variety to restricted choices. Adjusting from super highways to Ugandan public transport.

After the purse snatching and nine hours of bus travel, I arrived in Soroti in bad humor. Then – slowly, slowly – I begin moving back into the flow of Soroti. Familiar people. Neighbors. Friends. My little house. My turf. The mood lifted.

However, there were still more adjustments. I now own a bicycle. And I have learned how to negotiate roads full of potholes, puddles, and bumps. (All while wearing a skirt, by the way. That, my friends, qualifies as a skill.) During the two weeks I was away Soroti experienced heavy rains. With every storm, the pattern of potholes, puddles, and bumps changes. Over a couple of weeks the changes are substantial. The result is a need to re-learn the bicycle routes to the office and to town. It’s always important to know where you need to position yourself on the road for the driest and smoothest ride. You must learn “the line”.

Then there was the adjustment to on again/off again electrical power. The power outages the first week back were:

8pm Sunday to 5am Monday

5pm to 6pm Monday

7pm Tuesday to 4am Wednesday

12:30am to 10am Thursday

6:15pm to Midnight Thursday

7pm Saturday to sometime Sunday morning.

Some outages are breakdowns or repairs. But the regular (sort of), every other day evening outages are part of a rolling blackout. The power companies say that the government owes them a lot of money. The government says that the privatization of the electric utility has not resulted in promised cost reductions, has refused to pay the bills, and has an investigation underway. ( Launching an investigation, by the way, appears to be a common method of issue avoidance by this government. ) Meanwhile, the citizens of Uganda are dealing with rolling blackouts that the companies claim are required because they cannot afford to generate enough electricity when the government isn’t paying their bills . And the citizens are not mad as hell. I’m waiting for them to say that they are “mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore”. But they don’t.

Independence Day

October 9 celebrated Uganda’s independence from Great Britain. That occurred in 1962. In the years since, Uganda has suffered civil war and Idi Amin. Museveni and the NRE assumed power in 1985, and they have been in power since. This government made some big accomplishments in the past, like immunization programs and universal education. Today it feels as though progress has slowed. Perhaps those in power now see retaining power, not development, as the primary goal. And the people are not “rising up” because they prize the stability (i.e. absence of civil war) that years of NRM rule have provided. Peace at any cost.

The cost seems high, though. A strain of passivity and resignation runs through the society. Daily life for most is a struggle, perhaps they just have no time to be angry. There is also fear, both of instability and of retribution. Some of the passivity is also fueled by the donor culture. The huge amounts of foreign aid, by both government and private sources (especially churches), accomplish some good, but have also fostered in some the expectation that “someone will give it to me”. Hardly a day passes that I don’t get a request for a handout, from children’s requests that I give them money or buy them a soda, to requests by mere acquaintances that I pay school fees for themselves or their children.

Paraphrasing my friend Chelsea, Uganda will not be truly independent until they escape the donor trap, get rid of the “kleptocrats”, and empower themselves to change. Meanwhile, hats off to the many Ugandans who struggle every day to feed and educate their children, and to those who choose “development” as their passion and not just a paycheck.

Closing with an Inspiration

Because some of this post has a negative tone, I’ll close with a story that inspires hope.

I was invited to join a colleague at the graduation party for a young woman from a village in Serere. It was a long drive to the truly remote settlement. On the way, we picked up the guest of honor. She was a recent nursing school graduate, and the first woman from her village to go beyond secondary school. About a kilometer from our destination we were greeted by a crowd of women; singing, dancing, waving flags, and throwing flowers in greeting. The parade accompanied us all the way to the village!

The entire village was assembled for the event. It was clear that her family was very proud of her accomplishment, and the community was proud too. This may not seem remarkable to you, but when you understand that many villagers put a low value on educating their daughters, then you find it so. There was a mass, with lovely traditional music and singing, and the obligatory speeches. The father of the graduate, a most dignified and humble man, told his audience to educate their girl children. The priest in his sermon did the same. I was watching the girls and young women in the congregation. They were beaming. And their parents were nodding their heads.

This is the way real change will happen. One child, one family, one village at a time.

Don't Hang Your Knickers on the Line

2011-05-22T04:28:00.000-07:00

Don’t Hang Your Knickers on the Line, and other Housekeeping Tales

Panties

I’m rescued from the drudgery of hand washing most of my clothes because I hire help. But the help doesn’t touch my underpants. There is a strong prohibition in Ugandan culture against having another person wash your panties. Those underpants also cannot be hung to dry outside where (gasp!) someone might see them. Bras on the line are OK, but NEVER those panties.

So, somewhere in your home there must be a panty drying station. Special racks, circular with clothespins attached, are popular. Women hang them in the bathing room. That is, if the bathing room is inside the house. My special place is a clothesline in the spare bedroom. The curtain for the bedroom window stays closed, of course, so that none of my neighbors risks the visual assault of Body by Victoria.

Why is this? For the same reason that massive cleavage is acceptable, but your skirt must cover your knees. Different cultures, different attitudes about body parts.

Bat Encounters of the Third Kind

Returning home after dinner one evening, I heard noises coming from the rear of the house, and then detected an unidentified flying object crashing about in the bathroom. Promptly stepping outside and closing the door to the house, I ran to the neighbors. “Help, there’s something flying around in my house”. Brave Aloysius confronted the creature and bludgeoned it with my broom. That was bat number one.

Another evening, another dinner out. Returning this time with three houseguests. Open the door, turn on the light, and there in the hall leading from the sitting room to the kitchen sits a creature. Not flying, but crawling slowly toward us. Is it a toad? No. Bat number two. Brave Bryan pushed it across the floor with the broom, and out the door.

Bat number three. This time I’m alone, reading by headlamp in my bed. There’s a rustling noise in the corner. I ignore it. It starts again. Climbing out of my mosquito net and turning on the bedroom light, I anxiously scan the room. And there it is, creeping along the floor. No house guest to rescue me, and it’s too late to run next door. Linda has to take care of this one herself. OK – to the kitchen to grab a bucket and the broom. The bucket for trapping the little bugger and the broom for self defense. I return to the bedroom. The bat has disappeared. I look high and low, everywhere, at least four times. Still no bat. Gotta get back to sleep, I have an early morning bus to catch. I leave the light on, get back in bed, and tuck the mosquito net in extra tight. No bats in my bed, sister. Spent the rest of the night sleeping, fitfully. In the morning, the search for the critter resumes. It doesn’t take long. There he sits in the middle of the kitchen. Ever so quietly I fetch the bucket, tip toe into the kitchen, and bam! Down goes the bucket. I have just trapped my first bat. Look at me folks! I just trapped a bat. Then, slowly, slowly, the bucket is pushed toward the door, the door is opened, and with a good push the bucket shovels the little sucker into the backyard. Brave me!

Trash

So, where exactly do you throw a dead bat? Or trash? Or garbage? Or paper, plastic and glass? There is no trash collection in Uganda. No garbage disposal. No recycling bin. When I stayed with a family during training, their trash went to a pile in the backyard that was forever burning. Here in Eastern Uganda, you dig a pit in the yard. Everything goes into the pit, it is burned to reduce its volume from time to time, and the pit is covered with dirt when it gets full. Then you dig a new pit.

One reason that that the yard doesn’t become a giant landfill is because people don’t generate trash the way we do in the USA. Most food comes from the market, with no packaging. Not much else is consumed. There are no paper towels. No Kleenex. “Modern” life is catching up though – for example, storm drains in Kampala are often clogged with thousands of plastic water bottles. The streets of most towns are littered with discarded bottles, wrappers, plastic bags and other assorted trash. (Somehow, Soroti is not.)

In my home, the garbage disposal is a bucket. If I were ambitious, I would be composting, but I’m not. The bucket is all about a) bug control and b) a place to scrape plates so that the sink doesn’t clog. I miss paper towels, but have found 101 uses for toilet paper. Rolls of toilet paper are my paper towels (to help scrape those plates), Kleenex, and, well, toilet paper. Other trash goes in a plastic bag left over from my weekly marketing. Recyclables are another story. I am conditioned so that I can’t just throw them in the pit. Plastic bottles are easy (and I don’t buy many) – a Peace Corps friend is attempting to construct a building from them. Beer bottles go back to the store for return of the deposit. Wine bottles and miscellaneous cans, however, are accumulating in the box that my refrigerator came in. I wonder just what I think I’m going to do with them. I’ll probably leave them behind, and the next resident of my house will surmise that the crazy muzungu had a drinking problem.

Slashing

Slashing. It’s not a genre of horror film. It’s how Ugandans cut the grass. Slashing is performed by hand, with a machete-like blade. Swinging back and forth, it produces a distinctive sound – a sound that sometimes wakes me in the morning. (Slashing is hard work, best done in the early morning or in the evening.) Nice accompaniment to the roosters. Swish, swish, cock-a-doodle-, wish, doo…

A few enterprising Ugandans have made a business of slashing compounds - usually at businesses, government offices or NGOs - with an updated technology. The weed whacker. Yes, the entire yard is mowed with a weed whacker. One of the most annoying sounds in the universe. Consider that the day they whack the CEREDO compound we get to hear it… all… day… long.

Other Yardwork

My house is a cement rectangle, surrounded by a concrete “veranda” three feet wide and about 6 inches off the ground. Beyond the veranda there is bare dirt, 10 feet deep, all round. The dirt is compacted and hard, except after a good rain. Weeds and grass like to take hold, but the dirt MUST be kept clear of vegetation. Every Ugandan home, mud hut or concrete, has this dirt “border”. People not only weed it, they also sweep it. You can imagine my surprise the first time I saw someone sweeping the dirt. It may be dirt, but it’s clean dirt! I think there is a practical purpose to it – bare dirt is not hospitable to snakes, toads, rats and other critters. I’ll sweep anything if it means none of those guys in my house. Bats, geckos, spiders, and the occasional cockroach are more than enough excitement.

Holidays, A Baptism, Elections and a Visitor

2011-03-14T07:15:00.001-07:00

"The Festive Season"

Christmas in the tropics? If not for the Christmas music on the radio and a few decorations in town, I would not have known that it was the season. The decorations are garish and tinseled, from China. There are Christmas trees (artificial), in hotels and in a few homes, and most of them are at least a little pathetic. Not the first time that I’ve observed Western customs adopted in their tackiest form. All of the pop music ever written for the holidays, but not much in the way of carols, was a constant. Even "I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas". That became a joke between me and the folks in my office. Each time it played, I was asked if I was "Dreaming of a Black Christmas."

Although the forces of commerce are trying hard, the idea of gift exchange just hasn’t taken hold. Christmas is about joining the family in the village and enjoying a Christmas feast. That feast, of course, is not much different than everyday fare. You might be more likely to have a chicken in the pot, but that’s about it. It’s also about going to church, and having new clothes to wear to the service. There are rumors that the lack of new Christmas clothes has been cause for divorce.

There are Ugandan Santas, in the familiar red suits and fake white beards. They are not, however, fat. Each Santa I saw was tall and very thin, with pants at least 6 inches too short. The black boots were usually missing from the costume, replaced by athletic shoes and, by one creative gentleman, with black dress shoes adorned in cotton balls.

My own holidays included a Christmas Eve bus ride to Kampala (all 8 hours of it), and celebrating with friends Shelley and Mari at the home of the Peace Corps’ program and training officer, Jan. We had hoped to have more of the "over 50" crowd with us, but were limited by travel restrictions and other complications. To bypass the Kampala taxi and bus parks we all exited our buses outside of the city proper and took private hires to Jan’s home. (More on travel restrictions later). It was a joy to cook in a real kitchen, revel in unlimited hot showers, and use a washing machine. (Persistent hand washing Ugandan-style leaves your clothing stiff and stained. In two days I washed one T-shirt four times before it was back to normal!).

The day after Christmas, Mari, Shelley and I departed for Jinja and a delightful little hotel called 2 Friends. For four days and nights we were "normal" Americans (not PCVs) on vacation – enjoying more hot water, a lovely pool, shopping, good talk, and reading. Not to mention a few decent glasses of wine. I returned to Soroti on New Year’s Eve Day, and must confess that the little house I had begun to find comfortable felt suddenly shabby and primitive. My New Year’s Eve was spent quietly at home. The neighbors were planning to attend a prayer service, and I passed on the invitation to join.

On New Year’s Day I traveled with my friend Charles to his village. His village is not where he lives, but where he was raised and where his family meets to celebrate the holidays. This concept of "my village" is an important one. You may never live there again, but there you will celebrate the "festive season", and it is where you will meet for funerals and be buried yourself when you die.

The New Year’s Day celebration was a gathering of relatives for talk and a meal. It was a bit awkward – there was a definite separation of the sexes, but as Charles’ guest I was served dinner with the men, and

seated with them for conversation later. To interact with the women I had to assert myself, and just go over and sit with them on their mats. Another custom that is awkward for me involves greetings – in more traditional settings like the village, girls and younger women will kneel to greet me. Older women may also do so, but will always kneel to adult men. I also experienced the "in-law taboo" in the village. Our host, Charles’ uncle, did not eat at the table with the rest of the men because his son-in-law was one of the guests. Apparently in-laws do not eat or sit in the same room together, even at family celebrations. (Are you wondering, like me, if this ultimately leads to more harmonious relations? For certain, there are no in-law jokes in this culture).

The evening ended with warm beers, and Ugandan Sherry. Warm soda is the alternative available for the warm beer. Obviously, there is no refrigeration in the village, so you drink it warm or not at all. At the top of my list for "You know you’ve been in Uganda for awhile when…" is "when you drink warm beer". There are photos from this day posted on Facebook.

After New Year’s Day, the holiday season was not over. For one thing, the Christmas music seemed to play until February. Then, the office was closed From December 18 until January 11. It’s a good thing I had the trip to Jinja planned, otherwise the boredom would have been unbearable. In its infinite wisdom, the Peace Corps demands that we take PTO if we leave our sites, even if our office is closed. The thought is that we should be integrating with our communities. Of course, all of my community was off to their villages, so Soroti was quite deserted and I was quite alone. The house got very clean, I finally got curtains made, and read a lot of books.

A Baptism

People are having a lot of babies in Uganda. At least 50% of the population is under 15, and the average number of children a woman will bear in her lifetime is six or seven. This is actually a big improvement from a few years ago when the average was eleven! One wonders when the education system will collapse under the weight of all of these children, and what their quality of life will be as they compete for opportunity and the basics – food and water. I could go on, and on, about Uganda’s population explosion, but I won’t. My intention was to talk about a baptism.

I attended the ceremony for the child of one of my colleagues – the ceremony for his child and 64 others! It was an assembly line. The parents and Godparents lined the church aisle on both sides, and the priest with assistants made several trips down the aisle on one side and up the other, performing each of the many steps in the rite. The baptism, then the celebration of mass following, lasted for three hours.

The next scheduled event was lunch. But before lunch I traveled around Soroti with Grandmother Betty, collecting various parts of a sound system, some rice, and a few other things. Arriving at the village two hours later (now about 3pm), it was clear that lunch would not be coming soon. One warm soda, some chitchat, and three more hours later we ate "lunch". After the meal came the warm beer, some music, a few speeches (fortunately few, by Ugandan standards), and the ajon.

Ajon is the home brew of the Teso region, made from millet. It is enjoyed in the Ajon circle – a circle of people seated around a shared pot and drinking the ajon through a long (about six feet long) straw. Ajon is not only for special occasions. There are regular ajon circles, run almost like a club (they have a chairman) and meeting daily or weekly. The ajon circle is important to the regional culture. It’s a regular meeting where cultural practice and history, as well as advice, is passed from generation to generation. And, a relaxed environment where community issues might be discussed. Although my experience with circles is limited, I’ve observed that both men and women participate (but more men) and that no one in the circle seems to get drunk.

After a few sips of ajon, it was time to go home. At 11pm. The day began with my 9:30am walk to the church, and my expectation had been that I would be home before dark! Though exhausted, at the end of the day I was elated. My welcome at the event was complete, and as I also do when I visit Charles’ village, I felt embraced by my Ugandan family.

The parents of the baptized child, by the way, are not married. Each of them has another child with a different partner. There is no stigma attached to having children without marriage, which can seem odd in a culture where the Christian religion plays such a prominent role in public and private life. One thought of mine is that the expense of a traditional marriage is high. The traditional marriage involves an Introduction ceremony and payment by the groom of a substantial dowry. Dowry is in the form of cattle, goats, rice and other foodstuffs, household goods, and clothing – and is sometimes referred to as "bride price". The Introduction may or may not be followed (weeks, months or years later) by a church wedding.

For some Ugandans, the importance of the church wedding is beginning to overshadow the traditions of Introduction, and divorces do occur, but in the villages tradition prevails. Bride price is considered by some to be a major social problem. If the bride finds herself in an abusive or otherwise unhappy marriage, she can return to her parents’ home, but the husband will expect repayment of the dowry. The consequence is women trapped in marriages characterized by violence, alcoholism, polygamy, etc. And, by law, children "belong" to the father. If the child is less than seven years old, they stay with the mother, but from seven onward they go to the father’s household.

The good news is that the bride price issue, along with the practice of polygamy, is off and on the subject of public debate. In the past year or two bills to abolish the practices have been introduced, but not passed, in parliament. Gender balance and women’s rights are very much in the government, business, education, and social services agendas.

Elections

February and early March was election season in Uganda. The first was the Presidential and Parliamentary selection, then for about three weeks following there was a different local or regional election each week. (With each considered a public holiday, my office was closed a lot!) Election season is noisy. Other than the posters glued to every available surface, the most common form of campaigning involves a truck, a PA system, loud music and a cruise around town. There are rallies, and the ruling NRM party in particular is fond of trucking in large groups of cheering supporters in the party’s

yellow t-shirts. Early in the campaign I attended a Museveni rally, and heard His Excellency speak. (My Facebook friends may recognize this as the occasion that I saw a Ugandan in a "Vote for Pedro" t-shirt.) Not an impressive orator. But the man does rap (yup, a 70-something politician in a funny hat putting down some rhymes). It’s rumored that now that the election is over, the President is working on an album.

Museveni has been in power since 1986. Until 2006 Uganda had a single party political system. Today there are several opposition parties, but the NRM still has more power, more money, and more votes than any other. Some say that the money bought many of those votes. Others complain that the electoral process is controlled by an Electoral Commission appointed by the President, hence biased. Charges of intimidation fly about – special police were trained and uniformed for the elections. ( I did see an increased armed forces presence in and around Soroti during that time.) The President was re-elected by a large margin. But, even though the outcome of the election was never really in doubt, the elections, the candidates, and the political parties were the subject of intense debate over the lunch table at work.

There was some concern that the opposition would dispute the Presidential election results and violence would follow. There was also a concern that terrorists would attempt to disrupt the election process. Neither of these things, fortunately, occurred. There were a few small-scale protests and riots, but none of any real consequence. Here in Soroti, the election days were eerily quiet.

For almost the entire month of February, Peace Corps Volunteers were not permitted to travel away from their local residence/work because of concerns of election violence and terrorist activity. That restriction has been lifted, but one big restriction remains. Kampala is off-limits. It has been since just before Christmas. The Kampala restriction is (and been) less about elections and more about crime and terrorism. No Kampala means: a) I can’t replace the camera I broke; b) I can’t get a haircut from someone who knows "muzungu" hair; c) I can’t restock a supply of whole grain pasta; d) there is no chance I can see a movie in a theater; e) I can’t get to the US Embassy to renew my personal passport (I’m traveling now on a Peace Corps passport); and f) I don’t have access to the Peace Corps office book exchange (that one could be the hardest to take, long term). Although I do understand why this precaution is necessary, it is frustrating as hell.

A Visitor

Marty was here! And Soroti will never be the same. For half of his three-week visit Marty explored Soroti. He met more people in ten days than I have in five months. Everywhere I go, there are people who ask after Marty. He has friends in the Mosque, at the "supermarket" (in quotes because it is more like a corner shop than a supermarket), in my office, at the dairy, and random other places about town. I’m sure that if I went to Trends disco, all of the men he danced with would ask for him too. (Remember, people in the disco don’t dance as couples, but usually in same sex groups.)

For the first half of his visit we travelled – to Queen Elizabeth Park, Kibale Forest (for Chimp tracking), and Murchison Falls. It was grand! The trip, as well as Marty’s love affair with Soroti, is well documented in photos posted to Facebook, on his page and copied to my profile too.

Next stop, Amsterdam – in July we think. A good place for us to meet without one of us travelling for 24 hours (or more)! Eli has his tickets to arrive August 27 and stay for two weeks , so I have two summer events to look forward to. Planning for and anticipating these visits makes the 27 month commitment to the Peace Corps less daunting. The eighth month is already half over, and I’ll see Marty in four months and Eli in about five. Before you know it, I’ll be halfway there. Come visit!

Life in Uganda: Food, Transport, Meetings, Entertainment & Used Clothing

2011-01-09T04:54:00.000-08:00

Food

Neither variety, nor spice, is life here. In Ugandan homes and at lunches here at the CEREDO office, the menu doesn’t change much. Starch – rice, matoke (mashed green banana), or posho (made with maize flour, the consistency of hard mashed potatoes) – served with a beef stew or beans is the typical main course for lunch and dinner. Locally, atap, millet flour cooked with a little hot water, is more common than matoke. It looks like brown pizza dough, with the same consistency. Chicken, fish, goat and pork are available, but rarely served. A vegetable, always cabbage or greens, accompanies. It will be in sauce, often groundnut (close relative of the peanut), and cooked to within an inch of its life. The greens are generally bitter.

We also get "breakfast" at the office. Tea and bread with Blue Band (the local margarine) or maize on the cob or bananas or samosas. The samosa is one of India’s contributions to Ugandan cuisine – deep fried phyllo-like pastry filled with either peas or beef. Another breakfast delicacy is a donut- like clump of sweet fried bread. Not a whole grain in sight! My own breakfast at home is American all the way: peanut butter sandwiches, eggs, or French toast.

Street food is good. There is the rolex - fried egg, cabbage and tomato rolled in a chapatti. For the uninitiated, a chapatti is a round fried bread, somewhere between a tortilla and pita. Rolex will never mean wristwatch to me again! My other favorite is fish and chips. Soroti is near Lake Kyoga, so there is fresh fish every day. The street vendors fry the fish whole and serve it with chips (French fries). Excellent, and cheap. The fish and chips are the equivalent of less than $2 US. A rolex, about 50 cents. I’m wondering where my cholesterol will be after two years of all of this wonderful fried stuff.

The food that I cook at home is better. I have olive oil. Tomatoes, onions and garlic are plentiful. With those ingredients, I can cook anything! For main courses I stick to beans, lentils, rice, pasta and eggs. Just found some soya mince, but my first attempt at soya burgers was a failure. I’ll try again. Indian spices are readily available, and so is chili sauce. A nice change from the generally spice-less fare elsewhere. In addition to tomatoes and onions, there are green peppers, cabbage, carrots, green beans, and cauliflower (but it’s expensive). Recently I found a non-bitter green that tastes almost like spinach. I’m very lucky to have this variety. Soroti is a good-sized town. My friends out in the villages are less fortunate – tomatoes, onions and cabbage are about it.

Forget about lettuce. It’s available in some cooler areas of the country, but definitely not here. I also don’t cook meat or chicken at home. I’d have to kill and clean the chicken, and the birds are so skinny and tough it’s not worth the effort. (Even if they were tasty I don’t think I’d care to decapitate a bird). The meat hangs in the open air market, and I lose my appetite for it quickly. Fish is a possibility, it comes to the market fresh every afternoon. I just don’t cook it because it is so good and so inexpensive prepared on the street.

Another advantage to town life is restaurants. Don’t get too excited. Not much variety there either. But, I can get a grilled cheese sandwich, hamburger, or a reasonable imitation of a pizza if I have to have it. The restaurants have cheese, obviously, which I cannot buy. (I would treasure cans of parmesan cheese if you sent them!) The local "pork joints" serve up delicious chunks of pork, with potatoes, tomatoes and cabbage on the side. And the Friday night muchomo platter (grilled beef, chicken, pork, and goat) at the Soroti Hotel is a winner.

Of course, you can’t consider food without wine. There’s not much of it. A few drinkable and affordable (on a Peace Corps volunteer living allowance) bottles from South Africa and Italy. I found one great buy – a Montepulciano. Unfortunately I’ve already consumed every bottle in town. No fear, it’s not that I’m drinking so much, it’s just that there were only a few bottles on the shelves.

Obviously, I’m well-fed. A little lettuce-deprived, cheese hungry, and missing whole grains, but well fed. And thankful for it. As dry season progresses, through February and into March, the villagers dependent on their subsistence farming will have real limits to their diets. Never, ever, ever take the abundance we experience in the West for granted. Not the abundance, nor the transportation systems that bring you food from around the globe. Speaking of transportation…
Transport

There are good roads and bad roads. Some are paved. You drive on the left (if you can… pothole avoidance requires movement all over the road). The road system is limited, so for example, to get from Soroti to Kampala I need to travel east 100 km to Mbale, then 230 km west to Kampala. Sometimes I am the passenger in a private vehicle or a private hire taxi, more often in a minibus taxi or bus.

CEREDO has a vehicle, an extended cab pickup. Even though it’s not unusual to carry 5 or 6 passengers in the seats for 4, travelling in the truck is a treat. Usually a private hire is also relative luxury. (But, consider that I have been in a 5 passenger hatchback Toyota that carried 8 adults, 3 children, luggage, two large sacks of rice, a few chickens, and a bicycle).

Minibus taxis, also called matatus, travel within most larger town/cities and between towns and cities. They are limited by law to 15 passengers, but are more likely to carry 20 to 24. The matatus have names, in large and bright letters on the top of the front window. My favorite, seen in Kampala, is "Puff Daddy". Beware the back seat of a matatu if you have even the faintest hint of claustrophobia. The seats are hard, and once the taxi is in its usual state of overcrowdedness, it’s really difficult to change your position. One long matatu ride equals one stiff and aching body!

The bus is marginally better. A bit more comfortable and it doesn’t stop as much. I have developed a strategy for better bus comfort – sit in the seats of two, not three, across. Take the window – if the person who sits next to you smells you can keep your nose in the fresh air. Limit your luggage – one piece under your legs and the other on your lap (eliminates the worry that your luggage will be stolen from the overhead racks). Take advantage of every "short call", even if it’s in a sugar cane field. Avoid the skewers of mystery meat offered (through the bus windows) by vendors, but eat and drink something along the way (despite your fear of "holding it" for 3 or 4 hours) so you don’t get dehydrated and dizzy. And just accept the fact that there may be chickens under the seat beside you, sacks of rice or huge bags of charcoal in the aisle, and that you have to witnesses hoards of live chickens and some poor goats with legs tied together stuffed into the bins under the bus.

Travel requires patience. The taxi or the bus doesn’t really have a schedule, they’ll just leave when they are full (or over full, as the case may be). You may have to sit and wait for awhile. Travel also requires the ability to deal with the unexpected. Case in point, my trip to Lira to meet my friend Mari and go on to Gulu. From Soriti, I boarded the matatu bound for Lira. We proceeded to drive around Soroti for another 45 minutes looking for passengers. On the way to Lira there was a flat tire. Once in Lira, Mari and I took a private hire that promised to get us to Gulu for the same fare as the bus. Along the way we picked up more passengers (for a total of 7 in 4 seats), and, of course chickens. About halfway to Gulu, in Kamdini Corners, the taxi decided that they would go no further. Fortunately, they did find us alternate transport – in the backseat of the Landrover driven by a nice couple from Entebbe, on their way to Gulu for a wedding. On the return trip, we were once again booted in Kamdini corners – this time from a matatu to a private hire taxi – the one mentioned above with 8 adults, 3 children, etc. Patience, flexibility, adaptability… you all know that I have not always been a patient person. I’m learning.

Locally, people depend upon bicycle taxis and motorcycle taxis, both referred to as bodas. The bicycle has a padded platform over the back wheel. It will take you a moderate distance for the equivalent of about 25 cents US. Motorcycles are more expensive, about 50 cents for the same trip. Women in skirts usually ride side saddle on both – it looks difficult. Peace Corps policy says no motorcycles (in urban areas they are quite dangerous) and asks that we wear our bicycle helmets on the bikes. So, as the good rule-follower that I am I have no personal experience to relate...I do, however have a lot of personal experience to relate about meetings.
Meetings

When you arrive at someone’s office, your first duty is signing the Visitor’s Book. Even for a brief courtesy call, even if the person is not there, you MUST sign the Visitor’s Book. It is a very important book. I just haven’t figured out why.

A scheduled meeting may turn out to be cancelled when you arrive at the meeting place (but you still have to sign the Visitors Book). Common reasons: "he went to a burial", "he has a touch of malaria", "there is a sick family member". No one calls to let you know that your meeting is cancelled. You just show up and find out.

Meetings also start chronically late. If scheduled for 10am, a quorum might arrive by noon. Then you have to have lunch at 1 or 2, so a three or four hour meeting takes all day. Granted, transportation from outlying districts can be unpredictable, so some late coming is expected, but this is a chronic (and for me annoying) occurrence.

Attitudes about time are just different. To this American (and, I assume, most others), a late arrival shows a lack of respect for the time and schedules of other people. Both getting used to time-related behavior and making culturally-sensitive efforts to change it are a big challenge at work. I’m still working on strategies to do it. In the meantime, I rely on practicing the virtue of patience and keeping something to read on my person at all times.

Reading, by the way, is my most important form of entertainment.
Entertainment

God bless my Nook. I read a lot, even when I’m busy at least a book a week. Without the miracle of my electronic book reader I would be suffering. There is no bookstore in Soroti. Even if there were, books in Uganda are quite expensive. There is a book exchange at the Peace Corps headquarters and there are bookstores in Kampala, but that’s six hours away, and travel to Kampala is currently restricted because of concerns over crime, possible election violence , and terrorism threats. I came to Uganda in August with 87 titles, and have read 14 of them, plus a half dozen or so books that I’ve borrowed from other volunteers. Don’t be surprised if I am begging for books in a few months.

I have a media player on my computer and an external DVD drive, so I’ve been able to enjoy movies copied from other volunteers and some DVDs that are circulating. Watching a movie is a nice slice of "normal". There is no movie theater in Soroti, and Kampala is the only place that I’ve seen one. Enough people have televisions and DVD players that there is a brisk market in obviously bootleg DVDs. They sell for $1 or $2 US. Action films are popular, most from America but also some from China.

Television is in some homes (there’s one in my neighborhood), but not in mine. If I need a TV fix I can go to any number of bars or restaurants to watch. Most Ugandans get their TV in public places. Football (soccer) is popular, but so are Ugandan, Nigerian, and Kenyan soap operas; Hidden Passions (the Mexican soap dubbed in English) and a number of shows from the US. They show past seasons of American Idol, Grey’s Anatomy, Everybody Hates Chris, and Desperate Housewives ( that’s just the Wednesday night line up on NTV!).

I’ve passed a few evenings just chatting with the neighbors, especially Father Ajaret. Father is recovering (quite well I should add) from a stroke. Who would have thought that one of my best Ugandan friends would be a Catholic priest?

Music is a mixed bag. From the radio and in bars or clubs you might hear African, Jamaican, or American popular music. Everyone knows JayZ, L’il Wayne, Rhianna (I know I didn’t spell that right, but you know who I mean), Eminem, Shakira, etc. But they also know, and love, Celine Dionne and Kenny Rogers. Go figure.

T-shirts with musicians are "in", which brings me to another topic…
Clothing

I saw a 10 year-old in an Eminem t-shirt at the Kumi bus stop. As you Facebook users know from my posts, I’ve also seen "Vote for Pedro" (at a Museveni presidential election rally – at the same rally there was a woman in a pick satin slip dress), "Keep Austin Weird", "Ian’s Bar Mitzvah", and "Genius by Birth, Slacker by Choice". Now, have you figured out where those clothes you donate to charity end up? Most of them are sold in bulk to brokers who bring them here, and offer them for sale. The used clothing market is booming. Shoes too. I fully expect to see at least one article of clothing and one pair of shoes that I donated in the States on a person or in the market before I leave Africa. (Those who know me well understand that a lot of shoes have passed through my closet, so the probability of seeing a pair is higher than you would think).
More to Come

My plan for future posts includes the topics of the donor culture, Ugandan English, housekeeping, gender roles, farming, and shopping. Of course, you will also endure a narrative on the safari Marty and I start on January 23. I’m off to a Peace Corps training session January 13 through 21, and Marty arrives on the 22nd. As you can image, I have been counting the days until his arrival
for a long time. For the first 10 days of his visit we’re heading to Queen Elizabeth Park, Kibale Forest (for Chimp tracking), and Murchison Falls. Look to Facebook for the typical safari photos –
elephants, hippos, antelope and if we’re lucky, giraffes and lions. Until then. (Did you notice that I wrote more about Food than any other topic? You can see my priorities!)

Goodbye Wakiso, Hello Soroti

2010-11-02T06:48:00.000-07:00

The prospect of moving to a home of my own was so enticing that I did not prepare for the sadness I would feel at leaving my home stay family in Wakiso. I miss the Bettys, and the assorted family that came and went during my two months there. Before I left for the trip to Kampala, Betty (the elder) made me sit, and then she placed her hands on my head and offered a prayer. Ruth and young Betty, each carrying a piece of my hand luggage, walked with me to the town center. I was surprised by my tears.

During the week following, our training class toured PC headquarters and the American Embassy in Kampala. We had dinner at the PC Country Director’s home. There was a two day workshop with representatives from the organizations each of us will be working with. And, finally, we were sworn in as Peace Corps Volunteers (Trainee no longer!) at the American Ambassador’s residence. Then, more goodbyes. This time to friends from the class, teachers, and staff. No tears this time, but fear at the realization that this support group would now be there only via telephone or at the end of a very long (and uncomfortable!) trip.

I was one of the lucky ones, because my organization sent a truck to carry me and my things to Soroti. Others had to rely upon public transport – not an easy trip with suitcases, backpacks, and the propane gas stoves that most had purchased in Kampala. In the extended cab pick-up we carried six people, including two other PCVs. A bit tight, but far less so than the bus or matatu (mini-bus taxi). Our driver was my supervisor, Father Akepa. Father, it turns out, is a big fan of Red Bull. He picked some up on the way to Soroti, and I met him in town buying more a couple of days later!

There are four PCVs from my training group in or very close to Soroti, and three more within an hour or so. All of us are working in some capacity with the Soroti Catholic Diocese. Mike is at a vocational school, Chelsea at the school for the blind, Joanna working in agricultural development, and the others at clinics or schools.

I am with CEREDO – Catholic Education, Research and Development Organization. Their mission is “to provide and promote quality and sustainable education for all people in the Teso region”. They provide development support to nursery, primary, secondary and vocational education; promote equal and meaningful opportunities for vulnerable groups (remote rural schools, the poor, the disabled, those affected by HIV/AIDS, girls, orphans); and support the development of district-based civil society networks related to education and community support of schools. (That’s a mouthful!)

And what will I be doing? The original thought was organizational development and planning. It looks like that thought is changing. The Program Officer for EQUIP may be leaving and there is talk that I might take on that function. EQUIP is the education quality improvement initiative accomplished in partnership with the Church of Uganda and other NGOs (non-government organizations). (It is not hard to see that there is an NGO “industry” here in Uganda, fueled by donor funds. A topic for more investigation and later comment!) The job has been described to me as “networking” with district education officials, parish representatives, school leadership, etc. to identify successes and best practice. Also to be the major liaison to the donor community, and to compile the semi-annual and annual reports. This is not exactly the kind of work that I envisioned I would do in the Peace Corps, but if this is what the organization needs, then I will do it. I need to know more, but things do move slowly here and patience is key. All will be revealed in time!

When I arrived in Soroti, my house was not quite ready. So, I spent four nights at the Desert Island Resort (a motel with a restaurant). For the first time since coming to Uganda I did some serious TV watching. One favorite show, “Hidden Passions”, is certain proof that we live in a global economy. A Mexican soap opera, dubbed in English, and broadcast in East Africa. So bad that it is delightful. Another entertainment note: Ugandans love country music and Celine Dion. They don’t, however, play country music at the Discotheque.

Yes, Soroti has a club, called the Trend Discotheque. Complete with glitter ball and black light. Last weekend the Diocese had a dinner for the PCVs (an outdoor event with beer and great food), following which a group of us went to the Trend. Like a club anywhere in the world, with the exception that not couples, but groups (of men, of women, of men and women) dominate the dance floor. We left at a very respectable hour, around midnight, but I arrived home to find myself locked out of the compound. My home is in a fenced compound, where there are four houses. Unfortunately we had to rouse a neighbor to let me in the gate. Working now on getting my own key!

Red Bull, television, country music, the disco… you might say “hey, this is not very different from the USA”. Believe me, it is different. Soroti is a small city/big town. Just outside, and in many internal neighborhoods, people live in round mud huts with thatched roofing. There is extreme poverty. Hunger. Dirt roads. Bicycle taxis. Begging. Long trips to the water source. Cattle and goals graze in the city square. I have hired once a week help with laundry, housecleaning, and yard work for the US equivalent of less than $15 per month – jobs are few and hard to get and wages low.

You also see some things that you might not expect… like the Hindu and Sikh temples and the Om Supermarket. The Indian community that Idi Amin expelled years ago has been returning to Uganda. Most of the “supermarkets” and many other retail stores are owned by Indians. A supermarket here has canned and bottled goods, baked items and maybe a few frozen things. It also carries cleaning products and house wares. Fresh fruits and vegetables are in the outdoor market. I’ve negotiated the market successfully – and been pleasantly surprised by the lack of effort to charge me “muzungu” prices. In general, the people here in Soroti may stare, but they don’t shout “muzungu” and seem to accept that I will be a part of the community. As in Wakiso, greeting people in the local language brings a smile.

My house is a cement structure with a metal roof. The floors are also cement. There are four small bedrooms (two of which I have simply cleaned then shut the door on), a sitting room, a kitchen and a bathroom. It’s a tad “run down” and the woodwork is a bit (actually a lot) termite-eaten, but recently painted. I have running water (not advisable to drink, but fine for washing), and electricity. I cannot, however, find a lamp anywhere in Soroti, so the light consists of a bare (but energy-saving!) bulb in each room. Between the lack of task lighting and the tendency of the electricity to go out for hours at a time, my head lamp is still one of my most valued possessions.

Although there is a shower, bucket baths with hot water from a thermos are the norm. It is very hot here, so the cold shower feels great at the end of the day but is just too much for me to handle in the morning. Heating water for the bath thermos as I clean up from dinner has become so routine that I’m afraid I will do it when I return to the States! After several tries, the toilet is finally working effectively, so my bathroom facilities are complete.

I feel very fortunate to have two things in my kitchen – the first is my two burner propane gas stove. It has been such a pleasure to cook, and control my own diet, again. No more matooke! The second, which is a true luxury, is a small refrigerator. Ah the pleasures of truly cold water and beer, not to mention a bug-free place to put leftovers and other “vulnerable” food.

Oh the bugs. Really big cockroaches and really big spiders. I have them under control, but only after spending a fortune on “Doom”. This could end up being one of my major expenses, as well as the cause of brain cancer or something. But I despise bugs. One reason that I love my mosquito net is that it keeps all of the critters out of my bed. No sign of rodents yet. Plenty of lizards (which is good because they eat bugs), and chickens and turkeys that make strange noises in the yard.

So far I have acquired a bed, and six plastic chairs. Molded plastic chairs are so ubiquitous in Africa that I’m afraid no one could sit down if they all disappeared! The chairs are currently serving as seats, a night table, dinner table and desk. A table is on order and it will serve as dining table and desk. At some point I hope to get a second bed, for guests. And that’s my home…

Oops, almost forgot luxury number three. A fan. Did I mention that it’s hot here? The fan means comfortable sleep, which I didn’t get much of in Wakiso. I think the circles under my eyes are disappearing. The only thing that wakes me in the night these days is the thunder and the rain. It is rainy season, and the rain is falling in the middle of the night and sometimes in the evening. The thunder comes in long rumbles, not claps, and the pounding rain on the metal roof makes quite a racket.

I’ll post photos on Facebook. Soon, I hope. I lost the cable from my camera to the computer, and I’m waiting for a replacement in the mail. Unfortunately¸ I also have challenges with internet here in Soroti. I cannot get to email or Facebook from my home or the office. So far, only the restaurant at the Landmark Hotel has promising connectivity. I may have to begin stopping there most evenings for a cold one and an email session!

Coming Soon - Soroti!

2010-10-10T08:39:00.000-07:00

The long wait is over. For eight weeks of training we have been wondering where exactly and what exactly our assignments would be. Language placements were a clue, but only to the general region. Now I have been to my site, been introduced to the organization I’ll be working with, and have seen what will be my home for the next two years. Two more weeks, one of training and one of administrative stuff in Kampala, and I’ll be settling in Soroti, the major town in the district of the same name.

Soroti is in Eastern Uganda, and a six hour bus trip from Kampala. The East is flat, wet and, where not wet and marshy, rocky. The people in this region have suffered from 20 years of civil strife, and more recently devastating floods. The region is among the poorest in Uganda – by one account more than 50% live on less than $1.00 US per day. My organization is CEREDO – the Catholic Education Research and Development Organization. Their programs include an education quality improvement initiative, HIV/AIDs and sexual/reproductive health training, and support for orphans and vulnerable children. It looks like my role will be in strategic planning and organization development, as well as to help with ideas for income generation with an eye toward self-sufficiency. Good, because I can help. Disappointing, because it won’t involve much day to day community engagement. To compensate I’ll look for a secondary project – possibly in a school or health center. There are about 5 other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) in the area, most working with Catholic-affiliated programs and many in schools. We’ve already been talking about projects and opportunities for each other in the various organizations.

The bus trip is long, and the buses are uncomfortable, but there is “entertainment”. First, one section of the trip is devoted to the sale of patent medicines. Then there is the lay preacher who has selected the route between Mbale and Kampala as his ministry. He prays and reads scripture in English and Luganda. Given the safety record and physical condition of most buses, my PC colleague who said “there are no atheists on a Ugandan bus” has a point…

Not exactly entertainment, but interesting nonetheless, is the practice of the “short call”. The bus stops, the conductor announces a short call, men leave the bus in one direction and women in the other, everyone slips into the sugar cane field and … The Ugandan version of the highway rest stop.

As the bus moves eastward from Kampala, banana trees give way to sugar cane and tea that give way to rice. You pass the source of the Nile, and drive through dusty trading centers. You turn northeast toward Mbale, at Mbale turn west and then travel two more hours to reach Soroti. As Soroti approaches the landscape turns marshy. Soroti is at the eastern edge of Lake Kyoga – an ill defined lake system that covers hundreds of square miles. Buses and cars and trucks pass by fishermen in dugout canoes waiting to spear their prey… the 21st century passing pre-history…

The staff at CEREDO was quite welcoming. I already have a desk, and I’ve been to visit some other local organizations that partner with CEREDO on selected projects. I’ll be posting some photos of the office and my new colleagues, as well as of my new home, on my Facebook page shortly. CEREDO is providing a house on a compound owned by the Soroti Diocese, right next door to the Bishop’s residence. I don’t think that safety and security will be a concern! My direct neighbors include a retired priest and the diocese accountant. The house has four bedrooms, a kitchen, a sitting room, and a bathroom. Rather more space than I expected! People are working on the house right now – some repairs, painting, and tiling the bathroom floor – with promises that it will be ready in two weeks. We’ll see if that happens. Meanwhile I’m preparing myself to spend some time in temporary quarters! Consider the current house photos as the “before” pictures…

My address in Soroti will be c/o CEREDO, Catholic Education, Research and Development Organization, PO Box 650 Soroti, Uganda. Best to you all!

Settling In

2010-08-28T10:55:00.000-07:00

August 21, 2010

The past two weeks have been overflowing with new sights, sounds, routines, and people. I don’t know if a blog post and can do it justice. Photos will help, when I can manage to get them uploaded. Our group of trainees spent the first several days in Uganda at a conference center outside of Kampala. There were classes, administration of our first immunizations (Hep A, Hep B, Rabies#1 and Yellow Fever so far) training on malaria prevention, and an introduction to the volunteer’s role in development. The Peace Corps approach is unique because it focuses on building local capacity and mobilizing the community to create sustainable results. Most of the work here is in community health or agriculture – so don’t be surprised to hear that my project is working in “farm to market” activities! It will be a few weeks yet before each of us knows exactly where we are going and what organizations we will be working with.

I do have some clues to my eventual assignment. I am learning the Ateso language, which is spoken in central eastern Uganda (Soroti and Kumi districts). That area is flat savannah, although near many large lakes. Language learning is a challenge, for sure. But, the classes are small (three students in mine) and the teachers excellent.

Last Sunday we had a field trip to Kampala, the capital and largest city. Kampala is crowded, chaotic, and overwhelming. I expect though, that I will be negotiating the old Taxi Park, the new Taxi Park, and the Bus Park like a pro by the end of this adventure. Kampala has outdoor markets for everything under the sun, including one devoted only to used clothing. It also has supermarkets and electronics stores. All of the trainees bought. It was a joy to speak to Marty and Eli, and I’m looking forward to more calls this weekend. The connection is amazing. If you sign up for Skype, you can call my cell phone for about 2 cents a minute. There is also a 1 800 number called 1 Suite that appears to have a 2 cent per minute rate – some of the trainees family are already using it. Skype video will be free, but it will be a couple of months before I have broadband internet so that we can use it. Yes you read “broadband internet”. It is widely available here (for a price, of course), so I am keeping my fingers crossed that the area of my assignment is covered. Marty and Eli have my number. Remember, I am 7 hours ahead of you, and I am in class from 8am to 5pm M to F, and 8am to 1pm on Saturday.

Until the end of October, my internet access is limited. During training, each trainee is living with a host family. Many have electricity and only a few have running water. My family has neither. Water is carried from the well about ½ mile down the road. The family’s light comes from a single kerosene lantern. Cooking happens outside on a wood fire or on a small charcoal stove. The house has concrete floors, and we bathe from a bucket in a small room that has a hole for drainage in one corner. I do have my own room, and a bed. A few nails in the wall make a closet. I’m also lucky to have a solar powered lamp (supplied by the Peace Corps) and my headlamp. It gets dark about 6:30pm, and light at 6:30am. We’re just about on the equator, so the length of the day is constant throughout the year.

My day goes something like this – wake up at six. Go to the pit latrine and empty the night bucket (no one leaves the house after dark). Bathe from a bucket of water. Eat breakfast. Bike or walk about three miles to school. Class (with breaks for tea and lunch) from 8 to 5. Walk or bike home. Once I stopped in town with some other volunteers for a beer. Most of the time I go straight home, visit a bit with my family, study, help with dinner or some other task (like fetching water), and take care of personal chores. We eat dinner about 10pm! The diet here is very high in starch – matoke, posho, cassava, rice, potatoes – sometimes all in the same meal! The starch is supplemented with a sauce, which is beans, groundnuts, vegetables, and only rarely, meat. There are also bananas, jack fruit, avocados, papaya and mango in abundance. It’s a good thing that I have to bike or walk about 6 miles a day, or I would be quite fat already.

My host “sister” is Betty. Most of the volunteers have host “mothers”, but I am a few years older than mine, so we settled on sister. Two of Betty’s grandchildren are living here, Betty is 11 and Emmanuel 2. I have also met various daughters, sisters, and nieces in my short time here. Betty is a strong, beautiful woman with a ready laugh. She has some English, as do her daughters and grandchildren, so communication has been challenging but not impossible. Unfortunately, I am learning Ateso and Betty speaks Luganda, so I am not doing much language learning at home. It took me a few days to adapt to the loss of all of the conveniences and routines that we take for granted in the U.S., but I am surprised at my ability to do so. I have a new appreciation for the effort required of families living in the developing world to get water, to cook, and to get their homes, clothing, and selves clean. Oh, but what I still wouldn’t do for a hot shower! I‘ve stopped: fingernail polish, eye make-up, and washing my hair every day. I haven’t stopped painting my toenails. A girl’s gotta have standards after all.

All for now… With luck I’ll get to the internet café tomorrow, after I do my clothes washing (by hand, of course).

August 26,2010

This week was a new adventure – with an amoeba. Sunday I was feeling more tired than usual, and by Monday morning was running a slight fever. I was taken to Kampala to see the nurse on duty at headquarters, where the vomiting and diarrhea began, and the temperature climbed to 102 degrees (and eventually a little higher). Off to the Surgery (don’t panic, it’s the British English term for clinic) for lab work and a diagnosis was confirmed. There were about two and a half days of pure misery – mitigated by Nurse Betsy. My Kampala angel. Betsy cares for PCVs and PCTs (Peace Core Volunteers and Peace Core Trainees) that need nursing care but not hospitalization. I received excellent care – with the side benefit of modern plumbing and electricity in her lovely hillside home. Oh, and the craziest part, I got a pedicure! A house call for a pedicure, only about $6 US.

I’m back in Wakiso, but spending a couple of nights at the school so that I don’t have to make the hike or bike to and from school. My appetite has returned, and with a bit more rest and food so will my strength and energy. Saturday I’m looking forward to another “field trip” to Kampala, this time to test the ATM cards for our new Ugandan bank accounts (PC pays by direct deposit), visit the Uganda Museum, and to get better oriented to the city.

Post Script – The Kampala expedition was a success, even more than expected. I have broadband internet already! And, I’m back “home”.

Leaving

2010-08-08T09:27:00.000-07:00

I leave for Uganda on August 10, but this journey began more than a year ago.

It was time for me to do something new. Retire? Not while my playmates are still working. A new company? Not with my disillusionment with and distaste for corporate life still intact. A new purpose? But, what exactly, would that be? Out came the list of dreams never pursued and the possibilities imagined for the 3rd third of this life.

At the intersection of dreams and possibilities I found the strong desire to make a difference, to give back after a lifetime of good fortune. I also found a need for adventure, for testing myself, and having intense new experiences. And then I investigated the Peace Corps. “Life is calling. How far will you go?” I was hooked.

The application process, well it certainly is a process. Application, essays, recommendations, the first request for my college transcripts in 25 years, the interview… Then there are the fingerprints, legal screening, and medical screenings. At 59, a woman has a medical history. And the Peace Corps wants to know ALL of it. And they want to know it from your primary care doc, your specialists, your dentist, your eye doctor, and you. It takes time.

The application is sent in June 2009. The interview is in July, and I’m nominated in August. Then begins the medical fun, and the long wait while they determine if they have a placement for you. At last, in April, there is news. That news is presented in an extraordinary fashion. I accept the invitation to a reception for 2010 DC area nominees at the Peace Corps headquarters. Ten of us are called to the stage and presented with invitations to serve. My nomination was for business development in Eastern Europe or Asia. The invitation is for Uganda. I have this to digest as I prepare to introduce myself and my assignment in front of 300 people. It took a little time to wrap my head around the idea of Africa. (My head is firmly wrapped around it today!)

Between application and invitation, a few other things happened. In November I lost my job. That was a good thing – like taking a long hot shower to scrub off years of accumulated grime. At some other time and in some other forum I’m looking forward to sharing my observations of corporate life and the people in it. Although I experienced modest success there, it’s a place where I never belonged. Leaving didn’t feel bad, it felt free.

So, the dirt gets removed and it’s time to start shedding skin. The first shed – selling my condominium. Easier than expected, logistically and emotionally. Next comes a layer of superfluous possessions. Much given away, to family and to charity. Some put into storage. Some sold. The essentials moved to Marty’s. Then the car goes. Here I am – free of an unfulfilling job, free of possessions, free of debt. Seems un-American, somehow.

I did accumulate a few new things. People. Now I have People – to manage my personal business. Just call my People if you need anything. I have new stuff. A solar charger. Portable French press. New luggage. A netbook. Speaking of stuff, stuffing it all into two suitcases and 80lbs was a challenge. That’s the reason for the new luggage – lighter bags provided room for 12 more pounds of stuff. With apologies to George Carlin, it keeps coming back to stuff. Got rid of most of it, but couldn’t help getting more! Part of my expectation for this experience in Uganda is learning to live with a lot less of it.

Living without stuff is a goal, but living without the people that I love will be incredibly hard. Living without the day to day presence of my guy Marty? Difficult to imagine. Marty’s support for this adventure has been selflessly given even through his sadness at my upcoming absence. Marty gets it. He knows why I want to do this. He is a wonderful man, and my life is enriched by his friendship and love. Africa in February, babe. It’s a date.

I will miss my son, Eli. (Eli, I’ll see YOU in Africa next summer!) I’ll miss my sister and brother, their children and grandchildren. I’ll miss Marty’s children and grandchildren. I’ll cry at Christmas, and on the day of Nick and Jessica’s wedding. I’ll expect to see lots of photos from everyone, and I’ll expect you to continue the annual Family Camping Trip tradition (even though next summer was my turn to pick the place)!

Writing for an audience is hard – it can feel like standing naked on a crowded bus. I had decided not to blog because I would be writing about personal thoughts and feelings. I was going to rely on e-mail distributions. Obviously, I’ve changed my mind.

Next posting… from Uganda!