Home...America... That elusive dreamy thing which I had been dreading...fearing even, from the onset of my journey into Africa. I got home and honestly, have felt that I left for Africa on a Tuesday and returned on a Wednesday of the same week; there is a dreamlike haze surrounding my memory already. I am so fearful that I will never go back; it tightens my stomach and makes me want to be ill. Random memories float through my sub-conscious; Kampala Road, Bwindi, Kiyandongo and Nakivali refugee settlements. I broke down and cried the other day when I got a message from Alex describing his Christmas; a broken generator, candlelight, outdoors. Heaven.
Nothing has changed here within the small confines of my life. Everyone has been doin the daily grind for so long...I mean yes, certain people's lives have changed...but as a whole my world post-Africa is exactly the same as was my pre-Africa...same people, same old same old.
Coming back hasn't been that difficult, exactly because nothing has changed. Whit peole weren't a shock, food was tough on my body, but not a shock. The million dollar homes in my area weren't a shock; neither was the grocery store. Malls were OK. Christmas was OK. Does that mean that there is something wrong with me, because it wasn't "hard"?? Does this mean something is going to slap me in the face later?? Does it mean that Africa didn't have an affect on me?
I wake up every morning and immediately calculate what time it is in Uganda...I switch prices over into Ugandan Shillings in my head. I want to go back...it is a fire that still burns within me...but it's not as easy as "I wish;" a flight to Uganda alone is USD$2,000...thats not some petty quick trip to Austria to see your ex-girlfriends former best friend (HAHA OOPS DID I JUST PUT THAT ON HERE?!?!)...
Everything is quite confusing, especially since its all jumbled about in my head. Almost all of my friends from home did not go abroad, and the ones from school that did are out galavanting in Thailand and Benin (those jerks!!), and most of the people from my study abroad group are well, too busy getting ready to go back to school to worry about lil ole me!
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
07.12.06
Hello all-
It’s been pretty crazy here since I have come back. I have been in the process of writing a report concerning my refugee studies which ended up being 35 pages long, 1.5 spacing (including all appendices)! So it was a lot of work.
During my absence many of the girl in my SIT group started hooking up with Ugandan pop stars. Soo my friend here is dating someone who is I would say the second most famous musician in Uganda, which makes things seem really funny, as I have now been privileged enough to see how nearly every class of society in Uganda lives, from the rural, the destitute, to the middle class and upper echelons of society. Personally I have hung out with them a few times, but I honestly can’t take going to a discotheque every night…I’m too old anymore haha.
It has been funny being one of the oldest in my group…when we talk about AIDS I can remember when they thought it was still transferred via kissing….look how far we have come now!
I had an AMAZING weekend. I went and saw the new james Bond film, Casino Royale. I premiered here Friday, and there’s a scene in Mbale
So now I am finished with College; no more paper writing, classes etc. I am only slightly scared to death, but it does help that I am supposed to start in mid January out in Victorville (I have settled on a position learning how to write grants in Victorville
It is Thursday and I am supposed to leave
As for
Also it is nearly Christmas…WHAT?!?! I have been living in a perpetual August since well August. There are a few Christmas decorations up…but it’s not cold and I was out sunbathing on a beach yesterday (which was GLORIOUS by the way), and the idea of the 6 inches of snow we got at home late last week makes me want to sob into my pillow! Ach, who needs seasons anyways?!?
I am wrapping up my time here and I don’t know what to really do or think! So I am just going to leave you all with these thoughts for now, and go walk around
Ciao,
Saturday, November 25, 2006
25.11.06
Hello again-Well I am finally back in kampala, after a two week fact finding mission that spanned the whole country. I met a lot of people, and was sad to leave them, especially thinking that i will never see them again.
I went to Nakivale refugee settlement in the very southern part of the country. On a map, it is East of Mbarara, you will see a large lake called NAKIVALE...yea, thats where I was. The settlement is around 30,000 people. One water source. I was dropped off in the town of about two stores. I went into a dreary darkened hole that had a sign advertising "motel" a lady figured out that i was looking for lodging, and led me to what i thought was a guest house (Africas version of hotels). I found out later that she was just renting her room out to me, and staying with friends. When i got into my room i just sat down and cried for the longest time. I am not really sure why; i think it had to do with me being alone in a strange town with almost no one who spoke English, in some woman's room. No electricity, no water...no food venues that i could figure out. I went to the settlement to look for a friend, and to inquire about accommodation. Because it was a saturday there was only a government official in the office compound, and no one could tell me if they could give me lodging. So it was back to the sketchy room for me!
On Sunday i went back and the camp commandant found me a translator. I started my interviews in ernst, as i had decided that i wanted to get out of this settlement as quickly as possible. I met some Sudanese men who had been leaders...until they protested beatings and poor conditions and the government hauled them off to new settlements in the middle of the night. Yea, its crazy out here. I took pictures of some documents that they were carrying with them; proof of meetings and the Ugandan governments refusal to allow them back into the original camp. I felt like a spy, quite honestly, which fills me with a feeling of fear, as well as feelings that I am really bad ass haha.
I did interviews for two days, and was planning to leave, but at the end of the second day one of the camp commandants took me out to show me the water source for the camp and told me that i should come back the next day, and i could even get a ride in a UNHCR vehicle back to Mbarara.
So Tuesday i spent the day tooling around the on the back of some camp workers off-road motorcycle. He took me to the farthest section of the camp...over 23 KM (about 14 miles or so) outside the base camp. The roads were muddy and horrible, and i was afraid to grab a hold of him so i kept holding on behind me...for most of the day i was afraid i was going to flip off the back and die in the middle of a refugee settlement in Uganda. But it was OK, i got even more information, and then i rode back to Mbarara with UNHCR officials. i felt pretty bad ass (again), and while i despise people who dont understand the people they are helping, or who live two hours away from the settlements they are working in because conditions are "too harsh," it was nice to just sit and relax in AIR CONDITIONING (its unheard of here), and not be pestered by Ugandan males for two hours. Too bad I hadn't showered in days. I got my revenge on those UNHCR officials!
Wednesday i made it all the way to Bwindi National park...it doesnt look that far on a map, but i had to travel through Kabale, and then for 3 hours on dirt roads up to the park. Thursday i went on a self-guided hike. Within the first five minutes i had fallen over and my ass was sooo muddy...oh man. I decided to go mountain climbing that afternoon. All but one hike in Bwindi you need a guide to take you on, so i went and paid for my hike (what a rip off man!!). So i got a guide and two armed guards...all unnecessary apparently*, due to the closeness with the Congo border. Thursday night, Thanksgiving, i hung out with some peace corps veterans. I think they have convinced me to join. I have been on the border for awhile concerning that decision. They were an absolutely amazing couple, currently working in Juba, Sudan. They said that there are a lot of job opportunities and that i would be promoted really fast if i went there...I dunno though, they also mentioned things about flies that if you hit them you get an acid burn...sooo, i dunno we shall see about all of that. My phone wouldnt get a signal in the mountains so i was unable to speak to my family for thanksgiving which made me sad. But the peace corps couple bought me a drink so i guess i was OK!
Friday morning i went gorilla trekking. I saw a one day old baby (my PC friends had seen it being BORN the day before...thats really rare, so you might see their video on national geographic soon!), a silverback some kids, an adolescent...all SOO close. The silverback was amazing, an awe-inspiring presence if you will allow me to sound lame. The kids sat in the trees throwing food down to the adults (they are too big to climb anywhere). The new mother held and kissed her baby, which was awesome to see. One kid fell out of the tree, almost onto the silverback, and then he ran up and touched me, while i was mumbling im not a tree! i'm not a tree!!
After trekking i left Bwindi with a girl i met there who had a private driver. I got to Kabale around 6 and decided to go to Mbarara for the night. On my way to Mbarara i met a man who was going all the way to kampala...6 hours away. So i decided to be crazy, even though i was exhausted, and make it all the way to kampala in one day. i got in at 1 am...and had to climb the gate to get into the compound of my apartment. I was verry tired and passed out immediately.
Next week i have to analyze and such all of my data and write my report. i still have to do a few interviews as well. But my time here is almost up, and i won't lie, I am very sad to be leaving Uganda.
Anyways, that's all for now. I will send out another e-mail when things get exciting again.
Sharon
*In 2007 Congo militia infiltrated a town near where I hiked and killed several villagers. Despite these provocations, Uganda did not fight back.
I went to Nakivale refugee settlement in the very southern part of the country. On a map, it is East of Mbarara, you will see a large lake called NAKIVALE...yea, thats where I was. The settlement is around 30,000 people. One water source. I was dropped off in the town of about two stores. I went into a dreary darkened hole that had a sign advertising "motel" a lady figured out that i was looking for lodging, and led me to what i thought was a guest house (Africas version of hotels). I found out later that she was just renting her room out to me, and staying with friends. When i got into my room i just sat down and cried for the longest time. I am not really sure why; i think it had to do with me being alone in a strange town with almost no one who spoke English, in some woman's room. No electricity, no water...no food venues that i could figure out. I went to the settlement to look for a friend, and to inquire about accommodation. Because it was a saturday there was only a government official in the office compound, and no one could tell me if they could give me lodging. So it was back to the sketchy room for me!
On Sunday i went back and the camp commandant found me a translator. I started my interviews in ernst, as i had decided that i wanted to get out of this settlement as quickly as possible. I met some Sudanese men who had been leaders...until they protested beatings and poor conditions and the government hauled them off to new settlements in the middle of the night. Yea, its crazy out here. I took pictures of some documents that they were carrying with them; proof of meetings and the Ugandan governments refusal to allow them back into the original camp. I felt like a spy, quite honestly, which fills me with a feeling of fear, as well as feelings that I am really bad ass haha.
I did interviews for two days, and was planning to leave, but at the end of the second day one of the camp commandants took me out to show me the water source for the camp and told me that i should come back the next day, and i could even get a ride in a UNHCR vehicle back to Mbarara.
So Tuesday i spent the day tooling around the on the back of some camp workers off-road motorcycle. He took me to the farthest section of the camp...over 23 KM (about 14 miles or so) outside the base camp. The roads were muddy and horrible, and i was afraid to grab a hold of him so i kept holding on behind me...for most of the day i was afraid i was going to flip off the back and die in the middle of a refugee settlement in Uganda. But it was OK, i got even more information, and then i rode back to Mbarara with UNHCR officials. i felt pretty bad ass (again), and while i despise people who dont understand the people they are helping, or who live two hours away from the settlements they are working in because conditions are "too harsh," it was nice to just sit and relax in AIR CONDITIONING (its unheard of here), and not be pestered by Ugandan males for two hours. Too bad I hadn't showered in days. I got my revenge on those UNHCR officials!
Wednesday i made it all the way to Bwindi National park...it doesnt look that far on a map, but i had to travel through Kabale, and then for 3 hours on dirt roads up to the park. Thursday i went on a self-guided hike. Within the first five minutes i had fallen over and my ass was sooo muddy...oh man. I decided to go mountain climbing that afternoon. All but one hike in Bwindi you need a guide to take you on, so i went and paid for my hike (what a rip off man!!). So i got a guide and two armed guards...all unnecessary apparently*, due to the closeness with the Congo border. Thursday night, Thanksgiving, i hung out with some peace corps veterans. I think they have convinced me to join. I have been on the border for awhile concerning that decision. They were an absolutely amazing couple, currently working in Juba, Sudan. They said that there are a lot of job opportunities and that i would be promoted really fast if i went there...I dunno though, they also mentioned things about flies that if you hit them you get an acid burn...sooo, i dunno we shall see about all of that. My phone wouldnt get a signal in the mountains so i was unable to speak to my family for thanksgiving which made me sad. But the peace corps couple bought me a drink so i guess i was OK!
Friday morning i went gorilla trekking. I saw a one day old baby (my PC friends had seen it being BORN the day before...thats really rare, so you might see their video on national geographic soon!), a silverback some kids, an adolescent...all SOO close. The silverback was amazing, an awe-inspiring presence if you will allow me to sound lame. The kids sat in the trees throwing food down to the adults (they are too big to climb anywhere). The new mother held and kissed her baby, which was awesome to see. One kid fell out of the tree, almost onto the silverback, and then he ran up and touched me, while i was mumbling im not a tree! i'm not a tree!!
After trekking i left Bwindi with a girl i met there who had a private driver. I got to Kabale around 6 and decided to go to Mbarara for the night. On my way to Mbarara i met a man who was going all the way to kampala...6 hours away. So i decided to be crazy, even though i was exhausted, and make it all the way to kampala in one day. i got in at 1 am...and had to climb the gate to get into the compound of my apartment. I was verry tired and passed out immediately.
Next week i have to analyze and such all of my data and write my report. i still have to do a few interviews as well. But my time here is almost up, and i won't lie, I am very sad to be leaving Uganda.
Anyways, that's all for now. I will send out another e-mail when things get exciting again.
Sharon
*In 2007 Congo militia infiltrated a town near where I hiked and killed several villagers. Despite these provocations, Uganda did not fight back.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
17.11.06
Hello All! Yea, I am still alive (surprisingly)! As you can tell from the subject, I haven't seen a mirror in quite some time…
It has been a crazy journey and its not even over yet! Friday I left Kampala and headed to Eastern Uganda; Mbale to be exact, with my roommate Sara. I slept most of the way in the taxi, until we got to about the midway point at which the taxi stopped on the side of the road and hawkers selling roasted meat on sticks swarmed our car. Yikes. We got to Mbale and our trip was not done. We walked all over the "city" until we found taxis that were heading to the rural outpost of Sipi Falls. I have been there before, and it is simply beautiful.
A man asked us where we were going and when we responded sipi he grabbed saras luggage (which made us nervous), but then he shouted let me help you! This is Uganda, not Nairobi!! (alluding to the high crime levels in the Kenyan capital). He threw our luggage into the back of a station wagon type vehicle and sara and I climbed in. Four adults across the back seat and three in the front. I don't really know how he was shifting up the steep mountain roads…We got to Sipi and were basically lazy on Friday. We were also joined by a third friend, Shelley, who is staying in the area. Saturday we went and visited the homestay where shelley is based out of. We were fed so many ground nuts (peanuts), and we were supposed to eat them all to be polite, but we had to hide some in my pockets because we simply couldn't eat that many peanuts (It was a huge plate full). So we left and climbed up to the top of the second waterfall in the area (there are three). Some children decided to accompany us, and I decided to pay them in peanuts….it worked out well. We decided to leave Sipi and go to Kapchorwa, the local female-genital-mutilation stronghold in the area. The only way to really get there is via hitch hiking. So the three of us started walking down the road, and when a low riding truck passed we flapped our arms (thumbs don't work here; you have to shack your whole arm haha) and we climbed onto the back. The whole bed was full of produce and women, and the sides were full of men. I clung for dear life to the side, as the only room was to sit on a bar that went around the outside of the truck. For 10 KM I hung with most of my body weight over the bed so that if I fell I would fall into the truck. It was interesting to say the least; I was very happy when we arrived in Kapchorwa (on a map it is near Mount Elgon National Park). We basically did nothing there, except we were followed by a huge group of small children. We took a taxi home, so no more hitching for me…until the next day.
Sunday morning saw us standing on the road side waiting for a vehicle. One stopped rather quickly (and Action Aid NGO truck), and I asked if we could sit in the bed (with the sheep). The guy let us ride in the cab. Sara didn't secure her bit of luggage very well and on a steep curve it hit one of the sheep…oops! We got back to Mbale and boarded a taxi that was headed to Soroti. Two hours later we were still waiting. A taxi won't leave unless it is full, and let me tell you NO ONE in Mbale wanted to go to Soroti that day. Finally we left, after about 2.5 hours. It is illegal to put more than the correct number of passengers (17) in the taxi, but people disobey this to get more money. Well sara and I were having none of it, and refused to let more people sit in our row with us. The taxi conductor (the guy in charge of passengers and money, not the driver) HATED us haha. We got to soroti and I ended up spending the night with a friend who is out there. It was nice to relax and play a bit of pool. Monday I boarded a taxi to Lira, a "large" city in the northern part of the country. After another two hours of waiting we left soroti. I got to Lira, had a quick lunch with other people from my program, and said good-bye to traveling with a friend; from there on out I have been alone. I boarded yet ANOTHER taxi that was headed back south to Masindi; the direction of the settlement I was going to. After ANOTHER TWO HOURS OF WAITING!!! Agh!! Africa!! We left. We drove through Murchison falls national park. I saw more baboons. They cease to excite me, for although they are not commonly seen, really how exciting can baboons be? The trip was taking longer than I heard it should. I didn't really know where I was going so I had asked the taxi conductor to tell me when to get off. I was nervous that he had forgotten about me, so I asked the man next to me if we had passed Kiryandongo. He said no, but that it was two stops ahead. I mentioned that I was going to the refugee settlement and he told me to get off at the next stop as it was actually closer to the settlement than Kiryandongo (conveniently it was where he was getting off as well). So I got off in a town called Bweyale. It is nothing more than a town established by Acholi peoples who have fled the instability of the northern region of Uganda. The man (Francis) showed me to a nice guest house (hotel) that his friend owned. It was about $3 a night. The place didn't have running water, so communal showering and toilets were available. I washed some of my clothes and had dinner and went to bed. It's funny how tiring waiting all day can be! Tuesday I went to the settlement. I was nervous to talk to the settlement commander, in case he should banish me, but he was actually quite helpful. He assigned three Makerere students who are Sudanese refugees studying in the camp to help me with translation/ showing me around. The three students (girls) were close to me in age, and we quickly became friends. Tuesday we went to the group that does the work in the camp; the IRC (international rescue committee, an American based NGO) and did some interviewing about basics in the settlement. As previously mentioned Uganda doesn't have refugee "camps" they provide the refugees with land in which they can grow their own food, so they are called settlements. Tuesday was a getting acquainted day, and I did one or two interviews. For lunch we went to a small mud hut. The girls ordered me lunch, which turned out to be boiled cassava (about as tasteless as a potato, and just as much starch), and a fish. Literally a fish. Scales, gills, and even an eyeball staring at me. I pulled of bits like the fins and basically tried to eat what I could. I laughed sitting there imagining what people at home would say. Would they be proud of me? Or horrified? Haha. That day when I left I got a bicycle boda boda to get home. I have become very accustomed to riding side saddle like the African girls do. The people think its very funny to see a mzungu riding side saddle (in fact, the only thing that they laugh harder at is when I am "footing," as walking is called here). Well anyways, I am good at riding motorcycle boda bodas, and side saddle etc. However, this bicycle boda was CRAZY. I don't know if he was drunk or what, but lets just say that we fell over. Tumbled into the grass on the side of a very rutted road. My feet were straight up in the air, my skirt over my head…everyone laughing. Yikes. Well I picked myself up and got back on…what else could I do haha? To make matters worse, within an hour after said "incident" my three friends began calling me…they had heard that the mzungu fell over. I guess all 15,000 refugees knew by the end of the day…I personally think that to be my favorite story yet.
Wednesday I interviewed the former refugee leader for the camp. He confirmed the story that refugee leaders in Kyangwali had been made to "disappear," and talked to me about UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) policy within the camp. I also witnessed a womens meeting chaired by UNHCR, and read through some files that I was probably not supposed to see, but oh well.
Thursday I went to the medical clinic and talked with the AIDS/ HIV staff. I also interviewed the headmaster for the single secondary school in the whole camp. He was saying that although repatriation to Sudan is supposed to be voluntary (most of the 15,000 refugees in Kiryandongo Settlement are Sudanese), UNHCR had been cutting funding in an effort to silently force repatriation. Interesting. Friday I managed to get all the way down to Mbarara…I was on buses the whole day…big huge coach buses, which are faster than stupid taxis. So once again I am in the Southern Hemisphere. I am leaving Mbarara today, and heading to Nakivale, Uganda's largest camp, housing Sudanese, Somalies Rwandese, Congolese, Burindese, Ethiopians…basically anyone. I don't know where I am staying yet, so wish me luck!!
Thanks again for all of your support. i don't know if i will have access to a computer before thanksgiving, so if not, happy holidays. Also, on the biggest shopping day of the year, i will be gorilla trekking. I am not jealous of anyone in America hehe!
Again, thank you, and happy holidays!
Sharon
It has been a crazy journey and its not even over yet! Friday I left Kampala and headed to Eastern Uganda; Mbale to be exact, with my roommate Sara. I slept most of the way in the taxi, until we got to about the midway point at which the taxi stopped on the side of the road and hawkers selling roasted meat on sticks swarmed our car. Yikes. We got to Mbale and our trip was not done. We walked all over the "city" until we found taxis that were heading to the rural outpost of Sipi Falls. I have been there before, and it is simply beautiful.
A man asked us where we were going and when we responded sipi he grabbed saras luggage (which made us nervous), but then he shouted let me help you! This is Uganda, not Nairobi!! (alluding to the high crime levels in the Kenyan capital). He threw our luggage into the back of a station wagon type vehicle and sara and I climbed in. Four adults across the back seat and three in the front. I don't really know how he was shifting up the steep mountain roads…We got to Sipi and were basically lazy on Friday. We were also joined by a third friend, Shelley, who is staying in the area. Saturday we went and visited the homestay where shelley is based out of. We were fed so many ground nuts (peanuts), and we were supposed to eat them all to be polite, but we had to hide some in my pockets because we simply couldn't eat that many peanuts (It was a huge plate full). So we left and climbed up to the top of the second waterfall in the area (there are three). Some children decided to accompany us, and I decided to pay them in peanuts….it worked out well. We decided to leave Sipi and go to Kapchorwa, the local female-genital-mutilation stronghold in the area. The only way to really get there is via hitch hiking. So the three of us started walking down the road, and when a low riding truck passed we flapped our arms (thumbs don't work here; you have to shack your whole arm haha) and we climbed onto the back. The whole bed was full of produce and women, and the sides were full of men. I clung for dear life to the side, as the only room was to sit on a bar that went around the outside of the truck. For 10 KM I hung with most of my body weight over the bed so that if I fell I would fall into the truck. It was interesting to say the least; I was very happy when we arrived in Kapchorwa (on a map it is near Mount Elgon National Park). We basically did nothing there, except we were followed by a huge group of small children. We took a taxi home, so no more hitching for me…until the next day.
Sunday morning saw us standing on the road side waiting for a vehicle. One stopped rather quickly (and Action Aid NGO truck), and I asked if we could sit in the bed (with the sheep). The guy let us ride in the cab. Sara didn't secure her bit of luggage very well and on a steep curve it hit one of the sheep…oops! We got back to Mbale and boarded a taxi that was headed to Soroti. Two hours later we were still waiting. A taxi won't leave unless it is full, and let me tell you NO ONE in Mbale wanted to go to Soroti that day. Finally we left, after about 2.5 hours. It is illegal to put more than the correct number of passengers (17) in the taxi, but people disobey this to get more money. Well sara and I were having none of it, and refused to let more people sit in our row with us. The taxi conductor (the guy in charge of passengers and money, not the driver) HATED us haha. We got to soroti and I ended up spending the night with a friend who is out there. It was nice to relax and play a bit of pool. Monday I boarded a taxi to Lira, a "large" city in the northern part of the country. After another two hours of waiting we left soroti. I got to Lira, had a quick lunch with other people from my program, and said good-bye to traveling with a friend; from there on out I have been alone. I boarded yet ANOTHER taxi that was headed back south to Masindi; the direction of the settlement I was going to. After ANOTHER TWO HOURS OF WAITING!!! Agh!! Africa!! We left. We drove through Murchison falls national park. I saw more baboons. They cease to excite me, for although they are not commonly seen, really how exciting can baboons be? The trip was taking longer than I heard it should. I didn't really know where I was going so I had asked the taxi conductor to tell me when to get off. I was nervous that he had forgotten about me, so I asked the man next to me if we had passed Kiryandongo. He said no, but that it was two stops ahead. I mentioned that I was going to the refugee settlement and he told me to get off at the next stop as it was actually closer to the settlement than Kiryandongo (conveniently it was where he was getting off as well). So I got off in a town called Bweyale. It is nothing more than a town established by Acholi peoples who have fled the instability of the northern region of Uganda. The man (Francis) showed me to a nice guest house (hotel) that his friend owned. It was about $3 a night. The place didn't have running water, so communal showering and toilets were available. I washed some of my clothes and had dinner and went to bed. It's funny how tiring waiting all day can be! Tuesday I went to the settlement. I was nervous to talk to the settlement commander, in case he should banish me, but he was actually quite helpful. He assigned three Makerere students who are Sudanese refugees studying in the camp to help me with translation/ showing me around. The three students (girls) were close to me in age, and we quickly became friends. Tuesday we went to the group that does the work in the camp; the IRC (international rescue committee, an American based NGO) and did some interviewing about basics in the settlement. As previously mentioned Uganda doesn't have refugee "camps" they provide the refugees with land in which they can grow their own food, so they are called settlements. Tuesday was a getting acquainted day, and I did one or two interviews. For lunch we went to a small mud hut. The girls ordered me lunch, which turned out to be boiled cassava (about as tasteless as a potato, and just as much starch), and a fish. Literally a fish. Scales, gills, and even an eyeball staring at me. I pulled of bits like the fins and basically tried to eat what I could. I laughed sitting there imagining what people at home would say. Would they be proud of me? Or horrified? Haha. That day when I left I got a bicycle boda boda to get home. I have become very accustomed to riding side saddle like the African girls do. The people think its very funny to see a mzungu riding side saddle (in fact, the only thing that they laugh harder at is when I am "footing," as walking is called here). Well anyways, I am good at riding motorcycle boda bodas, and side saddle etc. However, this bicycle boda was CRAZY. I don't know if he was drunk or what, but lets just say that we fell over. Tumbled into the grass on the side of a very rutted road. My feet were straight up in the air, my skirt over my head…everyone laughing. Yikes. Well I picked myself up and got back on…what else could I do haha? To make matters worse, within an hour after said "incident" my three friends began calling me…they had heard that the mzungu fell over. I guess all 15,000 refugees knew by the end of the day…I personally think that to be my favorite story yet.
Wednesday I interviewed the former refugee leader for the camp. He confirmed the story that refugee leaders in Kyangwali had been made to "disappear," and talked to me about UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) policy within the camp. I also witnessed a womens meeting chaired by UNHCR, and read through some files that I was probably not supposed to see, but oh well.
Thursday I went to the medical clinic and talked with the AIDS/ HIV staff. I also interviewed the headmaster for the single secondary school in the whole camp. He was saying that although repatriation to Sudan is supposed to be voluntary (most of the 15,000 refugees in Kiryandongo Settlement are Sudanese), UNHCR had been cutting funding in an effort to silently force repatriation. Interesting. Friday I managed to get all the way down to Mbarara…I was on buses the whole day…big huge coach buses, which are faster than stupid taxis. So once again I am in the Southern Hemisphere. I am leaving Mbarara today, and heading to Nakivale, Uganda's largest camp, housing Sudanese, Somalies Rwandese, Congolese, Burindese, Ethiopians…basically anyone. I don't know where I am staying yet, so wish me luck!!
Thanks again for all of your support. i don't know if i will have access to a computer before thanksgiving, so if not, happy holidays. Also, on the biggest shopping day of the year, i will be gorilla trekking. I am not jealous of anyone in America hehe!
Again, thank you, and happy holidays!
Sharon
Monday, November 06, 2006
6.11.06
Hello to you all
I write this message in a somber mood, unlike my other e-mails which saw me excited to explain anything and everything that i have across in my travels.
I have had a week filled with a very harsh reality...one that i certainly knew existed, but now i have faces to go with the stories, and tears cried on my shoulder.
I have now worked two weeks with a refugee organization here in Kampala. As previously mentioned I am very frustrated with both sides of the organization....However thursday and Friday saw me working at InterAids Medical hostel. Patients live in said hostel while receiving treatment at the only truly functioning national Ugandan hospital. I have cried everyday.
My job up to this point i have been fairly removed from clients, except for several intake interviews that i have done. Intake interviews are done when a client arrives in kampala. We have to explain to them that if they are living here in the city they will get NO HELP from UNHCR...zippo. i started to explain this to an 18 year old Sudanese boy whose father was recently murdered...he didn't want to stay in kampala, so i had to tell him that he has to get to Nakivale settlement...about a 5 hour drive...on his own. He doesnt have money to take a bus, and I dont know how he is going to get there. it took me a lot of willpower not to pull out every shilling I had on me and shove it at him. I ushered him out the door of InterAid and waved him goodbye, wondering if he would make it.
At the medical clinic things quickly got worse. Thursday i arrived and was showed around. The matron told everyone that they could approach me with their problems, which made me very nervous because well i am not a doctor...and dont know anything about medical issues. The matron turned me loose on the hostel and i started walking around the wards (rooms...) the first room held two women (verry young girls actually) who had their babies with them. The babies heads were swollen to a size much too large for their emaciated bodies. in broken English one girl explained to me that there was too much water in the skull and that the doctors had installed tubes to drain the water. One girl lifted the coverlet and showed me the tube snaking along the skull of her 8 month old baby. A Sudanese guy i recognized from working the front desk popped in. He explained to me that he had joined the SPLA (Sudanese rebel faction) in 1987 when he was 13. he was a leader at a munitions depot when one night he was smoking and the cigarette didn't go out completely and the munitions depot blew up. The SPLA thought he was a subversive and tortured him. He showed me his scars. He told me that he had some mental instability due to his torture, and asked me what he could do. I (surprisingly) had a good answer for him. i gave him the name of a local organization that works with torture survivors, drew him a little map, and he was very happy. I was happy because i had an answer to his question.
I then went and hung out in a room with Sudanese women and their children. All of the little girls had cancer. Chemotherapy is not an option here...While i was in the room playing with them patients began arriving from the hospital. An old frail looking woman stumbled in and curled up on a bed. Through a translator i was able to determine that although she looked 70 something the woman was only 40, and that she had breast cancer. A fully covered somali woman walked in and spoke INCREDIBLE english, asking who the caretaker of the elderly woman was. She explained that the next day (friday) someone who spoke both english and her native tongue needed to go to the hospital with her, as she had not been treated that day because no one could talk to her. She had simply laid in front of the hospital all day. The somali woman, called Dalmar, became my guide of sorts.
After lunch on thursday many of the men at the clinic wanted to talk to me. They asked me if there was cancer in America...i had to sit and explain them that even in America, their dream of dreams, where everything was supposed to be perfect, there was no cure for cancer. Their faces fell. Slowly the conversation turned to rights. They asked me what their rights were, and what they could do to claim them. I gave them a quick synopsis, and told them that the only suggestion that I had, since they knew their problems better than I ever could, was that they needed to organize in the camps and select a leader. A Sudanese man looked at me and said no no, we have done that, but out leaders and their families disappear. I sat in a sort of shocked, upset silence. I asked the man for the name of the settlement camp he was in, as well as the names of the men that have disappeared. He wanted to give me his name as well, but I was afraid that if the wrong person or people figure out that he was telling me, he would disappear too. So I could not take his name.
The thing that most frustrated me Thursday was that refugees have NO knowledge. No one tells them how UNHCR works, what they should do, who they can go to (which is clearly no one)...they are told to perpetually wait. For years.
Friday i was back at the med hostel. The babies with large heads and cancer-ridden children had all been taken back to their respective settlements. The Somali woman approached me, weeping. Apparently the breast cancer woman had died in the night. No one gave her any treatment. Dalmar and I hung out a lot on Friday. she is 22, like me, and has severe blood clotting and heart valve problems. I asked her what had been happening in Somalia when she fled one year ago, expecting a general account. She told me that there had been fighting, and that her father had been suffering from heart problems so one night she went to the pharmacy to pick up his drugs. When she returned home her entire family was dead. When she arrived at a refugee settlement in Uganda she was not placed in the Somali section, as she is a minority, so the other Somalis would not accept her. She stays in the Rwandese section of the camp and has no one that speaks her language near her. As of Friday I had not given anyone here money. But Friday I pulled out a 10,000/= note, about $5 USD and handed it to Dalmar as she walked me to a motorcycle taxi (bodaboda). This action immediately made her start sobbing, and I made her promise that she would save the money until she really needed it. I am not the type of person that believes throwing money at a problem fixes it, because money is only a temporary fix to poverty, but the settlement life is SO hard, she has no money for school or anything and if she sells anything the money isn’t disposable income, she has to use it to buy soap and other necessities. Maybe it was foolish, but I just felt like she really needed it, more than I ever possibly could.
Friday night I was just so bummed out. I went to an Acholi dance troupe with some friends and we went out to have a nice pasta dinner and some wine (I needed that wine bad!!), and no Grandma Wegner, I don’t drink white Zin. anymore, no worries. During dinner I called my parents out in Yosemite/ Sonoma and bawled on the phone about my week while pacing the streets of Kampala (past prostitutes…everything I do in Kampala has to do with prostitutes, which is illegal here).
Saturday night I went dancing…and by dancing I was in a night club but my primary activity was keeping boys away from me. Sunday I was a lazy piece of junk and sat around. My roommate Sara went to a four hour church service (no sarcasm there, im dead serious), and was not in a good mood when she got home. For dinner we went and had nachos…meaning guacamole and wonton noodles instead of tortilla chips, and then went to watch football (tottingham v. Chelsea) and drank some more wine. I went home and immediately went to bed.
My plan now is to quit InterAid…the stupid internship that I worked so hard to get!! But not because I dislike the place or the peoples, but because I want to focus on the disparity between human rights policy and human rights on the ground concerning Refugees…clearly they are very different things. So I believe that Friday I am leaving to visit my friend studying FGM (female genital mutilation) in Kapchorwa, then I will go to Lira for about a week, then down to Mbarara/ nakivale refugee settlement.
Tomorrow I have to go schmooze office of the prime minister in charge of refugee issues, David Apollo Kazungu, into letting me go to the settlements. I have to be vague about my reasoning for going because if I just say that I want to investigate human rights violations that might not go over so well…
The rainy season has officially arrived, and my blood has now thinned because i am chilly in the 65 degree weather here after a storm. Also grasshopper season is upon us here...they are HUGE....but i cant wait to eat them because they have become the bain of my apartment dwelling existence
I hope everyone is doing OK! I am shopping for your Christmas presents as we speak…
Sharon
I write this message in a somber mood, unlike my other e-mails which saw me excited to explain anything and everything that i have across in my travels.
I have had a week filled with a very harsh reality...one that i certainly knew existed, but now i have faces to go with the stories, and tears cried on my shoulder.
I have now worked two weeks with a refugee organization here in Kampala. As previously mentioned I am very frustrated with both sides of the organization....However thursday and Friday saw me working at InterAids Medical hostel. Patients live in said hostel while receiving treatment at the only truly functioning national Ugandan hospital. I have cried everyday.
My job up to this point i have been fairly removed from clients, except for several intake interviews that i have done. Intake interviews are done when a client arrives in kampala. We have to explain to them that if they are living here in the city they will get NO HELP from UNHCR...zippo. i started to explain this to an 18 year old Sudanese boy whose father was recently murdered...he didn't want to stay in kampala, so i had to tell him that he has to get to Nakivale settlement...about a 5 hour drive...on his own. He doesnt have money to take a bus, and I dont know how he is going to get there. it took me a lot of willpower not to pull out every shilling I had on me and shove it at him. I ushered him out the door of InterAid and waved him goodbye, wondering if he would make it.
At the medical clinic things quickly got worse. Thursday i arrived and was showed around. The matron told everyone that they could approach me with their problems, which made me very nervous because well i am not a doctor...and dont know anything about medical issues. The matron turned me loose on the hostel and i started walking around the wards (rooms...) the first room held two women (verry young girls actually) who had their babies with them. The babies heads were swollen to a size much too large for their emaciated bodies. in broken English one girl explained to me that there was too much water in the skull and that the doctors had installed tubes to drain the water. One girl lifted the coverlet and showed me the tube snaking along the skull of her 8 month old baby. A Sudanese guy i recognized from working the front desk popped in. He explained to me that he had joined the SPLA (Sudanese rebel faction) in 1987 when he was 13. he was a leader at a munitions depot when one night he was smoking and the cigarette didn't go out completely and the munitions depot blew up. The SPLA thought he was a subversive and tortured him. He showed me his scars. He told me that he had some mental instability due to his torture, and asked me what he could do. I (surprisingly) had a good answer for him. i gave him the name of a local organization that works with torture survivors, drew him a little map, and he was very happy. I was happy because i had an answer to his question.
I then went and hung out in a room with Sudanese women and their children. All of the little girls had cancer. Chemotherapy is not an option here...While i was in the room playing with them patients began arriving from the hospital. An old frail looking woman stumbled in and curled up on a bed. Through a translator i was able to determine that although she looked 70 something the woman was only 40, and that she had breast cancer. A fully covered somali woman walked in and spoke INCREDIBLE english, asking who the caretaker of the elderly woman was. She explained that the next day (friday) someone who spoke both english and her native tongue needed to go to the hospital with her, as she had not been treated that day because no one could talk to her. She had simply laid in front of the hospital all day. The somali woman, called Dalmar, became my guide of sorts.
After lunch on thursday many of the men at the clinic wanted to talk to me. They asked me if there was cancer in America...i had to sit and explain them that even in America, their dream of dreams, where everything was supposed to be perfect, there was no cure for cancer. Their faces fell. Slowly the conversation turned to rights. They asked me what their rights were, and what they could do to claim them. I gave them a quick synopsis, and told them that the only suggestion that I had, since they knew their problems better than I ever could, was that they needed to organize in the camps and select a leader. A Sudanese man looked at me and said no no, we have done that, but out leaders and their families disappear. I sat in a sort of shocked, upset silence. I asked the man for the name of the settlement camp he was in, as well as the names of the men that have disappeared. He wanted to give me his name as well, but I was afraid that if the wrong person or people figure out that he was telling me, he would disappear too. So I could not take his name.
The thing that most frustrated me Thursday was that refugees have NO knowledge. No one tells them how UNHCR works, what they should do, who they can go to (which is clearly no one)...they are told to perpetually wait. For years.
Friday i was back at the med hostel. The babies with large heads and cancer-ridden children had all been taken back to their respective settlements. The Somali woman approached me, weeping. Apparently the breast cancer woman had died in the night. No one gave her any treatment. Dalmar and I hung out a lot on Friday. she is 22, like me, and has severe blood clotting and heart valve problems. I asked her what had been happening in Somalia when she fled one year ago, expecting a general account. She told me that there had been fighting, and that her father had been suffering from heart problems so one night she went to the pharmacy to pick up his drugs. When she returned home her entire family was dead. When she arrived at a refugee settlement in Uganda she was not placed in the Somali section, as she is a minority, so the other Somalis would not accept her. She stays in the Rwandese section of the camp and has no one that speaks her language near her. As of Friday I had not given anyone here money. But Friday I pulled out a 10,000/= note, about $5 USD and handed it to Dalmar as she walked me to a motorcycle taxi (bodaboda). This action immediately made her start sobbing, and I made her promise that she would save the money until she really needed it. I am not the type of person that believes throwing money at a problem fixes it, because money is only a temporary fix to poverty, but the settlement life is SO hard, she has no money for school or anything and if she sells anything the money isn’t disposable income, she has to use it to buy soap and other necessities. Maybe it was foolish, but I just felt like she really needed it, more than I ever possibly could.
Friday night I was just so bummed out. I went to an Acholi dance troupe with some friends and we went out to have a nice pasta dinner and some wine (I needed that wine bad!!), and no Grandma Wegner, I don’t drink white Zin. anymore, no worries. During dinner I called my parents out in Yosemite/ Sonoma and bawled on the phone about my week while pacing the streets of Kampala (past prostitutes…everything I do in Kampala has to do with prostitutes, which is illegal here).
Saturday night I went dancing…and by dancing I was in a night club but my primary activity was keeping boys away from me. Sunday I was a lazy piece of junk and sat around. My roommate Sara went to a four hour church service (no sarcasm there, im dead serious), and was not in a good mood when she got home. For dinner we went and had nachos…meaning guacamole and wonton noodles instead of tortilla chips, and then went to watch football (tottingham v. Chelsea) and drank some more wine. I went home and immediately went to bed.
My plan now is to quit InterAid…the stupid internship that I worked so hard to get!! But not because I dislike the place or the peoples, but because I want to focus on the disparity between human rights policy and human rights on the ground concerning Refugees…clearly they are very different things. So I believe that Friday I am leaving to visit my friend studying FGM (female genital mutilation) in Kapchorwa, then I will go to Lira for about a week, then down to Mbarara/ nakivale refugee settlement.
Tomorrow I have to go schmooze office of the prime minister in charge of refugee issues, David Apollo Kazungu, into letting me go to the settlements. I have to be vague about my reasoning for going because if I just say that I want to investigate human rights violations that might not go over so well…
The rainy season has officially arrived, and my blood has now thinned because i am chilly in the 65 degree weather here after a storm. Also grasshopper season is upon us here...they are HUGE....but i cant wait to eat them because they have become the bain of my apartment dwelling existence
I hope everyone is doing OK! I am shopping for your Christmas presents as we speak…
Sharon
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
1.11.06
Hello-
I just narrowly escaped a marriage proposal by a Rwandese refugee…whose kindest words that he had to say to me were” I want mzungu” and “kwaggala nyo”…which means I love you a lot in Luganda.
Let me tell you a little bit about Rwandese refugees. Rwanda, in case you do not recall, was the small country that erupted into genocide in 1994. Well, where I left off the story then was when the Tutsi and Ugandan military in conjunction with Tutsi exiles/ refugees took over the country every hutu pretty much fled because they thought there was going to be a massacre on Hutus. Well there wasn’t, and the government currently is a combination tutsi and hutu. Most refugees that fled have gone back. The ones that stayed are the ones that fear going home because they face prison time and courts for the genocide period…these are the people I am supposed to help. They come up and whine at me “Madam! You see, I am suffering!” and I think in my head well maybe if you hadn’t murdered your neighbor. Yet these are the people who are getting interviews to go to America..i want to scream at UNHCR WHAT ARE YOU DOING SENDING THESE PEOPLE TO A “BETTER” place??? Send them to prison!!! Ach, pisses me off.
Work is in general the most frusterating place on the face of the planet. I get mad at the refugees because they are constantly whining at me, because my position is at the front desk, they think I am the magical key to all of their problems…they say but cant you help me? Things like that but I cant. Some people show up every twenty minutes and ask if they have been called…before even the UNHCR staff shows up, bah! But the staff at interaid are seriously the slowest most obnoxious people. The refugees sit outside in any kind of whether and are afraid to leave cause if their is name called and they are not there to hear it…well its too bad cause there’s about a bazillion people in line after them. UNHCR works like half days, and I register about 2 pages of people…UNHCR goes through a quarter…I dunno if its worse to turn them away or give them a glimmer of hope that ends up being smashed anyways. I can now say WAIT!! In about 800 languages including Swahili and Somali. I get to yell names like Jean-Paul! Etienne! Ruzabenga Habyarimana!! We deal with SOO MANY Congolese, Rwandese, Sudanese, Somalis, Eritreans, Ethiopians…all of Africa heads to Uganda it seems.
I spend my day kind of hating everyone, except the crazy guy at the desk next to me. Named Atim…or Otim, I really don’t know. He has a gut, and he asked me how he should loose weight…I told him he basically couldn’t eat any Ugandan food, which is all starch, and he should eat lots of fruits and vegetables. He asked me if it was ok to drink a lot of beer. I simply giggled and said not if he wanted to lose weight!
I have found a good restaurant to eat lunch at, it plays Indian music videos. I know absolutely no bit of anything that would even remotely resemble an Indian dialect, but one video today reminded me of Billy Joels “Uptown Girl” including a well dressed girl and some sketchy guys…it made me giggle out loud and the Africans looked at the crazy white girl in wonder.
Here’s a funny update about my name…Sharoni. Its hard for Africans to say stuff that doesn’t end in a vowel; at work I have noticed this a lot as people say skirti for skirt, cardi for id card, listie for list…I am now used to saying “cardi!” to people
I threw a halloween party last night; we carved a pumpkin, a watermelon, and we tried to carve a papaya, but that didn’t work out so well. We went bobbing for apples…but apples are expensive here so it was bobbing for passion fruit…I dressed as a tourist, a green Mzungu t-shirt and Uganda guide book and all. My roommate dressed as a lion, someone else came as a spiritual healer… yea we're crazy that’s all I can say. It felt good to something silly, and really I am so used to being stared at haha!
Well I have to go make dinner before my roommate gets home, so that we can eat before the power goes off…oh yes speaking of power…my apartment has a generator…but it is still difficult because the generator cannot support our fridge or water heater, so when the power goes I have to run around flicking switches so that the gen. Isn’t over loaded haha.
Also, my apartments water pressure…most of the time the sink doesn’t work so I end up using the bathing room shower faucet…its not a bathtub guys…to scrub things like passion fruit and potatoes….WHOO!
Ok, ciao!
Sharon
I just narrowly escaped a marriage proposal by a Rwandese refugee…whose kindest words that he had to say to me were” I want mzungu” and “kwaggala nyo”…which means I love you a lot in Luganda.
Let me tell you a little bit about Rwandese refugees. Rwanda, in case you do not recall, was the small country that erupted into genocide in 1994. Well, where I left off the story then was when the Tutsi and Ugandan military in conjunction with Tutsi exiles/ refugees took over the country every hutu pretty much fled because they thought there was going to be a massacre on Hutus. Well there wasn’t, and the government currently is a combination tutsi and hutu. Most refugees that fled have gone back. The ones that stayed are the ones that fear going home because they face prison time and courts for the genocide period…these are the people I am supposed to help. They come up and whine at me “Madam! You see, I am suffering!” and I think in my head well maybe if you hadn’t murdered your neighbor. Yet these are the people who are getting interviews to go to America..i want to scream at UNHCR WHAT ARE YOU DOING SENDING THESE PEOPLE TO A “BETTER” place??? Send them to prison!!! Ach, pisses me off.
Work is in general the most frusterating place on the face of the planet. I get mad at the refugees because they are constantly whining at me, because my position is at the front desk, they think I am the magical key to all of their problems…they say but cant you help me? Things like that but I cant. Some people show up every twenty minutes and ask if they have been called…before even the UNHCR staff shows up, bah! But the staff at interaid are seriously the slowest most obnoxious people. The refugees sit outside in any kind of whether and are afraid to leave cause if their is name called and they are not there to hear it…well its too bad cause there’s about a bazillion people in line after them. UNHCR works like half days, and I register about 2 pages of people…UNHCR goes through a quarter…I dunno if its worse to turn them away or give them a glimmer of hope that ends up being smashed anyways. I can now say WAIT!! In about 800 languages including Swahili and Somali. I get to yell names like Jean-Paul! Etienne! Ruzabenga Habyarimana!! We deal with SOO MANY Congolese, Rwandese, Sudanese, Somalis, Eritreans, Ethiopians…all of Africa heads to Uganda it seems.
I spend my day kind of hating everyone, except the crazy guy at the desk next to me. Named Atim…or Otim, I really don’t know. He has a gut, and he asked me how he should loose weight…I told him he basically couldn’t eat any Ugandan food, which is all starch, and he should eat lots of fruits and vegetables. He asked me if it was ok to drink a lot of beer. I simply giggled and said not if he wanted to lose weight!
I have found a good restaurant to eat lunch at, it plays Indian music videos. I know absolutely no bit of anything that would even remotely resemble an Indian dialect, but one video today reminded me of Billy Joels “Uptown Girl” including a well dressed girl and some sketchy guys…it made me giggle out loud and the Africans looked at the crazy white girl in wonder.
Here’s a funny update about my name…Sharoni. Its hard for Africans to say stuff that doesn’t end in a vowel; at work I have noticed this a lot as people say skirti for skirt, cardi for id card, listie for list…I am now used to saying “cardi!” to people
I threw a halloween party last night; we carved a pumpkin, a watermelon, and we tried to carve a papaya, but that didn’t work out so well. We went bobbing for apples…but apples are expensive here so it was bobbing for passion fruit…I dressed as a tourist, a green Mzungu t-shirt and Uganda guide book and all. My roommate dressed as a lion, someone else came as a spiritual healer… yea we're crazy that’s all I can say. It felt good to something silly, and really I am so used to being stared at haha!
Well I have to go make dinner before my roommate gets home, so that we can eat before the power goes off…oh yes speaking of power…my apartment has a generator…but it is still difficult because the generator cannot support our fridge or water heater, so when the power goes I have to run around flicking switches so that the gen. Isn’t over loaded haha.
Also, my apartments water pressure…most of the time the sink doesn’t work so I end up using the bathing room shower faucet…its not a bathtub guys…to scrub things like passion fruit and potatoes….WHOO!
Ok, ciao!
Sharon
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Oct 29
Hello everyone-
Just in case u were missing my long emails, I thought i would shoot you out another one! I have had a crazy two weeks and most of my internet time has involved researching refugee issues and polygamy…but heres a wee update:
I forgot to tell everyone about all of the funny questions that I was asked on the rural homestay. As previously mentioned I was with another person from my group, a boy named david. David has slightly dark hair, almost black. My homestay family thought we were from different countries because we had different color hair. I tried to explain that in America there are many colors of hair…trying to explain was probably the best, as there was nothing to compare it with, so I pointed to some dried straw thatch and tied to explain that it was a hair color…that was one of the best moments.
Last week I got in a fight with a Ugandan MP (member of parliament)…this shouldn’t surprise anyone. He was talking about the domestic relations bill. It is a bill that hs been on the table here in Uganda for twenty years. It deals with women’s rights and marriage issues, that sort of thing. This jerk was trying to talk about it and what a pity it was that it hasn’t been passed etc. I knew he was lying through his teeth, so I (with the backing of several female members of my group) asked him what he personally was doing to try and get the bill passed such as lobbing etc. Well he’s a politician so he sidestepped the question just as all politicians do. Then I started sputtering and yelling about the fact that the bill hasn’t been passed in twenty years and if all the boys just sat down and hammered something out it would be done…he didn’t like me so much by the end of the day…
Sunday I moved out of my homestay! I liked living with them, but I was also sick of being treated like I was six, so I was really excited. I moved into a flat above a restaurant, and what I didn’t know before is that there’s a bar next to it. It plays REALLY LOUD music at all hours of the day or night. It’s ok when I am showering, because then I have a little dance party for myself (one night they played a Madonna retro trilogy, and I was REALLY HAPPY). They also play Michael Jackson’s Thriller a lot. This means I stand on our front balcony which faces a semi busy street and do the thriller dance and scare Africans for about 4 minutes…yeas, my new apartment is awesome. What I think is funny about apartment shopping in Africa is that my standards are SOO different than they would be in America….basically I walked around asking if apartments had flush toilets, and that was all I cared about.
Cooking has been fun. There’s no freezer food , so I hang out at a local market…my really nice area is close to one of the worst slums in Kampala, and they have a market. We went and bought tons of bananas, potatoes, cabbage, passion fruit, carrots, and other various essentials for about UGSH 3,000…about USD$1.50…I am gonna die of freight back in America when I go to the grocery store. One night we made pasta arrabaiatta…I now live in a slightly white section of town…I don’t see a lot of whites unless I go into a bar or restaurant in the area, because they don’t walk anywhere they stay in the confines of their land rovers and stare blankly at the Africans. This week we also made dinner for some friends. Curry rice, fried curry chicken, fried potatoes, beans and bread for seven people on two burners…no oven. Let’s just say we ate in “courses” as in what’s done is what we are eating right now…ooh Africa. By the time I got to Americorps whatever housing I get is going to seem LUXURIOUS!
I also started working at a refugee agency in Kampala. Wow…Idd al-Fatir was Monday (Muslim holiday marking the end of fasting for ramaddan), so I worked tues through a half day Friday (last Fridays of the month are half days around here haha). Tuesday I worked at the front desk a bit and sat in on an English class. I got to explain the difference between “excuse me” and “I’m sorry” which are used interchangeably here. I also go to explain “I’m sorry.” All of these things are easy to act out…however when one boy asked me what behavior meant I had to think hard how to explain it in small enough words that beginners would understand. I love teaching English!
Wednesday I worked at the front desk only. I was really upset as this seems to be what they will have me doing for the first two weeks of my less than six week stay, so I wasn’t happy to begin with. Then around midday a Sudanese refugee started getting upset. He threw a temper tantrum, and several men had to come and restrain him, and haul him out the front door and across the compound where hordes of refugees wait for name to be called so they can come in and see whomever it is they want to see. Thursday I was almost murdered by a Congolese refugee who was absolutely wasted and decided to come in and yell that he was going to murder some Rwandese guy who had threatened him, He was going off on at the refugees waiting in the compound and they were visibly frightened as was I, even though I was behind some bars (the reception desk is behind a barred gate, which tells me that such occurrences happen often). He was running around without a shirt and stabbing at himself with a pen, although he was convinced that it was a gun. The Old Kampala (section of the city) Police force came out after one of the four guards that are permanently stationed at InterAid (also makes me feel weird) went and got them, and the guy was caught and placed in custody. Both men were sent back to refugee camps, because they are not allowed to stay in kampala if they are not registered with InterAid. Friday morning I was woken up at four AM, not by the bar surprisingly, but by chanting men. A HUGE group of males was running through the street chanting something and I could hear them long before they were anywhere near my flat, and long after they had passed. A small group of women followed after them chanting things. I have no I what was going on, although my roommate said it may have been military training.
Friday I got to do some interviews at work, concerning the registration of new clients (newly arrived refugees in Kampala have to register with interAid). I worked with a somali translator, and it was pretty cool. Then at about midday here I went to a Somali slum near where I work, and ate some Somali food. With my hands. That’s pretty normal here…but the food consisted of rice and pasta, so I spent most of my time watching how to do it and then trying not to spill all over my little polo and white skirt. Surprisingly I didn’t miss my face once! Then I spent the next several hours waiting to get my hands and feet tattooed/ actually getting them tattooed with henna. (Don’t worry mom and dad, henna means it wears off in a few months). Basically I have never felt so pretty in my life, because I have these gorgeous flowers all over myself. The gentlemen who own the restaurant saw me last night and freaked out at me and said I looked like an Indian…Indians and muslims get themselves hennad here, so yea. As if I didn’t get enough attention already I now have Africans screeching t me about my hands and feet.
Time in Uganda:
Time here is crazy. There are exactly 12 hours of daylight, and 12 of darkness. Daylight starts at seven, and is called the first hour (ssawa amu). So 10AM local time in really local time is actually 4…(ssawa nyaa akawungazee) which means directly time 4 morning…for 10 pm, it becomes time four night (achiro) Yea, its confusing alright.
NGO’s in Uganda:
I have given up faith on such things as the World bank, IMF, and even the UN prior to my arrival here. However now I feel like maybe Ngo’s aren’t really helping either. Everywhere I go people are always asking what can you do for me? How can you help me? People want ME to lobby for THEM…n I accurately know their problems?? They don’t think they will be heard…and the problem is they won’t because politicians are so goddamn corrupt that they have no incentive to help anyone. People aren’t willing to do anything to help themselves, whether its ousting the current political machine, or anything, and I think it has a lot to do with the fact thte people are always showing up and telling Africans that no no, they are doing everything wrong. The guy I sit next to at work tried to argue that everything in Uganda will be better once they are like America…I had to offer the opinion that Uganda is not America so why should it look like America? I told him that my house in America is stupid for Uganda, because it wouldn’t heat itself or cool itself like the mud and brick houses here do…He said they needed to get machines to sweep the streets (currently women just walk up and down streets sweeping all day, which I feel is really pointless concerning the amount of dust in this city but oh-well), but hwhen I said but if you have machine it only gives one person work, not many people like now…he thought about this for awhile and decided I might be right haha
The problem I have with NGOs here stems from this type of problem:
The Ugandan government does not pay any money for medical NG…hospitals, clinics anything. The idea of insurance doesn’t exist here except for the really rich, because 80% of Uganda is not employed by companies, they sit and sell airtime or fabric out of family shops…So the entire healthcare system is run off of donor funds. There is no incentive for the government to make the switch because really, why pay for something when you can get it for free. It leaves the whole government unaccountable…so Ngo’s will just keep on serving, and he Ugandan people will look to foreigners for donations. The problem is…should Ngo’s just pull out??!? And leave everyone to die of AIDS and such? There is no easy answer to any of the questions that are constantly buzzing through my head…
Well I have to go make myself some dinner and meet up with the SIT Kenya group (I am in Uganda, and so lots of other crazy Americans are gonna be in town, so I took it upon myself to show them around. But yea, ciao!!
Sharon
Just in case u were missing my long emails, I thought i would shoot you out another one! I have had a crazy two weeks and most of my internet time has involved researching refugee issues and polygamy…but heres a wee update:
I forgot to tell everyone about all of the funny questions that I was asked on the rural homestay. As previously mentioned I was with another person from my group, a boy named david. David has slightly dark hair, almost black. My homestay family thought we were from different countries because we had different color hair. I tried to explain that in America there are many colors of hair…trying to explain was probably the best, as there was nothing to compare it with, so I pointed to some dried straw thatch and tied to explain that it was a hair color…that was one of the best moments.
Last week I got in a fight with a Ugandan MP (member of parliament)…this shouldn’t surprise anyone. He was talking about the domestic relations bill. It is a bill that hs been on the table here in Uganda for twenty years. It deals with women’s rights and marriage issues, that sort of thing. This jerk was trying to talk about it and what a pity it was that it hasn’t been passed etc. I knew he was lying through his teeth, so I (with the backing of several female members of my group) asked him what he personally was doing to try and get the bill passed such as lobbing etc. Well he’s a politician so he sidestepped the question just as all politicians do. Then I started sputtering and yelling about the fact that the bill hasn’t been passed in twenty years and if all the boys just sat down and hammered something out it would be done…he didn’t like me so much by the end of the day…
Sunday I moved out of my homestay! I liked living with them, but I was also sick of being treated like I was six, so I was really excited. I moved into a flat above a restaurant, and what I didn’t know before is that there’s a bar next to it. It plays REALLY LOUD music at all hours of the day or night. It’s ok when I am showering, because then I have a little dance party for myself (one night they played a Madonna retro trilogy, and I was REALLY HAPPY). They also play Michael Jackson’s Thriller a lot. This means I stand on our front balcony which faces a semi busy street and do the thriller dance and scare Africans for about 4 minutes…yeas, my new apartment is awesome. What I think is funny about apartment shopping in Africa is that my standards are SOO different than they would be in America….basically I walked around asking if apartments had flush toilets, and that was all I cared about.
Cooking has been fun. There’s no freezer food , so I hang out at a local market…my really nice area is close to one of the worst slums in Kampala, and they have a market. We went and bought tons of bananas, potatoes, cabbage, passion fruit, carrots, and other various essentials for about UGSH 3,000…about USD$1.50…I am gonna die of freight back in America when I go to the grocery store. One night we made pasta arrabaiatta…I now live in a slightly white section of town…I don’t see a lot of whites unless I go into a bar or restaurant in the area, because they don’t walk anywhere they stay in the confines of their land rovers and stare blankly at the Africans. This week we also made dinner for some friends. Curry rice, fried curry chicken, fried potatoes, beans and bread for seven people on two burners…no oven. Let’s just say we ate in “courses” as in what’s done is what we are eating right now…ooh Africa. By the time I got to Americorps whatever housing I get is going to seem LUXURIOUS!
I also started working at a refugee agency in Kampala. Wow…Idd al-Fatir was Monday (Muslim holiday marking the end of fasting for ramaddan), so I worked tues through a half day Friday (last Fridays of the month are half days around here haha). Tuesday I worked at the front desk a bit and sat in on an English class. I got to explain the difference between “excuse me” and “I’m sorry” which are used interchangeably here. I also go to explain “I’m sorry.” All of these things are easy to act out…however when one boy asked me what behavior meant I had to think hard how to explain it in small enough words that beginners would understand. I love teaching English!
Wednesday I worked at the front desk only. I was really upset as this seems to be what they will have me doing for the first two weeks of my less than six week stay, so I wasn’t happy to begin with. Then around midday a Sudanese refugee started getting upset. He threw a temper tantrum, and several men had to come and restrain him, and haul him out the front door and across the compound where hordes of refugees wait for name to be called so they can come in and see whomever it is they want to see. Thursday I was almost murdered by a Congolese refugee who was absolutely wasted and decided to come in and yell that he was going to murder some Rwandese guy who had threatened him, He was going off on at the refugees waiting in the compound and they were visibly frightened as was I, even though I was behind some bars (the reception desk is behind a barred gate, which tells me that such occurrences happen often). He was running around without a shirt and stabbing at himself with a pen, although he was convinced that it was a gun. The Old Kampala (section of the city) Police force came out after one of the four guards that are permanently stationed at InterAid (also makes me feel weird) went and got them, and the guy was caught and placed in custody. Both men were sent back to refugee camps, because they are not allowed to stay in kampala if they are not registered with InterAid. Friday morning I was woken up at four AM, not by the bar surprisingly, but by chanting men. A HUGE group of males was running through the street chanting something and I could hear them long before they were anywhere near my flat, and long after they had passed. A small group of women followed after them chanting things. I have no I what was going on, although my roommate said it may have been military training.
Friday I got to do some interviews at work, concerning the registration of new clients (newly arrived refugees in Kampala have to register with interAid). I worked with a somali translator, and it was pretty cool. Then at about midday here I went to a Somali slum near where I work, and ate some Somali food. With my hands. That’s pretty normal here…but the food consisted of rice and pasta, so I spent most of my time watching how to do it and then trying not to spill all over my little polo and white skirt. Surprisingly I didn’t miss my face once! Then I spent the next several hours waiting to get my hands and feet tattooed/ actually getting them tattooed with henna. (Don’t worry mom and dad, henna means it wears off in a few months). Basically I have never felt so pretty in my life, because I have these gorgeous flowers all over myself. The gentlemen who own the restaurant saw me last night and freaked out at me and said I looked like an Indian…Indians and muslims get themselves hennad here, so yea. As if I didn’t get enough attention already I now have Africans screeching t me about my hands and feet.
Time in Uganda:
Time here is crazy. There are exactly 12 hours of daylight, and 12 of darkness. Daylight starts at seven, and is called the first hour (ssawa amu). So 10AM local time in really local time is actually 4…(ssawa nyaa akawungazee) which means directly time 4 morning…for 10 pm, it becomes time four night (achiro) Yea, its confusing alright.
NGO’s in Uganda:
I have given up faith on such things as the World bank, IMF, and even the UN prior to my arrival here. However now I feel like maybe Ngo’s aren’t really helping either. Everywhere I go people are always asking what can you do for me? How can you help me? People want ME to lobby for THEM…n I accurately know their problems?? They don’t think they will be heard…and the problem is they won’t because politicians are so goddamn corrupt that they have no incentive to help anyone. People aren’t willing to do anything to help themselves, whether its ousting the current political machine, or anything, and I think it has a lot to do with the fact thte people are always showing up and telling Africans that no no, they are doing everything wrong. The guy I sit next to at work tried to argue that everything in Uganda will be better once they are like America…I had to offer the opinion that Uganda is not America so why should it look like America? I told him that my house in America is stupid for Uganda, because it wouldn’t heat itself or cool itself like the mud and brick houses here do…He said they needed to get machines to sweep the streets (currently women just walk up and down streets sweeping all day, which I feel is really pointless concerning the amount of dust in this city but oh-well), but hwhen I said but if you have machine it only gives one person work, not many people like now…he thought about this for awhile and decided I might be right haha
The problem I have with NGOs here stems from this type of problem:
The Ugandan government does not pay any money for medical NG…hospitals, clinics anything. The idea of insurance doesn’t exist here except for the really rich, because 80% of Uganda is not employed by companies, they sit and sell airtime or fabric out of family shops…So the entire healthcare system is run off of donor funds. There is no incentive for the government to make the switch because really, why pay for something when you can get it for free. It leaves the whole government unaccountable…so Ngo’s will just keep on serving, and he Ugandan people will look to foreigners for donations. The problem is…should Ngo’s just pull out??!? And leave everyone to die of AIDS and such? There is no easy answer to any of the questions that are constantly buzzing through my head…
Well I have to go make myself some dinner and meet up with the SIT Kenya group (I am in Uganda, and so lots of other crazy Americans are gonna be in town, so I took it upon myself to show them around. But yea, ciao!!
Sharon
October 29
Hello everyone-
Just in case u were missing my long emails, I thought i would shoot you out another one! I have had a crazy two weeks and most of my internet time has involved researching refugee issues and polygamy…but heres a wee update:
I forgot to tell everyone about all of the funny questions that I was asked on the rural homestay. As previously mentioned I was with another person from my group, a boy named david. David has slightly dark hair, almost black. My homestay family thought we were from different countries because we had different color hair. I tried to explain that in America there are many colors of hair…trying to explain the color "blond" was probably the best, as there was nothing to compare it with, so I pointed to some dried straw thatch and tied to explain that it was a hair color…Now there are a bunch of rural Ugandans who think that people in America have straw for hair. That was one of the best moments.
Last week I got in a fight with a Ugandan MP (member of parliament)…this shouldn’t surprise anyone. He was talking about the domestic relations bill. It is a bill that has been on the table here in Uganda for twenty years. It deals with women’s rights and marriage issues, that sort of thing. This jerk was trying to talk about it and what a pity it was that it hasn’t been passed etc. I knew he was lying through his teeth, so I (with the backing of several female members of my group) asked him what he personally was doing to try and get the bill passed such as lobbing etc. Well he’s a politician so he sidestepped the question just as all politicians do. Then I started sputtering and yelling about the fact that the bill hasn’t been passed in twenty years and if all the boys just sat down and hammered something out it would be done…he didn’t like me so much by the end of the day…
Sunday I moved out of my homestay! I liked living with them, but I was also sick of being treated like I was six, so I was really excited. I moved into a flat above a restaurant, and what I didn’t know before is that there’s a bar next to it. It plays REALLY LOUD music at all hours of the day or night. It’s ok when I am showering, because then I have a little dance party for myself (one night they played a Madonna retro trilogy, and I was REALLY HAPPY). They also play Michael Jackson’s Thriller a lot. This means I stand on our front balcony which faces a semi busy street and do the thriller dance and scare Africans for about 4 minutes…yes, my new apartment is awesome. What I think is funny about apartment shopping in Africa is that my standards are SOO different than they would be in America….basically I walked around asking if apartments had flush toilets, and that was all I cared about.
Cooking has been fun. There’s no freezer food , so I hang out at a local market…my really nice area is close to one of the worst slums in Kampala, and they have a market. We went and bought tons of bananas, potatoes, cabbage, passion fruit, carrots, and other various essentials for about UGSH 3,000…about USD$1.50…I am gonna die of freight back in America when I go to the grocery store. One night we made pasta arrabaiatta…I now live in a slightly white section of town…I don’t see a lot of whites unless I go into a bar or restaurant in the area, because they don’t walk anywhere they stay in the confines of their land rovers and stare blankly at the Africans. This week we also made dinner for some friends. Curry rice, fried curry chicken, fried potatoes, beans and bread for seven people on two burners…no oven. Let’s just say we ate in “courses” as in what’s done is what we are eating right now…ooh Africa. By the time I got to Americorps whatever housing I get is going to seem LUXURIOUS!
I also started working at a refugee agency in Kampala. Wow…Idd al-Fatir was Monday (Muslim holiday marking the end of fasting for ramaddan), so I worked tues through a half day Friday (last Fridays of the month are half days around here haha). Tuesday I worked at the front desk a bit and sat in on an English class. I got to explain the difference between “excuse me” and “I’m sorry” which are used interchangeably here. I also go to explain “I’m sorry.” All of these things are easy to act out…however when one boy asked me what behavior meant I had to think hard how to explain it in small enough words that beginners would understand. I love teaching English!
Wednesday I worked at the front desk only. I was really upset as this seems to be what they will have me doing for the first two weeks of my less than six week stay, so I wasn’t happy to begin with. Then around midday a Sudanese refugee started getting upset. He threw a temper tantrum, and several men had to come and restrain him, and haul him out the front door and across the compound where hordes of refugees wait for their name to be called so they can come in and see whomever it is they want to see. Thursday I was almost murdered by a Congolese refugee who was absolutely wasted and decided to come in and yell that he was going to murder some Rwandese guy who had threatened him, He was going off on at the refugees waiting in the compound and they were visibly frightened as was I, even though I was behind some bars (the reception desk is behind a barred gate, which tells me that such occurrences happen often). He was running around without a shirt and stabbing at himself with a pen, although he was convinced that it was a gun. The Old Kampala (section of the city) Police force came out after one of the four guards that are permanently stationed at InterAid (also makes me feel weird) went and got them, and the guy was caught and placed in custody. Both men were sent back to refugee camps, because they are not allowed to stay in kampala if they are not registered with InterAid. Friday morning I was woken up at four AM, not by the bar surprisingly, but by chanting men. A HUGE group of males was running through the street chanting something and I could hear them long before they were anywhere near my flat, and long after they had passed. A small group of women followed after them chanting things. I have no I what was going on, although my roommate said it may have been military training.
Friday I got to do some interviews at work, concerning the registration of new clients (newly arrived refugees in Kampala have to register with interAid). I worked with a somali translator, and it was pretty cool. Then at about midday here I went to a Somali slum near where I work, and ate some Somali food. With my hands. That’s pretty normal here…but the food consisted of rice and pasta, so I spent most of my time watching how to do it and then trying not to spill all over my little polo and white skirt. Surprisingly I didn’t miss my face once! Then I spent the next several hours waiting to get my hands and feet tattooed/ actually getting them tattooed with henna. (Don’t worry mom and dad, henna means it wears off in a few months). Basically I have never felt so pretty in my life, because I have these gorgeous flowers all over myself. The gentlemen who own the restaurant saw me last night and freaked out at me and said I looked like an Indian…Indians and muslims get themselves hennad here, so yea. As if I didn’t get enough attention already I now have Africans screeching at me about my hands and feet.
Time in Uganda:
Time here is crazy. There are exactly 12 hours of daylight, and 12 of darkness. Daylight starts at seven, and is called the first hour (ssawa amu). So 10AM local time in really local time is actually 4…(ssawa nyaa akawungazee) which means directly time 4 morning…for 10 pm, it becomes time four night (achiro) Yea, its confusing alright.
NGO’s in Uganda:
I have given up faith on such things as the World bank, IMF, and even the UN prior to my arrival here. However now I feel like maybe NGO’s aren’t really helping either. Everywhere I go people are always asking what can you do for me? How can you help me? People want ME to lobby for THEM…How can I accurately know their problems?? They don’t think they will be heard…and the problem is they won’t because politicians are so goddamn corrupt that they have no incentive to help anyone. People aren’t willing to do anything to help themselves, whether its ousting the current political machine, or anything, and I think it has a lot to do with the fact that people are always showing up and telling Africans that no no, they are doing everything wrong. The guy I sit next to at work tried to argue that everything in Uganda will be better once they are like America…I had to offer the opinion that Uganda is not America so why should it look like America? I told him that my house in America is stupid for Uganda, because it wouldn’t heat itself or cool itself like the mud and brick houses here do…He said they needed to get machines to sweep the streets (currently women just walk up and down streets sweeping all day, which I feel is really pointless concerning the amount of dust in this city but oh-well), but when I said but if you have machine it only gives one person work, not many people like now…he thought about this for awhile and decided I might be right haha
The problem I have with NGOs here stems from this type of problem:
The Ugandan government does not pay any money for medical ANYTHING…hospitals, clinics anything. The idea of insurance doesn’t exist here except for the really rich, because 80% of Uganda is not employed by companies, they sit and sell airtime or fabric out of family shops…So the entire healthcare system is run off of donor funds. There is no incentive for the government to make the switch because really, why pay for something when you can get it for free. It leaves the whole government unaccountable…so NGO’s will just keep on serving, and the Ugandan people will look to foreigners for donations. The problem is…should NGO’s just pull out??!? And leave everyone to die of AIDS and such? There is no easy answer to any of the questions that are constantly buzzing through my head…
Well I have to go make myself some dinner and meet up with the SIT Kenya group (I am in Uganda, and so lots of other crazy Americans are gonna be in town, so I took it upon myself to show them around. But yea, ciao!!
Sharon
Just in case u were missing my long emails, I thought i would shoot you out another one! I have had a crazy two weeks and most of my internet time has involved researching refugee issues and polygamy…but heres a wee update:
I forgot to tell everyone about all of the funny questions that I was asked on the rural homestay. As previously mentioned I was with another person from my group, a boy named david. David has slightly dark hair, almost black. My homestay family thought we were from different countries because we had different color hair. I tried to explain that in America there are many colors of hair…trying to explain the color "blond" was probably the best, as there was nothing to compare it with, so I pointed to some dried straw thatch and tied to explain that it was a hair color…Now there are a bunch of rural Ugandans who think that people in America have straw for hair. That was one of the best moments.
Last week I got in a fight with a Ugandan MP (member of parliament)…this shouldn’t surprise anyone. He was talking about the domestic relations bill. It is a bill that has been on the table here in Uganda for twenty years. It deals with women’s rights and marriage issues, that sort of thing. This jerk was trying to talk about it and what a pity it was that it hasn’t been passed etc. I knew he was lying through his teeth, so I (with the backing of several female members of my group) asked him what he personally was doing to try and get the bill passed such as lobbing etc. Well he’s a politician so he sidestepped the question just as all politicians do. Then I started sputtering and yelling about the fact that the bill hasn’t been passed in twenty years and if all the boys just sat down and hammered something out it would be done…he didn’t like me so much by the end of the day…
Sunday I moved out of my homestay! I liked living with them, but I was also sick of being treated like I was six, so I was really excited. I moved into a flat above a restaurant, and what I didn’t know before is that there’s a bar next to it. It plays REALLY LOUD music at all hours of the day or night. It’s ok when I am showering, because then I have a little dance party for myself (one night they played a Madonna retro trilogy, and I was REALLY HAPPY). They also play Michael Jackson’s Thriller a lot. This means I stand on our front balcony which faces a semi busy street and do the thriller dance and scare Africans for about 4 minutes…yes, my new apartment is awesome. What I think is funny about apartment shopping in Africa is that my standards are SOO different than they would be in America….basically I walked around asking if apartments had flush toilets, and that was all I cared about.
Cooking has been fun. There’s no freezer food , so I hang out at a local market…my really nice area is close to one of the worst slums in Kampala, and they have a market. We went and bought tons of bananas, potatoes, cabbage, passion fruit, carrots, and other various essentials for about UGSH 3,000…about USD$1.50…I am gonna die of freight back in America when I go to the grocery store. One night we made pasta arrabaiatta…I now live in a slightly white section of town…I don’t see a lot of whites unless I go into a bar or restaurant in the area, because they don’t walk anywhere they stay in the confines of their land rovers and stare blankly at the Africans. This week we also made dinner for some friends. Curry rice, fried curry chicken, fried potatoes, beans and bread for seven people on two burners…no oven. Let’s just say we ate in “courses” as in what’s done is what we are eating right now…ooh Africa. By the time I got to Americorps whatever housing I get is going to seem LUXURIOUS!
I also started working at a refugee agency in Kampala. Wow…Idd al-Fatir was Monday (Muslim holiday marking the end of fasting for ramaddan), so I worked tues through a half day Friday (last Fridays of the month are half days around here haha). Tuesday I worked at the front desk a bit and sat in on an English class. I got to explain the difference between “excuse me” and “I’m sorry” which are used interchangeably here. I also go to explain “I’m sorry.” All of these things are easy to act out…however when one boy asked me what behavior meant I had to think hard how to explain it in small enough words that beginners would understand. I love teaching English!
Wednesday I worked at the front desk only. I was really upset as this seems to be what they will have me doing for the first two weeks of my less than six week stay, so I wasn’t happy to begin with. Then around midday a Sudanese refugee started getting upset. He threw a temper tantrum, and several men had to come and restrain him, and haul him out the front door and across the compound where hordes of refugees wait for their name to be called so they can come in and see whomever it is they want to see. Thursday I was almost murdered by a Congolese refugee who was absolutely wasted and decided to come in and yell that he was going to murder some Rwandese guy who had threatened him, He was going off on at the refugees waiting in the compound and they were visibly frightened as was I, even though I was behind some bars (the reception desk is behind a barred gate, which tells me that such occurrences happen often). He was running around without a shirt and stabbing at himself with a pen, although he was convinced that it was a gun. The Old Kampala (section of the city) Police force came out after one of the four guards that are permanently stationed at InterAid (also makes me feel weird) went and got them, and the guy was caught and placed in custody. Both men were sent back to refugee camps, because they are not allowed to stay in kampala if they are not registered with InterAid. Friday morning I was woken up at four AM, not by the bar surprisingly, but by chanting men. A HUGE group of males was running through the street chanting something and I could hear them long before they were anywhere near my flat, and long after they had passed. A small group of women followed after them chanting things. I have no I what was going on, although my roommate said it may have been military training.
Friday I got to do some interviews at work, concerning the registration of new clients (newly arrived refugees in Kampala have to register with interAid). I worked with a somali translator, and it was pretty cool. Then at about midday here I went to a Somali slum near where I work, and ate some Somali food. With my hands. That’s pretty normal here…but the food consisted of rice and pasta, so I spent most of my time watching how to do it and then trying not to spill all over my little polo and white skirt. Surprisingly I didn’t miss my face once! Then I spent the next several hours waiting to get my hands and feet tattooed/ actually getting them tattooed with henna. (Don’t worry mom and dad, henna means it wears off in a few months). Basically I have never felt so pretty in my life, because I have these gorgeous flowers all over myself. The gentlemen who own the restaurant saw me last night and freaked out at me and said I looked like an Indian…Indians and muslims get themselves hennad here, so yea. As if I didn’t get enough attention already I now have Africans screeching at me about my hands and feet.
Time in Uganda:
Time here is crazy. There are exactly 12 hours of daylight, and 12 of darkness. Daylight starts at seven, and is called the first hour (ssawa amu). So 10AM local time in really local time is actually 4…(ssawa nyaa akawungazee) which means directly time 4 morning…for 10 pm, it becomes time four night (achiro) Yea, its confusing alright.
NGO’s in Uganda:
I have given up faith on such things as the World bank, IMF, and even the UN prior to my arrival here. However now I feel like maybe NGO’s aren’t really helping either. Everywhere I go people are always asking what can you do for me? How can you help me? People want ME to lobby for THEM…How can I accurately know their problems?? They don’t think they will be heard…and the problem is they won’t because politicians are so goddamn corrupt that they have no incentive to help anyone. People aren’t willing to do anything to help themselves, whether its ousting the current political machine, or anything, and I think it has a lot to do with the fact that people are always showing up and telling Africans that no no, they are doing everything wrong. The guy I sit next to at work tried to argue that everything in Uganda will be better once they are like America…I had to offer the opinion that Uganda is not America so why should it look like America? I told him that my house in America is stupid for Uganda, because it wouldn’t heat itself or cool itself like the mud and brick houses here do…He said they needed to get machines to sweep the streets (currently women just walk up and down streets sweeping all day, which I feel is really pointless concerning the amount of dust in this city but oh-well), but when I said but if you have machine it only gives one person work, not many people like now…he thought about this for awhile and decided I might be right haha
The problem I have with NGOs here stems from this type of problem:
The Ugandan government does not pay any money for medical ANYTHING…hospitals, clinics anything. The idea of insurance doesn’t exist here except for the really rich, because 80% of Uganda is not employed by companies, they sit and sell airtime or fabric out of family shops…So the entire healthcare system is run off of donor funds. There is no incentive for the government to make the switch because really, why pay for something when you can get it for free. It leaves the whole government unaccountable…so NGO’s will just keep on serving, and the Ugandan people will look to foreigners for donations. The problem is…should NGO’s just pull out??!? And leave everyone to die of AIDS and such? There is no easy answer to any of the questions that are constantly buzzing through my head…
Well I have to go make myself some dinner and meet up with the SIT Kenya group (I am in Uganda, and so lots of other crazy Americans are gonna be in town, so I took it upon myself to show them around. But yea, ciao!!
Sharon
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
oct 16
Hello all…surprise! I am not dead!
I have been gone this past week on one of those crazy trips. This time we went to Mbale and Busia in the Eastern section of the country. Sunday through Wednesday morning saw my group trekking through the Eastern Mountains in the shadow of Uganda's tallest mountain, Mount Elgon. We stayed in a camp in Sippi Falls, and went hiking through the forest to probably one of the prettiest waterfalls I have ever seen. We also went spelunking, and unlike Wisconsin's Eagle Cave (oooh girlscouts…), this one had spiders and weird things crawling all over it. I still went down into the depths crawling through mud to some back cavern, accompanied by children while I wondered where their parents were, and why they allowed them to do such dangerous things unaccompanied. The children here are so much more…independent? Resilient? Than kids back home. They play with knives, rarely cry, if they do cry, no one picks them up so they learn to deal with issues on their own at a very young age. Obviously the kids aren't actually "different" they are just socialized differently, but it is interesting to see. When the power goes out no one makes a fuss or cries. It's just what they deal with daily. I think that if I treated a child in America how African mothers treat their children, it might be called neglect…but really, I think its kind of better, because you don't have crying babies and whiney, bratty kids…
Anyways, back on topic…Basically the point of this excursion was to compare the development in the East with conditions in the West, as well as living with a rural family for several days. On Wednesday me and a boy from our group named David were dropped off at a collection of small huts near Busia, in Busitema sub county. I know I say this a lot, but really I don't know what other words to use. Basically it was another "wow" experience. When we arrived, our driver casually mentioned that the man I would call "father" for the next several days had five wives, after which our "father" (James) hustled us off to the "center;" the local trading and drinking establishment. David and I sat around a pot of warm millet brew, drinking out of hallowed out sticks. It was easy to not drink too much, as the brew tasted disgusting. They also bought us some local Wrangi, a drink that you can buy triple distilled from stores in the city, but out in Busia the women brew it up behind their grass thatch huts, and I have read that it can be deadly if it is not distilled enough times. Yea I drank that.
The point of our staying in a rural setting was not only to learn about how rural peoples live, but I had to do a research project. David chose how the local people identify themselves (ie as a Ugandan, by their tribe or something else), and I chose Polygamy. We had to set up focus groups, talk to "politicians," but not the politicians you are thinking of. Each village (I stayed in a parish with seven villages) has an LC1, local council first level. This elected official is supposed to solve local disputes and lead the community, but basically just takes a lot of bribes.
For my topic it was important to hire a female translator (out in the rural areas people do not know as much, if any, English), because women in the presence of males tend to lie about their feelings. Polygamy was very prominent in my parish, and I found a woman (my "neighbor" whose English was excellent, but it was hard for her to explain to her husband why she needed to go with me instead of work in the fields. So I consequently interviewed a small number of females (mostly those who stopped by her compound while I was there hanging about). I became close to her (she called herself Faith), and she and the other wife begged me to stay and become their husbands fifth wife. I had to say it was tempting…not really though. I kind of want slightly more freedom in my life…I am certain you all understand. The second day into my rural homestay I went on a five hour hike through the seven villages. No shade. I am now a dark color on my arms and the tops of my feet. The rest of me is as white as the day I was born, which let me tell you, seems REALLY white over here. We were spending so much time walking David and I were getting nervous as to when we would find time to do our necessary interviews (I had not yet begun to hang around Faith's compound), but that night our host father took us back to the "center" and several men joined in our millet brew drink (they just threw their sticks in!)and so we began interviewing them. Interviewing a bunch of slightly intoxicated Africans as to the reasons why they are polygamous and about their condom use is a funny adventure. Many answered that they had many women because they wanted many children…which I find to be amusing because they don't actually help with them at all, just sort of make them smile a bit after they come home from hanging around somewhere all day but before they go to the center. Women did the field work, the house cleaning, cooking, rearing, birthing, fetching water…you name it they do it. And the men? Umm they sat around all day. Literally did nothing. Originally I was going to study labor divisions between genders, but the polygamy was too interesting. It's something I hadn't really ever talked to anyone about, as I did not know any polygamous families personally. Extramarital affairs certainly, but not the women all sitting around together at night nursing one another's children.
Lets talk about bath time while I was in Busia. They put a nice bucket of warm water out and a burlap sack for me to stand on, and there was some soap as well. I was impressed. The girl who originally escorted me to bath time was still standing with me, so I had a little pep talk about how nudity is nothing and slowly started undressing hoping that perhaps she would leave. Nope! I hunched as much as it was possible to hunch and threw some water on my arms feet and hair and quickly watched visible parts then threw my clothes back on and went inside only slightly embarrassed. Night two was even funnier/ more embarrassing. After I bathed I was putting on my underwear and the girl, my "sister," came over and started smoothing out the edges of my panties. I made a face of discomfort into my towel and gave a nervous giggle then threw on my clothes as quickly as possible. David, who did not get an audience for his bathing sessions, thought my stories were hilarious. It's funny, I agree, but still it was a little unnerving. My third and final bath involved two of my sisters watching me, but I figured there was no way it could get worse, and it didn't.
Friday, the third day, saw me and David sitting around a lot. At lunch time someone handed me a live chicken, and with the hand that wasn't holding a machete, motioned me to follow them. We arrived at a grove of trees at the edge of the compound, and she handed me the machete. I stared at her blankly and when she finally realized that I didn't understand the exact process that I needed to go through, she took the chicken placed it on a clump of leaves stood on the wings grabbed the beak shut and ripped out the feathers on the neck. I clearly knew what was coming, and stood around to watch. She slit the throat with a very dull knife so the chicken clearly suffered a lot, and there was a lot of blood. I was ok with it though. She then took the chicken, dangly head, feathers and all, and threw it into a pot on the fire. Mmm, lunch! Actually it wasn't just lunch, but it was dinner and breakfast too. Every part including the feet came across our plates. David was slightly more adventurous than I, and ate things like the kidneys…I stuck with what I could call "meat." We ate a lot of millet during our stay…at least I did until I saw a pig eating out of the people bowl. After that, I couldn't stomach the gelatinous brown glob anymore, and David and I rationed the food somewhat, so that I ate all of the bananas (which he hates), and he ate the millet. It worked out well.
Saturday came and it was time for us to leave. James kept asking for our stuff, specifically David's shoes. I had given away a skirt the night before, which turned out badly because then every girl wanted a skirt. SIT gave each family 100,000 UGA Shillings (about 50 USD), so it was annoying being asked. Especially since I knew the dad was just going to spend it on booze or acquiring a new wife anyways. By 11 AM we had walked over 7 KM, or about 4-ish miles. It was hot…and did I mention that my home stay was located in a baboon forest? We kept hearing them in the brush on the side of the road, and only saw them from a distance. Later in the day, after I had gotten back to the hotel (our rendezvous point), and after I had taken a PRIVATE shower, the 16 members of my group piled into one van (a 15 passenger one) and went to Kenya. Illegally. Our driver payed some border guards (I SERIOUSLY wasn't lying when I said that my parents money goes to paying fro bribes…). We just went across changed some money, had a soda, and I got a rolex (an omlette in some Indian bread), and it was basically just like Uganda, except instead of speaking Kisamyir, as they had in my village, everyone spoke Kiswahili…which everyone in America calls Swahili.
In more personal news, I got an internship today! I will be staying in Kampala, working with InterAid, an agency that helps urban refugees. I will probably be there five out of the six weeks, and then go and live in a refugee camp for a week. I am really excited! My boss, a man by the name of Francis was really funny this morning. A secretary led me to his office, and when I greeted him in Luganda, she asked him how I knew to speak it. He answered that I was a muganda, even though my nose is smaller than everyone else's. I thought it was really cute and nice. A muganda, by the way, is a person of the main ethnic group in Kampala, the Buganda. So a Muganda comes the Buganda tribe, and speaks Luganda…all in the country of Uganda. It's exciting to say out loud.
Well, thanks for reading!
Sharon
PS- if anyone wants my paper on polygamy when its finished, just write me and I will send it to you later this week (as in towards the end). I do not know if it will fit into anyone's lesson plans, but the offer is there.
I have been gone this past week on one of those crazy trips. This time we went to Mbale and Busia in the Eastern section of the country. Sunday through Wednesday morning saw my group trekking through the Eastern Mountains in the shadow of Uganda's tallest mountain, Mount Elgon. We stayed in a camp in Sippi Falls, and went hiking through the forest to probably one of the prettiest waterfalls I have ever seen. We also went spelunking, and unlike Wisconsin's Eagle Cave (oooh girlscouts…), this one had spiders and weird things crawling all over it. I still went down into the depths crawling through mud to some back cavern, accompanied by children while I wondered where their parents were, and why they allowed them to do such dangerous things unaccompanied. The children here are so much more…independent? Resilient? Than kids back home. They play with knives, rarely cry, if they do cry, no one picks them up so they learn to deal with issues on their own at a very young age. Obviously the kids aren't actually "different" they are just socialized differently, but it is interesting to see. When the power goes out no one makes a fuss or cries. It's just what they deal with daily. I think that if I treated a child in America how African mothers treat their children, it might be called neglect…but really, I think its kind of better, because you don't have crying babies and whiney, bratty kids…
Anyways, back on topic…Basically the point of this excursion was to compare the development in the East with conditions in the West, as well as living with a rural family for several days. On Wednesday me and a boy from our group named David were dropped off at a collection of small huts near Busia, in Busitema sub county. I know I say this a lot, but really I don't know what other words to use. Basically it was another "wow" experience. When we arrived, our driver casually mentioned that the man I would call "father" for the next several days had five wives, after which our "father" (James) hustled us off to the "center;" the local trading and drinking establishment. David and I sat around a pot of warm millet brew, drinking out of hallowed out sticks. It was easy to not drink too much, as the brew tasted disgusting. They also bought us some local Wrangi, a drink that you can buy triple distilled from stores in the city, but out in Busia the women brew it up behind their grass thatch huts, and I have read that it can be deadly if it is not distilled enough times. Yea I drank that.
The point of our staying in a rural setting was not only to learn about how rural peoples live, but I had to do a research project. David chose how the local people identify themselves (ie as a Ugandan, by their tribe or something else), and I chose Polygamy. We had to set up focus groups, talk to "politicians," but not the politicians you are thinking of. Each village (I stayed in a parish with seven villages) has an LC1, local council first level. This elected official is supposed to solve local disputes and lead the community, but basically just takes a lot of bribes.
For my topic it was important to hire a female translator (out in the rural areas people do not know as much, if any, English), because women in the presence of males tend to lie about their feelings. Polygamy was very prominent in my parish, and I found a woman (my "neighbor" whose English was excellent, but it was hard for her to explain to her husband why she needed to go with me instead of work in the fields. So I consequently interviewed a small number of females (mostly those who stopped by her compound while I was there hanging about). I became close to her (she called herself Faith), and she and the other wife begged me to stay and become their husbands fifth wife. I had to say it was tempting…not really though. I kind of want slightly more freedom in my life…I am certain you all understand. The second day into my rural homestay I went on a five hour hike through the seven villages. No shade. I am now a dark color on my arms and the tops of my feet. The rest of me is as white as the day I was born, which let me tell you, seems REALLY white over here. We were spending so much time walking David and I were getting nervous as to when we would find time to do our necessary interviews (I had not yet begun to hang around Faith's compound), but that night our host father took us back to the "center" and several men joined in our millet brew drink (they just threw their sticks in!)and so we began interviewing them. Interviewing a bunch of slightly intoxicated Africans as to the reasons why they are polygamous and about their condom use is a funny adventure. Many answered that they had many women because they wanted many children…which I find to be amusing because they don't actually help with them at all, just sort of make them smile a bit after they come home from hanging around somewhere all day but before they go to the center. Women did the field work, the house cleaning, cooking, rearing, birthing, fetching water…you name it they do it. And the men? Umm they sat around all day. Literally did nothing. Originally I was going to study labor divisions between genders, but the polygamy was too interesting. It's something I hadn't really ever talked to anyone about, as I did not know any polygamous families personally. Extramarital affairs certainly, but not the women all sitting around together at night nursing one another's children.
Lets talk about bath time while I was in Busia. They put a nice bucket of warm water out and a burlap sack for me to stand on, and there was some soap as well. I was impressed. The girl who originally escorted me to bath time was still standing with me, so I had a little pep talk about how nudity is nothing and slowly started undressing hoping that perhaps she would leave. Nope! I hunched as much as it was possible to hunch and threw some water on my arms feet and hair and quickly watched visible parts then threw my clothes back on and went inside only slightly embarrassed. Night two was even funnier/ more embarrassing. After I bathed I was putting on my underwear and the girl, my "sister," came over and started smoothing out the edges of my panties. I made a face of discomfort into my towel and gave a nervous giggle then threw on my clothes as quickly as possible. David, who did not get an audience for his bathing sessions, thought my stories were hilarious. It's funny, I agree, but still it was a little unnerving. My third and final bath involved two of my sisters watching me, but I figured there was no way it could get worse, and it didn't.
Friday, the third day, saw me and David sitting around a lot. At lunch time someone handed me a live chicken, and with the hand that wasn't holding a machete, motioned me to follow them. We arrived at a grove of trees at the edge of the compound, and she handed me the machete. I stared at her blankly and when she finally realized that I didn't understand the exact process that I needed to go through, she took the chicken placed it on a clump of leaves stood on the wings grabbed the beak shut and ripped out the feathers on the neck. I clearly knew what was coming, and stood around to watch. She slit the throat with a very dull knife so the chicken clearly suffered a lot, and there was a lot of blood. I was ok with it though. She then took the chicken, dangly head, feathers and all, and threw it into a pot on the fire. Mmm, lunch! Actually it wasn't just lunch, but it was dinner and breakfast too. Every part including the feet came across our plates. David was slightly more adventurous than I, and ate things like the kidneys…I stuck with what I could call "meat." We ate a lot of millet during our stay…at least I did until I saw a pig eating out of the people bowl. After that, I couldn't stomach the gelatinous brown glob anymore, and David and I rationed the food somewhat, so that I ate all of the bananas (which he hates), and he ate the millet. It worked out well.
Saturday came and it was time for us to leave. James kept asking for our stuff, specifically David's shoes. I had given away a skirt the night before, which turned out badly because then every girl wanted a skirt. SIT gave each family 100,000 UGA Shillings (about 50 USD), so it was annoying being asked. Especially since I knew the dad was just going to spend it on booze or acquiring a new wife anyways. By 11 AM we had walked over 7 KM, or about 4-ish miles. It was hot…and did I mention that my home stay was located in a baboon forest? We kept hearing them in the brush on the side of the road, and only saw them from a distance. Later in the day, after I had gotten back to the hotel (our rendezvous point), and after I had taken a PRIVATE shower, the 16 members of my group piled into one van (a 15 passenger one) and went to Kenya. Illegally. Our driver payed some border guards (I SERIOUSLY wasn't lying when I said that my parents money goes to paying fro bribes…). We just went across changed some money, had a soda, and I got a rolex (an omlette in some Indian bread), and it was basically just like Uganda, except instead of speaking Kisamyir, as they had in my village, everyone spoke Kiswahili…which everyone in America calls Swahili.
In more personal news, I got an internship today! I will be staying in Kampala, working with InterAid, an agency that helps urban refugees. I will probably be there five out of the six weeks, and then go and live in a refugee camp for a week. I am really excited! My boss, a man by the name of Francis was really funny this morning. A secretary led me to his office, and when I greeted him in Luganda, she asked him how I knew to speak it. He answered that I was a muganda, even though my nose is smaller than everyone else's. I thought it was really cute and nice. A muganda, by the way, is a person of the main ethnic group in Kampala, the Buganda. So a Muganda comes the Buganda tribe, and speaks Luganda…all in the country of Uganda. It's exciting to say out loud.
Well, thanks for reading!
Sharon
PS- if anyone wants my paper on polygamy when its finished, just write me and I will send it to you later this week (as in towards the end). I do not know if it will fit into anyone's lesson plans, but the offer is there.
Oct 1
Hmm, well this has been a good week for all of us crazy Americans out here in Africa I think. We were all actually very excited to get back to Kampala, which surprised us, but it is something we are familiar with now, so it was exciting to come back and actually know what was going on (sort of).
Well as I promised a week ago, here are some fun tidbits about Uganda:
Well as I promised a week ago, here are some fun tidbits about Uganda:
- 60 degrees F hits here and people walk around in down coats…the kind we wear in the middle of winter. Its amusing walking around knowing that I am in Africa, and yet seeing people wear such things (as I walk around in a t-shirt)…
- When I came back from Rwanda, my host mother and host auntie told me how back in 1994 people around here couldn't/didn't eat fish, because the bodies from the genocide were thrown into water systems and the fish fed on the bodies, so if you didn't want to indirectly eat people you had to cut that out of your diet. Its something I hadn't considered before. Also, I did go to the Hotel des Milles Collienes,the setting for the recent movie "hotel Rwanda"
- One of my favorite thoughts as I walk around Kampala is "what would happen if someone introduced emissions testing in this city, or even country?" Honestly, it would bring the city to its knees. Pollution is not only always on my mind here, its also constantly in my lungs. 75% of the country's waste is biodegradable, yet no one composts (which would help failing soil fertility rates). Everything is burned.
- This may surprise some of you, seeing as how I am always talking about refugees this, and refugees that, but for this past week as well as this week that is just beginning, I have been studying public health. I was thinking AIDS and family planning issues when I signedup for it, but some of the stuff that it entails (i.e. water sanitation issues) just amazes me. The average life expectancy here is 47. Wow. On average a woman has 7 live births (that doesn't include stillborns/miscarriages/ abortions). I wont bore everyone with such things, but write me if you want some more interesting information.
- Last Sunday night I was sitting in my homestay (in the doorjamb to myroom, which is where I hang out most days). The power was off and itwas just me and my host mum in the house and we were listening to a Q and A on the radio about sex and STDs and such. People could call,write, or sms (text message) in and ask questions about AIDS,pregnancy, as well as STIs. I thought it was a good, and I brought it up in one of my public health sessions, and the lecturer mentioned that yea its good, until you don't have enough power for the whole population and not everyone in the country speaks English…so yea.
- Ok, here are some funny animal stories that involve me…both occurred on the same day. The day we arrived at QE national park we were justacross the park border when baboons came running out to greet us. Since there are 16 of us in the group we ride around in 2 vans. One van was tempting the baboons with bananas, so I decided to do the same for my van (I didn't want to miss out on the fun after all). Except I think I got the head male, because the biggest baboon I have ever seen scampered up to the car. I was hanging out of thewindow (of course), and the baboon looked as though he was going to jump into the van onto me, so being crazy Sharon, I threw the banana, screamed, and slammed the window shut all in one swift movement. My van just broke out laughing at me, I turned a beautiful shade of red and opened the window again, but just a crack…Later on, while were haggling our way into the salt mines, I was sitting in the second van when a herd of large horned cows came walking over a hill right next to me. Lets just say I showed my true Midwest colors, and mooed at the cow and he mooed back. This exchange continued for several minutes until the driver(a Ugandan) turned and asked me what we were talking about. I closed my window permanently.
- DDT. The World Health Organization has just approved the massive spraying of DDT throughout Uganda. Unlike in the states it will not be aerially sprayed, but it will be sprayed in homes. The problem with WHO's solution
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Today
Hey everyone! How was your week? ‘Cause I spent mine in the southern hemisphere!!
First, I need to say two things: 1) this is a realllllly long e-mail, it was a week of craziness!! 2) mom and dad you know most of this, but trust me the ending bit is worth it…
My host family decided it would be fun to braid my hair…wow. They braided about half of it into tiny braids which I then slept on. The next morning when I woke up they took all the braids out and instead of just letting me walk around with crazy80’s hair, they put it back into mini pony tails alllll over my head….i left the house that way, walked to my bus stop laughing hysterically at myself, and then immediately took them all out with the help of a friend. Yea, you can imagine how I looked!!
Also, my host family calls me sharoni…so now my group does too. If you want to call me sharoni that is fine haha
Alright, my trip:
Day 1: We stopped at the equator, and I bought a crazy shirt that says that I crossed the Uganda equator…as if it doesn’t go all around the globe, just in Uganda…and then I bought a huge spear…Is it Ugandan? No. Is it amazingly cool? Yes. We stayed in a town called Mbarara. Yes that’s an actual town dad…M’s and vowels, that’s how Uganda is.
Day 2: We went to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees desk office in Mbarara. It was amazing! I think for my last six weeks here I am going to try and live/work in a refugee camp and teach English or something else. I am very excited at this prospect! We stayed in Mbarara another night, and watched “Sometimes in April” a movie about the genocide in Rwanda. It was rough, as we were heading there the next day. For dinner me and a few other girls headed out to someplace called “the chef” it sounded exciting, so when it was closed we had to walk around the three street town to find another restaurant. We stumbled into a “diner” and I strolled up to the desk and got us a table. Then the whole meal we got stared at. Not even people PRETENDING to do something else….blatantly stared at. I guess that i was used to this phenomenon though, seeing as it happens an awful lot…Suffice it to say we ate our crazy chicken and bread, then quickly and scampered home.
Day 3:
We left for Rwanda early in the morning. The scenery was beautiful, as we got into the mountains. The border was cool, we got to walk it on foot. But once we started getting into Rwanda, my brain started messing with my head….
HISTORY LESSON!
Rwanda was colonized by first the Germans then the Belgians. Under the Belgians a strict system of discrimination took place, in which the two main ethnic groups of the area, the Hutus and Tutsis, were pitted against one another. The Tutsi were the minority but were favored b the Belgians who used a system of eugenics to falsely “determine” them to be the smarter “race.” When the Belgians left the country, they reversed their policy and gave power to the subjugated Hutu. The tutsis had used their power as any human would and taken advantage of being the powerful, economically stable people group, so the Hutu wanted revenge. Since independence there have been moderate bouts of hutus purging tutsi’s. Many tutsis fled the country and a rebel army, the RPF, was formed to fight the Hutu government. In 1994 a ceasefire was signed by both parties. Then one night in April 1994 the president of Rwanda’s plane was shot down. No one knows who did it. Within an hour a Hutu militia group had set up road blocks throughout Kigali (the capital city). Moderate Hutu’s were the first to be slaughtered and then the tutsi’s. All over the country people were killed. Within 100 days over 800,000 Tutsis had been slaughtered. The international community did nothing. In fact, when a refugee made it to America and was allowed to approach congress, someone stated ”America doesn’t have friends, America has interests. And America has no interests in Rwanda.” The only way that the genocide was stopped was because the RPF made it into Kigali to stop the violence.
Now, Rwanda has been a major interest of mine since I was able to comprehend such a thing. So I knew all such things prior to this trip, as I have read a good many books on the subject. So as we were driving along we passed a river. I knew that the rivers of the country had essentially run red with blood throughout the genocide, so what did my brain do? Made the river look red in my head. We passed a truck full of men heading to or from work. I imagined it as being full of men on their way to murder their neighbors. It was a really hard day.
Day 4:
As if my brain wasn’t messed up already, day four was genocide day. We first went to Gisozi, a museum in central Kigali that was opened in 1994 as the nations way of dealing with their past. It was sad, there was footage and stories and essentially craziness. But then it got worse. We went to a church out in the countryside where 5000 tutsis had taken refuge and had been slaughtered anyways. There were shelves lined with skulls, and piles of rotting clothes. I have never really smelled anything like it. It wasn’t death per say, but decay, terror, and well death I suppose. At one point I almost threw up. One skull still had a spears ticking out of it, and many had machete marks clearly visible. The worst was the church itself. They had left much of the church as it had been found. I saw a jawbone lying next to a rosary, Shoes filled with dried foods. Pans were scattered everywhere. It was the scene of a mass murder. Then we went to a second church. There 10,000 tutsis had been murdered. They had cleaned up the debris, except a wall that was caked with blood which was used to throw babies and small children against to kill them. We went down into the catacombs, where there were shelves upon shelves FILLED with bones.
I didn’t cry. I feel very inhuman. I think my main emotion was anger. But I still feel bad for not sobbing uncontrollably.
The highlight to the day (the only one haha): I had the most delicious dinner ever! It was just a crazy pizza that didn’t have any sauce…but oh man, was it amazing!
Day 5:
Kigali and Rwanda itself speak French in addition to the language KiRwanda. I speak neither of those. Lets just that most of our group did not. I followed one girl around who knew bits of French, but even I could tell she sucked at it haha. We really wanted to go cloth/ material shopping. We spent a few hours wandering around Kigali asking people…but it didn’t work out, and I had to come back to Uganda empty handed.
I was very surprised at how different Kigali was from Kampala. It was cleaner as well as prettier. Also, the people there don’t yell MZUNGU, because there is a general distrust for foreigners. Also the people look very different as well.
Day 6:
We were back in Mbarara for the night,and day six saw us leave for Queen Elizabeth National park (QE). The Ugandan landscape is really random. It went from mountains to savannah in about a mile. We dropped in elevation so fast that I was cold one minute and the next saw me peeling off my raincoat to soak in the sunshine. We got to the park, and went on a boat ride around a channel between lake Albert and Edward. I saw about 300 hippos, a crocodile, savannah buffalo, and waterbucks (which are my new favorite animal!). The we went for a game drive in 15 passenger vans. We stumbled upon some lions and I literally climbed out of the window on my van onto the top of someone elses van to take pictures. Our van driver kept freaking out and we had to persuade him to get closer every time we saw an animal of interest. Then we came across a heard of elephants! There were a few babies, and many large ones. One didn’t like us being there, so he started shaking his head (which is bad in elephant language), and we then high tailed it in reverse down a ruddy dirt road…WHOO HOO! That actually happened several times…but no one died. For the night we stayed in a “hostel” in which we were instructed not to leave our respective houses at night, because last year a ranger was eaten up by a lion…hahaha. Also, I assume I found this out as a youngster, but heres a piece of elephant trivia that I re-learned: Elephants bury their dead and then visit the graces….i find that to be really cool and creepy all at once.
We then visited a salt mine. It doesn’t sound exciting…but our guide (and by guide I mean the man we bribed to show us around…Mom and dad I think all of the fees you paid for this goes to bribes haha) 30000 people work in them, from the local run down poor area. They are very deadly. If you fall over while working you pretty much die instantly. They harvest three types of salt, including table salt.
Also, we met a peace corps couple. They were about 50, a husband and wife (hint hint mom and dad!!), and were working in one of the prettiest groves I have ever seen. The woman worked in the clinic, and the man worked as a teacher.
Day 7:
We went for a morning game drive. We were supposed to meet at 6 am…but I guess they meant 6 am Africa time, because we didn’t leave until almost 7. Immediately off the compound we ran into a heard of lions. I didn’t climb out of the van this time, but it had nothing to do with self control, instead simply the lack of something to climb on haha. We saw the head male, which is apparently rare because they are shy. We then saw some hyenas, and I even saw one stalking a Ugandan Kob (an antelope/ deer type thing). Warthogs are very prevalent, as well as ugly.
Day 8:
We went back to Mbarara. (it feels like my home there now). In Mbarara I went and got Indian food, and actually found something that had garlic in it…my Italian body had been going through garlic withdrawal…and it was delicious. Me and two other girls decided we wanted to check out the local night life and went to some crazy street party across from the hotel. The “party” was for boys I guess… I mean there were girls there, but the entertainment was a few scantily clad African women belly dancing on stage. Even though we were fully dressed, we started to attract more attention than the stage simply due to our skin color. We walked over to a bar, which I quickly determined to be a local prostitute hang out. The last straw was a sketchy old man with no front teeth who decided he wanted to talk to the whiteys. We told him we were all married, but he kept asking questions like “well do you love him?” so we downed our beers and left. We went back to the hotel and got a group leader, who is Ugandan, and went to a CD release party for a girl she went to college with. WOW! She got us behind stage, and a news crew thought it would be fun to interview us…so I am going to be on Ugandan Television on Thursday…I hope I don’t get any stalkers!
The highlight of the day was that we found cloth…a LOT of it…I bought 16 metres myself…I am coming back to America wearing some CRAZY clothes!!
Day 9:
As we were leaving Mbarara (which we nicknamed mbalala land), I was sitting on the bus waiting to go when I noticed one of the singers from the night before was coming out of the hotel. I jumped off and ran up to her and asked for her autograph…I think she was really surprised that a whitey knew who she was. But I am now going to be on TV and I have met two Ugandan pop icons! WHOO!
OK, I will write less specific stuff later…generalizations about some things…but this is three MS word pages as it is…SORRY!
I think my host family is worried about me, so I am leaving!
Bye!
Sharoni
First, I need to say two things: 1) this is a realllllly long e-mail, it was a week of craziness!! 2) mom and dad you know most of this, but trust me the ending bit is worth it…
My host family decided it would be fun to braid my hair…wow. They braided about half of it into tiny braids which I then slept on. The next morning when I woke up they took all the braids out and instead of just letting me walk around with crazy80’s hair, they put it back into mini pony tails alllll over my head….i left the house that way, walked to my bus stop laughing hysterically at myself, and then immediately took them all out with the help of a friend. Yea, you can imagine how I looked!!
Also, my host family calls me sharoni…so now my group does too. If you want to call me sharoni that is fine haha
Alright, my trip:
Day 1: We stopped at the equator, and I bought a crazy shirt that says that I crossed the Uganda equator…as if it doesn’t go all around the globe, just in Uganda…and then I bought a huge spear…Is it Ugandan? No. Is it amazingly cool? Yes. We stayed in a town called Mbarara. Yes that’s an actual town dad…M’s and vowels, that’s how Uganda is.
Day 2: We went to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees desk office in Mbarara. It was amazing! I think for my last six weeks here I am going to try and live/work in a refugee camp and teach English or something else. I am very excited at this prospect! We stayed in Mbarara another night, and watched “Sometimes in April” a movie about the genocide in Rwanda. It was rough, as we were heading there the next day. For dinner me and a few other girls headed out to someplace called “the chef” it sounded exciting, so when it was closed we had to walk around the three street town to find another restaurant. We stumbled into a “diner” and I strolled up to the desk and got us a table. Then the whole meal we got stared at. Not even people PRETENDING to do something else….blatantly stared at. I guess that i was used to this phenomenon though, seeing as it happens an awful lot…Suffice it to say we ate our crazy chicken and bread, then quickly and scampered home.
Day 3:
We left for Rwanda early in the morning. The scenery was beautiful, as we got into the mountains. The border was cool, we got to walk it on foot. But once we started getting into Rwanda, my brain started messing with my head….
HISTORY LESSON!
Rwanda was colonized by first the Germans then the Belgians. Under the Belgians a strict system of discrimination took place, in which the two main ethnic groups of the area, the Hutus and Tutsis, were pitted against one another. The Tutsi were the minority but were favored b the Belgians who used a system of eugenics to falsely “determine” them to be the smarter “race.” When the Belgians left the country, they reversed their policy and gave power to the subjugated Hutu. The tutsis had used their power as any human would and taken advantage of being the powerful, economically stable people group, so the Hutu wanted revenge. Since independence there have been moderate bouts of hutus purging tutsi’s. Many tutsis fled the country and a rebel army, the RPF, was formed to fight the Hutu government. In 1994 a ceasefire was signed by both parties. Then one night in April 1994 the president of Rwanda’s plane was shot down. No one knows who did it. Within an hour a Hutu militia group had set up road blocks throughout Kigali (the capital city). Moderate Hutu’s were the first to be slaughtered and then the tutsi’s. All over the country people were killed. Within 100 days over 800,000 Tutsis had been slaughtered. The international community did nothing. In fact, when a refugee made it to America and was allowed to approach congress, someone stated ”America doesn’t have friends, America has interests. And America has no interests in Rwanda.” The only way that the genocide was stopped was because the RPF made it into Kigali to stop the violence.
Now, Rwanda has been a major interest of mine since I was able to comprehend such a thing. So I knew all such things prior to this trip, as I have read a good many books on the subject. So as we were driving along we passed a river. I knew that the rivers of the country had essentially run red with blood throughout the genocide, so what did my brain do? Made the river look red in my head. We passed a truck full of men heading to or from work. I imagined it as being full of men on their way to murder their neighbors. It was a really hard day.
Day 4:
As if my brain wasn’t messed up already, day four was genocide day. We first went to Gisozi, a museum in central Kigali that was opened in 1994 as the nations way of dealing with their past. It was sad, there was footage and stories and essentially craziness. But then it got worse. We went to a church out in the countryside where 5000 tutsis had taken refuge and had been slaughtered anyways. There were shelves lined with skulls, and piles of rotting clothes. I have never really smelled anything like it. It wasn’t death per say, but decay, terror, and well death I suppose. At one point I almost threw up. One skull still had a spears ticking out of it, and many had machete marks clearly visible. The worst was the church itself. They had left much of the church as it had been found. I saw a jawbone lying next to a rosary, Shoes filled with dried foods. Pans were scattered everywhere. It was the scene of a mass murder. Then we went to a second church. There 10,000 tutsis had been murdered. They had cleaned up the debris, except a wall that was caked with blood which was used to throw babies and small children against to kill them. We went down into the catacombs, where there were shelves upon shelves FILLED with bones.
I didn’t cry. I feel very inhuman. I think my main emotion was anger. But I still feel bad for not sobbing uncontrollably.
The highlight to the day (the only one haha): I had the most delicious dinner ever! It was just a crazy pizza that didn’t have any sauce…but oh man, was it amazing!
Day 5:
Kigali and Rwanda itself speak French in addition to the language KiRwanda. I speak neither of those. Lets just that most of our group did not. I followed one girl around who knew bits of French, but even I could tell she sucked at it haha. We really wanted to go cloth/ material shopping. We spent a few hours wandering around Kigali asking people…but it didn’t work out, and I had to come back to Uganda empty handed.
I was very surprised at how different Kigali was from Kampala. It was cleaner as well as prettier. Also, the people there don’t yell MZUNGU, because there is a general distrust for foreigners. Also the people look very different as well.
Day 6:
We were back in Mbarara for the night,and day six saw us leave for Queen Elizabeth National park (QE). The Ugandan landscape is really random. It went from mountains to savannah in about a mile. We dropped in elevation so fast that I was cold one minute and the next saw me peeling off my raincoat to soak in the sunshine. We got to the park, and went on a boat ride around a channel between lake Albert and Edward. I saw about 300 hippos, a crocodile, savannah buffalo, and waterbucks (which are my new favorite animal!). The we went for a game drive in 15 passenger vans. We stumbled upon some lions and I literally climbed out of the window on my van onto the top of someone elses van to take pictures. Our van driver kept freaking out and we had to persuade him to get closer every time we saw an animal of interest. Then we came across a heard of elephants! There were a few babies, and many large ones. One didn’t like us being there, so he started shaking his head (which is bad in elephant language), and we then high tailed it in reverse down a ruddy dirt road…WHOO HOO! That actually happened several times…but no one died. For the night we stayed in a “hostel” in which we were instructed not to leave our respective houses at night, because last year a ranger was eaten up by a lion…hahaha. Also, I assume I found this out as a youngster, but heres a piece of elephant trivia that I re-learned: Elephants bury their dead and then visit the graces….i find that to be really cool and creepy all at once.
We then visited a salt mine. It doesn’t sound exciting…but our guide (and by guide I mean the man we bribed to show us around…Mom and dad I think all of the fees you paid for this goes to bribes haha) 30000 people work in them, from the local run down poor area. They are very deadly. If you fall over while working you pretty much die instantly. They harvest three types of salt, including table salt.
Also, we met a peace corps couple. They were about 50, a husband and wife (hint hint mom and dad!!), and were working in one of the prettiest groves I have ever seen. The woman worked in the clinic, and the man worked as a teacher.
Day 7:
We went for a morning game drive. We were supposed to meet at 6 am…but I guess they meant 6 am Africa time, because we didn’t leave until almost 7. Immediately off the compound we ran into a heard of lions. I didn’t climb out of the van this time, but it had nothing to do with self control, instead simply the lack of something to climb on haha. We saw the head male, which is apparently rare because they are shy. We then saw some hyenas, and I even saw one stalking a Ugandan Kob (an antelope/ deer type thing). Warthogs are very prevalent, as well as ugly.
Day 8:
We went back to Mbarara. (it feels like my home there now). In Mbarara I went and got Indian food, and actually found something that had garlic in it…my Italian body had been going through garlic withdrawal…and it was delicious. Me and two other girls decided we wanted to check out the local night life and went to some crazy street party across from the hotel. The “party” was for boys I guess… I mean there were girls there, but the entertainment was a few scantily clad African women belly dancing on stage. Even though we were fully dressed, we started to attract more attention than the stage simply due to our skin color. We walked over to a bar, which I quickly determined to be a local prostitute hang out. The last straw was a sketchy old man with no front teeth who decided he wanted to talk to the whiteys. We told him we were all married, but he kept asking questions like “well do you love him?” so we downed our beers and left. We went back to the hotel and got a group leader, who is Ugandan, and went to a CD release party for a girl she went to college with. WOW! She got us behind stage, and a news crew thought it would be fun to interview us…so I am going to be on Ugandan Television on Thursday…I hope I don’t get any stalkers!
The highlight of the day was that we found cloth…a LOT of it…I bought 16 metres myself…I am coming back to America wearing some CRAZY clothes!!
Day 9:
As we were leaving Mbarara (which we nicknamed mbalala land), I was sitting on the bus waiting to go when I noticed one of the singers from the night before was coming out of the hotel. I jumped off and ran up to her and asked for her autograph…I think she was really surprised that a whitey knew who she was. But I am now going to be on TV and I have met two Ugandan pop icons! WHOO!
OK, I will write less specific stuff later…generalizations about some things…but this is three MS word pages as it is…SORRY!
I think my host family is worried about me, so I am leaving!
Bye!
Sharoni
sep 14
Alright-Sorry that last message was slightly hurried, and probably made no sense whatsoever…Also, my spelling and grammar is crazy because half of the internet cafes that I go to have half Arabic keyboards, which make figuring out what the heck I am doing interesting…But yea.My birthday- (Monday), well my host family forgot…so there was nothing special at home. The people in the program and I were all planning on finally going out and testing the Ugandan nightlife this weekend (it is our third weekend here after all!!) But our academic director said that means we are trying to run away and disclude ourselves from our host families…so I am slightly upset, because I need a little bit of a break from the home stay routine. (Side note: Wednesday my group brought me a chocolate cake…it wasn't really what any of us thought was delicious…but it was a fun experience!!) Here I wake up at 6:30 AM (yea, many of you will be shocked by that disclosure..) and go to school by 8, and don't get home until around 8 or so. I have really long days, and am consistently tired, even though I typically go to bed at around 10:30 or 11 at the latest (yea, another shocker, Sharon going to bed before 1 am?!? WHAT?!?) I walk all over the city here, which is really good, because my diet is almost all starch (rice, mashed bananas, breads…whoo)
Yesterday was crazy. The public transportation system (called taxis,but they are public) went on strike. The government wants to install govenators and so the taxi drivers went crazy. I sat around my host mothers shop until late ate at night so I could get a ride with her and my host dad…I honestly should have just fought for a "taxi" in the taxi pit, it would've been faster…That's Edem Jimbos idea of African time for you baby! Saturday I made the maid let me help cook lunch…I was doing well,chopping vegetables and such; we were going to have pasta, which is a
treat here haha. Then they pulled out a liver…cow liver I think, as it was too big to be from a goat. I got to chop that up. After I was done with that my hands were so bloody, I had to refrain from gagging. We fried it up, and I even tried it (another wow for Sharon). I wont lie, psychologically I couldn't deal with it, so when my host dad showed up unexpectedly, I was happy to hand over my meat for re-proportioning purposes. Another "oddity" that I will be trying soon is grasshoppers. The rainy season is starting soon, and we will be infested with them in November. They are a delicacy here, so I figure I didn't come here to be a crazy American, and the point is learning…so, down the hatch!!
One of my new favorite past times is watching Nigerian movies. It sounds odd…but it's the only visual stimulation I receive without having to process. They are all very corny, and parts where the rest of my host family is practically crying I have to cramp my mouth up terribly so I don't bust out laughing. A continuing theme throughout all of the movies is poisoning…it seems that's the thing to do in Nigeria. However, they slightly amuse me, so I find it ok!
Something I have yet to participate in here is the music. I passively listen to it on the radio, but my host father said that Uganda is a major destination in Africa for musicians because people here will actually go and see concerts. And let me tell you, I think there is a new CD release party every week here…maybe this weekend. If any of you want to listen to a cool Uganda artist, look for Bebe Cool! Haha, then we can all be listening to the same crazy stuff. Also, the rainy season is coming/ on the verge of being here. It has rained a bit, and is cool in the mornings (when I get up at 6 am and take my freezing cold showers haha). But let me tell you, when the rain does come…all hell is going to break loose…the amount of mud…lets just say I need to go shoe shopping for something more sturdy than old navy sandals…\n",1]
In about a month I have to move into "my own" apartment…so I went apartment shopping yesterday with my friend Sara. We found two nice ones, one bedrooms. Then we asked some random man on a street corner if he knew of any apartments to let. That's when we found the most amazing place EVER! Five bedrooms, one bathroom, and a bitty kitchen, but its above a restaurant where if we should stay there we get 10% off meals, they give us two eggs, homemade bread and milk in the morning, and the gentlemen who own the place were amazing! We should be able to rent the whole place out for 300 apiece for six weeks…yes!!
During the same time I will be living in the apartment I will be working with a non-governmental organization here. Today I went to talk to people at the Ugandan Human Rights Commission, UNHCR, the Red Cross, and the African Centre for the treatment and rehabilitation of torture victims. It was a long day. My cabbie couldn't find UNHCR, the Torture Victims center and the commission for human rights weren't in need of anyone, so as of today the Red Cross seems most promising. I had to walk around Kampala in heels. I will never complain about heels in America again. The sidewalks…and by sidewalks I mean sketchy dirt paths with some occasional crappy asphalt poured over it…yea it was fun, and my feet LOVE me…
Yesterday I went to a slum area in Kampala. We went to see how traditional family settings are being changed by the AIDS virus. Elders….very old men and women whose life story of poverty and hardship are written on their beautiful wrinkled faces…must take care of their grandchildren. The average life expectancy in Uganda is 47 years. I cant imagine that…Sometimes it is hard to be here, and to think of all that I have, and to see the absolute squalor others live in. In Uganda the poor aren't seperated from the rich like they are in America…the poor are very visible, and could be living right next door to someone who owns a car.
I am going to babble about politics now, so I am sorry, these are just my beliefs, if you disagree that is cool…I am sitting in Uganda, a country that has had a civil war raging for 20 years. I am surround by unstable states. The Sudan was under a civil war for thirty years, and is even known the home to mass turmoil, and has the largest refugee/ internally displaced population in the world. The DRC (Congo) has not known peace since the end of Lumumba in the 1960s…Rwanda was the home to mass genocide in 1994; 800,000 people killed in 100 days, a slaughter five times faster than the Nazi's in WWII. And yet it took only six weeks for the UN and the west to push for a end to the Lebanon issue. Does anyone see that as crazy? It makes me really upset actually. I know many of you know little to nothing about Africa…but does that mean we shouldn't care about the humanity here? I am not asking anyone to be an international peace keeper…but SERIOUSLY.
Sexuality is a big issue here…it is hardcore illegal. One can be jailed for 18 years for pure heresy. We have three gays in my group alone. Yet it is acceptable for men as well as women to hold hands here; it is a sign of friendship and respect. The newspapers here are very graphic, and daily carry stories concerning mob violence. One day a mentally ill man was found eating a human arm. He was beaten severely and the police had to take him into protective custody, the newspaper showed the man, bloody, with the arm in front of him. Yesterday there was a story from Kenya concerning mob justice; a man had tried to steal a motorcycle and people caught him and burned him alive. The paper showed a picture of the still smoldering, charred corpse.
Also, there is birdflu in Sudan. I am not very worried about it, yet, and have heard no warnings about Uganda…granted I would probably not understand them, as my Luganda is not improving. Also…my family is slacking…I have gotten two pieces of mail here, and BOTH were from the fabulous Gina Sammarco!! C\'mon!! haha, I am joking…sort of.
Thanks to Leslie and Libby for the e-cards.
Barry-Still no pictures, sorry…also can u get Mikes e-mail for me again, it hasn't worked at all since I got here…
Jared- you need to read the "Great Influenza" its all about medicine and such…actually anyone interested in early 20th century history should…Dr. Symonds, I assume you already have!
Anyways I am going to go! I leave for Rwanda in 3 days! Wish me luck, and sorry this is so long!!
Yesterday was crazy. The public transportation system (called taxis,but they are public) went on strike. The government wants to install govenators and so the taxi drivers went crazy. I sat around my host mothers shop until late ate at night so I could get a ride with her and my host dad…I honestly should have just fought for a "taxi" in the taxi pit, it would've been faster…That's Edem Jimbos idea of African time for you baby! Saturday I made the maid let me help cook lunch…I was doing well,chopping vegetables and such; we were going to have pasta, which is a
treat here haha. Then they pulled out a liver…cow liver I think, as it was too big to be from a goat. I got to chop that up. After I was done with that my hands were so bloody, I had to refrain from gagging. We fried it up, and I even tried it (another wow for Sharon). I wont lie, psychologically I couldn't deal with it, so when my host dad showed up unexpectedly, I was happy to hand over my meat for re-proportioning purposes. Another "oddity" that I will be trying soon is grasshoppers. The rainy season is starting soon, and we will be infested with them in November. They are a delicacy here, so I figure I didn't come here to be a crazy American, and the point is learning…so, down the hatch!!
One of my new favorite past times is watching Nigerian movies. It sounds odd…but it's the only visual stimulation I receive without having to process. They are all very corny, and parts where the rest of my host family is practically crying I have to cramp my mouth up terribly so I don't bust out laughing. A continuing theme throughout all of the movies is poisoning…it seems that's the thing to do in Nigeria. However, they slightly amuse me, so I find it ok!
Something I have yet to participate in here is the music. I passively listen to it on the radio, but my host father said that Uganda is a major destination in Africa for musicians because people here will actually go and see concerts. And let me tell you, I think there is a new CD release party every week here…maybe this weekend. If any of you want to listen to a cool Uganda artist, look for Bebe Cool! Haha, then we can all be listening to the same crazy stuff. Also, the rainy season is coming/ on the verge of being here. It has rained a bit, and is cool in the mornings (when I get up at 6 am and take my freezing cold showers haha). But let me tell you, when the rain does come…all hell is going to break loose…the amount of mud…lets just say I need to go shoe shopping for something more sturdy than old navy sandals…\n",1]
In about a month I have to move into "my own" apartment…so I went apartment shopping yesterday with my friend Sara. We found two nice ones, one bedrooms. Then we asked some random man on a street corner if he knew of any apartments to let. That's when we found the most amazing place EVER! Five bedrooms, one bathroom, and a bitty kitchen, but its above a restaurant where if we should stay there we get 10% off meals, they give us two eggs, homemade bread and milk in the morning, and the gentlemen who own the place were amazing! We should be able to rent the whole place out for 300 apiece for six weeks…yes!!
During the same time I will be living in the apartment I will be working with a non-governmental organization here. Today I went to talk to people at the Ugandan Human Rights Commission, UNHCR, the Red Cross, and the African Centre for the treatment and rehabilitation of torture victims. It was a long day. My cabbie couldn't find UNHCR, the Torture Victims center and the commission for human rights weren't in need of anyone, so as of today the Red Cross seems most promising. I had to walk around Kampala in heels. I will never complain about heels in America again. The sidewalks…and by sidewalks I mean sketchy dirt paths with some occasional crappy asphalt poured over it…yea it was fun, and my feet LOVE me…
Yesterday I went to a slum area in Kampala. We went to see how traditional family settings are being changed by the AIDS virus. Elders….very old men and women whose life story of poverty and hardship are written on their beautiful wrinkled faces…must take care of their grandchildren. The average life expectancy in Uganda is 47 years. I cant imagine that…Sometimes it is hard to be here, and to think of all that I have, and to see the absolute squalor others live in. In Uganda the poor aren't seperated from the rich like they are in America…the poor are very visible, and could be living right next door to someone who owns a car.
I am going to babble about politics now, so I am sorry, these are just my beliefs, if you disagree that is cool…I am sitting in Uganda, a country that has had a civil war raging for 20 years. I am surround by unstable states. The Sudan was under a civil war for thirty years, and is even known the home to mass turmoil, and has the largest refugee/ internally displaced population in the world. The DRC (Congo) has not known peace since the end of Lumumba in the 1960s…Rwanda was the home to mass genocide in 1994; 800,000 people killed in 100 days, a slaughter five times faster than the Nazi's in WWII. And yet it took only six weeks for the UN and the west to push for a end to the Lebanon issue. Does anyone see that as crazy? It makes me really upset actually. I know many of you know little to nothing about Africa…but does that mean we shouldn't care about the humanity here? I am not asking anyone to be an international peace keeper…but SERIOUSLY.
Sexuality is a big issue here…it is hardcore illegal. One can be jailed for 18 years for pure heresy. We have three gays in my group alone. Yet it is acceptable for men as well as women to hold hands here; it is a sign of friendship and respect. The newspapers here are very graphic, and daily carry stories concerning mob violence. One day a mentally ill man was found eating a human arm. He was beaten severely and the police had to take him into protective custody, the newspaper showed the man, bloody, with the arm in front of him. Yesterday there was a story from Kenya concerning mob justice; a man had tried to steal a motorcycle and people caught him and burned him alive. The paper showed a picture of the still smoldering, charred corpse.
Also, there is birdflu in Sudan. I am not very worried about it, yet, and have heard no warnings about Uganda…granted I would probably not understand them, as my Luganda is not improving. Also…my family is slacking…I have gotten two pieces of mail here, and BOTH were from the fabulous Gina Sammarco!! C\'mon!! haha, I am joking…sort of.
Thanks to Leslie and Libby for the e-cards.
Barry-Still no pictures, sorry…also can u get Mikes e-mail for me again, it hasn't worked at all since I got here…
Jared- you need to read the "Great Influenza" its all about medicine and such…actually anyone interested in early 20th century history should…Dr. Symonds, I assume you already have!
Anyways I am going to go! I leave for Rwanda in 3 days! Wish me luck, and sorry this is so long!!
Sep 7
Hello again-
I am sure that you are all getting sick of me!! But I thought I might be able to better point out some issues of Kampala life.
What I said the other day about my host family doesn't mean that we are poor or rich. Pit latrines don't "mean" anything. We have a flat screen TV in our sitting room. Classes are a lot harder to define here. No one has electricity 24 hours per day. Some people have back up generators, but most do not. Many internet cafes do ( I got to witness them putting in a new one yesterday at this internet café).
I am not worried about the culture shock; it is something people go through no matter what country they study or live in. I prepared myself for this prior to coming as best I could. One thing that is very annoying here is the DUST. I think I might as well just pick up smoking…I think my luings are already black after just one week. When I go to the country it won't be so bad though. Also, I get to go to Rwanda in a few weeks YAY!. One other thing that adds to the smog is that they burn their garbage. There is no trash pick up. Yesterday at the University campus it must have been trash burning day cause I had to walk through several billowing clouds of filth. Haha, ooh Uganda. Another annoying habit here, that I am trying my best to get used to is that in Luganda (the language of this AREA, not Uganda as a whole) they have a word which means white person, "Muzungu." Many people speak English here, but on the street taxi drivers and small children call out to us/me MUZUNGU!! And is typically accompanied by a lot of staring. By the end of the day I am frustrated, and just want to yell YES I AM A WHITEY!! But I still find it amusing.
Also, everyone is interested in the food. It is different, and slightly unexplainable. We eat something called mitoki (spelling is off, my LUGANDA IS NOT SO GOOD YET), which is a mashed something (its yellow…so banana??) then you pour a stew over it, with stuff like meat carrots and peas. I ate put peas on it Tuesday and it was delicious. Last night we had what Ugandans call an "Irish." For dinner we had stewed potatoes and some greens. It was very delicious, as I had been going through potato withdrawal! There is an Indian naan type bread called chipati which is delicious in and of itself, but is used to sop up leftover stew.
The power; we are on a rotating system. I have power for one night and day, then it is followed by about 24 hours of no electricity. I am not sure how much of the stuff in the fridge stays cool, but then again there isn't much in there to begin with. It is a mini fridge, slightly larger than what kids today bring to college.
As for my home stay, I leave the city proper at around 6 or 6:30 in the evening. I do not go into the city again until the next morning. Ugandans do things differently in the evening than in America. In the US you typically go home, eat, hang out, then go to bed. Here we go home, hang out, eat (as late as 11pm) then go to bed. It is a lot on your stomach (rice, breads, starch etc) to have to climb into bed with, so I try and keep my mum up and talking to me. Then I wake up at 6 am…ooh how I long for the American University schedule!!"
Also, as I was telling my parents yesterday, everyone here is obsessed with being clean. I MUST take two showers a day. One when I wake up in the morning, and one when I get back from school at about 7 pm. These are my host mother's rules. Everyone here dresses very nicely, collared shirts and all. Perhaps that is the same in Benin Kelly?
The next big question is how do I get home? My family owns a car (a Toyota), but the point is for me to assimilate, so I take a taxi. The word taxi is used loosely here. It means that I wait around for a mini-van style public transportation vehicle to show up. Then I have to haggle with the driver, and climb aboard. In the mornings it is easy. In the afternoons I have to go to what is called a taxi park. This is an overwhelming experience, as there are hundreds of "matatus" (taxis's) in a small dusty people filled area, with no signs and no discernible system. Also, all of them look EXACTLY THE SAME. So it's a slightly stressful situation, but I am getting used to it.
People asked me if I have a curfew and such…well not really. But you dont want to take the taxi's at night, especially as a girl. Also, they have what we think of as "American" taxis, which are more expensive, but even those can be unsafe. So if I want to spend the night with my friends in the city, I must ask my mum, the academic director, and then rent a hotel room. It seems to be a slightly obnoxious process (yes yes I know its for my safety), so I have yet to do it.
Tonight I am going to a bachelors or bachelorette party with my mum. Here they are both called the same thing, and sometimes both the bride and groom attend the same one. I am really excited, but also quite scared, because when I asked what to wear, the mum and maid laughed and said they would dress me! So those pictures should be highly amusing. Sorry I haven't uploaded any pics yet…computers and power are a major issue here haha, sooo I am just trying to figure out how I should go about doing that. I am sure that I will have even more news for all of you tomorrow after my party, but you probably won't hear from me for a bit (I have flooded everyone's e-mails enough!
I am sure that you are all getting sick of me!! But I thought I might be able to better point out some issues of Kampala life.
What I said the other day about my host family doesn't mean that we are poor or rich. Pit latrines don't "mean" anything. We have a flat screen TV in our sitting room. Classes are a lot harder to define here. No one has electricity 24 hours per day. Some people have back up generators, but most do not. Many internet cafes do ( I got to witness them putting in a new one yesterday at this internet café).
I am not worried about the culture shock; it is something people go through no matter what country they study or live in. I prepared myself for this prior to coming as best I could. One thing that is very annoying here is the DUST. I think I might as well just pick up smoking…I think my luings are already black after just one week. When I go to the country it won't be so bad though. Also, I get to go to Rwanda in a few weeks YAY!. One other thing that adds to the smog is that they burn their garbage. There is no trash pick up. Yesterday at the University campus it must have been trash burning day cause I had to walk through several billowing clouds of filth. Haha, ooh Uganda. Another annoying habit here, that I am trying my best to get used to is that in Luganda (the language of this AREA, not Uganda as a whole) they have a word which means white person, "Muzungu." Many people speak English here, but on the street taxi drivers and small children call out to us/me MUZUNGU!! And is typically accompanied by a lot of staring. By the end of the day I am frustrated, and just want to yell YES I AM A WHITEY!! But I still find it amusing.
Also, everyone is interested in the food. It is different, and slightly unexplainable. We eat something called mitoki (spelling is off, my LUGANDA IS NOT SO GOOD YET), which is a mashed something (its yellow…so banana??) then you pour a stew over it, with stuff like meat carrots and peas. I ate put peas on it Tuesday and it was delicious. Last night we had what Ugandans call an "Irish." For dinner we had stewed potatoes and some greens. It was very delicious, as I had been going through potato withdrawal! There is an Indian naan type bread called chipati which is delicious in and of itself, but is used to sop up leftover stew.
The power; we are on a rotating system. I have power for one night and day, then it is followed by about 24 hours of no electricity. I am not sure how much of the stuff in the fridge stays cool, but then again there isn't much in there to begin with. It is a mini fridge, slightly larger than what kids today bring to college.
As for my home stay, I leave the city proper at around 6 or 6:30 in the evening. I do not go into the city again until the next morning. Ugandans do things differently in the evening than in America. In the US you typically go home, eat, hang out, then go to bed. Here we go home, hang out, eat (as late as 11pm) then go to bed. It is a lot on your stomach (rice, breads, starch etc) to have to climb into bed with, so I try and keep my mum up and talking to me. Then I wake up at 6 am…ooh how I long for the American University schedule!!"
Also, as I was telling my parents yesterday, everyone here is obsessed with being clean. I MUST take two showers a day. One when I wake up in the morning, and one when I get back from school at about 7 pm. These are my host mother's rules. Everyone here dresses very nicely, collared shirts and all. Perhaps that is the same in Benin Kelly?
The next big question is how do I get home? My family owns a car (a Toyota), but the point is for me to assimilate, so I take a taxi. The word taxi is used loosely here. It means that I wait around for a mini-van style public transportation vehicle to show up. Then I have to haggle with the driver, and climb aboard. In the mornings it is easy. In the afternoons I have to go to what is called a taxi park. This is an overwhelming experience, as there are hundreds of "matatus" (taxis's) in a small dusty people filled area, with no signs and no discernible system. Also, all of them look EXACTLY THE SAME. So it's a slightly stressful situation, but I am getting used to it.
People asked me if I have a curfew and such…well not really. But you dont want to take the taxi's at night, especially as a girl. Also, they have what we think of as "American" taxis, which are more expensive, but even those can be unsafe. So if I want to spend the night with my friends in the city, I must ask my mum, the academic director, and then rent a hotel room. It seems to be a slightly obnoxious process (yes yes I know its for my safety), so I have yet to do it.
Tonight I am going to a bachelors or bachelorette party with my mum. Here they are both called the same thing, and sometimes both the bride and groom attend the same one. I am really excited, but also quite scared, because when I asked what to wear, the mum and maid laughed and said they would dress me! So those pictures should be highly amusing. Sorry I haven't uploaded any pics yet…computers and power are a major issue here haha, sooo I am just trying to figure out how I should go about doing that. I am sure that I will have even more news for all of you tomorrow after my party, but you probably won't hear from me for a bit (I have flooded everyone's e-mails enough!
Sept 5
Hello all
Wow, so much has happened since I last wrote to you all! Saturday I went to the source of the Nile!! And for my many University of Chicago friends, well you know how excited that made me. If you don't fall in that group, just know that I was screeching for essentially the whole day! Saturday night many from my group went out to a local pub. Ah yes, for those of you following the story, I went out with Texas Tom and co Friday night, to an Irish bar (haha, called Bubbles O'Leary's). Sunday I had to get some stationary supplies, so me and two other girls went out and got some lunch on our adventure that is shopping in Kampala on a Sunday.
You know how we always ask if they had to kill something out back if food is taking a long time…ummm, well I think that ACTUALLY happened to me!! all of us ordered chicken…as the only things they had that day were chicken, beef or goat. It took over na hour to get a chicken breast and fries…I know they killed it for us 'cause we all had different parts of the bird..ok well I don't know they killed it for me, but I dunno I am assuming. Perhaps someone wants to correct me on that.
Later Sunday I "got" my host family…WOW, wow…everything is crazy here. I have a mom who works in a CD and DVD store, and my father works at a Toyota dealership. I have a youngr brother who attends boarding school and is in 7th grade, and my younger sister is 6 and sits at home. We also have a maid. However unlike America this is not a status symbol. Often times family members give other family members children to cement a bond, and I think this girl is one of those. She does all the washing, market runs, and takes my sister sarah to school. We do not have a table, we eat on mats on the floor. My mum taught me the correct way to sit, so I wouldn't sit improperly and show off my "naughty bits" as Niloofar would say. (Other students' families do have tables by the way). I use the toilet, a pit latrine…think Boundary waters, but with NO seat….squatting skills are necessary here. "Showering" is non-existant. I fill a bucket of water and dump cupfuls onto my head. Yea.
The food has been different, but not bad. Our maid made sure to ask what I like haha. Lots of fruit, no worry of scurvy!
Today I went to an AIDS clinic…wow again..wow. There are going to be lots of wows I am sure, but my time limit is about to run out. More cultural issues and adventures later!!
I MISS YOU ALL!
(culture shock is going to set in in roughly 2 days, b prepaerd!!)
Wow, so much has happened since I last wrote to you all! Saturday I went to the source of the Nile!! And for my many University of Chicago friends, well you know how excited that made me. If you don't fall in that group, just know that I was screeching for essentially the whole day! Saturday night many from my group went out to a local pub. Ah yes, for those of you following the story, I went out with Texas Tom and co Friday night, to an Irish bar (haha, called Bubbles O'Leary's). Sunday I had to get some stationary supplies, so me and two other girls went out and got some lunch on our adventure that is shopping in Kampala on a Sunday.
You know how we always ask if they had to kill something out back if food is taking a long time…ummm, well I think that ACTUALLY happened to me!! all of us ordered chicken…as the only things they had that day were chicken, beef or goat. It took over na hour to get a chicken breast and fries…I know they killed it for us 'cause we all had different parts of the bird..ok well I don't know they killed it for me, but I dunno I am assuming. Perhaps someone wants to correct me on that.
Later Sunday I "got" my host family…WOW, wow…everything is crazy here. I have a mom who works in a CD and DVD store, and my father works at a Toyota dealership. I have a youngr brother who attends boarding school and is in 7th grade, and my younger sister is 6 and sits at home. We also have a maid. However unlike America this is not a status symbol. Often times family members give other family members children to cement a bond, and I think this girl is one of those. She does all the washing, market runs, and takes my sister sarah to school. We do not have a table, we eat on mats on the floor. My mum taught me the correct way to sit, so I wouldn't sit improperly and show off my "naughty bits" as Niloofar would say. (Other students' families do have tables by the way). I use the toilet, a pit latrine…think Boundary waters, but with NO seat….squatting skills are necessary here. "Showering" is non-existant. I fill a bucket of water and dump cupfuls onto my head. Yea.
The food has been different, but not bad. Our maid made sure to ask what I like haha. Lots of fruit, no worry of scurvy!
Today I went to an AIDS clinic…wow again..wow. There are going to be lots of wows I am sure, but my time limit is about to run out. More cultural issues and adventures later!!
I MISS YOU ALL!
(culture shock is going to set in in roughly 2 days, b prepaerd!!)
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)