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
Sunday, October 29, 2006
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
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