Hey everybody! I know it's been a long time since my last post. This is actually the last post pertaining to Uganda, so this blog will lie silent for quite a while after this.
After I got back to the US, I had a few days of classes in Chicago to wrap up the study abroad program that I was technically a part of. It was an exhausting three days of pointless "what did you learn?" and "you were so brave!" BS. No offense, GESI staff, if you're reading this. Take it as constructive criticism.
I don't know what I learned from living in Kakira, Uganda for two months. It is not an experience that you can sum up in a journal or a lecture. There seems to be a fallacy that travelers have "an experience" when they go abroad. Can you call living a cohesive experience? It's fragments of sensation, conversations and meetings, frustrations and disappointments, brief contact with others before they disappear into the hazy limbo of "we'll meet again". The same thing happens anywhere; it's still human life.
Not to sound like a jaded hipster or anything, but that's how I see it. People have been asking me "How was Africa?" since I got back. I have summed it up as, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." And it was. There were the amazing moments, like in Murchison Falls, and the terrible moments, like in Crescent Medical Center. It was a blur of time across a small stretch of a giant, diverse, and largely misunderstood continent. But if you want concrete lessons, here's what I've figured out from the trip so far.
1. There are saints and jerks everywhere. There are people like Mama Fina and Ali, who are genuinely caring and open to new people/ideas, and there are people who look out for only their own interests. This is a lesson everyone should learn at some point. I think we would have fewer wars.
2. The foreign aid machine has serious, systemic problems. I can't catalogue exactly what all of them are, and I don't know how to fix them. But admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery. The fact is, trillions of dollars are pouring into Africa every year, and people still can't find water to drink on a daily basis. We need to analyze what channels that money travels through and how it is directed to certain causes rather than others. The world has the resources--the West and Africa both--to develop and move forward to a better life. We just need to find the right way and the right people to utilize them.
3. Missionaries are annoying. Okay, cheap shot, sorry, but they really are. I know these people mean well, but for all its problems, Uganda does not lack faith by any standards. But these people still go over there and preach the gospel to kids in schools for a week and hand out soccer balls and go home and pat themselves on the back. Stay in America and work in a soup kitchen, please. You'll do more good.
4. The world is not safe, but common sense goes a long way to keeping you out of trouble. If you're worried about going abroad, the best advice I can give you is not to be an idiot. Always be aware of your surroundings, be aware of how you look, what you're carrying, where you're going. Try not to be alone, but if you are, just focus on getting from Point A to Point B. Also, you don't have a responsibility to be polite to people. If someone is bothering you, get away. It doesn't matter if you hurt their feelings--your instincts were probably right. Just follow your instincts and the rules of common sense that you usually would use.
5. Go forth and seek what intrigues you. It's important to go out and, like...do stuff. So if you want to go somewhere, it's probably possible. Make it happen. You'll only get stronger and smarter by going out of your comfort zone. Nobody ever experienced life-changing personal growth just sitting on his/her couch.
But yeah, so...that's Uganda. If you've been reading and following this blog, thank you. Really. I appreciate all the encouragement and advice, and am touched that so many people were worried about me. Whether you sent me emails, Facebook messages, or commented on the blog itself, thanks for taking the time and sticking with me.
There's a big chance I'll be spending my Spring Quarter 2012 in South Africa as a reporter/writer for the Cape Times. So hey, if I do...come back to Kasepiki, and I'll be here again. Thanks again everybody!
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Entebbe: I'm leavin', on a jet plane, I don't know when I'll be back again...
Well, this is my last day in Uganda. FSD picked us up from our various homestays and all 14 of us are together again in a hotel on Lake Victoria. We spent most of yesterday driving, though we did goof around in Jinja for a little bit. I had some nostalgia for Kakira, like the I'm-leaving-and-probably-will-never-come-back kind that everybody gets when they leave a place when they've stayed there a while.
On Friday morning, Becky and I got up early to await the arrival of our handlers. At about 8 am four of the girls from work showed up at our house to tell us goodbye. It was really sweet; we took about ten minutes to do pictures and hugs. Then we went back to packing/watching TV with Fina's grandkids (Cynthia, 7; Douglas, 4; Cindy, 3). We had spent the night before playing with them and they drew me some pictures in my notebook which I plan on keeping. Cynthia saw that I was getting addresses and phone numbers in there, so she drew me a house and wrote her full name, the school she goes to, and her grade in lieu of a proper address. I think we were driving the adults crazy with all the noise we were making, but Becky and I were like, "Well, we have been pretty tame. We're playing with these adorable children."
Anyway, FSD came to get us at about 10:30 am and we took some time saying goodbye to Mama Fina, Ruth, and the kids. It was pretty sad; Ruth teared up a little bit. Mama Fina is sweet, even though she drives me a little crazy, and I really think that she will miss us. She is a remarkable woman.
Then we went and picked up Billy and Robert up the road and their mom, Mama Denise, was actually crying, like tears running down her face crying. Becky and I got out and hugged her, since she's always been nice to us and we always go to see her in the market. We shook hands with Johnson, their host dad, and got in the car and headed to Jinja for the last time. After lunch and some wandering, we headed to Entebbe and got here last night at about 6 pm.
I can't believe I'm leaving today! It's been a crazy trip. This is not going to be my last post on Uganda, though--I have a few days of classes in Chicago to finish up the program I'm doing for Northwestern that this whole experience has stemmed from. After all that's over, and I'm home for real in Cincinnati, I may have some other reflections to post and wrap up this whole adventure. For now, I just want to focus on getting back to the U.S. in one piece and not having another three-day odyssey like the one that this trip started with. Stay tuned...the journey begins (continues) again tonight. Wish me luck!
On Friday morning, Becky and I got up early to await the arrival of our handlers. At about 8 am four of the girls from work showed up at our house to tell us goodbye. It was really sweet; we took about ten minutes to do pictures and hugs. Then we went back to packing/watching TV with Fina's grandkids (Cynthia, 7; Douglas, 4; Cindy, 3). We had spent the night before playing with them and they drew me some pictures in my notebook which I plan on keeping. Cynthia saw that I was getting addresses and phone numbers in there, so she drew me a house and wrote her full name, the school she goes to, and her grade in lieu of a proper address. I think we were driving the adults crazy with all the noise we were making, but Becky and I were like, "Well, we have been pretty tame. We're playing with these adorable children."
Anyway, FSD came to get us at about 10:30 am and we took some time saying goodbye to Mama Fina, Ruth, and the kids. It was pretty sad; Ruth teared up a little bit. Mama Fina is sweet, even though she drives me a little crazy, and I really think that she will miss us. She is a remarkable woman.
Then we went and picked up Billy and Robert up the road and their mom, Mama Denise, was actually crying, like tears running down her face crying. Becky and I got out and hugged her, since she's always been nice to us and we always go to see her in the market. We shook hands with Johnson, their host dad, and got in the car and headed to Jinja for the last time. After lunch and some wandering, we headed to Entebbe and got here last night at about 6 pm.
I can't believe I'm leaving today! It's been a crazy trip. This is not going to be my last post on Uganda, though--I have a few days of classes in Chicago to finish up the program I'm doing for Northwestern that this whole experience has stemmed from. After all that's over, and I'm home for real in Cincinnati, I may have some other reflections to post and wrap up this whole adventure. For now, I just want to focus on getting back to the U.S. in one piece and not having another three-day odyssey like the one that this trip started with. Stay tuned...the journey begins (continues) again tonight. Wish me luck!
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Kakira/Kampala: "I was trying to preserve your dignity." "It's a losing battle, but I appreciate the effort."
So, this Friday Becky and I were corralled by our family, mostly Uncle Peter, to go up to Kampala. We were late leaving on Friday, because our co-workers at St. Eliza’s threw a party for us and we weren’t just going to leave, since we didn’t even want to go to Kampala in the first place. The party was really sweet—they fixed us a big lunch and got all of the nursing students, staff, and volunteers together. Our supervisor Joseph, the agricultural expert, and the town health officer all made speeches and Vincent, one of the instructors for the community health workers, was the master of ceremonies. These are all people who we’ve worked with (except Vincent, who, while generally a good guy, pretty much just sits on St. Eliza’s porch and reads the paper/stares at the road) so it was really nice. I ended up making the speech on behalf of the interns, since they wanted us to talk.
“We have nothing for you but gratitude…you have let us into your lives and your hearts and we’re going to miss everybody. Thanks to Joseph, because nothing would have gotten done without him. Thanks to everyone who had a smile for us every day…thanks Halima, Hellen, thanks to Eddie for translating for us, to Sylvia and Esther for everything.” And all that schmaltzy stuff. But it was true, no matter how cheesy.
Afterwards, we went out and took some group pictures in front of St. Eliza’s , which we promised to email to Joseph. It was fun and sad, since I will miss everybody and, honestly, probably will never see any of them again.
Our work at St. Eliza’s is done, but we still have a few administrative things to submit to FSD and GESI. The project is going on well—the bore hole is fixed, the maize that is currently on the school’s land is being harvested to make ready for the planting of the maize for the children, and the seeds, hoes, and saucepans are bought (we got the improved seeds we wanted! Longe 6, yeah!). We’re a bit worried about the timing, since the rains came a few weeks early, which means that the planting is already late. But we know that it’s happening, and everybody seems committed to continuing with what we helped to start. Now all the four of us can do is have faith.
Becky and I packed some stuff and headed off to Kampala immediately after the farewell party. We got into a mutatu (taxi) and headed off to the capital with Ruth.
About halfway there, I was feeling pretty sick. Then I elbowed Becky awake, since she was sitting by the window (I was between her and Ruth) and said, “I need the window.”
“What?”
I pushed her aside, assuming that that would be better than the alternative, and promptly vomited out the window of the speeding taxi. By speeding, I mean that 100 kph is the norm. Becky was just like, “OH MY GOD.”
Unfortunately, I was wearing a dress, which got pushed down by me shoving my body out the window, so I also had one of my boobs out the window. I am assured that everyone on the side of that stretch of road had quite a story to bring home, especially the kids who were excitedly shouting “MZUNGU!” Becky, bless her soul, put an arm around me hide my chest, since I was more worried about throwing up. (I later thanked her for that, and she said she was trying to preserve some of my dignity. I responded that it was a losing battle, but that I appreciated the effort.) After a few minutes, the driver realized that I was vomiting out of his window and onto his car, so he pulled over. After I finished vomiting, I got out of the car, to the wonder of the people in the van and on the roadside. They made me buy a plastic bag at a stand and demonstrated how to use it (“I know how it works, thanks”) and Becky ran and bought me a big water.
“Sorry guys, my bad,” I said to the other taxi passengers as I got back in. It didn’t really do anything about the “What the hell, white girl?” looks on their faces.
Anyway, after that episode, we did eventually reach Kampala. Uncle Peter picked us up and took us to a bar he owns, where they pressured me to drink alcohol and I refused. We then went to a very Western restaurant, which was okay (I was still kind of sick) and Uncle Peter then made the three of us go to a club in the city.
He said, “We’re only going for an hour, so Lynne, don’t complain.”
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be complaining if you weren’t dragging me to a club when I was sick and didn’t want to go.” Peter and Ruth laughed uneasily; I’m sure poor Becky was mortified. The things I put her through…
Becky and I survived an hour of awkward dancing and got to go sleep in a guesthouse a little after midnight. The guest house was kind of a weird place—the sitting room looked like a dilapidated Victorian mansion, Buddhist temple, and tacky American living room all combined. The beds were fairly comfortable though—we had to lock the floor we were on from the inside to keep people from coming in (the staff actually made us do that) and locked our own door as well. I slept with my trusty knife under my pillow. It was a good time all around.
Long story short, we eventually made it back to Kakira. I’m now home for my second to last night in Mama Fina’s house. Speaking of Mama Fina, we bought her some Ugandan moonshine on the way home, Uganda Waragi, her favorite—hey, she’s like 70 and raised 10 kids, she can take shots if she wants to. She was happy with our offering. I can’t believe I have three days left in Uganda! Apologies for the long post; I just have a lot of feelings.
“We have nothing for you but gratitude…you have let us into your lives and your hearts and we’re going to miss everybody. Thanks to Joseph, because nothing would have gotten done without him. Thanks to everyone who had a smile for us every day…thanks Halima, Hellen, thanks to Eddie for translating for us, to Sylvia and Esther for everything.” And all that schmaltzy stuff. But it was true, no matter how cheesy.
Afterwards, we went out and took some group pictures in front of St. Eliza’s , which we promised to email to Joseph. It was fun and sad, since I will miss everybody and, honestly, probably will never see any of them again.
Our work at St. Eliza’s is done, but we still have a few administrative things to submit to FSD and GESI. The project is going on well—the bore hole is fixed, the maize that is currently on the school’s land is being harvested to make ready for the planting of the maize for the children, and the seeds, hoes, and saucepans are bought (we got the improved seeds we wanted! Longe 6, yeah!). We’re a bit worried about the timing, since the rains came a few weeks early, which means that the planting is already late. But we know that it’s happening, and everybody seems committed to continuing with what we helped to start. Now all the four of us can do is have faith.
Becky and I packed some stuff and headed off to Kampala immediately after the farewell party. We got into a mutatu (taxi) and headed off to the capital with Ruth.
About halfway there, I was feeling pretty sick. Then I elbowed Becky awake, since she was sitting by the window (I was between her and Ruth) and said, “I need the window.”
“What?”
I pushed her aside, assuming that that would be better than the alternative, and promptly vomited out the window of the speeding taxi. By speeding, I mean that 100 kph is the norm. Becky was just like, “OH MY GOD.”
Unfortunately, I was wearing a dress, which got pushed down by me shoving my body out the window, so I also had one of my boobs out the window. I am assured that everyone on the side of that stretch of road had quite a story to bring home, especially the kids who were excitedly shouting “MZUNGU!” Becky, bless her soul, put an arm around me hide my chest, since I was more worried about throwing up. (I later thanked her for that, and she said she was trying to preserve some of my dignity. I responded that it was a losing battle, but that I appreciated the effort.) After a few minutes, the driver realized that I was vomiting out of his window and onto his car, so he pulled over. After I finished vomiting, I got out of the car, to the wonder of the people in the van and on the roadside. They made me buy a plastic bag at a stand and demonstrated how to use it (“I know how it works, thanks”) and Becky ran and bought me a big water.
“Sorry guys, my bad,” I said to the other taxi passengers as I got back in. It didn’t really do anything about the “What the hell, white girl?” looks on their faces.
Anyway, after that episode, we did eventually reach Kampala. Uncle Peter picked us up and took us to a bar he owns, where they pressured me to drink alcohol and I refused. We then went to a very Western restaurant, which was okay (I was still kind of sick) and Uncle Peter then made the three of us go to a club in the city.
He said, “We’re only going for an hour, so Lynne, don’t complain.”
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be complaining if you weren’t dragging me to a club when I was sick and didn’t want to go.” Peter and Ruth laughed uneasily; I’m sure poor Becky was mortified. The things I put her through…
Becky and I survived an hour of awkward dancing and got to go sleep in a guesthouse a little after midnight. The guest house was kind of a weird place—the sitting room looked like a dilapidated Victorian mansion, Buddhist temple, and tacky American living room all combined. The beds were fairly comfortable though—we had to lock the floor we were on from the inside to keep people from coming in (the staff actually made us do that) and locked our own door as well. I slept with my trusty knife under my pillow. It was a good time all around.
Long story short, we eventually made it back to Kakira. I’m now home for my second to last night in Mama Fina’s house. Speaking of Mama Fina, we bought her some Ugandan moonshine on the way home, Uganda Waragi, her favorite—hey, she’s like 70 and raised 10 kids, she can take shots if she wants to. She was happy with our offering. I can’t believe I have three days left in Uganda! Apologies for the long post; I just have a lot of feelings.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Kakira: I DON'T LIKE MANGO JUICE. BECKY DOESN'T LIKE MANGO JUICE. NO ONE LIKES MANGO JUICE.
Well, Mama Fina just stormed in to our room when she found out Becky was sick. She made me change the sheets (on both beds...I'm not even sick), made Becky shower, moved all of our stuff around and put blankets on our stuff. Apparently people are coming over to visit Becky because she's sick (she has medicine and we've talked to a good doctor and everything, lest you think I am not worried enough). Is it just a cultural thing in Uganda that sick care sucks?
People always think you should eat more when you have stomach problems. They always want to come in and clean your room when all you want to do is sleep. You're supposed to exercise when you're sick and not sleep. And Mama Fina keeps trying to force feed us mango juice. She did it when I was hospitalized and vomiting every two hours or so, and she's doing it with Becky now. When Becky said she didn't want it, Fina thrust it at me and said, "Lynne. You drink." We have never, ever liked mango juice, asked for mango juice, drank it unless forced, etc. (Yes, we know it's cause she cares. It doesn't make the episode less annoying.)
"Saagala mango juice, Mama Fina."
"Eeehh? You not drink, I spend my money..." Well, we didn't ask for mango juice, so maybe you shouldn't have gone out and bought it. We need to get out of Uganda before either of us gets sick again.
Also, on a sad note, our favorite host brother Ali left us today. The three of us had some really good conversations about America, Uganda, and about religion. Ali is a devout Muslim and Uganda has a lot of Islamaphobia, which he's had trouble with. In school, the other kids used to call him "Ali-Shabbab" after the Muslim terrorist group that operates in Kampala. But he was always very open-minded and really wanted to hear about the U.S., and even though we usually didn't change each others' minds, we were able to hear each other out.
When he left, he sat us down and said, "I really used to hate America, but you have shown me that Americans are good people. It is now my dream to go to America one day. You are my best friends and my sisters...I have something to ask, but I want you to promise that you will still be my sisters afterwards. I wanted to invite you to Islam, for two reasons: One because then you will really be my sisters, and Two because it has brought me joy and I want you to have the same joy as well."
He didn't expect us to convert on the spot or anything; he told us that it was the best gift he could think to give us, so we both appreciated it in the spirit that it was meant. I don't think I'll be converting any time soon, but when I go back to college, I will take a class or two on Islam if I can, because I want to learn more about it.
Ali, who is 21, left to go to Busitema University. (It may sound old, but it's a normal age to start college here.) He has a full government sponsorship to study computer engineering. Best of luck Ali! I hope we meet again someday!
People always think you should eat more when you have stomach problems. They always want to come in and clean your room when all you want to do is sleep. You're supposed to exercise when you're sick and not sleep. And Mama Fina keeps trying to force feed us mango juice. She did it when I was hospitalized and vomiting every two hours or so, and she's doing it with Becky now. When Becky said she didn't want it, Fina thrust it at me and said, "Lynne. You drink." We have never, ever liked mango juice, asked for mango juice, drank it unless forced, etc. (Yes, we know it's cause she cares. It doesn't make the episode less annoying.)
"Saagala mango juice, Mama Fina."
"Eeehh? You not drink, I spend my money..." Well, we didn't ask for mango juice, so maybe you shouldn't have gone out and bought it. We need to get out of Uganda before either of us gets sick again.
Also, on a sad note, our favorite host brother Ali left us today. The three of us had some really good conversations about America, Uganda, and about religion. Ali is a devout Muslim and Uganda has a lot of Islamaphobia, which he's had trouble with. In school, the other kids used to call him "Ali-Shabbab" after the Muslim terrorist group that operates in Kampala. But he was always very open-minded and really wanted to hear about the U.S., and even though we usually didn't change each others' minds, we were able to hear each other out.
When he left, he sat us down and said, "I really used to hate America, but you have shown me that Americans are good people. It is now my dream to go to America one day. You are my best friends and my sisters...I have something to ask, but I want you to promise that you will still be my sisters afterwards. I wanted to invite you to Islam, for two reasons: One because then you will really be my sisters, and Two because it has brought me joy and I want you to have the same joy as well."
He didn't expect us to convert on the spot or anything; he told us that it was the best gift he could think to give us, so we both appreciated it in the spirit that it was meant. I don't think I'll be converting any time soon, but when I go back to college, I will take a class or two on Islam if I can, because I want to learn more about it.
Ali, who is 21, left to go to Busitema University. (It may sound old, but it's a normal age to start college here.) He has a full government sponsorship to study computer engineering. Best of luck Ali! I hope we meet again someday!
Monday, August 8, 2011
Kakira: "I'll give you some medicine...my fist in your face"
Rain, rain, rain all day. It's actually nice, since it cools the place down and keeps it from being dusty. The thing about rain here is that everything stops when it's raining. People don't have cars or umbrellas and most of the roads are dirt, so rain means you're stuck in your house/workplace/wherever. Unlike in the U.S., "it was raining" is an acceptable excuse for not going to work.
On a completely unrelated note, one thing I've run into here that I'm not going to miss is that cops and security guards can stop you to flirt with you and there's nothing you can do about it. Not that that CAN'T happen in the U.S., but you can at least report the person and it's not very common anyway. Becky and I have to stop at a security checkpoint every time we come from town because of the Kakira Sugar Factory, and the guards always stop us for longer than everyone else so that they can talk to us. One time we had a guy who was like, "I'm sick...can you give me some medicine?" *wink* I say we, but really he was flirting with Becky since my general ice-queen vibe didn't make him think that I was interested. She pretended not to understand, and eventually we got through. I was like, "See, this is why I don't talk to people."
But I hate that I have to fear the guards and the cops, because who's going to help me in case of trouble--the boda driver? It will be nice to go home where there's at least a functional police force. Speaking of bodas and trouble though, when I headed to town for the safari last Thursday, the guy was NOT taking me in the direction of the main road, like I had asked. And I was like, "This isn't the way to the main road..." And he was like, "Oh, you wanted to go to the main road? It's 1000" while not turning. And I was like, "PEACE" and hopped off the bike. Not fun times.
Meanwhile, at work today, we didn't do much. On Friday, there was a meeting that I missed because I was going on safari with the parents at Kagogwa Primary, and apparently it went really well. People were singing and dancing and there was lots of hand-shaking, etc. So it's really exciting that people are enthused about the project. This week we really just need to tie up loose ends--finish a workplan to leave with the school, write up our final reports and budget, and that sort of thing.
Also, in case anyone was wondering, I am getting better--I went to a legit doctor in town and she prescribed me an antibiotic for amoeba, which I probably have, and it's been making me a lot better. I can eat now! I'm actually hungry all the time, which is comforting. I'm leaving a week from tomorrow...crazy.
On a completely unrelated note, one thing I've run into here that I'm not going to miss is that cops and security guards can stop you to flirt with you and there's nothing you can do about it. Not that that CAN'T happen in the U.S., but you can at least report the person and it's not very common anyway. Becky and I have to stop at a security checkpoint every time we come from town because of the Kakira Sugar Factory, and the guards always stop us for longer than everyone else so that they can talk to us. One time we had a guy who was like, "I'm sick...can you give me some medicine?" *wink* I say we, but really he was flirting with Becky since my general ice-queen vibe didn't make him think that I was interested. She pretended not to understand, and eventually we got through. I was like, "See, this is why I don't talk to people."
But I hate that I have to fear the guards and the cops, because who's going to help me in case of trouble--the boda driver? It will be nice to go home where there's at least a functional police force. Speaking of bodas and trouble though, when I headed to town for the safari last Thursday, the guy was NOT taking me in the direction of the main road, like I had asked. And I was like, "This isn't the way to the main road..." And he was like, "Oh, you wanted to go to the main road? It's 1000" while not turning. And I was like, "PEACE" and hopped off the bike. Not fun times.
Meanwhile, at work today, we didn't do much. On Friday, there was a meeting that I missed because I was going on safari with the parents at Kagogwa Primary, and apparently it went really well. People were singing and dancing and there was lots of hand-shaking, etc. So it's really exciting that people are enthused about the project. This week we really just need to tie up loose ends--finish a workplan to leave with the school, write up our final reports and budget, and that sort of thing.
Also, in case anyone was wondering, I am getting better--I went to a legit doctor in town and she prescribed me an antibiotic for amoeba, which I probably have, and it's been making me a lot better. I can eat now! I'm actually hungry all the time, which is comforting. I'm leaving a week from tomorrow...crazy.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Murchison Falls: The world is just awesome
The reason that I haven't updated for a while is that I was on SAFARI. I was gone from Thursday night to this afternoon. It was the best weekend ever, or was at least one of the best ones in my (admittedly generally uneventful) life.
I stayed at Backpackers in Jinja on Thursday night because our guide, Emma (short for Emmanuel), picked us up at 5 am on Friday morning in his party van, which was a party because we were in it, not because it was really different from other vans. The party was comprised of me, Mikey and Kirk of the rafting trip, Amanda, another intern, and two women from Spain, Lidia and Claudia. We headed northwest towards Muchison Falls National Park. Here is a map of Uganda in case anyone wants a visual on where we went (we left from Jinja): http://www.lonelyplanet.com/maps/africa/uganda/
We spent most of the day driving, but around lunchtime we stopped in Massindi, a town relatively close to Murchison Falls. We all got snacks at the supermarket, and Mikey picked up a block of something that he said looked like a sweet (I thought it looked like wood). It said Tamarind on the package, but neither of us knew what that was, so he just went ahead and took a huge bite. A silence ensued.
"...is it good?"
"It's vile."
This story has no relevance to the rest of the trip, but it was hilarious when, after talking to Kirk, we figured out that tamarind is, in fact basically a nearly inedible dried fruit, which most of you may or may not have known, but it was still funny. Anyway. Moving on.
We drove on, stopping nearby for lunch, and eventually got up into the mountains, which were lush and green. Emma spent a while driving on the winding roads, and eventually we came upon some baboons in the road, which was cool. More surprising, though, was an old white couple biking on the side of the road. We were literally in the middle of nowhere--where had they come from and where were they going? Pretty hardcore.
We eventually arrived at a safari park. It isn't actually open yet, and only has a few completed structures, but Emma knew the owner, so we got to stay there. It was weird being the only people in the place, but we did get to do whatever we wanted. Mostly we hung out at the lodge that was overlooking the Albert Nile, the section of the Nile that feeds into Lake Albert, which is on the border of Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. You could hear the hippos snorting in the river from there.
On Saturday we started at 6:30 and headed into Murchison Falls National Park. We spent the morning driving in the party van, looking at lots of gazelles and buffalo, and some awesome giraffes. They are actually a lot shorter than I thought they would be, especially the females. And then we found a lion! A male lion with only three legs. It turns out that poachers had set a wire trap and he had been unlucky enough to get caught in it. The rangers at the park had to call a vet to operate in order to save him. Part of the reason that we saw him was because he couldn't walk far without getting tired, so he kept stopping. F*ing poachers. I will punch you in the face. All of you.
We found his wife and cubs, who take care of him now by bringing him food. We couldn't get as close to them, though, since female lions are more aggressive, especially when it comes to cubs, and will actually jump in your car and mess you up.
Moving on, we saw a group of hippos in a little lake, where Emma cut up pineapple and we ate it right out of the rind for breakfast (it was only about 8 or 9 am at this point).
The sun roof was big enough for three of us to stand on the seat at a time and have half of their bodies out of the car. Riding through the savannah was amazing. I stayed up there until the people still in the back made me get down so they could have a turn.
After lunch, we drove out to the actual falls. I have never seen a more beautiful waterfall.
Murchison Falls could reasonably be called "Jaws of Death", because that's what it looked like. Huge amounts of rushing water are pushed into a narrow but deep cavern of dark stone that empties into a yawning chasm. There is a whirlpool developed there, and the water proceeds down a short distance before emptying into the calm Albert-Nile. The cliffs are covered in lush greenery and trees hang on their edges. A fine mist pervades the air from the crashing waves.
Okay, sorry, that description was really fun to write. Anyway.
We hiked about 45 minutes through the woods and ended up on some rocks that stuck out into the water. We waited a while for a boat (previously chartered) to pick us up. Many boats full of tourists, who were mostly British for some reason, stared at us like we were wildlife and some of them even took pictures. Mikey summed up our reaction the best: "In 5 years, they'll look at those pictures and say, "I'm glad we took pictures of those random people. That was really significant."
Our boat picked us up eventually. We saw HUGE crocodiles and some more hippos on the way back to our port. As we neared land, we noticed a giant, foreboding storm cloud coming closer to us. We didn't really have a choice but to go ahead and wait for it to hit. The rain started pounding us and lighting/thunder were right there. There was a group of young tourist girls and their moms on the boat, and they were literally crying and saying, "We're gonna die."
Our reaction, on the other hand, was to ask for free beer. They said no.
After the boat ride, we headed back to the campsite to shower and change, and had another delicious meal. We got up this morning at 3:40 am (I don't think I've ever gotten up that early for anything ever) and headed back to Massindi to go find some chimps. Emma picked up some guy in town who said he was a chimp guide, God knows why he didn't pick someone with credentials, and the guy hopped in our car and drove with us to where there were some chimps in a field, eating sugarcane. We walked over to them slowly, and the guy basically was just like, "Walk slowly." We got really close to the chimps, but after a few minutes they started talking to each other. We all exchanged looks. This continued until the biggest male jumped into the tree nearest us and loomed over us menacingly. We then decided that it was time to go. We dropped the "guide" off (Emma disinterestedly handed him 1000 shillings and told him to get out) and we headed back to town. We dropped off Lidia and Claudia at the taxi park so that they could continue their trek across Uganda, and headed home. I got back at about 3:30 and have been chilling at home ever since.
This was hands-down one of the best weekends of my life. I saw amazing landscapes, exotic animals, and just chilled with some awesome people. The world is just awesome. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0jZzBEKIMc)
I stayed at Backpackers in Jinja on Thursday night because our guide, Emma (short for Emmanuel), picked us up at 5 am on Friday morning in his party van, which was a party because we were in it, not because it was really different from other vans. The party was comprised of me, Mikey and Kirk of the rafting trip, Amanda, another intern, and two women from Spain, Lidia and Claudia. We headed northwest towards Muchison Falls National Park. Here is a map of Uganda in case anyone wants a visual on where we went (we left from Jinja): http://www.lonelyplanet.com/maps/africa/uganda/
We spent most of the day driving, but around lunchtime we stopped in Massindi, a town relatively close to Murchison Falls. We all got snacks at the supermarket, and Mikey picked up a block of something that he said looked like a sweet (I thought it looked like wood). It said Tamarind on the package, but neither of us knew what that was, so he just went ahead and took a huge bite. A silence ensued.
"...is it good?"
"It's vile."
This story has no relevance to the rest of the trip, but it was hilarious when, after talking to Kirk, we figured out that tamarind is, in fact basically a nearly inedible dried fruit, which most of you may or may not have known, but it was still funny. Anyway. Moving on.
We drove on, stopping nearby for lunch, and eventually got up into the mountains, which were lush and green. Emma spent a while driving on the winding roads, and eventually we came upon some baboons in the road, which was cool. More surprising, though, was an old white couple biking on the side of the road. We were literally in the middle of nowhere--where had they come from and where were they going? Pretty hardcore.
We eventually arrived at a safari park. It isn't actually open yet, and only has a few completed structures, but Emma knew the owner, so we got to stay there. It was weird being the only people in the place, but we did get to do whatever we wanted. Mostly we hung out at the lodge that was overlooking the Albert Nile, the section of the Nile that feeds into Lake Albert, which is on the border of Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. You could hear the hippos snorting in the river from there.
On Saturday we started at 6:30 and headed into Murchison Falls National Park. We spent the morning driving in the party van, looking at lots of gazelles and buffalo, and some awesome giraffes. They are actually a lot shorter than I thought they would be, especially the females. And then we found a lion! A male lion with only three legs. It turns out that poachers had set a wire trap and he had been unlucky enough to get caught in it. The rangers at the park had to call a vet to operate in order to save him. Part of the reason that we saw him was because he couldn't walk far without getting tired, so he kept stopping. F*ing poachers. I will punch you in the face. All of you.
We found his wife and cubs, who take care of him now by bringing him food. We couldn't get as close to them, though, since female lions are more aggressive, especially when it comes to cubs, and will actually jump in your car and mess you up.
Moving on, we saw a group of hippos in a little lake, where Emma cut up pineapple and we ate it right out of the rind for breakfast (it was only about 8 or 9 am at this point).
The sun roof was big enough for three of us to stand on the seat at a time and have half of their bodies out of the car. Riding through the savannah was amazing. I stayed up there until the people still in the back made me get down so they could have a turn.
After lunch, we drove out to the actual falls. I have never seen a more beautiful waterfall.
Murchison Falls could reasonably be called "Jaws of Death", because that's what it looked like. Huge amounts of rushing water are pushed into a narrow but deep cavern of dark stone that empties into a yawning chasm. There is a whirlpool developed there, and the water proceeds down a short distance before emptying into the calm Albert-Nile. The cliffs are covered in lush greenery and trees hang on their edges. A fine mist pervades the air from the crashing waves.
Okay, sorry, that description was really fun to write. Anyway.
We hiked about 45 minutes through the woods and ended up on some rocks that stuck out into the water. We waited a while for a boat (previously chartered) to pick us up. Many boats full of tourists, who were mostly British for some reason, stared at us like we were wildlife and some of them even took pictures. Mikey summed up our reaction the best: "In 5 years, they'll look at those pictures and say, "I'm glad we took pictures of those random people. That was really significant."
Our boat picked us up eventually. We saw HUGE crocodiles and some more hippos on the way back to our port. As we neared land, we noticed a giant, foreboding storm cloud coming closer to us. We didn't really have a choice but to go ahead and wait for it to hit. The rain started pounding us and lighting/thunder were right there. There was a group of young tourist girls and their moms on the boat, and they were literally crying and saying, "We're gonna die."
Our reaction, on the other hand, was to ask for free beer. They said no.
After the boat ride, we headed back to the campsite to shower and change, and had another delicious meal. We got up this morning at 3:40 am (I don't think I've ever gotten up that early for anything ever) and headed back to Massindi to go find some chimps. Emma picked up some guy in town who said he was a chimp guide, God knows why he didn't pick someone with credentials, and the guy hopped in our car and drove with us to where there were some chimps in a field, eating sugarcane. We walked over to them slowly, and the guy basically was just like, "Walk slowly." We got really close to the chimps, but after a few minutes they started talking to each other. We all exchanged looks. This continued until the biggest male jumped into the tree nearest us and loomed over us menacingly. We then decided that it was time to go. We dropped the "guide" off (Emma disinterestedly handed him 1000 shillings and told him to get out) and we headed back to town. We dropped off Lidia and Claudia at the taxi park so that they could continue their trek across Uganda, and headed home. I got back at about 3:30 and have been chilling at home ever since.
This was hands-down one of the best weekends of my life. I saw amazing landscapes, exotic animals, and just chilled with some awesome people. The world is just awesome. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0jZzBEKIMc)
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Jinja/Kakira: I'm glad you think of me as the misunderstood teenage daughter.
Life is a lot less fun when eating is not something to look forward to.
Yeah, whatever I had, it wasn’t malaria, so I’m still sick. I went to a good doctor today instead of the people at Crescent Medical Center and she thinks I have a bacterial thing. Hopefully I’ll know by tomorrow when my lab results are in. But for the past week, every time I have to have a meal, it’s literally painful. My host family thinks, for some reason, that when you have stomach problems you should eat big meals, so they get upset when I don’t want to eat much. Mama Fina hovers and makes me feel guilty about not eating, and I’m just like, “I’M DOING MY BEST, OK.” It’s really frustrating. Also, I have to say, I’m getting sick of Ugandan food. It’s not bad, I’ve just never lived in a place where you literally eat the same four things every single day—matooke (steamed and mashed plaintains), beans, rice, and greens. I never considered how most developing countries have only a few staple foods—and that’s actually all the people eat. People always ask what I eat in the U.S., and it’s hard to explain, since there’s so much variety. If you name one or two things you like, people tend to assume that you eat those things every day. That is one thing I really miss about the U.S.: variety. But when you can barely get the food or the water to cook it with, I suppose that it isn’t something you worry about. First world problem right there.
I haven’t posted in a bit since I have just been lying around sick, so not much to report. (I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with bated breath for my next utterance.) Becky and I went to Jinja today to shop around for some stuff for the agriculture project—mainly improved maize seeds, saucepans to cook the porridge, and hoes for digging/planting. We bought ten hoes with handle sticks for a little less than we’d budgeted for—score!—but none of the agriculture stores had the seeds we needed, since farmers are on those seeds at the beginning of the planting season like a mother on Target at 5 am on Black Friday . Hopefully they will be in tomorrow.
Our search for saucepans took us to the scrap yards at the edge of town, which were almost their own village. The place was a labyrinth of stalls with ridged metal roofs where men worked on metal using hammers and iron pegs. Scrap is big business in Uganda—in fact, it’s probably the reason that the borehole at Kagogwa Primary was broken in the first place. Many of the boreholes in Uganda are vandalized because people want the parts from the pumps so that they can sell them. The fact that any usable metal is so valuable results in the sprawl of the scrap yards, which I’m sure exist in Kampala and elsewhere as well as Jinja. While we were walking through looking at different sizes of saucepans, I kept trying to think of the best way to describe it—the only thing I can think of, and this may be totally off-base, is what shipyards in Dickens’ London must have looked like. It was really cool, but kind of scary, since it was clear that it was not a place that mzungus went (ever) and we were drawing even more attention than usual. We weren’t able to get a fair price for anything, so we made a deal with a shop owner near the big market in Jinja for a special order of saucepans that will be less than a third of the price of one saucepan in the scrap yard. So that was work today—hopefully we will be back up at the school soon to meet with parents, which we haven’t done yet. We only have a week and half of work left!
Yeah, whatever I had, it wasn’t malaria, so I’m still sick. I went to a good doctor today instead of the people at Crescent Medical Center and she thinks I have a bacterial thing. Hopefully I’ll know by tomorrow when my lab results are in. But for the past week, every time I have to have a meal, it’s literally painful. My host family thinks, for some reason, that when you have stomach problems you should eat big meals, so they get upset when I don’t want to eat much. Mama Fina hovers and makes me feel guilty about not eating, and I’m just like, “I’M DOING MY BEST, OK.” It’s really frustrating. Also, I have to say, I’m getting sick of Ugandan food. It’s not bad, I’ve just never lived in a place where you literally eat the same four things every single day—matooke (steamed and mashed plaintains), beans, rice, and greens. I never considered how most developing countries have only a few staple foods—and that’s actually all the people eat. People always ask what I eat in the U.S., and it’s hard to explain, since there’s so much variety. If you name one or two things you like, people tend to assume that you eat those things every day. That is one thing I really miss about the U.S.: variety. But when you can barely get the food or the water to cook it with, I suppose that it isn’t something you worry about. First world problem right there.
I haven’t posted in a bit since I have just been lying around sick, so not much to report. (I’m sure you’ve all been waiting with bated breath for my next utterance.) Becky and I went to Jinja today to shop around for some stuff for the agriculture project—mainly improved maize seeds, saucepans to cook the porridge, and hoes for digging/planting. We bought ten hoes with handle sticks for a little less than we’d budgeted for—score!—but none of the agriculture stores had the seeds we needed, since farmers are on those seeds at the beginning of the planting season like a mother on Target at 5 am on Black Friday . Hopefully they will be in tomorrow.
Our search for saucepans took us to the scrap yards at the edge of town, which were almost their own village. The place was a labyrinth of stalls with ridged metal roofs where men worked on metal using hammers and iron pegs. Scrap is big business in Uganda—in fact, it’s probably the reason that the borehole at Kagogwa Primary was broken in the first place. Many of the boreholes in Uganda are vandalized because people want the parts from the pumps so that they can sell them. The fact that any usable metal is so valuable results in the sprawl of the scrap yards, which I’m sure exist in Kampala and elsewhere as well as Jinja. While we were walking through looking at different sizes of saucepans, I kept trying to think of the best way to describe it—the only thing I can think of, and this may be totally off-base, is what shipyards in Dickens’ London must have looked like. It was really cool, but kind of scary, since it was clear that it was not a place that mzungus went (ever) and we were drawing even more attention than usual. We weren’t able to get a fair price for anything, so we made a deal with a shop owner near the big market in Jinja for a special order of saucepans that will be less than a third of the price of one saucepan in the scrap yard. So that was work today—hopefully we will be back up at the school soon to meet with parents, which we haven’t done yet. We only have a week and half of work left!
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