Its funny how if you get two things accomplished in a day here, it is a good day, yet when I think about all that has happened since my last blog there is too much to write about. I think this blog will be less a chronology and more about the things I don’t want to forget or that have made me laugh.
- I have adapted to, at any point, no matter how intently I am focused on something, to thrusting my arms out and clapping violently at the slightest hint of a mosquito. I also have worked past any hesitation at smacking any part of myself if a mosquito lands on me. The sound of me slapping my own ear is a new sound to my 28 years on this earth. It isn’t that there are that many of them. It’s that when they whiz by my ear at 3 in the morning I can’t sleep and I’m taking it personally. My kill ratio is not quite up to Karate Kid standards but what I lack in skill I make up for in gumption.
- Gerald, the day guard of our compound, is iconic. On our first day he forgot Ginger and Meagan’s names and said. “Sometimes we need to be reminded, because we are all human and forget things.” Last year when the water wouldn’t flow out of the cistern he said, “Let me do some small technology” and shoved a stick up the drain. Now, Gerald keeps throwing the loose vegetation and organic trash over our wall in our backyard. He has a rickety ladder he climbs and just dumps it. I have no idea what is on the other side of the fence, other than our trash. We have theorized there may be goats which eat the trash or a compost pile, but we don’t smell the trash nor do we see smoke from it being burned or hear goats bleating. My vote is Gerald has found a trash abyss, a full fledged crevasse, into which our leaves flutter down.
- We were at SAS and desperately needed caffeine before an 11 o’clock meeting, which was actually supposed to be a 10 o’clock meeting but we found out it got postponed when we arrived. So we go next door and ask if we can get coffee in the next 15 minutes, it being 9:40. The waitress says yes and I even change my order to coffee like Meagan and Ginger in order to save time. Ten minutes later three teas come out. None of us ordered tea, but we take it. We give her money immediately, saying we are in a rush, and have our tea. As Ginger and Meagan sip away and I gulp my chai burning my tongue, I get increasingly tense as my watch tells me we are late, more late, and then uber late. At 11:20 I ask how late are we comfortable being, probably with a little attitude. At this point we still don’t have change and I secretly want to hunt our waitress down for my shillings. Ginger and Meagan seem unworried.
We finally walk into the office at 11:35 only to find the meeting hasn’t started yet. When it does start at 11:45 it goes on for 30 minutes with us shut in another room. Apparently there was private business to discuss. So we wait in a closed office and just like when you wait in a doctor’s office I want to mess with things or dance for the rush from the risk of getting caught. Around 12:15 we are included to the meeting and it lasts much longer than it needed to. Conclusion, I am SO American and next time order more tea, I mean coffee.
- My wristwatch alarm goes off every night at 7:31 pm. It used to go off at 11:31, but then I figured out how to change the time. For the life of me I can’t figure out how to turn it off though. Meagan told me last year she had a wristwatch with an alarm she couldn’t turn off. Now it is lost somewhere in her car and she sometimes hears it and laughs. Turns out we bought the exact same watch and I envision smiling in my apartment back home when I hear it go off.
- Every other time Meagan steps in the bathroom at night the apartment is filled with her screams at the latest cockroach. This is the signal for us to take battle stations. Meagan keeps an eye on it, I grab a shoe or something and kill it then squeal and run away grossed out and Ginger picks up the dead cockroach with a patent-pending technique. We then yell at it as it is flushed. The weird thing is I’ve never seen a cockroach in there by myself. It can’t be that they hear me coming and don’t hear Meagan because 1) Meagan is loud and 2) I’m apparently so quiet that I keep on scaring Meagan. She says I’m a lurker. I feel like any day now I’ll turn around and see eight of them circling me. In related news, we bought some new toilet paper that said it was green. I interpreted this to mean it was from made from recycled materials. No, it’s green. Why isn’t there colored TP back home? Think of all the tacky pattern and seasonal colors we’re missing out on.
I’m making it sound like it is all fun and games here. Honestly, we are working a lot too. We finished processing the pre-tests which was really involved. First each test gets graded and tallies of correct, incorrect, unsure, or missing data are added. Then each test gets numbered and we record the student’s name and number in a book, then we record all 32 pieces of info from the test into an excel sheet. We were taking bets on how many we had and it was over 2300. Moses and the three of us have been working feverishly on two computers at once to finish them. Of course, when we proudly reported being finished with data entry the next question everyone asks is when the results will be available. That is what we are doing now and it is painstaking.
We also lost some hours of work because I accidentally coded several hundred tests wrong and had to work some magic with excel’s find and replace function. That was before we cut the files into smaller worksheets and our computers were bogging down too. I would make a correction and two minutes later it would happen. Meagan and Ginger were great about it though and when they had every right to push me in a ditch they hugged me, said it could have happened to anyone and suggested we grab a beer. Good friends. The beer wasn’t bad either ;)
After my confidence was shot from the rookie mistake, today was a good day because I was out making contacts for my own interests and had a great meeting with the HR guy at the Ugandan Human Rights Commission. Traveling around the city is really manageable for me and the city seems smaller every day. Tomorrow I head out again to more big name humanitarian organizations and because my emails aren’t being returned and I show up without an appointment it feels like speed dating. I show up, introduce myself, try to explain how great I am and why they should let me spend more time with them, then I try to get a number before I go.
I haven’t networked as much as I wanted to considering how exhausting the days are here and with not feeling my best due to the anti-malarial (got a new one at SAS clinic, yeah!) the days pass by quickly. We don’t have much time left. One month is nothing and we are traveling to Hoima, Gulu, conducting focus groups in Kampala, and also hope to make a trip to the southwest part of Uganda to Mary’s village. (Please watch the video of the amazing Mary give pre-tests on the photo link to the right). It is going by so quickly but before I came I set one goal for myself: get there to see if you like it. I’m here and I like it. Good to know.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
June 10th-15th
June 10th – 14
Last Friday we decided to go the Uganda National Center for Science and Technology. Despite having ethical research approval through both the University of Memphis and Makerere University, G&M still have to get approval from the government. This is a new requirement since 2008 and they still have not heard back with in acceptance or rejection despite having turned it in years ago. Lest you think its corruption, I have heard from three other academics that got approval in a week. But we were encouraged to give it another try so we headed downtown to the office which has no sign.
An hour of matatus later we get to the office only to find it’s moved to a location very near where we started from. By this point we were exhausted so we stopped to have some samosas and a banana split downtown. Not only is it hot downtown because the buildings block the air flow, but you constantly have to watch your step for boda bodas, cars, pedestrians, and vendors. Often a sewer or drainage ditch will lack a cover so you have to not step into the 2ft wide opening in the cement while also looking for the rare street sign and while also shaking your head no to all the boda boda drivers who assume we would rather pay than walk because we are white. Basically it is an assault on the senses and we usually find ourselves in need of a break after what would be considered an easy travel in the States.
So we get to the new location of the UNCST, go through a security check which involved a walk-through metal detector which wasn’t plugged in only to find they have no idea where the application is and the person who would know is on vacation. The girls didn’t expect much and we just laughed it off. That day we also had no running water and the electricity kept going out so we came home to bathing the old school way with a small basin and a thermos of heated water we got from a rain water cistern outside.
Saturday was a full day. We left early to go to Kyengera, a suburb of Kampala about an hour away via matatu. We went to the new taxi park (see in the pictures) which I’m told looks older than the old taxi park. Basically you have to know where the vans are going amidst a see of vans. We were going because our friend Moses who is helping us with our research arranged for us to come to a secondary school near his home so we could try our focus group questions out on an extracurricular club. Before that though he made us a fabulous meal at his home and we chatted to him and his friend Innocent while neighbors’ children came and sat by us and played with our shoes.
As we ate it started to pour rain and looked like a hurricane was outside. By the time we had to go it was still raining and we had to get wet on our way to the school. The focus group went brilliantly and Moses, who had never led a focus group before, was a complete natural. There were 25 students and for a focus group you want no more than 15, so it was a difficult task to get that many teens to talk about HIV.
We stopped back at his place on the way home and exchanged the wet coats we had for some sweaters. I had placed my purse down as I put the too-small sweater on when I heard Meagan shoo something away. I looked only to find a chicken in my purse. My purse was the perfect size for it and it took its time getting out as we shooed it. My only hope was that it didn’t leave any presents for me!
We walked down the road to try to catch and boda. By this point we are really wet, my hair looks like I just got out of the shower, my cloth shoes are acting like sponges, and the dirt roads are wet and full of puddles. We catch one boda which can seat two of the four of us but the other distance boda we flagged down can’t start. This was not inspiring my confidence. It finally starts only to fly by us so we have to wait for another. We get another and hold on for dear life with the rain hitting our faces and making us squint.
At the top of a hill the boda’s engine stops. I’ve seen matatus turn off at red lights to save gas and I hope that the driver wants to ride the hill down with gravity. Meagan and I kept up with Ginger and Innocent for a while, but when the road evened out we came to a stop. The driver starts frantically kicking the kick-start and after maybe 12 tries Meagan and I ask if we should get off. The driver ignores us and keeps kicking away. Keep in mind we are 1 foot away from the driver, Meagan is touching him, yet he doesn’t respond even when she says Sir! in Luganda. By this point Meagan, myself, and the peanut gallery of twelve or so people we stopped in front of are laughing. To see one white person is rare in this suburb. To see two on a broke down boda in the rain with a driver who is ignoring us as he kicks away is hilarious. I looked at two men who were really enjoying the entertainment and threw my hands up laughing.
Eventually the engine started and the two men threw their hands up in celebration as did I, only to have the engine die again in 4 seconds. By this point I said to Meagan, “This is ultimately pathetic. Here we are two white girls on a broken boda with a driver who is ignoring us, soaked and freezing with the cold rain, me with a too-small sweater and probably chicken poop in my purse. All you can do is laugh.
Eventually he got the engine going but had it revving high in neutral. Meagan and I held on for dear life because we knew when he put the boda in drive we would take off so we waved our goodbyes to the still laughing audience and clung to anything we could grab as he sped away. Both of us were thinking that if the boda slipped and we fell we would get completely covered with the terracotta colored mud. We would look like those mud people at Woodstock and have to ride the hour long matatu back to Kampala like that. On the matatu we caught I sat next to a nun so that would have been really horrible!
We got back and it was still raining. We were cold, wet, and exhausted and accidentally took the wrong direction, walking needlessly in the rain. By the time we got back home our only consolation was that we had running water and electricity. I managed to change into dry clothes then slept for a few hours. It was a great day but it wore me out.
Sunday morning we took it easy to recover but we had to prepare for the birthday party we were throwing for Joan that night. We had decided we wanted to make tacos because we love them and we thought Joan’s two kids would like them too. Keep in mind, Mexico is far away from Uganda and you can’t find salsa in stores here. So we made salsa, guacamole, and taco spices for the meet from scratch. We had to settle for nachos because we couldn’t find anything like a tortilla, but the result was fabulous. I kept having to go back for items we thought we had but didn’t, like a can opener and ripe enough avocados and CHEESE but after the fifth trip we had it all.
Joan loved her earrings and necklace and we also got gifts for her two kids, Louis and Lighten. We got them Roal Dahl’s books The Crocodile with Enormous Teeth and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and we also ordered a cake (with some difficulty) from the local market. Joan said it was the best birthday she ever had and cried. Success! She even loved the food but her kids and house-girl Dafflin weren’t fond of the spices. The food here is really bland but Ginger made plain meat too so they had food to enjoy. Ginger did all the cooking and Meagan and I told her we are making that food again!
Monday I caught up with work as G&M went to a school observation with Mary. Mary invited us to see her village in the West and we are trying to plan things out amidst our other trips for SAS. A friend of our, Pharouk, saw me on facebook, said hello and that he would stop by the apartment shortly. I’m not used to people inviting themselves but that happens a lot here. He did stop by and talked for an hour then we all caught up with him at a restaurant named Alfredo’s with every kind of food but Italian. The electricity went out and bats were flying in the fruit trees above us. The fruit was so ripe that grape-sized fruit kept falling on us, making us spook. It was hilarious.
Tuesday we hit the data entry hard. Moses cam over to help and we had an assembly line going. One person numbered the pre-tests, another wrote down the numbers associated with the student’s names in our codebook, and two of us entered the 32 data points into the computer. After hours of work we got to student number 745 which was over 23,000 data points. Last summer they only had 600 students and now we are taking bets on how many we have. My guess is 2800, the girl guessed less but then they lost confidence and wanted a re-bet when we hit 1000. It’s like the games in kindergarten where you guess how many jelly beans are in the mason jar.
Wednesday we are getting new passport photos taken because we heard back from the UNCST and we have to do a partial re-submit of one form, a letter of recommendation, and new photos. Hopefully this will work and we will get IRB approval which allows us to publish. All fingers are crossed!
Last Friday we decided to go the Uganda National Center for Science and Technology. Despite having ethical research approval through both the University of Memphis and Makerere University, G&M still have to get approval from the government. This is a new requirement since 2008 and they still have not heard back with in acceptance or rejection despite having turned it in years ago. Lest you think its corruption, I have heard from three other academics that got approval in a week. But we were encouraged to give it another try so we headed downtown to the office which has no sign.
An hour of matatus later we get to the office only to find it’s moved to a location very near where we started from. By this point we were exhausted so we stopped to have some samosas and a banana split downtown. Not only is it hot downtown because the buildings block the air flow, but you constantly have to watch your step for boda bodas, cars, pedestrians, and vendors. Often a sewer or drainage ditch will lack a cover so you have to not step into the 2ft wide opening in the cement while also looking for the rare street sign and while also shaking your head no to all the boda boda drivers who assume we would rather pay than walk because we are white. Basically it is an assault on the senses and we usually find ourselves in need of a break after what would be considered an easy travel in the States.
So we get to the new location of the UNCST, go through a security check which involved a walk-through metal detector which wasn’t plugged in only to find they have no idea where the application is and the person who would know is on vacation. The girls didn’t expect much and we just laughed it off. That day we also had no running water and the electricity kept going out so we came home to bathing the old school way with a small basin and a thermos of heated water we got from a rain water cistern outside.
Saturday was a full day. We left early to go to Kyengera, a suburb of Kampala about an hour away via matatu. We went to the new taxi park (see in the pictures) which I’m told looks older than the old taxi park. Basically you have to know where the vans are going amidst a see of vans. We were going because our friend Moses who is helping us with our research arranged for us to come to a secondary school near his home so we could try our focus group questions out on an extracurricular club. Before that though he made us a fabulous meal at his home and we chatted to him and his friend Innocent while neighbors’ children came and sat by us and played with our shoes.
As we ate it started to pour rain and looked like a hurricane was outside. By the time we had to go it was still raining and we had to get wet on our way to the school. The focus group went brilliantly and Moses, who had never led a focus group before, was a complete natural. There were 25 students and for a focus group you want no more than 15, so it was a difficult task to get that many teens to talk about HIV.
We stopped back at his place on the way home and exchanged the wet coats we had for some sweaters. I had placed my purse down as I put the too-small sweater on when I heard Meagan shoo something away. I looked only to find a chicken in my purse. My purse was the perfect size for it and it took its time getting out as we shooed it. My only hope was that it didn’t leave any presents for me!
We walked down the road to try to catch and boda. By this point we are really wet, my hair looks like I just got out of the shower, my cloth shoes are acting like sponges, and the dirt roads are wet and full of puddles. We catch one boda which can seat two of the four of us but the other distance boda we flagged down can’t start. This was not inspiring my confidence. It finally starts only to fly by us so we have to wait for another. We get another and hold on for dear life with the rain hitting our faces and making us squint.
At the top of a hill the boda’s engine stops. I’ve seen matatus turn off at red lights to save gas and I hope that the driver wants to ride the hill down with gravity. Meagan and I kept up with Ginger and Innocent for a while, but when the road evened out we came to a stop. The driver starts frantically kicking the kick-start and after maybe 12 tries Meagan and I ask if we should get off. The driver ignores us and keeps kicking away. Keep in mind we are 1 foot away from the driver, Meagan is touching him, yet he doesn’t respond even when she says Sir! in Luganda. By this point Meagan, myself, and the peanut gallery of twelve or so people we stopped in front of are laughing. To see one white person is rare in this suburb. To see two on a broke down boda in the rain with a driver who is ignoring us as he kicks away is hilarious. I looked at two men who were really enjoying the entertainment and threw my hands up laughing.
Eventually the engine started and the two men threw their hands up in celebration as did I, only to have the engine die again in 4 seconds. By this point I said to Meagan, “This is ultimately pathetic. Here we are two white girls on a broken boda with a driver who is ignoring us, soaked and freezing with the cold rain, me with a too-small sweater and probably chicken poop in my purse. All you can do is laugh.
Eventually he got the engine going but had it revving high in neutral. Meagan and I held on for dear life because we knew when he put the boda in drive we would take off so we waved our goodbyes to the still laughing audience and clung to anything we could grab as he sped away. Both of us were thinking that if the boda slipped and we fell we would get completely covered with the terracotta colored mud. We would look like those mud people at Woodstock and have to ride the hour long matatu back to Kampala like that. On the matatu we caught I sat next to a nun so that would have been really horrible!
We got back and it was still raining. We were cold, wet, and exhausted and accidentally took the wrong direction, walking needlessly in the rain. By the time we got back home our only consolation was that we had running water and electricity. I managed to change into dry clothes then slept for a few hours. It was a great day but it wore me out.
Sunday morning we took it easy to recover but we had to prepare for the birthday party we were throwing for Joan that night. We had decided we wanted to make tacos because we love them and we thought Joan’s two kids would like them too. Keep in mind, Mexico is far away from Uganda and you can’t find salsa in stores here. So we made salsa, guacamole, and taco spices for the meet from scratch. We had to settle for nachos because we couldn’t find anything like a tortilla, but the result was fabulous. I kept having to go back for items we thought we had but didn’t, like a can opener and ripe enough avocados and CHEESE but after the fifth trip we had it all.
Joan loved her earrings and necklace and we also got gifts for her two kids, Louis and Lighten. We got them Roal Dahl’s books The Crocodile with Enormous Teeth and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and we also ordered a cake (with some difficulty) from the local market. Joan said it was the best birthday she ever had and cried. Success! She even loved the food but her kids and house-girl Dafflin weren’t fond of the spices. The food here is really bland but Ginger made plain meat too so they had food to enjoy. Ginger did all the cooking and Meagan and I told her we are making that food again!
Monday I caught up with work as G&M went to a school observation with Mary. Mary invited us to see her village in the West and we are trying to plan things out amidst our other trips for SAS. A friend of our, Pharouk, saw me on facebook, said hello and that he would stop by the apartment shortly. I’m not used to people inviting themselves but that happens a lot here. He did stop by and talked for an hour then we all caught up with him at a restaurant named Alfredo’s with every kind of food but Italian. The electricity went out and bats were flying in the fruit trees above us. The fruit was so ripe that grape-sized fruit kept falling on us, making us spook. It was hilarious.
Tuesday we hit the data entry hard. Moses cam over to help and we had an assembly line going. One person numbered the pre-tests, another wrote down the numbers associated with the student’s names in our codebook, and two of us entered the 32 data points into the computer. After hours of work we got to student number 745 which was over 23,000 data points. Last summer they only had 600 students and now we are taking bets on how many we have. My guess is 2800, the girl guessed less but then they lost confidence and wanted a re-bet when we hit 1000. It’s like the games in kindergarten where you guess how many jelly beans are in the mason jar.
Wednesday we are getting new passport photos taken because we heard back from the UNCST and we have to do a partial re-submit of one form, a letter of recommendation, and new photos. Hopefully this will work and we will get IRB approval which allows us to publish. All fingers are crossed!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
June 1-9th 2011
It’s been a crazy week or so and I finally feel as though I’m getting my bearings.
June 1st I had my first observation of a SAS mentor in a school. Usually the mentors teach small classes but there is a new push to teach in larger schools, where the classes are 300+. Imagine trying to keep the attention of 300+ 6 year old students for 30-45 minutes. It’s not an easy task but Mary, one of SAS’ best mentors and the woman Ginger and Meagan call their African mother, makes it look easy.
We went to Buganda Rd Primary School and there are pictures up under Ginger’s Picasa account. It is a public government school even though they students wear uniforms and the parents must pay fees. When we arrived the kids flocked Mary’s car and then us as we got out. The kids would walk up to us and then just silently stare while others would play peek-a-boo, shyly running up only to squeal and run back if I looked their way. Many would say hello and ask how I was and yell Mzungu! The ones who had already said hello would come and touch my arm to see what white skin felt like. Mary said it was probably the first time they had spoken to a white person or even seen one. In the classroom the kids got extremely excited about having their pictures taken and they loved seeming themselves in the Polaroid we left with them. By the second class word must have gotten around because when I forgot about the picture, the students loudly said picture! picture!
The next day we went to the SAS office and then another school where the curriculum will move into. It’s really the only program of its kind, focusing on HIV education among primary school students with mentors who are in their classrooms once a week for the whole term. It’s a good thing that it’s so worthwhile because it makes the stacks and stacks of tests we have to grade and then enter into a computer worth it. If you see the pictures of papers on our kitchen table you can get a sense of how much work we’ve been doing. Its taken about 36 working hours to hand grade them and who knows how long to finish the database, but it will be great to know what the students know and don’t know. In one case a teacher was trying to help and graded them herself, but she got one wrong when she made her won key, which shows how important the information is for students and teachers alike.
Enough about our work…the bush crickets here are a delicacy. They are called grasshoppers here but are way bigger than the grasshoppers back home. We asked Grace to try them and ants, which were recommended by a guy we talked to at 1000 cups who was leading a student service/learning program with U of Michigan. Before Grace fried the grasshoppers she called me over to se how fresh they were. So fresh, that one was still moving. “Yup, they’re fresh” I said. I tried one of the ants then and they weren’t bad, especially since they weren’t alive! They tasted like a smoky earthy bacon-y spice. When we had the grasshoppers they tasted alright, but were really crunchy and I didn’t appreciate them as much as Ginger, who was dipping them in ketchup like French fries saying they tasted like soft shell crab.
After we had eaten we went to Rose’s house to say hello. Immediately we were given photo album after photo album of the wedding. It was funny to see ourselves in an Eritrean’s wedding album. Before we knew it a huge meal was brought out even though we said we had just eaten eventually we were offered coffee. Ginger and Meagan had raved about Rose’s coffee, but I didn’t understand what I was in for.
The coffee ceremony: Out came a box with an orange and white checkered straw woven mat folded on top. The mat was removed and put on the floor and a small almost cabinet looking thing was underneath it. It was placed on the mat and a tray with cups and saucers was placed atop it. The cups were the size of demi-task cups but without handles and more bowl shaped in that they flared out at the top. Then a small foot by foot square thing was brought out and the room started getting hot. I realized the box was an oven and there were hot coals being fanned through an opening on the side.
A small sauce pan was used to roast the coffee beans and after they were roasted the pan was brought in front of us to smell and appreciate. Then an electric coffee grinder was used and the beans went into a clay pot that was the shape and size of a rounded Bunsen burner with a rounded handle. The top was narrow and maybe an inch in diameter, but after the coffee warmed she would pour back and forth between it and a small pan like those used to froth milk at coffee shops. Ouw (like ouch)-a is the first round of the coffee after the roasting and milk and sugar were added first and then the coffee was poured in the small cups until it almost overflowed. There were what looked like small green reeds sticking out the top of the pot which kept the grinds in. We stirred the sugar in and the cup was so full it did spill over. It was unlike any coffee I have ever had. It was strong but had almost a cinnamon taste and a hot chocolate consistency. Then the second and finally the third and last round, ba-rah-ka (emphasis on ka), were served. For each round the same roasted coffee beans are used and new water is added and it is re-heated over the coals.
This whole process took over an hour and the investment in hospitality here is hard to describe. I thought people were hospitable where I come from, but Ugandans and Eritreans have us beat hands down. Since we have been trying to rack our brains for some equivalent American tradition to reciprocate with but it’s hard. We are making them some banana bread soon, but it’s not really the same social exchange.
The next day I stayed home as Ginger and Meagan went to watch Moses’ soccer team kick butt. I wasn’t feeling well from the previous night when the mixture of grasshoppers, ants, fish soup, and three rounds of Eritrean coffee eventually made me york. I probably get less cool points for not keeping the bugs down, but at least I tried. By the evening I was feeling better so the four of us went to watch the Ugandan Cranes play against Guinnea Bissau. As we arrived and bought our beers at the bar a group of guys blew their air horns to get our attention and then again when we walked away. It was actually hilarious and I’m slowly getting used to most people trying to talk to us because we are such the novelty. It’s annoying when everyone yells to get your attention in markets, but today we heard a new one. A guy yelled at us, “Hello African women! Hello African Americans!” All you can do is shake your head and smile.
I love trash talk here. While watching the game we overheard one guys say “You’re team is insecure.” What a sophisticated smack down! The Cranes won to boot. Earlier that day I had been washing my feet in the tub while in my pjs when the soap made my feet slippery and I slid in the tub when I tried to stand up. Relaying this story made the guys next to us who were covertly eavesdropping spit out their drinks laughing. We got to talking with them and eventually we discussed whether a guy should leave work when he knows his wife/girlfriend is in labor and culturally differences in telling people they are fat and ugly. One guy said in his tribe there is nothing you don’t joke about. When you meet a child you tell them “At least you’re not as ugly as your mother” and earlier Mary told Meagan and I to share a chair because we “Weren’t THAT fat.” She wasn’t joking though
Sunday we went to church with Mary (there should be pics and a video of dancing) and then went to her home where a huge meal was made for us. We convinced Mary we could share two plates between the three of us, but everyone thinks we eat too little because they have one big meal a day. We had to tell them we eat more meals and so less food per meal. We spent the whole day with Mary, her fiancé Henry, her children Julius, Judith, and Judith’s 3 month old baby Shem. He was a great baby and we just fussed on him all day. Judith told me that when women are 30 and unmarried here they are taken to church and prayed for. When they found out I was 28 Julius joked he was waiting to play with my babies like I was playing with Shem. I said I would invite him to play with my babies but that he would have to wait a long time, which everyone laughed at. American and Ugandan humor seems to mesh and unsurprisingly there are many US-Ugandan marriages.
Monday Meagan was sick with a sinus infection. It was sad for her but great for me because I finally ventured out on my own back to Buganda Rd Primary to meet Mary for an observation and to exchange supplies. When I got on the matatu there were two Arabic speaking men who had a friend pay for them and tell the conductor when they were getting off. It was nice not to be the most clueless person on the van. Mary did a great job and when the room she taught in earlier wasn’t available, she taught outside managing about 160 standing students and then managing a change of location when the room became available ten minutes into her lesson. You really have to think on your feet and be confident and encouraging with so many kids. I have a lot of respect for these mentors who are volunteers only compensated for their expenses.
Yesterday I met with a contact at Makerere University and it was a lovely campus and a great visit. Dr. Haroon Sseguya went to school with a professor of mine and we talked all about his work on rural agricultural development, politics, and friends and family. He even showed me lots of pictures on his computer from his fieldwork, graduation, and some of my professor and Meagan laughed that he really was Ugandan because it was the techno version of sharing photo albums which happens a lot here. He gave me some great insights and offered to help me with anything and again I was reminded of how amazing Ugandan hospitality is. I also felt good finding a new place all by myself and I haven’t had anyone grab me to get my attention yet. I don’t know if it’s because I’m taller than most people here (even the men) or if I’ve just been lucky so far. Either way, G&M have done a great job of preparing me for anything.
Today Meagan felt much better after a visit to the SAS clinic so we walked a lot, going to the open air mall called Garden City. I got my own maps and we pow-wowed our research plans over coffee. All the tests are almost graded and we are entering them into a database. We are planning our trips outside of Kampala so we can visit schools in other districts. I’m really excited to see the rural areas of Uganda and this coming week I will just cold call at lots of humanitarian organizations to make connections. It’s not easy to just show up, but that kind of friendly boldness is what I have been trained for so here I go….
June 1st I had my first observation of a SAS mentor in a school. Usually the mentors teach small classes but there is a new push to teach in larger schools, where the classes are 300+. Imagine trying to keep the attention of 300+ 6 year old students for 30-45 minutes. It’s not an easy task but Mary, one of SAS’ best mentors and the woman Ginger and Meagan call their African mother, makes it look easy.
We went to Buganda Rd Primary School and there are pictures up under Ginger’s Picasa account. It is a public government school even though they students wear uniforms and the parents must pay fees. When we arrived the kids flocked Mary’s car and then us as we got out. The kids would walk up to us and then just silently stare while others would play peek-a-boo, shyly running up only to squeal and run back if I looked their way. Many would say hello and ask how I was and yell Mzungu! The ones who had already said hello would come and touch my arm to see what white skin felt like. Mary said it was probably the first time they had spoken to a white person or even seen one. In the classroom the kids got extremely excited about having their pictures taken and they loved seeming themselves in the Polaroid we left with them. By the second class word must have gotten around because when I forgot about the picture, the students loudly said picture! picture!
The next day we went to the SAS office and then another school where the curriculum will move into. It’s really the only program of its kind, focusing on HIV education among primary school students with mentors who are in their classrooms once a week for the whole term. It’s a good thing that it’s so worthwhile because it makes the stacks and stacks of tests we have to grade and then enter into a computer worth it. If you see the pictures of papers on our kitchen table you can get a sense of how much work we’ve been doing. Its taken about 36 working hours to hand grade them and who knows how long to finish the database, but it will be great to know what the students know and don’t know. In one case a teacher was trying to help and graded them herself, but she got one wrong when she made her won key, which shows how important the information is for students and teachers alike.
Enough about our work…the bush crickets here are a delicacy. They are called grasshoppers here but are way bigger than the grasshoppers back home. We asked Grace to try them and ants, which were recommended by a guy we talked to at 1000 cups who was leading a student service/learning program with U of Michigan. Before Grace fried the grasshoppers she called me over to se how fresh they were. So fresh, that one was still moving. “Yup, they’re fresh” I said. I tried one of the ants then and they weren’t bad, especially since they weren’t alive! They tasted like a smoky earthy bacon-y spice. When we had the grasshoppers they tasted alright, but were really crunchy and I didn’t appreciate them as much as Ginger, who was dipping them in ketchup like French fries saying they tasted like soft shell crab.
After we had eaten we went to Rose’s house to say hello. Immediately we were given photo album after photo album of the wedding. It was funny to see ourselves in an Eritrean’s wedding album. Before we knew it a huge meal was brought out even though we said we had just eaten eventually we were offered coffee. Ginger and Meagan had raved about Rose’s coffee, but I didn’t understand what I was in for.
The coffee ceremony: Out came a box with an orange and white checkered straw woven mat folded on top. The mat was removed and put on the floor and a small almost cabinet looking thing was underneath it. It was placed on the mat and a tray with cups and saucers was placed atop it. The cups were the size of demi-task cups but without handles and more bowl shaped in that they flared out at the top. Then a small foot by foot square thing was brought out and the room started getting hot. I realized the box was an oven and there were hot coals being fanned through an opening on the side.
A small sauce pan was used to roast the coffee beans and after they were roasted the pan was brought in front of us to smell and appreciate. Then an electric coffee grinder was used and the beans went into a clay pot that was the shape and size of a rounded Bunsen burner with a rounded handle. The top was narrow and maybe an inch in diameter, but after the coffee warmed she would pour back and forth between it and a small pan like those used to froth milk at coffee shops. Ouw (like ouch)-a is the first round of the coffee after the roasting and milk and sugar were added first and then the coffee was poured in the small cups until it almost overflowed. There were what looked like small green reeds sticking out the top of the pot which kept the grinds in. We stirred the sugar in and the cup was so full it did spill over. It was unlike any coffee I have ever had. It was strong but had almost a cinnamon taste and a hot chocolate consistency. Then the second and finally the third and last round, ba-rah-ka (emphasis on ka), were served. For each round the same roasted coffee beans are used and new water is added and it is re-heated over the coals.
This whole process took over an hour and the investment in hospitality here is hard to describe. I thought people were hospitable where I come from, but Ugandans and Eritreans have us beat hands down. Since we have been trying to rack our brains for some equivalent American tradition to reciprocate with but it’s hard. We are making them some banana bread soon, but it’s not really the same social exchange.
The next day I stayed home as Ginger and Meagan went to watch Moses’ soccer team kick butt. I wasn’t feeling well from the previous night when the mixture of grasshoppers, ants, fish soup, and three rounds of Eritrean coffee eventually made me york. I probably get less cool points for not keeping the bugs down, but at least I tried. By the evening I was feeling better so the four of us went to watch the Ugandan Cranes play against Guinnea Bissau. As we arrived and bought our beers at the bar a group of guys blew their air horns to get our attention and then again when we walked away. It was actually hilarious and I’m slowly getting used to most people trying to talk to us because we are such the novelty. It’s annoying when everyone yells to get your attention in markets, but today we heard a new one. A guy yelled at us, “Hello African women! Hello African Americans!” All you can do is shake your head and smile.
I love trash talk here. While watching the game we overheard one guys say “You’re team is insecure.” What a sophisticated smack down! The Cranes won to boot. Earlier that day I had been washing my feet in the tub while in my pjs when the soap made my feet slippery and I slid in the tub when I tried to stand up. Relaying this story made the guys next to us who were covertly eavesdropping spit out their drinks laughing. We got to talking with them and eventually we discussed whether a guy should leave work when he knows his wife/girlfriend is in labor and culturally differences in telling people they are fat and ugly. One guy said in his tribe there is nothing you don’t joke about. When you meet a child you tell them “At least you’re not as ugly as your mother” and earlier Mary told Meagan and I to share a chair because we “Weren’t THAT fat.” She wasn’t joking though
Sunday we went to church with Mary (there should be pics and a video of dancing) and then went to her home where a huge meal was made for us. We convinced Mary we could share two plates between the three of us, but everyone thinks we eat too little because they have one big meal a day. We had to tell them we eat more meals and so less food per meal. We spent the whole day with Mary, her fiancé Henry, her children Julius, Judith, and Judith’s 3 month old baby Shem. He was a great baby and we just fussed on him all day. Judith told me that when women are 30 and unmarried here they are taken to church and prayed for. When they found out I was 28 Julius joked he was waiting to play with my babies like I was playing with Shem. I said I would invite him to play with my babies but that he would have to wait a long time, which everyone laughed at. American and Ugandan humor seems to mesh and unsurprisingly there are many US-Ugandan marriages.
Monday Meagan was sick with a sinus infection. It was sad for her but great for me because I finally ventured out on my own back to Buganda Rd Primary to meet Mary for an observation and to exchange supplies. When I got on the matatu there were two Arabic speaking men who had a friend pay for them and tell the conductor when they were getting off. It was nice not to be the most clueless person on the van. Mary did a great job and when the room she taught in earlier wasn’t available, she taught outside managing about 160 standing students and then managing a change of location when the room became available ten minutes into her lesson. You really have to think on your feet and be confident and encouraging with so many kids. I have a lot of respect for these mentors who are volunteers only compensated for their expenses.
Yesterday I met with a contact at Makerere University and it was a lovely campus and a great visit. Dr. Haroon Sseguya went to school with a professor of mine and we talked all about his work on rural agricultural development, politics, and friends and family. He even showed me lots of pictures on his computer from his fieldwork, graduation, and some of my professor and Meagan laughed that he really was Ugandan because it was the techno version of sharing photo albums which happens a lot here. He gave me some great insights and offered to help me with anything and again I was reminded of how amazing Ugandan hospitality is. I also felt good finding a new place all by myself and I haven’t had anyone grab me to get my attention yet. I don’t know if it’s because I’m taller than most people here (even the men) or if I’ve just been lucky so far. Either way, G&M have done a great job of preparing me for anything.
Today Meagan felt much better after a visit to the SAS clinic so we walked a lot, going to the open air mall called Garden City. I got my own maps and we pow-wowed our research plans over coffee. All the tests are almost graded and we are entering them into a database. We are planning our trips outside of Kampala so we can visit schools in other districts. I’m really excited to see the rural areas of Uganda and this coming week I will just cold call at lots of humanitarian organizations to make connections. It’s not easy to just show up, but that kind of friendly boldness is what I have been trained for so here I go….
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
End of Week 1 in Kampala
May 29-31, Sunday-Tuesday 2011
I finally made it into the city yesterday and today. I had ventured to the two local super markets before, but those where only a few minutes walk away.
We walked south on Kira Rd, then in the Mulago neighborhood there is a roundabout and we took different roads each day so I could see the most. The bigger roads are paved, with grassy medians and sidewalks or dirt areas to walk on both sides. People drive on the left here, so it makes sense that the trucks look for European than American. I haven’t seen one semi but there are lorries everywhere as well as motorcycles whizzing by and breaking traffic rules to get ahead and the abundant matatus look almost like the VW vans from the 70’s.
Amidst all this bustle people walk to where they are going, some at very slow speeds while others seem in a hurry, some in suits or sweaters and here I am sweating in a t-shirt. Closer to the city you find markets which run parallel to the road and are unpaved with shanty-looking stands made of metal or wood in which hardware, food, electronics, clothes, and cellphone/internet airtime are sold. I almost walked into a hanging headless carcass while stepping out of a boda’s (motorcycle you hire like a taxi) path. In the city people have shoes, maps, books, and food for sale laid out on the sidewalks while other people stand holding watches, belts, or even dark suits which are held and rested on the shoulders of the sellers. Generally they don’t speak up to get attention as the flow of pedestrians goes by. All this is movement happens without traffic lights. There are a few, but mostly right of way around round-abouts controls the flow. Of course, on my first boda ride the driver (after Ginger told him it was my first time and to go easy) went the wrong way around the roundabout. I was so busy holding on in terror while simultaneously grinning like a fool at the wonderful breeze that I didn’t notice.
I’m still trying to understand what it means to be a white American woman here. The girls warned me that men would flock to me because here I am the exotic, prestigious Other. Also people on the streets will call out to you saying “Mzungo!” (which basically means white person) or “Hallo. How are you?” While this seems friendly enough at first, it can be overwhelming when it happens almost constantly. Many times it is vendors or boda drivers who are calling out to you so it is more about trying to sell you something than being friendly. Also some men will call us beautiful or say they love us as we walk by. At home I reciprocate when people I pass say hello and that is actually one of the things I missed while living in the North. But here Meagan and Ginger assure me it will get old quickly and to just ignore it. I’m trying to find my own balance of being friendly yet ignoring the negative, demanding calls and it reminds me of the vendors in the middle of the mall who say “Can I ask you something?” as you are trying to walk by.
Lastly we had some friends over, Richard and Moses, on Monday night. We all watched as Moses opened his gifts from his girlfriend Sonja while on Skype with her. It was adorable and then we had a good meal together as we talked. Moses had written an essay/article about the racial implications of people calling us Mzungo and made a good point, it would be outrageous in the States if someone went around yelling “Hey black woman” all the time.
We also talked about the political situation here and the Walk to Work protests which have been suppressed by the government. Now the protests are restricted to people making noise by banging pans, blaring music, and hooting (honking) their cars and bodas for 5 minutes everyday at 5pm. I listened yesterday and didn’t hear anything, but we live in the suburbs. The people stopped protesting by walking to work because the government passed a law saying anyone arrested for protesting would be denied bail for 6 months.
Weeks ago there were protests which were stopped by the government with tear gas, rubber bullets, and real bullets that were fired into crowds. There are still armored trucks around in case protests occur again and Ginger and Meagan said the police presence has increased a lot. The protests were happening because prices have risen across the board significantly; in some cases almost double what they were last year. Part of this is inflation that is beyond the national government’s control but other things like national fuel taxes are skyrocketing. Richard and Moses had different opinions of who was responsible for fixing things but both agreed that most people do not have enough to live off of while the elite are getting richer through corrupt practices. It was a very interesting an necessary conversation to have and Richard and Moses were well informed and obviously were engaged in the politics in a way that many people in my generation are not.
This coming Wednesday we are going on our first school observation of the season and I will see the SAS clinic Thursday. It will feel good to jump into work. My grad student tendencies mean I feel guilty for going to long with working! We have put up pictures from our first week in Kampala so check out the “Our Pictures” link on the right.
Take care all and thanks for being part of this with me through reading along,
NS
I finally made it into the city yesterday and today. I had ventured to the two local super markets before, but those where only a few minutes walk away.
We walked south on Kira Rd, then in the Mulago neighborhood there is a roundabout and we took different roads each day so I could see the most. The bigger roads are paved, with grassy medians and sidewalks or dirt areas to walk on both sides. People drive on the left here, so it makes sense that the trucks look for European than American. I haven’t seen one semi but there are lorries everywhere as well as motorcycles whizzing by and breaking traffic rules to get ahead and the abundant matatus look almost like the VW vans from the 70’s.
Amidst all this bustle people walk to where they are going, some at very slow speeds while others seem in a hurry, some in suits or sweaters and here I am sweating in a t-shirt. Closer to the city you find markets which run parallel to the road and are unpaved with shanty-looking stands made of metal or wood in which hardware, food, electronics, clothes, and cellphone/internet airtime are sold. I almost walked into a hanging headless carcass while stepping out of a boda’s (motorcycle you hire like a taxi) path. In the city people have shoes, maps, books, and food for sale laid out on the sidewalks while other people stand holding watches, belts, or even dark suits which are held and rested on the shoulders of the sellers. Generally they don’t speak up to get attention as the flow of pedestrians goes by. All this is movement happens without traffic lights. There are a few, but mostly right of way around round-abouts controls the flow. Of course, on my first boda ride the driver (after Ginger told him it was my first time and to go easy) went the wrong way around the roundabout. I was so busy holding on in terror while simultaneously grinning like a fool at the wonderful breeze that I didn’t notice.
I’m still trying to understand what it means to be a white American woman here. The girls warned me that men would flock to me because here I am the exotic, prestigious Other. Also people on the streets will call out to you saying “Mzungo!” (which basically means white person) or “Hallo. How are you?” While this seems friendly enough at first, it can be overwhelming when it happens almost constantly. Many times it is vendors or boda drivers who are calling out to you so it is more about trying to sell you something than being friendly. Also some men will call us beautiful or say they love us as we walk by. At home I reciprocate when people I pass say hello and that is actually one of the things I missed while living in the North. But here Meagan and Ginger assure me it will get old quickly and to just ignore it. I’m trying to find my own balance of being friendly yet ignoring the negative, demanding calls and it reminds me of the vendors in the middle of the mall who say “Can I ask you something?” as you are trying to walk by.
Lastly we had some friends over, Richard and Moses, on Monday night. We all watched as Moses opened his gifts from his girlfriend Sonja while on Skype with her. It was adorable and then we had a good meal together as we talked. Moses had written an essay/article about the racial implications of people calling us Mzungo and made a good point, it would be outrageous in the States if someone went around yelling “Hey black woman” all the time.
We also talked about the political situation here and the Walk to Work protests which have been suppressed by the government. Now the protests are restricted to people making noise by banging pans, blaring music, and hooting (honking) their cars and bodas for 5 minutes everyday at 5pm. I listened yesterday and didn’t hear anything, but we live in the suburbs. The people stopped protesting by walking to work because the government passed a law saying anyone arrested for protesting would be denied bail for 6 months.
Weeks ago there were protests which were stopped by the government with tear gas, rubber bullets, and real bullets that were fired into crowds. There are still armored trucks around in case protests occur again and Ginger and Meagan said the police presence has increased a lot. The protests were happening because prices have risen across the board significantly; in some cases almost double what they were last year. Part of this is inflation that is beyond the national government’s control but other things like national fuel taxes are skyrocketing. Richard and Moses had different opinions of who was responsible for fixing things but both agreed that most people do not have enough to live off of while the elite are getting richer through corrupt practices. It was a very interesting an necessary conversation to have and Richard and Moses were well informed and obviously were engaged in the politics in a way that many people in my generation are not.
This coming Wednesday we are going on our first school observation of the season and I will see the SAS clinic Thursday. It will feel good to jump into work. My grad student tendencies mean I feel guilty for going to long with working! We have put up pictures from our first week in Kampala so check out the “Our Pictures” link on the right.
Take care all and thanks for being part of this with me through reading along,
NS
Saturday, May 28, 2011
End of Amsterdam and Beginning of Uganda
I’m sorry for the delay in posting! Between keeping the blog, diary, logbook for contacts and budget, and field notes there is a lot of writing. I should manage to write more regularly though as we have settled into a rhythm in our apartment and have secured internet access.
While I have a Flickr stream at the bottom of this blog, check Meagan’s blog for our pictures. I turned our Flickr has a monthly limit I would have blown past in our first three days so all our collective photos will be through her Picasa account.
May 22nd, 2011
When we planned on coming to Amsterdam we immediately planned to go to Haarlem. A friend had recommended it and I always like to get out of the cities for a day. It turned out to be my favorite part of our trip in Holland. As the girls got ready I looked up some things to see in Haarlem. Scott, and Australian friend we met in our hostel the night before wanted to tag along too. We had bonded over Aussie Rules Football and making fun of American tourists.
So we went to Central Station and hopped on a train. The trip should have only lasted 15 minutes, but we talked so much and were tired and failed to notice we missed the stop. What finally drew our attention to this was the trained stopped because it ran out of land. We had traveled to Zaandvort, a city on the coast (about 30 minutes ride) without noticing it.
So we stayed on the train and actually got off in Haarlem and walked to the church located on the town square. We had a nice lunch and then went to enter the church, only to discover it was closed. Apparently it was open all week except for Sundays after their service. It was also really cold and windy so Meagan bought very touristy socks with windmills to wear with her sandals. It was very fetching! At this point I felt like a heel because not only did I plan this for the girls, Scott had come along based on how excited I was about this church.
Having been thwarted, we made our way to Adriaan Windmill. It was truly impressive. The guide was a cross between a grandpa and Albert Einstein. He was a volunteer who kept the mill going and he took us up into the windmill. The engineering behind the mill was so impressive and large wooden pins were used as removable nails which allowed the windmill to be installed, used to drain the land, then deconstructed and put elsewhere to drain more land. Its odd to think of something that big as recyclable. It truly made an impact in wars and industry, development and the draining of so much of Holland. We all really enjoyed it and I think we all thought the windmill was our favorite part of Holland.
May 23rd, 2011
Today we went to the Van Gogh Museum and I got really animated relaying what I remembered from my wonderful art history courses. So much of the history of art is really the modern equivalent of the news because many people couldn’t read or write and even the Bible was read in languages not spoken by common people. Art was education, religion, and the news all in one and as such a powerful medium, it was controlled by those who were politically and economically powerful and some of the most revolutionary paradigm shifts in philosophy and politics have been preceded or mirror in art.
I knew that Van Gogh and the other Impressionists rocked the system but I didn’t realize that Van Gogh had pursued a career in the clergy but then pursued art only after his job at a church was un-renewed. His prolific and revered work all took place in ten short years from the time he began and taught himself to his death. The museum was organized by showing you his early work and the work of his contemporary mentors then showing you the linear progression of his work, followed by the work of those inspired by his work and the Impressionist movement.
Its so interesting to me because the idea that humans can perceive the Truth and reality of the world through careful, exact study (the school of thought in place before the Impressionists) compared to the idea that the world is perceived differently by everyone through the senses, yet each disparate version is valid (the idea presented by the Impressionists) is also present in anthropology. We discuss the first of positivist empiricism and the second as post-modern interpretivism or phenomenology. It made me feel connected to the moment in history because I have the same discussions in my classes all the time. It was also sad because when he was painting some of my favorite of his pieces his letters to his brother show that he felt like a stagnant failure. He died in poverty and you got a real sense of his melancholy. I didn’t expect it but we all got moved to tears.
After a great lunch at a hideously decorated place (look for the pictures of the mint tea and the cow print booth) we went to the Anne Frank Museum. You actually walked through the hiding place which was left unfurnished to remain as it was after the Nazi’s arrested and cleared out the home. They had models and pictures of what it looked like and had the actual diaries Anne wrote in.
Obviously there was a somber, solemn fell to the place, but I think the hardest part was when a video of her father, Otto Frank, came on. He was the sole survivor of his family, but Anna and her sister Margot thought he was dead and died within a month and week respectively of the liberation. Her father said it took him a long time to read the diary and what he was most surprised about was the depth and maturity of her thoughts. He didn’t know that part of his daughter. He said it made him realize that parents never really know their children and that part made me cry.
May 24, 2011
The girls slept in as I walked to an electronic store to get a cord to allow me to download pictures off my camera. I got there and he said it was one of two cords and we couldn’t tell which. He originally said there was a no return policy but when I tried to buy both cords he only sold me one and told me to return it if it was the wrong one. It was the wrong one and he did let me return it. A lot of the people in Amsterdam seem nice like that and not impatient with tourists, which is good because we are everywhere!
We met up with Scott, a guy from Melbourne Australia we met in our hostel, for lunch in the park. We munched on salami, cheese, bread, cherries, snap peas, and apricots by the pond in Vondel Park. It was really lovely and we talked and cloud watched for 2 and a half hours.
We then went out for dinner at the Supper Club. It was our one planned splurge and it was well worth it. The club had bed you laid on with huge pillows for support and tables on the beds to hold glasses. You had to take your shoes off before getting on the mattress and it had a techno meets Moroccan feel. Because the whole wall was set like this we talked to the people on either side of us.
The man to my right was from Munich and named Tobias which sounded like Te-beers when he said it. He had two children and we talked about how I get to see the world through the new eyes of my students just like he sees the world through his children’s eyes anew. We talked about idealism and optimism and my upcoming travels to Uganda. We talked for probably half an hour and it was really lovely. Each of the three courses were fabulous and after dinner people danced. It was nice to see people other than teens and twenty-somethings have fun and dancing. In general people seem more openly affectionate here than in the States, holding hands and cuddling in the park, and I like it.
May 25th, 2011
This was our last day in Amsterdam and we picked up Sonja from the Central Station. Ginger and Meagan met Sonja last summer who is a German with education in social work who came to Kampala for an internship and stayed when she fell in love with Moses, a Ugandan. Both of them formed a non-governmental organization which makes a soccer team for young men living in the slums so they have things to do and friendship. Last year the team won the league championship and I remember seeing a video of Sonja dance at the celebration.
We picked her up and all hugged, even though she just met me. She brought us gifts from Cologne and we ate lunch by our hostel. She said how difficult it was to stay in contact with Moses, her boyfriend, because his computer broke and they can’t use skype. Ginger thought of inviting Moses over regularly so he could use our computers to call her and she cried with gratitude.
We showed her the Albert Cuyp Market, then the flower market and some of the antique district. We then just sat for a beer in Spui Square and talked until she had to go. She was such a sweet person and I got a real sense of the times they three of them shared last summer. She even shared some Lugandan phrases she thought I might use and they reminisced about good times. When we dropped her off back at the train station we promised to stay in better touch.
With all the talk about Kampala from the previous summer and then packing up our bags for the next days travel it finally started to feel real that I was going with them. All my time in Amsterdam felt like a vacation and after it Ginger and Meagan would go toe Uganda and I would go back home. I had been going back and forth between feeling under and overwhelmed and as I packed and ate the German chocolates Sonja gave me it started to sink in. As we packed we also met a sweet guy from Poland named Chris who was so innocent, friendly, and enthusiastic in his English (which he had recently taken up) that we all were smiling. Earlier in the day I had run into two guys from Lexington who go to UK as well and it seemed like the world was very small and very friendly. Good last night in Amsterdam.
May 26th, 2011
Rule one to staying in a hostel: BUY EARPLUGS. A new guy in our room came in around 1am, and I don’t know how he didn’t wake himself up. I actually like rhythmic snoring, but his was like torture. I thought about waking him up and handing him a tissue so he would blow his nose, then realized I was being a cranky sleep-deprived American and wrapped the blanket around my head.
Rule one to flying KLM: one bag only and it better not be overweight. We got charged 100 euros for the second bag and if we had only one bag that was overweight it would have been 200 euros. Had we known we would have bought clothes in Uganda. I was on such a “I’m going to Africa” high I wasn’t too angry but Meagan and Ginger were ticked because they had an especially mean attendant. I homemade bloody Mary helped things significantly.
We then got on only to find out our flight was flying past Entebbe first to go to Kigali, Rwanda first, stop for people to get off and on, have the cleaning crew on, then flight back to Entebbe. We had just been joking about people unexpectedly ending up in a different country and then it happened to us. Easy flight; I hope to watch the ending of Tron on the way back
May 27th, 2011
Today was my first full day in Kampala. We arrived late last night, but there was a mix up about which day we were arriving so our ride was not at the airport. We got a hold of Reverend Obed via cell phone and he said he would come to pick us up even though he expected us the next day. When we called him it was 10:30 pm and he was an hour away, so it was truly generous of him and his wife to commit to two hours of driving that late and saving us the taxi fare.
My first sights of Uganda were from the back of his car which was so full of us and our bags it bottomed out over bumps. I couldn’t see much, but with the window down I could smell this constant smell of burned matches or a campfire. Ginger said it was burning trash but it was a pleasant smell. As we left Entebbe and drove through the countryside to Kampala I could also smell that earthy, mushroom-like smell and honeysuckle and cow manure. As we got closer to the city the trash burning left so much smoke in the air that I first thought it was a part romantic, part eerie fog. We eventually saw some multiple story buildings and Ginger noted the one of a few stoplights in the city, which is amazing for such an urban area. As we drove I could see people out walking occasionally even though it was after midnight. We would pass bars with stringed lights and music pumped outside. I couldn’t see much though.
We eventually got to Kampala but had to stay at a hotel, the Kigali Country Club, because our compound was locked for the night. The hotel was beautiful, but absurdly expensive and we had already been charged 100 euros for having more than one bag from KLM. We paid it though because we were so tired and it was the closest hotel, but we laughed as we took every little item of shampoo and creamer, even the pens, because we were bitter about the price.
In the morning we then went to our compound which is a fenced in lot with maybe 6-8 apartments with a guard at the gate. I think most of the residents are expats from England, France, or Eritrea and there is a dog named Didi who is literally the most hilariously messed up dog I’ve ever met. I pet him anywhere and he falls over with both back legs trying to scratch his front legs. Utterly spastic! I will take a video so you can understand!
As we waited for Grace, (or as Ginger and Meagan call her, their African mom) to arrive and let us in I talked to Gerald, the day guard, who was extremely friendly. We talked about his family and mine, education, and about Westerners coming to develop Uganda. Afterwards I wasn’t sure how much of what he said was from being polite because he said Ugandans needed Europeans to bring money and intervene and he perceived me as part of that world, but it made me happy that I could have a conversation with a local Ugandan despite the different accents. As I waited I there were all these different birds calling and sounds of someone hammering something, a baby crying, birds chirping, and sounds of cars and motorcycles in the background that I made a recording of. I will try to get that online too.
Grace and another women (whose name escapes me,) came and gave us all big hugs, apologizing for the mix up which was not their fault. Grace will stop by twice a week to do some cooking and laundry and other things which would take up a lot of time which could be better spent researching. It is also good to contribute to the local economy through creating a job so it is a win-win even though part of me feels uncomfortable with coming to Africa and being privileged enough to have a maid. So far everyone has been truly lovely and I’m excited to meet all these people I have read about in the previous summer’s blogs.
Later in the afternoon Megan and I ventured out of our compound to walk to the Super Supermarket, maybe 5 minutes away. The road we live on (Old Kira Rd) is made of a terracotta colored soil (mirren) with rocks and trash. The soil color mixed with the terracotta roofs of some buildings compared to the lush green palm trees and vegetation is rather beautiful. Some places have colors in such high saturation that it makes things seem more alive. Kentucky is like that and I’m glad Kampala is too. I don’t do well in gray places.
The main road which our road feeds into is paved. There are ditches made of large orange stones and brown mortar on both sides with trash in them and since there are no guard rails you have to watch your step. Kampala is very hilly and the city is made of seven hills. The richer people live on top of the hills in mansions that are visible almost everywhere and the poorer people live in the valleys. It is a literal hierarchy.
When we got back we ate a delicious dinner prepared by Grace and ran out of water when we tried to wash the dishes. Fortunately we had all showered. Then we sat down to write up our field notes for the day and promptly at 8pm the electricity went out. We all laughed that I had officially been introduced to the Kampalan experience. I got tucked in my mosquito netted bed and when the lights came back on I scrambled to get free of the net to jump out and turn the lights back off. The nets are a little claustrophobic at first, but then comforting when you think about being safe from the bugs and geckos.
May 28, 2011
This morning was exciting because we got invited to a wedding reception. We noticed a decorated car, then bridesmaids and flower girls outside in the shared parking lot. We guessed it was a wedding so we went outside to see and found Rose, a neighbor and friend in the compound from Eritrea. It turns out her sister was getting married and she gave us all wedding invitations to come to the reception later on. To get to go to such important rituals and ceremonies is a big deal in anthropology so we were really excited.
Some of the bridal party were wearing traditional Eritrean clothes. The women had white long dresses with long sleeves and ornate colored stitching on the front of the dresses and along the hems. They also wore a linen/cotton white head scarf on top of their heads with their entire face and even their hair exposed. Women have their hair corn-rolled but the braid is done around a round object so it is raised. The effect is very stately and regal and Rose herself had ornate jewelry and was stunning in her traditional dress without the head scarf and the bridesmaids were in light melon colored spaghetti strap sheath satin dresses and high heals. It was an interesting mix of traditional and western clothes.
We then went out to make a big grocery run. We went to the Nakumatt market and it was huge and very much like American supermarkets. On the way back I fell down while walking, breaking an egg, a container of milk, and the soy sauce we had just bought. It wasn’t a big deal except I had already fallen in Amsterdam by tripping on a tram line at night. I ate the pavement pretty hard and scabbed up my right palm, elbow and both knees. When I fell again it was in all the same places. Really my confidence was hurt more than anything else and I’m tired of dealing with bandages in so many places and the girls were great about not minding the ruined groceries.
Grace and Annette came again today to do our laundry and they cooked an amazing lunch of matoke and g-nut sauce, something that tasted like collared greens, a chicken dish, and a salad with mangos. I think I could eat mangos every day. We then went shopping for a wedding gift and settled with a pitcher and glass set and some American peach preserves. Grace and Annette said they were good gifts and that we were well dressed for the event and we headed off using a matato (mah-ta-too).
It is basically a van with four rows of three seats. You can get to the back ones easily though because the side seats back folds down, then the whole seat folds upwards and sideways so you can get past it to other rows. Technically the van could hold 15 people including the front row and the “conductor” sits right by the door, opening it and jumping out, shouting in quick succession all the places the van is going, then hoping in as the van drives away. As the matato drives it honks at people it approaches to see if they want a ride. It’s a hectic production and people have to know where they are and when they want off in order to say maaah-sow, which means for the van to stop. I’m trying to get my ear to recognize the places and get a handle on transportation, but its only my second full day here.
So we got to the reception at 7:30 and it was supposed to start at 6. This was a classic case of Ugandan time because hardly anyone was there and they were still putting up decorations. Around 9 the bride and groom came in with a procession holding sparklers and doing the high pitched a-la-la-la-la cries often associated with Middle Eastern cultures. Meagan got a video of it.
Then we waited for our turn to eat as I talked to a young Eritrean guy about the food and what was going on. I knew Eritrean food was similar to Ethiopian food, which I have had but I still didn’t know what to expect. After getting a HUGE plate of food I brought it back only for the young guy I was talking to to ask why I didn’t get the white stuff. I thought he meant food that was white, but he meant that there was lasagna made especially for White people. He had earlier said he liked White people. I had no idea what to say to that and awkwardly said, “Thank you, I hope White people are nice to you.” I’m cringing as I write this! I now know how African Americans feel when asked for the Black perspective. But hey, it was better than hearing he disliked White people! I enjoyed talking to him though because he explained that while he was not related to the bride, because she was no longer in Eritrea and her family could not make it, all the local Eritreans came to act as a family. He said, they no longer have parents, family to be here for them, so now I am their cousin so they don’t get lonely. Eritreans call each other brothers and sisters which is a powerful cultural system for those away from their families.
We stayed for the cutting (and eating) of the cake and despite Rose’s explanation that there would be no dancing because the family was conservative and Pentecostal, there was plenty of dancing where the women stomped forward and back in a line and the men jumped up and down. It was a good time.
While I have a Flickr stream at the bottom of this blog, check Meagan’s blog for our pictures. I turned our Flickr has a monthly limit I would have blown past in our first three days so all our collective photos will be through her Picasa account.
May 22nd, 2011
When we planned on coming to Amsterdam we immediately planned to go to Haarlem. A friend had recommended it and I always like to get out of the cities for a day. It turned out to be my favorite part of our trip in Holland. As the girls got ready I looked up some things to see in Haarlem. Scott, and Australian friend we met in our hostel the night before wanted to tag along too. We had bonded over Aussie Rules Football and making fun of American tourists.
So we went to Central Station and hopped on a train. The trip should have only lasted 15 minutes, but we talked so much and were tired and failed to notice we missed the stop. What finally drew our attention to this was the trained stopped because it ran out of land. We had traveled to Zaandvort, a city on the coast (about 30 minutes ride) without noticing it.
So we stayed on the train and actually got off in Haarlem and walked to the church located on the town square. We had a nice lunch and then went to enter the church, only to discover it was closed. Apparently it was open all week except for Sundays after their service. It was also really cold and windy so Meagan bought very touristy socks with windmills to wear with her sandals. It was very fetching! At this point I felt like a heel because not only did I plan this for the girls, Scott had come along based on how excited I was about this church.
Having been thwarted, we made our way to Adriaan Windmill. It was truly impressive. The guide was a cross between a grandpa and Albert Einstein. He was a volunteer who kept the mill going and he took us up into the windmill. The engineering behind the mill was so impressive and large wooden pins were used as removable nails which allowed the windmill to be installed, used to drain the land, then deconstructed and put elsewhere to drain more land. Its odd to think of something that big as recyclable. It truly made an impact in wars and industry, development and the draining of so much of Holland. We all really enjoyed it and I think we all thought the windmill was our favorite part of Holland.
May 23rd, 2011
Today we went to the Van Gogh Museum and I got really animated relaying what I remembered from my wonderful art history courses. So much of the history of art is really the modern equivalent of the news because many people couldn’t read or write and even the Bible was read in languages not spoken by common people. Art was education, religion, and the news all in one and as such a powerful medium, it was controlled by those who were politically and economically powerful and some of the most revolutionary paradigm shifts in philosophy and politics have been preceded or mirror in art.
I knew that Van Gogh and the other Impressionists rocked the system but I didn’t realize that Van Gogh had pursued a career in the clergy but then pursued art only after his job at a church was un-renewed. His prolific and revered work all took place in ten short years from the time he began and taught himself to his death. The museum was organized by showing you his early work and the work of his contemporary mentors then showing you the linear progression of his work, followed by the work of those inspired by his work and the Impressionist movement.
Its so interesting to me because the idea that humans can perceive the Truth and reality of the world through careful, exact study (the school of thought in place before the Impressionists) compared to the idea that the world is perceived differently by everyone through the senses, yet each disparate version is valid (the idea presented by the Impressionists) is also present in anthropology. We discuss the first of positivist empiricism and the second as post-modern interpretivism or phenomenology. It made me feel connected to the moment in history because I have the same discussions in my classes all the time. It was also sad because when he was painting some of my favorite of his pieces his letters to his brother show that he felt like a stagnant failure. He died in poverty and you got a real sense of his melancholy. I didn’t expect it but we all got moved to tears.
After a great lunch at a hideously decorated place (look for the pictures of the mint tea and the cow print booth) we went to the Anne Frank Museum. You actually walked through the hiding place which was left unfurnished to remain as it was after the Nazi’s arrested and cleared out the home. They had models and pictures of what it looked like and had the actual diaries Anne wrote in.
Obviously there was a somber, solemn fell to the place, but I think the hardest part was when a video of her father, Otto Frank, came on. He was the sole survivor of his family, but Anna and her sister Margot thought he was dead and died within a month and week respectively of the liberation. Her father said it took him a long time to read the diary and what he was most surprised about was the depth and maturity of her thoughts. He didn’t know that part of his daughter. He said it made him realize that parents never really know their children and that part made me cry.
May 24, 2011
The girls slept in as I walked to an electronic store to get a cord to allow me to download pictures off my camera. I got there and he said it was one of two cords and we couldn’t tell which. He originally said there was a no return policy but when I tried to buy both cords he only sold me one and told me to return it if it was the wrong one. It was the wrong one and he did let me return it. A lot of the people in Amsterdam seem nice like that and not impatient with tourists, which is good because we are everywhere!
We met up with Scott, a guy from Melbourne Australia we met in our hostel, for lunch in the park. We munched on salami, cheese, bread, cherries, snap peas, and apricots by the pond in Vondel Park. It was really lovely and we talked and cloud watched for 2 and a half hours.
We then went out for dinner at the Supper Club. It was our one planned splurge and it was well worth it. The club had bed you laid on with huge pillows for support and tables on the beds to hold glasses. You had to take your shoes off before getting on the mattress and it had a techno meets Moroccan feel. Because the whole wall was set like this we talked to the people on either side of us.
The man to my right was from Munich and named Tobias which sounded like Te-beers when he said it. He had two children and we talked about how I get to see the world through the new eyes of my students just like he sees the world through his children’s eyes anew. We talked about idealism and optimism and my upcoming travels to Uganda. We talked for probably half an hour and it was really lovely. Each of the three courses were fabulous and after dinner people danced. It was nice to see people other than teens and twenty-somethings have fun and dancing. In general people seem more openly affectionate here than in the States, holding hands and cuddling in the park, and I like it.
May 25th, 2011
This was our last day in Amsterdam and we picked up Sonja from the Central Station. Ginger and Meagan met Sonja last summer who is a German with education in social work who came to Kampala for an internship and stayed when she fell in love with Moses, a Ugandan. Both of them formed a non-governmental organization which makes a soccer team for young men living in the slums so they have things to do and friendship. Last year the team won the league championship and I remember seeing a video of Sonja dance at the celebration.
We picked her up and all hugged, even though she just met me. She brought us gifts from Cologne and we ate lunch by our hostel. She said how difficult it was to stay in contact with Moses, her boyfriend, because his computer broke and they can’t use skype. Ginger thought of inviting Moses over regularly so he could use our computers to call her and she cried with gratitude.
We showed her the Albert Cuyp Market, then the flower market and some of the antique district. We then just sat for a beer in Spui Square and talked until she had to go. She was such a sweet person and I got a real sense of the times they three of them shared last summer. She even shared some Lugandan phrases she thought I might use and they reminisced about good times. When we dropped her off back at the train station we promised to stay in better touch.
With all the talk about Kampala from the previous summer and then packing up our bags for the next days travel it finally started to feel real that I was going with them. All my time in Amsterdam felt like a vacation and after it Ginger and Meagan would go toe Uganda and I would go back home. I had been going back and forth between feeling under and overwhelmed and as I packed and ate the German chocolates Sonja gave me it started to sink in. As we packed we also met a sweet guy from Poland named Chris who was so innocent, friendly, and enthusiastic in his English (which he had recently taken up) that we all were smiling. Earlier in the day I had run into two guys from Lexington who go to UK as well and it seemed like the world was very small and very friendly. Good last night in Amsterdam.
May 26th, 2011
Rule one to staying in a hostel: BUY EARPLUGS. A new guy in our room came in around 1am, and I don’t know how he didn’t wake himself up. I actually like rhythmic snoring, but his was like torture. I thought about waking him up and handing him a tissue so he would blow his nose, then realized I was being a cranky sleep-deprived American and wrapped the blanket around my head.
Rule one to flying KLM: one bag only and it better not be overweight. We got charged 100 euros for the second bag and if we had only one bag that was overweight it would have been 200 euros. Had we known we would have bought clothes in Uganda. I was on such a “I’m going to Africa” high I wasn’t too angry but Meagan and Ginger were ticked because they had an especially mean attendant. I homemade bloody Mary helped things significantly.
We then got on only to find out our flight was flying past Entebbe first to go to Kigali, Rwanda first, stop for people to get off and on, have the cleaning crew on, then flight back to Entebbe. We had just been joking about people unexpectedly ending up in a different country and then it happened to us. Easy flight; I hope to watch the ending of Tron on the way back
May 27th, 2011
Today was my first full day in Kampala. We arrived late last night, but there was a mix up about which day we were arriving so our ride was not at the airport. We got a hold of Reverend Obed via cell phone and he said he would come to pick us up even though he expected us the next day. When we called him it was 10:30 pm and he was an hour away, so it was truly generous of him and his wife to commit to two hours of driving that late and saving us the taxi fare.
My first sights of Uganda were from the back of his car which was so full of us and our bags it bottomed out over bumps. I couldn’t see much, but with the window down I could smell this constant smell of burned matches or a campfire. Ginger said it was burning trash but it was a pleasant smell. As we left Entebbe and drove through the countryside to Kampala I could also smell that earthy, mushroom-like smell and honeysuckle and cow manure. As we got closer to the city the trash burning left so much smoke in the air that I first thought it was a part romantic, part eerie fog. We eventually saw some multiple story buildings and Ginger noted the one of a few stoplights in the city, which is amazing for such an urban area. As we drove I could see people out walking occasionally even though it was after midnight. We would pass bars with stringed lights and music pumped outside. I couldn’t see much though.
We eventually got to Kampala but had to stay at a hotel, the Kigali Country Club, because our compound was locked for the night. The hotel was beautiful, but absurdly expensive and we had already been charged 100 euros for having more than one bag from KLM. We paid it though because we were so tired and it was the closest hotel, but we laughed as we took every little item of shampoo and creamer, even the pens, because we were bitter about the price.
In the morning we then went to our compound which is a fenced in lot with maybe 6-8 apartments with a guard at the gate. I think most of the residents are expats from England, France, or Eritrea and there is a dog named Didi who is literally the most hilariously messed up dog I’ve ever met. I pet him anywhere and he falls over with both back legs trying to scratch his front legs. Utterly spastic! I will take a video so you can understand!
As we waited for Grace, (or as Ginger and Meagan call her, their African mom) to arrive and let us in I talked to Gerald, the day guard, who was extremely friendly. We talked about his family and mine, education, and about Westerners coming to develop Uganda. Afterwards I wasn’t sure how much of what he said was from being polite because he said Ugandans needed Europeans to bring money and intervene and he perceived me as part of that world, but it made me happy that I could have a conversation with a local Ugandan despite the different accents. As I waited I there were all these different birds calling and sounds of someone hammering something, a baby crying, birds chirping, and sounds of cars and motorcycles in the background that I made a recording of. I will try to get that online too.
Grace and another women (whose name escapes me,) came and gave us all big hugs, apologizing for the mix up which was not their fault. Grace will stop by twice a week to do some cooking and laundry and other things which would take up a lot of time which could be better spent researching. It is also good to contribute to the local economy through creating a job so it is a win-win even though part of me feels uncomfortable with coming to Africa and being privileged enough to have a maid. So far everyone has been truly lovely and I’m excited to meet all these people I have read about in the previous summer’s blogs.
Later in the afternoon Megan and I ventured out of our compound to walk to the Super Supermarket, maybe 5 minutes away. The road we live on (Old Kira Rd) is made of a terracotta colored soil (mirren) with rocks and trash. The soil color mixed with the terracotta roofs of some buildings compared to the lush green palm trees and vegetation is rather beautiful. Some places have colors in such high saturation that it makes things seem more alive. Kentucky is like that and I’m glad Kampala is too. I don’t do well in gray places.
The main road which our road feeds into is paved. There are ditches made of large orange stones and brown mortar on both sides with trash in them and since there are no guard rails you have to watch your step. Kampala is very hilly and the city is made of seven hills. The richer people live on top of the hills in mansions that are visible almost everywhere and the poorer people live in the valleys. It is a literal hierarchy.
When we got back we ate a delicious dinner prepared by Grace and ran out of water when we tried to wash the dishes. Fortunately we had all showered. Then we sat down to write up our field notes for the day and promptly at 8pm the electricity went out. We all laughed that I had officially been introduced to the Kampalan experience. I got tucked in my mosquito netted bed and when the lights came back on I scrambled to get free of the net to jump out and turn the lights back off. The nets are a little claustrophobic at first, but then comforting when you think about being safe from the bugs and geckos.
May 28, 2011
This morning was exciting because we got invited to a wedding reception. We noticed a decorated car, then bridesmaids and flower girls outside in the shared parking lot. We guessed it was a wedding so we went outside to see and found Rose, a neighbor and friend in the compound from Eritrea. It turns out her sister was getting married and she gave us all wedding invitations to come to the reception later on. To get to go to such important rituals and ceremonies is a big deal in anthropology so we were really excited.
Some of the bridal party were wearing traditional Eritrean clothes. The women had white long dresses with long sleeves and ornate colored stitching on the front of the dresses and along the hems. They also wore a linen/cotton white head scarf on top of their heads with their entire face and even their hair exposed. Women have their hair corn-rolled but the braid is done around a round object so it is raised. The effect is very stately and regal and Rose herself had ornate jewelry and was stunning in her traditional dress without the head scarf and the bridesmaids were in light melon colored spaghetti strap sheath satin dresses and high heals. It was an interesting mix of traditional and western clothes.
We then went out to make a big grocery run. We went to the Nakumatt market and it was huge and very much like American supermarkets. On the way back I fell down while walking, breaking an egg, a container of milk, and the soy sauce we had just bought. It wasn’t a big deal except I had already fallen in Amsterdam by tripping on a tram line at night. I ate the pavement pretty hard and scabbed up my right palm, elbow and both knees. When I fell again it was in all the same places. Really my confidence was hurt more than anything else and I’m tired of dealing with bandages in so many places and the girls were great about not minding the ruined groceries.
Grace and Annette came again today to do our laundry and they cooked an amazing lunch of matoke and g-nut sauce, something that tasted like collared greens, a chicken dish, and a salad with mangos. I think I could eat mangos every day. We then went shopping for a wedding gift and settled with a pitcher and glass set and some American peach preserves. Grace and Annette said they were good gifts and that we were well dressed for the event and we headed off using a matato (mah-ta-too).
It is basically a van with four rows of three seats. You can get to the back ones easily though because the side seats back folds down, then the whole seat folds upwards and sideways so you can get past it to other rows. Technically the van could hold 15 people including the front row and the “conductor” sits right by the door, opening it and jumping out, shouting in quick succession all the places the van is going, then hoping in as the van drives away. As the matato drives it honks at people it approaches to see if they want a ride. It’s a hectic production and people have to know where they are and when they want off in order to say maaah-sow, which means for the van to stop. I’m trying to get my ear to recognize the places and get a handle on transportation, but its only my second full day here.
So we got to the reception at 7:30 and it was supposed to start at 6. This was a classic case of Ugandan time because hardly anyone was there and they were still putting up decorations. Around 9 the bride and groom came in with a procession holding sparklers and doing the high pitched a-la-la-la-la cries often associated with Middle Eastern cultures. Meagan got a video of it.
Then we waited for our turn to eat as I talked to a young Eritrean guy about the food and what was going on. I knew Eritrean food was similar to Ethiopian food, which I have had but I still didn’t know what to expect. After getting a HUGE plate of food I brought it back only for the young guy I was talking to to ask why I didn’t get the white stuff. I thought he meant food that was white, but he meant that there was lasagna made especially for White people. He had earlier said he liked White people. I had no idea what to say to that and awkwardly said, “Thank you, I hope White people are nice to you.” I’m cringing as I write this! I now know how African Americans feel when asked for the Black perspective. But hey, it was better than hearing he disliked White people! I enjoyed talking to him though because he explained that while he was not related to the bride, because she was no longer in Eritrea and her family could not make it, all the local Eritreans came to act as a family. He said, they no longer have parents, family to be here for them, so now I am their cousin so they don’t get lonely. Eritreans call each other brothers and sisters which is a powerful cultural system for those away from their families.
We stayed for the cutting (and eating) of the cake and despite Rose’s explanation that there would be no dancing because the family was conservative and Pentecostal, there was plenty of dancing where the women stomped forward and back in a line and the men jumped up and down. It was a good time.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Day 2 in Amsterdam
Its 6:30 pm and I'm sitting in the back courtyard of the Hotel Annemarie.
We have come back to the hotel to rest after walking the city all day but I'm fairly adjusted to the time here and couldn't sleep, so I'm out here. The building has the courtyard in shade, I can hear birds talking back and forth, and a basket ball is being dribbled nearby. I can hear talking too. A restaurant must be nearby and I hear water running in one of the rooms. I also hear the hotel's tabby cat meow as Ginger joins me. Meagan is catching up on sleep upstairs.
Its lovely and surprisingly quiet in the city. I don't hear cars. There aren't many really, far more people on bicycles in suits, heals, and clothes that are effortlessly stylish in a completely non-American way.
On day 1 we walked all over the city. Not intentionally, we just keep getting bad direction after bad direction on where to find a bank we could exchange money at. To be fair, we missed the first one because we were so busy smelling flowers at a sidewalk shop we walked right by one. But we were exhausted from our travels which for me included an 8 hr layover followed by a frantic hour when Ginger and I weren't sure Meagan would make the flight from ATL to AMS. She just barely did (phew), but her bags didn't (bugger).
Then on the plane a man fell unconscious to the ground of the aisle while walking past our seats. He hit hard, we all scrambled, someone yelled "Is there a doctor here?" while others switched on their overhead lights and got the flight attendants' attention. There was a doctor and a former EMT within two aisles of the man and he seemed alright after his wife brought him blood pressure medicine and he used an oxygen tank from the plane.
So our first days was rather dramatic and eventually we got money. We stopped at a cute restaurant named Small Talk and got checked in to Annemarie. We then walked through the Antique District and saw a protest by Spanish people with signs saying (in English) something about not being slaves and education. Its already a blur but hopefully my pictures will remember for me.
The cat is now asleep lying on its side curled awkwardly over a thick extension cord. Animals are universally cute. Ginger rubs the cats belly as it rolls over and says "Everyone is content in the summertime".
You can probably get a sense of how laid-back I feel here. There are people everywhere and at first it the threat of stepping in the bicycle path and getting run over was constant. But we are already getting used to looking for bikes and the flow of people is so smooth it doesn't feel like a bustling city. When a car goes by its almost obtrusively loud.
But back to the sights, we walked through the Albert Cuyp Market and the flower market too. The Cuyp Market reminded me of the Cooper Young Festival in Memphis. Lots of artisan cheeses, clothes, purses, shoes, the list goes on. The the flower market was cool because it was mostly bulbs, not grown flowers. We have also walked through countless parks and squares with cute sidewalk cafes. Its really charming.
Well off we go to picnic in a park and see the harbor. More later!
We have come back to the hotel to rest after walking the city all day but I'm fairly adjusted to the time here and couldn't sleep, so I'm out here. The building has the courtyard in shade, I can hear birds talking back and forth, and a basket ball is being dribbled nearby. I can hear talking too. A restaurant must be nearby and I hear water running in one of the rooms. I also hear the hotel's tabby cat meow as Ginger joins me. Meagan is catching up on sleep upstairs.
Its lovely and surprisingly quiet in the city. I don't hear cars. There aren't many really, far more people on bicycles in suits, heals, and clothes that are effortlessly stylish in a completely non-American way.
On day 1 we walked all over the city. Not intentionally, we just keep getting bad direction after bad direction on where to find a bank we could exchange money at. To be fair, we missed the first one because we were so busy smelling flowers at a sidewalk shop we walked right by one. But we were exhausted from our travels which for me included an 8 hr layover followed by a frantic hour when Ginger and I weren't sure Meagan would make the flight from ATL to AMS. She just barely did (phew), but her bags didn't (bugger).
Then on the plane a man fell unconscious to the ground of the aisle while walking past our seats. He hit hard, we all scrambled, someone yelled "Is there a doctor here?" while others switched on their overhead lights and got the flight attendants' attention. There was a doctor and a former EMT within two aisles of the man and he seemed alright after his wife brought him blood pressure medicine and he used an oxygen tank from the plane.
So our first days was rather dramatic and eventually we got money. We stopped at a cute restaurant named Small Talk and got checked in to Annemarie. We then walked through the Antique District and saw a protest by Spanish people with signs saying (in English) something about not being slaves and education. Its already a blur but hopefully my pictures will remember for me.
The cat is now asleep lying on its side curled awkwardly over a thick extension cord. Animals are universally cute. Ginger rubs the cats belly as it rolls over and says "Everyone is content in the summertime".
You can probably get a sense of how laid-back I feel here. There are people everywhere and at first it the threat of stepping in the bicycle path and getting run over was constant. But we are already getting used to looking for bikes and the flow of people is so smooth it doesn't feel like a bustling city. When a car goes by its almost obtrusively loud.
But back to the sights, we walked through the Albert Cuyp Market and the flower market too. The Cuyp Market reminded me of the Cooper Young Festival in Memphis. Lots of artisan cheeses, clothes, purses, shoes, the list goes on. The the flower market was cool because it was mostly bulbs, not grown flowers. We have also walked through countless parks and squares with cute sidewalk cafes. Its really charming.
Well off we go to picnic in a park and see the harbor. More later!
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Away We Go
I'm sitting in the LEX airport waiting for my flight to ATL where I meet up with Ginger and Meagan before going off to Amsterdam. I have already benefited from random stranger's help with my bags and waiving fees and I hope I encounter the same generosity throughout my trip.
For those of you who don't know what I will be doing, here is a run-down. In Amsterdam, we will be the typical tourists. Meagan hasn't been to Europe and Ginger and I haven't been to The Netherlands and we had to fly through there on our way to Uganda, so why not!? If anyone has some recommendations for sightseeing, do tell!
We will be in Amsterdam for 6 days, then we are off to Kampala for 7 weeks. My dear friends Ginger McKay and Meagan Brown have been working for the last two years on an evaluation of a non-governmental organization called the SAS Foundation. It was founded by Dr. Richard Muhumuza, a Ugandan who received his medical education in the US, who while practicing medicine in Baton Rouge also wanted to address health care in his homeland. SAS consists of a low-cost primary health care clinic in Kampala and an HIV education program taught in primary and secondary schools throughout the country. The curriculum is taught by local mentors, some of whom are openly HIV positive.
I will join in on Ginger and Meagan's anthropological research and also network with humanitarian aid and development workers throughout Uganda as pre-dissertation research. Hopefully I will find a dissertation site, but I mostly wanted to get my feet on African soil. A friend who wanted to do research in one country got there and didn't like. It can happen. So I wanted to be sure Sub-Saharan Africa was really for me.
While Ginger and Meagan are my dear friends, they are also gifted anthropologists and academics. Ginger has been accepted to the Public Health Department at the Oregon State University and Meagan has been accepted to the Public Health Department at Louisiana State University. Both will pursue doctoral degrees and have been fully funded. With the rise in unemployment, grad schools have been flooded with record numbers of applications. Now more than ever, there acceptance and funding is a profound accomplishment. Since I just finished my first year in the doctoral program at the University of Kentucky's Anthropology Department, it is an exciting time for all of us.
So that's why I'm going and what I will be doing! The majority of my trip is going to be hard work, but I will try to keep this updated with my shenanigans. Last summer Ginger and Meagan said they wanted to hear about the everyday things in American life. The boring, mundane, things I will miss so please comment and keep me up to date on your shenanigans too!
My flight is about to board. Take care all and I'll post again in Amsterdam!
For those of you who don't know what I will be doing, here is a run-down. In Amsterdam, we will be the typical tourists. Meagan hasn't been to Europe and Ginger and I haven't been to The Netherlands and we had to fly through there on our way to Uganda, so why not!? If anyone has some recommendations for sightseeing, do tell!
We will be in Amsterdam for 6 days, then we are off to Kampala for 7 weeks. My dear friends Ginger McKay and Meagan Brown have been working for the last two years on an evaluation of a non-governmental organization called the SAS Foundation. It was founded by Dr. Richard Muhumuza, a Ugandan who received his medical education in the US, who while practicing medicine in Baton Rouge also wanted to address health care in his homeland. SAS consists of a low-cost primary health care clinic in Kampala and an HIV education program taught in primary and secondary schools throughout the country. The curriculum is taught by local mentors, some of whom are openly HIV positive.
I will join in on Ginger and Meagan's anthropological research and also network with humanitarian aid and development workers throughout Uganda as pre-dissertation research. Hopefully I will find a dissertation site, but I mostly wanted to get my feet on African soil. A friend who wanted to do research in one country got there and didn't like. It can happen. So I wanted to be sure Sub-Saharan Africa was really for me.
While Ginger and Meagan are my dear friends, they are also gifted anthropologists and academics. Ginger has been accepted to the Public Health Department at the Oregon State University and Meagan has been accepted to the Public Health Department at Louisiana State University. Both will pursue doctoral degrees and have been fully funded. With the rise in unemployment, grad schools have been flooded with record numbers of applications. Now more than ever, there acceptance and funding is a profound accomplishment. Since I just finished my first year in the doctoral program at the University of Kentucky's Anthropology Department, it is an exciting time for all of us.
So that's why I'm going and what I will be doing! The majority of my trip is going to be hard work, but I will try to keep this updated with my shenanigans. Last summer Ginger and Meagan said they wanted to hear about the everyday things in American life. The boring, mundane, things I will miss so please comment and keep me up to date on your shenanigans too!
My flight is about to board. Take care all and I'll post again in Amsterdam!
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