Man House

So last week, Mr. Odoi left to return to his home village in Tororo and took his two daughters with him, leaving his three sons here to fend for themselves for two weeks! This has happened several times before, apparently it is no big deal. Kids are incredibly self sufficient here. They cook for themselves. They maintain the gardens. They clean the house. All on their own volition.

The three sons, Junior, Oumolo, and Sam stayed behind. I'm quite fond of Junior and especially Oumolo. He always has a gigantic smile on his face whenever we're around each other. He's courteous and curious and giddy. The three sons staying behind made our duplex paradise officially the "man house" for two weeks. I was actually more excited than most of you can imagine or understand about this. Haha.

From left to right: Sam, Junior, and Oumolo

School is out now and there are not a lot of people around where I'm at. There is something rugged and adventurous about the four of us just living on this homestead in the middle of East Africa together, alone. It brings forth amazing feelings of independence and mystery. And it's really amazing to see these three boys do all the work themselves without a parent here to give them chores and discipline them. They are very well behaved.

So, anyways, our newly reduced "man house" dynamic has been something I've truly enjoyed the past week. We've done a lot of manly things let me tell you. Such as gardening together. We cook together and eat outside while sitting on a reed mat on the ground underneath the crystal clear, African star scape (which is an amazing experience and one of my most cherished moments in Uganda thus far).

About to eat some delicious pork

After dinner, we have the opportunity to go the cinema (as my kids call it), which consists of my laptop, speakers, and a movie. We watch real intense manly films. So far it it has been Madagascar and Ice Age 3 (which was pretty decent but a far fall from its two predecessors). They love Madagascar! They recognize a lot of the animals and think it is hilarious that they can talk and have human voices. It's a good time.

They are incredibly timid and hesitant to take more food at dinner. This is the culture in Uganda, when the food is limited, the adults and largest children get most of the food, the little ones have to endure with what small portion they get. I know they have to be hungry because this is the only decent meal they get of the day. When we watch movies, they slowly walk into my house, afraid to intrude or disturb me. I welcome them in each time with open arms, but they are still very shy. A stark difference from children in America many times.

The boys are very humble. And in a country where you are constantly bombarded with people asking you for things, this attitude is more than welcome.

Nothing like a hefty mountain of millet bread to make you feel full and healthy

Running Through My Mind

One of my staple activities of village life is running. I say staple because it contributes so much to my life and happiness at site.

First of all, I enjoy the routine. I like getting up three to four times a week and running through my village, greeting the villagers, seeing the sun crest over the shadow of the foothills of Mt. Elgon and taking in the cool morning breeze.

I enjoy the workout. I love the way I feel when I've just finished a good run. If I still feel strong and energetic at the end of my run, it lets me know I'm in shape that day, which makes me feel good. If I feel weak and weary by the end, I know I have gotten a good workout.

I enjoy the time spent thinking. My runs lately have been ranging anywhere from 30 to 90+ minutes. This gives me a lot of time to think and process. Sometimes, I don't think at all. I simply take in the scenery and listen to the music I have loaded up on my iPod. But many times, I think about the day's activities. I come up with new ideas for activities or things to write about. I process feelings and emotions about my human relationships. I propose different approaches to the same problems I encounter here, both in my work and personal life.

In the moment though, mostly, I just enjoy the experience. I marvel at how lucky I am, really. To be here in this beautiful country doing one of my favorite things in life.

I love how the red, Ugandan soil is hard enough for running, but soft enough to help avoid running injuries. I love how cool the air feels as it blows against my body, desiccating my face and arms from sweat.

I love the bright white smiles contrasted against the dark, black faces I get from random Ugandans I pass by. I love greeting my own students as they walk to school. I love how I can tell they are my students solely by their uniforms.

I love seeing the primary students in their adorable little uniforms walk to school with their brothers and sisters, many of them holding hands or carrying books. I love how just about everyday I run, at least some of them will join me for my run, sometimes for miles at a time. It's a humbling experience to know that elementary aged kids can keep up with you for an extended duration, what can I say, these Ugandans are fit!

I love how some Ugandans just stare in confusion, wondering why you are expending energy unnecessarily, instead of doing something more tangible, practical, beneficial, like digging or washing. They have a concept of running for exercise, they just don't do it. But they don't need to either.

I love how many children will give me high fives, or should I say low fives, they're pretty short. I love how Ugandans will thank me for running. Yes, literally. "Thank you for running!"

I love how when I get far away from my home and thus stranger and stranger to the locals, people will literally just stare at me for literally minutes without breaking away and turn their heads as I pass by in a synchronized motion. I still get a kick out of this one, although sometimes it can be creepy, like zombies watching you in a graveyard.

I love, on a hot day, going up to the closest random borehole and sticking my head under the faucet as the kids pump water for me, splashing my face and drinking as much as I can without feeling like I'm going to vomit. The kids are elated with my presence and I thank them sincerely for pumping.

I love the views! From the open fields of lush savannah sprinkled with trees to the sunrises behind Mt. Elgon. Most of all though, I love thinking about how I will cherish the memory of this routine for the rest of my life.

At the end of my run, I walk a bit. I eventually retreat back to my house to find my neighbors still out digging or washing, their exercise. I stretch. And the forgotten reasons for my love and appreciation of water return to me as I quench my thirst.

I like that I have the time, flexibility, and opportunity to engage in such a meaningful exercise. I enjoy my morning strolls across the lawn on my way to school after a long run. One where I can still feel the pain in my leg muscles and know that they will ache even more after four hours of standing and teaching. I'm not a masochist, I just appreciate the routine emotion, however brief it may be.

Running with a parade of small followers

Term 3: Check

The first school term of 2011 and my third term teaching in Uganda has come to a close. The last two weeks were filled with teachers grading exams and hurriedly entering final grades into report cards (all done by hand) before the deadline. On Thursday, students filtered onto the school grounds on foot and bicycle from all directions, anxious to receive their one and only meaningful source of feedback for the term (a typical course has one test per term - at the end).

The turnout was pretty good! Most of the students showed up to pick up their report cards. I had made it a goal to finish marking all my exams and entering report cards by Tuesday. With the help of an obliging student teacher, I was successful.

Filling out report cards this term was a revelatory experience. As I turned through each page of the thick packet of report cards (each page representing a different student), I realized just how many students I never see. Some names I had never heard of. I try and take attendance and give quizzes throughout the term and still, I had not received anything from many of the names in this packet. It made me wonder where they were and what they were doing. What was their reason for not coming to school? Did they get married? Did they transfer to another school? Were they really sick? Did they just not feel like it? If they were a girl, did they get pregnant? I'll likely never hear the final answer for most of these students.

Last week the government of Uganda sent out a military official to every single USE (Universal Secondary Education) school to conduct a nationwide head count of all the students. The government wanted to know how many students were benefiting from its still very young and inchoate USE program. Officially, 637 students are registered at Kamuge High School. I would estimate the quotidian attendance to be far less than this number, maybe 20-25% lower.

I took this snapshot of our official student count. It's broken down by level, sex, and stream. Now, common sense would suggest that each stream would have roughly the same number of students. But they don't! Notice that S2 Blue has 55 while S2 Green has 81! Why the huge gap? I've asked my teachers several times if there is any discriminating criteria used to differentiate the students and create the streams. There are exactly none. It just is. Like many things that don't make sense. It just is. Getting used to and accepting this paradigm has been one of my most challenging struggles in Peace Corps.

Moving on, we had an assembly to ready the students for the head count exercise. Some teachers got up and made a few remarks. Mr. Odoi (English teacher and my next door neighbor) got up and spoke about the lack of a "reading culture" engrained within the students at Kamuge High School. He blamed the students for not taking advantage of the school library and chastised them, talking of their "flimsy excuses".

"Here, it's as if someone said we don't want Africans to have information, so we'll just put the information in books so they'll never discover it." I don't agree with this logic for obvious reasons, but the mere shock of hearing it humored my senses a bit. It also saddened me. These words isolate the students and make them feel as if they are an inferior group of human beings, "these students of Kamuge High". This reducing and destructive tone often dominates assemblies and is a misguided approach. And I see it in the attitudes and confidence of the students everyday! They don't think they are worth much and it shows. The lack of self esteem and assertiveness is epidemic amongst our student population. And I'm reminded of a quote I recently read.

“While I was talking to some of the teachers about the challenges they face, one young teacher mentioned what she called the “These Kids Syndrome” - the willingness of society to find a million excuses for why “these kids” can’t learn; how “these kids come from tough backgrounds” or “these kids are too far behind.”

‘When I hear that term, it drives me nuts,’ the teacher told me. ‘They’re not “These kids.” They’re our kids.’ ”

The Audacity of Hope, Barack Obama

These words really brought to light my exact feelings on the way the students are managed here in Uganda. But it also shows that our struggles are universal. That they occur everywhere on the globe, from Uganda to America, provides a common sense of shared brotherhood, brings comfort, and thus peace.

Things Heat Up in the Pearl

If you've been following the news lately, you might have seen some headlines about Uganda. Opposition leaders have been arrested all week, some of them multiple times, for staging a Walk to Work/Walk to Church day to protest high fuel prices in Uganda. Police claimed they were "inciting violence". From everything I've read and heard, this is an outrageous lie and an oppressive abuse of state power. These people were simply trying to walk to work, there was no call to action, except the action of walking.

Anyways, I didn't really understand the whole stunt in the first place. I was told by some of my fellow Ugandans that Kizza Besigye, the main opposition leader, was trying to identify with the common man and gain their support. If you ask me it's a bit too late to be staging such acts right after an election where the incumbent candidate won an overwhelming majority of the popular vote, but whatever.

If you are trying to dissent against government, why protest something (commodity prices) that is not state controlled or even within the realm of government control? I think it was just another way for Ugandans to express their dissatisfaction. There have been many passionate and long discussions among my teachers this week regarding these protests.

My head teacher made a clever observation questioning why the government even chose to condemn and arrest these leaders for simply walking. In doing so, the government sends a signal that they think these leaders are a threat and could potentially cause serious havoc. Why not let them walk? Why give them all this publicity?

Things got out of hand on Thursday and Dr. Besigye ended up getting shot in the hand by a rubber bullet. Below is a picture of him at a news conference shortly after receiving medical care.

Seeing this picture of Besigye in his Ugandan-style cast stirred up some emotions within me. This is sad. The man was simply trying to walk to work that morning. He was doing nothing wrong, breaking no laws and he ends up being treated like an animal. I think being in country for a year and listening to my fellow teachers rail against the evils of Museveni has instilled within me some feelings of sympathy for opposition leaders.

These are simply people with new and different ideas on how to run and improve the country and best care for its people. My time here makes their effort and ideas important to me. And my interest and hope for their earned success escalates.

Why Development is So Difficult

While in Pallisa last weekend, I came across what was once the Pallisa Town Council Public Library. I'm told it was built a couple of years ago by a Peace Corps volunteer. It was stocked with plenty of books, computers, and other equipment.

Today, the library is closed. No one knows why. I asked a few people that worked around the area why it had closed. Know one came up with a reason that was either clear or sufficient enough to justify why the library was currently not operating. The closest thing resembling a decent answer was that the power system had been destroyed, but they didn't know how or why. A library can still provide many benefits even in the absence of power, so I considered this excuse to be insufficient.

This is a universal struggle with development efforts. To build something, while a great deed, is not good enough. For it to be successful, it must be able to endure and sustain itself even after it's creator long departs. It requires the community to be emotionally, physically, and preferably monetarily invested in the project to give them some incentive to see it through and maintain whatever result they gain from their investment. I'm sure this library was great when it was opened, but somewhere along the way some line was severed and that was it, the sustainability failed and you end up with a useless pile of bricks. So I may try to reopen this thing, who knows, if I can find someone who cares enough to keep it open once I'm gone. People here need books and information, I just don't understand.

Unravelling the Pregnancy Mystery

I met with our local health center this morning to discuss a planned World Malaria Day event I'm facilitating on April 26th.

While there, I asked them about the pregnancy tests they conducted at my school. They informed me that they examine each girl, checking first their stomachs for any obvious signs of pregnancy, i.e. a belly.

Then, they check their breasts, specifically their nipples. They told me that once a girl/woman becomes pregnant, her nipples will darken. And she may form dimples around her nipples. They also squeeze the nipples to check for breast milk.

If, through any of these tests, they have any suspicion that a girl is pregnant, they bring them back to the health center for a urine test to confirm.

Sound good women?

HOW TO: Create a 7-Acre School Garden... in Uganda

Yesterday, I took a trip to Mbale with our school's Head of Department for Agriculture, Mr. Francis Kagodo to purchase supplies for our 7-acre planned plot of corn and beans. The intent of this project is both to give the students practical experience in agriculture and practice controlled experiments, testing different fertilizers, herbicides, genetically modified seeds, etc. as well as provide lunch for the students when the crop is mature enough to harvest, grind, and consume as posho and beans.

What is posho you say? It's raw corn ground up in a very fine flour, mixed with water and boiled at high heat to create a sort of chunk-like (can't think of any other way to describe it) food that you eat with beans. It's my least favorite food in Uganda. It's also what I eat everyday at my school.

Plow the fields, I think the kid is there just to look cool and hit the bulls

Buy seeds, in this case beans

Transport via ghetto wheel barrows

What are they tranporting you ask? Well, let me tell you...

4 - 50 kg bags of fertilizer, yeah, that's 440 pounds

5 - 20 kg bags of maize seeds

1 - 50 kg bag of beans

Watch other people do the work, my favorite part

The picture above is of Francis. We literally did almost nothing to transport all of this. It was great. We just hired these guys to do all the heavy lifting for less than a dollar each.

Load onto taxi

Wait 3.5 hours for taxi to leave, this smile was so forced, Francis' expression is much more accurate

Lock safe and secure in Joe's office

Line item expenses (in Ug sh):

Fertilizer 440,000

Plowing 180,000

Transport 36,000

Corn seed 100,000

Sprayer 70,000

Planting lines 15,000

Herbicide 17,500

Bean seed 125,000

Total 983,500

About $410.

Next step: Hire (without pay) 500 secondary students to plant the seeds and fertilizer. We start Monday!