Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Faces of GLOW/BUILD

Here are some pictures that I managed to upload before I got back to site (i.e. painfully slow internet):



The 11 kids I selected to attend Camps GLOW & BUILD: from top left clockwise - Takali Janet, Aloko Evelyn, Otibok Philip, Machali Geoffrey, Owino Mesusera, Nfumbe Ben, Aisu Ben Julius, Mugombesya George, Egolet Ignatius, Acham Margret, Achola Scovia




My team & I at Camp BUILD, go CRANES!!!



My team & I posing in front of Lake Victoria



Two members of my team: Brian (left), Paul (right), aren't they adorable!!

Saturday, November 26, 2011

End of Terms & Bridges

The term has ended for Kamuge High. Exams have been given and now just need to be marked and entered into report cards. Thus begins the great long break that exists until Term 1 starts up next year in early February. This was definitely a challenging term for me. But I can look forward to applying lessons learned towards my next and final term here in Uganda. It's crazy to think about how my time is dwindling here.


Bridges are collapsing in Pallisa District! Two bridges on two separate roads out of my village have collapsed due to the incredibly large amount of rain we've been getting. These roads are essentially constructed out of rock and dirt, so they wear away easily when lots of water comes. Locals are trying to repair them but nobody knows exactly when they will be finished.


I had a great visit with a couple (brother and sister) of students last Sunday. They wrote me a formal letter inviting me to their place on Sunday, November 20. It also stated that I was to be picked up at exactly 8:25 am. Sure enough, around 8 that morning some random man showed up at my door to pick me up. He droves us deep into the village until we arrived at this single brick building that was their church. Apparently I had also been invited to the church service that morning.


It lasted 3 hours. Some of it was really good, such as the singing and dancing. I really enjoy those traditions. Other parts were quite boring, such as the sermon. But I picked up what I could from the experience. Afterwards we all travelled to the students' home where we had a delightful meal of matoke, millet bread, rice, and chicken. The whole day took 8 hours, from 8 in the morning til 4 in the afternoon. Afterwards I was just completely exhausted, and I didn't know why. All I had done was sit, talk, and eat. I immediately had to go home and rest.


My birthday and subsequent turkey day went off successfully. I spent a few days up in Gulu with about 40 other PCVs where we had a potluck at an Ethiopian Restaurant that allowed us to use their kitchen. The event was a blast. PCVs are unlike any other group I've met and I've definitely acquired a huge appreciation for my group and the bonds that we've made over the past two years.


This weekend I'm in Kampala for the MTN Kampala Marathon. I'll be running the half tomorrow morning. Wish me luck!


Links to some new Picasa photo albums:


Sex Education

https://picasaweb.google.com/115925164564481520821/SexEd?authkey=Gv1sRgCKWRhvao19ShEQ


Trip to Kenya

https://picasaweb.google.com/115925164564481520821/Kenya?authkey=Gv1sRgCIyj2L7coN26Mg


Nile River Rafting Competition

https://picasaweb.google.com/115925164564481520821/NRERaftRace?authkey=Gv1sRgCOmrgMmK3azspgE


Thanks for reading!

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Tear Gas and Eating Disorders

In Peace Corps, certain things that would typically seem odd become the day-to-day norm. These things include:


*during about 50% of meals, consuming food that has a small amount of rocks and sand in it (just to keep the stomach in top shape)

*eating really old and moldy bread, because the nearest resupply point is miles of torturous Ugandan transit away

*eating rotten eggs, see above

*going for days without bathing

*essentially constantly NOT getting a good night's sleep because of the numerous and varying disturbances that is Uganda's essence, I. HATE. ROOSTERS.


Seriously, my neighbors keep two roosters INSIDE their house, which is also my house (we live in a duplex with no ceiling and noise travels freely). Every morning at 5:15 for the past month, the cocks crow every 20-30 seconds for a good hour or two. Horrible. I've pleaded with them, my neighbors. I offered to actually pay them money to slaughter them and enjoy the feast. They refused. They said they were waiting for their mother to return and that's when they would slaughter them. The mother has returned, the roosters still live.


It's funny how your mind adjusts to things over time. A month ago, I was irate, completely furious at the disturbances these little animals cause in my life. Today, it has become a part of my life, and I don't mind it as much. It's amazing what the human body and mind can endure if forced to do so for an extended period of time.


I'm sorry for the lack of pictures on here as of late. The truth is internet has been really bad lately. The only thing my connection allows me to upload is pretty much words. I hope those will suffice for now.


I spent the weekend in Budadiri (lush village at the base of Mt. Elgon) visiting another PCV and working in his school. We met with over 100 boys to discuss sexual education...again. I think I'm enjoying it more and more as I facilitate additional sessions. This time the subject of condom use was brought up. I read the following statement to the boys: "Condoms cause cancers". 100% of the 100+ boys believed this statement to be true. I was pretty shocked. I expected some of them to believe it, but not ALL of them.


So I asked them, why do you guys think this? They told me that they were told by their headmaster and teachers that this was true, that condoms actually did cause cancer. And subsequently they all believed it and considered it a fact. I have several theories as to why they were told this by their teachers. One theory, many Ugandans don't like condoms. They don't like the way they feel and they don't like how they encourage pre-marital sex. I'll abstain (get it... get it) from commenting on either one of those. But the fact that the leaders of the school were making up lies and knowingly telling them to their children is appalling. Again, another reason why containing HIV/AIDS is a challenge here. No protection means, well, no protection.


During that same weekend, a riot broke out a couple hundred feet from the PCV's house whom I was visiting. Don't ask me why they were rioting, I still don't know. In response to the chaos, police and military forces launched several tear gas canisters into the mob, the resulting gas of which proceeded to blow over to the house which I was staying in and into my eyes, nose, and throat. It was not a pleasant experience. Several students and I proceeded to run away as far from the gas as possible, across the football field and towards the school, but the gas had already taken its effect and it made it difficult to see while running. The stuff is effective. I doubt I would continue to riot if it were used on me. I recovered quickly though and all was well after an hour or two.


Ok, I've been writing this entry in pieces throughout the last week. New update. The roosters still annoy. I managed to get my neighbors to slaughter one of them. Now, another has reared it's ugly head and is even more loud and annoying than the first. I'm thinking I'm going to have to get others involved to resolve this issue, I'm confident I can though. I'll keep you posted.


For the past two and a half weeks UNEB (Uganda National Examinations Board) has been conducting nationwide exams on all S4 candidates. This includes our candidates at Kamuge High. Due to lack of space and the need to accommodate all 130 S3 candidates at my school, our Headmaster and Director of Studies decided to send the rest of the students, the S1, 23 and S3 classes, home. So basically very little has been going on at my school. So I've had to find ways to entertain and keep myself busy. In Kamuge, this can be a challenge. Reading helps.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

At the Entrance of Hell's Gate + Other Unpredictable Situations

It appears I've been remiss on entries lately so I'm going to try and get all of you caught up on what's been going on here in Uganda. It's been a couple months so I have a lot to write about and a lot to try and capture and encapsulate to feed to you. So here it goes.


Team Peace Corps dominated the Nile River Rafting Competition a couple of weekends ago. I'll try to post pictures when I have a faster connection. We had a great team consisting of five beefy young gentlemen and one very dedicated young female. We competed against 17 other teams in three heats on a flatwater stretch of the river. Not only did we win first place, but we beat out our competition by over 50 seconds! It was a great weekend full of fun and a sense of accomplishment.


Our trip to Kenya was a success, sort of. I went with my good friend John. We arrived in a Nairobi after a mentally devastating 15 hour bus ride from Mbale. It was horrible. But Nairobi was great. I went there to take the LSAT. I was scheduled to take it on Saturday afternoon.


Everything was going great up until Friday evening at about 7 p.m. when I came down with a fever of 104 degrees and began feeling really dizzy like I was going to pass out. As you might imagine, I was quite distraught over what potentially was coming for me over the next few hours that night. I also happened to be trapped in the back of a taxi who had no idea where we needed to go. All the windows were up and it was 100 degrees outside.


This did not help my fever nor my level of calm. I was starting to panic to say the least. I rolled down the windows and stuck my head out the window of the car as it was moving through Nairobi traffic. The whole time the taxi driver is yelling at me to close the windows because we were driving in downtown Nairobi at night and people like to rob you, a lot. Seriously, everyone I know that has gone to Kenya has been robbed. Nairobbery. I kept the windows down and my head out, deciding that avoiding passing out was more important than avoiding robbery.


We had suspected malaria but it was not confirmed. I had been tested for both malaria and typhoid at the local health center in Nairobi, both were negative. I had been having a fever over 103 for several hours that day and it was not going down. When it peaked at 104 I was panicking. I called Peace Corps medical to find out what I should do. They told me to go to a hospital. I did not want to do that. So when we arrived back at our hotel I made a mad dash to our hotel room, stripped off all my clothes immediately, and ran into the shower and drenched myself in freezing water. Thanks for the tips on getting fevers down all those years Mom!!!


Like I said, I was freaking out. I happened to have brought my malaria meds with me on that trip. After the shower, I downed the first dose. The thing about these tropical diseases is a lot of times they yield a false negative. So you never know for sure if you have it or not when it is negative. I started feeling better later that night. Though I was really incoherent talking to John and others. I seemed to be drifting in and out of knowing what was going on exactly. John would try to talk to me and I would not make any sense to him.


The next day the fever was still persisting but it was in the 100 ish range instead of the hellish 104 the night before. I was feeling better. Though still a bit dizzy. I was able to take my test. I'm not sure if my sickness affected my performance but I was just happy I was able to take it at all.


Kenya is quite a bit more developed than Uganda. Nairobi is cleaner, more organized, less populated. The roads are better in many areas. People don't single out white people as much in Nairobi. And the customer service was amazing! We could tell we weren't in Uganda anymore during the first meal we had in Nairobi.


The second half of our trip we stayed in Naivasha with some random people John met on couchsurfing. These people were very unique. They were artists, and their house was wicked crazy. But I loved it's character and they were incredibly warm, friendly, and accomodating.


While we were there, trials were being conducted at The Hague concering the post election violence that happened in Kenya back in 2007 and 2008. So we're sitting there, watching these trials on tv at the International Criminal Court, only to find out that the town we were in and the people we were staying with were at the epicenter of the violence! It was crazy and sad at the same time.


We had no idea. Then all of the sudden witnesses and lawyers start talking about Naivasha this and Naivasha that. This led John and I to start questioning our hosts on just what exactly happened and why. It was a truly unique experience. And what ridiculous timing for the trials to be going on while we were staying with these people. I really enjoyed getting their perspective and it felt a bit historic just being there.


One awesome thing about Kenya, their taxis are pretty much like discotheques on wheels. John and I got in one our second night in town and it was literally like being in the middle of a dance club, crazy lighting in all. The music was blaring, the green lights shining, it was nuts. Maybe people were imagining dancing in their heads and this made the commute less miserable? I don't know. Anyways, it was a very enjoyable experience.


John and I also went to Hell's Gate National Park where we rented a couple of bikes and cycled through the park, seeing lots of game. We hiked through this gorge that was the inspiration for the Mufasa death scene in the Lion King movie, it was pretty awesome.


October 9th was Uganda's independence day. A couple days before on Friday I walked up to my headmaster and casually mentioned the holiday to him and wished him a happy independence day. "But are we independent?" was his reply. He then proceeded to go into a diatribe about how terribly reliant Uganda is on foreign aid and how people cannot think and do for themselves. I was not really interested in sitting through this lecture, but somehow I had to endure it for about 10 minutes before I snuck away. Independence is not celebrated the same here as we are used to. For many people, it serves as a reminder of how not independent this nation is. Others look at it with slightly more optimism, but that is harder to find.


Today, I had another life skills session with my S2 boys. There were 30+ students in the room. Again we played the game where I read a statement and they had to decide whether the statement was a fact or a myth. Overall, I would say the session was a great success. After we finished the game, I had the boys write down their questions for me anonymously and I answered each one in front of the group. I've listed some examples of their questions below.


*Is it true that women also release sperm into men?

*Is it true that whites marry their daughters?

*Is it true that in America, the use of homosexuality is used to control AIDS and the population?

*If I use a condom for the first two rounds, but not the third round, can a girl still get pregnant?

*If you have blood type O, can you still get HIV/AIDS?

*In terms of sex between American women and African women, which are sweeter to sex? (These guys must think I'm a huge pimp or something.)

*If I play sex with a girl without releasing sperm, can I still get AIDS?

*What if I swallow pills before I play sex, can I still get HIV/AIDS?

*Sir, is it true that when you play sex with a girl in water while swimming, she cannot get pregnant?

*Is it true that if you are a boy and you don't have sex early, you cannot produce children later on?

*Why do Americans marry a man with a man and a woman with a woman?


Homosexuality comes up a lot during these sessions. And it is always a really difficult topic to discuss and one that I struggle with communicating on. Ugandans view it VERY negatively. They think it is totally unacceptable and a sin against God. I try to explain to them that in America we have a lot of freedoms, and one of those freedoms is to marry whomever you want, at least in a very small number of states. Still, they despise it. It a huge cultural difference.


Another taboo subject is that of masturbation. Again, Ugandans view it very negatively. They think it is totally inappropriate and a sin against God. I try to encourage a healthy dialogue about the costs and benefits of doing so. I tell them that there are far fewer risks to masturbation than to actual sexual intercourse. But I have to walk a very fine line on what I say versus what I recommend. You have to respect the Ugandan culture to some degree, otherwise you lose credibility in their eyes.


To many Ugandans, the only acceptable form of sexual gratification is vaginal intercourse. Whether it be with one woman, or many different ones at the same time. This is one of the reasons why AIDS spreads so quickly amongst the Ugandan population.


One thing that I found very startling came up when we were talking about HIV/AIDS testing. I personally went to our local health facilities, Kamuge Health Center, and took an HIV test. Whenever you go to a local health center they write your results on a yellow Ministry of Health card. I wanted to take a test and get a copy of this card to show to my students. I wanted to be a good example and encourage them all to go out and get tested. The testing process is so easy and fast here. The whole process took less than 10 minutes and cost me nothing, yeah, free. They were more than happy to accomodate me.


When I brought up this option and began encouraging my boys to go and get tested, they said they had tried but that they had been denied. Why had they been denied? They had been interrogated by the local nurses at the health center. "Why do you want to get an HIV test?! Does this mean you are having sex?! You shouldn't be having sex at your age!!" These young men had actually made the deliberate effort to get a test but were denied this right by their health officials. People who are supposed to be looking out for the health of their citizens.


I've heard similar stories from girls who want to go for family planning (i.e. birth control). Whenever they try to go and get pills or an injection, they are interrogated and denied by the local health "professionals". This is one of the reasons why the local fertility rate is still well above six children per woman. Currently, the population of Uganda is 33 M. By 2050, at current growth rates, this number will reach upwards of 100 M. This number is astounding and has epic consequences on the quality of life and environmental consequences Ugandans will experience over the next few decades.


The country cannot even sustain a population of 33 M as it is. Moreover, that population is contained in a land size approximately the size of the state of Oregon. Now imagine 100 M living in the state of Oregon with little or no infrastructure. It's startling and needs and should be addressed immediately. The head of state here tells Ugandans to go out and produce abundantly. "Have as many kids as you can afford!" He says. Wow, what words of wisdom coming from their nation's leader.


Later that day, one of my counterparts, Mr. Otuna Silver, and I cotaught a three hour math/physics session in the afternoon with the S4s. They are taking their final exams beginning one week from now, so it is all cramming from here on out. The session consisted of us responding to random sample test questions, showing them how to solve them and answering their questions about the method.


Mr. Otuna kicked off the session by saying, "You know, at this point, I truly believe that all your questions are sent from God. That he knows what questions are going to be on the test and he has told you to ask us here today." At first I had no idea what he was talking about because his accent is so thick, even for a Ugandan, that I can barely understand what the hell he is saying 90% of the time anyways. I heard him properly this time and just kind of laughed in my head and agreed with him. "Yes, heaven sent! Send them our way!"


Mr. Otuna is actually quite a good teacher. I respect him more than most. One reason is because he doesn't just simply dictate to the students. This is how a majority of my fellow teachers TEACH! They enter the classroom, they walk to a desk or window, sit down, open their archaic notebook full of ancient notes that probably haven't been updated for two decades, and they simply read the notes, line by line, word for word and expect the students to write them down perfectly. The problem is, well one of several, is that students the students don't understand English that well.


Otuna actually writes on the chalkboard. He has so much energy when he teaches I have to laugh, but I also admire him at the same time. He literally yells at the students, but it's a well intentioned, thoughtful yell. He keeps their attention this way. And he observes what they are picking up and what they are not. He is the class teacher for S4. These students occupy 90% of his time and he is focused on trying to get them as prepared as possible all year for their upcoming exams. He is also a pretty bright guy. He knows what he is talking about and on some level he cares about the student's well being.


After we're done teaching, he is so excited! "Mathias, you were so good today! Those business maths problems, you performed them so well." He says. I just kind of laugh and tell him how impressed I am with his performance and how well he did. He always has a huge smile on his face. But I know there is so much more going on inside his head.


Earlier this morning, I was sitting outside under a Mango Tree eavesdropping on Mr. Odoi's English lesson. His subject matter was very interesting. He was dictating. His words were like erratic gunfire; unpredictable, loud, inconsistent. The opposite of relaxing. If I were a student in the room I would not be able to focus through the verbal assault.


Like I said, his subject matter was interesting, "George Bush Sr., George Bush Sr., George Bush Sr., initiated Operation Desert Storm! Operation Desert Storm! Operation what, Desert Storm. Bill Clinton, Bill, Clinton, was a DEMOCRAT! (yells loudly) A DEMOCRAT! (yells louder) And presided mostly during a time of peace and stability, during a time of peace and stability, peace and stability. BARACK! HUSSEIN! OBAMA! conducted two wars but they were mostly concluding. George W. Bush Jr., George W. Bush Jr., George W. Bush Jr. started war in AFFFI-GANNI-STAAANN! AFFFI-GANNNI-STANNNN!" I'm not sure what he was trying to say but it was so interesting listening to him recite these words.


Speaking of sitting underneath Mango Trees, I pulled a Mango Fly maggot out of my friend John's armpit a few weeks back using some vaseline and a sewing needle. We have it on video, I'll try to post a link soon. Yep, us Peace Corps volunteers get to have all the fun.


Now I lay, underneath the safe comfort the barrier of my mosquito net draped bed provides. Protecting me from all the creatures that is the outside world of Africa. It has been raining a lot here lately. October is supposed to be a dry month. But the weather keeps on changing. Thanks developed world for polluting the atmosphere and causing crazy, erratic weather!!! Ha.


A few nights it has rained so hard that EITHER 1) my roof begins to leak and I am awoken by water dripping all over my head and pillow; OR 2) the wind blows so hard that it physically blows the rain in sideways through my windows drenching me and my bed. Naturally this happens at the most inconvenient of times, around 1 or 2 in the morning when I should be fast asleep. Why is my bed near the window you say? Because it's the best place to catch the breeze during the scalding hot days that spill into the nights and make it incredibly difficult to sleep. Oh, Uganda, such wonderfully, not enjoyable experiences, but ones that I will never forget.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

More Words on Taxis

Last weekend, I decided to steal away from site for a night to meet up with a few other PCVs in Mbale. It took about 20 minutes for a taxi to drive by right past my house. I yell at the top of my lungs from my front porch for it to stop. It does. Nearly empty, I jump in the front seat. Yes! The front seat! Best seat in these death carriages. The least bumpy, the least cramped.

We roll down the road about one mile and proceed to stop at a junction for 20 solid minutes. Nothing is happening, no one is boarding. We are just sitting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.

We roll down the road another two miles to the next trading center and proceed to wait for another 20 minutes. Each time I see a hint of a vehicle coming down the road I try to flag them down and hitchhike the rest of the way to Mbale. Fail... fail fail.

After standing outside the taxi in the middle of the road for a few minutes, I walk up to the driver. "Let's go." I say.

"No customers." He responds.

I'm in no particular hurry on this particular day but I really don't feel like waiting two hours to reach Mbale if I don't have to. This is the westerner in me. I tell him I will give him 10,000 shillings if we make it to Mbale by 1:30. The time is now 12:38. No taxi has ever made it that distance in less than an hour.

The normal price is 3,000 shillings, these days that's just over a dollar. So I was offering him over three times the regular price. For a 40k trip. When I got back in the taxi I wasn't quite sure if he had accepted my proposition or not. All I knew is we left then and there. Slowly accelerating. More and more. We start going really fast. Like, uncomfortably fast on these crappy dirt roads. I begin to think he has accepted my challenge.

Honestly, I have never seen Ugandans move so fast in my entire 19+ months here. I kept telling the driver and the conductor 1:30 and not a minute late. I would deduct 1,000 shillings for every minute we were late. Everyone in the taxi was bursting out laughing at my remarks. They were all happy because I was incentivizing these guys to move faster and they were also enjoying watching them struggle to move as fast as they could.

The freaking driver and conductor were yelling at Ugandans on the side of the road to get into the taxi as fast as possible. They had a deadline. These passengers were so confused, they had no idea what was going on and certainly weren't used to this sense of urgency and dare I say, quality service. Time in money!

"Mzungu you add more ten!" The conductor yells as he's helping a woman carry her bag into the taxi. I'm guessing he meant ten more minutes.

We barrel on down the road. The driver and conductor are trying to find a perfect balance between stopping and picking up as many people as possible and making my 1:30 deadline.

The crazy bastards made it! We rolled into town right as the clock hit 1:30. They were so happy. I was a bit hesitant because I didn't want to pay the hefty toll. But I had to keep my word. I passed them a 10,000 shilling note and departed the taxi, happy to be here a little earlier.

On the way back, I crammed into the second row. Designed to seat three people, we had six, plus a child. It was not enjoyable, to say the least. The taxi was slow. Every time the conductor opened and closed the door it looked liked it was going to fall off. It wasn't connected at the top.

Midway through the journey. The door jams. And we cannot get out of the taxi. It takes about ten minutes to resolve this issue. I'm miserable. Hating life.

They resolve the door jam issue and the journey continues. A few people have exited the vehicle and the guy that was sitting in between my legs twenty minutes ago, head in my crotch, is now seated comfortably next to me. I'm jamming out to Kanye West's album "My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy". I offer him one half of my headphones and we jam out together. I have no idea of his name or if he even enjoys the music. But I take pleasure out of the experience anyways. Life is good.

I arrive at my stop. Exit taxi. Breathe air. Come back to life.

Tuesday. I get a call from Pallisa Post Office saying I have a package. Thanks MOM!!! I get excited. Flag down taxi, which passes almost immediately after I get to the main road. Shocking. This taxi, with a legal capacity of 15, is loaded with about 22, plus multiple children and infants. The back is exploding with rice sacks full of... whatever. Twenty minutes later, tire blowout. Everyone out. Find a new lift. Delay, delay. Surprise!

Such is life in Uganda. One minute things are going amazingly, the next... disaster, preventable disaster. Certainly does build your mental endurance. Hoorah!!!






Thursday, August 25, 2011

August Reflections

It's been awhile since my last post. Mainly because it's been difficult to find a substantive topic to write about. So I'm just going to write about my observations over the last month.

Term II officially ended on August 12. And before that our school was only just half functioning. So I've had more time on my hands to focus on other things besides teaching.

I want to write about the concept of normal. What is normal exactly? The New Oxford American Dictionary defines normal as "conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected". Normal is everyday, expected. So over time and with change, everyone's normal evolves.

Coming to Uganda 18+ months ago represented a substantial shift in my normal. The normal for me was living in one of the, if not the most wealthy, productive, and advanced nations in the world. I took a step back and realized that what that is isn't really normal, on a global scale. We're not the normal. We're odd. Peculiar. Different.

Much of the world continues to live in harsh conditions, in oppression, in poverty, in suffering. We volunteers of 20 + x years of age came over here with our conception of normal based in a world where less than 5% of the population lives the way we do. I don't think there is anything that can fully prepare you for such an abrupt transition.

I've talked a little bit about the concept of option and choice in the past. These luxuries are a major discriminator between the rich world and the poor world. I've appreciated this difference in some regards and been frustrated with it in others.

The things I really appreciate, for example, are inherent in Uganda's simplicity. In it's lack of choice.

In the village, I know I'm going to have one of maybe five different wholesome and nutritious local Ugandan meals everyday. Not something that was processed and injected with chemicals X, Y and Z whose selection was based on some test results from a focus group of a study conducted on a representative sample of the overall population of consumers based out of Columbus, Ohio. In Uganda, you get the opportunity and privilege to go back to eating actual, real food at its most basic level. Not some derivative of what used to be food.

I appreciate the cash economy. Meaning, cash is the economy. Business is conducted and goods are exchanged via payments made in cash, with actual notes. Credit is just not a feasible or sustainable option for most. I appreciate the simplicity inherent in this system. You can only spend what you have and you only receive what you earn.

I appreciate the limited options at the market. Not having to decide on which one of six different types of tomatoes to buy. There is only one type, if they are even available that day.

I appreciate the simple mechanics of everyday life. Most people get around in my village by foot or by bicycle. Transportation is exercise here. It is also a social function. Everywhere everyone goes they greet one another. And greeting is a HUGE deal here, one of the most important social duties countrywide.

Ugandans don't compartmentalize themselves like us Americans tend to do. Isolated. Moving from one box to another. Bedroom box to bathroom box to car box to office box back to car box to return to home box, rinse and repeat. Boxes are few in Uganda. And the boxes that exist are shared by many.

Every time I go into Kampala, I'm overwhelmed by the options of places to eat. Choice brings about complication. First world problems.

I appreciate the different phrases Ugandans use to say things. Examples....

"Well be back!" - A derivative of "Welcome back!", this is said to someone who has come back from doing something or being somewhere, one of my favorites.

"Next time better." - Said to someone when a situation doesn't quite work out the way you had hoped for, another close favorite

"Well done." - Not sure what I think about this one but it is said to just about anyone for just about anything. Even if you have done nothing at all.

"You've been lost!" - Said to someone when they have not been around for some time and/or have been somewhere else for some time.

And then there is the plethora of replies you hear when you ask someone how they are doing. I love them all....

"I'm fine."
"We are ok."
"We are somehow fair just."
"Well, yes, we are trying."
"We are progressing slowly slowly."

And then some of the more thought provoking responses I have received....

"We are struggling."
"The struggle continues."
"Praise God."

And my personal favorites.....

"We are fine, but poverty."
"We are ok, just famine."
"Good, but no money."

Yes, I am a fearless, heartless PCV who casually brushes dismisses the likes of suffering individuals and feels nothing when encountering homeless and starving children on the streets. Ok, not quite. However, there is some truth to that statement. You do become incredibly desensitized to seeing so much hardship.

But you become incredibly sensitized to seeing all the good in people, and the comedy that often ensues from it. Not because good people and funny things are uncommon here, but because you don't expect to see them in such a hard environment. Nothing could be further from the truth. And when you come across them, it's a transcending experience.

Like when I'm in Kampala making a purchase and the salesman tells me they don't carry plastic bags for the goods they sell because they are environmentally friendly. In a city where the streets are filled with garbage and smoldering exhaust, this is comical. And I appreciate it. It makes me love that guy and everything he has done for me in the past five minutes. I want to just throw money at him to reward him for such a simple circumstance.

Or when a man buys a water for me on the bus ride home because he knows I'm thirsty, out of courtesy. My heart swells up with joy at this simple act of kindness.

And when I'm sitting on that same bus, in someone else's seat, and a man approaches me and tells me I'm in his seat, we promptly find a way to figure the situation out. He and a couple others engage in a satirical exchange mocking the recent opposition protests. "Yes, yes, we had a problem with the seats here, but we are resolving it, amicably, on our own, without protests. We are civilized." It makes me want to burst out laughing. Where do these comments come from?

Or when I'm buying airtime at the closest "shack" where a woman provides me with some of the best service I've ever received and then, gives me a pack of gum on the house just to top things off. I'm floored.

Or the countless times my neighbor kids surprise me with their respect, maturity, and selfless acts that make my life easier.

You realize just how similar we all are as human beings. And all those preconceived associations we have in our heads about different people, different cultures, different values, melts away. You are able to identify with those half a world away from you. And you know that every living thing in this world deserves dignity and a decent life. That each life is significant and suffering universal, yet each person's suffering is unique and present to them only. The triumph is the good that breaks through and persists without retreat.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

What's Going On At Site

The highlights:

- I organized another malaria day at site to sensitize my community on prevention and treatment, we sold 125 mosquito nets at 3,000 shillings a piece, that about a $1.25! Pictures to follow later.

- I've given two out of three final exams to my students. Writing S4 final mock exam. Grading papers for over 200 students is not such a fun task.

- In the process of procuring electronic equipment for my school to organize a "movie night" so students, most of whom, have not seen a computer or hollywood film before.

- Our school is getting a computer lab. I hope to begin teaching ICT next term. If things get organized in time.

- The application process for law schools has kicked off! Let the scrutinizing begin!

The Root of Money

Nothing new or original here. I just read this book in country and absolutely loved it. Having lived in Uganda for the past 18 months and seen of the effects of "moochers" and "looters", I can appreciate everything this passage represents. I hope you enjoy reading it.

http://www.working-minds.com/money.htm

Where A Kid Can't Be A Kid


In Uganda, kids are raised a little differently. They are shouldered with much more responsibility much earlier in life and given very little in the form of nurturing and comfort. This leads to kids that are more autonomous and arguably stronger than our spoiled, over-stimulated, over-sensitized children.


The kids that live next door to me are ages 14, 11, 10, 7 and 5. They live with their parents. The home they are living in now is not their ancestral home. It is simply the home they live in because their father works at the school. Their mother lives back at their ancestral home where she manages the farm and other income generating projects. So the father lives with the five kids in this secondary home. For about the past 10 consecutive weeks, the father leaves Thursday evening for his ancestral home to do some sort of work and returns back to the school on Tuesday evening.


There are few things I take note of when this occurs. First, the father just blatently abandons his job for three out of five days of the workweek. This is pretty common at my school. Probably because my head teacher doesn't enforce almost any of the arsenal of policies he has at his disposal. The second thing that I note, is that the kids are left alone for a good 4.5 days each week. What do they do when their father is gone? Everything!


They dig in the garden. They harvest their own food. They collect their own water. They cook their own food. They cook amazing meals for me. I'm so thankful I have them. They bathe themselves everyday. They manage their own bedtimes. A few weeks ago I asked the kids if they wanted to watch a movie that night. The response from the eldest siblings literally was, "These are school days. We cannot." Meaning he refused because he knew they needed their sleep for the school the next day. I was shocked. What kind of kid in America would respond in such a manner?


They manage others bedtimes! When a neighbor boy who stays with the family showed up late one night, they refused to let him in for over two hours. The boy sat outside crying. I asked the kids why they didn't let him in for so long, they said because he was late and they had already locked the door. The boy cried a lot, but I bet he learned his lesson.


The work out their conflicts on their own. With no parents to comfort and console them, the affected siblings sit and cry, sometimes for over an hour at a time. They cry until they get tired of crying.


Even when the father is there, they work it out themselves. Last night at dinner, the seven year old daughter burned her wrist on the wood fire they use for cooking. She started crying. The father came out and asked what was wrong. The kids told them what had happened. He stood there for about five seconds, and then walked back inside the house. The daughter continued to cry for about another 20 minutes and then she was silent.


Kids are treated differently. I mentioned last night at dinner. I was having dinner with kids outside. The father never eats with his own children. He eats inside, by himself. This is pretty customary in Uganda. Many times in a household, the children and wife eat at the floor while the husband sits alone at the table. In more progressive families, the wife will eat with the husband at the table. Even in my home stay back in training, all the children at on the floor, the table was reserved for me and the mother (the father was deceased). I'm sure if he were alive he'd have been at the table, and possibly not the wife. Kids are served the least amount of food. The man of the house gets the most. As a kid, the bigger you are the more food you get. The smallest gets almost nothing.


Kids are runners. Meaning they run errands. For who? Well, for anyone who is not a kid. I take advantage of this situation daily. I have my kids go and get me things in the village or go buy food for dinner. It makes me feel lazy, but I have to admit, I like the practice. And my kids are happy to do it. For them most of the time it means they will get some sort of reward from me out of it.


Given the situation that they have been given, the kids are incredibly humble and well behaved. I continue to be impressed by their humility, respect, and discipline. And find myself paralleling what a similar situation in America would yield.


One of the reasons I believe the kids are so disciplined, is because their very survival depends on it. As a poor, rural Ugandan, there are certain things you have to do everyday. Otherwise, you don't eat, or you don't sleep, or you get sick, or you run out of money, etc. There is no social safety net. No one and no thing to fall back on. It is one man for himself, or in this case, five kids.



Dear Donors

When I walk down the street in Uganda, most times, people ask me for money. Imagine being in a large city and being approached by a bum just about every time you go anywhere. Now imagine a society where many people think you should give the money, because, after all, you have it, and that guy doesn't! This is a pretty accurate picture of poor Uganda.


I'm not saying this particular situation is wrong in an absolute sense. After all, what is right and wrong? These terms are relative, ever changing in the views of society.


This is simply the culture. In Uganda, poverty is widespread. If someone has a problem, it is customary for them to ask their friend for money. And Ugandan culture encourages fellow Ugandans to give to those in need. The problem evolves when white people enter the picture, and everyone assumes you have a lot of money. I don't.


Why do they ask for money? Because they assume we have a lot of it. Why? Because we are white. And white people usually come from rich nations. Rich nations with big houses. With big cars. With big airplanes. And flat screens. And everything else that we don't really need. Everything that a poor Ugandan thinks he wants. Thinks will make him happy. Thinks will make his life easier. And some of it will to a certain extent.


So maybe they are right, to a certain extent. We do possess relative wealth compare to our host country nationals. But last time I checked, Peace Corps volunteers aren't topping the list of America's most wealthy individuals. Most of us are pretty broke, right out of college, making less than $250 a month.


Another reason they ask for a lot of money? Because they genuinely believe we will just reach into our pockets, pull out a 50,000 shilling note, and place it in their hands. Why? Because A LOT of white people do! In fact, there is a whole business dedicated to driving around in SUVs and handing out money to poor people. You see it a lot living here.


I'm of the firm belief that all aid given in the form of money should be given with the objective of reducing and/or eliminating the need to provide future aid to that individual or nation. Basically, the goal of aid should be to stop aid. The goal of a donor organization should be to put itself out of business. I realize this is a contradiction to those wishing to remain with a purpose and/or job in this field.


And I want to carve out several caveats. I believe in relief aid. I believe in humanitarian aid. Aid given during emergencies involving the difference between human beings surviving, and human beings dying. Which transitions me to my next exemption. I believe in aid designed to keep human beings living. Such as the aid that comes in the form of anti-retroviral drugs for those living with HIV/AIDS and drugs designed to treat malaria and other deadly diseases.


What I don't believe in is gifted aid. Something that encourages nothing and has no follow up. I've seen it do so much damage to this country. It poisons the mindsets of the poor host country nationals that us volunteers live amongst. Honestly, sometimes I get the feeling that my fellow villagers resent me simply for the fact that I don't give out money. I feel as if some of them see me as a selfish muzungu. I've never had a specific incidence where this was brought up. But I've talked to several other volunteers who have had terrible experiences from this instilled sense of dependency so common in Ugandans mindset.


Dependency is destructive. It eliminates all incentive for individuals to take ownership of their own destinies and produce. It destroys work ethic. It inhibits autonomy. It creates an unsustainable cycle of give and take. One side giving all and one side taking all. It isn't the way a society can function.


How do YOU, the reader, help? Research the organizations you are giving to. What do they do exactly? How do you know for sure? How do they disperse their funds? How do they ensure accountability? What is their end goal? Can people do this themselves? Why do they need this organization?


I'm of the opinion that there is way too much money flowing into this continent. And not enough being created by the continent itself. My opinion? It should be halved. Focusing first on the exceptions I pointed out above and then on aid designed to end all aid. With milestones and checks throughout the entire process.


Somewhere along the line we as a world made a decision that it was better to prop up unstable regimes instead of allowing them to slip into chaos and despair. I guess I have to agree with this. But the end result of this philosophy isn't pretty either. That doesn't mean there is no way to win. There is. And it starts at the ground level. It starts with a change in the way we think about giving. The philosophy and principles that determine when our money is released and when it is held. Right now, we are doing a disservice to everyone. But that can change.


If you're looking for a good place to start, check out KIVA, http://www.kiva.org/. Organizations like this I feel support the end goal of what we're trying to accomplish. Be the change! Namaste.

On Corruption

Case Study #1

I was recently informed that the Uganda Little League Baseball team won a big championship and did well enough to earn a trip to the United States for a couple of weeks to compete. Upon hearing this news, like most other American volunteers, I was happy. Then I learned that the United States had denied their visas because the players parent's had lied about their ages. See link below.


http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/31/sports/for-uganda-little-leaguers-exhilaration-and-then-heartbreak.html?emc=eta1


As I write this, I have not been able to read the article due to no internet connection. But my immediate response to the headline, which was all I could see, was pride. I was proud. Proud of the fact that I am from a country that catches this sort of thing. That says no to corruption. That says no to deceit. That tolerates nothing but what is fair and honest, or at least tries its hardest to.


Having lived in a country for the past 18 months where corruption and dishonesty are pervasive and devastating, I felt no remorse. I have seen firsthand the effects of bad government and dishonest people. How they impact ordinary people. How it damages the chances of honest citizens trying to progress through life's stages the "right way". How it hinders development. How it destroys lives and ends them. How it destroys hope and breeds complacency.


Allowing the Ugandan Little Leaguers to field a team that knowingly lied would set an awful precedent and only fuel the fire of destruction and disrespect for rule of law. If I feel sorry for anyone, it's for the kids. I despise the adults surrounding the team. I despise their decisions and the way they made the kids believe it was ok to lie. It was ok to do the wrong thing. And my faith in our system of justice and accountability was refreshed and reinforced.


Case Study #2

A few weeks ago, I wrote a requisition for some electronic equipment for my school. I wanted to buy some new equipment for our labs in the school. I wrote the requisition out for 500,000 Ugandan shillings. At a current exchange rate of 2,600 shillings per dollar, that is approximately $192.31. A few days after I wrote the requisition, the school bursar called me into his office and handed me 500,000 shillings in cold hard cash. "Ok, you can now buy what you want." He said.


I've been living in Uganda now for nearly 18 months. The United States Peace Corps pays me a living stipend of just over 600,000 shillings a month to pay for my basic needs while serving. Not that my standard of living comes anywhere close to the common man out in the village (they are much poorer), but I think it is fair to say I have been living poor.


I looked down at the 500,000 shillings the bursar placed in my hand. I put it in my backpack and walked back to my private office at the school. I took it out and looked at it again. But what you want he said. I thought to myself, this is nearly one month's salary for me. A lot of money, to me. I could probably take this money and keep it, and nothing would happen. The school would probably not say much of anything to me. I mean, the bursar is the only one who really knows I have it, and he is here maybe two days a week and cares very little, it at all, about what goes on outside his office.


For a few minutes, I experienced the dangerous and slippery feeling of temptation that comes from working in a system with no accountability. No system of checks to ensure transparency and deter bad behavior. Now I begin to imagine that I made about 50,000 shillings a month, instead of 600,000, which is more close to the common man's salary. How desperate would I be for this money? How much effort would it take for me to not eat it? What if I had no hope of ever making any more money than my 50,000 a month? No hope for a better job. What would I do? I'm pretty sure I would eat it.


The sad thing is. I honestly believe every single one of my colleagues at my school would eat it too, if given the opportunity. Sure, they sit around a table and complain about it all day in our staff room. But if given the chance to make a ton of money so easily, living in the poverty that they do, I think the would. And can you really blame them? Yes! You absolutely can. It's wrong. It's terrible. I hate it. But it's a product of poverty. Take away the need for more money is half the battle. But that only comes from a government without corruption, one willing to give good people what they really want. It's a vicious and depressing cycle.


Of course, I didn't eat the money. But I got a sense of what it felt like to be in that situation. To be able. Able to deceive. Able to steal. With no repercussions. Now multiply the money by millions and the people by thousands. Money from donor nations and global support organizations. People from some of the poorest villages in the world, elected and trusted overnight at the flick of a voter's pen. Spread it out across an entire nation. Do you get a sense of how it could hinder? I did. And I hated it. This is why development is still just development.