The Struggle to Stay Smart

"Sometimes I feel dumber here."

This is a quote that I occasionally hear from other volunteers in country, especially those that have been here awhile. Usually they are reflecting on how they think they have changed since joining the Peace Corps and traveling halfway across the world... to a different world.

I can relate. There are times where I feel like my brain has slowed down. When I think about it more, it makes sense. In our villages, our lives are simple. Our interactions with most people are basic and short.

It's been an important priority for me to come up with ways to stay mentally challenged at site. Teaching math and physics helps, sort of. Mostly I'm just refreshing and rehashing concepts I learned years ago in high school and undergrad. I can have detailed, in-depth conversations with one or two people in my community. That also helps. I read magazines and books that I can get my hands on and try to keep up with volunteers via email and phone. That helps too. In Peace Corps, there is a lot of time for introspection and reflection.

I sometimes feel like I'm stuck in some philosophical maze trying to navigate which path is objectively correct. You question your personal reasons and motives for doing what you are doing. That is probably a good thing though. It means we are still thinking critically about our words, decisions, and actions. However often times it offers little comfort. Just more questioning.

Is Development a Good Thing?

Is development a good thing? This is a question that I and many other volunteers find ourselves asking quite often after a year in Peace Corps. It's the same question my dad brought up during his first few days in Africa when he came to see me recently. He has helped me formulate my thoughts to the answer to this question.

Allow me to shrink the scope of the question down substantially. Is development a good thing for Uganda?

I look around Uganda and I see a lot of good things. I see a thriving culture of business and entrepreneurship. Yes, all the shops are selling the same things. Yes, almost all of it is imported. Yes, innovation is almost non-existent. However, Ugandans still possess a energetic spirit for commerce and free trade.

I see hundreds of square miles of verdant and fruitful landscape. I see almost all Ugandans taking ownership of that land and using it independently to produce their own food each year. If there ever was an economic collapse in Uganda, they would still be able to eat because of how self-sufficent they are.

I see a cash economy. One that functions solely by the exchange of hard currency for valued products (though credit cards are becoming more common in Kampala). When you work, you get cash. If you don't have the cash, you don't buy the item. If you do, you do. Simple as that. This is a stark difference in our credit crazy consumer culture of the United States.

I see a culture of self healing and self dependency when it comes to sickness. Only if you are close to death do you go to the hospital. For the most part, you will recover some other way, somehow. The natural way.

Is this status quo optimal? In my opinion, no. Is it terrible? In my opinion, no. For all its faults at the national level, Uganda is not a bad place to live. The people have food, they have some degree of freedom, they have amazing weather, and they have peace.

Would it be better if Uganda had a thriving manufacturing sector that created jobs? Yes. Would it be better if Ugandan could innovate and come up with Ugandan solutions and come up with marketable solutions? Absolutely.

Would industrialization of its agricultural practices be a good thing? Maybe. Maybe not. Look at what happened to small farmers in the United States during the mass commercialization of agricultural products. There aren't many of them around any more.

Credit cards in Uganda? I don't think the country is ready for them. Nor am I sure they are a good thing in general. But they will come regardless.

Improvements in public health? This is something I think we can all agree on is definitely a good and valuable result of development. I hear so many stories of people suffering and dying of preventable and/or curable ailments.

So I think development is a good thing, overall, with some caveats. Let Uganda develop on its own. Let it develop in its own style. And let it be slow but steady development. Right now, most Ugandans have cell phones but they don't have reliable electricity. That is backwards. Let Uganda first tackle the fundamentals (education, water, jobs, health), then move on to the less substantial peripheral items.

Is development fueled by outside assistance from other countries a good thing? ....in Uganda. At the Kamuge High School level, I think it is, at least I hope so. At the 50,000 foot level, I'm not so sure.

World Malaria Day

April 25th was World Malaria Day. On April 26th, I invited Soft Power (an NGO based in Jinja) to come out and do a demonstration in my village.

It was great. The team came out and gave a really good presentation on the causes of malaria, how to prevent it, now to treat it, and how to properly use a mosquito net. Afterwards we sold mosquito nets to the villagers at a heavily reduced price of 3,000 shillings (about $1.25). It was a great success, villagers were eager to buy the nets and bring them home to their extended family members or even themselves. Many would otherwise have to travel long distances to get the nets at a reduced price, incurring unnecessary transport costs.

Pictures of Event

At the Bottom of Everything (the continent that is)

Traveling is always a unique experience. Each journey has its own adventures, its own pace, its own tone. Each of these are highly determined by the place you visit and the people you decide to visit it with. South Africa was no different. It was also an incredible experience.

During our few days spent in the most southern and most developed country on the continent, we met great people, tasted great food, swam in two oceans and under one waterfall, hiked several coastal trails, drove stick on the left side of the road, ate fresh fruit everyday, climbed a table-like mountain, tasted dozens of wines, drank at a whisky bar, paddled a canoe and pulled a pontoon across a river, and got acquainted with the two sides of the South African healthcare system (more on this later)

We stayed with locals we met through the popular website couchsurfing.org. This reference did not disappoint. Every host we stayed with was incredibly warm, friendly, welcoming and helpful.

Our first night we stayed with this really impressive and dynamic young guy named Johan. He prepared a traditional South African dish for us. He invited four of his closest friends over and we shared a peaceful evening together drinking wine and partaking in the cultural exchange that so often dominates the travel experience.

They shared with us that, as South Africans, it's very difficult for them to travel outside their country. Because their passport says "South Africa" on it. Because South Africa's border patrol is so poor. Countries scrutinize their reasons and intentions for leaving the country. "You guys have really pinned the lottery." One of them says as they comment on our "worth its weight in gold" USA passport.

Talking with our new friends, they begin telling us about where they were from and their upbringing. What it was like to grow up in rural South Africa. This seemed so strange to me, talking to white people much like myself that were born and raised in the sticks of the African countryside. It was amazing to see, even with so much distance between us, how similar we were as people.

The next day, while driving around the Cape Town area coastline, my travel mates and I started questioning what it was we truly enjoyed about the travel experience. Yeah, we were in South Africa. But why were we here? And what were we hoping to get out of it. We all agreed that we didn't want to check off the boxes of all the typical tourist attractions. For me, a good experience is often times elusive or unpredictable, but when it comes, you know it, and you soak it in while it lasts.

For this trip, it was our first dinner with our friends, learning about the country directly from them. It was learning to drive in a foreign country. It was teaching John and Renee to drive a stick shift (both had never done it) in a foreign country. It was running the trail at Robburg Peninsula only to discover one of the most beautiful and secluded beaches in the country. Almost getting blown off the top of the cliffs by the strong sea gusts. It was enjoying good seafood and sushi for the first time in a long time. It was taking in the luxury of well stocked and well managed supermarkets, eating and preparing fresh food everyday. It was getting to know the painful history of the country from staying with a host who was discriminated against for much of his life. And sharing a few braais (South Africa's version of BBQs) with him and his friends. In the end it boils down to what moves you inside, and that can come in unexpected ways at unpredictable times.

Pictures from SA

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.