If there is one thing that life in Uganda gives your plenty of, it's 'time to think'. I've been taking advantage of that, and I am starting to think that the best way to enjoy life is by looking forward to the little things that you like to do throughout the day. Maybe it's just having a fresh cup of coffee in the morning before the day begins. Maybe it's listening to a song that always puts you in a good mood on the ride to work. Or finishing the sudoku out of the newspaper. Or laying in the sun for a little while to soak in the warmth. Or sitting down with your family to watch TV together.
One of the reasons so many people are unhappy with their daily lives is because they don't set up their days to include these simple little things. Honestly, taking the time to enjoy the simple things around here has been one of the most rewarding parts of life here so far.
On a more serious note: Can someone enlighten me on how the Packers lost to the Bears?
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Progress
One of the hardest things to cope with here in Uganda is the pace at which things are done. Meetings usually start about an hour after they are supposed to. Getting places is a always a process and always involves a lot of walking. Everyone just seems to move in slow-motion. In a country where time is almost never of the essence, it is difficult to stay motivated and on task.
For Americans, making a schedule and sticking to it is a skill that has been ingrained in all of us since we were little. School starts at 8:30 a.m. SHARP. Each subject is given a time slot, and the next subject always begins precisely afterward. Lunch and recess are always at the same times, and the school buses leave at precisely 3:30 p.m. Swimming lessons are at 6:00 p.m. on Tuesdays, and piano lessons are at 7:15 p.m. on Wednesdays. Soccer practice is every Saturday morning at 10:30 a.m.
For Ugandans, schedules are more like guidelines. It's okay if you show up a half hour late for soccer training, because everyone else is still just getting there, too. It's okay if you didn't get a chance to go over the plans for the next Youth Center Workshop; there's always tomorrow. Even in school, if a teacher is still finishing a lecture for p. 7 (equivalent of 7th grade), p. 6 will just have to wait for him to finish before he can come teach their class. Even the governmental and administrative processes here seems to be filled with tedious busywork that could be made shorter for the sake of efficiency.
Coming from a society where time waits for no one, it's obviously how this gets frustrating. However, Courtney, Heather and I have been slowing coming to terms with the pace of progress here. Our adviser and the founder of Soccer Without Borders, Ben Gucciardi, probably put it best by saying "For every 1 step forward, it's a 3/4 step back in Ndejje." So, we have had to focus on just getting maybe one or two things done per day. Somehow though, just completely one task a day feels like a great accomplishment here. The past four days we have all set out to accomplish one thing each day, and we have made incredible progress: our best soccer training session yet, introduction letters for the Youth Center to local schools completed, youth center sign completed. The only thing we can do is keep looking for the next task and focusing on each one individually.
For Americans, making a schedule and sticking to it is a skill that has been ingrained in all of us since we were little. School starts at 8:30 a.m. SHARP. Each subject is given a time slot, and the next subject always begins precisely afterward. Lunch and recess are always at the same times, and the school buses leave at precisely 3:30 p.m. Swimming lessons are at 6:00 p.m. on Tuesdays, and piano lessons are at 7:15 p.m. on Wednesdays. Soccer practice is every Saturday morning at 10:30 a.m.
For Ugandans, schedules are more like guidelines. It's okay if you show up a half hour late for soccer training, because everyone else is still just getting there, too. It's okay if you didn't get a chance to go over the plans for the next Youth Center Workshop; there's always tomorrow. Even in school, if a teacher is still finishing a lecture for p. 7 (equivalent of 7th grade), p. 6 will just have to wait for him to finish before he can come teach their class. Even the governmental and administrative processes here seems to be filled with tedious busywork that could be made shorter for the sake of efficiency.
Coming from a society where time waits for no one, it's obviously how this gets frustrating. However, Courtney, Heather and I have been slowing coming to terms with the pace of progress here. Our adviser and the founder of Soccer Without Borders, Ben Gucciardi, probably put it best by saying "For every 1 step forward, it's a 3/4 step back in Ndejje." So, we have had to focus on just getting maybe one or two things done per day. Somehow though, just completely one task a day feels like a great accomplishment here. The past four days we have all set out to accomplish one thing each day, and we have made incredible progress: our best soccer training session yet, introduction letters for the Youth Center to local schools completed, youth center sign completed. The only thing we can do is keep looking for the next task and focusing on each one individually.
Monday, September 13, 2010
BEST. IDD. EVER.
*Originally written on 9/10*
It's one thing to have a cultural experience when you are planning on having it. It's something completely different when you get blindsided by getting thrown into a full-on, straight-out-of-Africa situation. All I was planning on doing today was having a normal day, maybe making some rice to have for lunch with the avocado I had bought earlier in the morning. Next thing I know, I'm in my Sunday Best trekking up the hill with two local girls to celebrate Idd with their family. All I know about Idd at this point is that it marks the end of Ramadan and it means that people are going to eat a lot -- didn't take much convincing to get me to join.
After a short walk, we got to a turn in the path that led between two houses. The two local girls, who basically befriended us by force, are Nadia and Hadia, and they live in one of the two houses with their mother, Sarah. The house just a few feet away belongs to their aunt. We had pretty much walked into the middle of their kitchen while the feast-in-the-works was spread out between the two cement porches facing each other. There was music coming out of one of the houses which can only be described as a Muslim male choir droning on in Arabic with incessant tribal drum accompaniment. Their larger-that-life, very outspoken mother warmly greeted us and told one of the girls to get a mat for us to sit on. Their aunt took time out from defeathering the dinner turkey to shake hands with us, politely offering the back of her wrist so that we didn't have to touch the hand still covered in feathers. Then, sodas were brought out for the guests. Courtney was made to pour mine into a glass for me, because "a man must never serve themselves!" Unfortunately, I don't think I will be getting that service back home...
Then, The craziness ensued. Courtney and Heather made the mistake of taking out their cameras, which is the universal sign in Uganda that it's time to take pictures of everyone/everything -- Nadia, Hadia, Nadia AND Hadia, the two of them with their little brothers and baby sister, all of them with Courtney, all of them with Heather, all of them with me, all of us, just the mzungus -- every possible combination. And of course, they need to run to show their mother each picture immediately after it was taken. So while Heather is busy having a nervous breakdown about her $400 camera being waved around by two pre-teen Ugandan girls, I'm entranced by their mother who is now gutting the turkey and rinsing the remaining blood from the carcass. Also, one of the little brothers has discovered the unusual amount of hair on my arms (by Ugandan standards at least) and is running his fingers through it. Courtney has become the caretaker of the baby sister, clothed in only a jean skirt that has spent more around her ankles than her hips and a string of beads around her waist which is intended to help baby girls grow hips apparently.
Then, Nadia and Hadia started with the synchronized dancing, which they started from on their knees and gradually worked their way to their feet. Their baby sister mimicked them in the foreground. The dance performance was broken up for a juice break, which ended in the sugar being spilled all over the porch. The kids tried to lick up whatever sugar couldn't be scooped back into the container, but it was two late. The baby sister was already covered from head to toe in sugar crystals, so she had a bath right there.
Soon, their uncle and his wife came, and just in time for the food. Lunch consisted of pilau (rice pilaf), Irish potatoes with tomato and onion, and slow roasted beef. I was served first, me being the man, and their aunt knelt down before us as she brought us our plates. The stray cats started to show up for scraps as we ate. The baby sister was covered in good again, so she had a second bath. Afterward, she proceeded to squat and relieve herself right in front of us, for which she was praised since she didn't do it in the house.
There was a point in the chaos where I took a second to look around, to feel the moment. To think, this is how this family lives, day in day out, year after year. It's hard to believe that I'm actually here to witness it, to be a part of it. I don't want a single moment like this to slip by, and I always want to remember, This Is Africa.
IDD ILFITRI
It's one thing to have a cultural experience when you are planning on having it. It's something completely different when you get blindsided by getting thrown into a full-on, straight-out-of-Africa situation. All I was planning on doing today was having a normal day, maybe making some rice to have for lunch with the avocado I had bought earlier in the morning. Next thing I know, I'm in my Sunday Best trekking up the hill with two local girls to celebrate Idd with their family. All I know about Idd at this point is that it marks the end of Ramadan and it means that people are going to eat a lot -- didn't take much convincing to get me to join.
After a short walk, we got to a turn in the path that led between two houses. The two local girls, who basically befriended us by force, are Nadia and Hadia, and they live in one of the two houses with their mother, Sarah. The house just a few feet away belongs to their aunt. We had pretty much walked into the middle of their kitchen while the feast-in-the-works was spread out between the two cement porches facing each other. There was music coming out of one of the houses which can only be described as a Muslim male choir droning on in Arabic with incessant tribal drum accompaniment. Their larger-that-life, very outspoken mother warmly greeted us and told one of the girls to get a mat for us to sit on. Their aunt took time out from defeathering the dinner turkey to shake hands with us, politely offering the back of her wrist so that we didn't have to touch the hand still covered in feathers. Then, sodas were brought out for the guests. Courtney was made to pour mine into a glass for me, because "a man must never serve themselves!" Unfortunately, I don't think I will be getting that service back home...
Then, The craziness ensued. Courtney and Heather made the mistake of taking out their cameras, which is the universal sign in Uganda that it's time to take pictures of everyone/everything -- Nadia, Hadia, Nadia AND Hadia, the two of them with their little brothers and baby sister, all of them with Courtney, all of them with Heather, all of them with me, all of us, just the mzungus -- every possible combination. And of course, they need to run to show their mother each picture immediately after it was taken. So while Heather is busy having a nervous breakdown about her $400 camera being waved around by two pre-teen Ugandan girls, I'm entranced by their mother who is now gutting the turkey and rinsing the remaining blood from the carcass. Also, one of the little brothers has discovered the unusual amount of hair on my arms (by Ugandan standards at least) and is running his fingers through it. Courtney has become the caretaker of the baby sister, clothed in only a jean skirt that has spent more around her ankles than her hips and a string of beads around her waist which is intended to help baby girls grow hips apparently.
Then, Nadia and Hadia started with the synchronized dancing, which they started from on their knees and gradually worked their way to their feet. Their baby sister mimicked them in the foreground. The dance performance was broken up for a juice break, which ended in the sugar being spilled all over the porch. The kids tried to lick up whatever sugar couldn't be scooped back into the container, but it was two late. The baby sister was already covered from head to toe in sugar crystals, so she had a bath right there.
Soon, their uncle and his wife came, and just in time for the food. Lunch consisted of pilau (rice pilaf), Irish potatoes with tomato and onion, and slow roasted beef. I was served first, me being the man, and their aunt knelt down before us as she brought us our plates. The stray cats started to show up for scraps as we ate. The baby sister was covered in good again, so she had a second bath. Afterward, she proceeded to squat and relieve herself right in front of us, for which she was praised since she didn't do it in the house.
There was a point in the chaos where I took a second to look around, to feel the moment. To think, this is how this family lives, day in day out, year after year. It's hard to believe that I'm actually here to witness it, to be a part of it. I don't want a single moment like this to slip by, and I always want to remember, This Is Africa.
IDD ILFITRI
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
The Big Stage
This Saturday, I went to the Ugandan National soccer game against Angola, a 2012 African Cup of Nations qualifying match. The journey there alone was incredible. I was going with my friend, Michael Bolton, an Aussie who I had met in Jinga earlier in the week. Of course, we were running late, so we decided to meet Courtney and Heather at the game rather than meet up with them in town. I was also running low on cash and already owed Michael Bolton 20,000 shillings from the night before (~$10), so we opted to split a boda there. Michael Bolton also happens to be 6'8", so just try and picture me and him crammed together behind the boda driver. There was tons of traffic heading towards the game, so we were weaving in and out of stopped traffic the whole ride. To top it all off, it started to rain just as we were starting to make good time. Although it was a ride of a lifetime, I could have done without the sting of rain drops hitting me in the face at 60 mph.
When we got to the game, we had to sample the tailgate fare -- grilled goat on a stick. Apparently, anyone is able to set up shop and starting selling whatever they feel like. We hurried into the stands and could hear the celebrations from the first Ugandan goal as we were halfway up the steps. The atmosphere at the game felt like the biggest backyard soccer match in history. The fans were a ragtag bunch, spilling over the railings in every direction. The bleachers consisted of over-sized cement steps, and seating was first come, first serve -- forget row letters and seat numbers. All the food vendors were private vendors selling chapatti (flat-bread), goat kabobs, or grilled corn (that actually tastes like popcorn). The crowd was easily the greatest part of the game. They never missed a second -- every completed pass, every good look, every cheeky dribble -- they cheered for everything, just like they would on the playground. Uganda ended up winning 3-nil what was a fairly sloppy game due to the rain. Nonetheless, all of Kampala erupted after the victory. Every taxi and truck on the streets were packed with celebrating fans blowing vuvuzelas. It was a good win for Uganda also, because Angola was definitely the favorite to win their group. It's pretty obvious by looking at this experience how important the sport of soccer is to this country, which is encouraging. What better tool for social change than a passion that can unite so many cultures in such a short period of time?
When we got to the game, we had to sample the tailgate fare -- grilled goat on a stick. Apparently, anyone is able to set up shop and starting selling whatever they feel like. We hurried into the stands and could hear the celebrations from the first Ugandan goal as we were halfway up the steps. The atmosphere at the game felt like the biggest backyard soccer match in history. The fans were a ragtag bunch, spilling over the railings in every direction. The bleachers consisted of over-sized cement steps, and seating was first come, first serve -- forget row letters and seat numbers. All the food vendors were private vendors selling chapatti (flat-bread), goat kabobs, or grilled corn (that actually tastes like popcorn). The crowd was easily the greatest part of the game. They never missed a second -- every completed pass, every good look, every cheeky dribble -- they cheered for everything, just like they would on the playground. Uganda ended up winning 3-nil what was a fairly sloppy game due to the rain. Nonetheless, all of Kampala erupted after the victory. Every taxi and truck on the streets were packed with celebrating fans blowing vuvuzelas. It was a good win for Uganda also, because Angola was definitely the favorite to win their group. It's pretty obvious by looking at this experience how important the sport of soccer is to this country, which is encouraging. What better tool for social change than a passion that can unite so many cultures in such a short period of time?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
To Jinja and Back Again
This week has been pretty eventful. It started Sunday morning when Courtney, Heather, and I set out for Jinja, a town east of Kampala where the true source of the Nile is located (apparently multiple countries claim to have the source of the Nile). The taxi ride there was only 2000 shillings, so less than $1, and took about 2 hours. Other than being cramped in the taxi van that was originally designed 20+ years ago to transport Japanese businessmen, it was a pretty decent ride thanks to the view of the countryside we got from the road. Miles of green hills followed by miles of ancient rainforest. Unfortunately, most of the rainforests in Uganda have already been cleared for timber oftentimes replaced by cheap pine trees for paper.
The taxi dropped us in the middle of Jinja, from where we had to navigate our way to the hostel we were going to stay at. Conveniently, the hostel also offered whitewater rafting on the Nile, so we couldn't pass it up. We booked a guided trip for Monday and decided to use the rest of the day to explore Jinja. First stop was to walk over the first Nile dam and get a look at the river. No pictures allowed of the dam, however. There are military guards stationed along the dam with AK-47's making sure of it. Apparently, they are working off an old rule set in place to prevent spies from learning about their infrastructure. I guess they haven't quite gotten the memo on Google Earth yet...
After walking for hours and asking for directions from multiple people, we were about to find a great little bar/restaurant. At first, it didn't look like much, but when you went down the stairs beyond the bar, there was an awesome little clearing right on the bank of the Nile with little bungalows. I opted for a liquid lunch, a Castle Milk Stout, the Ugandan version of Guiness. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful: finished our self-guided tour of Jinja, had the first beef I've eaten since leaving Wisconsin, watched some English Premier League soccer, Chatted with a backpacker from Denmark, went to sleep in the dorm. The following day was the big show.
We got out in the raft by 10 am. After a crash course on rafting, focusing heavily on what to do (not IF, but) when we fall out of the raft, we were off. Before I knew it, we were in Grade 5 rapids. All in all, our boat flipped 4 times, but falling out was probably more fun than staying in. The most impressive rapid we hit was a 15 foot waterfall. Since the raft was only 14 feet, we were completely vertical at one point, and I loved every minute of it from the front of the raft. At the end of the trip, we were able to get a glimpse of a Grade 6 rapid. The difference between Grade 5 and Grade 6 is pretty substantial. I could even imagine trying to go down the 6.
From the end of the trip, we were picked up by a big safari truck and brought back to Bujugali Falls, the first Grade 5 that we went over and where our camp would be for the night. That ride back was the hardest experience I've gone through on my trip so far. The towns we drove through weren't anything special. The same dirt roads lined with brick buildings and vendor shacks made from sticks. The same chickens and cows, bicycles and bodas, naked babies playing in the dirt and old men talking on porches. But it was completely different. I was viewing it from the outside now, up from my elevated seat in the safari truck. It felt like they were on display for me, that their lives were meant to entertain me. For the first time, I felt like I was part of the dreaded "T" word; I was a Tourist. And that's not why I'm here. I want to EXPERIENCE their culture, be a part of it, not put it under a magnifying glass. It's amazing how quickly you can go from feeling the most exhilaration in your life to feeling sick to your stomach by how your culture can completely demean other and have absolutely no qualms with it.
The taxi dropped us in the middle of Jinja, from where we had to navigate our way to the hostel we were going to stay at. Conveniently, the hostel also offered whitewater rafting on the Nile, so we couldn't pass it up. We booked a guided trip for Monday and decided to use the rest of the day to explore Jinja. First stop was to walk over the first Nile dam and get a look at the river. No pictures allowed of the dam, however. There are military guards stationed along the dam with AK-47's making sure of it. Apparently, they are working off an old rule set in place to prevent spies from learning about their infrastructure. I guess they haven't quite gotten the memo on Google Earth yet...
After walking for hours and asking for directions from multiple people, we were about to find a great little bar/restaurant. At first, it didn't look like much, but when you went down the stairs beyond the bar, there was an awesome little clearing right on the bank of the Nile with little bungalows. I opted for a liquid lunch, a Castle Milk Stout, the Ugandan version of Guiness. The rest of the day was pretty uneventful: finished our self-guided tour of Jinja, had the first beef I've eaten since leaving Wisconsin, watched some English Premier League soccer, Chatted with a backpacker from Denmark, went to sleep in the dorm. The following day was the big show.
We got out in the raft by 10 am. After a crash course on rafting, focusing heavily on what to do (not IF, but) when we fall out of the raft, we were off. Before I knew it, we were in Grade 5 rapids. All in all, our boat flipped 4 times, but falling out was probably more fun than staying in. The most impressive rapid we hit was a 15 foot waterfall. Since the raft was only 14 feet, we were completely vertical at one point, and I loved every minute of it from the front of the raft. At the end of the trip, we were able to get a glimpse of a Grade 6 rapid. The difference between Grade 5 and Grade 6 is pretty substantial. I could even imagine trying to go down the 6.
From the end of the trip, we were picked up by a big safari truck and brought back to Bujugali Falls, the first Grade 5 that we went over and where our camp would be for the night. That ride back was the hardest experience I've gone through on my trip so far. The towns we drove through weren't anything special. The same dirt roads lined with brick buildings and vendor shacks made from sticks. The same chickens and cows, bicycles and bodas, naked babies playing in the dirt and old men talking on porches. But it was completely different. I was viewing it from the outside now, up from my elevated seat in the safari truck. It felt like they were on display for me, that their lives were meant to entertain me. For the first time, I felt like I was part of the dreaded "T" word; I was a Tourist. And that's not why I'm here. I want to EXPERIENCE their culture, be a part of it, not put it under a magnifying glass. It's amazing how quickly you can go from feeling the most exhilaration in your life to feeling sick to your stomach by how your culture can completely demean other and have absolutely no qualms with it.
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