Not So Notable Occasions

Now that I have settled into a routine, things are much more monotonous here in Lira.  However, since I know many of you (namely my mother) are anxiously awaiting every inane detail – I figured I would outline a few of the more “notable” moments of the past few days:

• Last week, our usual driver was busy and unable to pick us up.  Dolly, one of the school staff, suggested we hire a boda to take us home.  Normally this is not a concern; we have actually become boda masters in our short time here.  However, this trek is about 30-40 minutes down a long unpaved road.  Hello, dirt facial.  Plus, I was stuck carrying two large pieces of sugar cane with Dolly had given to us earlier.
  
  But off we went, with the sugar cane sticking out to the side, clothes lining people at will.  Things were going along swimmingly, when all of a sudden we see a truck swerve ferociously just about 30 yards ahead of us and then FLIP, making one complete roll before stopping on its side.  Miraculously in this culture without seatbelts, the driver emerged out the side window unscathed.  Our boda driver, either unfazed by the mayhem or under strict instructions to bring the two white girls home before dark, beeped anxiously at the crowd running forward and continued on his merry way.  The next morning the truck was gone, so I can only assume it was righted…and most likely limped off to its final destination.  Death averted by minutes.

• One celebrated morning last week, Augustine showed up unexpectedly with a large box -- a care package from Chelsea’s parents.  Tearing into the paper with baited breath….lo and behold, a box of snacks!  It has been raining heavily lately, leaving us with limited power but unlimited time for napping, so naturally we embarked upon an epic binge that rivals even the most opulent of Thanksgivings.
  
  Being the altruistic people that we are, we also shared some of the goodies with the children.  My personal favorite was a boy visiting from KEFRAMA, who upon receipt of a Hershey Kiss immediately put the whole thing – wrapper and all – into his mouth, extolling its deliciousness.  Dumbfounded, Chelsea tried to explain the concept of a “wrapper” to him…but between the melting from transit and his chewing, it was a lost cause.

• With the aforementioned rain, we have had even more down time than usual.  Being a voracious reader, this has led me to choosing books at whim from my well-stocked Kindle.  My most recent selection: a tragically mislabeled book that turned out to be a non-fiction account of Ebola’s origins and most destructive rampages.  Unfamiliar with Ebola?  Well basically, it an incurable and little understood virus that rots your body from the inside out, while you remain conscious.  And where did this villainous malady first appear?  Where else but Uganda!  Did I mention, right before I left I had the pleasure of attending an event with Vanessa Kerry where she addressed a recent outbreak in…you guessed it…Uganda.   Needless to say, I am now pretty sure I have Ebola and am dying.  To add to my hypochondria, Justin has also recently been diagnosed with malaria AGAIN.  Bring on DEET face…

• One shining achievement that falls under the “mundane undertakings” category:  this past weekend we made our first solo venture to Lira’s main market on the hunt for guacamole ingredients.  Chels’ parents had passed along tortilla chips, and we were determined to export this Mexican treat to Uganda…under the auspices of AMERICA of course.  We shopped like natives, haggling and navigating the winding maze of dirt trails between stalls like champions.  Better still - the food enthusiastically consumed.  Little Empeneza even referenced it the following morning.  Victory!

• A recent revelation from a friend back home:  the bed frames our thin foam mattresses rest on…were stolen from the children.  A fleeting glance into their bedroom confirmed this; they now sleep on the floor.  My only solace -- our pillows are large foam chunks stuffed into a bag.  This is likely the foam from old mattresses, presumably rendered “old” by the bed wetting habits of the young children.  I am calling this one even. And double bagging my pillow.

• At home, useless knowledge is readily available for the curious mind, just a few keystrokes away.  In Uganda, the curiosity remains but the burden of proof has vastly decreased.  “How long can hippos hold their breath?”  “A few minutes.  I think I saw something on Discovery about it once.  Maybe.”  Indisputable fact.|

•  Robbery, Murder, Trickery, Justice!   And it has nothing to do with us.  Augustine’s other job is at Samaritan’s Purse.  Their office in the capital of Kampala was robbed a few weeks ago, and the security guard was fatally shot.  Now, the office in Lira is under attack with odd phone calls and threatening messages.  Security was doubled, when a small girl showed up to randomly give the security guards juice...he recognized it was poisoned.  He laid low, pretending to be dead, until the would-be theives arrived.  At that point, he brandished his gun and held them down until the police arrived.  Anti-climactic end, but in this slow moving society this drama was akin to the birth of the Kanye-Kardashian child.

On Wednesday, we set out for Kampala and then off to Kibale National Park to do some chimp trekking.  Unfortunately, at that time I must also say good bye to Chelsea.  I have not come to terms with that yet and am pretending it is not happening.

So...Why Are You in Uganda?

This post is long overdue, but I wanted to finalize a few things first.

I am here working at a school for former child soldiers and war orphans called KEFRAMA College in Lira, a town in the Northern Province.  The school has reached capacity, and they are looking to expand into a new location.  That’s where I come in.  For those not who are not political science nerds like me, here’s the back story on Uganda:

In 1987, a lengthy and devastating war began in Uganda. The Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), a Christian fundamentalist militant group led by Joseph Kony, launched a full scale resistance movement against the central Ugandan government.  A self-proclaimed spokesperson of God, Kony felt the government had long been marginalizing the Acholi people – his tribal minority group in Uganda.  To fight his war, Kony captured  60,000-100,000 child soldiers.  His method of conscription:  frequent beatings, burning their villages in front of them, forcing children to murder their families, brainwashing and drugging them into oblivion. Girls were made “wives” to LRA leaders – which meant abducted and brutally raped -- leading to a massive outbreak of HIV/AIDS.

For two decades, war ravaged the country and the people.  Over 2 million were displaced and countless children were orphaned.    To this day, Kony has not been captured and he, along with other LRA leaders, remains wanted by the International Criminal Court for war crimes and crimes against humanity. Remember Invisible Children’s Kony 2012 campaign – yeah it’s that guy.

One of the hardest hit areas was Northern Uganda.  In Lira alone, international displacement camps housed nearly 350,000 people.  Conditions were destitute, with inadequate food and no sanitation facilities.  Disease ran rampant.  Children, traumatized from the war and seeing no hope of a better future, soon resorted to a life of crime and violence.  It was all they knew, and the only way to survive.

My host and the school’s co-founder, Augustine knows all too well the horrors of the LRA.  His family was displaced by LRA rebels for over five years, and he was nearly abducted himself while attending his aunt’s funeral.  He was lucky to escape.  After the war, Augustine began work as an HIV/AIDS educator in the displacement camps, where he met the school’s other co-founder, Mark. 

Opened in 2011, KEFRAMA College strives to provide affordable secondary (high school) education to these former child soldiers and other orphans from the war; children who would otherwise have nowhere to go.   In Uganda, the financial burden for education falls on the families and the cost is often prohibitive for this vulnerable group.  At KEFRAMA, fees are a fraction of the traditional schools (largely because the founders finance the school privately) but even still over 85% of students are on scholarship.  Without this, many would have dropped out or never attended in the first place – limiting their prospects for the future and impeding the pace of redevelopment in this war-ravaged country.

KEFRAMA Collge

One of the lucky classrooms with desks

 KEFRAMA College says its mission is to develop its students into “change makers” who can rebuild the country and improve the quality of life for future generations of Ugandans.  They strongly believe in teaching the children to be self-reliant, and take a holistic approach to education including psycho-social support, primary health care, and exposure to leadership development activities.  The students here speak earnestly and gratefully for the opportunity this school as given them.  KEFRAMA College has given this forgotten generation hope and the means for a better life.

The needs are stunning at this school, and only growing as more and more children seek refuge there.  Students sleep twenty-five or more to an approximately 12x20 room with only ten mattresses between them.  Food is a constant concern, with supplies guaranteed to run dry by the end of every term.  There are no books for the children and even paper for exams is scarce.  There is no electricity.

One of the Dorm Rooms

 By far the worst is the water.  Forget running water, this school does not even have its own well.  Instead, the children must walk ½ mile one way to a hand-pumped well and then return carrying water jugs weighing close to 30 lbs.  I couldn’t do it myself.  Worst of all, the pump is shared with the community of over 800 – resulting in long lines and even taunting and harassment of the children (“poor orphans!”).  Whenever the pump breaks, which it does frequently, the town passes the burden of repairs to the school under the assumption that is their additional use that has broken it.  Already lacking in funding, the school must spend valuable funds on repairs that could otherwise go to scholarships, food and materials.

A short line at the well

 The school is expanding and moving to a new location. To dig a well at the new site would cost 22 million Ugandan shillings – a staggering sum.  For us however, that translates to a mere $8,800.   A development professional at heart, I can’t help but ask that you consider supporting this project.  

Visit our RocketHub page here and see a video of the walk to the well: http://www.rockethub.com/projects/29588-urgent-need-for-well-for-orphans-in-northern-uganda-keframa-college

The children of KEFRAMA College are hopeful and dedicated to their education.  They speak with heartfelt gratitude for the opportunity KEFRAMA College has given them to continue their studies.  They dream of becoming engineers to build better roads or designing solar panels to provide electricity to their communities. 

By supporting KEFRAMA College, you are giving these children a future they otherwise would not have.  Your support of a new well will give this new generation of Ugandans the chance for a better life.  I hope you will consider making a gift today.

http://www.rockethub.com/projects/29588-urgent-need-for-well-for-orphans-in-northern-uganda-keframa-colleg

Venturing Out

With a heartfelt goodbye from Susan, we set out on first “solo” expedition to Murchison Falls National Park.  

The first leg of this voyage included travel to Gulu, a town to the west where we would be meeting up with our guide and a travel companion named Aaron.  Aaron is someone Ann connected me with – a nurse volunteering in a medical clinic she works with in Gulu for the next few months.  He had indicated an interest in traveling, and she put us in touch via email so we could explore together. 

We live in Lira.  To the North West is Gulu, and the large green area west of that is Murchison Falls.  Kampala is the capital, and beneath that is Entebbe where the airport is located.

The ride to Gulu takes about two hours.  We were scheduled to leave at 11, got in the car at 12, stopped to pick up a few random “friends” and their children, bought a few things from the market, and took a “short cut” down a pothole-laden dirt road.  This means we arrived in Gulu at about 3:30pm.  Welcome to Africa Time.

Aaron turned out to be a friendly, talkative, thirty-something from Portland.  After settling in at the guest house and gleefully noticing the shower heads, we set out on – what else – a food mission.   Aaron has been very busy at the clinic was unfamiliar with local restaurants, so we went to the place next door.  There were two options – fish or chicken.  I selected chicken, but was in fact presented with a fried rib cage of an unconfirmed small animal.

Gulu has a large international presence; it is where the Peace Corps, UN and many other NGOs are based.  This translates to readily available running water, coffee shops with wifi and recognizable grocery store items.  Despite similar appearances, these little amenities caused us to quickly realize how remote Lira is.  In fact, Aaron’s guidebook even described it as “on the road to nowhere.”

The next morning, we met our guide, James, and loaded into his 1970s shag wagon to set off for Murchison.  Literally, this multi-colored bad mama-jamma still had the curtain tracks around the windows and cigarette lighters in the back seats.  It was in this setting that I experienced my first rollex. 

This magnificent concoction is chapatti bread (basically fried pita) wrapped around eggs, onions, peppers and probably something else I was too busy wolfing down to notice.  Apparently these grease beasts are standard fare in Uganda and we have just been missing out.   Duly noted.

Murchison Falls National Park is in the north west part of Uganda, bordering Lake Albert and divided by the Victoria Nile.  It includes two fenced wildlife reserves – Karuma and Bugungo – but it is most famous for the actual Murchison Falls.  Apparently, this is a unique waterfall because the water is forced to squeeze through a very narrow gorge of only 25 feet wide.  Although the drop isn’t very steep (about 150 feet), the narrow passage way means a heavy flow of crashing water.  We took a drive and a short hike around the top of the falls the first day, and the second day took an boat cruise to the bottom.  Pro tip:  they are much more impressive from the top.  The only good thing about the boat ride was the abundance of hippos we saw, but that is only intriguing for about 15 minutes.  Not the full three hour round trip tour.

Murchison Falls
That's water splashing back up on the left.  That's how fast it is falling.

At the top of Muchison.  

The Victoria Nile actually splits, causing two different waterfalls that make up Murchison.

Hippos!  One of the most dangerous animals in Africa.

In addition to the Falls, we also did a couple of game drives in our beastly van.  You may think such a contraption would be ill-suited to the bumpy trails of a game park…and you would be right.  Our first day we spent much of the time standing through the sunroof, but quickly discovered the novelty of that did not warrant the resultant bruising.  Enormous credit is also due to our driver, Patrick.  It rained fairly steadily on Sunday, and he kept that van moving right along as we fishtailed back in forth in the mud.  Several times I thought we’d be stuck for sure, but he ran that thing like a champion rally car driver.

Patrick, me, Chelsea, James and Aaron.
You can see the tiniest corner of our pimp wagon too!

On the game drives, we saw an abundance of animals – giraffes. warthogs, water buffalo, elephants and a variety of antelope-like creatures, including one called the Kob.  They have an incredibly short memory; so short in fact that they frequently forget why they are running when a lion in chasing them.   Unfortunately, we did not see any lions.  A bit of a disappointment, but they have been fairly well poached from the area so we knew it wasn’t a guarantee. 

Water Buffalo

Kob

However, on our third day we stumbled into a hostage situation.  On our way out of the park, we encountered two large mature elephants and a cub eating just off the side of the road.  After paparazzing the shit out of them for awhile, we realized that James and Patrick were less thrilled.  Patrick was revving the engine like nuts while James was clapping his hands and shouting.  Apparently, with the cub present it was too risky to try to pass them down the road.

These elephants did not give one single care about our existence.  They went right along eating, meandering in our direction and generally holding us captive.  We backed up several hundred yards and waited nearly 45 minutes before they finally decided to chase after a water buffalo that was infringing on their territory.  Rather rude if you ask me…

Elephant Delay

(Pause for a fun elephant fact:  there are things called sausage trees in Africa.  The fruit that hangs down from them is a favorite of elephants, but also contains alcohol.  They have been known to get louder and more aggressive after consuming this fruit.   That’s right kids, elephants get drunk too.)

While in the park, we stayed at a campsite called Red Chilli.  Although the website advertised modern bathroom facilities, the toilets never flushed and the shower water was cold.  Better than nothing?!  They did have a pretty decent food menu, and a nice open patio/bar where you could relax at night.  They also have an infestation of baboons and warthogs running freely throughout the camp.  I slept soundly, but both Chelsea and Aaron heard nighttime rustlings.  They both claim there was once even a hippo gallivanting around – and a newspaper clipping confirms the potential – although I cannot weigh in one way or the other.

Camp Baboon

Red Chilli Wart Hog

En route back to Gulu, we made one final stop at Karuma Falls, a site we drove past on the initial day and where one day soon a hydraulic power plant will exist.  This included pulling over to a random shack with a woman in a plastic chair who walked us the quarter mile into the woods to see the falls.  They were uninspiring at best.  The view is better from the main road. 

We returned to Gulu to turn in for the night.  But it appears we had a nighttime suitor:  a tiny lizard had snuggled down beneath the covers.  At this point, lizards are the least of our worries.  We prodded him out and climbed right in.

The following morning we ventured to the bus park in search of a vehicle to take us to Lira.  We were afraid our only option would be a van cab, known to cram at least twenty people inside.  We were pleasantly surprised when we encountered a large bus with a “Lira” sign out front.  12,000 shillings later (about $3) we were safely nestled inside.

And then we started driving.  Now I am no virgin to the perils of the Feng Wah bus, but this far surpasses that on the terror scale.  We were FLYING down a half paved road, fully crammed with pedestrians and animals at about 100 kmph.  That may not seem fast, but with these conditions and the state of this bus…I was pretty sure we were not going to survive.  Particularly when we were forced off the paved part for passing vehicles and were continuing this pace, with the added bonus of a 45 degree angle.

But the odds were forever in our favor and in two short hours we arrived safely home in Lira.  Exiting the bus, we were immediately confronted with blatant stares and gawking.  Ah, I almost forgot what it felt like to be inadvertent spectacle.  With so many volunteers, no one gives a second glance to whites in Gulu.

It was good to be home.

Soaring Highs and Sudden Lows

After the flying bug plague and the red ant attack, I was not feeling too keen on this Africa thing.  The next 24 hours did little to change that. 

I started the following morning off right:   with a 220v electrocution that left me seeing spots.  From there, I dropped my towel on the shower room floor.  Fantastic.  

Moving right along, there was no morning tea.  They cook over a charcoal fire here and we never know if one has been started or not.  I know if we asked, Susan would just make tea for us but we don’t want to add anything to her plate.  We suffer in silence.

On our way in, the car started smoking and backing exhaust up into the car.  Literally, smoke was pouring up through the floorboards. And we just kept cruising along the bumpy-as-shit dirt road at about 80-90 km – narrowly avoiding both a goat and a pig. The locals were laughing.  Chelsea was terrified.  I was napping. 

Why you ask?  Because the dog continues to cry at the top if its lungs ALL. NIGHT. LONG.  I hadn’t slept for more than one consecutive hour since it arrived.  I am not a happy camper when I am tired, hungry, and caffeine-less.

Upon our arrival at school, the headmistress comes in and says “I heard you missed tea this morning.”  Apparently word spreads fast…. 

Thankfully we were busy at Keframa, so the day passed quickly.  Upon arriving at home, we hoped for consolation tea given the morning rumor mill.  And soon enough, Susan appeared with the telltale mugs.  However, as she put it down she told us it was “something different.” 

Little did I know, I had just met my greatest African food enemy – millet porridge.

Millet is this brownish gray grain (?) they grind up.  The first time we encountered it, it was boiled into this gelatinous glob that we had originally (and excitedly) mistaken for meat -- until I tried to fork a big mouthful from the serving plate and it rebounded like Flubber.  This time, it was added to hot water with lemon and boiled down into a thick sludge.  It is as appetizing as it sounds.

In an effort to be polite, we choked down what we could.  Then, naturally, ran around the side of the house and dumped the rest out at the first available opportunity.  Later, a neighbor came over and started laughing with Susan in the local language.  Susan told us the woman saying us taking our porridge.  Caught red handed.

However, by that evening things were starting to look up.  We confirmed plans for a trip out to Murchison Falls National Park this weekend, where we will be doing some game drives, a boat trip up the Nile and hopefully some monkey trekking.  We also got permission to spend ALL DAY at the internet café on Wednesday to finish work on a video and fundraising website (more to come there – get your checkbooks ready!).   As you may have read, the beauty of the internet café is not the wireless.  It’s the running water, real toilet and availability of western food.  After the porridge incident, we were both thrilled at the prospect of burgers and pizza.

That night, Chelsea asked Susan if we could watch the next time she makes the cabbage dish we like so much.  Soon after, Susan came out with cabbage and a knife and began teaching us how to prepare it.  We were excited to learn…but also for the feast we knew awaited us. Plus, it didn’t hurt to rack up some good karma with Susan after the Infamous Porridge Scandal.

But that was not the only culinary treat ahead of us:  lo and behold, Susan produced spaghetti!!  Real live pasta.  My heart sailed.  There was also a delicious pea dish to round out the night.  Hallelujah, NO BEANS!

But it gets even better.  From the depths of the TV cupboard two sauces were unearthed:  one sweet, one chili based.  Now, this is the first time we have encountered any sort of condiments. Given that much of the food is very bland, the introduction of any sort of additional flavor made us feel like culinary queens.  We feasted – going back for seconds and thirds – and with full bellies I got my first good night of sleep since the dog arrived.

Alright, Africa.  I got this.

The next morning we decided to try to tackle laundry for the first time, given that we didn't have to go to Keframa early.  After much laughing and convincing that yes, we did want to actually do it…Susan set us up with the appropriate buckets and put us to work. 

They REALLY scrub their clothes here.  I mean, every inch is rubbed with a hard bar soap and then rescrubbed in the sudsy water.  No wonder my socks always come back so white despite the red dirt everywhere.  This woman is impressive.

With the laundry hanging on the line, Chelsea and I set off for our afternoon at the internet café.  Things were really productive, and around 4pm we decided to celebrate with a beer while we waited for the interminable upload.  That is when Augustine walked in….

Now, they have never explicitly banned alcohol but we have heard Augustine talk about the town drunks and how alcohol has destroyed people in the IDP camps.  He never outright addressed our beers, but we felt like we had been caught with our hands in the cookie jar.  Especially when he suggested that he should sit at another table.

After arriving home from the internet café, we discovered the living room full of strange men.  Apparently Susan has invited her prayer group over to sing some hymns with us….and we didn’t come home in time.  In fairness to us, it was only 7:30 and dinner is not usually until 9.  Plus, no one told us they were coming!  Either way, add that to the American strike column.

It is amazing how the little things can really make or break your day here.  I have always known that a large part of my life revolves around food, but something as simple as rice, cabbage, pasta or tea can really boost my spirits and leave me feeling ready to tackle the next six months.  Even a masterful use of a pit toilet can leave you feeling like a boss.

But then just as quickly, an email from home or a cultural misstep can have you feeling lost, lonely and misguided.  The highs are great, but the lows are just as deep.  With so much down time to reflect (aka do absolutely nothing), you find yourself much more cognizant of your thoughts and emotions.  It’s both refreshing and challenging.  

And right now there is a GIANT bug of some sorts scampering up the wall behind me.  Thank you mosquito net cocoon..... 

New Arrival(s)

WE GOT A PUPPY!!!

 

 

Augustine has been taunting me with the promise of this new arrival for several days, and I was starting to believe it was a sham.  But lo and behold, today our new friend arrived.  And he has not stopped crying from his dog house ever since.

 

 Sunday morning began as we can expect them all to: with church.  This time we went to Augustine’s Anglican church, a large white structure that has been under construction for the past 40 years.  This ceremony was no brief pilgrimage:  we were there for nearly three hours.  The highlight was an excruciatingly clumsy performance by a visiting Dutch group.  Clearly not singers, their weak attempt at amusement fell resoundingly flat.  The embarrassment was palatable.

During this eternal proceeding, there were no less than four separate calls for donations and a painfully forced auction.  I am amazed at the funds procured by this church for the sake of continued construction:  nearly 1 million Ugandan shillings a week ($400).  With that much coming in, you think they could have finished the place in the last 40 years.  Seems like a bit of a racket to me…

 After church, Augustine suggested we return to the internet café for lunch.  No objections on our end.  We split a bacon, egg and cheese that almost made up for the morning’s anguish.  Afterwards, Chelsea and I opted to walk home for the sake of exercise and exploration.

 The walk was long, and our decision to carry 5L of water each was one we quickly regretted.  I have a new admiration for the women carrying jerry cans, and a renewed resolve to learn the art of balancing shit on my head.  But all was forgotten when we returned home and discovered the puppy.  He will now be my new best friend.  If he ever stops crying….

 Unfortunately, the high of the cute fluffy addition did not last long.  Overnight there had been a colossal rain storm.  Thunder shook the house and the rain literally poured down in sheets.  It woke both of us up, and kept us up, for well over two hours.  As a result of these rains, a plague-level swarm of flying white ants descended upon us Sunday evening.

 Words cannot adequately describe the scene.  Hundreds of these bugs, three inches long with four big white wings, began swarming.  They were EVERYWHERE.  Even fleeing into the house was futile – there were as many inside as out. 

 

The Plague Aftermath

Our hosts were not the least bit bothered by having their dinner dive bombed by these winged menaces.  The most terrifying part:  the children were gleefully collecting them for what we later learned would be a snack.  That’s right, TO EAT. 

Bugs in Bowl

 With strategic plans regarding room entry and a fastidious tucking of mosquito net cocoon, I could have managed this onslaught.  If it weren’t for what happened Monday morning…

 Red. Ants.  Streams of them, hordes of them, were leaving clear passageways in the dirt. Picking at the dead bodies and discarded wings of the white ants (yes, the children ripped the wings off the ants they collected and left them littered around the porch).

 In my early morning haze, I didn’t look carefully enough at the ground and managed to step right into their crosshairs while brushing my teeth.  Suddenly I was being bitten all over.  It is amazing how fast these things are – in less than a minute there were on my chest.  Chelsea had the pleasure of witnessing the absolute freak-out that resulted.  Kicking my shoes off, running toward the porch and failing my arms wildly.  I barely managed to hang onto my toothbrush, rinsing water still in my mouth. 

I concluded my morning with a murderous rampage of ant stopping in a vain effort to prevent them from entering our room.  Needless to say, it was not my best 12 hours in Uganda.  And there wasn’t even any freaking tea….

The Art of Being Idle

The pace in Uganda is very slow.  Frustrating slow.  From walking to eating to timekeeping, everything moves with fluidity and an absolute lack of impetus.  It’s maddening.

 Our normal day at Keframa begins the promise of an 8:30am departure.  Usually we are on the bike between 9:15-9:30.   That gets us to school around 10.  Enough time to greet the entire staff, settle in and precisely nothing before its tea time at 11.  We then work from about 11:30 – 2:00 when we break for lunch.  Light work is done from 2-3, and then we usually sit in the yard and chat with the students.  While it may seem like ineffective work day, without emails binging and phones ringing constantly you can actually get a lot done in that short window.  We are also limited by the lack of electricity – laptop batteries only last so long. 

 We usually return home around 4:30-5ish and have some tea.  From there it’s a long stretch until dinner at 9pm, with only the highlight of a cold “shower” to break it up.  For me, it is a struggle to be this idle.  Days are long and filled with a lot of porch sitting and chicken watching.  I did have the pleasure of witnessing a rooster (referred to as a “cock” here which childishly makes me giggle) chase down, tackle and sex up a hen right before my eyes yesterday.  So there’s that.  I need a better book….

 To combat our boredom, Chelsea and I have taken to working out in our bedroom.  This puzzles the children, who like to peer at us from under the curtain and giggle.  Augustine has suggested we go for a run on the main road, but I am not yet confident enough in my anti-kidnapping skills. 

 Sitting outside this much also requires a vigilant application of bug spray.  Although we haven’t really seen any mosquitoes, a girl at the school, a pregnant family friend and their own son Justin have all had malaria in the past month.  I mistakenly got some of my 40% DEET bug lotion on my lip the other day, and was terrified to discover that it made my face go numb.  MGH colleagues – please find a cure for a cancer.  Because it’s coming my way.

 On Friday, Augustine suggested we take a break from Keframa and go visit its’ parent school – the Christian Institute for Advanced Education.  This is the school that Sam, one of our initial drivers, is the director of.  The Institute provided the initial funding for Keframa, and has continued to be one of its most steadfast supporters.  Although not an official employee, Augustine remains close with the organization and is actually on some of the founding paperwork.

 Arriving at the Institute, we were introduced to a number of folks.  The most notable was the Registrar, David.  His first question was whether we were democrats or republicans.  Second question:  “Are you not afraid of the black man?” 

 He then ushered us into his office where we had a lengthy discussion the housing market, availability of land, welfare and the social security system.  After answering thousands of questions about the coldness of snow, it was a pleasure to discuss something, anything, else about my country.

 From there it was off to the new nursing school being built by the Institute.  It is an impressive structure complete with a real library, computer lab and skills lab.  Most important – it has an actual toilet!!!  Although not functional at the moment, and located randomly in a hallway, Chelsea and I were both salivating.  

 That night Augustine and Susan told us they had “overnight duty.”  Apparently, it is common practice for churches to have all night dancing and prayer sessions.  Both Augustine and Susan were scheduled to speak at their respective churches that night, and would be leaving around 10pm.  Neither returned until the wee hours of the morning.  The children were left asleep in the bedroom.  I get the impression that would have happened whether we were present at the house or not.  Communal child rearing at its finest.

With our hosts out late partying it up for Jesus, that left Chelsea and I the luxury of sleeping in on Saturday.  And by that I mean 9am.  After a lethargic morning, Chelsea and I decided to set out on a big adventure– a trip to the internet café in town.  This trip served several purposes:  fast internet to allow for Skyping with the family, the opportunity to sneak to a restaurant we had seen promising pizza and a chance for some down time.  Our hosts are incredibly welcoming, but the amount of small talk required is exhausting.  Particularly when there are constant visitors with varying degrees of English.  And I’ll be honest...the children are getting to me. 

 

Downtown Lira

 

 The internet café turned out to be a glorious mecca.  Not only was there food – pizza, burgers, sandwiches and other recognizable items.  There was beer.  Sweet, sweet beer.  I don’t even care that it was a shitty pilsner.  But the holy grail….a flushing toilet.  A real, live toilet!  And a mirror!  I haven’t seen a mirror since we arrived.  We stuffed ourselves full of pizza and sipped  beer.  It was a celebrated return to sanity. 

 It was so magnificent in fact that we quickly lost track of time.  Suddenly it was 7pm and getting dark.  With a 45 minute walk ahead of us, we feared the worst.  A game time decision was made to hire our first boda boda.  The process was surprisingly easy, but we soon discovered we didn’t know the address.  A combination of shouts, gestures and vague landmarks landed us successfully back about 100 yards from our home.  We may have been charged double the going rate, but we were so grateful to arrive safely – and before  dark – that we gladly paid the extra $1.

 Bonus, one beer apparently is now enough for me to actually enjoy the usually terrifying boda rides.  No Koala clinging for me this time – I was letting my hair fly in the wind!

Life Without Running Water

Now the post you have all been waiting for.  The real nitty gritty of life in Uganda:  the ins and outs of living without running water (and spotty electricity)

 In Augustine’s compound, we are fortunate enough to have an electrically pumped spout not far from the house.  It is about 100 yards or so, around the corner.  Augustine tells us it is purified somewhere uptown and then pumped to us.  The vague brown-ish tint has me questioning this so-called purification process, so I am sticking to my bottled water for safety. 

 The issue with an electric pump is that electricity is not reliable.  In the first week, the power has gone out three times, which means no water. Usually it is only for a few hours, but this latest one has lasted all day.  I near the neighbors TVs and music, but nothing has been restored to us yet.  Thankfully they keep large jerry can reserves, so we were still able to take tea (the highlight of our days).

 Let’s start slowly with the drinking water.  It must be boiled, but more frequently we purchase bottled water.  Augustine is new to international visitors, and this was a subject we had to broach carefully.  The first day he proudly brought us hand-squeezed passion fruit juice.  But it was mixed with water.  Neither of them knew that water was a hot-button issue for us and still seem to think we will just get over our fears and try it.  They bring out pitchers of water to dinner every night and enough glasses for all of us.  This. Will. Not. Happen. 

 So, how do you shower?  The traditional Ugandan takes bucket showers.  This means exactly what you think it does.  You go to the tap, fill a bucket, carry it into the shower area and splash it over yourself. With your hands.  The water is cold.  Chelsea brought a camp shower with her, so we jerry-rigged that up in the shower area so we at least have some sort of spray.  It is weak and depressing and you have to crouch down to use it, but it exists.  We keep attempting to boil water so we can put it in the shower, but the process must be some ancient secret tradition since Susan refused to let us participate or witness it. Tea just magically arrives at her whim and we get a hot water surprise anytime she is feeling especially charitable (or maybe has extra water).  Since we are skeptical of the water source, you must towel vigorously to avoid parasites.

 

 

 What about brushing your teeth?  This we do standing on the porch, spitting directly onto the ground.  Chelsea and I use our bottled water bottles to rinse.  It’s a weird, but slightly freeing, experience.   

 Dishes and laundry are washed in tubs in the yard. This is a chore we have yet to participate in, but I expect that will change once the weekend arrives.   As I mentioned early, dishes are scrubbed with dirt and then hopefully soap.  Clothes are hand washed in a soap and water tub, and then hung on the line to dry.  There are parasites in Africa that burrow into wet fabric.  If you were to put these clothes on, they would lay “harmless” eggs in your skin.  Yes, you read that right - bugs would hatch and crawl out of your skin.  Given that this is probably #3 on my nightmare list, clothes must be ironed to kill these bugs before they can be worn.  Surprisingly, Susan knew this and has been ironing our clothes in advance of returning them to us.  Bonus.

 Now for the main event.  The real reason all of you are reading this post.  The Pit Toilets.  I have come to understand that Augustine is very well off comparatively.  His latrine structure is made entirely of concrete with a septic tank underneath.  This prevents one of the most disgusting and common challenges to pit toilet maintenance – flooding.  Yup, think about that.

 

 

The toilet is a hole approximately 4 inches across by 8 inches long.  Thankfully the hole underneath is deep enough that you can’t actually see anything.  You have to bring your own toilet paper.  Here they keep it really clean, so it usually doesn’t smell and there are rarely flies.  This is not the case for the pit latrine at Keframa.  That was a horrifying experience that still haunts my dreams.  I am not ready to discuss that yet….

 

 Now that you have put on your brave face and entered the toilet, you might think the worst of it is over.  But you would be wrong.  Actually utilizing the pit toilet is the most challenging part – resulting in highs and lows that can define the rest of your day.  And your shoe choice.

The first challenge is lighting.  Even in the best conditions the toilets are dark.  Most times, they are nearly pitch black.  This makes alignment quite challenging.  The smart thing to do would be to wait a minute until your eyes adjust, but let’s be honest…this is not a place you wish to spend anything more than the absolute minimum time necessary.  The second option is a flashlight, but that becomes yet another thing you have to wield – and not drop into the hole.

 Aim is important, but positioning is the real key.  Trajectories can be unpredictable and a variance of a few millimeters can make or break you.  Time is of the essence and mid-process adjustments are challenging.  This is truly a skill that requires mastery.  For us noives, splashing is an unavoidable consequence.

 The maid our hosts have hired clean the toilets daily.  Although nothing has been said or even insinuated, Chelsea and I know this is because of our failures.  However, we are working to improve.  We have analyzed our approaches, tested new theories and regularly report back on results.  Together…we shall overcome.

Playing Hooky

After two long days at Keframa College (more on that to come), Augustine tells us he has a few errands to run and would we mind hanging here today and “doing some emails.”  I can’t decide if he is just playing hooky or if he can’t get us a ride to school.  He has a boda boda he takes the kids to their school on, but we usually get picked up by a friend in a truck.  I think he is trying to spare us the face full of dust we would inevitably receive on the long dirt road to school. 

 Chelsea and I rejoice in the idea of a day off on the porch with our newly acquired internet.  As an added bonus, my favorite toddler, Jonathan, soon comes over with a bag of corn pops.  I have no idea who this child belongs to, but he always stops by with some sort of treat in his hand.  He gets into anything and everything, but is so cute you are willing to let it all slide. 

 

 Soon we hear the rattle of dishes which signals impending lunch.  I saw Susan carrying a dead rooster this morning so I am cautiously optimistic about the day’s culinary options.  Luring us in with the smell of recognizable meat and a flash of rice (no posho!), Susan then drops a bomb on us.  She would like us to attend her lunchtime church ceremony.  Given the recent bread incident, we say yes and act enthusiastic in the hopes of reviving her good favor.

 After lunch, we set out with the intent on walking the 1.5 miles into town.  Before we leave, Susan hands us both Bibles.  Mine is a very worn copy, very clearly their family Bible.  She tells me to keep it so I can “reflect upon the Lord” while I am here. 

 About 10 minutes into the walk, Susan gives up and hails two boda boda men.  She instructs us to hop on, and we are off.  Now, this is not only our second time on these death machines, it is the first time we are on a rented one.  Augustine took it nice and slow.  This guy is flying.  He comes within inches of bicycles and pedestrians.  Not to mention the looks we are getting for our riding style.  Ugandan women usually ride side saddle.  Chelsea and I climb on like men and hang on for dear life.  In long skirts, this is no easy feat and I am sure the driver is incredibly uncomfortable to have me clinging to him like a koala bear.

 Church was as we expected – lively, full of singing and dancing.  Chelsea and I bob along awkwardly, trying to fit in but in no was a rythemic or engaged as these people.  Susan even lets out a few Amazonian war calls.  Before the sermon can begin, we are asked to stand and state our names so the church can properly welcome us.  Thankfully, it is only an hour long….and in English.  Afterwards, we are taken to meet the chaplain, who is also the man who married Augustine and Susan.  He is pleasant enough, but there is something about that white collar that puts me on edge.  Sorry, Irish catholic family!

 On our way back, Susan takes us through the main marketplace.  The formal building is under construction, so it’s a large dirt area with makeshift tents laid out in rambling confusing ways.  They sell everything: food, clothes, shoes, pots and pans.  There is no apparent organization whatsoever and without her as a guide I think I might get stunk and end  up wandering through there like Moses in the dessert.

Back at the house, we find Augustine just waking from a nap.  Pushing my jealousy aside, we asked him to teach us some of the local language.  Uganda has 52 different local language, with the national one being English.  Here in Lira, they speak Loungo.  It’s a melodic, fast paced cadence with a heavy emphasis on the “ehh” sound.  Augustine is incredibly patient with us, but his face indicates that our America tongues are just not hitting the right sounds.  It doesn’t help that the children are openly laughing.

 Then a series of miraculous events.  First, a HOT SHOWER.  Attending church must have rekindled a warmth in Susan as she has filled the entire camp shower with hot water.  I have never been so excited to crouch down in a concrete jail cell as I was this night.  Then, dinner arrives and again we are spared posho!!  Instead, there is rice, black beans (hooray – for once not kidney) and then….THE EGG DISH RETURNS! 

 For once, Chelsea and I take seconds.  We don’t even sneak in crackers before bed.

Cultural Musings

In the interest of your time and attention spans, I will limit my cultural musings to bullet points:

·         White people are an oddity worthy of shameless gawking.  My mere smile has even been known to bring young children to terror tears. 

·         Handshakes are a guessing game (they call it “greeting you”).  Sometimes it will be a limp hand, more brushed against then shaking yours.  Other times we go for the full African monty  – shake, twist to grab thumbs and shake again.  You never know what they are coming in for.  Oh, and sometimes women kneel to greet.  I can’t figure out when or why but it makes me feel like an ungrateful jerk every time I miss the cue.

·         DO NOT FORGET THE PRAYER.  Every meal, including snack-less tea, must be blessed.  Even if they set it down and walk away, be prepared for the sneak attack – they will be back and will look upon you with disgust if you are caught with a mouthful of unblessed bread.  Trust me, it will take days to win back their favor after displaying such hedonistic behavior.

·         Never pull your camera out in front of a group of children.  You will be suddenly surrounded by smiling children, hamming it up and yelling at you in foreign tongues.  Walk away and they will follow you, for much longer than you think their attention span will last.  It’s a reverse paparazzi situation.

·         Bald is in.  All the men, children and women have close cropped heads here.  I have seen a few women with intricate braids, but they are few and far between.  Even less so than the women wearing pants or riding the ubiquitous “boda boda” motorcycles normally – they sit side saddle.

·         If you drop something, have a coughing fit, trip or otherwise inflict embarrassment and/or pain on yourself, “sorry” is the response of choice for Ugandans.  I spilled milk on Susan’s floor and she said sorry to me.  I have yet to figure out what you say back. 

·         No need for an alarm clock here – your friendly rooster will throw a fit at dawn.  (I can’t wait to eat that bastard….)  And everyone is up at 6am, and they do not care if you are not.  There is no concept of being quiet for your neighbors.  The kids play loudly in front of our door in the morning and as I type this someone down the road is blaring Beyonce at 11pm.  Not that I’m complaining….*~*all my single ladies!*~*

·         Dishes are scrubbed with dirt.  Literally.  I assume – or at least I want to believe -- they also use soap at some point, but the heavy scrubbing is definitely done by grabbing a handful of dirt.  Perhaps that explains the gritty texture of the posho….

·         ANIMALS EVERYWHERE.  And not the cool exotic African ones you hope for.  Instead its chickens, pigs, goats and cows.  For a country that is supposedly limited in food, you think people would keep a tighter eye on their livestock.  But nope, these animals promenade down the street with ropes dangling from their necks.  They will even saunter right into your pit toilet if you aren’t careful.