Hello, again!
The short answer to "how was your weekend?" is that it was wonderful. Words can't do it justice and I don't think pictures can catch what it was like to be there. I hope this gives you a little sense of what it was like.
Obviously a lot happened. I've tried to whittle it down into reasonable chunks and to put it into chronological order, but there's still both a lot left out and a lot of detail! I hope you don't find it too tedious. Luckily for you, Blogger sets a limit of 5 photos per post, otherwise you'd be seeing a lot more warthogs.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Our Tour: the who and the how
Our group was small—ridiculously so, given the size of the vehicle we took. There were six of us on the tour (one only joined us while we were in Murchison Falls National Park itself) and four staff, all traveling in an overland vehicle that could take up a zip code. Given the state the vehicle was in at the end of our tour, I can’t imagine what it must be like when it’s full of people, but it did seem strange to have this enormous monster for so few of us. Apparently, the pop-top van was in the shop.
At least one person in each party had some reason to be in Uganda; the others were visiting the ones doing work here. One young woman, a recent Columbia grad, was working on an anti-malaria project before beginning a Masters degree in International Relations; another was working on a project for the World Bank. Simon Joseph (“Call me SiJo”), the young man who joined up with our part in Murchison Falls seems vaguely to be wandering around Uganda, getting involved in various things and then wandering off again. And then me, of course. It seems to me that the Uganda tourism industry is fairly dependent upon the Uganda aid industry.
People asked what I was doing, and I explained about Kiva. Then they would ask what I’m doing when I’m not working with Kiva. I’d say I am an Episcopal priest. The reactions were typically varied. One person quickly told me that he was Methodist. Another said, “I never would have guessed that.” They took it well, though.
Our crew were really great and an interesting mix. Courtney, the leader of the tour, sounded like an Aussie but grew up in Zimbabwe and had some interesting stories and insights into that country. Along with Courtney, Julius and Kirunda did yeomen’s duty. Julius helped me set up and break down my tent every day. (He’s not pictured here, unfortunately.)
Finally, there was Beki, the driver. You can imagine my confusion when I heard about “Becky,” and met this big, burly guy. I can’t imagine being a driver in Uganda, except that I imagine it would be exhausting! Even the good roads are loaded with ruts and potholes. As we left Kampala, we saw an 18-wheeler jackknifed next to the road, clearly having tried to avoid some pothole in front of it. Given the size of our vehicle, driving was a challenge (though easier in some ways), but Beki was simply amazing. Not exactly a smooth trip, but a reasonably comfortable one overall.
At least one person in each party had some reason to be in Uganda; the others were visiting the ones doing work here. One young woman, a recent Columbia grad, was working on an anti-malaria project before beginning a Masters degree in International Relations; another was working on a project for the World Bank. Simon Joseph (“Call me SiJo”), the young man who joined up with our part in Murchison Falls seems vaguely to be wandering around Uganda, getting involved in various things and then wandering off again. And then me, of course. It seems to me that the Uganda tourism industry is fairly dependent upon the Uganda aid industry.
People asked what I was doing, and I explained about Kiva. Then they would ask what I’m doing when I’m not working with Kiva. I’d say I am an Episcopal priest. The reactions were typically varied. One person quickly told me that he was Methodist. Another said, “I never would have guessed that.” They took it well, though.
Our crew were really great and an interesting mix. Courtney, the leader of the tour, sounded like an Aussie but grew up in Zimbabwe and had some interesting stories and insights into that country. Along with Courtney, Julius and Kirunda did yeomen’s duty. Julius helped me set up and break down my tent every day. (He’s not pictured here, unfortunately.) 
Finally, there was Beki, the driver. You can imagine my confusion when I heard about “Becky,” and met this big, burly guy. I can’t imagine being a driver in Uganda, except that I imagine it would be exhausting! Even the good roads are loaded with ruts and potholes. As we left Kampala, we saw an 18-wheeler jackknifed next to the road, clearly having tried to avoid some pothole in front of it. Given the size of our vehicle, driving was a challenge (though easier in some ways), but Beki was simply amazing. Not exactly a smooth trip, but a reasonably comfortable one overall.
Day 1: Ziwa Rhino Sanctuary
Late afternoon on Friday, we arrived at the Ziwa Sanctuary, a 70 sq. km. compound where six white rhinos are being reintroduced to the wild in Uganda. Aside from these six, there are only two others at the zoo in Entebbe.
Three of us and a guide rode in the back of a pickup truck through swampy terrain (as the truck fishtailed around I thought, “Who is this person, doing such a crazy thing?) to see the six rhinos being watched by armed guards. At one point our guide pointed out a rhino footprint in the mud. As one of my fellow-travelers said, it was a very Jurassic Park moment, seeing this huge track in the mud.
We drove about 15 minutes to the place where the guards were watching the rhinos. The guards seemed very fond of the rhinos, knowing them each by name and gossiping about them. “Oh, Moji!” they would say as one of the rhinos grazed behind a tree. He was the dominant male, but none of the others liked him, they told us. “Nande!” they’d say of the big female, recently relocated there from DisneyWorld, of all places, as she glared at us and then wandered off. The guards spend a week at a time staying with the rhinos, reporting on their location via GPS and ensuring that poachers don’t get them.
To be honest, watching rhinos is a bit like watching very large cows grazing. Still impressive as all get-out, though.
Three of us and a guide rode in the back of a pickup truck through swampy terrain (as the truck fishtailed around I thought, “Who is this person, doing such a crazy thing?) to see the six rhinos being watched by armed guards. At one point our guide pointed out a rhino footprint in the mud. As one of my fellow-travelers said, it was a very Jurassic Park moment, seeing this huge track in the mud.
We drove about 15 minutes to the place where the guards were watching the rhinos. The guards seemed very fond of the rhinos, knowing them each by name and gossiping about them. “Oh, Moji!” they would say as one of the rhinos grazed behind a tree. He was the dominant male, but none of the others liked him, they told us. “Nande!” they’d say of the big female, recently relocated there from DisneyWorld, of all places, as she glared at us and then wandered off. The guards spend a week at a time staying with the rhinos, reporting on their location via GPS and ensuring that poachers don’t get them.
To be honest, watching rhinos is a bit like watching very large cows grazing. Still impressive as all get-out, though.
Day 2: Chimp Trek
We arrived at Murchison Falls National Park around 8 in the morning and at the Budongo Forest a little before 9 for our Chimp Trek. We all had to stuff our pants into our socks, which looked ridiculous, but since the option was having ants crawl up our legs and bite us, we all complied. There were other rules as well: no flash photography, no spitting, no eating or drinking in front of the animals, and no one could go if we had a cold or cough.
Heading out, our ranger told us we might need to walk 5 km to get to where the chimps were, but we lucked out and saw our first chimp about a kilometer into the forest. Not that we would have seen it except that our guide said, “Chimp,” and we all turned around and there it was, crossing a grassy area in front of us. I have numerous pictures of this grassy area just after a chimp has walked through it, so I hope you will take my word for it that there were big black hairy things loping through this sunny grass while I watched; one is just behind and to the right of the big stump in this picture. Really.
The chimpanzees were much, much bigger than I thought they would be. I had “Bedtime for Bonzo” firmly in mind, but these wild ones were, at a guess, close to twice that size. We followed a group of chimps who were headed to a fruit tree and there saw as wide a range of chimp activity as I could imagine. A mother with a baby clinging to her. A female in heat. A male erecting (as our guide pointed out to us). A couple of chimps grooming. And as we watched the chimps grooming, less than a minute, our guide said, “Mating’s done,” which left all of us thinking “That was quick!” Then the chimps climbed to the ground on long vines and wandered off.
Unfortunately, none of the pictures came out very clearly; it was hard to see them even when I was right there and required fairly hard concentration to make out what was happening (with the exception of the erecting, which was pretty obvious). Mostly I just watched as best I could since it seemed a shame to miss what was actually in front of me for the sake of a blurry photo.
Again, our guide and another who joined us knew the animals by name. “I haven’t seen Jingo in a long time!” our guide told us, pointing out a male doing some grooming of another chimp in the tree, which you can vaguely make out in this photo.
When we got back, Courtney asked us if we’d seen any chimps. When we burbled about all we’d seen, Courtney told us we’d been very lucky; we were the first group she’d brought that had seen anything other than a single chimp. We were amazingly lucky.
Heading out, our ranger told us we might need to walk 5 km to get to where the chimps were, but we lucked out and saw our first chimp about a kilometer into the forest. Not that we would have seen it except that our guide said, “Chimp,” and we all turned around and there it was, crossing a grassy area in front of us. I have numerous pictures of this grassy area just after a chimp has walked through it, so I hope you will take my word for it that there were big black hairy things loping through this sunny grass while I watched; one is just behind and to the right of the big stump in this picture. Really.
The chimpanzees were much, much bigger than I thought they would be. I had “Bedtime for Bonzo” firmly in mind, but these wild ones were, at a guess, close to twice that size. We followed a group of chimps who were headed to a fruit tree and there saw as wide a range of chimp activity as I could imagine. A mother with a baby clinging to her. A female in heat. A male erecting (as our guide pointed out to us). A couple of chimps grooming. And as we watched the chimps grooming, less than a minute, our guide said, “Mating’s done,” which left all of us thinking “That was quick!” Then the chimps climbed to the ground on long vines and wandered off.
Unfortunately, none of the pictures came out very clearly; it was hard to see them even when I was right there and required fairly hard concentration to make out what was happening (with the exception of the erecting, which was pretty obvious). Mostly I just watched as best I could since it seemed a shame to miss what was actually in front of me for the sake of a blurry photo.
Again, our guide and another who joined us knew the animals by name. “I haven’t seen Jingo in a long time!” our guide told us, pointing out a male doing some grooming of another chimp in the tree, which you can vaguely make out in this photo.
When we got back, Courtney asked us if we’d seen any chimps. When we burbled about all we’d seen, Courtney told us we’d been very lucky; we were the first group she’d brought that had seen anything other than a single chimp. We were amazingly lucky.
Day 2: Lunch with warthogs
We stopped at the Red Chilli campground for lunch on Saturday (and also to use actual flush toilets. Our tour was very good that way, with plenty of rugged out-in-the-bush experiences followed by regular stops for some creature comforts, like toilets and running water). As we pulled into the campground, Courtney told us, “There’s a family of warthogs that lives on the grounds. You might see them around.”
I was beside myself. For those of you who don’t know, I have a thing for warthogs. And as we sat down for lunch, Courtney said, “Oh, there are the warthogs.” I turned around, and there they were! Two females and three warthoglets. The warthoglets look like Babe if Babe were cast to play Wolverine in the X-men movies. And they were all incredibly cute. I took a ridiculous number of pictures, as you will see because I will inflict many of them on you.
At one point a baboon wandered through the camp and the warthogs got all bent out of shape and wandered away. But then they came back. I was sitting on a picnic bench looking at one of the females standing right in front of me. She gave an aggrieved snort which startled me, but I got the message and moved back to the covered tables where I belonged.
I was beside myself. For those of you who don’t know, I have a thing for warthogs. And as we sat down for lunch, Courtney said, “Oh, there are the warthogs.” I turned around, and there they were! Two females and three warthoglets. The warthoglets look like Babe if Babe were cast to play Wolverine in the X-men movies. And they were all incredibly cute. I took a ridiculous number of pictures, as you will see because I will inflict many of them on you.
At one point a baboon wandered through the camp and the warthogs got all bent out of shape and wandered away. But then they came back. I was sitting on a picnic bench looking at one of the females standing right in front of me. She gave an aggrieved snort which startled me, but I got the message and moved back to the covered tables where I belonged.
Day 2: Game drive
After lunch, we took a small ferry across the Albert Nile to the north side where most of the game live (on the south side, most was poached during the 20 years of violence in the north of Uganda). Some hippos were right by the ferry, the first of many, many hippos I saw on the trip.
We got into the observation deck on the front of the vehicle for the game drive, seeing a lot of deer-like animals and water buffalo as well as the occasional distant giraffe. I love how the water buffalo just turn and look at you after you go past, with those marcelled wings of horns. 
The sky was getting ominously dark all the while, and you can barely make out the rainbow in this picture of a giraffe.Then DJ, our guide, said, “Lions.” I couldn’t see a thing. “You can see the black tips of their tails waving.” Nope. “Over there beneath the trees.” Not a thing. Fortunately, Beki drove off the road and we went right around them (though I feel mighty sorry for the lions themselves, dealing with us tourists all the time). What an incredible sight! Two lionesses with cubs eating up a water buffalo. And off under a nearby tree, a male lion who stared right at us with those enormous amber eyes. They were simply mesmerizing. Unbelievable.
And just after we drove around them all, it started to pour. We drove to our campsite as it rained and sat in the vehicle for about a half hour when it stopped. And that was the only rain we had on the trip. The timing simply couldn’t have been better. We set up tents out in the middle of nowhere and didn’t see any other people until the next morning. Fortunately, we didn't see any other large animals either.
Day 3: Morning game drive
Courtney woke us all up while it was still dark so we could get out and see the animals as the day was just starting. We went out for about 90 minutes and came back to have breakfast around the fire.
We hoped to see elephants, but our luck didn’t stretch to elephants on this trip. Given everything else we’d been able to see and do, I can’t say I feel too bad about it. Saw a couple of elephants waaaaaay in the distance and that would have to do.
We went back to the lions who had made good headway (so to speak) on the water buffalo. The tails of lionesses and cubs twitched irritably as we drove over to them again, and the lion stalked off with offended dignity. The lionesses roared at us, and that’s a scary sound, I tell you what. It’s one thing when it’s the MGM lion within the circle on the screen; it’s quite another thing when hunters who have already taken down a water buffalo are 10 feet in front of you.
The story of the morning was giraffes. They were everywhere. And so many of them. I could readily imagine that if you were a guide in the park, after a while you’d wonder why everyone was getting so excited about these animals. It’s like people coming to a park in Oakland and getting excited when they see the squirrels. Still, giraffes are just so cool, you know. They’ve got the cool walk going. I bet they’d look good in a leather jacket.
We hoped to see elephants, but our luck didn’t stretch to elephants on this trip. Given everything else we’d been able to see and do, I can’t say I feel too bad about it. Saw a couple of elephants waaaaaay in the distance and that would have to do.
We went back to the lions who had made good headway (so to speak) on the water buffalo. The tails of lionesses and cubs twitched irritably as we drove over to them again, and the lion stalked off with offended dignity. The lionesses roared at us, and that’s a scary sound, I tell you what. It’s one thing when it’s the MGM lion within the circle on the screen; it’s quite another thing when hunters who have already taken down a water buffalo are 10 feet in front of you.
The story of the morning was giraffes. They were everywhere. And so many of them. I could readily imagine that if you were a guide in the park, after a while you’d wonder why everyone was getting so excited about these animals. It’s like people coming to a park in Oakland and getting excited when they see the squirrels. Still, giraffes are just so cool, you know. They’ve got the cool walk going. I bet they’d look good in a leather jacket.
Day 3-4: Murchison Falls
After another lunch at Red Chilli (no warthogs, but a shower!), we took a boat up the Albert Nile to the base of Murchison Falls (named for the head of the Royal Geographic Society by someone cleverly trying to get in good with the big man, I’m thinking). Along the way we saw hordes of hippos (a group is called a school, we were told), a couple of crocodiles, and some wonderful weaver birds that build nests that look like Christmas ornaments in the trees.
The boat doesn’t get terribly close to the falls and we could only see them from a distance, but our group got off the boat and clambered up on some rocks where we met yet another guide who led us on a steep trail up to the top. I could tell my triathlon training was far behind me as I needed to stop and pant several times on the way up. But it was so worth it! There’s a second branch to the falls that you can’t see from the boat, formed in 1962, the year of Ugandan independence. At the top, we could get close to the falls. No fences blocked the view. No crowds either. Including the six of our group, there were maybe a dozen people at the top of the falls.
We camped there at a site just past the falls, looking down at the water. With clear skies, the stars came out looking very unfamiliar in the southern setting. I went to bed early, still sweating, it felt, from the climb up the falls. There was an outhouse at the campsite, but I had to go from the tent down a hill and across a track to an outhouse that I had noted earlier contained a lot of spiders. My prayer before bed that night was that God would have mercy on me and keep me from needing to use the bathroom during the night. I am happy to report that God heard my plea.
In the morning, once again we were up before sunrise so we could leave the park before being charged for another day. As I sat eating my breakfast, a hippo climbed out on a rock in the middle of the river, then eased itself in again. Flocks of white egrets flew in formation in front of the green hills across the river. The sun rose right in front of us. And then we packed everything away and left.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Back from safari!
Hello, there! Just a quick note to let you know I had an absolutely fantastic time. I will be writing in greater detail in days to come, but here is a picture from perhaps THE highlight of my trip.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Heading off on safari!
You won't be hearing from me this weekend because I'm leaving tomorrow for a four-day safari up to Murchison Falls National Park. Rhinos and hippos and chimps--oh my! I'll have lots of photos when I return. In the meantime, here's a cheater photo from www.ugandatravelguide.com.
Trashy photos
My fascination with the trash continues unabated. Here are two pictures for your contemplation.
This first is a picture of a flock of marabou cranes gathered around a mysterious pile of trash bags in the middle of an open field just across the street from Garden City Mall, the only mall in Kampala, and an upscale sort of neighborhood generally. Why was this trash dumped here? And why is there no other trash around it? Also, aren't they wonderfully ugly? Kind of like warthogs; that's why I like 'em.
This second picture I took out my kitchen window. I was working at home yesterday afternoon when I heard Alex open the door and talk to a woman. I thought it might be my landlady, but it turned out to be these two women who came out to the back and sorted through the trash. I saw them pull out a glass bottle for one thing; for the rest I'm not sure what they gleaned. But it was an amazing moment in a pecular sort of way.
This first is a picture of a flock of marabou cranes gathered around a mysterious pile of trash bags in the middle of an open field just across the street from Garden City Mall, the only mall in Kampala, and an upscale sort of neighborhood generally. Why was this trash dumped here? And why is there no other trash around it? Also, aren't they wonderfully ugly? Kind of like warthogs; that's why I like 'em.
This second picture I took out my kitchen window. I was working at home yesterday afternoon when I heard Alex open the door and talk to a woman. I thought it might be my landlady, but it turned out to be these two women who came out to the back and sorted through the trash. I saw them pull out a glass bottle for one thing; for the rest I'm not sure what they gleaned. But it was an amazing moment in a pecular sort of way.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Cleenton or Obama?
A Ugandan man reminded me yesterday morning that tomorrow is the Pennsylvania primaries. I'm glad someone around here is keeping up with international news.
If I get into any extended conversation with a local, inevitably I am asked, "Are you voting for Cleenton or Obama?" Never McCain. There's no particular dislike for Clinton here, as far as I can tell, but there's certainly great enthusiasm for Obama. Though the Provost of the Cathedral worried that he was "too liberal," one man, a total stranger who asked me this question as I sat next to him on a matatu, gave me five when I told him I had voted for Obama.
If I get into any extended conversation with a local, inevitably I am asked, "Are you voting for Cleenton or Obama?" Never McCain. There's no particular dislike for Clinton here, as far as I can tell, but there's certainly great enthusiasm for Obama. Though the Provost of the Cathedral worried that he was "too liberal," one man, a total stranger who asked me this question as I sat next to him on a matatu, gave me five when I told him I had voted for Obama.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Fire at Budo Junior, and a pastoral response
I have no idea if the news reached the States about the absolutely horrific fire that happened last Monday at Budo Junior Primary School, a very exclusive boarding school here. Bay Area folks, think Head-Royce-type reputation, only more so. I'm not clear on the details, but no one seems to be. Was there arson? Possibly. Were the doors to the dorm locked so the girls couldn't get out? Probably. Were the security guards watching the football match? Very likely. Where was the matron? No one is sure. Did someone keep those trying to help get the girls out from entering the school grounds? Reportedly. And what happened to all the school fees, since teachers haven't been paid in six months? A very good question.
With all of this, though, the fact remains that 19 girls were burned to death in their dormitory last Monday night, all but one beyond recognition. They had to do DNA testing on the remains before releasing them to the parents. It's beyind horrible. One of the girls died after pulling out several others and going in for more. Another tried to get her twin sister to leave the dorm, but she refused, saying, "Let me sleep." Stories keep emerging along with a lot of opinions, but no real answers.
This morning at church (All Saints, Nakasero), the vicar had 20 roses for the girls who had been killed (was it 20 or just 19? That's another question). She invited anyone with a connection to Budo, or simply if they wished, to come forward and take a rose as she read a poem in memory of the girls who had died; then we all sang a song. It was devastating; certainly I was crying. I can't imagine how one could handle something like this any better.
Below, I am copying the poem the vicar read (and possibly wrote; there was no author), which is quite long, but I think worth sharing with you. Please pray for those who died in the fire at Budo Junior and for their families.
To all Budo Junior Parents who lost their children
I Lost My Child
I lost my child today
People came from far and wide
Horror stricken to weep and cry
As I just sat and stared, dry eyed
They struggled to find words to say
To make the pain go away
I walked away in disbelief
I lost my child today
I lost my child on Monday
People came and went away
Some still call some still stay
I wait to wake up from this dream
This can't be real I want to scream
Yet everything is locked inside
God help me I want to die
I lost my little one on Monday
Six days ago I lost my child
The anger rages like high tide
I sit and struggle all day long
To bear the pain so deep so strong
My friends do not know how to soothe
They say a prayer and share a psalm
But nothing seems to bring me calm
Last week I lost my child
20 daughters lost one by one
The joy, the laughter, the giggles, the fun
All lost in one raging horror
All I hear is blame, blame, blame
The song is the same, as is the fear
Questions, vengeance and pursuit for answers
How on earth can we keep the balance?
Can someone stop, can someone hear
The still small voice rising up through the anguish
Up through the gloom, up through the darkness
Listen, my child I am here
Do not be afraid I am near
We lost our precious child this week
From the heavens I bow down and weep
An act so vile, repugnant to the skies
My heart is wounded for every child
Yet all is not lost
For she is a precious gift to you
Lived not in vain
Even though there is still doubt and pain
Anger, fury, guilt and rage
For the time she was for you to hold
The love you shared more precious than gold
Stronger than death, longer than life
May it live on above the turmoil & strife
Her fatal and unfortunate end
Shall however
Never upstage her beautiful smile, her laughter
Her charm, her dreams, her passion, her life
The magnitude of who she was yet so young
Let her memory still live within me
And I shall cherish it till my time
And I hold no grudge for this treacherous crime
And so for the sake of her who brought great joy
Do not despair overcome by grief
For to die inside is a worse defeat
Peace choked by anger
Joy extinguished by grief
Her gift to us must not be lost
Let this instead, be your prayer
When doubts fill your mind
When fears assail
Father O Father quieten my soul
Be so real, present in my loss
Strengthen my faith, help me bear this cross
And Father please at the end of each day
Help me remember the love not the pain
With all of this, though, the fact remains that 19 girls were burned to death in their dormitory last Monday night, all but one beyond recognition. They had to do DNA testing on the remains before releasing them to the parents. It's beyind horrible. One of the girls died after pulling out several others and going in for more. Another tried to get her twin sister to leave the dorm, but she refused, saying, "Let me sleep." Stories keep emerging along with a lot of opinions, but no real answers.
This morning at church (All Saints, Nakasero), the vicar had 20 roses for the girls who had been killed (was it 20 or just 19? That's another question). She invited anyone with a connection to Budo, or simply if they wished, to come forward and take a rose as she read a poem in memory of the girls who had died; then we all sang a song. It was devastating; certainly I was crying. I can't imagine how one could handle something like this any better.
Below, I am copying the poem the vicar read (and possibly wrote; there was no author), which is quite long, but I think worth sharing with you. Please pray for those who died in the fire at Budo Junior and for their families.
To all Budo Junior Parents who lost their children
I Lost My Child
I lost my child today
People came from far and wide
Horror stricken to weep and cry
As I just sat and stared, dry eyed
They struggled to find words to say
To make the pain go away
I walked away in disbelief
I lost my child today
I lost my child on Monday
People came and went away
Some still call some still stay
I wait to wake up from this dream
This can't be real I want to scream
Yet everything is locked inside
God help me I want to die
I lost my little one on Monday
Six days ago I lost my child
The anger rages like high tide
I sit and struggle all day long
To bear the pain so deep so strong
My friends do not know how to soothe
They say a prayer and share a psalm
But nothing seems to bring me calm
Last week I lost my child
20 daughters lost one by one
The joy, the laughter, the giggles, the fun
All lost in one raging horror
All I hear is blame, blame, blame
The song is the same, as is the fear
Questions, vengeance and pursuit for answers
How on earth can we keep the balance?
Can someone stop, can someone hear
The still small voice rising up through the anguish
Up through the gloom, up through the darkness
Listen, my child I am here
Do not be afraid I am near
We lost our precious child this week
From the heavens I bow down and weep
An act so vile, repugnant to the skies
My heart is wounded for every child
Yet all is not lost
For she is a precious gift to you
Lived not in vain
Even though there is still doubt and pain
Anger, fury, guilt and rage
For the time she was for you to hold
The love you shared more precious than gold
Stronger than death, longer than life
May it live on above the turmoil & strife
Her fatal and unfortunate end
Shall however
Never upstage her beautiful smile, her laughter
Her charm, her dreams, her passion, her life
The magnitude of who she was yet so young
Let her memory still live within me
And I shall cherish it till my time
And I hold no grudge for this treacherous crime
And so for the sake of her who brought great joy
Do not despair overcome by grief
For to die inside is a worse defeat
Peace choked by anger
Joy extinguished by grief
Her gift to us must not be lost
Let this instead, be your prayer
When doubts fill your mind
When fears assail
Father O Father quieten my soul
Be so real, present in my loss
Strengthen my faith, help me bear this cross
And Father please at the end of each day
Help me remember the love not the pain
Another sign I have never seen in the U.S.
This is just steps away from my apartment in Bukoto and gets updated each weekend, or whenever the football games are on. You can see at the bottom that they charge 500 shillings (that's what that /= means) to see the match.
Personally, I have decided on Chelsea as my team of choice. Manchester United and Arsenal seem to be the two huge powerhouse teams, but Chelsea is in the top 4 and likely to be in the finals. Might as well jump on the bandwagon with a team that's likely to do well--unlike FULHAM, the next-to-last in the league and therefore likely to be OUT of the Premier League at the end of the season. (I kind of like this system; the bottom three teams get dumped to a lower level, while the top three at the next level down can come up to Premier League.) FULHAM! It's like rooting for the Giants, for Pete's sake.
Personally, I have decided on Chelsea as my team of choice. Manchester United and Arsenal seem to be the two huge powerhouse teams, but Chelsea is in the top 4 and likely to be in the finals. Might as well jump on the bandwagon with a team that's likely to do well--unlike FULHAM, the next-to-last in the league and therefore likely to be OUT of the Premier League at the end of the season. (I kind of like this system; the bottom three teams get dumped to a lower level, while the top three at the next level down can come up to Premier League.) FULHAM! It's like rooting for the Giants, for Pete's sake.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Nakawa Market
Coming back from visiting borrowers in Bugolobi yesterday, the loan officer, whose name is Teopista, and I needed to change matatus in Nakawa. Teopista is a very serious woman, a single mother, who often seems almost severe in her mien. But when she asked if I wanted to see the market I thought I detected a glint in her eye. I accepted gladly and she led me into the melee that is Nakawa Market.
Wow, is what I have to say. Pictures really don’t capture it. I walked in through this part that looks like a junky flea market with lots of clothes, backpacks, toiletries, durable goods.
Teopista then took me to the vegetable market in the back, and that’s the part that blew my mind. Just the smell of it—a really wonderful wholesome smell of foodstuffs. Pyramids of tomatoes. Piles of greens. Bags of rice and beans. Mounds of fruits that I couldn’t even identify. I was so glad to have Teopista with me to tell me what some of them were. Popo, which looks like a cross between a football and a watermelon with an orange meat inside and a hollow center. Tamarind. Passion fruit—of several varieties. Citrus fruits that looked like large limes on the outside and oranges on the inside.
I bought some tomatoes from a vendor who had allowed me to take her picture, as you see here. You can also see how they pile the tomatoes into little tomato cairns, which sold for 300/= per cairn.
Some vendors seem offended by the idea of being photographed. They're business people and not a tourist attraction after all, and so I was a bit skittish about asking or taking pictures without also offering some remuneration, but I did also take this picture of bags of spices, unidentified. I have no idea what the brown grounds are.
I bought some cauliflower, the first I’d seen in Kampala, from another man. Teopista had no idea what cauliflower was, so I was at least able to tell her something!
Lots of people calling out to me, “Mazungu!” but in that setting I didn’t feel bad about ignoring the calls. I would have liked to buy some rice there, maybe some peas, but Teopista was moving along and I didn’t feel right about being leisurely about all this.
We went through the open air fish market where a man was hacking away at a huge fish, a tuna, I’m guessing. There were lots of very tiny silver fish that I asked Teopista about; called matote, or something like that, piled high in bins and dried, scooped out with tin cups. Long eely fish that were placed on the block in a serpentine manner.
And then back through the hard goods again. Teopista said that on Saturdays, you can’t even move it’s so crowded at Nakawa Market. I can believe it. It was crowded enough today. I'm mighty grateful to Teopista for taking me. For one, I don't think I would have dared try it on my own. For another, all I would have seen were the cheap plastic items facing the street. I doubt I would have made it as far as the spectacle of the food market. I wondered at the time why Teopista was taking the trouble to show me this, but then, if the roles were reversed, I would do the same thing, showing something authentic to my home and yet spectacular. I feel very fortunate to be here in a role that gives me guides who aren't interested in me as a tourist but as a visitor or a guest.
Wow, is what I have to say. Pictures really don’t capture it. I walked in through this part that looks like a junky flea market with lots of clothes, backpacks, toiletries, durable goods. Teopista then took me to the vegetable market in the back, and that’s the part that blew my mind. Just the smell of it—a really wonderful wholesome smell of foodstuffs. Pyramids of tomatoes. Piles of greens. Bags of rice and beans. Mounds of fruits that I couldn’t even identify. I was so glad to have Teopista with me to tell me what some of them were. Popo, which looks like a cross between a football and a watermelon with an orange meat inside and a hollow center. Tamarind. Passion fruit—of several varieties. Citrus fruits that looked like large limes on the outside and oranges on the inside.
I bought some tomatoes from a vendor who had allowed me to take her picture, as you see here. You can also see how they pile the tomatoes into little tomato cairns, which sold for 300/= per cairn.
Some vendors seem offended by the idea of being photographed. They're business people and not a tourist attraction after all, and so I was a bit skittish about asking or taking pictures without also offering some remuneration, but I did also take this picture of bags of spices, unidentified. I have no idea what the brown grounds are.
I bought some cauliflower, the first I’d seen in Kampala, from another man. Teopista had no idea what cauliflower was, so I was at least able to tell her something!
Lots of people calling out to me, “Mazungu!” but in that setting I didn’t feel bad about ignoring the calls. I would have liked to buy some rice there, maybe some peas, but Teopista was moving along and I didn’t feel right about being leisurely about all this.
We went through the open air fish market where a man was hacking away at a huge fish, a tuna, I’m guessing. There were lots of very tiny silver fish that I asked Teopista about; called matote, or something like that, piled high in bins and dried, scooped out with tin cups. Long eely fish that were placed on the block in a serpentine manner.
And then back through the hard goods again. Teopista said that on Saturdays, you can’t even move it’s so crowded at Nakawa Market. I can believe it. It was crowded enough today. I'm mighty grateful to Teopista for taking me. For one, I don't think I would have dared try it on my own. For another, all I would have seen were the cheap plastic items facing the street. I doubt I would have made it as far as the spectacle of the food market. I wondered at the time why Teopista was taking the trouble to show me this, but then, if the roles were reversed, I would do the same thing, showing something authentic to my home and yet spectacular. I feel very fortunate to be here in a role that gives me guides who aren't interested in me as a tourist but as a visitor or a guest.
From the recipe page of the Friday newspaper
I want you to know that the only reason I’m not making this is because it is Expressly Forbidden in Scripture (Lev. 17:10ff).
Blood in onions and tomatoes
Blood is rich in iron and protein. It is normally collected when an animal is slaughtered.
Ingredients
1 litre of blood
2 tomatoes
1 onion
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cooking oil
100-150 ml water
Preparation
Collect the blood and leave it to settle for at least 30 minutes.
Drain out the liquid plasma after the blood has solidified.
Put the blood in a saucepan.
Skin and cut tomatoes.
Chop the onions.
Heat the oil and fry the onions till tender and golden brown.
Add the tomatoes.
Add salt and curry powder.
Add blood.
Using a whisk or mingling stick, stir and beat to break the lump and avoid burning.
Add water and cook for 10 to 15 minutes.
Serve hot with any bread.
***
More seriously, though, what does this recipe say about people’s lives here? The main ingredient is “rich in iron and protein,” as the article says, and probably less expensive than meat. It’s something to get you through the day with a reasonable amount of nourishment, I imagine.
Blood in onions and tomatoes
Blood is rich in iron and protein. It is normally collected when an animal is slaughtered.
Ingredients
1 litre of blood
2 tomatoes
1 onion
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cooking oil
100-150 ml water
Preparation
Collect the blood and leave it to settle for at least 30 minutes.
Drain out the liquid plasma after the blood has solidified.
Put the blood in a saucepan.
Skin and cut tomatoes.
Chop the onions.
Heat the oil and fry the onions till tender and golden brown.
Add the tomatoes.
Add salt and curry powder.
Add blood.
Using a whisk or mingling stick, stir and beat to break the lump and avoid burning.
Add water and cook for 10 to 15 minutes.
Serve hot with any bread.
***
More seriously, though, what does this recipe say about people’s lives here? The main ingredient is “rich in iron and protein,” as the article says, and probably less expensive than meat. It’s something to get you through the day with a reasonable amount of nourishment, I imagine.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Football
I've decided I need a football team--Premier League, I mean, a.k.a. soccer. Every day as I walk to work I pass a chalkboard posting who's playing at what time (often odd times as we are at GMT+3). The football matches are on televisions wherever you go, and radios blare games with Luganda commentary (very odd when the only words that make sense are "Chelsea" and "Arsenal"). So I've decided to do some research and pick a team to follow. If you have recommendations, I would be glad to hear them. Otherwise, I will keep you posted.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Take 2
Yesterday was one of those days that by 2:00 I decided was never actually going to happen and I might as well give up and go home. I got to the office where there was no power. When the power came back, there was no internet connection. I was supposed to meet the loan officer at 10:00 to go visit borrowers and she arrived at noon. She didn't want to head out to our far distant destination without confirming that the center administrator had called them to let them know we were coming (since she has to pay her own transportation costs, this makes a lot of sense; no point in going for no reason). The center administrator hadn't arrived, the loan officer's phone needed charging (she had no power at home) and I was out of minutes so we couldn't call. When the center administrator arrived, we learned he hadn't called the borrowers' office. The loan officer and I rescheduled our visit for Friday and I called it a day.
One of the things Uganda is teaching me is how many things are simply out of my hands. A while back, Peter and I were going to visit the director of another MFI (microfinance institution) and got stuck in a jam (as they call it here). We were at a dead stop sitting in this matatu with our meeting starting in 10 minutes and I found myself thinking, "Oh well." Nothing I could do about it anyway. And we got there late where the man we were meeting was just finishing up with someone else and it was fine. But even if it wasn't, making the traffic go faster, turning on the power, connecting to the internet, arranging the loan officer's arrival, and so much else is out of my control. Nothing to do but do what I can and observe what's around me.
One of the things Uganda is teaching me is how many things are simply out of my hands. A while back, Peter and I were going to visit the director of another MFI (microfinance institution) and got stuck in a jam (as they call it here). We were at a dead stop sitting in this matatu with our meeting starting in 10 minutes and I found myself thinking, "Oh well." Nothing I could do about it anyway. And we got there late where the man we were meeting was just finishing up with someone else and it was fine. But even if it wasn't, making the traffic go faster, turning on the power, connecting to the internet, arranging the loan officer's arrival, and so much else is out of my control. Nothing to do but do what I can and observe what's around me.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Ndere Center
If you are ever in Kampala, I highly recommend that you attend a performance at the Ndere Center in Ntinda (www.ndere.com). A member of Life in Africa told me I should go, and I went, thinking it would be a little local thing. No, indeed. It was a drop-dead professional performance, something I could readily imagine at Zellerbach, held in this beautiful outdoor ampitheater with hills in the background (and as night fell, lightning flashing behind the hills).
Not only was it a beautiful setting, they served terrific food as well. Long tables were set up all around the ampitheater and discreet waiters came by to take our orders for drink and food, or you could go to the buffet if you wanted. I ordered fish and chips, not expecting that the fish would be served head, tail, scales and all. Delicious, and obviously fresh.
The Ndere Troupe performed for over three hours, featuring dances from all over Uganda, with different costumes for each. The picture below shows a dance in which the women started each with a single jar on her head. Then two jars. Then three. Then four...I really wish I could have a better picture to show you, but I think you get the idea.
They even had all of us mazungos dance. The troupe director invited people from each nationality down on the ampitheater floor. We shook hands with each other, and then we danced in a circle--well, jiggled, mostly. One of the troupe members pulled me to the middle of the circle on the ampitheater floor. All I can say is that I tried to pretend like there was no one watching, as the saying goes. It didn't work very well.
I wish to point out that the people from the UK steadfastly refused to come down for this part of the evening. Part of imperial privilege, perhaps? Or are they just smarter than the Aussies and the Americans?
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