Rainy Season Begins

Friday, February 17th, 2012

Caught in the Rain

Unlike in Zanzibar where when you ask people they will confidently tell you that the rainy season begins on March 21st, there is no official start date for the rainy season in Uganda. However, everything said that it started near the beginning of March. So it was that this fine day in February that my tale begins. 

Our little home of three had run out of toilet paper, and as this is something which can only be bought in Masaka, Heather and I went out to get the toilet paper. Dropped off at Smart Shoppers we made our way to the man around the corner who sells toilet paper at 13,000 Sh instead of 15,000 Sh and made our way back to Smart Shoppers to oggle the junk food. There were Oreos and Pringles and sweets and even drinking chocolate; things we rarely saw. We bought the Oreos and the Pringles and even some chocolate. Real chocolate, not drinking chocolate. More importantly, however, I also bought myself and 18.5 L jug of water. As we made our way out of the checkout, we noticed a bit of a drizzle. It was the very first we had seen of rain since we had left Vancouver. 

“I hope Joseph is still coming,” I said to Heather as we looked outside. People were heading for cover and bodas were rushing frantically to find somewhere dry to stop. I told her that we should just find one and go. 

“Uh… I don’t really want to go in the rain. We should take a cab,” she said. For a couple minutes I argued that we should just take the boda and bear it; after all, taxis were expensive and what was a little rain? We were from Vancouver. 

A while later the rain was a bit harder. “Yeah, we should just go,” Heather said. A moment later I said I was fine with a cab. We went to one of the staff hanging around at the entrance with us and asked them if they would help us get a taxi.

“Eh…” the man said, “No one is driving right now. You can’t get a taxi.” 

Looking out onto the street, we could suddenly see why. The streets were running with a river of brown water and rain beat at windshields. The rain was intense, like I had only seen once before. Rain in Uganda is not like rain in Vancouver. In Vancouver rain is a constant presence. If it’s not trickling down from the sky, its clouds are hanging overhead to remind you that the rain will soon be trickling down. In Uganda the rain comes fast, and it comes hard. If you have ever seen rain in a Bollywood movie you know what rain is like in Uganda. If you have ever even seen rain in a Hollywood movie, where they turn on giant taps in the studio’s ceiling so that the rain will show up on film, but where it’s clearly raining too hard to be real, that’s what rain is like in Uganda. Thunder crashes and lightning flashes and rain is hard and everywhere. 

So, because everyone was hiding under shelter and not a vehicle was on the street, we stayed in the supermarket. We sat down on upside down cartons that the staff pulled out for us and began eating our Oreos and our Pringles waiting for the rain to end.

Leila was waiting for us to get back for the kid’s program, so we watched on guiltily, but there was nothing we could do. When we finally did get back we took a taxi as the bodas weren’t yet running again, and it made it far easier to lug around the 18.5 L bottle of water. On a sidenote, we both got stomachaches from the Oreos and Pringles and I don’t think I could eat either ever again. Okay, maybe a Pringle, but Oreos make me want to puke.

P7 and the Wimpy Kid Problem

For our Primary 7 class on Friday, we thought we would try reading a different novel with them. We had been reading Akimbo and the Lion in previous weeks, but as we had reached the second chapter and nothing was happening still, we worried that the kids would be bored. Akimbo and the Lion is a story about a little boy somewhere in Africa (the exact location is vague and not mentioned) whose father is a ranger and who takes him on an adventure to help a farmer whose cows have been killed by what the farmer suspects is a lion. Instead, we decided to read A Diary of a Wimpy kid. However, we found that despite our enthusiastic reading, the story was meeting far too many blank looks and bored stares. Cooties? Assigned seating? A diary (and what was the difference between a diary and a journal?)? And why did this little boy care so much about whether he was popular? Clearly that especially, at least in the way in which it has been constructed in North America, is quite foreign. The story just had absolutely no cultural relevance. It was a great story, a story that is very funny, but for kids back home. After all, the reason for its hilarity is its pitch-perfect way that it mocks and understands growing up for North Americans. 

This, I’ve discovered, is an important problem for the library. It’s important to find books that are not only good and engaging, but which are books which are close enough to the real lives of the people who are here that they can connect with them enough to want to read them. After all, that’s why we read, isn’t it? We read to understand different dimensions of our world and to learn and feel. And yet, it’s so much easier to do these things when you are seeing your own world and not the world of someone else.

What is the point of this? I suppose, maybe, it’s a request that if you donate a book to somewhere in Africa, make it relevant. Additionally, a request that you understand that just because it’s your world doesn’t mean that same world is even the slightest bit familiar or relevant to someone else, or more importantly, that you don’t assume that it should be.

After, we asked the kids which book they liked better. Their answer was unanimous: Akimbo.

Weekend in Jinja

That weekend we went to Jinja. It was mostly a chill weekend, but a lot of fun, and it didn’t turn out anything like I expected it to.

Um, February... Good month.

Tuesday, February 7th, 2012

Julius’s Group and the Secondary School Students

Twice a week on Thursday and Tuesday mornings, Julius, who works with us, is a research assistant for professor at Long Island University. Check out the links below for more information about his work for Professor Geoff studying the relationship between families and reading culture.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkAWR9zDhpU&feature=youtu.be

http://vimeo.com/37483491

 Primary 5 and Daudi’s Dream

With the Primary 5 class we read a story called Daudi’s Dream. Before, we had only been reading Akimbo and the Lion by Alexander McCall Smith, but we thought that for this class (we found that the younger classes had a bit of trouble with the chapter book by McCall-Smith) we would read them a picture book. For a picture book Daudi’s Dream is relatively long with three chapters, but it looked really good. It was about a small boy named Daudi whose family was very poor and they didn’t have enough money to buy food. His mother mentions that she used to have a sewing machine but she had to sell it, and Daudi vows that he will buy his mother a sewing machine so that she can support the family. He does this by collecting bottle caps and getting money back for him. The rest of the story is about his trials and successes in doing so. We only got to the first part of the story on this day. 

For me it was difficult to read this story to the kids, because although it was at their level and it was a story they could relate to, I felt bad when I looked in some of their eyes and I could see that the story really hit home. They connected to it like I hadn’t seen kids connect to other stories, but it broke my heart because when we read about Daudi being hungry, they understood. Later though I asked Dan what he thought, if it was bad of us to read this story, he told me that no, it was good. People need to hear stories that they can relate to, even if the stories are sad.

Thinking back on it, I agree. Hearing stories about people who are like you gives you another lens through which to see your own life, but more importantly it shows that your story matters. You matter. Your life matters. It isn’t just something that has no place in the world, but something as significant as the stories about rich white children in West with their blonde hair and their apples. That may have sounded bitter, but this is a cause I have come to have a lot of empathy for. 

Women’s Group B - English and Computers (Go Pheonah!)

This week with the women’s group our theme was Clothing. We did vocabulary, wrote a dialogue about going to the tailor’s, wrote a short segment, and then did it all with the women. Before, as per usual, the women worked on typing on the computers. 

Friday, February 10th, 2012

Vienna

On our way to visit Julius we accidentally chanced upon a place called Vienna. It serves casual drinks and is very nice. We had a lot of fun dancing to muzungu music while no one else seemed to care that it was playing and then sitting and chatting a bit too close to the speakers. Great night; I preferred it to Ambiance.

Saturday, February 11th, 2012

We didn’t do much this Saturday. It was my mother’s yartzeit and I lit the candles in the evening.

Tuesday, February 14th, 2012

Valentine’s Day (Ten Tables and Vienna)

Valentine’s Day was wonderful. Dan and Amelia went in the evening out to dinner somewhere in town. Amelia wanted to go somewhere that served tilapia; it’s her favorite fish. We went to Ten Tables, which we had visited once before. Ten Tables is a wonderful place. Downstairs there is a restaurant with, surprise, 10 tables. We always go upstairs, however, where there is a rooftop terrace. There are four or so palappas with tables underneath, and lit by small paper bags filled by sand. 

Every night they have a set menu, which ensures that the food is not only there, but fresh. A three course meal costs 20,000 Sh ($8.14 CAD), and it’s ridiculously good. That night there was an option of the full course and wine. 

We had soup accompanied by the yummiest pastry, mashed potatoes and this beef thing. 

I think my favorite part was the flowers that we were given by the owner. All of the women got one, and it was really cute because those who gave out the flowers went around and asked the women beforehand if it was okay to make sure that no one was offended.

Wednesday, February 15th, 2012

Prep Work

We did some prep work for the next week - which was all about nutrition with the women's group, as well as some information about the benefits of goat's milk. Interestingly enough, although so many people own goats, goats' milk isn't drunk very much. Apparently this is due to a combination of stigma (people think it tastes goaty) and practicality (local goats don't produce much milk, and foreign goats are sometimes very sensitive to the sun and the like). Anyways, we did vocab and pictures and research etc. all day. 

Thursday, February 16th, 2012

Blessed Foster Family Foundation for Volunteers

BFFF is a big project. Rather, it is a multitude of projects. I am going to try and summarize them all here, but I am writing this a month after I went. We met with Prince, who is one of the founders of the organization. Happily, BFFF is a locally run and started organization. It isn’t too far from the library; only about 5-10 minutes on a boda.

Among the services they offer is, surprisingly, a newly opening guesthouse. There are only a few rooms, but it is a good income-generating project. 

There is also a daycare for orphaned children. Prince wants to turn it into an orphanage, but he doesn’t currently have the resources. People come in and teach the children during the day, hoping to give them access to education. They also have a period during each day where they can play and run around, much like P.E. or perhaps recess back at home. 

They are currently building a health care clinic. There is also a station where people can get easy, close access to affordable filtered and clean water. What is affordable? Only 150 Shillings for 1 full jerry can of water (That’s about CAD $0.06 - not that it matters. Most people where we were don’t earn enough for that to be as cheap as we consider it. However, it is WAY cheaper than the alternative, which is about 1,000-1,500 Sh.)

They also have a small library, which is how they came to be part of the Uganda Community Library Association, where we first met Prince.

There is also a sewing training center where women can practice their sewing skills so that they can learn to be tailors and the like.

New to the project on the self-sustaining end is a pub and bar. We ate there for lunch, and it was really good. They serve the usual fare; squash, beans, cabbage, and rice. They also have drinks like sodas and beer.

On the side, Prince also builds energy saving stoves. These stoves are actually pretty cool. While most people may cook over an open fire, if you use one of these stoves it keeps the heat in and saves energy. Here especially saving energy really matters. Energy in this case is not some sort of magical electrical current that comes in and out when you flip a switch. The energy involved is wood, wood that you actually have to find and get yourself. 

Oftentimes it is schoolchildren who have to get the wood for the stoves after school. Usually they have to walk for a long time, sometimes many kilometers to get the wood. Adding on this is that this is sometimes after a long day of school, and long walks to and from school (which are sometimes over 10 kilometers!). (On a side note, this is why some people are advocating growing fast-growing trees around one’s property line. If you grow these trees, often within a year you will have access to wood to use for stoves.)

Anyhow, my point is that saving energy with stoves is a big deal, and these stoves even have places to put your pots easily.

Several pigs are also being raised for breeding and food purposes. Prince plans to sell the pigs as an income-generating project. Apparently pigs can be quite a good source of income.

Also, not too far away in the village center they are currently building a micro finance center. It’s the red building in the picture.

BFFF currently supports the education of many students, giving them scholarships and financial help to go to school. 

In the future, Prince also hopes to begin a university on his absolutely massive plot of land not too far away. It’s the area we always pass on our way to Masaka, and it’s beautiful. We took an unnatural amount of photos. 

Clearly, there is a lot going on at BFFF. Most of the programs are run by volunteers, many of whom are international, but some of whom are local, like Pheonah, who also comes to the women’s group at the library. The funding comes from a mix of international donors and income-generating projects. Prince aims to eventually be self-sustainable, however, hence the pub and bar, the piggery, etc. It’s hard to do all of these things, there isn’t a lot of money going around, sometimes there is a lack of volunteers or support, but there is a lot of passion in the project. Prince is clearly very passionate, people are involved, and there is a lot going on.

Weekend in Kampala

Saturday, February 4th, 2012

Kampala - Bus and Snacks

To get to Kampala at a reasonable hour we woke up at 6:00 AM and called Joseph as well as another boda. When we got into town we stopped outside of Julius’s house so that he could show us to the bus park - although here they’re apparently called ‘coasters.’ 

The ride to Kampala cost 10,000 Sh, which is about CAD $4.30. The deal is that the bus does not leave until it is full. It does not matter the time, it just goes when it’s full, and you pay about 30 minutes before you arrive. The ride itself is about 2-6 hours, depending on traffic. We were lucky this time and it was only about 4 hours. 

Heather and I quickly got some snacks for the ride, including some muffin type things and some stale crackers and water. Later, after getting on, we scampered out to go to the bathroom, which was 200 shillings each. It was quite dirty, so for the rest of the ride we were both saying, “Don’t touch x, y, and z with your feet because they’re dirty from the bathroom!” We weren’t sure you even had to pay until the man outside, who we thought was a janitor or something of the sort, stopped us and told us we had to pay.

It was another half hour or so before we actually left. Otherwise it was completely uneventful, except for the man who came onboard for about twenty minutes and tried to sell us his dodgy looking medicine. People were outside of our windows trying to sell their wares, and despite her weekend-long curiosity about the Strawberry Fanta, Heather didn’t buy any. 

An interesting thing about the buses is that they use up every bit of space. When everyone has settled in the side seats, they pull down another seat that looks like an armrest on the right side and people sit in that seat. This results in absolutely no walking space. You want to get out? Sorry, you can’t. You’re trapped until the end of the bus ride. Not that it really makes a different anyway -- where are you supposed to go? The bathroom? Nope, there isn’t one. May as well just sit.

Like Kara, we also had a chicken friend, but luckily it was far behind us and not next to us. But we did also have sacks of something on the floor that made it difficult to walk even when the seats were up.

Julie and Lydia

When we arrived at the New City Annex Hotel, the same place that we stayed for our orientation, we were at reception when the woman said, “Oh, the other two girls just checked in.”

The three of us just laughed, “No, no- it’s just us this time,” thinking that she just meant some other mzungus. 

Later, when we were eating in the hotel restaurant downstairs, two figures appeared out of the corner of my eye. “Hi!” I said excitedly, because there to my right were Julie and Lydia. The woman hadn’t been wrong after all. In fact, she had a good memory. 

They sat down and chatted with us. They had left for Kampala at 6, versus our 8, and had arrived at 10 versus our 12. They were on their way to eat at an Ethiopian restaurant (to our dismay - we had already ordered) and then they were going to the Mango Palace, a historic tourist destination where Idi Amin tortured people. 

It was so awesome to see them, and such a surprise, too!

Plane Ticket Fail

After lunch Heather, Leila, and I went to the ticket office for flights around the corner. Despite having to get our bags checked in security, write down our phone numbers (We didn’t know ours, so Heather ended up just writing a random number down. I hadn’t realized so I said, “Wow, I’m so impressed that you know your phone number,” for which I received a glare.) and other information, we still found the office closed. 

Everything was closed. It was a Saturday, and apparently, against our initial thoughts the travel agency was closed. You’d think that they’d be open on a Saturday, when most of their potential clients would be available to book tickets, but no. 

We had to go to the bank quickly for Leila, and then we boda’d up to the other travel agencies, which ended up being so close and Leila went to the Mango Palace with Lydia and Julie. The travel agencies that Heather and I went to were all closed as well. 

It was the entire point of coming to Kampala in the first place, so we were slightly annoyed. So, like good Canadian girls, we decided to treat ourselves to frappes. 

Fraps (and shopping)

While the other three girls went and educated themselves about Ugandan history, Heather and I got a frappe at Bimbo, an American-style restaurant that serves cold drinks, ice cream, and pizzas and burgers. 

We both ordered frappes. Mine came out first. It was lukewarm. “We have no ice,” said the waiter, a tallish guy around our age with a lisp. 

“Okay,” I replied. Sure, I had hoped my frappe would be cold, but if they have no ice, they have no ice.

About 5, 10 minutes later, Heather’s frappe comes out. It has ice. Wait, what? But the guy told me they had no ice! So we drag him back and spend the next five minutes trying to explain that they must actually have ice, because they made my drink first when they supposedly didn’t have ice, but Heather’s had ice and hers came out second. So there must be ice, and I wanted some. It was the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had with a waiter before (not to mention a ridiculous problem, and a ridiculous one to care about, but I really wanted some ice… It only made sense), and both Heather and I were laughing by the end of it. Even the waitress who eventually sorted out the problem was giggling a bit. 

I must admit, it’s very funny. What’s also funny is what you care about, and how much you care about those things you care about. When is it ridiculous? When do you leave it? And when do seemingly stupid things suddenly become extremely important?

After frappes we went into the mall. On the side of the road some guy came and tried to sell us sunglasses. “No, we don’t want them,” we said, but the guy was insistent. Finally Heather said, “Five thousand” (Shillings - CAD $2.15) And after a few minutes of bargaining he actually said yes. We didn’t want sunglasses, but we both bought them at 5,000 Sh. I wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity. Also, there was another guy trying to get in on the deal, and he wasn’t happy when the price we set was 5,000 Sh. However, he still sold them to us at that price. I was happy he did, because he had a nice pair of fake Dior sunglasses that I liked.

It wasn’t a long walk, but by the time we got to the mall we were already craving frappes again. We set ourselves down in the coffee shop in the middle of Garden City mall and got another set of frappes. They were amazing, far better than the ones at Bimbo. 

Frappes are actually a lot better in Uganda than in Canada. For one thing, they use actual milk and real ingredients. They don’t taste like preservatives. They don’t feel slimy from the whipped cream. They aren’t hyper sweet. They’re just straight up amazing.

Anyways, after we went to the book store. I told Heather that I felt at home there, and we spent a fair bit of time just looking at the books. Heather had to convince me not to buy anything. I had to save for my trip to Tanzania. 

Later, the two of us went to Woolworths. “This is home to me,” said Heather, looking over the clothes.

Dinner and Dance

For dinner we went to a very nice Indian restaurant on the top of the Garden City Mall. After, we went dancing. Watching everyone dance, knowing exactly how to move, while the music confounded our ears and our limbs, was the first time Heather and I felt truly like ‘Others.’ The music was so different from what we were used to, and so was the dancing, and people were looking through us as though we weren’t there. Usually, mzungus draw attention to themselves like a fire in a forest whether through their dress, mannerisms, language or, as it most common, the color of their skin. When this happens people usually wanted to speak to us, to get to know the foreigners or to see if one can get something from them. When we were dancing, or not dancing but sitting against the wall, as it were, it was as though we were not there at all. Non-people, because everyone there was there to socialize with each other. Or, at least, so it felt. It was interesting and worthwhile, I suppose, because everyone should know how it feels to feel like an Other once in a while.

However, it changed soon when a group of friends all living in Kampala invited us to their table to chat. That was fun, and soon as they tried to drive the crowds out they began to play American music. Like a charm, the crowds began to peter away and we began to dance the way we knew how.

Later, when we danced again, we learned to copy the way people moved and bobbed and danced, which made it easier and much more fun, for me at least. 

Sunday, February 5th, 2012

The Bus Home - Transmission Failure Etc.

Our last day in Kampala was a lot of fun, but on our way home we had a bit of a transmission failure. It was dark and we had to find a minibus that would take us. We were supposed to pay for half but then Heather and I went to the bathroom, not realizing that the guy would be gone when we came back. Anyhow, our first option of transport was a cattle car. Leila knew it was safe because the woman she had been sitting next to on the bus had gotten on it, and she said it was fine. However, we accidentally paid the wrong people as there was a huge swarm around us trying to get us to pay, and we weren’t able to get on. A minibus finally came around and let us on. We were so relieved. When we finally got to Masaka and Joseph picked us up we were so excited to see him. He managed to take all three of us and our bags on his motorcycle. 

Now, don’t worry (I’m talking to you, Dad…). This sort of thing doesn’t happen often. We have taken buses before and since and that has not happened again. Even at the time it was nothing even close to dire. There were other options we could take and we got home just fine. Everything was alright, and we weren’t the only ones who needed an extra ride, so it wasn’t as though we were left completely lost. It was really no big deal in my eyes, just a delay.