July 12

July 12
Scovia, Happiness, Viola and I went to Kampala yesterday. Scovia told me the night before that we would leave right after breakfast. In true Ugandan style however, she, Viola and Alica started washing clothes at about 9:30AM and finished at 1230PM. At 145PM they were dressed and ready to go. There seems to be no sense of time in this culture. There is certainly no sense of urgency.

The ride to Kampala was once again awful. The dust and dirt that came through the windows was overwhelming. At times I just closed my eyes and held my breath. Once in Kampala there is less dust and dirt, but the air is black/yellow. Even Scovia commented that she was “worried about her nose” and kept the baby’s head covered whenever possible.

Kampala is a giant stinking mass of humanity. A human gumball. A gum wad that smells of body odor, diesel fuel, pollution and dust. There were times that I literally could not move on the sidewalk. No stoplights, no street or traffic signs, gazillions of cars and bikes and motorcycles and humans. Once or twice I felt myself start to panic in the gridlock of humanity. In one place there was space 3 feet wide that ran for about a block. One side was lined with sheets of tin where a wall had once been. On the other side was a tall brick wall that looked as tho it could have crumbled any minute (and it was here that I thought of Isaac saying so many buildings in Kampala have fallen down!) We walked through this long, dusty passageway in the heat with people coming the other direction AND the ever present surprise 3-foot deep holes in the ground to jump over). I started to panic but got myself under control. There was no getting out of this human quagmire anywhere in Kampala. My backpack was opened twice (sorry fellas, the money is in a money belt ON me!). I was grabbed and pulled and screamed at by what Scovia referred to as “a mad woman”. Scovia finally grabbed my other arm and pulled me behind a truck until the woman wandered off (more likely she was pushed some direction).

There are posters on every telephone pole and building side. Two of my favorites were plentiful: “Get an American Sponsor (followed by a telephone number)” and “Shape Your Bum”.

To get back to Mukono one must go to the Taxi Park and find a taxi . The taxi park is 200+ vans parked in no particular order, in a tiny area, with little space between vehicles. The vans aren’t even parked in rows. They are just in there any way they can fit themselves. After squeezing ourselves between vehicles and rows for 20 minutes we found one going to Mukono. Once the van is at LEAST full, one sits there until the driver can pull out. The driver pulls out by honking, threatening, cutting off other vans and people between the vans. Our driver starts singing the Ugandan national anthem and everyone laughs.

Once on the road we see a military blockade ahead and the driver pulled a quick right to a detour around them. Whenever one sees a sign that says “No Stopping, No Parking, No Photographs” you know the military is nearby somewhere and steer clear. More dust and smoke on the long ride home. The scene on both sides of the road are an unending parade of babies, toddlers, smoke, poverty, dirt, trash, babies, toddlers, more toddlers, horrendous poverty…I blew my nose and it blew black snot.

The Catholic Church as big here, as is the Morman Church and about 20 others.. The Morman Church is in fact the only building around that has grass on the property rather than red dirt and mud. Here is my message for the Catholic and Morman churches (I don’t know what the Muslims are saying), and all other churches who come to Africa spread the Good Word: Until you are ready to commit to living here FOREVER, have yourselves entire litters of children, and live on a Ugandan’s salary, stop denouncing family planning and telling these people that children are a gift from God. Twelve children and no way to feed them is no gift. Of course missionaries will always be welcome everywhere that abject poverty is prevalent. If I were a Ugandan living in what can only be described as dehumanizing conditions, I too would embrace any concept that allowed me to believe that there was a better life waiting for me somewhere. In fact I would be in a hurry for it.

We got off the taxi in Mukono and I hired two boda bodas to take us to the village. Viola and I were on one, and Scovia and the baby on the other. Viola and I passed by a truck that had men standing on top throwing shovelfuls of oiled dirt to the street below, to fill potholes. As our boda drove alongside, we were treated to a shovel full of oily dirt over our heads. That truly capped off the day.

If I didn’t have to go back through Kampala to get to Entebbe and the airport tonight, I would go home.

* * *

By the way, it is morning now and I have bathed and blown the black snot out of my nose. My hair is still full of dirt but having had a rest, I am no longer ready to come homeJ

July 9??

July Something. Maybe the 9th.

I left early this morning for the Golden Crane Hotel (Read: six rooms) to purchase a shower. The sky was overcast but I could never have imagined it held the amount of moisture I was to witness later.

I have a new advertisement for Osmotics Shampoo that the company should consider marketing to western women traveling in third world nations:
“Ladies, has your hair recently been treated with a fistful of axel grease intended for African hair and you find it less than appealing? After 8 days and four washings, does your hair still catch thoughtless insects in its waxy web? Does your hair feel like the floor looks after a tent revival? Then try Osmotics Shampoo! Osmotics Shampoo leaves your hair looking and feeling vaguely like it did before you left home. A bargain at any price!!!”

Every time I am at the Golden Crane Hotel I wish I had been placed there instead of my current abode. Even though it is rudimentary by most anyone’s standards, it has a shower and it is quiet. It also has a small “office” where I can buy a coke….which is what I did after my shower. When I turned off the shower water I heard a tremendous noise that turned out to be Biblical Style Rain pounding down on the tin roof. I got dressed and stood on the veranda and watched absolute sheets of rain pour for the next 40 minutes. I hot footed it through the rain to the “office” and asked if they had coffee. Nope. Coke? Always. Did I want my Coke warm or cold?



This picture above is the outcome of the combination of Biblical Rain and Hellish Heat.


This is Nabitaka Jowanita who attends Nsambwe Village Primary School. She is 10 years old and asked if I could find an American girl friend to write to her. Nabitake has no paper so any new friend will need to send both paper and self addressed stamped envelope.


This is Happiness being bathed by Scovia. The beaded belt around her center was put on her shortly after birth and is intended to make her grow a waist. If it works I am going to make a beaded belt for myself and hope my waist returns…

This evening (evening means anything after about 2PM) we went to Lwanyonyi Primary School. These children are among the poorest, their parents being “peasant farmers.” We first walked enough uphill miles that I wished I hadn’t wasted my highly infrequent shower at the Golden Crane on this particular day. We then waited in the sun for a taxi for 15 minutes, followed by some hard bargaining with two boda boda drivers for the last 3 miles of the trip which were too rough for a car. FINALLY, I rode one boda boda with Ronnie, and Isaac and Tony were on the other. Our particular driver was, I think, bent on bouncing me off the back. He never once braked for pot holes or deep ruts. Debbie Sorenson, if you are reading this take heed: I will not only ride your dirt bike when I get back, I’ll race you and I’ll beat you!

We lost Isaac and Tony only to find out later that their boda boda couldn’t climb the hill with three of them so Tony had to run up the hill next to the motorcycle. He got back on at the top of the hill, but the driver gave them no discount for the inconvenience. This place cracks me up.

This school is so far out that the parents hand-built this schools themselves with a small bit of government money. They are trying now to raise money to build facilities for the teachers to sleep in during the week. It is difficult and expensive for teachers to get to the school and therefore difficult to find teachers able and willing to teach out there.

Once at school we met Headmaster Wilson Bokenya. With Michael Jackson safely buried, the question I am always asked now is “How is Mr. Obama doing?” and Mr. Bokenya asked immediately. Later he wanted to know if George Bush knew how many innocent people his wars cost, and if I thought he cared. (I laughingly think that now I am truly among my people). After a brief discussion I told him that next to my husband, Obama was my man. Wilson grinned and high-fived me.

In the classroom Isaac asked how everyone was doing and got little response. Further questioning led to the admission that many of the children didn’t feel well because they hadn’t eaten in a full day. Interestingly, Ugandan children must bring food to feed the teachers even when some of them haven’t eaten. (As terrible as this is, it isn’t nearly as bad as in northern and eastern Uganda where there is now famine, whether the government wants to formally admit it or not. Floods two years ago followed by drought has killed all crops. People are dying of starvation and pictures of the starving and the dead are often on the front pages of newspapers here).
This little girl answered the question of the day correctly and won our 25,000 Ush school scholarship. We give one to each school we visit. This equates to $10 US and pays for 1/3 of the school year. It does not pay for uniform, shoes, food or supplies. She was thrilled. She was also hungry.

Making bricks in Lwanyonyi

We were far enough out that there were no boda bodas to help us get back to the road. When we finally reached the road, police were everywhere even though we were quite far out of town. Isaac said we needed to be invisible because on Friday nights the police “made the weekend”. “Making the weekend” means stopping drivers and pedestrians and extorting money from them. If you don’t pay them off, or don’t have enough money to pay them off, you can go to jail on trumped up charges. I was told that the police chief often sends his officers out on Friday afternoon and tells them how much money to bring back. I read recently that Kenya is more corrupt than Uganda. Uganda is proud not to be number 1.

Sure enough, the police were stopping people and vehicles. We knew we would have trouble getting a ride back to town because all taxis and cars and boda bodas were afraid to stop near the police and we needed to be sort of invisible. We had to get past the police and down the road to a point that a taxi would stop for us. FINALLY a taxi that was completely full slowed down and the side man held up one finger, indicating they could take one person. Isaac waived him down and talked him into taking all four of us. Picture a nine passenger taxi with 16 people in it. I was in the middle somewhere with a huge bag of something that smelled like hay or grass sharing my lap. Luckily it was only about a 15 minute rideJ

(As I’m writing this Isaac is singing “Billy Sheans Tha’s My Son”, his own version of Michael Jackson’s song “Billy Jean”. George, you and Isaac should get together on your creative musical renditions.)

A house in Lwanyonyi

My old travel hairdryer died several days ago. I put it in a grocery sack and later put other trash on top of it. Yesterday I tied the bag shut and tossed the bag into the bucket where we put all of our trash. This morning Viola told me she was sorry that my hair dryer broke. Now I know the women of this family check all of my trash to see if there is anything salvageable that they can use. I find this a bit disconcerting but I don’t know why it should be. Again, cultural differences.

More photos

This is Scovia's kitchen. As you can see, we remove our shoes before we stand up in the area near the pots.
They all love to see themselves on the digital camera! These kids
are from the village where the well was built. We brought sugar and rice which made us pretty popular.

Uploading takes 9 minutes per pic. There's gotta be a better way!

Scovia and Happiness (age 3 months)

After a boda boda ride in the rain...

Alice

Mukono Town

Kids and getting around on my own!

July 6

This missive may or may not accompany pictures. I am having computer adventures when it comes to sending pictures.

Today I am working on setting up a fundraising plan for BoHU. I am altering what I would normally do in a plan in order to fit the cultural and country differences of which I am aware. Once complete it can be discussed between Isaac, Ronnie, Tony and Helen to make changes and decide upon. This alone is a real adventure for me, and I am enjoying it.

The more I know of Isaac and the more I HEAR about Isaac, the more impressed I become. I’ve heard several stories of how he has visited schools, medical clinics, etc., only to find that the services that are supposed to be free from the government become available to rural villagers only for a fee. Most villagers can’t afford services or medicine. For instance, there was to be money to repair school buildings that have not been repaired. There is supposed to be money for free AIDS medicine, doxycycline for malaria, etc., but the people are charged for it. Again, they have no money so receive no medicine. Corruption is rampant. So Isaac goes to these places occasionally and pretends to be a villager asking for a free service or medicine. He never confronts the individual asking him for the money. Instead he quietly leaves and then goes directly to the Minister of Health or the Minister of Education and asks why these things are not being done or why medications are no longer free. When the Ministers inquire down the line to the person who asked Isaac for the money, they of course deny having asked for a fee. It seems one of the people so identified by a Minister tracked Isaac down and asked why--if he already knew that asking for money was a scam--he didn’t just ask the scammer for “quiet money”. Isaac told him he was an NGO doing charitable work, not a criminal. People in this village and surrounding villages adore him. (Do we need to be reminded that he is only 22 years old?)

Hair. I need to wash my hair more than every 4^th day, especially given the ever present red dust from the roads. I do not exaggerate when I say that my pillow has red dust on it each morning. So…my choices are going to the salon for a shampoo or going to a hotel to purchase a shower. Time being short today I went to the salon in Mukono only to find Hadisha, my earlier hairdresser gone, and a young woman I had never seen there. She agreed to shampoo my hair. I didn’t have my own shampoo and conditioner with me this time so she used her own. I knew I was in trouble as soon as she applied the conditioner. Clearly this conditioner belongs on African hair, not Muzungu hair. Still, I didn’t want to be rude so I said nothing. She wanted to do a nice job so she insisted on drying it and styling it. I told her no curlers (which they love!). So she dried my hair and before I knew what was happening, she had a fist full of the grease/oil they put on their own hair to hold it down. She rubbed it all over my head and then lovingly sculpted my hair into something resembling a plastic helmet. She was delighted with the outcome. I gave her a nice tip and left with more oil in my hair than I had arrived with.

Alice. Sixteen year old Alice is an Eating Machine. She has spent a lifetime not knowing when she gets to eat next so she is catching up now while she is living here. Alice FILLS her plate at least twice at each of our three daily meals and out eats all of us.

Each time I am in Mukono I stop at the grocery store and buy something Isaac and Scovia would never buy for themselves, like yogurt or biscuits. In the evenings I always share whatever I have purchased during the day with Isaac, Scovia, Alice, and Viola. Alice greets me at the road every time I return and slyly checks the bag to see what I have purchased. Last night Alice came to my house and sat down and ate a small bag of Chinese noodles and then hinted that she would like to try my bottled water. During this time we managed to piece together some information about her (remember she doesn’t speak much English and I don’t speak much Luganda). She told me that she has no money for school but that if she did she would want to become a nurse. She has no boyfriend (this makes her blush) and that she wants to be “happy with George someday”. She points at my wedding ring and says “George”. She means that she would like to be “happy with a marriage someday”. So George, if you are reading this, you are now a new American word to be used by hopeful young girls in Nassuuti VillageJ

Today I stopped and purchased Alice her very own roll of biscuits that have chocolate icing on the inside. When I gave them to her she squealed and grinned and held them to her chest as though someone had handed her a gold mine. The biscuits disappeared into the space she shares with Viola at night. I adore Alice and wish I could bottle her up and take her back home with me.

She wants to visit her mother and siblings but it costs more to get to her village even by boda boda than she will earn for a long time. She would like Scovia and I to go with her so that her mother can meet us. She has started calling Scovia “Auntie”. I remain Muzungu or May-Lan. I am certain that she knows that by inviting me, she will get there faster because the muzungu will pay for it.

I took my first and second boda boda ride side-saddle today because I was wearing a dress and could not ride like a man. YeeeeeHAAaaaaa! Side Saddle Motorcycle Woman!!! (I hope not to have to do that again any time soon. I have even higher admiration for all the women I see doing it side-saddle while carrying a baby and a bundle of banana leaves, flying over pot holes at 45MPH!!!) My driver started laughing as he heard me continuously say “Mpola mpola mpola mpola”. Finally, he reached back, took my right arm, wrapped it around his middle…and drove as carefully around pot holes as I ever could have asked for.

Schedule: I will be working in Bushenyi in Western Uganda from Monday July 20 through Friday July 24^th, assisting with a needs assessment on an orphanage over there. Isaac had to close his orphanages due to lack of funds and has placed several of his children with an orphanage in Bushenyi. BoHU continues to pay for and support the orphans there and in Gomba until such time as we can build another facility here. Anyway, we are going over to do a needs assessment on the children. I suspect he also wants to make certain they are all being fed and treated well. I don’t know the state of phone or email communications in Bushenyi so don’t panic if Im not in contact that week.

We will be doing a similar trip August 10 through 14 to Gomba in Central Uganda.

We will do a third trip August 24 through 26^th to Gulu. This trip we will be delivering food and clothing to the people in displacement camps. I may need to beg off of this trip depending on the situation at that time between the Uganda army and a supposed new rebel group based in Acholi called the Uganda People’s Front. The UG government recently found documents on Gulu’s Chairman indicating this new group (the UPF) plans to overthrow the Museveni government. President Museveni is still quietly assessing the threat and considering the response. Hopefully he will let it slide but if he decides to send in the Army to take care of the rebels, then I wont go. As a side note, one of the rebels captured--and one of the principal organizers--has a residence in San Diego. He is Ugandan, received a PhD in political science from the university, and appears to be one of the master minds.

Final quick story: One of my neighbor children returned home from school. He is I am guessing about 8 years old and is learning English and only knows very basic phrases like hello, thank you, good bye. Today I asked him what he learned in school and he gave me this sentence: Science is the study of everything human and all living things. Pretty big jump from hello, good bye, and thank you!

July 7, 2009

Hair again. I have washed it twice now since visiting the salon. It still looks and feels like I have polished my head with WD-40.

Village School. We went to Takajjunge Village for a presentation to the primary school. There were several signs placed in various places around the school yard saying things like “Warning! Anyone can sexually abuse you” and “Sex CAN wait until marriage”. The school yard is very nice with large trees and three school buildings. The school buildings are red clay brick with two large glassless windows on each side. Inside there are early 100 students in each building (we may put 25 in the same space) sitting shoulder to shoulder, feet crossed at the ankle, hands folded in front of them, posture perfect. The desks are about 11” wide and perhaps 5 feet long., each stamped “Hamburg Germany" and crowd 6-9 children to a desk. The kids were from 5^th to 7^th grade.

I am told that Uganda is in such desperate need for teachers that college is free for those becoming teachers. What this policy has produced are a lot of teachers who don’t like children or teaching, are bored, angry, or apathetic. All are highly regimented. Enter Isaac, Ronnie and Tony…all 22 to 24 years old…bent on teaching important subjects not available in the schools and making learning fun. Ronnie teaches personal hygiene, nutrition and malaria prevention—all in the space of about 40 minutes. Isaac teaches life skills--different skills for different age groups, and Ronnie teaches HIV/AIDS prevention.

As I am introduced to the class, they all clap—five hand claps all done in unison. As I stand to introduce myself, the entire class stands. It is difficult for them to stand given their crowded condition. All are in blue uniforms and all have their heads shaved making it difficult to tell girls from boys until they stand, exposing either trousers or skirt. I ask them to sit, talk to them about what I am doing with Beacon of Hope, and sit down. Again…five hand claps all in unison.

Ronnie begins his presentation and the students are all attentive, backs straight/hands folded/ankles crossed. Ronnie asks the class who knows what causes malaria. Obviously a few know but no one raises their hands out of shyness in front of these strangers. From the corner Tony (our AIDS prevention instructor) raises his hand, and Ronnie calls on him. Tony stands, pretends to be shy, and in a falsetto voice answers, “mosquitos”. The class giggles a bit. They loosened up slightly from there and interacted with Ronnie a bit more.

Next it is Isaac’s turn. If Isaac and Tony weren’t doing what they do now, they would have to be comedians. Although all was in Luganda with tiny bits of English thrown in, I could tell by his body language, the faces he made, voice intonations, etc. that he was making a lot of jokes as he taught. The kids are now all jumping up to answer questions and laughing out loud. Isaac tore a single piece of notebook paper into 20 small pieces and gave the pieces to 20 of the children. (That single sheet of paper at had to be accounted for at the BoHU office!) The kids were asked to write down something they would like to have someone else in the room to do for them, and then fold the paper and hand their request to Isaac. As he silently read through the requests he started to make faces and laugh, and the classroom laughed back because some knew what others had secretly written. He then called the authors up one by one to stand in the front of the class. The trick was on the kids…They had to do for the entire class what they had intended to ask someone to do for them. (This is Isaac’s lesson of the day…don’t ask anyone to do anything that you would not do yourself either in school or in work). What most of them had written was, “I want the muzungu to sing and dance for us.” With the tables turned, they had to sing and dance for me in front of the class and it was hysterical. Some just shook their bums at the class, some did their 12 year old version of rap music. The class was screaming and laughing. Very un-school like in Uganda and exactly what these three young men had intended.

Tony was third with his AIDS presentation talk which was also highly interactive. Isaac ended our visit with a group prayer and then instructed them all to stand and face away from us and concentrate on a spot on the roof. Once they were all looking the other way, the four of us ducked and ran from the classroom. When the kids saw us outside they realized they had been tricked and crowded to the windows to wave and yell goodbye.

There is an innocence here that would never be found in American schools or American children. Innocence, a deep regard for authority, and an overwhelming desire to learn. For the most part, American children are lacking those things on one level or another.

Girls stuff. Scovia came over yesterday to deliver my clean clothes and noticed all of the paraphernalia I have sitting on top of my suitcase. (I use my suitcase as a table for lack of any furniture). In truth, what is sitting out is my soap, toothbush, moisturizer, vitamins, etc. But Scovia asked, “your makeup?” I told her no, and pulled out the little bag of make up I brought with me but had not yet opened. Scovia sat down for a visit and asked to see what I have—eye shadow, eye pencil, lipstick, brushes, and face powder. We put the eye shadow on her and she liked it. Then she took the powder brush and ran it all over her face. I handed her the powder and told her it would be too light but that she was welcome to try it. The cover to the powder is clear plastic. Scovia proceeded to dab the brush on the plastic cover and then run the brush over her face. When I opened the cover for her she was slightly embarrassed. She said she would like to wear my makeup when the two of us go shopping in Kampala, and she would like to apply it herself. (I told her previously that she and I would go to Kampala and I will buy her a pair of sunglasses. She has so much trouble with dust in her eyes that I have already given her my eye wash and eye moisturizer. I think wearing glasses while on the road will help her a lot. Then we will have lunch in a restaurant.) Anyway, in coming weeks there will be a newly glamorized Scovia going to Kampala. I may even wear makeup myself

July 8

I am walking into Mukono by myself today…my first solo venture! Isaac is gone, Scovia has stomach pains, and Alice is afraid the boys will tease her if she is be seen with the Muzungu. I’ve made the trip often enough now that I know how to do this. So….Hasta la bye-bye amigos!

My solo flight: My first solo trip into town was uneventful with a couple of exceptions. The locals--especially the boda boda guys-- try to charge me double or triple because being white, I am obviously rich to them. When I am with Scovia I sometimes pay the higher fee so that there is no trouble. When I am with Isaac, they rarely try to charge more money. The one time a boda boda man tried charging too much, Isaac seemed to physically grow in size. Isaac told him no and when the man protested, he simply stared him down as if to say “don’t even think of causing trouble’” So after I did my shopping I decided to bargain with a driver before I hopped on. I knew that the trip should cost about 50 Ush, but the drivers all wanted 2,000. I started to walk home. Finally several started yelling “okay okay okay” which I assumed meant someone would take my 1,000 Ush offer. The driver was happy with his 1000 Ush rider. He should be. I still paid at least double.

I went to buy phone time and one of the young men in the store told me he was going to America. When I asked when, he said he didn’t know. When I asked him where in America he was visiting, he said he was going with me to wherever I live. I told him my husband would not be happy. He said he understood and asked for my husband’s telephone number. Don’t worry George, I didn’t give it to him.

I guess the moral of the story is that if a female muzungu is moving about alone in Uganda she should be prepared to stand her ground with boda boda drivers and telephone phone card salesmen.

Here is the best: I bought an old, used Danielle Steel book to read in the evenings. The others all get together and gossip in Luganda and I have nothing to do for several hours each evening. I am tired of the newspaper as it is all political threats and name calling. So tonight I will climb into bed with my headlamp and read my love story published in 1991J

We left at 2p to talk with a group of about 120 children at Nsambwe Village Primary School which was held in the Nsambwe Village Church of Uganda chapel—about 6 miles away. The team rewards the children for getting some of the answers right and since there is so little to reward them with…one of the children won a dinner with the Muzungu and another won attendance at Isaac’s birthday party next Wednesday. One little girl asked how she could get an American friend. I have her name (Nabitaka Jowanita), age (10), and village, but there is no mail delivery to the village. If I can match her with an American girl perhaps we can use BoHU postal address for delivery. Ill ask.

Each visit to a school concludes with our team sneaking out. This visit was difficult as we were in a chapel and the exit was at the back of the room. Isaac said a closing prayer with the kids and then told them to keep their eyes closed and send good thoughts to the family of Michael Jackson. All had their eyes closed and we nearly made it out of the church before we were caught. Mayhem! Once outside we met with some of the children who’s school fees are paid by BoHU.

We left the church and hiked low into the valley to deliver a bag containing some rice and sugar to a young mother with AIDS. This woman saw us coming and met us at the road in front of her hut. She gave us all a giant hug (Ugandan style) and then led us into her yard.. She went inside and brought out a small straw mat for us to sit on. My heart hurts for her and her children. She has six tiny children who were all cuter than Cute! Tony works to get her drugs and Isaac works to keep them in food, but there are never enough of either. Isaac chatted with her for awhile and then she walked with us to the water well that BoHU had dug for the village. Everyone walked slowly so that she could keep up…followed by her six little children. It was only about two blocks to the well but we were worried about her getting back home. Again, giant hugs from her as we left her.

The walk back home was all uphill out of the valley and long and dark. Arrived home truly tired. Alice brought me a cup of hot porridge and a dinner roll smeared with g-nut sauce, all topped with her ever present grin. After I ate she placed a small bowl of warmish water, complete with a cup so that I can pour the water over my head, at the top of the hill so that I could bathe. I can think of no better pick-me-up after a long day. Between the water and the breeze I was cooling down. My stomach was full of Scovia’s hot porridge, and I was standing naked in the dark somewhere in the middle of Africa with chickens at my feet. I felt like laughing out loud.

Tony won’t be with us tomorrow. One of his young AIDS clients died this afternoon. He will go retrieve the body, rent a car, and drive it to the young man’s village.

First week in Uganda

Let me start by saying that Im working on a mini computer which is a pain in the butt to key on. So you wont be seeing things like apostrophes or other things my fat fingers don’t want to hit. I also forgot the flash drive containing my photos so there won't be any photos with this either. Sorry

Next, I want to say that I feel very, very white. All that being said...

The trip here can be summed up as simply LONG. The flight to Amsterdam wasn’t bad except that we landed late and figuring out where to go to catch the flight to Entebbe was interesting. I finally just followed the singing…about 30 kids going to Uganda with their youth group to work for two weeks. I developed a deep and abiding dislike for these kids by the time Id spent nearly 10 hours with them. Noisy bunch that over a period of 8.5 hours NEVER SAT DOWN OR SHUT UP.

Landed in Entebbe at 815p and we were met by surgical masked people handing each of us a medical declaration form. No instructions…just handed us a form. So like lost sheep all filled out the form and then stood in line only to find it was the wrong line. We should have noted the women in the corner also wearing surgical masks and tiny little nurses caps--they stamped our medical declaration forms and sent us to get our visas.. So…off to stand in another line…followed by finding luggage…followed by being waived through Customs and into the airport waiting area.

I was scanning the crowd for a sign with my name and just about the time I found it, Isaac recognized me and rushed to give me a giant hug. It seems all Ugandans are into big, long, hugging. Scovia nearly knocked me down when we met. This morning we went to a school and I was hugged mightily by the kids. Ugandans are huggers. I like that about them.

I digress…Isaac had a special hire (private taxi) waiting and off we headed to Kampala. I held my breath the entire time. They all drive fast and there are people walking all over the dark road. We dodge cars, army trucks and motorcycles. And I must get accustomed to soldiers. There were soldiers at some intersections forcing us to go very slowly. Often when we stopped people would see me in the back of the car and approach to inspect the muzungu. We drove through Kampala , through Seeta and into Mukono, where the driver stopped and Isaac got out to go into a store. He came out with a bottle of water for me and groceries for Scovia.

Once home Scovia gave me the tour. My room is a separate concrete structure about 10x10 foot. There are padlocks inside and out. She points me to the ‘latrine” at the top of the hill and tells me not to go there late at night because of wild dogs and bad people. At 1230a.m. we ate the dinner that Scovia had prepared…cabbage, rice, spaghetti pasta and beef soup. At 130a I noted Scovia heating a bucket of water. She thought Id want a bath. Told her I was too tired. Scovia has a 3 month old baby named Happiness. Where does she get her energy? Went to my room, climbed under the net and slept hard for about 2 hours. Then the dogs started barking/howling, and continued all night. At some point I went back to sleep because I was awakened by roosters. And more dogs. Then the cows chimed in. Goats are relatively quiet compared to all the others. There are birds that sound like screaming monkeys.

This morning Isaac, Ronnie and I were off to buy a phone with a stop at the school. At school. there were older children--perhaps 6 to 10 years old--and they were excited to see the white lady (muzungu). All rushed for hugs and wanted to hold my hand. I took a couple pictures of them and then took some time showing them all their picture. They do love to have their pictures taken. As a side note, even Ugandan village children know to say “cheese” when it is picture time.

On through to the village shopping area which is perhaps a 2 mile walk through the outer area of Mukono. Envision red dirt roads broken up by earlier rains, and banana trees everywhere and either wood or bricks made of red clay structures. We went to the bank, to the phone store. I use the terms bank and store broadly. Both are better described as open cubby holes along a row of what we might consider shacks.. Later we went to purchase an adapter for the computer I brought for Isaac. A woman tried selling him an adapter that had to be forced onto the plug and still didn’t fit properly. When I said no we would not purchase it, she became angry and declared the store closed. Then on to the vegetable market, back to get water and then home.

Crossing the street in downtown Mukono is a dangerous proposition. It is absolute chaos on wheels of both the 4 wheel , the 2 wheel, and 2 legged kind. Each time we had to cross, either Ronnie or Isaac took my hand. That’s another thing. Ugandans are big hand holders. Everywhere men hold hands with men as they walk and talk , as do women, as do the children. This is a very affectionate people.

I spent 4,000 Ush and went to a hotel to purchase a shower today. It wasn’t a shower like I am accustomed to but it certainly did the trick! In the process of trying to wash my hair, I accidentally soaked all of my clothing and my towel. I didn’t care. It felt great.

When I returned home at 730p some of the children from the school recognized me and accompanied me home, offering me kernels of corn torn from cobs they held, and squished grapes. Mostly they just want to hold my hands. By the time I reached home, the number of kids gathered was about 10. Scovia came out and shooed them away so that I could enter my space.

Tonight’s dinner came at 1130pm.

Isaac is ecstatic over the computer and the digital camera. His friend Ronnie thanked me for the camera several times and wants to do the official thank you email to the donors (Ed and Amy), But important donors deserve a note from important people (Isaac). Additionally everyone loves the Ipod. Isaac asked if he could take the Ipod with him to the office late yesterday afternoon, and then later to his monthly Rotary Club meeting. He came in late last night feeling like a big doggie. He said that the computer worked at the hotel where the meeting was held, and everyone admired the Ipod.

July 2

As I write this I hear Scovia singing again. She sings all of the time and I love her voice.

Isaac went to a village far away today. He was afraid I could not walk the distance yet because of jet lag, so has left me at home. He is visiting an AIDS patient who is totally out of rice. So off he went with his bags of rice and tea…and my Ipod. No matter how hot it is, Isaac is dressed in black dress pants, dress shoes and a white shirt. So is Ronnie.

Today I am home with Scovia, Helen and Alice. Scovia is Isaac’s wife. Helen is a woman who works at Beacon of Hope and seems to be here a lot and Alice is a girl I have hired. I asked if there was someone who I could hire to wash my clothes, and so…here is Alice to take care of me. Alice is a big girl--maybe 15 or 16 years old.. She comes from a family of 11 kids and her father died, leaving her mother to work in the rock quarry. I pay Alice 30,000 Ush a month and she will clean and assist me in any way I need. Scovia will teach her how to cook and clean. Alice will teach me Luganda. I will teach Alice English. If she can ever get over her shyness.

Late note: Alice is over her shyness. We were outside this afternoon and two little boys of perhaps 6 years old kept peeking around the corner and when I would look up and wave, they would laugh and scream and run, and then come back and do it again. Alice took me by the hand and we stood behind the wall and waited for them to come back. When they did, we jumped out and really gave them a start! They REALLY screamed. They gathered forces and came back with two more boys. (This group became my first pick-up stick players.)

Scovia and I had an interesting talk about women here, having lots of children with no way to support them She and Isaac teach family planning but says it is difficult for a couple of reasons. First,. Ugandans don’t plan. They look at today only. Second, their churches tell them each child is a gift from God and they are lucky to have so many children. Scovia tells them that she too loves God, but believes that women need to work with God in having fewer children.

A few random thoughts…

*Pictures of Michael Jackson were hung on several walls in the airport

*In an older newspaper I found a picture of Obama and his daughters. The article referenced his Fathers day speech

*Today while on the phone with George a military truck came by announcing something on a loudspeaker. Scovia said they were announcing a village meeting this Sunday. The practice of human sacrifice still exists here, encouraged by witch doctors who promise wealth or fame if they are delivered a head. This causes child abductions and the government is doing the best it can to abolish the practice. She says that every meeting gives lessons on keeping your children safe from abductors, ie, don’t let them gather water alone…don’t let them walk alone. I don’t think this program is working. Daily I see children barely old enough to walk, waddling up the streets alone.

*The game of pick up sticks I brought is a big hit with children, although given a choice they would prefer to have their pictures taken. I lay out the sticks and they take a stick and are excited whether or not they moved other sticks in the taking. I guess this beats playing with seed pods…

*One of the gifts I brought was a bag of Starbucks chocolate covered coffee beans. I explained what they were. The next morning Isaac and Scovia had them out at breakfast, ready to be dropped into hot water to drink. I think they were disappointed that they would not make coffee. This morning the bag was sitting next to the eggs and occasionally Isaac would reach over and eat one.

*The Rocky Mountain Chocolate I brought was tasted and determined to be too sweet. I think it is all mine…the entire case…so if any of you thought Id lose weight here you were mistaken

*I brought a pair of gold covered aspen leaf earrings for Scovia only to see that she didn’t have her ears pierced. She said she had been afraid because she saw some girls whos piercing had made their ears big. She decided however that she wants now to pierce her ears so that she can wear them. She told Isaac she was doing it this week. I told her I would have the earrings made with clips but she is now convinced she wants pierced ears.

July 4

Happy 4^th everyone! Hope everyone stayed safe and enjoyed the fireworks!!

Last night I went to a beauty salon (referred to as a saloon) with Scovia. She was having her hair done and needed help with Happy, and I desperately needed a shampoo. Here’s the way it went…We walked the washed out road about 3 miles to another row of “shops”. The shop was up an alley and measured approximately 5x12 feet. There is an old shampoo bowl in front of which sit’s a plastic lawn chair. The operator (a really nice woman) uses a cup to pour water over your head and the water then runs directly through the sink into a plastic bowl sitting on the floor below. When the bowl is full of water, it gets recycled and used on you, via cup, again. Once it is time to rinse, new water is used. What ever one may think, it worked. .I had clean hair for a mere 3,000 Ush.

It took so long to do Scovia’s hair, that it was dark by the time we left. Instead of walking the dark road we hired two boda bodas. Boda bodas are motorcycle taxis driven by men who appear to be crazy for driving as fast as they do on roads that seem to be a continuous pot hole, but seem to know what to do. I questioned my own sanity riding on one of these things in total darkness and high speed knowing how bumpy and washed out the road was. I pulled out my camera and tried taking a video of the ride but it was so dark that nothing picked up. The only near misses we had was a couple of goats which my driver deftly maneuvered around without batting an eye.

So today Isaac and I decided to make the trip to Kampala in search of internet. We took a taxi. A taxi here is a 9 passenger van which is packed with up to 20 people. Isaac and I lucked out and got the front seats so no one was sitting on top of us. Unfortunately it was hotter than hell and with traffic our journey into Kampala took two hours. (The return trip took three!) The roads are PACKED with cars, buses, trucks, taxis, bicycles, people, goats, and MORE cars, people darting between cars, buses, transport trucks and goats, chickens, babys, etc. Astonishingly nowhere--not even in the city of Kampala (2 million people) there is not a single stop sign or traffic light. Total mayhem. I’m learning to navigate though. Today Isaac allowed me to cross a street in Kampala by myself without holding my hand.

Once in Kampala we searched for a store that may sell printers as Beacon of Hope Uganda had none. I had intended to learn the price of a printer/scanner/copier and list it on a wish list for donors. The price was ridiculously low so I went ahead and purchased it. Without a printer or copier it had been necessary for Isaac or Ronnie to walk all the way into Mukono to use the expensive services there, assuming the woman was even there with the store open once they arrived. He and Ronnie are out of their heads happy with the printer. They are at Isaac and Scovias playing with it now.

The next most crucial item they need is internet. It can be brought to the village (satellite internet) for $500 which happens to be about ¼ the cost of a home here. I ask everyone to keep your ears and eyes open to opportunities for me on this one!

Back to Kampala. At some point we decided to take boda bodas to the other side of the city in search of internet. I have learned to say “Mpola, mpola, kale”which means “Go Slowly, please” to the boda boda drivers. They truly seem to appreciate muzungu’s trying to speak Luganda, so I thought it helpful to learn that phrase. Evidently my driver was hard of hearing. At one point we were traveling about 45mph and I could have reached out and touched the truck next to us and we wove in and out of traffic. For all of you who had been worried about my safety in Uganda, you are correct to worry about transportation here!

We went to Parliament and asked the guard permission to photograph it. He allowed it. Lots of caution and either armed guards or soldiers everywhere. It appears that most gas stations come equipped with its own well armed guard. Soldiers and guards appear from out of nowhere nearly everywhere, but especially in Kampala. Isaac told me that in the past 3 years six tall buildings have collapsed in downtown Kampala, killing many, many people. I would guess that the soldiers would be helpful in a situation like that.

Saw my second and third non-muzungus today at the Golf View Hotel. They were asian.

Off to bed now. Was frightened by the sudden appearance of one of the “bad” dogs on my way back from washing up this evening. My heart still pounds. These dogs are so dangerous that they must be locked up in the houses during the day but the people turn them loose at night. I hear them snarling and tearing around outside my door at night so when I actually came across one on my way back down the hill in the dark, my heart stopped. I wont be washing up in the dark in the future.

I hope you are all well. Will send pics the next time I can find internet. Love, Mel/Mom