August 31
Yesterday’s rain was a big one. While you often see plantain trees fall with the weight of the plantain bunches, this morning there were several trees down here with very small bunches on them. I have to assume this was from the hard rain.
Last night Diana and Joshua came to my door excited that I was home. During our talk I learned that while I was gone the two had been abused (don’t know if this was verbal or physical) by their father who had been drinking, and ran to their grandmother’s house. There they spent the night with Grandmother, who had no food for them. So they went back home the next day in search of food but the beautiful-but-hateful young stepmother denied them food. They then came looking for me because I generally have some crackers or rolls and a jar of jam or something else junky, but I was gone. I asked if they had since eaten and they told me that yes, they had—but only after a day and a half. This morning I compared notes with Scovia. She said that they hadn’t eaten the day of Diana’s birthday party either and she gave them some bread and tea that night after the party. She had assumed that was just a fluke and hadn’t worried about them. She said she would henceforth quietly watch and make certain they had something to eat. Bless Scovia! It isn’t like she and Isaac are rolling in money and easily able to feed extra children.
Joshua who is younger than Diana, leaves for school with his older brother today. Neither the father nor the mother has been able to come up with school fees for Diana, who because she is a girl, comes last in the pecking order. It is 750,000 USH (about $325) per year. I was pretty tempted to give her school fees myself, but then had to stop myself. Everyone here needs money. Everyone. When her brothers leave, Diana will be alone all day with her rotten stepmother and her often drunk father. Damn. At least I now know that Scovia has a watchful eye on her.
On a lighter note, I have finally figured out an area where I have had an impact here…
This family and the neighbors constantly play music. It is a cross between hip hop and reggae, and the ever present high volume on the radio gets old fast. Anyway, I dance to the music whenever I am moving through our area of the village, stopping in doorways, stooping over their pots to see what they are cooking, or walking up the hill to brush my teeth. I had never thought much about this, but the people here thought this was pretty funny. Some of them laughed while others would see me and, from a distance, would acknowledge me by doing a little fanny-shaking of their own as they waved—it started with the children and moved to the adults.
Yesterday one of the women came through singing at the top of her lungs, drawing attention to herself, and dancing while she did it. I was outside, laughed at her and told her “good job”. She nodded her head and continued dancing up the road. Then I started reflecting back on the past several weeks and noted that many neighbors now do a little dance not just for me, but for each other. I wonder if they think this is some kind of bizarre American custom that they have adopted while I am here. Nonetheless, I would note that even worthless impacts qualify as impacts. This one is mine, small as it is.
Kinda reminds me of the time I caught my husband dancing—by himself—in a Sam’s Club—arms over his head, rockin’ out solo—in the freezer section. If ya feel it folks, shake it! (Sorry to have ratted you out George!)
It isn’t surprising that there are no toys in this village given the poverty. And yet the creativity of our children knows no bounds. This morning several of the children are running screaming and laughing with pinwheels they have made from leaves and twigs. They take a very small twig and poke a hole in a large leaf. When they run, the leaf spins and they have a twirling pinwheel! They have been running with these pinwheels all morning. They make drums from discarded plastic bottles. These children can make virtually anything into a toy and they all freely share whatever they have with each other (which may explain their confusion when I refuse to let them wear my glasses). I also better understand why when I toss a bag of trash, the adult women go through it. By the time they are through, there is very little to be actually tossed. Cookie boxes, plastic food wrap and paper can be used to start their charcoal pots, thread or string can be used for everything, old ballpoint pens can be heated and re-used…the people here are the original recyclers. They still have my broken hairdryer…
Finally, this from today’s edition of Uganda’s biggest newspaper, The New Vision:
Old Taxi Park Celebrates M7 Directive
“Business halted at the Old Taxi Park as traders and taxi operators jubilated over President Yoweri Museveni’s directive to return the park’s plots to them for re-development. Taxis jammed streets in downtown Kampala as traders slaughtered a bull and turned the place into a rally, vowing to support Museveni’s fourth term presidential bid. ‘We are over 30,000 and want to assure the President that we will not put him to shame.’ . . . musicians and dancers threw the traders into prolonged cheering as they exchanged NRM slogans. The celebrants said they slaughtered the bull to cleanse the park. Most taxi operators abandoned work to join the celebrations.”
BOY AM I GLAD TO HAVE MISSED THAT!!! The Old Taxi Park is frightening enough without celebrating with butchery…
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Entebbe!
August 30
It is the afternoon, I’m back in Mukono, and I am told the electricity has been out for the past day. We’ll see how long my computer battery lasts…
I left for Entebbe on Friday, with my backpack containing a clean shirt, a rain jacket, a change of underwear, my camera, 2 bottles of water and my toothbrush and hairbrush. I had money in the bottom of my pack, in my wallet (which is wired to the inside of my pack), and in my wristband. I figured if I were robbed at the taxi park, no one would get it all unless they were in no hurry. They would have to disrobe me to find my credit card.
All of my fears of the dreaded Kampala taxi park were for nothing, because I stupidly disembarked about 6 miles prematurely in a small taxi park in Nakawa. Nakawa serves Port Bell but has few taxis daily to Entebbe. I was in luck as there was ONE about to leave for the Entebbe Airport. I figured going to the airport would be fine. The traffic was horrendous, and it took over two hours to reach Entebbe. Once in Entebbe I noticed the difference between this town and any other I have found in Uganda. It has paved streets, clean sidewalks, lots of trees, and an actual park. I knew one of the things I wanted to do in Entebbe was to visit the Botanical Gardens so when I saw the sign I called “Stage!” and they let me off. Bad move. I should have read the entire sign. The sign was an advertisement for the Imperial Hotel at Botanical Gardens. I stood there feeling stupid but then. . .boda boda to the rescue!
In five minutes I was at the Botanical Gardens. The BG is a 75 acre preserve, originally the massive grounds of a very wealthy Dutch family (and later an English family) who imported plants from all over the world. I paid the Muzungu price to get in and started walking. Soon, a man who introduced himself as James caught up with me and told me that I didn’t want to walk alone. He said that he knew the gardens, was a botany student, and besides, he could take me into the jungle where the old Tarzan movies were made. Sale! Welcome aboard, James.
James pointed out every tree, shrub, monkey, bird, termite mound, and spider in the park. He showed me things I never would have seen had I been on my own. . . Chinese cinnamon, cinnamon, mahogany, every possible type of tropical tree, ironwood, you name it, it was here. We saw many monkeys and twice encountered wild dogs--once a set of pups with Nasty Mother nearby and James took a wide path around them. We climbed hills, walked to Lake Victoria’s shores, climbed more hills, stopped and sat, and James started looking ill. I noticed he had no water and it had to be over 100 degrees. When I asked about water, he shrugged it off.
As we entered the jungle I noted several bright blue bags hanging from trees in various areas. James told me that tsetse flies which cause river blindness are attracted to blue, and there were areas in the jungle containing heavy communities of the little buggers. The bags were intended to attract them to specific areas. Since I was wearing blue jeans, he steered me far from any of the blue bags. The jungle was incredible! It felt just like walking through Tarzan movie, with screaming African Gray parrots, African eagles, 200 foot vines, streams, swampy areas, velvet and Colombo(?) monkeys who also screamed our arrival. Tarzan and Jane must have worn lots of insect repellent.
A couple hours later we had hiked a good area of shore and I was pooped, but James was totally wiped out. I gave him 20,000 Ush and said goodbye. He was polite and said goodbye. As I left, I saw him sit on the ground, slumping shoulders, head hanging between his knees, and something told me something was seriously wrong. I went back and offered him my remaining water. He took it, but then looked worse. The problem, it turned out, was that James hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. My guide had become an impromptu guide hoping for a tip large enough to purchase himself a meal. I was hungry and so invited James to lunch. We went to a Chinese garden restaurant. He ate all of his lunch and most of mine. He looked slightly better. He also thanked me so profusely that I was embarrassed.
I then asked around town for the solar panel production plant, but no one had heard of it. George to the rescue! He looked it up on the internet for me, but by the time I had the information it was the weekend. I will visit them the morning I leave for the states. If there is any possibility I could start some sort of solar light assembly project for them with our widows I would be ecstatic. I don’t have a lot of hope for that, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I chose to stay at The Boma Guesthouse and asked a boda boda to take me there. On the way, the boda driver pointed out local sites, including a large war memorial to no particular war, built by Arabs (I guess when you want to make a gift to another country, it needn’t make any sense.)
I arrived at The Boma. The Boma is located in a pretty, leafy suburb of Entebbe. At the entrance, there is a tall wooden wall squeezed between two round slabs of concrete. On the concrete is painted “The Boma”. In the center of that wooden wall is a door of perhaps only 4 foot high. There is only that munchkin-sized door, and a doorbell. I rang the bell and an armed guard opened the door, bent over to see me while making certain that I could see the rifle on his shoulder. I also had to stoop to go through the door, and entered Muzungu Heaven!!! The Boma is a series of small buildings surrounded by exquisitely manicured grounds. The interior is furnished in a cross between African and British Colonial, the staff is warm and welcoming, had a full bar (and ICE made out of mineral water!!!) and it is clean, clean, clean. The lobby is small, but cool and exceptionally comfortable, and behind the lobby is a library with books from all over the world for visitors. Each room had its own veranda, with two chairs each. Best of all, it had running water which meant a SHOWER and a TOILET . When I got to my room I was soooo excited to see a king sized feather bed w/canopy mosquito net, screens on the windows, and an electric fan. Finally, they have a first class restaurant (for guests only). I didn’t think I was hungry, but the owner pushed her spicy pumpkin soup at me and I inhaled it. It is owned and run by a very young Finnish couple, she a serious runner, and he, just plain serious. (As an aside, President Musevini’s Entebbe home is a stone’s throw from The Boma so I felt pretty darned secure.) I rinsed out my day’s shirt, changed, drank a Bailey’s on the veranda, and hit the sack. Slept like a dead woman.
On day two I knew I hadn’t spent enough time in Entebbe and decided to stay. I grabbed my pack and headed out for town in hopes of finding a Stanbeck Bank, which is the only bank in Africa that has reliable ATM machines. On the way, I stopped at the war memorial, which like everything else in Uganda is in ruin. The fountains are dry and the statues are encrusted with bird poop. Onward…I was walking up the street and was soon joined by William…
William, was Day 2’s version of James. Poor locals latch onto foreigners and hope to show them around for a tip. William is a music student and he knew where Stanbeck Bank was. He also purported to be a local expert (aren’t they all?) on the area animal preserve. Went to the bank and then took the long walk to the shoreline and the animal preserve. On the way, I saw a sign for the Jane Goodall Research Foundation and made mental note to stop there on my way back. William, his sisters and his mother were refugees from Rwanda. His father and brothers were murdered during the war. His mother has since died. He was shocked and pleased at the music on my Ipod. He figured I must be okay.
William led me on a 9 HOUR walking safari. True to his word, William knew every nook and cranny of the preserve, pointing out animals I never would have spotted had I been alone—like monkeys watching us from the trees. Some monkeys let us get pretty close, one momma velvet monkey with her baby hanging upside down from her belly actually threatened me. From a good distance we saw warthogs, water buffalo, lions, and rhinos (no elephants thanks to Idi Amin who managed to kill off most large animals in Uganda). Our only frightening moment came with an ostrich at the end of the day. The mammoth bird was at a distance eating. William started whistling and making noises, hoping it would lift her head so that I could get a photo. She not only lifted her head, she started running toward us, and ostriches can really move fast!! William grabbed my arm and we FLEW down a steep embankment and out of the way. The ostrich actually could have caught up with us but evidently decided the downhill was too much trouble.
We headed on down the hill to the shores of Lake Victoria and came across what I think he called a Monitor Lizard. This little monster was at least 4 foot long and perhaps 10 inches wide and moved like lightening. It crossed in front of us and moved so quickly I couldn’t grab my camera. I paid William 20,000 Ush, said goodbye, and headed back to the Jane Goodall Research Foundation. On the way I learned that I could spend the night on the preserve for $10 US. The preserve has waddle huts with grass roofs with mattresses in them, but no mosquito nets. I took a look and decided with no security, and the proximity of the lake, and the mosquitoes from the lake, that I would go back to The Boma instead. But were I 20 years old, with my own sleeping bag and mosquito net, and a bit stupid, I would have stayed there. Think of the animal sounds one could hear in those places at night!
A guard let me in at Goodall and I met some of the staff, telling them I knew a man who had been the USA director of the foundation. Whether they knew him or not (I couldn’t tell), they were most welcoming. Almost instantly I felt exhausted from the heat and the walking. I cut the visit short and headed back toward the Chinese gardens.
The walk to the Chinese gardens was hot and uphill. Sometimes I stopped in vendors’ shops simply to be able to stand in one place and cool down. About one block from the gardens a boda stopped. I told him I was only one block away from my destination and he started to leave. Then he stopped and said “get on, I will take you for free”. I must have looked like I felt. I got on, and he took me. I offered to pay him and he refused. Ya gotta love Ugandans.
As an aside, Amin’s former palace with pool, stables, landing strip, etc., is now the world’s nicest Army barracks.
Back to The Boma and Muzungu Heaven for the night. I took the worlds longest shower in the evening and then another in the morning just for good measure. This morning I took off in search of the Entebbe taxi park and after several wrong moves, found it. On the taxi I met a wonderful Ugandan woman who runs and orphanage in Gulu with 500 children. We talked all the way to Kampala and the DREADED KAMPALA OLD TAXI PARK. The woman from the bus insisted on staying with me until I was safely on a bus. Then she left.
As the taxi doors closed, a woman behind me slapped my shoulder and said “Get off”. I was startled and just looked at her. Then they all started yelling at the driver to stop and all told me to get off. It seems they were being helpful. Sometime between the time I got on and the time we left, the bus had decided not to stop in Mukono, but since I didn’t understand Luganda, I didn’t know. So I got off, wondering where in hell to find a bus to Mukono. In the end I found one and actually made it home at a reasonable hour. And I wasn’t robbed.
It started to pour down rain as soon as I arrived, and since there is no electricity I figured it must be nap time. Nothing like a good sleep in the rain provided you have an Ipod to drown out the sound of hard rain on your tin roof.
It is the afternoon, I’m back in Mukono, and I am told the electricity has been out for the past day. We’ll see how long my computer battery lasts…
I left for Entebbe on Friday, with my backpack containing a clean shirt, a rain jacket, a change of underwear, my camera, 2 bottles of water and my toothbrush and hairbrush. I had money in the bottom of my pack, in my wallet (which is wired to the inside of my pack), and in my wristband. I figured if I were robbed at the taxi park, no one would get it all unless they were in no hurry. They would have to disrobe me to find my credit card.
All of my fears of the dreaded Kampala taxi park were for nothing, because I stupidly disembarked about 6 miles prematurely in a small taxi park in Nakawa. Nakawa serves Port Bell but has few taxis daily to Entebbe. I was in luck as there was ONE about to leave for the Entebbe Airport. I figured going to the airport would be fine. The traffic was horrendous, and it took over two hours to reach Entebbe. Once in Entebbe I noticed the difference between this town and any other I have found in Uganda. It has paved streets, clean sidewalks, lots of trees, and an actual park. I knew one of the things I wanted to do in Entebbe was to visit the Botanical Gardens so when I saw the sign I called “Stage!” and they let me off. Bad move. I should have read the entire sign. The sign was an advertisement for the Imperial Hotel at Botanical Gardens. I stood there feeling stupid but then. . .boda boda to the rescue!
In five minutes I was at the Botanical Gardens. The BG is a 75 acre preserve, originally the massive grounds of a very wealthy Dutch family (and later an English family) who imported plants from all over the world. I paid the Muzungu price to get in and started walking. Soon, a man who introduced himself as James caught up with me and told me that I didn’t want to walk alone. He said that he knew the gardens, was a botany student, and besides, he could take me into the jungle where the old Tarzan movies were made. Sale! Welcome aboard, James.
James pointed out every tree, shrub, monkey, bird, termite mound, and spider in the park. He showed me things I never would have seen had I been on my own. . . Chinese cinnamon, cinnamon, mahogany, every possible type of tropical tree, ironwood, you name it, it was here. We saw many monkeys and twice encountered wild dogs--once a set of pups with Nasty Mother nearby and James took a wide path around them. We climbed hills, walked to Lake Victoria’s shores, climbed more hills, stopped and sat, and James started looking ill. I noticed he had no water and it had to be over 100 degrees. When I asked about water, he shrugged it off.
As we entered the jungle I noted several bright blue bags hanging from trees in various areas. James told me that tsetse flies which cause river blindness are attracted to blue, and there were areas in the jungle containing heavy communities of the little buggers. The bags were intended to attract them to specific areas. Since I was wearing blue jeans, he steered me far from any of the blue bags. The jungle was incredible! It felt just like walking through Tarzan movie, with screaming African Gray parrots, African eagles, 200 foot vines, streams, swampy areas, velvet and Colombo(?) monkeys who also screamed our arrival. Tarzan and Jane must have worn lots of insect repellent.
A couple hours later we had hiked a good area of shore and I was pooped, but James was totally wiped out. I gave him 20,000 Ush and said goodbye. He was polite and said goodbye. As I left, I saw him sit on the ground, slumping shoulders, head hanging between his knees, and something told me something was seriously wrong. I went back and offered him my remaining water. He took it, but then looked worse. The problem, it turned out, was that James hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours. My guide had become an impromptu guide hoping for a tip large enough to purchase himself a meal. I was hungry and so invited James to lunch. We went to a Chinese garden restaurant. He ate all of his lunch and most of mine. He looked slightly better. He also thanked me so profusely that I was embarrassed.
I then asked around town for the solar panel production plant, but no one had heard of it. George to the rescue! He looked it up on the internet for me, but by the time I had the information it was the weekend. I will visit them the morning I leave for the states. If there is any possibility I could start some sort of solar light assembly project for them with our widows I would be ecstatic. I don’t have a lot of hope for that, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.
I chose to stay at The Boma Guesthouse and asked a boda boda to take me there. On the way, the boda driver pointed out local sites, including a large war memorial to no particular war, built by Arabs (I guess when you want to make a gift to another country, it needn’t make any sense.)
I arrived at The Boma. The Boma is located in a pretty, leafy suburb of Entebbe. At the entrance, there is a tall wooden wall squeezed between two round slabs of concrete. On the concrete is painted “The Boma”. In the center of that wooden wall is a door of perhaps only 4 foot high. There is only that munchkin-sized door, and a doorbell. I rang the bell and an armed guard opened the door, bent over to see me while making certain that I could see the rifle on his shoulder. I also had to stoop to go through the door, and entered Muzungu Heaven!!! The Boma is a series of small buildings surrounded by exquisitely manicured grounds. The interior is furnished in a cross between African and British Colonial, the staff is warm and welcoming, had a full bar (and ICE made out of mineral water!!!) and it is clean, clean, clean. The lobby is small, but cool and exceptionally comfortable, and behind the lobby is a library with books from all over the world for visitors. Each room had its own veranda, with two chairs each. Best of all, it had running water which meant a SHOWER and a TOILET . When I got to my room I was soooo excited to see a king sized feather bed w/canopy mosquito net, screens on the windows, and an electric fan. Finally, they have a first class restaurant (for guests only). I didn’t think I was hungry, but the owner pushed her spicy pumpkin soup at me and I inhaled it. It is owned and run by a very young Finnish couple, she a serious runner, and he, just plain serious. (As an aside, President Musevini’s Entebbe home is a stone’s throw from The Boma so I felt pretty darned secure.) I rinsed out my day’s shirt, changed, drank a Bailey’s on the veranda, and hit the sack. Slept like a dead woman.
On day two I knew I hadn’t spent enough time in Entebbe and decided to stay. I grabbed my pack and headed out for town in hopes of finding a Stanbeck Bank, which is the only bank in Africa that has reliable ATM machines. On the way, I stopped at the war memorial, which like everything else in Uganda is in ruin. The fountains are dry and the statues are encrusted with bird poop. Onward…I was walking up the street and was soon joined by William…
William, was Day 2’s version of James. Poor locals latch onto foreigners and hope to show them around for a tip. William is a music student and he knew where Stanbeck Bank was. He also purported to be a local expert (aren’t they all?) on the area animal preserve. Went to the bank and then took the long walk to the shoreline and the animal preserve. On the way, I saw a sign for the Jane Goodall Research Foundation and made mental note to stop there on my way back. William, his sisters and his mother were refugees from Rwanda. His father and brothers were murdered during the war. His mother has since died. He was shocked and pleased at the music on my Ipod. He figured I must be okay.
William led me on a 9 HOUR walking safari. True to his word, William knew every nook and cranny of the preserve, pointing out animals I never would have spotted had I been alone—like monkeys watching us from the trees. Some monkeys let us get pretty close, one momma velvet monkey with her baby hanging upside down from her belly actually threatened me. From a good distance we saw warthogs, water buffalo, lions, and rhinos (no elephants thanks to Idi Amin who managed to kill off most large animals in Uganda). Our only frightening moment came with an ostrich at the end of the day. The mammoth bird was at a distance eating. William started whistling and making noises, hoping it would lift her head so that I could get a photo. She not only lifted her head, she started running toward us, and ostriches can really move fast!! William grabbed my arm and we FLEW down a steep embankment and out of the way. The ostrich actually could have caught up with us but evidently decided the downhill was too much trouble.
We headed on down the hill to the shores of Lake Victoria and came across what I think he called a Monitor Lizard. This little monster was at least 4 foot long and perhaps 10 inches wide and moved like lightening. It crossed in front of us and moved so quickly I couldn’t grab my camera. I paid William 20,000 Ush, said goodbye, and headed back to the Jane Goodall Research Foundation. On the way I learned that I could spend the night on the preserve for $10 US. The preserve has waddle huts with grass roofs with mattresses in them, but no mosquito nets. I took a look and decided with no security, and the proximity of the lake, and the mosquitoes from the lake, that I would go back to The Boma instead. But were I 20 years old, with my own sleeping bag and mosquito net, and a bit stupid, I would have stayed there. Think of the animal sounds one could hear in those places at night!
A guard let me in at Goodall and I met some of the staff, telling them I knew a man who had been the USA director of the foundation. Whether they knew him or not (I couldn’t tell), they were most welcoming. Almost instantly I felt exhausted from the heat and the walking. I cut the visit short and headed back toward the Chinese gardens.
The walk to the Chinese gardens was hot and uphill. Sometimes I stopped in vendors’ shops simply to be able to stand in one place and cool down. About one block from the gardens a boda stopped. I told him I was only one block away from my destination and he started to leave. Then he stopped and said “get on, I will take you for free”. I must have looked like I felt. I got on, and he took me. I offered to pay him and he refused. Ya gotta love Ugandans.
As an aside, Amin’s former palace with pool, stables, landing strip, etc., is now the world’s nicest Army barracks.
Back to The Boma and Muzungu Heaven for the night. I took the worlds longest shower in the evening and then another in the morning just for good measure. This morning I took off in search of the Entebbe taxi park and after several wrong moves, found it. On the taxi I met a wonderful Ugandan woman who runs and orphanage in Gulu with 500 children. We talked all the way to Kampala and the DREADED KAMPALA OLD TAXI PARK. The woman from the bus insisted on staying with me until I was safely on a bus. Then she left.
As the taxi doors closed, a woman behind me slapped my shoulder and said “Get off”. I was startled and just looked at her. Then they all started yelling at the driver to stop and all told me to get off. It seems they were being helpful. Sometime between the time I got on and the time we left, the bus had decided not to stop in Mukono, but since I didn’t understand Luganda, I didn’t know. So I got off, wondering where in hell to find a bus to Mukono. In the end I found one and actually made it home at a reasonable hour. And I wasn’t robbed.
It started to pour down rain as soon as I arrived, and since there is no electricity I figured it must be nap time. Nothing like a good sleep in the rain provided you have an Ipod to drown out the sound of hard rain on your tin roof.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Friday, August 28
It figures. I am off restriction today and can go to the internet cafe if I want to, but NOW the internet is working from home... Such is life.
Im leaving this morning and heading to Entebbe. I must go to the old taxi park in Kampala to find a taxi to Entebbe. With this in mind, I am totally prepared for the thieves and muggers. I have money in everyplace from my backpack to my underwear to my sleeves. Dont want to lose everything Ive got before I reach Entebbe.
Hotels in Entebbe are incredibly expensive ($153 to $179) for Africa. It must be because it is right on Lake Victoria and therefore a tourist resort. I have better things to do with money and will therefore look for a guest house for tonight. I plan to visit the American non profit in Entebbe that manufactures solar panels. I am hoping there is some sort of business that we could to do piggyback off of what they are doing. (Solar light assembly?). Then I will hotfoot it to do all of the touristy things, short of taking a boat to Ssese. No time for that now. But I will definitely go check out some of Uganda's big animals and hit the botanic gardens that rim the lakeshore.
Off now...
August 26
I am getting internet in 15 second increments and then it turns off. I am going to try to get this blog posted. Tomorrow I am no longer restricted and can get on taxis, buses, go to internet cafes, etc., and wont be dependent on this nearly worthless internet set up at home. I may leave early in the morning to go to
Just now I was sitting on my bed with the computer on my lap, and a chicken strolled in. Not wanting to get up, I threw paper at it. The chicken just kept snooping around. I told it to get out. It went under my bed. I finally looked under my bed and yelled “GET OUT! GET OUT!” The chicken ran toward out the door, just in time to meet Isaac who was running in. He heard me yelling at the chicken and was afraid I had an intruder. It was funny, but I will be more careful not to alarm him.
Ugandan herbalists or holistic practitioners (the new name for witch doctors who have changed their moniker since the recent high profile human sacrifices in the news) cost more, depending on the problem. Witchdoctors can cure bad marriages, money problems, ear infections…anything that ails you. They purport the ability to make you rich too. In order to get rich one must supply a human body part—most often a head—thus the prolific child trafficking from
WONDERFUL NEWS
* * *
I know it is August 25 because George told me I needed to start keeping track of the dates so that I didn’t miss my flight homeJ I am doing as told.
Robert, like most Ugandans from northern regions, is tall and skinny. Their bones are long, their faces are long, their teeth are long, they are very dark skinned, and all are naturally very thin. If I have said this earlier, forgive me. In the western regions of
As we readied to leave, Scovia’s father and Viola’s aunt put everyone in a circle holding hands for a prayer. I had expected a prayer. Nope. Margaret started singing and chanting in Luganda, Scovia’s father joined in, everyone started swaying, and Paul, Katie and I did our best to stay on our feet and not do something stupid.
Paul moved into my space yesterday because he is nearly out of money. He has changed his flight home to September 3rd. The neighbors who saw him move in here are likely talking… He jokingly suggested last night that we do each other’s hair and nails. He has a
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
A bit of good news! ...and then just stuff...
August 26
I am getting internet in 15 second increments this morning and then it turns off. I am going to try to get this blog posted. Tomorrow I am no longer restricted and can get on taxis, buses, go to internet cafes, etc., and wont be dependent on this nearly worthless internet set up at home. I may leave early in the morning to go to Entebbe. I want to see if I can get a tour of the solar panel plant, want to go to the botanical gardens, and if there is time I will go to Ssese Island. Will spend at least one night over there depending on how long it takes to see want I want to see.
Just now I was sitting on my bed writing with the computer on my lap. A chicken strolled in and was checking out my floor. I didnt want to dislodge my comfy position so I tossed some paper at it. It ignored me. I yelled "GET OUT! GET OUT!". The chicken ran out from under the bed and then out of the room, crossing paths with Isaac, who heard me yell and thought I had an intruder in my room. He saw the chicken and started to laugh. No rescue necessary:-)
August 25, 2009
WONDERFUL NEWS
Isaac was supposed to go to Gulu today but didn’t because the Minister holding the concept paper for the Hope Center asked him to come to Kampala today instead. When Isaac arrived he was shocked to be ushered directly into the office of President Museveni’s PPS (Personal Private Secretary). There he was asked to organize a conference of youth service groups in Mukono District. She said if he did this, our concept paper and proposal would definitely be approved. I asked if that meant we got the entire 5 acres or still only one, .but he said he was too shocked to ask. Either way, it is now a sure thing!!! The conference will be in 3 weeks so my last two will be helping to pull the conference together, and we will get land, courtesy of President Museveni. Isaac and I were recently discussing the need to start a coalition of Ugandan youth organizations and this would be the perfect time to do that as well.
* * *
I know it is August 25 because George told me I needed to start keeping track of the dates so that I didn’t miss my flight home I am doing as told.
I listened to Alice cough and hack all night last night. She’s been looking puny for a few days. When I asked if she was sick, she said no. When I asked why she was coughing she said, “because I’m sick”. Her English and my Luganda continue to be problematic. She sounded and looked terrible, so I took her to a medical clinic. This clinic falls somewhere between the first one and the second one I went to, in terms of size and professionalism. The first one I went to still takes the cake in the filth department. Viola came with us to translate.
Once the doc was assured that I could pay him 20,000 Ush (about $9.25) he gave her two shots and three different packets of pills. They tried injecting something directly into the vein in her hand but he said she was so dehydrated that it was too difficult. He gave her a third shot instead. So…Viola and I walked her home and then went back out to get Alice water, juice, and milk to take one of the prescriptions with. I take her back on Thursday for follow up.
Paul left this morning for Gulu to work in the displacement camps. He took boxes and boxes of clothing we (BoHU) collected from local churches and well-wishers. Yesterday we met with Robert Larubi, executive director of Youth Vision Uganda, an NGO in Gulu. His organization has a wide variety of programs for people living in the camps but Paul will be working with 13 of the boys who were previously child solders. These 13 refuse to speak. Robert explained that when these children are recovered, or escape on their own, the family and community often refuse to take them back. They are viewed as criminals/killers, even though some of these kids were kidnapped and forced into being child soldiers by the LRA as young as 5 years old. Anyway, Paul and Robert left for Gulu together this morning. Without moi. Dammit.
Robert’s group does community sensitization sessions where there is a formal apology from the recovered children and the community “forgives” them and takes them back. Still, when the parents are angry they may sometimes point fingers at the children and remind them of their sad histories, (“What else can I expect of a murderer” kind of thing), or other children often taunt them. The boys that Paul will be working with refuse to speak, whether from trauma, mental illness, fear, guilt, no one knows. I was truly tempted to push the envelope and go even tho I have a few more days of not being allowed in buses, taxis, etc., but Robert said that the sanitation and disease in the displacement camps can make even the healthiest people ill. There are also some security issues which we already knew about. . .So…I am home pouting over my bad luck. I told Robert I would be back in Uganda at some point and will come and work with him at that time.
Robert, like most Ugandans from northern regions, is tall and skinny. Their bones are long, their faces are long, their teeth are long, they are very dark skinned, and all are naturally very thin. If I have said this earlier, forgive me. In the western regions of Uganda the facial features of the people are more like Rwandans—slightly Middle Eastern looking and fair skinned. Here in the Ugandan south, the people tend to be round. The vision is one of roundness--round heads, round muscles, round bodies. Not fat, but round as if they are built from a series of balls starting from their round heads and ending with round feet. People here are also very, very dark skinned. I look at people on the roads and can almost imagine where in Uganda they come from, or their background.
The other day we traveled to Scovia’s village to meet her father, grandparents, aunt, and bunches of siblings and cousins. Her grandfather came from Rwanda and the entire family looks like him…Rwandan. We went to three family homes on the land and spent the entire afternoon there and had a wonderful time. Her aunt (Scovia and Viola’s aunt Margaret) made us tea, and I had to laugh because Margaret and Viola sound and look like twins. The family are farmers so we toured the avocados, mangos, jack fruit, potatos, etc. Viola’s father died of AIDS when she was 4, and her mother died of AIDS when she was 12. After her mother’s death, Margaret took Viola and her five siblings in to live with her and her five children. Until yesterday Viola had never mentioned that she had been orphaned at a young age, nursed her mother, took care of her brothers, etc. all at age 11 and 12.
As we went to leave, Scovia’s father and Viola’s aunt put everyone in a circle holding hands for a prayer. I had expected a prayer. Nope. Margaret started singing and chanting in Luganda, Scovia’s father joined in, everyone started swaying, and Paul, Katie and I did our best to stay on our feet and not do something stupid.
Paul moved into my space yesterday because he is nearly out of money. He has changed his flight home to September 3rd. The neighbors who saw him move in here are likely talking… He jokingly suggested last night that we do each other’s hair and nails. He has a LOT of stuff, including his huge drum and his guitar, clothing, bed, etc. We are packed in here to the hilt. But since he will be gone for the next 7 days it doesn’t really matter. I will in fact miss him between the time he leaves for England and I leave for home. He has been great fun and good company in the evenings. I feel the same about Katie. I hope we can keep in touch since we all hope to return at some point.
Isaac came in this morning and said he needed my gum. I looked for chewing gum and wondered why he needed it. He said “No, your GUM”. I checked my teeth. After some back-and-forth, it turned out that he needed my duct tape to seal the boxes of clothing Paul was taking to Gulu. I could write a small book on the funny misunderstandings we have had between all of us, including the Muzungus. Paul’s Scottish/British slang and my American slang, occasionally mixed with Katie’s lip reading, have also caused confusion. In the end, it all works. Coming soon to a bookstore near you.
I am getting internet in 15 second increments this morning and then it turns off. I am going to try to get this blog posted. Tomorrow I am no longer restricted and can get on taxis, buses, go to internet cafes, etc., and wont be dependent on this nearly worthless internet set up at home. I may leave early in the morning to go to Entebbe. I want to see if I can get a tour of the solar panel plant, want to go to the botanical gardens, and if there is time I will go to Ssese Island. Will spend at least one night over there depending on how long it takes to see want I want to see.
Just now I was sitting on my bed writing with the computer on my lap. A chicken strolled in and was checking out my floor. I didnt want to dislodge my comfy position so I tossed some paper at it. It ignored me. I yelled "GET OUT! GET OUT!". The chicken ran out from under the bed and then out of the room, crossing paths with Isaac, who heard me yell and thought I had an intruder in my room. He saw the chicken and started to laugh. No rescue necessary:-)
August 25, 2009
WONDERFUL NEWS
Isaac was supposed to go to Gulu today but didn’t because the Minister holding the concept paper for the Hope Center asked him to come to Kampala today instead. When Isaac arrived he was shocked to be ushered directly into the office of President Museveni’s PPS (Personal Private Secretary). There he was asked to organize a conference of youth service groups in Mukono District. She said if he did this, our concept paper and proposal would definitely be approved. I asked if that meant we got the entire 5 acres or still only one, .but he said he was too shocked to ask. Either way, it is now a sure thing!!! The conference will be in 3 weeks so my last two will be helping to pull the conference together, and we will get land, courtesy of President Museveni. Isaac and I were recently discussing the need to start a coalition of Ugandan youth organizations and this would be the perfect time to do that as well.
* * *
I know it is August 25 because George told me I needed to start keeping track of the dates so that I didn’t miss my flight home I am doing as told.
I listened to Alice cough and hack all night last night. She’s been looking puny for a few days. When I asked if she was sick, she said no. When I asked why she was coughing she said, “because I’m sick”. Her English and my Luganda continue to be problematic. She sounded and looked terrible, so I took her to a medical clinic. This clinic falls somewhere between the first one and the second one I went to, in terms of size and professionalism. The first one I went to still takes the cake in the filth department. Viola came with us to translate.
Once the doc was assured that I could pay him 20,000 Ush (about $9.25) he gave her two shots and three different packets of pills. They tried injecting something directly into the vein in her hand but he said she was so dehydrated that it was too difficult. He gave her a third shot instead. So…Viola and I walked her home and then went back out to get Alice water, juice, and milk to take one of the prescriptions with. I take her back on Thursday for follow up.
Paul left this morning for Gulu to work in the displacement camps. He took boxes and boxes of clothing we (BoHU) collected from local churches and well-wishers. Yesterday we met with Robert Larubi, executive director of Youth Vision Uganda, an NGO in Gulu. His organization has a wide variety of programs for people living in the camps but Paul will be working with 13 of the boys who were previously child solders. These 13 refuse to speak. Robert explained that when these children are recovered, or escape on their own, the family and community often refuse to take them back. They are viewed as criminals/killers, even though some of these kids were kidnapped and forced into being child soldiers by the LRA as young as 5 years old. Anyway, Paul and Robert left for Gulu together this morning. Without moi. Dammit.
Robert’s group does community sensitization sessions where there is a formal apology from the recovered children and the community “forgives” them and takes them back. Still, when the parents are angry they may sometimes point fingers at the children and remind them of their sad histories, (“What else can I expect of a murderer” kind of thing), or other children often taunt them. The boys that Paul will be working with refuse to speak, whether from trauma, mental illness, fear, guilt, no one knows. I was truly tempted to push the envelope and go even tho I have a few more days of not being allowed in buses, taxis, etc., but Robert said that the sanitation and disease in the displacement camps can make even the healthiest people ill. There are also some security issues which we already knew about. . .So…I am home pouting over my bad luck. I told Robert I would be back in Uganda at some point and will come and work with him at that time.
Robert, like most Ugandans from northern regions, is tall and skinny. Their bones are long, their faces are long, their teeth are long, they are very dark skinned, and all are naturally very thin. If I have said this earlier, forgive me. In the western regions of Uganda the facial features of the people are more like Rwandans—slightly Middle Eastern looking and fair skinned. Here in the Ugandan south, the people tend to be round. The vision is one of roundness--round heads, round muscles, round bodies. Not fat, but round as if they are built from a series of balls starting from their round heads and ending with round feet. People here are also very, very dark skinned. I look at people on the roads and can almost imagine where in Uganda they come from, or their background.
The other day we traveled to Scovia’s village to meet her father, grandparents, aunt, and bunches of siblings and cousins. Her grandfather came from Rwanda and the entire family looks like him…Rwandan. We went to three family homes on the land and spent the entire afternoon there and had a wonderful time. Her aunt (Scovia and Viola’s aunt Margaret) made us tea, and I had to laugh because Margaret and Viola sound and look like twins. The family are farmers so we toured the avocados, mangos, jack fruit, potatos, etc. Viola’s father died of AIDS when she was 4, and her mother died of AIDS when she was 12. After her mother’s death, Margaret took Viola and her five siblings in to live with her and her five children. Until yesterday Viola had never mentioned that she had been orphaned at a young age, nursed her mother, took care of her brothers, etc. all at age 11 and 12.
As we went to leave, Scovia’s father and Viola’s aunt put everyone in a circle holding hands for a prayer. I had expected a prayer. Nope. Margaret started singing and chanting in Luganda, Scovia’s father joined in, everyone started swaying, and Paul, Katie and I did our best to stay on our feet and not do something stupid.
Paul moved into my space yesterday because he is nearly out of money. He has changed his flight home to September 3rd. The neighbors who saw him move in here are likely talking… He jokingly suggested last night that we do each other’s hair and nails. He has a LOT of stuff, including his huge drum and his guitar, clothing, bed, etc. We are packed in here to the hilt. But since he will be gone for the next 7 days it doesn’t really matter. I will in fact miss him between the time he leaves for England and I leave for home. He has been great fun and good company in the evenings. I feel the same about Katie. I hope we can keep in touch since we all hope to return at some point.
Isaac came in this morning and said he needed my gum. I looked for chewing gum and wondered why he needed it. He said “No, your GUM”. I checked my teeth. After some back-and-forth, it turned out that he needed my duct tape to seal the boxes of clothing Paul was taking to Gulu. I could write a small book on the funny misunderstandings we have had between all of us, including the Muzungus. Paul’s Scottish/British slang and my American slang, occasionally mixed with Katie’s lip reading, have also caused confusion. In the end, it all works. Coming soon to a bookstore near you.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Party update
August 22
This is Sunday morning, I think it is August 22 but wouldn’t swear to it.
Last night’s party was a hit. We bought a little cake, some balloons and a small decoration for over the door. Paul made a birthday card and I made the sign. I’m so glad we did this party. Diana’s mother told her that she couldn’t visit her (and didn’t) and she was sad so she went to her grandmother’s house to invite her. Grandma couldn’t come either. Her father however, came and brought with him 9 of her girlfriends from school and 5 or 6 more nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles etc. When they heard the music, many neighbors came over as well. We ate cake, we threw balloons, drank warm soda (and a few warm beers), we danced, we played with the kids. I started to worry about mosquitoes since it had rained all day and went to my quarters at about 9PM, although it did no good. People just kept coming by for one reason or another, standing in the door, talking, with the door open. Getting malaria again would really stink and I did my best. The party was great, fear of mosquitos and all!!!
This morning Paul and Katie took off for the Rydar Hotel. I can’t go because one must get on a taxi to get there, so I went to the Colline. I bought a newspaper and was ready to read when Diana showed up. She heard that I was going to the Colline and assumed I was swimming. She showed up all ready for me to teach her to swim. Since I was unprepared to swim we had orange juice and talked. She had a terrific time last night and thanked me repeatedly. Then she started talking about Ugandan life, the LRA, bad magic, her beliefs. Mostly she spoke about how, when she grows up, she is going to be a doctor and help the Ugandan people. I would not be surprised if she did just that.
Must sign off, try to post this, and get ready to go meet Scovia’s mother.
This is Sunday morning, I think it is August 22 but wouldn’t swear to it.
Last night’s party was a hit. We bought a little cake, some balloons and a small decoration for over the door. Paul made a birthday card and I made the sign. I’m so glad we did this party. Diana’s mother told her that she couldn’t visit her (and didn’t) and she was sad so she went to her grandmother’s house to invite her. Grandma couldn’t come either. Her father however, came and brought with him 9 of her girlfriends from school and 5 or 6 more nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles etc. When they heard the music, many neighbors came over as well. We ate cake, we threw balloons, drank warm soda (and a few warm beers), we danced, we played with the kids. I started to worry about mosquitoes since it had rained all day and went to my quarters at about 9PM, although it did no good. People just kept coming by for one reason or another, standing in the door, talking, with the door open. Getting malaria again would really stink and I did my best. The party was great, fear of mosquitos and all!!!
This morning Paul and Katie took off for the Rydar Hotel. I can’t go because one must get on a taxi to get there, so I went to the Colline. I bought a newspaper and was ready to read when Diana showed up. She heard that I was going to the Colline and assumed I was swimming. She showed up all ready for me to teach her to swim. Since I was unprepared to swim we had orange juice and talked. She had a terrific time last night and thanked me repeatedly. Then she started talking about Ugandan life, the LRA, bad magic, her beliefs. Mostly she spoke about how, when she grows up, she is going to be a doctor and help the Ugandan people. I would not be surprised if she did just that.
Must sign off, try to post this, and get ready to go meet Scovia’s mother.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Party!
August 21
We were to attend an AIDS conference today. Isaac had told me it began at 8AM. So I was up and dressed by 730A. In typical Ugandan fashion, breakfast was served at 9AM. At 930A, Isaac came by to say an urgent issue had arisen and we weren’t going. As it turned out, it was one of those urgent human things that crop up but still…aaaarrrrrgh!
Around 11A my little neighbor girl Diana came by with a small book of family photos she wanted me to see. There were very few pictures, but one of her as a baby, several of her little brother, and one of the two of them being confirmed in church. She had made me two bracelets woven out of thread which she tied on me. As we talked, I learned that tomorrow is her 13th birthday. She was sad because (her parents are divorced and she lives with her father and his girlfriend) neither parent has money to buy a cake or to celebrate her “entry into womanhood”. She then went on to tell me how much her stepmother doesn’t like children. I believe her. This woman is very young, VERY beautiful, and a thorn in everyone’s side. After she left I went into town and purchased two pieces of heavy green paper. One will be used to make an origami frog and the other will become a birthday card. I think Paul has additional paper in his room but I am unsure. When he gets home this evening Ill ask him if he wants to throw an origami animal-making birthday party for Diana tomorrow. If he supplies the paper, I will buy Fanta Orange Drink for everyone.
Diana is a beautiful and truly bright young girl. Her parents can no longer afford to pay her school fees so she is hoping that an aunt will help her stay in school, but she is uncertain if that is possible. Two years ago her 11 year old brother was attending boarding school. The children were locked in their classroom when the matron decided to go home for awhile. Evidently one of the children lit a candle in the dormitory for light and the rest was fiery history. All of the children died, locked in a room with no windows. In Diana’s words, “The fire was so hot that there wasn’t even one single bone left of him”. She thinks she would feel better if there were at least a bone to bury. Following his death, Dad started drinking, lost his job, the family fell apart…as did their finances. Oh Man. I want tomorrow to be fun for her.
Momma Africa, her daughter Primah, and her granddaughter Patience finally arrived late today. Momma is over the malaria but still battling typhoid. She told me (through Primah) that she wants me to come back to the orphanage and stay for15 months. I told her again, the she would have to speak to my husband about that! While she is here, she has placed all of the orphans in individual homes for two days. She has been having difficulty securing enough food for the children and felt good knowing that all would be receiving meals while in their two-day foster homes.
I suggested the possibility of placing volunteers at her orphanage and she loved the idea. Her home is one of the nicer ones that I have visited and volunteers should like it. When I asked her what she could have volunteers to do to assist, she immediately said that she was getting chickens and would appreciate help building a house (coop) for the chickens. Also, she would like people to teach English, perhaps do medical care, help with laundry, and of course, spend time holding, playing with, and talking to the children. In short, she would be happy with anyone doing anything. Primah said that Paul and I made such an impact on the children that they are still talking about us. That feels good, but I wonder the value of any impact beyond entertainment we may have had.
When Momma left she gave me a small plastic container of skin cream she had made. I don’t know what or how effective it is, but it at least smells good. Primah said Momma also makes shoe polish. I asked if she could sell these things for income. No. She cant afford the containers. I suggested that living where she does, perhaps she could grow mushrooms to sell which are difficult to find here but which everyone seems to love. Primah will find out what she would need to do to cultivate some mushrooms. When they left I felt like crying, knowing that Id never see Momma again.
So I have an announcement. I am coming back in a year or two.
August 22, 2009
Last night Paul was sitting on my bed as we were having tea (the bed is the only furniture in the room and serves as bed, table, computer station, visitor seating, etc.). I don’t know what happened but suddenly he screamed, jumped up, and dropped his cup, pouring tea into all of my clean clothing on the floor by the bed. He had dropped his cup of steaming tea on himself. I tried pulling his shirt away from his skin as he frantically unbuttoned his shirt to get it off, but he had a nice burn on his stomach and part of his back nonetheless. I poured a bottle of cool water on him and that seemed to help. This morning he says he is fine but I wonder how he could be??? Could be a job for Osmotics Blue Copper and antibiotic ointment if he changes his mind.
Remember the truck that comes by selling charcoal with music blaring that I referenced in an earlier blog? This morning Paul and I were sitting out front eating breakfast when the truck came by and all the children came out to dance to the music. There is always two people in the cab of the truck, and one woman riding in the back to help distribute the charcoal. This morning the Muzungus on the porch started to dance to the music and the woman in the back of the truck nearly fell out laughing. Then the adult neighbors saw us and started pointing our direction and laughing too. We are, in fact, the village idiots.
While outside we started hearing a noise that we couldn’t figure out at first. It got louder and louder until we realized that a terrific rain storm was moving our way and the sound was the rain pounding the metal roofs of the village. I ran inside, but it came so quickly that Paul and the others didn’t quite make it.
I am inside preparing for Diana’s birthday celebration while it rains. I have made a sign for my door that says
BEACON OF HOPE UGANDA
INTERNATIONAL HEADQUARTERS
VOLUNTEER DIVISION
(PARTY CENTRAL)
When the rain stops we will go buy a cake (you buy them in the store and they are like concrete, but very pretty) and hopefully be able to find some balloons. Paul is buying the cake and I am buying balloons and soda. Paul donated his origami book to Budibika Hospital and so we are unsure that we can make anything other than the frogs—and that only by taking the ones we have already made and unfolding them to see how we did it Still, we have pick up sticks, cards, bubbles that I made earlier to blow at the orphanage, and the IPod for music. We are inviting Diana’s brother, Isaac, Scovia, Alice, Viola, Happiness, Scovia II (another young woman who just moved here with her baby), and all of the neighborhood children. Katie arrives today so she will be here too. Paul is practicing playing Happy Birthday to You on his guitar and harmonica. Sounds like a party to me!
Sunday morning...
Just a quick note while I have internet. The party last night was WONDERFUL and Diana was thrilled/ More on the party later, but aqbout 40 neighbors showed up and we danced until the Muzungus dropped. The Ugandans continued dancing. Katie is here which made it even more fun. She and I are now sharing my space for a few days and then she is off to Tanzania.
Off now before I lose the internet connection.
We were to attend an AIDS conference today. Isaac had told me it began at 8AM. So I was up and dressed by 730A. In typical Ugandan fashion, breakfast was served at 9AM. At 930A, Isaac came by to say an urgent issue had arisen and we weren’t going. As it turned out, it was one of those urgent human things that crop up but still…aaaarrrrrgh!
Around 11A my little neighbor girl Diana came by with a small book of family photos she wanted me to see. There were very few pictures, but one of her as a baby, several of her little brother, and one of the two of them being confirmed in church. She had made me two bracelets woven out of thread which she tied on me. As we talked, I learned that tomorrow is her 13th birthday. She was sad because (her parents are divorced and she lives with her father and his girlfriend) neither parent has money to buy a cake or to celebrate her “entry into womanhood”. She then went on to tell me how much her stepmother doesn’t like children. I believe her. This woman is very young, VERY beautiful, and a thorn in everyone’s side. After she left I went into town and purchased two pieces of heavy green paper. One will be used to make an origami frog and the other will become a birthday card. I think Paul has additional paper in his room but I am unsure. When he gets home this evening Ill ask him if he wants to throw an origami animal-making birthday party for Diana tomorrow. If he supplies the paper, I will buy Fanta Orange Drink for everyone.
Diana is a beautiful and truly bright young girl. Her parents can no longer afford to pay her school fees so she is hoping that an aunt will help her stay in school, but she is uncertain if that is possible. Two years ago her 11 year old brother was attending boarding school. The children were locked in their classroom when the matron decided to go home for awhile. Evidently one of the children lit a candle in the dormitory for light and the rest was fiery history. All of the children died, locked in a room with no windows. In Diana’s words, “The fire was so hot that there wasn’t even one single bone left of him”. She thinks she would feel better if there were at least a bone to bury. Following his death, Dad started drinking, lost his job, the family fell apart…as did their finances. Oh Man. I want tomorrow to be fun for her.
Momma Africa, her daughter Primah, and her granddaughter Patience finally arrived late today. Momma is over the malaria but still battling typhoid. She told me (through Primah) that she wants me to come back to the orphanage and stay for15 months. I told her again, the she would have to speak to my husband about that! While she is here, she has placed all of the orphans in individual homes for two days. She has been having difficulty securing enough food for the children and felt good knowing that all would be receiving meals while in their two-day foster homes.
I suggested the possibility of placing volunteers at her orphanage and she loved the idea. Her home is one of the nicer ones that I have visited and volunteers should like it. When I asked her what she could have volunteers to do to assist, she immediately said that she was getting chickens and would appreciate help building a house (coop) for the chickens. Also, she would like people to teach English, perhaps do medical care, help with laundry, and of course, spend time holding, playing with, and talking to the children. In short, she would be happy with anyone doing anything. Primah said that Paul and I made such an impact on the children that they are still talking about us. That feels good, but I wonder the value of any impact beyond entertainment we may have had.
When Momma left she gave me a small plastic container of skin cream she had made. I don’t know what or how effective it is, but it at least smells good. Primah said Momma also makes shoe polish. I asked if she could sell these things for income. No. She cant afford the containers. I suggested that living where she does, perhaps she could grow mushrooms to sell which are difficult to find here but which everyone seems to love. Primah will find out what she would need to do to cultivate some mushrooms. When they left I felt like crying, knowing that Id never see Momma again.
So I have an announcement. I am coming back in a year or two.
August 22, 2009
Last night Paul was sitting on my bed as we were having tea (the bed is the only furniture in the room and serves as bed, table, computer station, visitor seating, etc.). I don’t know what happened but suddenly he screamed, jumped up, and dropped his cup, pouring tea into all of my clean clothing on the floor by the bed. He had dropped his cup of steaming tea on himself. I tried pulling his shirt away from his skin as he frantically unbuttoned his shirt to get it off, but he had a nice burn on his stomach and part of his back nonetheless. I poured a bottle of cool water on him and that seemed to help. This morning he says he is fine but I wonder how he could be??? Could be a job for Osmotics Blue Copper and antibiotic ointment if he changes his mind.
Remember the truck that comes by selling charcoal with music blaring that I referenced in an earlier blog? This morning Paul and I were sitting out front eating breakfast when the truck came by and all the children came out to dance to the music. There is always two people in the cab of the truck, and one woman riding in the back to help distribute the charcoal. This morning the Muzungus on the porch started to dance to the music and the woman in the back of the truck nearly fell out laughing. Then the adult neighbors saw us and started pointing our direction and laughing too. We are, in fact, the village idiots.
While outside we started hearing a noise that we couldn’t figure out at first. It got louder and louder until we realized that a terrific rain storm was moving our way and the sound was the rain pounding the metal roofs of the village. I ran inside, but it came so quickly that Paul and the others didn’t quite make it.
I am inside preparing for Diana’s birthday celebration while it rains. I have made a sign for my door that says
BEACON OF HOPE UGANDA
INTERNATIONAL HEADQUARTERS
VOLUNTEER DIVISION
(PARTY CENTRAL)
When the rain stops we will go buy a cake (you buy them in the store and they are like concrete, but very pretty) and hopefully be able to find some balloons. Paul is buying the cake and I am buying balloons and soda. Paul donated his origami book to Budibika Hospital and so we are unsure that we can make anything other than the frogs—and that only by taking the ones we have already made and unfolding them to see how we did it Still, we have pick up sticks, cards, bubbles that I made earlier to blow at the orphanage, and the IPod for music. We are inviting Diana’s brother, Isaac, Scovia, Alice, Viola, Happiness, Scovia II (another young woman who just moved here with her baby), and all of the neighborhood children. Katie arrives today so she will be here too. Paul is practicing playing Happy Birthday to You on his guitar and harmonica. Sounds like a party to me!
Sunday morning...
Just a quick note while I have internet. The party last night was WONDERFUL and Diana was thrilled/ More on the party later, but aqbout 40 neighbors showed up and we danced until the Muzungus dropped. The Ugandans continued dancing. Katie is here which made it even more fun. She and I are now sharing my space for a few days and then she is off to Tanzania.
Off now before I lose the internet connection.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
A TINY bit of news, but it is good stuff!
August 17?
Good News!!! The Minister of _______ in Kampala (I cant keep them straight, but he has something to do with our equivalent of Social Services) accepted my concept paper and pending a full proposal, yesterday agreed to give us one acre of land for our orphanage and training center. We really need a minimum of three acres for gardens and animal rearing to make it truly self sustainable—my paper asked for five—but with one acre in hand I feel like I have a better shot on securing the rest. Woo Hooooo!
Greg, Son-in-Law Extraordinaire, generously secured two nights at the Kampala Sheraton at his employee rate for my last two nights in Uganda. I am excited. My plan is to enjoy a genuine shower and eat food other than matoke, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and spaghetti (starch) in the evenings. As good as those things are, perhaps something green in color on my plate would be welcome. . . I plan to use those two days visiting the American and Irish Embassies to discuss their community granting process, and to put an actual “face” on any future proposals with the staff. Paul has also asked me to help him put together a paper for the Ministry of Health, on behalf of community mental health services. This is actually just one step in what needs to be a country-wide policy and attitude change toward mental illness. If that is done in time (chances are it will be since I have so much time on my hands right now), then I will try to deliver that as well while there.
Spent most of the day working on a website—or at least writing for the website. That filled up what would be an otherwise boring day. Late afternoon I thought I would scream and had to get outside. Scovia grabbed the baby and a mat and the three of us lay under a tree next to the road, and became the impromptu entertainment for anyone walking up the road. There aren’t a lot of Muzungu’s hanging around under trees in anyone’s village!
August 18
I agreed to meet John this morning for one hour at the Colline to start instructing him on how to write a business plan and Fundraising 101. (Open air…no enclosed spaces…no crowds…I continue to follow doc’s instructions.) He was there early. Good thing too, because I would have totally written him off had he not shown up today. I cant help but like this guy. He is so genuinely caring. But for all of his good intent, he doesn’t have a business bone in his body to carry him through.
When I first saw John this morning he looked ill, and he said he had a headache. Later I learned that his headache and lack of appetite had almost forced him to go home in the middle of the day yesterday. He said he had never before quit in mid day, so he stuck it out. I asked him if he thought he had malaria and he said shrugged his shoulders. I suggested he go get tested and he sort of agreed, but was pretty vague. It became obvious that he wasn’t going to get tested, but didn’t want to lie to me about it. Midway through our visit it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t going to get tested because he had no money! I asked him if he would get tested if I paid for it. He was embarrassed, but accepted. I gave him 15,000 (about $7.50) for testing and am waiting to hear back from him.
I am surrounded by malaria. Momma Africa was on her way here but is now stuck in a clinic in Kampala—diagnosed with malaria AND typhoid! She still thinks she will be well enough to travel here by Friday. Yeah, right. I read in the paper yesterday that 80,000 people die every year in Tanzania. I wonder what the stats are in Uganda?
The Ugandan Phone Trick
Numerous times I pick up my phone and it says I’ve missed a message from one of my Ugandan friends. Or the phone rings once and then just registers a missed call. I have finally figured out that they call my number, let it ring once, and know I will eventually call them back. This way, any conversation is charged against my phone and not theirs. I don’t mind. It is just that it took a while for me to figure this out.
Good News!!! The Minister of _______ in Kampala (I cant keep them straight, but he has something to do with our equivalent of Social Services) accepted my concept paper and pending a full proposal, yesterday agreed to give us one acre of land for our orphanage and training center. We really need a minimum of three acres for gardens and animal rearing to make it truly self sustainable—my paper asked for five—but with one acre in hand I feel like I have a better shot on securing the rest. Woo Hooooo!
Greg, Son-in-Law Extraordinaire, generously secured two nights at the Kampala Sheraton at his employee rate for my last two nights in Uganda. I am excited. My plan is to enjoy a genuine shower and eat food other than matoke, potatoes, sweet potatoes, and spaghetti (starch) in the evenings. As good as those things are, perhaps something green in color on my plate would be welcome. . . I plan to use those two days visiting the American and Irish Embassies to discuss their community granting process, and to put an actual “face” on any future proposals with the staff. Paul has also asked me to help him put together a paper for the Ministry of Health, on behalf of community mental health services. This is actually just one step in what needs to be a country-wide policy and attitude change toward mental illness. If that is done in time (chances are it will be since I have so much time on my hands right now), then I will try to deliver that as well while there.
Spent most of the day working on a website—or at least writing for the website. That filled up what would be an otherwise boring day. Late afternoon I thought I would scream and had to get outside. Scovia grabbed the baby and a mat and the three of us lay under a tree next to the road, and became the impromptu entertainment for anyone walking up the road. There aren’t a lot of Muzungu’s hanging around under trees in anyone’s village!
August 18
I agreed to meet John this morning for one hour at the Colline to start instructing him on how to write a business plan and Fundraising 101. (Open air…no enclosed spaces…no crowds…I continue to follow doc’s instructions.) He was there early. Good thing too, because I would have totally written him off had he not shown up today. I cant help but like this guy. He is so genuinely caring. But for all of his good intent, he doesn’t have a business bone in his body to carry him through.
When I first saw John this morning he looked ill, and he said he had a headache. Later I learned that his headache and lack of appetite had almost forced him to go home in the middle of the day yesterday. He said he had never before quit in mid day, so he stuck it out. I asked him if he thought he had malaria and he said shrugged his shoulders. I suggested he go get tested and he sort of agreed, but was pretty vague. It became obvious that he wasn’t going to get tested, but didn’t want to lie to me about it. Midway through our visit it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t going to get tested because he had no money! I asked him if he would get tested if I paid for it. He was embarrassed, but accepted. I gave him 15,000 (about $7.50) for testing and am waiting to hear back from him.
I am surrounded by malaria. Momma Africa was on her way here but is now stuck in a clinic in Kampala—diagnosed with malaria AND typhoid! She still thinks she will be well enough to travel here by Friday. Yeah, right. I read in the paper yesterday that 80,000 people die every year in Tanzania. I wonder what the stats are in Uganda?
The Ugandan Phone Trick
Numerous times I pick up my phone and it says I’ve missed a message from one of my Ugandan friends. Or the phone rings once and then just registers a missed call. I have finally figured out that they call my number, let it ring once, and know I will eventually call them back. This way, any conversation is charged against my phone and not theirs. I don’t mind. It is just that it took a while for me to figure this out.
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