of course i have never taken a boda-boda. [motorcycle taxi] that would be against the program rules and dangerous. but, if i had taken a boda-boda, i might say that it is one of my favorite ways to travel. it is terrifying at first, and you cling white-knuckled to the seat (or the driver), and shout “mpola, mpola ssebo!” [slow down, sir!] at every turn. but if you just get over your fear and go with it, it is amazing.
the bumps that knock you up off the seat become a chance to fly for an instant. it feels delightfully reckless to clamber onto the back of the motorbike and listen to the engines rev, to feel the jolt of the first dips and sharp turns to weave around the potholes and ditches in the path. by evening, the air has finally lost the sweltering heat of the day and feels cool and dewy whooshing past, whipping at my face and hair. i love to tip my head back and look up at the stars as we zip along, marveling at how clear they are. and when we pass the banana field near st. peter’s church, i turn my head to take in the most incredible view: the whole city is stretched out before me, with the great hills of kampala rising and falling like waves that fade into the night sky. the bahá'í temple on the hill glows softly and all along the hills is a blanket of scattered lights that twinkle like stars. and i think to myself, i can’t believe how lucky i am to be here, riding along and seeing what i’m seeing, because this is one of the most beautiful places on earth.
that is, if i had ever taken a boda-boda, of course.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
emmere--food
i am afraid i am growing quite tired of ugandan food. at my homestay, we never have any fruit. or vegetables. or meat. or sweets. or dairy.
in fact, we never have anything except rice & beans and potatoes.
every meal there, every day for two months: rice & beans with potatoes. except breakfast, which consists of tea. i guess most of the world eats like this, and i should feel lucky to have beans with the rice and sufficient quantities of each that i don't go hungry. it's a good experience, i suppose. though boring. and i'm quite thankful i brought a bottle of multivitamins with me on this trip.
i am getting rather bored of ugandan food in general. it is not that i dislike it, per se. it is just that... there is very little variety. and it is approximately 99% carbohydrates, and nearly all of it heavy, starchy, and mushy. a full ugandan meal contains the following: posho (maize mush), matooke (plantain mush), white rice, irish*, sweet potatoes, beans, and maybe some meat chunks. there aren't really a lot of different dishes in the ugandan diet--it's all just as many of the starches as you can afford with beans dumped on top.
[*"irish" this is the term for white potatoes. it is rarely called by its full name, irish potatoes. this can lead to awkward sentences such as "aren't you going to eat some of the irish tonight?"]
in luganda, the word for food, "emmere," only encompasses the starchy staples; other edibles are not considered food, but are called sauces or fruits. there is no general word for "food," in the sense we use it. this carries over into english. i was at a restaurant once, and i asked "may i have beans, greens, and a banana?" the incredulous waiter said, "what, don't you want any food!?" he returned three times before bringing the order, trying to convince me to "eat some food" for lunch. i feel that the atkins diet would not be especially popular here.
on a more serious note, the ugandan diet is not especially high in a lot of vitamins and nutrients, especially for poor ugandans. such nutrients would come from fruits and vegetables and a variety of other foods which are readily available at any market, but far too expensive for much of the population to eat on a regular basis. we visited a children's malnutrition clinic a few weeks ago, which was absolutely heartbreaking--tiny children lying listless and skeletal on their beds, others with bloated bellies or swollen limbs, others severely stunted in size and suffering the irreversible mental impairments caused by childhood malnutrition.
i was surprised to learn that most of the malnutrition cases they treat at the clinic are not due to a complete lack of food, but to a lack of nutritious food. there are many cases, in both children and adults, where the person is not even significantly underweight (and may even be overweight, as many ugandans are), yet is severely malnourished. anyway, at the clinic, after the children were treated for several weeks with UNICEF-donated formula, their mothers were given classes in proper nutrition. as we observed the classes, i was quite sad to note that despite the nurses' best efforts, the problem was unlikely to be resolved. the mothers came in in tattered clothes, sometimes with a half-dozen other children in tow. they nodded along as they were advised to feed their children fish and greens, milk and guavas, though this was obviously completely infeasible considering their economic state.
sorry for that depressing interlude. on a happier note, at least it is rather easy to be vegetarian here, though people still find the concept quite strange. when i first told my host mother that i didn't eat meat, she said, "oh, bambi! [sorry for you, what a shame]--were you born that way, or did you catch it recently?" and on our rural homestay last week, when i told them, they said "oh, don't worry, we will take you to the local healer tomorrow--his hut is not far from here. he has so many herbs and traditional remedies, he will surely be able to fix you, and you'll be eating meat in no time!"
in fact, if i needed any more convincing that being vegetarian is the way to go, i would find it by coming here. the ubiquitous butchers here leave nothing to the imagination: they strip animals of their skin and hang them whole from metal hooks over the doors to their stalls. their counters sport piles of intestines, gutted torsos, and huge chunks of raw meat. the red flesh marbleizes with the white fat, and all are splattered with swarms of flies and other bugs. one of the most popular dishes here is goat's meat, and other delicacies include fish heads, cow tongues, and animal intestines.
i also find the transport of meat animals a bit strange. you will sometimes see a dozen live goats, feet bound and bleating, tied to the roof of a van on the highway. live chickens are put in plastic bags, tied tight so they can't flap, with their heads poking out the top. you will sometimes see them under peoples' seats on buses like clucking handbags. in other cases, they are stuffed six at a time into the front baskets of boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis). i once saw a fellow walking down the street holding a handful of dead chickens by the feet.
but on the topic of foods that i actually eat, i am extremely thankful that there is so much indian influence in uganda, as this has led to an abundance of street vendors selling chapatis and samosas. these foods are the staples of my diet when i am not eating with my host family. i actually learned to make chapatis a few weeks ago--it was fun, and not such a hard process as i though it would be. the trickiest bit is the frying. you have to make sure the fire is just hot enough--too cool will leave the chapatis tough and white, and too much will burn them before you can flip them. it is occasionally necessary to pull the pan off and dunk it in water to keep it from getting too hot. you must continuously rotate the chapatis on the pan. this is generally done with your fingers, as is the flipping--but i was lame and afraid of burning, and used a fork. the scariest bit is adding oil to the pan--it was nearing nightfall and rather dark, and i was quite nervous i would spill it and make the flames come roaring up and burn me. but luckily this didn't happen, and i was really pleased with how they turned out. when i get home, i think i will cook them often. in fact, i think i will cook a full ugandan meal when i return, just to remember the interesting culinary experience this trip has been.
in fact, we never have anything except rice & beans and potatoes.
every meal there, every day for two months: rice & beans with potatoes. except breakfast, which consists of tea. i guess most of the world eats like this, and i should feel lucky to have beans with the rice and sufficient quantities of each that i don't go hungry. it's a good experience, i suppose. though boring. and i'm quite thankful i brought a bottle of multivitamins with me on this trip.
i am getting rather bored of ugandan food in general. it is not that i dislike it, per se. it is just that... there is very little variety. and it is approximately 99% carbohydrates, and nearly all of it heavy, starchy, and mushy. a full ugandan meal contains the following: posho (maize mush), matooke (plantain mush), white rice, irish*, sweet potatoes, beans, and maybe some meat chunks. there aren't really a lot of different dishes in the ugandan diet--it's all just as many of the starches as you can afford with beans dumped on top.
[*"irish" this is the term for white potatoes. it is rarely called by its full name, irish potatoes. this can lead to awkward sentences such as "aren't you going to eat some of the irish tonight?"]
in luganda, the word for food, "emmere," only encompasses the starchy staples; other edibles are not considered food, but are called sauces or fruits. there is no general word for "food," in the sense we use it. this carries over into english. i was at a restaurant once, and i asked "may i have beans, greens, and a banana?" the incredulous waiter said, "what, don't you want any food!?" he returned three times before bringing the order, trying to convince me to "eat some food" for lunch. i feel that the atkins diet would not be especially popular here.
on a more serious note, the ugandan diet is not especially high in a lot of vitamins and nutrients, especially for poor ugandans. such nutrients would come from fruits and vegetables and a variety of other foods which are readily available at any market, but far too expensive for much of the population to eat on a regular basis. we visited a children's malnutrition clinic a few weeks ago, which was absolutely heartbreaking--tiny children lying listless and skeletal on their beds, others with bloated bellies or swollen limbs, others severely stunted in size and suffering the irreversible mental impairments caused by childhood malnutrition.
i was surprised to learn that most of the malnutrition cases they treat at the clinic are not due to a complete lack of food, but to a lack of nutritious food. there are many cases, in both children and adults, where the person is not even significantly underweight (and may even be overweight, as many ugandans are), yet is severely malnourished. anyway, at the clinic, after the children were treated for several weeks with UNICEF-donated formula, their mothers were given classes in proper nutrition. as we observed the classes, i was quite sad to note that despite the nurses' best efforts, the problem was unlikely to be resolved. the mothers came in in tattered clothes, sometimes with a half-dozen other children in tow. they nodded along as they were advised to feed their children fish and greens, milk and guavas, though this was obviously completely infeasible considering their economic state.
sorry for that depressing interlude. on a happier note, at least it is rather easy to be vegetarian here, though people still find the concept quite strange. when i first told my host mother that i didn't eat meat, she said, "oh, bambi! [sorry for you, what a shame]--were you born that way, or did you catch it recently?" and on our rural homestay last week, when i told them, they said "oh, don't worry, we will take you to the local healer tomorrow--his hut is not far from here. he has so many herbs and traditional remedies, he will surely be able to fix you, and you'll be eating meat in no time!"
in fact, if i needed any more convincing that being vegetarian is the way to go, i would find it by coming here. the ubiquitous butchers here leave nothing to the imagination: they strip animals of their skin and hang them whole from metal hooks over the doors to their stalls. their counters sport piles of intestines, gutted torsos, and huge chunks of raw meat. the red flesh marbleizes with the white fat, and all are splattered with swarms of flies and other bugs. one of the most popular dishes here is goat's meat, and other delicacies include fish heads, cow tongues, and animal intestines.
i also find the transport of meat animals a bit strange. you will sometimes see a dozen live goats, feet bound and bleating, tied to the roof of a van on the highway. live chickens are put in plastic bags, tied tight so they can't flap, with their heads poking out the top. you will sometimes see them under peoples' seats on buses like clucking handbags. in other cases, they are stuffed six at a time into the front baskets of boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis). i once saw a fellow walking down the street holding a handful of dead chickens by the feet.
but on the topic of foods that i actually eat, i am extremely thankful that there is so much indian influence in uganda, as this has led to an abundance of street vendors selling chapatis and samosas. these foods are the staples of my diet when i am not eating with my host family. i actually learned to make chapatis a few weeks ago--it was fun, and not such a hard process as i though it would be. the trickiest bit is the frying. you have to make sure the fire is just hot enough--too cool will leave the chapatis tough and white, and too much will burn them before you can flip them. it is occasionally necessary to pull the pan off and dunk it in water to keep it from getting too hot. you must continuously rotate the chapatis on the pan. this is generally done with your fingers, as is the flipping--but i was lame and afraid of burning, and used a fork. the scariest bit is adding oil to the pan--it was nearing nightfall and rather dark, and i was quite nervous i would spill it and make the flames come roaring up and burn me. but luckily this didn't happen, and i was really pleased with how they turned out. when i get home, i think i will cook them often. in fact, i think i will cook a full ugandan meal when i return, just to remember the interesting culinary experience this trip has been.
Monday, March 2, 2009
close to home
i have been talking more and more with my host brother, morris. (i suppose he is technically my host cousin, but distinctions like that are a bit vague here.) he is 20, like me, and is a quiet and friendly sort. he's been giving me impromptu lessons in the acholi language, as he is from the north, and teaching me to cook ugandan food. last week, when i had to write a report about land use in the area, he spent several hours taking me around the village explaining what crops were grown where.
we were talking the other day as we played with little jojo and eva, when i brought up a rather heavy question. i'd hesitated to ask about it, but really wanted to hear his perspective, so i asked "do you think the war will end soon?" he paused for a long moment and and then launched into a discussion about the potential and drawbacks of a military solution, the likelihood of a successful peace deal, the complexity of the political situation. we'd been debating about it for quite a while when he said quitely:
"you know, i barely escaped being captured by the LRA."
"WHAT!?" i exclaimed, in complete shock.
"yes. i was in primary school--third grade-- at a boarding school in gulu. i am from there, that's where i was born and grew up, and i still have family there. anyway, at that time there was a lot of rebel attacks in gulu, and schools were the primary target--for capturing children to make them into child soldiers. most schools were guarded by UPDF [government] soldiers. but each day, they changed the guard and gave the soldiers a break--to eat, bathe, take a nap. and somehow the LRA learned of when that change was. that was when they attacked.
"the belltower in the chapel started ringing in alarm. we were so scared. there were two dormitories for the boys--one was sturdy, with thick walls bullets couldn't get through. the other was not very secure, with thin walls and a flimsy door. i was in that dormitory.
"there was no time to try to get to the other dormitory. if i had tried to run there, the rebels would have captured me for sure--they had already broken into the campus, were running between the buildings, looking for boys.
"i didn't know what to do, where to go, there was no way to escape. there was nowhere to hide except under the bed. so i crawled under and stayed there, very still and very, very quiet. the rebels broke into the dorm, burst into the bedroom. i saw their boots as they ran past, and held by breath to keep from making any noise.
"but by this point the UPDF soldiers had heard the bells, had seen that the rebels were attacking the school, and ran back to fight them off. the LRA realized they had to get out fast if they were to escape the government soldiers, and that searching any longer for captives would slow them down too much. so as the UPDF came back onto the campus, the LRA ran away. and i escaped. after that i left school and came south to live here with my aunt in kampala."
after his story, i didn't know what to say. i couldn't say anything, i was in such shock. i just looked at his grave face in the candlelight, trying to process what i had just heard. i thought of the book sitting next to me, an account of a child soldier in sierra leone, of the reports on human rights abuses committed by the LRA sitting on my desk. but for the grace of a few minutes time, the loundess of a bell, the speed of his legs, the luck of his hiding place, the haste of the rebels, that could have been him.
he could have been a child soldier. he could have been forced to commit atrocities. he could have been killed in ways too brutal to even think about. he could have been indoctronated and terrorized and turned into a killer himself. he might still be there, in the forests of congo, forced to attack civilians and wreak havoc in the region. maybe over the years of indoctronation, exposure to and forced participation in such violence he would have come to believe in the rebel cause, and be leading others into battle to capture more children just like him.
and this is morris we are talking about. morris, who loves playing with his little cousins and helping his aunt in the kitchen, who flirts with all the girls in the village, who likes rhianna and break dancing, who laughs good-naturedly when he beats me at cards, who is always ready to lend a hand or offer a kind word, who is one of the most gentle people i have ever met. and he could so easily have been a child soldier.
i am so, so thankful that he wasn't captured, that he escaped that awful fate. but what of the other 66,000 children who were not so lucky?
this horrible, horrible war has gone on for longer than he has even been alive! it has caused such terrible destruction, and throughout, the main victims of the violence have been children. the political motivations seem to have slipped away into a mess of raw violence and revenge. the rebels are brutal, the government is repressive, and the situation is so complex that every step forward towards peace bursts into a hydra of new problems, complications, and fresh violence. i have read about it and studied the situation for years. but this was the first time i had ever come face to face (literally) with the reality of the war. with the force with which it has permeated society, with the people whose lives it has scarred. it affected me very deeply. and i wondered, as i have so many times before:
will this war ever end?
we were talking the other day as we played with little jojo and eva, when i brought up a rather heavy question. i'd hesitated to ask about it, but really wanted to hear his perspective, so i asked "do you think the war will end soon?" he paused for a long moment and and then launched into a discussion about the potential and drawbacks of a military solution, the likelihood of a successful peace deal, the complexity of the political situation. we'd been debating about it for quite a while when he said quitely:
"you know, i barely escaped being captured by the LRA."
"WHAT!?" i exclaimed, in complete shock.
"yes. i was in primary school--third grade-- at a boarding school in gulu. i am from there, that's where i was born and grew up, and i still have family there. anyway, at that time there was a lot of rebel attacks in gulu, and schools were the primary target--for capturing children to make them into child soldiers. most schools were guarded by UPDF [government] soldiers. but each day, they changed the guard and gave the soldiers a break--to eat, bathe, take a nap. and somehow the LRA learned of when that change was. that was when they attacked.
"the belltower in the chapel started ringing in alarm. we were so scared. there were two dormitories for the boys--one was sturdy, with thick walls bullets couldn't get through. the other was not very secure, with thin walls and a flimsy door. i was in that dormitory.
"there was no time to try to get to the other dormitory. if i had tried to run there, the rebels would have captured me for sure--they had already broken into the campus, were running between the buildings, looking for boys.
"i didn't know what to do, where to go, there was no way to escape. there was nowhere to hide except under the bed. so i crawled under and stayed there, very still and very, very quiet. the rebels broke into the dorm, burst into the bedroom. i saw their boots as they ran past, and held by breath to keep from making any noise.
"but by this point the UPDF soldiers had heard the bells, had seen that the rebels were attacking the school, and ran back to fight them off. the LRA realized they had to get out fast if they were to escape the government soldiers, and that searching any longer for captives would slow them down too much. so as the UPDF came back onto the campus, the LRA ran away. and i escaped. after that i left school and came south to live here with my aunt in kampala."
after his story, i didn't know what to say. i couldn't say anything, i was in such shock. i just looked at his grave face in the candlelight, trying to process what i had just heard. i thought of the book sitting next to me, an account of a child soldier in sierra leone, of the reports on human rights abuses committed by the LRA sitting on my desk. but for the grace of a few minutes time, the loundess of a bell, the speed of his legs, the luck of his hiding place, the haste of the rebels, that could have been him.
he could have been a child soldier. he could have been forced to commit atrocities. he could have been killed in ways too brutal to even think about. he could have been indoctronated and terrorized and turned into a killer himself. he might still be there, in the forests of congo, forced to attack civilians and wreak havoc in the region. maybe over the years of indoctronation, exposure to and forced participation in such violence he would have come to believe in the rebel cause, and be leading others into battle to capture more children just like him.
and this is morris we are talking about. morris, who loves playing with his little cousins and helping his aunt in the kitchen, who flirts with all the girls in the village, who likes rhianna and break dancing, who laughs good-naturedly when he beats me at cards, who is always ready to lend a hand or offer a kind word, who is one of the most gentle people i have ever met. and he could so easily have been a child soldier.
i am so, so thankful that he wasn't captured, that he escaped that awful fate. but what of the other 66,000 children who were not so lucky?
this horrible, horrible war has gone on for longer than he has even been alive! it has caused such terrible destruction, and throughout, the main victims of the violence have been children. the political motivations seem to have slipped away into a mess of raw violence and revenge. the rebels are brutal, the government is repressive, and the situation is so complex that every step forward towards peace bursts into a hydra of new problems, complications, and fresh violence. i have read about it and studied the situation for years. but this was the first time i had ever come face to face (literally) with the reality of the war. with the force with which it has permeated society, with the people whose lives it has scarred. it affected me very deeply. and i wondered, as i have so many times before:
will this war ever end?
Saturday, February 14, 2009
i can't believe i've only been here for a little over a week. i feel like it's been at least a few months. i'm finally starting to feel settled, acclimated, at home here. i don't get too lost wandering the dirt roads of the village and navigating the bus routes anymore, and i haven't been run over by a boda-boda nor eaten by a giant stork yet, so things are looking up.
luganda is starting to make a little bit of sense now. we've moved on from learning random phrases to some grammar structures, which blessedly bear a strong resemblance to spanish--the words themselves are quite different, but the structure of verb conjugations is similar, with first second and third persons, singular and plural, except luganda uses prefixes rather than suffixes to denote the subject. the other day on a bus, the fellow i was sitting next to said something in luganda to his friend, to the effect of "here comes a white girl, she can't understand luganda." and i replied in luganda "good afternoon, sir, how are you today?" the whole bus roared with laughter.
on an entirely unrelated note: i see more guns in one day here than i have in my entire life in the U.S. i suppose it comes from being a country whose history has been pockmarked with coups and rebellions nearly since its inception. but outside every bank, most electronics stores, and even many houses there are uniformed guards holding rifles. i even passed by an elementary school the other day that had an armed guard posted at the gate! i also passed by a UPDF (national army) roadblock checkpoint, and cringed internally, remembering what i'd read about their human rights abuses. i see truckloads of armed men driving past every so often--police, i think, or private security guards. and it's not so uncommon to see someone walking down the street with a huge gun strapped to their back. i think it's interesting that even women are employed in some gun-bearing professions--i have seen quite a few women wearing uniforms of ankle-length khaki dresses with the black strap of a gun slung across their chests.
we had a very interesting lecture yesterday about the war in northern uganda. the speaker basically said that there was no way there could be a peaceful resolution to the conflict as kony has no incentives to come out of the bush and surrender or sign a peace agreement. he said that the solution must be to kill kony or to hope that there will be a rebellion from within the LRA forces that would oust him from power, at which point the rebellion would disintegrate. however, the speaker was very critical of the current military operation, and said that the only way one could be successful is with a beat attack--killing kony with a quick strike right from the start, and not through a prolonged campaign. but this can only be achieved with better intelligence. i'm not sure i totally agree with him, but he made some very interesting points, and it was pretty incredible to talk to someone who actually has personal experience negotiating with the LRA.
i've submitted my first proposal on a possible research topic for my thesis: i want to look at educational resources for former child soldiers and internally displaced children in northern Uganda. i'm starting to look at possible ngos where i might be able to intern and conduct research. it's all very exciting, and starting to come together, though i am a bit sketchy on the specifics of how i will actually go about this project. ah well, i have a few weeks to plan...
luganda is starting to make a little bit of sense now. we've moved on from learning random phrases to some grammar structures, which blessedly bear a strong resemblance to spanish--the words themselves are quite different, but the structure of verb conjugations is similar, with first second and third persons, singular and plural, except luganda uses prefixes rather than suffixes to denote the subject. the other day on a bus, the fellow i was sitting next to said something in luganda to his friend, to the effect of "here comes a white girl, she can't understand luganda." and i replied in luganda "good afternoon, sir, how are you today?" the whole bus roared with laughter.
on an entirely unrelated note: i see more guns in one day here than i have in my entire life in the U.S. i suppose it comes from being a country whose history has been pockmarked with coups and rebellions nearly since its inception. but outside every bank, most electronics stores, and even many houses there are uniformed guards holding rifles. i even passed by an elementary school the other day that had an armed guard posted at the gate! i also passed by a UPDF (national army) roadblock checkpoint, and cringed internally, remembering what i'd read about their human rights abuses. i see truckloads of armed men driving past every so often--police, i think, or private security guards. and it's not so uncommon to see someone walking down the street with a huge gun strapped to their back. i think it's interesting that even women are employed in some gun-bearing professions--i have seen quite a few women wearing uniforms of ankle-length khaki dresses with the black strap of a gun slung across their chests.
we had a very interesting lecture yesterday about the war in northern uganda. the speaker basically said that there was no way there could be a peaceful resolution to the conflict as kony has no incentives to come out of the bush and surrender or sign a peace agreement. he said that the solution must be to kill kony or to hope that there will be a rebellion from within the LRA forces that would oust him from power, at which point the rebellion would disintegrate. however, the speaker was very critical of the current military operation, and said that the only way one could be successful is with a beat attack--killing kony with a quick strike right from the start, and not through a prolonged campaign. but this can only be achieved with better intelligence. i'm not sure i totally agree with him, but he made some very interesting points, and it was pretty incredible to talk to someone who actually has personal experience negotiating with the LRA.
i've submitted my first proposal on a possible research topic for my thesis: i want to look at educational resources for former child soldiers and internally displaced children in northern Uganda. i'm starting to look at possible ngos where i might be able to intern and conduct research. it's all very exciting, and starting to come together, though i am a bit sketchy on the specifics of how i will actually go about this project. ah well, i have a few weeks to plan...
Friday, February 13, 2009
meeting the family
i met with my homestay family on sunday. there are two really cute little kids—jojo, a rambunctious two-year old, and eve, a shy seven-year-old. they live with their mother, a very sweet lady with a calm manner. she is a widow and lives about an hour and a half from the university. i also met with her brother, a cheerful obama fan who instantly engaged me in debate about american politics, and juliet, a twenty-year old who cares for the children while their mother works her long shifts at a roadside clothing stall.
the neighborhood is technically part of kampala, but it is more of a village—the nearby houses keep cows, pigs, and chickens in the yards and grow bananas and vegetables. it is very... rustic, i would say. there is no electricity in the house, and the toilet is a pit in the backyard, and there is a bucket outside for bathing. i have several roommates: rats and cockroaches, that is. it is a good thing i'm not afraid of such critters. but if i see a snake, that will be a different story altogether, and i may take up residence under my desk in the luganda classroom instead. anyway, i feel that this is all going to take some getting used to.
i am gaining a new appreciation for the facilities we have back at home—most of all, electric lights. back home or at school, it is never truly dark. i never quite realized how difficult it is to get, well, anything done when there is no light at all. there is a small oil lantern they keep on the table, and if push comes to shove they light a tiny candle and drip some wax onto the floor to stand it upright. i’m getting better about not crashing into things in the dark, trying to always put things in the same place so i don’t have to blindly grope for them, holding my flashlight awkwardly under my arm when i brush my teeth, tilting my textbook to try to catch more of the flickering lantern light.
the food is interesting. the fruit is good, especially bananas and pineapples. one of my favorite dishes is something rather like tostones—fried plantains. the ugandan diet seems very carb-heavy—most meals contain potatoes, rice, matoke and posho. i think that matoke and posho have an acquired taste—i’m not particularly fond of them, though they are quite popular here. matoke is a starchy steamed mush made of a local banana-plantainish fruit. it has a slightly sour flavour. posho is a tasteless mush made of cornmeal and water. on the other hand, i love the indian food here—chapatis and samosas are quite delicious. and the sweet milk tea they serve here is fantastic--i drink at least four cups a day.
classes at makarere university are intense. i find my classes in the luganda language very challenging—they move quickly, and the words still all seem to be such a jumble of foreign sounds. the very beginning of learning a language is always the hardest, i remind myself, but i'm still frustrated at how lost i feel during the class. how i wish i were good at picking up languages! it is an unfortunate combination, being in love with languages but at the same time, quite slow at learning them. the development studies lectures, on the other hand, are fun and interesting, and i can’t wait to get started with meeting with NGOs and researching. though i’m still not entirely sure what i will right my thesis on.
the neighborhood is technically part of kampala, but it is more of a village—the nearby houses keep cows, pigs, and chickens in the yards and grow bananas and vegetables. it is very... rustic, i would say. there is no electricity in the house, and the toilet is a pit in the backyard, and there is a bucket outside for bathing. i have several roommates: rats and cockroaches, that is. it is a good thing i'm not afraid of such critters. but if i see a snake, that will be a different story altogether, and i may take up residence under my desk in the luganda classroom instead. anyway, i feel that this is all going to take some getting used to.
i am gaining a new appreciation for the facilities we have back at home—most of all, electric lights. back home or at school, it is never truly dark. i never quite realized how difficult it is to get, well, anything done when there is no light at all. there is a small oil lantern they keep on the table, and if push comes to shove they light a tiny candle and drip some wax onto the floor to stand it upright. i’m getting better about not crashing into things in the dark, trying to always put things in the same place so i don’t have to blindly grope for them, holding my flashlight awkwardly under my arm when i brush my teeth, tilting my textbook to try to catch more of the flickering lantern light.
the food is interesting. the fruit is good, especially bananas and pineapples. one of my favorite dishes is something rather like tostones—fried plantains. the ugandan diet seems very carb-heavy—most meals contain potatoes, rice, matoke and posho. i think that matoke and posho have an acquired taste—i’m not particularly fond of them, though they are quite popular here. matoke is a starchy steamed mush made of a local banana-plantainish fruit. it has a slightly sour flavour. posho is a tasteless mush made of cornmeal and water. on the other hand, i love the indian food here—chapatis and samosas are quite delicious. and the sweet milk tea they serve here is fantastic--i drink at least four cups a day.
classes at makarere university are intense. i find my classes in the luganda language very challenging—they move quickly, and the words still all seem to be such a jumble of foreign sounds. the very beginning of learning a language is always the hardest, i remind myself, but i'm still frustrated at how lost i feel during the class. how i wish i were good at picking up languages! it is an unfortunate combination, being in love with languages but at the same time, quite slow at learning them. the development studies lectures, on the other hand, are fun and interesting, and i can’t wait to get started with meeting with NGOs and researching. though i’m still not entirely sure what i will right my thesis on.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
i'm here!
finally! i'm so excited, and also pretty overwhelmed. kampala is such a crowded, busy place--the streets are crammed with honking buses, cars, bicycles, boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis), and pedestrians picking their way precariously through the jumble. it is hot and dusty and colorful. little shops and street vendors line every road, selling all manner of things: brightly printed traditional outfits, used books, flip flops, hot chapatis, watches, toys, little bags of groundnuts... squeezed in between are internet cafes, little stalls offering hair braiding, appliance repair shops, and the ubiquitous yellow stands selling calling cards and cell phones.
the roads are mainly dirt, and incredibly bumpy. there is a joke here that when you see someone swerving and weaving crazily back and forth along the road, it is a sure sign that they are sober--only the drunk ones drive straight! (as they can't think straight enough to avoid all the crevices and potholes.)
we passed by a market on the way into town--baskets and mats filled with fresh produce: avocados, onions, sweet potatoes, squash, pumpkins, plantains, tomatoes... a truck was parked nearby piled some eight feet high with pineapples, and another stood equally stuffed with giant bunches of bananas. i even saw a vendor on a bicycle driving by with hundreds of eggs in little cartons precariously strapped to the back of his seat.
for my study abroad program, we've mostly been doing orientation-type stuff--classes don't start until monday. i wish katie, courtney and i hadn't missed the first two days of the program due to that bloody blizzard in london! we've a lot to catch up on--particularly on basic phrases in the local language, luganda, and just generally getting our bearings in the country. but everyone has been super friendly and helpful in catching us up. it seems like a good group--full of a variety of interesting people. i'm excited to get started.
the two most vivid elements of kampala, for me, are the boda-bodas and the marabou storks:
the marabou storks are terrifying creatures. muna, one of the program's administrators, calls them the "friends of kampala," but they seem very unfriendly indeed. they stand about three feet tall and have coats of mangy grey feathers. their sole vocation in life is to eat trash, so they flock around trashcans and heaps of rubbish along the street like giant filthy flies. they creep about on long, spindly black legs and will suddenly swoop up on their enormous dark wings, reminding me of vultures or giant bats. they lurk ominously in flocks on trees, weighing down the branches. apparently, when they die they do not even start to decompose for a year, they are so full of filth and trash. not even the bugs will dare to touch them.
the boda-bodas are motorcyclists who taxi people through the streets, weaving recklessly through traffic, squeezing in between buses and cars, even careening through gutters and up onto the sidewalk to get to their destination. one of the first things our program directors said was "you are strictly forbidden from riding a boda-boda" as they are incredibly dangerous. in fact, the two warnings on the state department website for uganda are 1) the civil war in the north, and 2) riding boda-bodas. apparently there is an entire ward in the kampala hospital for victims of boda-boda accidents. whenever i cross the streets (which are all completely devoid of crosswalks or, it seems, much respect for rules of the road) i jump whenever i see one. i hope i will soon figure out how to manage basic things like crossing the street!
the roads are mainly dirt, and incredibly bumpy. there is a joke here that when you see someone swerving and weaving crazily back and forth along the road, it is a sure sign that they are sober--only the drunk ones drive straight! (as they can't think straight enough to avoid all the crevices and potholes.)
we passed by a market on the way into town--baskets and mats filled with fresh produce: avocados, onions, sweet potatoes, squash, pumpkins, plantains, tomatoes... a truck was parked nearby piled some eight feet high with pineapples, and another stood equally stuffed with giant bunches of bananas. i even saw a vendor on a bicycle driving by with hundreds of eggs in little cartons precariously strapped to the back of his seat.
for my study abroad program, we've mostly been doing orientation-type stuff--classes don't start until monday. i wish katie, courtney and i hadn't missed the first two days of the program due to that bloody blizzard in london! we've a lot to catch up on--particularly on basic phrases in the local language, luganda, and just generally getting our bearings in the country. but everyone has been super friendly and helpful in catching us up. it seems like a good group--full of a variety of interesting people. i'm excited to get started.
the two most vivid elements of kampala, for me, are the boda-bodas and the marabou storks:
the marabou storks are terrifying creatures. muna, one of the program's administrators, calls them the "friends of kampala," but they seem very unfriendly indeed. they stand about three feet tall and have coats of mangy grey feathers. their sole vocation in life is to eat trash, so they flock around trashcans and heaps of rubbish along the street like giant filthy flies. they creep about on long, spindly black legs and will suddenly swoop up on their enormous dark wings, reminding me of vultures or giant bats. they lurk ominously in flocks on trees, weighing down the branches. apparently, when they die they do not even start to decompose for a year, they are so full of filth and trash. not even the bugs will dare to touch them.
the boda-bodas are motorcyclists who taxi people through the streets, weaving recklessly through traffic, squeezing in between buses and cars, even careening through gutters and up onto the sidewalk to get to their destination. one of the first things our program directors said was "you are strictly forbidden from riding a boda-boda" as they are incredibly dangerous. in fact, the two warnings on the state department website for uganda are 1) the civil war in the north, and 2) riding boda-bodas. apparently there is an entire ward in the kampala hospital for victims of boda-boda accidents. whenever i cross the streets (which are all completely devoid of crosswalks or, it seems, much respect for rules of the road) i jump whenever i see one. i hope i will soon figure out how to manage basic things like crossing the street!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
operation lighting thunder: next steps
operation lightning thunder (the name for the joint military offensive launched in december) has largely been viewed as a failure. after over a month of military activity, uganda is no closer to apprehending LRA leaders, rebel retaliatory attacks on civilians in DRC have skyrocketed, hundreds more children have been abducted, and the civilian death toll is nearly 1000. there is disagreement among NGOs and civil society groups as to what the next course of action should be. some push for a complete withdrawl of coalition troops from DRC. others feel that withdrawl at this point would only pave the way for further violence, as the ugandan-rwandan-sudanese troops would be unable to protect civilians and counter LRA attacks. still others believe the operation should continue as planned. in the debates around this situation, i even seeing some striking similarities to the debates around the iraq war.
i'm a bit uncertain as to where i fall on this spectrum of opinions. while i don't think that the operation should have been launched in the first place and agree that its implementation has been disastrous, with its disregard for providing security to civilians, i think a complete troop withdrawl right now might do more harm than good. i'm leaning more towards agreeing that it's best to continue the operation, but change the strategy to be much more discriminate in its activities--to focus solely on apprehending the LRA leaders and to put a much greater focus on protecting civilians and limiting attacks where civilians would be caught in the crossfire. i know that's much easier said than done, but hopefully if that path is taken, something could be salvaged from this mess and it might even bring uganda closer to peace.
i'm a bit uncertain as to where i fall on this spectrum of opinions. while i don't think that the operation should have been launched in the first place and agree that its implementation has been disastrous, with its disregard for providing security to civilians, i think a complete troop withdrawl right now might do more harm than good. i'm leaning more towards agreeing that it's best to continue the operation, but change the strategy to be much more discriminate in its activities--to focus solely on apprehending the LRA leaders and to put a much greater focus on protecting civilians and limiting attacks where civilians would be caught in the crossfire. i know that's much easier said than done, but hopefully if that path is taken, something could be salvaged from this mess and it might even bring uganda closer to peace.
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