Apartheid

I have always enjoyed political history and learning about different political situations around the world and am continually amazed at the extent people will go to reach their selfish ends. It's usually out of fear or ignorance of other people, other cultures, other political beliefs, and more often than not to retain a non-legitimate hold on power.

The history of South Africa is marred by harsh inequality, a history that I knew little about. What I had learned about apartheid was by watching The Power of One in middle school, and that was that. My friend Derek, whose family is from South Africa, talked about the situation there off an on throughout college, but I never grasped the reality or the extent of what happened and what humans are capable of doing to eachother.

Last week I had the opportunity to visit the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg, an amazing museum not to be missed for anyone traveling in the area. It told the story pretty much from the start: an influx of migrant workers in the 1880s, Afrikaners settling the area, and a native population who were viewed as a nuisance. Fast forward through independence in 1910 and the development of segregation, to full-blown racial apartheid by 1960 and a government run by a party whose official line was white supremacy.

The thing that keeps getting me, and that I enjoy learning about, is the extent the state went to keep power. Creating an apartheid state meant all of the official bureaucracy that went along with it, including an entire appeals court to appeal the racial designation you received (interestingly, no "white" person petitioned their designation be changed to "black"). In the 1970s citizens and students began protesting and the state cracked down, and by the time the 1980s came South Africa spent three entire years under martial law, literally keeping power by military force. The government even went to the extent to invade/influence politics in neighbouring Mozambique, Namibia (controlled by SA through a UN mandate), Zambia, and Angola, bombing and assassinating "state enemies."

We learn about similar events throughout history, from Stalinist Russia, Nazi Germany, and East Germany, to Chile and Argentina, Rwanda, and beyond. The United States is still getting over its history of segregation and Brown v. Board of Education was only 50 years ago. Studying history is to learn about the past so that we don't make the same mistakes in the future. It's funny though how history tends to repeat itself...

The Kinjura Club

Before Uganda gained independence in 1962, the British had established large tea estates in Western Uganda to satisfy their tastes for the brewed leaves. Thousands of acres of farmland and forest were cultivated to grow tea, supported by cheap local labour, and supervised by colonial ex-patriots.

On Sunday I had the opportunity to visit an old colonial tea estate - the largest in Uganda at about 9000 acres and currently managed by TAMTECO (Toro and Mityana Tea Company Limited) - and the colonial clubhouse established by the ex-pats before Uganda gained independence.

The Kijura Club is about 30 kilometers north of Fort Portal near the village of Kijura, reached by an often-muddy dirt road that weaves its way along the Rwenzori foothills, through banana plantations and small villages. Although in disrepair and no longer a functioning exclusive club (though to join it will cost a whopping 60,000 USh - $30 per year), it is still a meeting place of the ex-pat community to drink, eat, and watch the great African pastime -- football.

The England-Germany game on Sunday was the perfect occasion for such a gathering, and the doors were opened by Norrie, a pleasant Scotsman with an amusing accent and a squinty face, who organized a pork BBQ with all the fixin's.

The clubhouse had seen better days, but the dilapidation certainly contributed to its charm. Outside were two tennis courts, the nets long missing and a ball rack rusted over, the concrete courts supporting more weeds and wildflowers than gameplay these days. An empty swimming pool and a long overgrown airstrip also served the patrons a generation ago.

Inside the parts of the ceiling had fallen away exposing the simple corrugated metal roof, but the lack of formal aesthetics all but made up for the nostalgia that seemed to plaster the walls and remaining decor. The bar had been redone since the 1950s (see original picture), adding 60s-esque stonework. But the original wicker flower-chairs survived the years, as sturdy as the day they were built. A cork dartboard finished off the bar.

In an adjoining room was table tennis, perhaps a recent addition, sharing the room with the old "library," containing volumes from London, their bindings deteriorated, their pages with the slight odour of mildew.

Finally, in the rear room, stood a giant Snooker table. A full-sized Snooker table measures 12x6 feet, and is a type of billiards. The story of this particular Snooker table is a story within itself, and without any actual information one is left to wonder about its past: First being manufactured in London probably sometime in the 1950s, then transported on ship through the Suez Canal on its way to Mombasa. From there it was most likely put on a freight train and shipped via the Uganda Railway to Kampala (made famous by the Man Eating Lions of Tsavo in Kenya).

Somehow the slate slabs, woodwork and felt then made the 300-kilometer trip to its current location. The balls are, in good colonial tradition, ivory. To complete the story, during Idi Amin's reign in the 1970s, the table had to be hidden from looting by Amin's troops.

With its decades of colonial and local history, the Kijura Club has recently found money to begin repairing the facility so that it can be enjoyed for many decades to come by the new colonialists, ex-pats, volunteers, and yes, even locals. As Norrie said, "Originally it was black people behind the counter serving the whites. Now I'm the one behind the counter serving the blacks!"

Check-Points

Businesses in Uganda haven't quite figured out competitiveness yet (most stores sell the same products at the same price and are located right next to each other), but it's refreshing to know that the spirit of entrepreneurship does indeed exist. Take for example the police check-points along my road:

The traffic police are quite corrupt, and stop taxis that are overfilled with passengers (my personal record was 9 adults and 4 children in a Toyota Corolla). According to law, only two people are allowed to be in the front seat, but typically taxis don't leave unless there are at least three - if not four - passengers up front with the driver. At the check-points (there is one between my site and Fort Portal, about 90 minutes away), instead of ticketing the driver, or revoking his license, the driver pays the "fee" of 2,000 Shillings ($1), and we continue on our way.

Now, an extra passenger gets the driver about 6,000 Shillings ($3), so there is an incentive to over-load the car because the driver still makes money in the deal.

Today was an interesting turn from normalcy in the traffic check-point story. As usual, our driver was warned of the up-coming traffic stop by passing cars. At a bend in the road about 300 meters before the check-point, the driver stops and two passengers in the front got out, leaving the driver and myself (four more remained in the back seat). The two men hopped on a waiting motorcycle, and took off down the road. We continued, got pulled over, talked to the police, didn't have to pay a fine, then continued about 300 meters to another bend in the road. Our two passengers were there waiting, got back in the car, and all eight of us took off again.

The price for the motorcycle was probably 500 Shillings, and the driver didn't have to pay the 2,000 Shilling fine. Everybody wins today, and corruption was stopped cold. Thank you, Uganda's finest!

Football

It had been a rather quiet day, not too much going on and admittedly, I was bored. In the late afternoon two of the girls from my vocational school passed by my house (both of them called Akiiki - so goes it when there are twelve possible nicknames in a culture) and told me that all of the students were up playing football; come join.

Football - what a great game. It's so simple, the rules are easy and you can play just about anywhere. In American golf is the game of the elite and basketball the game of the lower classes. In the rest of the world, football is the game everyone plays, and indeed World Cup begins on Friday (the most watched sporting event in the world). Every village has a pitch, some with timbers demarcating the goals, others with rocks or jerri-cans. They're a type of village park and town commons (grazing the cattle here keeps the grass low, but makes navigating through the dung piles quite difficult).

The balls can be as cheap or expensive as your resources allow - black and white imports from Kenya or China, to plastic sacks bound together with banana fibre.

And here you don't "play football," instead you "kuzina omupira" - dance football.




A student from our vocational school out playing on our village pitch. The other students play behind.










Students from our vocational school, taking a break from the game.

There is No Frozen Marie Calendars in Africa

There are a variety of things I never imagined myself saying twelve months ago, or absolutely abnormal situations where now I hardly thing anything is wrong. In a month my mom will be coming out to visit for three weeks, and I'm really excited to get a new person's perspective again on living in East Africa. Here are some examples:

- Seeing four - or the occasional five - people on a motorcycle;
- Needing 4WD in the downtown of a capital city, due to the car-swallowing pot holes;
- Charging your cell phone from a jerry-rigged car battery
- Five people per row on a bus - that's all?
- Ten grown people (I've seen 12) in a Toyota Corolla? I think we can fit another;
- Maneuvering through a herd of cows on the way to work

Last week was the second installment of my baking class with a local woman's group. The first week we made a basic yellow cake, and this last week we mixed it up a bit and added some bananas. I have to admit, it was pretty tasty, and the women seem to be having a blast, too. Since ovens are pretty rare, we have been baking on a charcoal stove dutch-oven style. It's taken some perfecting, but I think we're getting it down. Here are some pictures of the escapades:


Mixing the batter... it's actually quite easy because all I do watch them do the work, and comment occasionally on what to add or what to do next.












Trying the finished product - quite tasty!


















And the woman rejoice!











For a quick overview of my "project," the woman's group wanted to learn how to make cakes so they can make them at home for celebrations, weddings, etc. Ugandan cakes are terrible, dry and stale, so making Western cakes is definitely a change from their normal tastes. There are 18 woman and two men. Included in my curriculum is pricing and costing each recipe we make, in an attempt to teach them how to break down a unit-cost of a product to determine how much it costs to produce, then to figure out how much they would have to sell it for.

Beyond this economic stuff, I think they are really enjoying just getting together, mixing stuff up, and eating cake at the end of the day! On Thursday we're trying out chocolate cake :)

Buzzwords, Now 50% Off

My purpose in Uganda is to build the capacities of local communities by providing a holistic approach to economic empowerment using community linkages at the grassroots level.

That sounds pretty, but what am I doing exactly? Well, right now I'm planting a garden.

Buzzwords are a part of every industry, and the development industry is no exception. Appearing in mission statements, organizational goals and objectives, annual reports and funding proposals, the buzzword appears to give meaning or significant weight to an undefined concept. "Capacity building" sounds really neat, and reading over it I almost smile at the simplicity of the concept. Yes, of course, more capacity building is what the rural poor need to rise above their poverty! But ask somebody what exactly that entails, and they usually rephrase the buzzword with more ambiguity ("build their capacity to empower themselves and enable them to own their development"). For me personally, this is perhaps the most frustrating part of talking with people about what exactly is going on.

Alas, buzzwords will never go away, so perhaps we should embrace them and march forward in our quest for poverty reduction and livelihood improvement through community empowerment.

Angling

The old proverb goes, "Give a man a fish and he eats for a meal. Teach a man how to fish and he eats for a lifetime." (Was it Aesop who wrote it?)

I come across that saying (or was it Confucius?) frequently, and admittedly it is somewhat annoying and oversimplifies a complicated situation:

First, it assumes that the man wants to learn. In populations around the world, and especially in situations of poverty, there is always an element of apathy. In America you can find people who take advantage of welfare and do nothing to improve their lives. In Uganda, there are people drunk at 9am every morning. They will not take the initiative to change their lives no matter how much is done to try. That said, there usually is also a group of people in an underprivileged class with the ability and will to change. Finding these people are key. But teaching them to fish is only step one. You must also provide them with a loan to buy a fishing pole or net. You need to teach them how to be fiscally responsible with their new-found wealth. Above all, you have to make sure fishing is the most economically-viable way for them to produce. Maybe growing a staple like potatoes or millet takes too much time, and even if you teach them and support them in fishing, they will go back to farming because it provides more food with less time/effort.

Second, it does not take into account any moral responsibility. If you can teach a person to fish, and he does, there will also be one person who is apathetic and uninterested in working toward his progress. Do we then have a moral responsibility or obligation to continue giving them fish so they don't starve? What does that do to any jealousies or relationships within the small village social circle?

Third, it assumes a person has a direction and positive outlook on their life, which I think is typically a Western view of life. In the developing world life expectancy is so varied. From my limited experience people do not have the same views of life as we do in the West. Death is just as integral part of daily life as living. In the past three months a local Anglican bishop and a Catholic priest have died in car accidents. In my village there is probably one burial a week. Malaria is the number-one killer, and AIDS prevalence remains high. Not to mention malnutrition significantly reduces a child's development to become a healthy, strong adult better able to fight the diseases they encounter every day. I don't think most people plan for the future because they could die in six months, or five years. Instead they live more on a day-to-day basis. Thus, teaching a man to sell his fish, or value-add to his fish (by frying it and serving it with french fries!), and save for the future, just may not be realistic. He may be better satisfied by immediately spending money from his daily catch on booze, or a new shirt, and not save it for the future. Instant gratification is one thing, but gratification before you die is another. That said, insuring your children are healthy and educated is above-all the most important thing they can do.

So, maybe we can change the proverb (was it an old Jewish saying?):
Give a man a fish and he won't starve. Teach a man how to fish, provide him support in his new enterprise (including capital, business education, and information on savings and investing), and you give him the tools to change his life, if he wants.

Time, Is On My Side

In Spanish it is called "Mañana Mañana." In English it's the adage "Why do today what you can do tomorrow?" In Africa you frequently hear about "African Time," or "I'm not on time, I'm in time."

During pre-service training we were continually warned about the frustration that can occur with African time and some ways to cope, including bringing a book and your patience. I have been working here for over three months now, and I've learned that when someone says there's a meeting at 10am, it won't actually start until noon. I know this; I plan for this. Yet, it still drives me absolutely nuts.

To provide an example, yesterday was just a typical day. I planned to do three things: 1) Attend a youth meeting regarding a farm project, 11am; 2) Find bananas, cut them, and put them in my solar dryer; 3) Bake some bread (needing to get some flour first). Three simple tasks, and there should be time enough to do them all.

Planning ahead was my first mistake.

This is how the day unfolded:
1) My bike being broken, I waked the 4km (2.5mi) to the Parish where I was to meet some youth for a meeting. I got there at 11am, knowing well that it wouldn't start on time. I talked to some of the teachers and the priests, had lunch, and then finally we started the meeting at noon - early! Granted, only 8 people showed up. An hour later the meeting was over. The Parish is in the larger trading centre, so I planned to find bananas (this is a Banana Republic, it shouldn't be difficult), and flour, and head home.

2) 1:00 pm: Upon the insistence of Father Silver, the parish priest, I couldn't walk back because we have been having a heat-wave and it was too hot; he would drive me into the trading centre, then home. But first he had matters to attend to.

2:00pm: Still waiting, I passed the time under a tree talking with some teachers. Remembering I wanted to buy a desk, one of the teachers walked me over to a local carpenter to discuss business (a carpenter in Kamwenge wanted 60,000 UGX, the local guy wanted 25,000 UGX for the same thing). I only had 12,000 UGX to buy bananas and flour, and the carpenter wanted 10,000 UGX in advance to pay for some materials, so I was left with only 2,000.

3:00pm: The parish priest informs me that he needs to take some corn (about 450KG of it) to the mill near where I stay. But he needs to recruit some boys to help load/unload it.

4:00pm: Finally becoming annoyed, hungry, and dehydrated, I found the priest and he was finally ready to go.

4:15pm: In the trading centre there were no bananas. No Bananas!! And I didn't have enough money to buy flour.

4:30pm: Reach the mill. Unload the corn, talk to the millers a bit, wait.

4:50pm: Finally reach home. If I had found bananas, it would have been too late to put them out to dry. If I had bought flour, I could start baking, but alas I didn't. I would just have to wait until tomorrow and try again. I was most annoyed at the fact that I lost a day to dry fruit, and I lost a day to improve my baking (both projects are on rather strict deadlines).

What's the moral of the story? In Uganda planning ahead is vital. This week my trading centre only had onions - I had no fresh food and lived on oatmeal and noodles. To get fresh food one must travel about 4km to a market, which are only held on certain days, and I have no working bike currently. If you plan ahead by one week, you can manage. If you don't, you're stuck living on oatmeal.

Pink Elephants on Parade!

Just posting a random elephant shot
(FYI, another volunteer's photo, but I saw it, I swear!)

Tales from the Other Side

To get to my site, from Fort Portal you basically hang a left on the road to Kamwenge. This road, a wondrous 70-odd-kilometer murrum journey, takes you through stunning tea estates and notably Kibale Forest National Park, which is renown for its chimpanzees and other primates. This footage was taken from the car on an average day passing through the forest. There were about three times as many baboons as you see in the footage, and usually they just hang out and play on the road. The kids even sell lemonaid on particularly hot days.

Continuing south on the road another 70 or so kilometers of wondrous murrum you will eventually reach Ibanda, a regional centre in the Southern Hemisphere.

Last weekend I crossed over to the Other Side. There was an event in honouring a priest's 25 years of priesthood in Ibanda, and the priests I have been working with invited me to come along. I also got to hang out with Jill for the weekend, another volunteer in Ibanda. Now, Ibanda is in the Southern Hemisphere, and it was my second time to the Other Side. If you have never been, I'm sure you have many questions about what it's like down there, so I've put together a Q and A of sorts about the upside-down hemisphere.

Q: Hemispheres? I thought the world was flat!
A: Not since the UN Security Council passed the resolution that eliminated planar living.

Q: How do you keep from falling off the earth?
A: As you know, the farther you travel toward the South Pole, the more upside down you are, and the higher your risk of falling off the planet. At the equator this isn't so much of a problem, but when you go further south people have to wear a special shoe with glue on them. Similarly 3M has developed a resin for the lakes and rivers so they don't drop into space. Interestingly, people wear more hats there.

Q: What's the driving like?
A: Driving is very similar to the Northern Hemisphere, but as long as you're heading south everything slopes downhill so theoretically you can get to Antarctica in neutral.

Q: Is it true that water spins the other way down drains?
A: This is a trick question - there are no holes in which water can drain. People in the Southern Hemisphere use pit latrines and don't have piped water, so it's impossible to know if this myth is actually true.