Sorry Djibouti

My friend Will and I just finished a three-day map project where we painted a giant map on the wall of his site, St. Mary's Seminary in Fort Portal. There were some minor mishaps, notably Uganda was somehow absorbed by Sudan (we later worked that out), Namibia and Botswana were the same country until a UN delegate painted a border, Djibouti was left out completely, the Central African Republic was painted light blue so it looks like a giant inland sea, and a few former Soviet republics became Soviet republics once more.

Other than that it was a great three days that generated a lot of interest in geography. One of the main comments was that Uganda was so small compared to the rest of the world.

AIDS Outreach

Twice a month at a hospital in Ibanda, The AIDS Support Organization (TASO), a government agency, does health check-ups, counseling, and anti-retro viral support for HIV positive people in the area. When people know their HIV status they can get the services they need to treat the virus and can lead normal, healthy and productive lives. A lot of people don't come until they show signs of sickness, and by that time it's a much more difficult thing to manage.

My friend Jill and I went to the TASO outreach last week. There were well over 500 people there, waiting hours to see doctors, and they usually bring kids (especially HIV positive kids for their check-ups, too). Jill usually goes in the mornings for a few hours and brings paper and crayons to play with the kids.

Now, my local language isn't the greatest, and these kids didn't speak English, so communicating was on a humorously low level, limited to pictograms, funny faces, and noises. One girl who was about five took particular interest in me, staying next to me the entire time, helping me draw, and imitating my English (I finally got her say the color indigo).

The next day I was leaving Ibanda to head to Fort Portal for the weekend (a taxi ride of about 3 hours), waiting at the stage for a car to come, my thoughts devolving into creme brule and popcorn. I was jarred awake when this kid came up to me and gave me a hug, a giant smile on her face. I remembered it was the little girl from the previous day.

Unfortunately she didn't remember indigo, but she did make me smile.

Dia del Pollo en Sangria

The national elections in Uganda are on Friday. The president, who took power after a civil war in 1986, has stood twice previously in elections and even changed the constitution so he could run for another term. Positions in every level of government, from MP to governors to village chairmen, are up for election so it's a pretty big event here. Except for some heated rhetoric and isolated violence, it has largely been peaceful.

During the two weeks surrounding the election Peace Corps has us on lockdown, i.e. house arrest. Luckily I got permission to stay with my friend Jill in Ibanda, about 50km south of my site. Jill has electricity, a water tap about 20 feet from the front door, her organization has internet I can use for free, and she's pretty much awesome to top it all off. Like many things that happen here, utter boredom was the cause for organizing and celebrating "Dia del Pollo en Sangria." Our friend Charlene also joined for the festivities:

With a packet of McCormick's Garlic Lime Chicken Fajita mix (thank you Mom!) we decided to make fajitas. What better way to celebrate a Mexican day in Africa? Unfortunately not all of the ingredients were included in the package, so we had to go shopping. (And the suggested prep time of 5 minutes was way off.)













We headed to the market in Ibanda town to get the veggies for the fajitas. Considering we live in a tropical climate, tropical sangria was definitely called for - mangoes, pineapple, oranges, and apples.

Some prices of common foods:
5 tomatoes - 20 cents
A bunch of onions - 45 cents
1 large pineapple - 45 cents
3 Bell peppers - 45 cents


The local liquor store carries just about everything that's available in Uganda. One 5-liter box of dry red wine (South Africa) put us back 65,000 Shillings - $30.

Also notice the sachets in the bottom left. It's a shot of booze for about 5-10 cents and is the preferred alcohol among the village drunks and motorcycle drivers.




Charlene and I are enjoying our tropical sangria....












Also not included in the package of chicken fajita mix was the chicken. I offered to run out to the Safeway to get a pack of Foster Farms but quickly remembered that we were in Uganda. Alas!

Luckily Jill's organization was raising chickens so there was a fresh supply of cage-free, free-range, organic and all natural chicken right outside. Now only to pick the best one.











It also meant we had to slaughter and clean it. After some intense debate and introspection, Jill stepped up to the plate. As of yet I still haven't killed anything, I've only been an accomplice for a turkey and now a chicken. (I'm just happy we didn't decide to go with beef fajitas...)







Yes, I wore gloves. Jill cleaned and gutted the chicken, I carved it up. I think there's something to say for caged chicken that are fed hormones and growth enhancers - our chicken was about a year old and had hardly any meat on it.








The chicken slaughtered and cleaned, the veggies cut and prepped, the sangria bucket slowly being drained, we fried it all up and enjoyed a delicious taste of home. As for the five-minutes of prep time suggested by the packaging, it took us the better part of a great day.

Happy Dia del Pollo!

Shameless Plug

Many months ago I was sitting in my little village hovel, bored as usual. I had just made fried rice and used some Cajun seasonings my brother sent me for my birthday. With nothing to do I decided to write a letter to the Cajun seasoning company, letting them know how much I enjoy their product, especially way out in the bush where the usual seasonings are either salt or no salt.

Yesterday in my mailbox was a package from the Cajun seasonings company, with a hand-written note, and a few samples of their wonderful product.

For their time, energy, and good wishes, I'd like to give a shout out to Slap Ya Mama. Thank you for your response and thinking of us flavor-deprived volunteers overseas.

And for anyone who hasn't tried their products they are available here: http://www.slapyamama.com/

The Best Christmas Present Ever

When I was a child I would sometimes dread gifts from relatives, especially the ones that didn't know you very well. Was it going to be new socks, or an ugly knit sweater I would never wear?

This Christmas was different. I actually wanted new socks, and thanks to Tyler and Hannah today, safely back in Uganda, I am wearing a new T-Shirt, new underwear, and new socks. I feel like a million bucks and couldn't have asked for anything better!

The Other World

When my dad contacted me at the end of November and asked if I wanted to come home for Christmas as a surprise to my family, I told him that I needed a few days to think about it. Having the opportunity to go home was an unsuspected surprise, but I really had to think whether I was mentally ready to do it. In the end I reasoned it was too good of an opportunity to pass up: not only would I be able to spend Christmas with my family and see my 16-month-old nephew for the first time, but I would also be able to attend my good friends' wedding.

Keeping my homecomming a secret was difficult. I couldn't tell any friends or make any plans to see anyone in case the secret somehow slipped. But luckily it worked; my dad was also able to get my brother to take a week off work in LA so that we could spend some good family time together.

Surprising my mom was perhaps the best part. My dad and I arranged to have her friend take her out for coffee. Once there I walked over to her table and casually asked if I could sit down. She had a blank stare on her face for at least 10 seconds and I could see her brain going through the filing cabinet, processing who I was and if I was her son, what I was doing there. Finally it clicked and she started to cry, and didn't stop for a good three days.

The Family spent a traditional Christmas at home, then went to Cannon Beach on the Oregon coast for a few days. New Years was spent at our cabin on Mt. Hood with 6" of snow - so cold for a guy who hasn't lived in weather below 68 degress for the last 16 months!

After the family time I was off for the Northlands - first to visit some friends in Seattle (lunch with Anna and Leslie - Celine you were missed!, then hanging with Karli, Erica, and Brian) - then northwards to Bellingham for three days of wedding preperations and hanging out my awesome friends.

Being back in America was a lot different than I was expecting. I fell into my old routine easier than expected, but I was stressed out at the pace of life and more socially retarded than I usually am, especially in groups larger than two. I'm now more excited to come home after Peace Corps, but the experience has given me a greater understanding and appreciation of what I'm doing now in Africa. The next ten months are going to be more productive and focused, and I'm sure will be finished before I know it.

Thank you everybody for the great time back home. I missed you more than I thought. Unfortunately I didn't have time to see or talk with everyone, so I do apologize but I'm back for good in October and we will definately catch up then.

This is My Normal

I’ve lived in Uganda since August 2009 – just over 16 months now. The more time I am away from the United States (and indeed, the more time I’m here), the more normal living here seems and the more at home I feel. The idiosyncrasies of daily life no longer throw me or surprise me, and for the most part I have adapted to this African way of life. When things go wrong, which they commonly do, there is a saying: This is Africa. I’m trying to spread a new one: This is my Normal.

• Being stared at, sticking out like a sore thumb, and constantly being hassled by kids: this is my normal.
• Haggling to purchase just about anything, including posted beer prices: this is my normal.
• Constantly living in fear of being hit by one of the limitless motorcycles: this is my normal.
• Seeing sick people and malnourished kids, and parents generally not caring about their children’s safety (i.e. two-year-olds with razor blades): this is my normal.
• Dodging ditches and random holes in sidewalks at night because there are no streetlights: this is my normal.
• Having to ask “What food do you have,” even when handed a menu: this is my normal.
• Issuing commands to get anything (“You bring me coca-cola.”): this is my normal.
• Speaking the strange Ugandan dialect of English (“I am footing,” or “It is somehow near.”): welcome to my normal.
• Getting sick when you eat Western food and actually craving the local diet: this is my normal.
• Seeing goats run along the main highway as I write this and that not seeming unusual: this is my normal.
• Having only eight people in a Toyota Corolla and feeling like there’s room to spare: this is my normal.

Christmas is in a few days, and as I hear news reports of record-snows in Europe, rain and cold in America, I can’t help but enjoy the 85-degree days here (it’s the beginning of dry season, so no rain either), and am happy to be where I am. That said, the holidays are always a difficult time to be away from friends and family, and this year will be my second in a row and no less difficult. I’ll be spending it with friends here in Uganda, most likely in the mountains on the Rwanda/Congo border, admittingly looking forward to next year when I’ll be reunited with my family and that dreary Pacific Northwest wet season. After all, listening to Bing Crosby sing White Christmas just isn’t the same in Africa.

Maybe another to add to the list:

• Sunburns on Christmas Eve: this is my normal.

Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year!

Market Day

The social highlight in my area is the monthly market day in a village called Rukunyu, about 4km south of where I live. The event brings hoards of people from distances as far as 15km (when they walk), and even farther afield when they take a motorcycle or taxi.

You start to see people walking by as early as eight or nine in the morning, babies strapped to women's backs, men with walking sticks. In the afternoon they come back with their loot: sacks of potatoes on their heads or pulling a reluctant goat.

The market doesn't get going until one or two in the afternoon, when the soccer field is filled with mix of vendors and villagers. The village of Rukunyu itself is bustling, the small restaurants full of patrons and drunks spilling out into the street from the overcrowded bars.

One aisle in the market area is the vegetable bounty from the surrounding area, typically beans, onions, bananas, tomatoes, and cassava, all layed out in neat stacks and piles on blankets or brightly coloured fabric. I ran into the fee-collector for the market - to set up shop costs 50cents. One stack of tomatoes (about 5 or 6) costs a quarter.

A few cows and goats are tied up on the side of the field, watching the action from the periphery.

Beyond the food lays the expanse of clothes and fabric vendors, some vendors leaving their products in heaps on a tarp, others setting up wooden poles and hanging them. The nice stalls even have a tarp roof for shade.

All of the clothes are used and come from America, Europe, and Japan. The labels vary from the typical (Stafford and Van Heusen shirts are usually over-sized and are ill to fit, but sometimes you can get treasures from Ben Sherman, Tommy Bahama, and Lactose). Since a lot of the clothes have been discarded several times before coming to Africa, styles and time-periods vary. Button dress shirts go for about $2. Some even have price tags from their previous thrift store (Value Village - $4.99; Goodwill). What doesn't sell at these second-hand stores comes here: Third-Hand for the Third-World!

T-Shirts are fun, and cheaper - they typically go for 75cents, but there's room to negotiate. The most popular shirts are from charity events (I've seen Portland Race for the Cure), political campaigns (Vote Smith!), and community sports teams. The shirt I just bought is priceless: Fischer Family Reunion 1990, surrounded by the outline of Alabama.

Fabric dealers have walls of prints from Kenya, Tanzania, and Congo. The hardware guys are out, too, selling locks, bolts, rat traps, and local metalwares.

Anyone who's anyone comes to sell, buy, socialize, and just pass the time. It's the only event in the area and you're bound to see something, or someone, interesting.

A Fuel Crisis in Perspective

Uganda has been in a "fuel crisis" for the last two or three weeks. The country uses 3 millions litres of petroleum per day, all of it imported from Kenya by truck on one two-lane road from Nairobi. The port in Mombassa, through which all of the oil for Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, and eastern Congo flows, had been shut down for repairs, and now the Kenyan government revoked the importing license for Kenya's main oil importer (the company has since paid its taxes and its license is being reinstated). The price of gas has increased 21% from about 2800 UGX to 3400 UGX per litre in the past two weeks.

Transportation prices have increased and, most importantly for a Peace Corps Volunteer, the local price of beer has also increased.

This demonstrates the volatility in prices here, and in most of the developing world. If one thing happens to the transportation network, the entire country is directly effected. One thing in the US that I didn't quite appreciate before was a constant supply of products and stable prices. I knew that a gallon of milk would cost me $3 at Safeway today, tomorrow, and next month. In Uganda, what's available now may not be available later tonight.

This concept directly plays into personal finances among local Ugandans and why there isn't a strong culture of savings here, and elsewhere in Africa, and impulse buying is so prevalent. For example, when I want to buy a beer, one of four situations can occur:

1. The store might be out of beer,
2. The beer might not be cold (because of power outtages, etc.),
3. The beer might cost more (because of transport increases and other reasons),
4. The beer will be cold, cost the same, and be available.

It's a 25% chance that tomorrow I'll pay the same price for the same product. So, as a good consumer who knows his products and has particular tastes, I'd bet in favour of my odds and get another cold one right now.

Public Transportation

In previous entries I have attempted to convey the chaos, the struggles, and at times the seemingly insurmountable task of public transportation. Last week I rode the bus with my friend Hayley and we were talking about the arduous process involved in public transportation which inspired me dedicate an entire entry on the subject.

America: Land of the Free, Home of the concept of Personal Space and modern conveniences like toilets. At home the prospect of a 5-hour bus journey would usually be met with a groan at the inconvenience. You go to the bus station, sit on the bus, get off. In Uganda a 5-hour bus journey begins the day before.

A general lack of toilets anywhere mandates a limited liquid consumption on the day of travel. In 85-degree heat on a stuffy and overcrowded bus, you must be mindful of dehydration, which is why you begin to pre-hydrate the day before the journey. Two litres per day is normal, so the day before a trip it is best to drink at least 3 1/2 - and be sure to pee in the morning!

When you're with your friends drinking is always a popular activity, but be careful not to drink too much the night before - two beers should do it. Being hung-over on a bus trip is one of the most miserable experiences! And be mindful of when you go to sleep the night before, a trip on public transport requires you to be fully rested because it constantly tests your wits, sanity, and motivation.

What about food? You want to be well nourished, but because the buses usually leave at early hours it isn't always possible to eat a balanced meal. Again, planning ahead helps. A package of crackers or peanuts is always good, and half-way through you can usually count on some roasted bananas or cassava: not quite a breakfast of champions, but then again, who's keeping score? (I wouldn't advise going for the roasted goat, be mindful of those pesky parasites!)

In my personal opinion, the best thing the West ever invented was the concept of the single-file line. Sometimes in Africa is surprises you when you see it, but instead of an every-day occurrence it's more like seeing a polka-doted unicorn: get your camera ready! With all the pushing and standing your ground, you need to bring your A-Game.

Finally, what do you wear? By the end of the first hour you're guaranteed to be sweating so much your back sticks to the seat. In this situation it is best to wear travel clothes, usually the ones you came to town in - they're smelly and dirty, but when you have to finally throw them away you aren't at a loss.

If all goes well, and usually it does, you reach your destination dusty, dehydrated, and short of spirits. An immediate stop at the nearest bar helps rekindle at least one of those requirements, and you can almost certainly relieve any pressure that's been building up (although, as Mamma Kuhl complained, you may be thanking the Gods for the toilet, but you should have also prayed for a toilet seat!). And then, freshly watered, newly hydrated, you throw your stuff and yourself into a bush taxi and prepare for the two-hour onward journey, for you aren't there yet!