After two years my final month is quickly running down. I have 22 days left in Uganda and with Peace Corps (my last day being September 22). After such a long application process, the planning and anxiety, and dealing with a roller coaster of emotions over two years, the reality that it will all be over in three weeks hasn't hit yet. The moment I fear most will probably be a week or two after I return home, and I say, "Well this was fun, I'm ready to go back now."
What will I miss most?
I am going to miss moments like right now. It was a beautiful day and a glorious sunset, with the giant yellow ball melting behind the mountains and taking the colors of the day with it. Twilight emerges, as does a sliver of the moon. I wear shorts because it's still eighty degrees, and sit outside to enjoy the sweet air.
I return back to my village after being gone for several days, and am greeted by some store-owner friends by a friendly wave, and a "You are lost!"
And last week was the perfect summary: after building a mud cookstove at my counterpart's house, we were treated to a delicious home-cooked lunch by his family (potatoes, rice, beans, and veggie sauce), before spending the rest of the afternoon on the river by my house with a few beers.
So, what's next?
First I'll be traveling for 3 months (through southern Africa, then to Turkey and Georgia, and finally southeast Asia - if you have any recommendations, or free places for me to stay, let me know!). Get through the holidays and submit applications for grad school (for a masters of Public Policy/Administration), then ease back into life. I'm looking forward to using my free time to network with some organizations in the Portland area, take a class or two at community college, and also get a part-time job. Again, if anyone wants to hire me, I'll happily send you my resume.
The last three weeks I've spent with the newest group of volunteers, who arrived in country on August 4. This is the group replacing me and my group, and I've had the opportunity to be a live-in trainer at their pre-service training. It has been fun to see how high-energy and high-maintenance they are, and to be around their optimism. Their questions are pertinent to them but have become benign to me as I realize just how accustomed to life here I have become. It makes me realize just how far I've come since the day I landed two years ago.
01 September 2011
09 July 2011
Underworld
One of my favourite authors I discovered since I've been here is Don DeLillo. He writes a lot about American pop-culture, society, and suburbia, not necessarily critically but in an ironic and humorous way, and I get a kick out of it. I just finished his novel "Underworld" about the Cold War, and the following passage captures his writing style and unique take on American culture:
Rick was still in the breezeway, running a shammy over the chrome-work. This was something, basically, he could do forever. He could look at himself in a strip of chrome, warp-eyed and hydrocephalic, and reel some of the power of the automobile, the horsepower, the decibel rumble of dual exhausts, the pedal tension of Ford-O-Matic drive. The sneaky thing about his car was that, yes, you drove it sensibly to the dentist and occasionally carpooled with the Andersons and took Eric to the science fair, but beneath the routine family applications was the crouched power of the machine, top down, eating up the landscape.
One of Erica's favorite words in the language was breezeway. It spoke of ease and breeze and being contemporary and having something others did not. Another word she liked was cripser. The Kelvinator had a nice crisper and she like to tell the men that such-and-such was in the cripser. Not the refrigerator, the crisper. The carrots are in the crisper, Rick. There were people out there on the Old Farm Road, where the front porches sag badly and the grass goes unmowed and the Duck River Baptists worship in a squat building that sits in the weeds on the way to the dump, who don't know what a crisper was, who had ice boxes instead of refrigerators, or who had refrigerators that lacked crispers, or who had crispers in their refrigerators but didn't know what they were for or what they were called, who put tubs of butter in the crisper instead of lettuce, or eggs instead of carrots.
He came in from the breezeway.
"The carrots are in the crisper, Rick."
He liked to nibble on a raw carrot after he'd waxed and buffed the car.
He stood looking at the strontium white loaf that sat on a bed of lettuce inside a cake pan in the middle of the table.
"Wuff is it?"
"It's my Jell-O chicken mousse."
"Hey great," he said.
Sometimes she called it her Jell-O chicken mousse and sometimes she called it her chicken mousse Jell-O. This was one of a thousand convenient things about Jell-O. The word went anywhere, front or back or in the middle. It was a push-button word, the way so many things were push-button now, the way the whole world opened behind a button that you pushed.
(From "Underworld," by Don DeLillo, pages 516-517)
Rick was still in the breezeway, running a shammy over the chrome-work. This was something, basically, he could do forever. He could look at himself in a strip of chrome, warp-eyed and hydrocephalic, and reel some of the power of the automobile, the horsepower, the decibel rumble of dual exhausts, the pedal tension of Ford-O-Matic drive. The sneaky thing about his car was that, yes, you drove it sensibly to the dentist and occasionally carpooled with the Andersons and took Eric to the science fair, but beneath the routine family applications was the crouched power of the machine, top down, eating up the landscape.
One of Erica's favorite words in the language was breezeway. It spoke of ease and breeze and being contemporary and having something others did not. Another word she liked was cripser. The Kelvinator had a nice crisper and she like to tell the men that such-and-such was in the cripser. Not the refrigerator, the crisper. The carrots are in the crisper, Rick. There were people out there on the Old Farm Road, where the front porches sag badly and the grass goes unmowed and the Duck River Baptists worship in a squat building that sits in the weeds on the way to the dump, who don't know what a crisper was, who had ice boxes instead of refrigerators, or who had refrigerators that lacked crispers, or who had crispers in their refrigerators but didn't know what they were for or what they were called, who put tubs of butter in the crisper instead of lettuce, or eggs instead of carrots.
He came in from the breezeway.
"The carrots are in the crisper, Rick."
He liked to nibble on a raw carrot after he'd waxed and buffed the car.
He stood looking at the strontium white loaf that sat on a bed of lettuce inside a cake pan in the middle of the table.
"Wuff is it?"
"It's my Jell-O chicken mousse."
"Hey great," he said.
Sometimes she called it her Jell-O chicken mousse and sometimes she called it her chicken mousse Jell-O. This was one of a thousand convenient things about Jell-O. The word went anywhere, front or back or in the middle. It was a push-button word, the way so many things were push-button now, the way the whole world opened behind a button that you pushed.
(From "Underworld," by Don DeLillo, pages 516-517)
05 July 2011
Cattle Ground Homecoming
I am told that the better you get to know me, the more exact you know where I'm from. With strangers it's simply Portland, whereas my good friends eventually learn that I'm really from Battle Ground (not even Oregon).
I'm going home in about three months and starting to think about what life back home will be like. It will take a lot of energy to reintegrate into my former cow town, and after two weeks there I'll be ready to get moving on to someplace more interesting and exciting.
But then I realized it won't be that much different from Kampala. The Safeway, Albertsons, and Fred Meyer rival the shopping experiences at Shoprite, Nakumatt, and Uchumi. Both cities have a bowling alley, and although Battle Ground's Indian population is nonexistent, we have a delicious family-owned Chinese restaurant much like the one Nakasero.
Shopping for clothes and random accouterments will be easier than in Kampala's chaotic Owino Market, as the Goodwill opened shop in Battle Ground about five years ago. There isn't a place to pick up the latest bootleg DVDs (but I hear everyone is online now with smartphones and fibreoptics so that shouldn't be a problem). And the latest Hollywood blockbusters are offered at the Battle Ground Cinemas, although I'll miss the graininess and poor audio quality of the films at the Garden City theater.
Perhaps I'll feel right at home back in good 'ol Battle Ground after all. Though I don't think the police will like me driving on the left-hand side of the road (or, more accurately, weaving in and out of traffic). They'll have to get used to that one.
Happy 4th of July.
I'm going home in about three months and starting to think about what life back home will be like. It will take a lot of energy to reintegrate into my former cow town, and after two weeks there I'll be ready to get moving on to someplace more interesting and exciting.
But then I realized it won't be that much different from Kampala. The Safeway, Albertsons, and Fred Meyer rival the shopping experiences at Shoprite, Nakumatt, and Uchumi. Both cities have a bowling alley, and although Battle Ground's Indian population is nonexistent, we have a delicious family-owned Chinese restaurant much like the one Nakasero.
Shopping for clothes and random accouterments will be easier than in Kampala's chaotic Owino Market, as the Goodwill opened shop in Battle Ground about five years ago. There isn't a place to pick up the latest bootleg DVDs (but I hear everyone is online now with smartphones and fibreoptics so that shouldn't be a problem). And the latest Hollywood blockbusters are offered at the Battle Ground Cinemas, although I'll miss the graininess and poor audio quality of the films at the Garden City theater.
Perhaps I'll feel right at home back in good 'ol Battle Ground after all. Though I don't think the police will like me driving on the left-hand side of the road (or, more accurately, weaving in and out of traffic). They'll have to get used to that one.
Happy 4th of July.
24 June 2011
The Description of Service
One of our main responsibilities by the time we leave is to put together a Description of Service (DOS), an overview of everything we have done in the last two years fit onto about one page. This is also the only documentation that you get from Peace Corps that proves that you were a volunteer, and it's your only official record of your work. For the rest of your life. So it's kind of a big thing.
I've been hard at work on my DOS but writing about what I've done is difficult for two reasons: First, I'm tempted to use jargon and buzz-words, so I'll write something like, "Sensitized youths and vulnerable children on children's rights issues," when I really just yelled at a few straggling kids to get to school. Second, after I completed my first draft it really didn't look like I did a whole lot. Maybe it's perspective.
Also, most of what happens here is impossible to sum up in one sentence and falls outside of typical "work." For example, I can say that I trained 25 farmers in food security, or that I organized a workshop to train 25 farmers on improved agriculture (without specifics those statement could mean anything), but I can't say that I yelled at some kids to go to class. One of those happens once or twice, the other happens nearly every day. Which has more impact?
Here are some excerpts from one draft of my DOS:
- Read 54 novels of varying length, both fiction and non-fiction.
- Studied for 3 months for the GRE, learning over 100 new vocabulary words.
- Improved haggling skills, obtaining a price reduction of an average of 50% for all transactions.
- Suffered through less than 8 bouts of gastro-intestinal issues obtained from poorly prepared food and contaminated drinking water, among others.
- Managed to not get malaria.
- Maintained a relatively healthy diet and mastered cooking 3-pot meals on 1 burner.
The other draft looks more like this:
I've been hard at work on my DOS but writing about what I've done is difficult for two reasons: First, I'm tempted to use jargon and buzz-words, so I'll write something like, "Sensitized youths and vulnerable children on children's rights issues," when I really just yelled at a few straggling kids to get to school. Second, after I completed my first draft it really didn't look like I did a whole lot. Maybe it's perspective.
Also, most of what happens here is impossible to sum up in one sentence and falls outside of typical "work." For example, I can say that I trained 25 farmers in food security, or that I organized a workshop to train 25 farmers on improved agriculture (without specifics those statement could mean anything), but I can't say that I yelled at some kids to go to class. One of those happens once or twice, the other happens nearly every day. Which has more impact?
Here are some excerpts from one draft of my DOS:
- Read 54 novels of varying length, both fiction and non-fiction.
- Studied for 3 months for the GRE, learning over 100 new vocabulary words.
- Improved haggling skills, obtaining a price reduction of an average of 50% for all transactions.
- Suffered through less than 8 bouts of gastro-intestinal issues obtained from poorly prepared food and contaminated drinking water, among others.
- Managed to not get malaria.
- Maintained a relatively healthy diet and mastered cooking 3-pot meals on 1 burner.
The other draft looks more like this:
Project Development and Organizational Support
- Advised 4 organizations on program design and management for small enterprise projects.
- Developed a comprehensive coffee cooperative plan which included over 1,000 farmers in 35 farmer groups and increased farmer incomes by 200%, and established a village microfinance scheme.
- Networked with 3 international organizations resulting in strong partnerships and access to over $150,000 of capital in the form of loans and grants.
- Increased farmer profits of pineapple by 500% by introducing a value-addition scheme.
Educational Support and Training Facilitation
- Developed a comprehensive curriculum for teaching business and entrepreneurship at a rural vocational school and taught 24 students in business and entrepreneurship through formal classroom teaching, assignments, and field work.
- Mentored staff, teachers, and community members in bookkeeping and recordkeeping skills.
- Conducted 3 trainings on building fuel-efficient stoves with community partners.
- Trained 25 villagers in improved organic agriculture techniques, including composting and crop rotation, resulting in a 250% increase of bean yields over traditional methods.
Community Health
- Led 3 trainings on constructing and using improved fuel-efficient cook stoves.
- Linked 12 communities with the local NGO HeWaSa (Health through Water and Sanitation) and lobbied local government to upgrade, fix, and improve water sources in 12 villages.
- Trained 25 farmers and 65 youths in 3 communities in nutrition and food security.
Specialized Training
- Life Skills training – Peace Corps Uganda (one week).
- Program Design, Management, and Monitoring and Evaluation training – Peace Corps Uganda (4 days).
- Sales and Marketing Workshop – USAID Uganda, Sustainable Tourism in the Albertine Rift (2 days).
Leadership in Peace Corps
- Chairman of the Volunteer Advisory Committee (18 months).
- Led pre-service training activities with new volunteers.
- Obtained a Peace Corps grant worth $5800 to facilitate a three-day farmer’s workshop.
- Participated in redeveloping the Economic Development program, including identifying and establishing new goals, objectives, and indicators for the program.
- Helped organize Peace Corps Uganda’s 50th Anniversary Service Day celebration and managed 120 people engaged in 7 activities during the event.
09 June 2011
Close of Service
Our Close of Service (COS) conference just wrapping up. A two-day affair at a rather swanky (in Ugandan terms) hotel on Lake Victoria, we covered the logistics of leaving as well as important stuff like resumes, interviews, and what to do for the rest of your life. It was also a good time of reflection of our past two years of service. My training class began with 41 people, and 31 have made it to the conference - pretty good. Also, I know my last date as a Peace Corps volunteer: SEPTEMBER 22.
To be honest, now that I have the date the shock of leaving has begun to set in. It took a year from when I submitted my application to when I left for training. There was so much hype before going, and preparations and trainings once I got here. Twenty-four months felt like it would never end. With the days slowly ticking by, the months flying by, before I know it, it is already June (Christmas feels like last week). And now it's over.
What does a post-Peace Corps life mean? I'm scared to go home and find out. I'm afraid that once I go home I'll never go abroad again. I'm worried that I'll get stuck in some menial job again to pay my bills and before I know it I'll be fat and old. I have nothing to do from when I get home until I leave for grad school (applications are pending!) - about 10 months. If anyone wants to hire me, please give me a call! I'm a great babysitter, and I know how to keep chickens.
Friendships and Relationships- I have met some of the best people in Uganda. As volunteers we are taken out of our comfortable known world and flug halfway across the globe and put with a group of complete strangers. It is these strangers, 150 in Uganda, with which you make your friends and support structure. Volunteers come from all walks of life with diverse histories, interests, and goals. Since I am forced to hang out with these other volunteer we develop friendships and bonds that, if we had remained in America, probably would never have happened.
These people are amazing. It opened my eyes to everyone out there. They have been remarkable, challenging me to improve myself and my capabilities. I thank my fellow volunteers for the amazing experience I have had; it would be incomplete without them.
And here's to the next 15 weeks. I have a lot of work to wrap up but still many goals I want to accomplish and friends to make. Mom and Dad, it's been a long time away, but I'll be home before you know it.
02 May 2011
The Book List
Needless to say, I have a lot of free time on my hands. When I joined Peace Corps I had a rough goal of reading 100 books over two years - that's about a book a week. I'm in my 19th month here and last week finished book number 50, so I don't think I'll make the 100 mark. Without further blabbering, here is the list with my completely objective rating system (5 is the highest):
1. Swahili for the Broken Hearted, P. Moore 3 p. 341
2. Demian H. Hesse 3 p. 116
3. The Poe Shadow M. Pearle 1 p. 400
4. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius D. Eggers 4 p. 485
5. Jitterbug Perfume T. Robbins 5 p. 342
6. The Big Sleep R. Chandler 4 p. 139
7. The Rum Diary H. S. Thompson 3 p. 204
8. It S. King 3 ½ p. 1066
9. The Devil in the White City E. Larson 3 ½ p. 390
10. Guns, Germs, and Steel J. Diamond 4 p. 440
11. Motorcycle Diaries C. Guevara 2 ½ p. 165
12. Shadow of Kilimanjaro R. Ridgeway 2 p. 263
13. A Brave New World A. Huxley 4 p. 227
14. A Confederacy of Dunces J. K. Toole 4 p. 394
15. The Shock Doctrine N. Klein 3 ½ p. 589
16. State of Fear M. Crichton 3 p. 714
17. The Lost Continent B. Bryson 3 ½ p. 299
18. White Man’s Burden W. Easterly 3 ½ p. 382
19. Duma Key S. King 3 ½ p. 687
20. Life Expectancy D. Koonz 2 ½ p. 531
21. Three Cups of Tea G. Mortensen 3 ½ p. 331
22. The Men Who Stare at Goats J. Ronson 2 ½ p. 273
23. The Sicilian M. Puzo 2 ½ p. 408
24. Dead Aid D. Moyo 3 ½ p. 154
25. Perfume P. Susskind 3 ½ p. 263
26. White Noise D. DeLillo 4 p. 310
27. The Mission Song J. LeCarre 3 p. 390
28. King Leopold’s Ghost A. Hochschild 4 p. 318
29. The Trouble with Africa R. Calderisi 3 ½ p. 256
30. Catcher in the Rye J. D. Salinger 4 p. 214
31. I’m A Stranger Here Myself B. Bryson 3 p. 288
32. A Thousands Hills S. Kinzer 2 ½ p. 338
33. Democracy Kills H. Dempsey 2 ½ p. 356
34. Connected N. Christakis, et al. 3 p. 305
35. Outliers M. Gladwell 2 ½ p. 285
36. Middlesex J. Eugenides 2 ½ p. 523
37. The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind W. Kamkwamba 2 p. 273
38. The Zanzibar Chest A. Hartley 3 ½ p. 446
39. 1984 G. Orwell 4 p. 310
40. The Colorado Kid S. King 1 ½ p. 184
41. Pirate Latitudes M. Crichton 3 p. 387
42. Sex Lives of Cannibals J. M. Troost 3 p. 272
43. Cosmopolis D. DeLillo 2 ½ p. 207
44. Skinny Legs and All T. Robbins 4 p. 422
45. The Holcroft Covenant R. Ludlum 2 p. 492
46. The Lady in the Lake R. Chandler 3 p. 212
47. The End of Mr. Y S. Thomas 4 p. 502
48. Banished Children of Eve P. Quinn 3 ½ p. 598
49. A Good Man in Africa W. Boyd 4 p. 312
50. From Those Wonderful Folks who Brought you Pearl Harbor, J. D. Femina 2 p. 270
27 April 2011
A Letter to a Friend
Dear Cabbage,
At first I didn't really like you (I'm more of a romaine or red-leaf kind of guy), but I'm glad we've been able to get to know each other over the past year. It's been fun spending my evenings with you, enjoying the occasional taco-night, or the throwback fried-veggies with Royco and rice.
I look forward to the time we have remaining, though the five months will go quickly. I will never forget you.
Forever yours,
Matt
At first I didn't really like you (I'm more of a romaine or red-leaf kind of guy), but I'm glad we've been able to get to know each other over the past year. It's been fun spending my evenings with you, enjoying the occasional taco-night, or the throwback fried-veggies with Royco and rice.
I look forward to the time we have remaining, though the five months will go quickly. I will never forget you.
Forever yours,
Matt
15 April 2011
A Tale of Two Villages
October 15, 2009
It was 8:30 at night when I first arrived at my site. There wasn't an electric light in over 10 miles in any direction, and I was exhausted after my first 8-hour African bus trip. When I got off the bus I was met by a group of teenagers whose faces I could hardly see from the small torch on my cell phone. They picked my suitcases, giggling, and started walking away from the road, presumably toward my house. I was soon met by some other people who eagerly introduced themselves and shook my hand. I was so turned around their names were forgotten as soon as they were spoken. We went through a field and a short distance beyond I was met by some more people hanging around an old concrete house. The teens giggled and talked amongst themselves in a language I couldn't begin to comprehend.
Welcome home. Two candles lit inside greeted me by casting eerie shadows on the poorly pained walls. The ceiling looked as if it had burn marks across it, the depths of the discoloration accentuated in the candlelight. Soon people began to leave, giving me time to settle in. My counterpart brought me a kerosene stove and a pot so I could boil water, gave me some chapati and a liter of coca-cola.
When everyone finally left, I sat on the concrete floor, alone, uncomfortable in my new surroundings. I ate the chapati, drank the coke, and tried to sleep on a half-made bed with an eye open for cockroaches and mice. Unable to get the kerosene stove to boil anything, I lived on 4 chapati and a second liter of coke for the next three days.
March 24, 2011
Peace Corps came at 10am to load my things and move me to my new site. (It's incredible how much crap you accumulate after a year!) By 10:30 we were finished and ready to go, but when it came time to hand over the keys, a fist fight broke out between my counterpart and my neighbor. Soon the students from the vocational school were there, and word spread through the coconut telegraph so fast that before long villagers from the nearby trading center started filtering in to watch and partake in the chaos. My program manager told me to get the keys, which I did, then we left the brawl behind. A village problem now, not in my control and not my worry, but it was pathetic to watch the people I've lived and worked with for the past year and a half become so petty and greedy and unable to work out their festering issues.
Later that afternoon I rolled into Kazingo, my new village at the base of the Rwenzori Mountains. Now a professional at Peace Corps living, my bed was made and stove hooked up in less than an hour. After Peace Corps left I made mashed potatoes with beef jerky (thanks mom), my stand-in for steak. I met some villagers and settled in for my last six months in Uganda.
It was 8:30 at night when I first arrived at my site. There wasn't an electric light in over 10 miles in any direction, and I was exhausted after my first 8-hour African bus trip. When I got off the bus I was met by a group of teenagers whose faces I could hardly see from the small torch on my cell phone. They picked my suitcases, giggling, and started walking away from the road, presumably toward my house. I was soon met by some other people who eagerly introduced themselves and shook my hand. I was so turned around their names were forgotten as soon as they were spoken. We went through a field and a short distance beyond I was met by some more people hanging around an old concrete house. The teens giggled and talked amongst themselves in a language I couldn't begin to comprehend.
Welcome home. Two candles lit inside greeted me by casting eerie shadows on the poorly pained walls. The ceiling looked as if it had burn marks across it, the depths of the discoloration accentuated in the candlelight. Soon people began to leave, giving me time to settle in. My counterpart brought me a kerosene stove and a pot so I could boil water, gave me some chapati and a liter of coca-cola.
When everyone finally left, I sat on the concrete floor, alone, uncomfortable in my new surroundings. I ate the chapati, drank the coke, and tried to sleep on a half-made bed with an eye open for cockroaches and mice. Unable to get the kerosene stove to boil anything, I lived on 4 chapati and a second liter of coke for the next three days.
March 24, 2011
Peace Corps came at 10am to load my things and move me to my new site. (It's incredible how much crap you accumulate after a year!) By 10:30 we were finished and ready to go, but when it came time to hand over the keys, a fist fight broke out between my counterpart and my neighbor. Soon the students from the vocational school were there, and word spread through the coconut telegraph so fast that before long villagers from the nearby trading center started filtering in to watch and partake in the chaos. My program manager told me to get the keys, which I did, then we left the brawl behind. A village problem now, not in my control and not my worry, but it was pathetic to watch the people I've lived and worked with for the past year and a half become so petty and greedy and unable to work out their festering issues.
Later that afternoon I rolled into Kazingo, my new village at the base of the Rwenzori Mountains. Now a professional at Peace Corps living, my bed was made and stove hooked up in less than an hour. After Peace Corps left I made mashed potatoes with beef jerky (thanks mom), my stand-in for steak. I met some villagers and settled in for my last six months in Uganda.
12 March 2011
The Libya Connection
Thank you, Voice of America and BBC World Service, for keeping me abreast on how quickly the world out there is going to hell. I'm all about democracy and freedom, but as seen in Uganda's elections democracy doesn't just happen overnight. Quick change of government can bad (Robespierre comes to mind and he died over 200 years ago).
Now that Libya has descended into civil war, we can more clearly see the power and influence Libya and Qaddafi had on African politics and economics. In the case of Uganda alone, he built the main mosque in Kampala (the road surrounding it aptly named Qaddafi Road). He paid for my king's palace in Fort Portal, as well as the building of the mosque in that city, too. Libya owns a majority share of Uganda Telecom, as well as one of our banks, not to mention supplies a lot of our oil (we even have the oil company OiLibya).
Which brings me to the point of all this: gas prices are going through the roof! Again! A liter of petrol is now 3400 shillings, about $1.44, or $5.60 per gallon. And that's when there is petrol. One station in Fort Portal had gasoline yesterday in a town of six stations and the lines stopped traffic on the main road. The police were called out to keep order. Prices have gone up for goods already, as well as transportation when cars have gas to go anywhere.
It is interesting to see the reverberations of a geopolitical event 1600 kilometers (erm, 1000 miles) away. It will be more interesting to see the effects six months or a year from now. Uganda's 7% inflation rate just might be going up. But then again, I'm a poli-sci nerd.
Now that Libya has descended into civil war, we can more clearly see the power and influence Libya and Qaddafi had on African politics and economics. In the case of Uganda alone, he built the main mosque in Kampala (the road surrounding it aptly named Qaddafi Road). He paid for my king's palace in Fort Portal, as well as the building of the mosque in that city, too. Libya owns a majority share of Uganda Telecom, as well as one of our banks, not to mention supplies a lot of our oil (we even have the oil company OiLibya).
Which brings me to the point of all this: gas prices are going through the roof! Again! A liter of petrol is now 3400 shillings, about $1.44, or $5.60 per gallon. And that's when there is petrol. One station in Fort Portal had gasoline yesterday in a town of six stations and the lines stopped traffic on the main road. The police were called out to keep order. Prices have gone up for goods already, as well as transportation when cars have gas to go anywhere.
It is interesting to see the reverberations of a geopolitical event 1600 kilometers (erm, 1000 miles) away. It will be more interesting to see the effects six months or a year from now. Uganda's 7% inflation rate just might be going up. But then again, I'm a poli-sci nerd.
06 March 2011
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.
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.
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