Arua

I couldn't wait to leave Kampala. It's not that it is a bad place,
it's just that I needed some fresh air. I needed some peace and quiet.
When my visa extension finally came through, I hopped the first bus up
north to Arua, my new home for the next few months.

The first thing that struck me was how organized the bus was. Our bags
were tagged and put underneath and we were instructed not to bring
chickens or fish into the bus. We were given bags for vomiting and
told that we shouldn't worry since we could get new ones when these
were full. There was no charge.

I was definitely not in China.

Before the bus took off, the conductor asked us all to pray (a bit
ominous perhaps) and then turned on a some classic gospel numbers by
Dolly Parton and other famous voices mixed in with a couple of
Christmas numbers. Within a few minutes though, the volume had hit a
rather uncomfortable level and I dug out my ear plugs. Of course it
was only because of the volume...

Not far into the journey, the landscape turned into the characteristic
tropical Ugandan countryside. Lush and alive. After about 4 hours, we
were into Murchison Falls Park. Monkeys, gorgeous birds, hippos and
various ungulates dotted the landscape. I almost bounced out of my
seat at the sight of the hippos. I kept yelling "Look! Hippos!" but no
one seemed that excited. I kept giggling every time I saw another one,
or any animal for that matter.

When the bus pulled in to Arua (after 8hours) I was totally taken off
guard. I had expected a tiny village with barely any services. What I
saw was a medium sized town (meaning it was about 5 blocks wide) with
a very large and lively market selling pretty much everything you can
imagine. Being less than 10km from the border of the DR Congo, and
60km from Sudan, supplies are plentiful and many of the stalls are
decorated in the brilliantly coloured textiles characteristic of the
region.

I unpacked from the bus and hoped a truck out to the compound of Peace
for All International, the NGO I am working for. Our compound is just
on the edge of town in the lush green sub-village of Mvara. We have no
electricity (nor does most of Arua anyhow) and no running water (but a
'water bore' or well is near by). We live in cute little grass roofed
huts with walls painted pink - seriously, they look like little
cupcakes. A model chicken (egg) farm (free-run) is being built on the
compound (oh dear). With no electricity the nights are incredible. So
many stars. You can even see the Milkyway clearly. Giant fruit bats
fly about in the evening. Honestly, I think it is about as close to
heaven as I can be.

People here are known to be extremely friendly, and I think they more
than live up to their reputation. They always seem happy to see me,
and grin even wider when I speak to them in Lubara, one of the many
local languages.

Ngoni! (How are you?/Hello)
Mamoke (I'm well)
Ngoni? (How are you?)
Mamoke (I am well too)
Mi ala? (Are you fine)
Ma ala (I am fine)
Mi ala? (Are you fine)
Ma ala (I am fine)

... and on and on it goes, like a verbal dance of lead and follow.

On a humorous note, I have been using my Lubara extensively to try and
get more comfortable with it. They funny part is I know how to ask
more than I can understand the answers. For example, I asked the price
of something, but since the numbers for money are so large, I couldn't
understand the answer... I had to ask the man in English for the next
item (and hope he understood).

I hope to have pictures up soon, but since I am off to Pader in the
central north tomorrow, those will have to wait. I will be there for a
week doing research and meeting other NGO workers in the region.

For those of you who are interested, watch the movie War/Dance and you
will learn about the people of Pader and their struggles. It's a heart
warming movie of a very troubled past.

In my next post, I hope to introduce you to the people I am working
with. They are the people of Bibia, a slum here in Arua. Approximately
80% are HIV positive, and many of the local criminals use the village
as a hideout (but are quite friendly actually). Unfortunately drug
abuse and sex work are common because there are so few options and the
area is incredibly poverty stricken. But within the community there is
an extraordinary amount of strength, resilience and compassion. The
kids play. The women challenge gender stereotypes and norms. The men
are eager to work together to improve the community. There is a magic
there. But that is for another post...

Tourism, wealth and my own insecurities

I'm sitting in Entebbe at an old, colonial period government hotel
(resort) killing time as I wait for friends.

Being in a place like this completely takes me out of my comfort zone.
The lawns are meticulously manicured; the massive pool is spotlessly
clean; and even the crickets seem somehow to be organized in to a sort
of unison. Coming form the loud and chaotic Kampala, this calculated
tranquility should be calming, but I find it strangely unsettling.

Yes, I struggle with luxury, particularly when it is so close to so
much poverty. A cup of tea here costs more than the servers make in a
day. The pool maintenance requires more staff and resources than many
primary schools in the country have (most are horrendously
understaffed and under resourced). The clients here are predominantly
white tourists.

I laugh at myself for thinking that. Tourism funds many aspects of
society here including parks and wildlife preservation, and it creates
much needed employment for people (unemployment here is very very
high). Besides, I am often a tourist too, and I regularly try and
encourage people to come and experience Uganda. Still, I feel uneasy
with the obvious disparity in a place like this.

What strikes me even more is why I notice this disparity so much here.
Tourism is like that anywhere, Canada included. There are ubber-high
end hotels only blocks from Vancouver's downtown eastside. Homeless
folks sleep on the streets of Paris right next to grandiose hotels.
Oddly though, in those places for some reason it seems less obvious.
Yet, is it any different? Employees in those hotels couldn't afford
the rooms or food in their place of employment just like here.

My squirminess isn't spread equally.

Maybe I am too sensitive. Maybe I carry to much western-guilt.
Actually there is no maybe about it. I DO carry tons of western guilt.
I think most of us who volunteer (or work for tiny salaries) for NGOs
or charities around the world feel that guilt. It's why we do what we
do.

So let me try and work out a justification for why I shouldn't be so
sensitive...walk with me as I try and lose some of this guilt...

Besides the direct income benefit, tourism makes people feel a sense
of connection to a place. It gives them a tangible reason for donating
to development or reconstruction projects in certain parts of the
world. When people see poverty they sometimes feel more motivated to
help, or maybe donate more than they usually would. Who hasn't been
somewhere, seen extreme poverty, and vowed that on your next trip you
will bring supplies (i.e. school supplies, clothes, whatever is needed
and can be brought)? Or what about donations to relief effort. After
the tsunami in south east Asia, for example, more donor money flowed
to the rescue and reconstruction efforts than almost any other effort
in the last 10 years. I would argue that the fact tourists had a
direct connection to the place, either by having been a visitor to
that area or a connection to someone who was negatively affected
(friends or family), that they donated more. I know it hit me and I
donated even though I was strapped for cash at that time.

Then there is the other issue, a $50,000 cheque does a lot more for a
charity or development project than a $50 one (the admin costs alone
eat up half of that in processing fees). It's people who stay in the
Shangri La who are giving the $50,000, or are at least they are the
ones who are more likely to be able to. Who am I to judge their style
of travel when they may in fact also be the ones making such a massive
difference?

I remember a family member once reminding me that to become rich and
pay for development does more than staying poor and getting your hands
dirty. While I may not entirely agree (unless your 'getting rich' is
not based on exploiting others or the environment) but it certainly is
food for thought.

I think the outcome of this random musing is that I need to accept
that we need both - places for people who need luxury and donate, and
places for people who try and live amongst the locals and donate their
labour (and small cheques). Both are equally important. Both are
needed. Money is needed to make projects happen - skills and expertise
are needed to make sure the project work and are long-term.

There. Have I convinced myself? Maybe...

...I will certainly leave a bigger tip tonight for the kindly man who
patiently stood by as I drank my tea.

Sunrise

(when I have a regular internet connection I will attach pictures to
these stories)

After seeing some friends off to the airport at 5:30am in Entebbe, I
walked into the quiet early morning darkness looking for a bus back
into Kampala. I passed a security guard who was thrilled to have some
company. We had a nice chat. He was looking forward to the sun coming
up because it meant he could go home and sleep. Night shifts are long
in Uganda being on the equator. I bid him a good sleep and stood on
the side of the road waiting for a mini-bus to pass. One stopped, I
told him where I was going (in Lugandan) and hopped in. We drove
slowly along the road as he tried to solicit more passengers
(something he was very skilled at). I shared my breakfast snack with
him (sickly sweet "glucose biscuits"). As the bus filled, some of us
exchanged greetings. We couldn't see each other because the sun had
still not risen and there are no street lights in most of the country.
I watched as we passed bars and restaurants along the side of the
road, their patrons still milling about before heading home after an
all night adventure. Naked bulbs hung above some doorways.

As a bit more time passed, the black sky shifted to a dark blue, to an
orange and then pink. I could see Lake Victoria come to light below
the colourful sky. Small boats were already on the water, perhaps
coming home. Life began to stir, or at least from what I could see. I
guess by now the guard from the hotel was home sleeping.

And then it struck me - I am in Uganda. I was speaking with people in
a mix of Lugandan and English and just part of the bus of people
moving towards the city. I am not saying I "fit in" by any stretch of
the imagination, but I felt like I was apart of this flow of life that
is here...just moving with it. It's hard to explain. Something just
felt different. I felt more at home than I had before.

No, I am not planning on staying here for years and years, but I think
I have finally hit that threshold when you don't feel like a total
tourist or outsider. You have your tasks, your patterns - your life
here. It's a comforting feeling.

By the time the sky completely brightened I was already in Kampala.
Morning must have started here a few hours ago as the streets were
already filled with people and a mix of smog and dust was sitting in
it's usual place right at head level. As I got off the bus at the main
taxi stop (bus terminal),I felt like becoming part of the morning rush
of people and I opted to do the rest of the journey by foot - a 2km
walk along busy Kampala Avenue.

I don't know why, but I found myself smiling the whole way home.

Full Moon on Lake Victoria

On my way home from a meeting last night, I stopped by a fishing
village on one of the little northern arms of Lake Victoria. The last
colours of the sunset were slowly fading behind me, and along the
shores, vendors began to set up their night market stalls. The smell
of roasted corn, fried fish, chipatis and other local favourites
filled the air. Fisherman readied their boats for their evening
harvest. A couple of youths swam about the pier as numerous people
watched them with curious fascination (probably since the majority of
people in Uganda are unable to swim).

And then I noticed it... the moon slowly emerging from behind a low
cloud. First just a sliver, then little by little a perfectly round
pearl-like moon developed. It lit up the night and cast a gorgeous
shimmering moon path along the top of the water. Perhaps it's because
there is little electricity or ambient light, but the moon seemed
brighter here than I ever remembered it being. Stunning.

I stood in awe for a few minutes, whispered a quiet "nyago nyago" (a
Japanese phrase) to those who might catch it, and wandered back to my
taxi, my moon-shadow following along behind.

Kayunga District

Depending on which road you travel on out of Kampala, within a couple
of KM you could either be in lush tropical forests zipping along on
dirt roads, or never feel like you have left the city as you crawl
along the jammed pavement. The other day I took option number one as I
headed out to do some research in Kayunga District, about 80km NE of
Kampala.

From my seat in the back of a cramped minivan "taxi" (known as a
mutatu in Uganda), I eagerly watched as permanent brick buildings gave
way to simple brick structures with metal roofs, and finally adobe and
grass roofed huts. The streets went from paved to dirt and the
landscaped became more and more dense. Bicycles and motorbikes
(bodas) began to replace the mutatus and Japanese cast-off SUVs (every
vehicle here is from Japan, most being old company cars from Japan
with the names or departments still printed on the side in Japanese).
Throngs of well dressed adults turned to semi-clad children. Perhaps
the only thing that remained the same were the massive storks that fly
about Uganda, only this time they were resting in the trees rather
than roof tops.

As we sped towards Kayunga, the road become progressively more
potholed and rough, something that didn't seem to phase the driver as
he stepped on the gas and rocketed us at 100km narrowly past herds of
cattle and children. I really thought that any moment we would life
off the ground.

Kayunga is one of the forgotten districts in Uganda. While it's only
about 80km from the capital, it is incredibly rural. There are few
roads or services, and most people are either farmers or fisherfolk.
HIV infection is high, as are malaria cases and diseases stemming from
poor sanitation. It gets almost no assistance despite being so poor.
Geographically, it is sandwiched between Lake Victoria to the south,
Lake K to the north, the Nile to east, and a massive swamp to the
west. It's lush and very fertile, but also a heavy breeding ground for
mosquitos.

Electricity can be a novelty in some areas, particularly the north,
and most health centres have no reliable electrical source nor running
water (most water is retrieved from wells or "water bores"). Schools
are usually over crowded, with a 150 students to one teacher - few
professionals want to work in the region because it is so "rural."

Interestingly, it is incredibly culturally diverse. It has over 53
different ethnic groups, meaning it has almost all the groups found in
all of Uganda. Many theorists suggest that this should be a recipe for
disaster (conflict) but in reality is has added to the peacefulness of
the district as people learned to get a long many generations ago.

My days in Kayunga consisted of meeting local government officials,
non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and other members of civil
society to ask questions about social services and assess whether or
not the district would meet the national development goals. Evenings
would be leisurely walks through the farmlands, finally ending up back
at the market where I would collect delicious fruits, chipati (Indian
bread), beans and of course the homemade steaming hot delicious chai,
which I would then take back to my hotel to eat. Back at the hotel I
would meet other guests or my fellow classmates and we would laugh at
the random 80s and 90s music playing in the hotel garden, or the
dubbed (into English) Spanish soap operas that are incredibly popular
here and played on every availed screen - but only when major soccer
matches aren't on.

I learned on this adventure that even in the poorest areas, people
still seem to be happy, on some level. They want more out of life and
hope they will have a chance to go beyond subsistence, but even in
their current situation they find peace and joy. It's a lesson we call
all take home.

In the end, there is no way Kayunga will make the country's
development goals, but the people of this area will continue to push
on, with or without electricity.

More swim fun

OK, enough about swimming I know, but I have to share the practice
schedule from the other day.

First, 1 hour of intense IM workout (butterfly, backstroke, and
breaststroke)

Then the "rest" phase:

5 minutes of flutter kick with your hands above your head, followed by
another five minutes of butterfly (dolphin) kick with hands up. No
touching the sides, ropes or bottom of the pool.

Ya, rest? Hmm, maybe we have different ideas of what rest is...

From there we went into 30mins of sprinting all out (with 10 to 15
seconds rest in between sprints).

If I survive these workouts I should come out of it a better swimmer.

The funny thing is that through it all I could hear my coach in
Canada's voice (Khosro) saying, "I know you can do it, Bruce..."

Not a chance I will complain or give up. Like Khosro has taught me, I
simply say "OK, coach" (as I try and catch my breath) and just keep
swimming.

My First Swim Meet

For the swimmers out there, I had to share the news that I swam in my
first swim meet in Uganda on April 24th. I was training with some of
the national team folks when the pool was cleared for a university
meet. I stayed to watch and help out, but nearing the end (just as I
was leaving), the organizers came running over and pulled me, Kalid
from Tanzania, Max from Kenya, and another swimmer Uganda to make an
"international exhibition team" to take on the university. What a
blast. The music was pumping and the crowd was cheering as we took
positions. In the 4x100 we smoked all 3 other teams. The crowd wanted
a closer match so the organizers grabbed the best of the university
(including paying the top Ugandan swimmer to join them) for a fast and
furious 4x25. The race was close. The first 25metres we were in the
lead; the second we were behind; I brought us even for the 3rd, and we
took it by an arm in the last few metres. The crowd went crazy. We all
laughed and danced around on the deck for a while before taking off
for food and a night of celebrating. I don't think I will ever forget
that race...

Slowly Uncovering Uganda

I am constantly amazed at the candidness of people here and what they
are willing to share. Government officials who freely criticize the
elected officials and their corruption; academics who point out the
failures of the education in the country; aid workers who express
sadness at the failure of projects. It's refreshing to hear such
honesty. Everyone seems to want to share their frustration or concern
with the hope of finding a solution.

Uganda has had a rough go at things. From Idi Amin to the LRA, peace
and stability are still new and the without the correct steps, the
country could easily slide back into violence and conflict like so
many of its neighbours. Uganda can't handle that though. If it does
slip, it will be a long time before it recovers because old wounds run
very deeply. The image of mutilated bodies and child soldiers are
still on people's minds. People are therefore willing to accept the
current corrupt government so long as they don't have to return to the
horrors of the past. It's a trade-off that people are willing to
accept for now.

The Gross Domestic Product (GDP) has risen and the average household
income level is up, at least on paper. What this doesn't show,
however, is that there is an enormous and ever growing gap between the
rich and the poor – there are a few VERY wealthy people (mostly
politicians), but the overwhelming majority of the country still live
on less than a dollar a day – and Uganda is not cheap.

Because of this, for me, I still find it hard to see the offices of
major aid agencies like the Red Cross who have huge gated armed
compounds enclosing mansions. Satellite dishes, air conditioners, and
generators clutter the otherwise impeccably kept gardens ensuring
people inside have all the comforts of western living. I've heard the
justifications (donor relations, the need for top executives and they
expect the best, the need for places to entertain and host
dignitaries, etc.) but we don't usually do that in Canada even. Why is
the standard different here? The contrast between the aid agencies and
those they are helping is a bit overwhelming. Maybe I shouldn't be so
hard of them though. Most are doing great work, and without them this
country would collapse. Approximately 80 percent of the funding in the
government budget is from foreign aid. No, that is not sustainable,
but it is keeping the peace for the time being, until the country gets
its feet on the ground again at least. The aid agencies are reducing
the chances of yet another eruption of conflict in Africa, something
that is always on the margins. They are also helping people on the
ground directly by helping reintegrate child soldiers, grow crops and
provide much needed medical assistance. HIV/Aids programs are reducing
the infection rate, something that many other countries are struggling
to even contain.

I remain optimistic. There are a lot of good people here doing great
things and I am still among the hopeful that things will only get
better.

New Friends

I am still in shock, maybe awe and delight too, at just how incredibly
kind and loving people seem to be in Uganda. Everyone smiles. People
hold hands or touch in some other way. When someone asks, "How are
you?" they wait to hear your answer and usually follow-up with more
questions about how you slept, your gastronomic status, or both.

I've met people from all over the country and indeed from all over
Africa. My new game is to try and guess someone's district or country
based on phenotypic characteristics. I can already usually distinguish
northerners, Kenyans, Bugandans, Ethiopians, Congolese and Sudanese.
It's fascinating. I can't wait to start learning dialects so that I
can catch those subtitles.

…Speaking of which, I've started learning some of the local Lungandan
– one of the 56 languages here. I am also trying to learn a bit of the
main language of Arua, but that is going to have to wait more or less
until I head up there since I have no chance to really practice it in
Kampala and the south. Pronunciation is relatively easy, with the
exception of all the rolling "r" sounds which seem to appear more in
the northern dialects.

But back to the people… A snap shot of some of the folks I've met:

Christopher from Gulu. Gulu is one of the northern towns hit hard by
the Lords Resistance Army (LRA) over the years. The LRA is the main
rebel group in the area that abducts children as soldiers and forces
them to do horrendous acts such as raping and mutilating villagers,
particularly family members so the youth can never return. Fortunately
the LRA have been pushed out and have been inactive in Uganda for a
number of years (unfortunately they are now in the Congo and Sudan
though). Christopher grew up with the violence, and still to this day
doesn't know what happened to his uncle who was abducted by the LRA.
Christopher is probably one of the smartest people I have ever met. He
has won numerous scholarships and studied all over the Africa and
speaks numerous languages. He is always laughing and pretty much
everyone who meets him loves him instantly. I think him and I will
remain friends.

Kalid, a Tanzanian who swam in the Beijing Olympics. We met swimming
and he asked me to join the Ugandan national team training sessions.
He's fast, and getting faster. He started swimming later than most. He
got into it because his dad had a boating accident many years ago and
almost drown because he couldn't swim. His dad never wanted his son to
day at sea so he forced Kalid to learn. Now he swims professionally.
He works for Right To Play, an organization that works around the
world with youth to use sport to teach compassion, respect, and
peacebuilding, but also to give youth in conflict or post-conflict or
poverty stricken areas the chance to play, to be kids. His wife is
still in Tanzania and is expecting their first child in June. I hope
to go hang out with him and his wife later this year.

Flavia, is a stunning Ugandan woman from near Kampala. She kind,
caring and seems to try to make everyone feel welcome. She spends a
few moments with everyone in the class each morning inquiring into the
day, health, etc. She makes everyone feel welcome. She also keeps me
supplied with Jackfruit, known as fene here. Yup, she knows how to
keep me as a friend…food…

Enock, also known as the King of the Jungle. His laughter is like the
roar of a lion (hence the name), which also matches his size (he's a
body builder). He is from the mountainous region in the west. He loves
Uganda and is probably one of the most patriotic people I have ever
met. It's no surprise he is planning to become a politician one day.
He is trying to hire me, but I have politely declined for now.

These are just a few of my many people I have met and spent time with,
but there really are many many more. Like Asina, a true angel -
beautiful, kind, intelligent and ambitious, yet very quiet and
reserved; Wilfred the vet, a joy to be around… the list could go on
and on.

I hope you can meet them all, one day, but until then I hope my meagre
words can bring you just a bit closer for now.