This weekend…. I got stuck in the bush for too long and was too late for my 2:00 bus. We were handing over some roads to the district (after we finish new construction projects, we hand them over to the district, sub-county, and local community – I love them sometimes for the entertaining communities but they pretty much suck). This was the second shot because there was some issue the first time. We had two sub-counties to hand over. The first one was fine, but they were kind of being bitchy when the community didn’t contribute the 10% materials so they needed more marram (stone/dirt for roads). I was like, “get y’own damn marram. Read the MoU. Involve your communities. Get their buy-in so they maintain the shit.” So that ran a little late. For the second one, the sub-county chief (in fact everybody from the sub-county office) was gone, so and they were the reason that we had to return for the second time. So the district official was like “fuck them” and we went to find the most local of local leaders at the trading centre. He wasn’t there. Then we went down the road. It ended in the bush at a national park kind of. We turned around. We saw some kids so I got out of the car and chased them. Some cried, others laughed. While I was doing that, my main man Kinyera was asking the parents where the local of local leaders was. Turned out they were at a nearby school construction that looked like it was a local of local projects, which is good around here because people have become too reliant on NGOs. This community was so much better than the first one. The road looked great (especially compared to the first one, which was embarrassing in parts). The community made their contribution, they worked hard on the road (we manage the process, but pay local labour and it’s their job to maintain it after so buy-in is better when they build it themselves) and the road looked great. Now they’re building a school. I was standing next to one dude was holding a freshly killed squirrel. We made eye contact. He smiled proudly and showed me his kill. I was like, “nice kill, man.” So they asked some questions and did the usual “give us more” and we were like “nothing right now, but talk to your sub-counties” (project selection is challenging; local governments can be shit at selecting roads so we’re getting the communities more involved in new projects). Then I made a little speech as is customary at these things where I told them to keep up the good work and that they rocked because they were proactive about the road and the school. Then they were like “don’t we usually get sodas at these things?” and I was like “yeah, but we had to walk deep into the bush just to find… fuck it, yeah, let’s hurry up! I’m late for a bus to Kampala!” So I ran to the car through the bush and they followed excitedly. I started popping off bottles of sticky soda (PepsiCo Products, not great for local business or dental health), dishing that shit out like the bartending days…. I was using a water bottle cap to pry them off and those suckers come flying. One ricochet off of my face and I was still picking out puss at a meeting today. Then came the “glucose biscuits”, which incited a riot. We left.
Late for my 2:00 bus, the truck dropped me at the gas station. Apparently there are busses from Juba that come frequently and go to Kampala. In less time than it took to meet some dude who audits us and take two sips of beer, a guy from the station told me a woman was driving her car to Kampala so I managed to get shotgun of a roomy car, rather than the cramped, far worse than Peter Pan Coachline, shit-ass bus filled with people and stuff (yes, including plenty of chickens, goats, people eating meat on sticks and cassava root with their hands where you’re lucky to not get stuck in between two people or wait in the bus park for two hours before it leaves. Busses are great, though. Last night I had a damn bible conversation going on behind me for about 7 hours (but that’s last night, I’m still on Friday afternoon).
The woman giving me a ride was Jennifer. She was driving like a bat out of hell, reaching 160 k/hr which probably isn’t fast on well-maintained U.S. roads, but damn it felt fast. That might actually be 100 mph which is pretty insane on these roads (paved, but not so wide with absolutely no lines painted and with people on bikes and foot (including children strapped to backs) are just poking along the sides – there’s not enough room for 2 lanes of traffic and 2 lanes of people so something always gives). We made it. We had some good fun. Me, Jennifer, and two educated dudes. We listened to my mp3 player, we watched the sun set, we stopped at some random spot where Jennifer knew they sold some good honey, but there was nobody there.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Letter to Uncle Dave
I haven't talked to my Uncle Dave in years, but we recently reconnected on facebook and he sent me an email.. he bought some land in the country in South Carolina, built a small house and a horse barn, got a new horse, and seems to be very happy and relaxed as he's preparing for retirement. I replied with an update on my life - very different paths, but both of are happy with what we're doing - though he's a lot closer to retirement.
Hi, Uncle Dave!
I just sat down and quickly checked my emails before I dug into some work. It's 7:30 and I'm about to put together a monthly report for my area that I'm in charge of. My organization builds infrastructure, assists in disaster settings, builds economies, and does a lot of other stuff, too. We're looking to move more into governance next year. It's well recognized that local officials in Africa need help, but it takes a lot of soft skills and is tough to just change - like you can build a school or a road and it's there - but with governance, a whole lot of effort can go into projects that have very little immediate impact and where the long term impact is questionable.
One of my program managers (there are three expat program managers - two Brittish dudes and a Californian) ...anyway, one of them just came into my room to vent about some staff issues he's having. The staff are very challenging to manage, primarily because of their communications skills. They can speak to you eloquently and they're all very nice all the time, but they don't seem to process things in a manner that fosters proactive communication
Okay - now it's 8:15 and I just got off a 15 minute phone conversation about some crazy old man who's making false claims against us for destroying 3 acres of his land by revitalizing a road that was already there. Apparently, the entire community supports us and they're trying to convince him tomorrow to check himself. He just came from Kampala, the capital where he lives and his lawyers sent a letter to my country director telling us they're suing us.
8:16 and I just got a call from my country director asking if the Californian project manager had called me. He's expected in Kampala but hasn't shown up yet. I'm sure he's fine - traveling's a bitch sometimes here.
Now it's two weeks later.... a testament to how busy it gets here! It's the Tuesday between Christmas and New Years and finally things have slowed down a bit for the time being. There's really nobody around to meet with externally, half of our staff is on leave, and the country director's power is out so he doesn't have a working computer. That leaves me with some time to dig through November's financial documents and seemingly it gives me some more time to write to Uncle Dave...
The big event of today was that our internet was out so I went to pick up a small porn table USB modem that works off of the cell network. I used to have one and they're great - you can go anywhere with cell service (which is pretty much everywhere that I care to be, other than deep in the bush) and be online. So I've hooked up my personal little mini laptop and I'm back to some aggressive music downloading. Currently, I've got some lite 70's reggae (Toots and the Maytals) and several days worth of Grateful Dead live shows going. Once we get our regular internet back, my personal laptop and portable modem will strictly be a media downloading station so I can refresh my music collection. It's nice that things are uncharacteristically calm this afternoon. I was running around like mad last week covering for my two project managers who were on leave, both with their lady friends as I was signing forms like Aunty Kathy drives - fast and furious! Now one of them is back
Let me tell you about my past year: I was managing a pediatric clinic/child health NGO in a beautiful mountain village near the border of Kenya (in Uganda). I was a member of a great community surrounded by small scale farms, hiking to some extent just about every day, and really enjoying life - working hard, but relaxing as much as possible and enjoying the village. I would host volunteers (about 60 in the year!) from the U.S. primarily. They were all cool and very interesting people; some I really likred and still keep in touch with. With the short term nature, though, it was basically a revolving door of volunteers which came with a lot of challenges. I naturally found myself creating some distance just because of a lot of inherent differences: age, interests, level of integration in the village, etc. Since I stayed in the same house as them for most of the time, I DID have a lot of face time with them, but the part that I really enjoyed was being with the locals.
After my vacation home for three weeks in August, I decided to move in with a local family that I know. They live about an hours walk from my old place so I'd take a motorbike to work and back on most days. They're an amazing family. I went there to spend my Christmas last week and as you saw on my facebook, rode a couple of Suzuki 125s with one of the project managers. It was great to see the family again. They're such a pleasure to be around and so different from most Ugandan families. It's a place I can feel as comfortable as I do at Mom's house. Great conversation, endless entertainment, lots of great hiking, hearty food, warm beer, cute kids and I could go on.... I lived with them for three months before i took my current position, about 6 hours northwest from the old village.
Now, I'm in Gulu town - NGO central in Uganda... There are tons of expats here including UN agencies, USAID, Red Cross, Save the Children, and lots of other NGOs. There's more here in terms of food options compared to my old place, but life here leaves me busier and less integrated with the community. It's a different culture here when it comes to outsiders. Most of us are here with NGOs, live in modern houses, eat "expensive" meals ($3-5), get carted around in actual cars, and generally live different lifestyles from the locals. In my old village, i was eating local food, using a pit latrine instead of a toilet, bucket bathing with murky water, walking through mountain paths, speaking the language a bit.... here, life is different. I knew that when I got into it, but it's proving to be a very true truth.
Generally, I'm really loving life in Africa. The people are laid back (which is as frustrating as it is refreshing but it helps build patience), it seems like laughter is a coping mechanism for all of the hard times they've faced, and in generaly, people are very eager to help themselves. There's an unfortunate sense of dependence where I am now. After living in refugee camps for years, people inherently will start to rely on others for their own livelihoods. That's where we're coming in, trying to offer pepole more sustainable livelihoods by fostering economic activities, building roads, schools, and health centers, teaching agricultural techniques, teaching village banking systems, and things like that. We use all local labour to build the infrastructure to both keep the income local and to get a local sense of ownership in the projects to promote future sustainability. Once we're done with projects, we officially hand them over to the communities to maintain. We also have a monitoring and evaluation unit that goes out to make sure they stay in good condition with time.
Currently, we're begin funded by three UN organizations (UNHCR, UNDP, FAO with a possible WFP project on the way). Also, the Norwegian Embassy is our biggest single donor with a great project focusing on small business development. My job is to oversee all of the operations in 7 districts, three bases/field offices, 65 staff, and a roughly $3 million annual budget. We're considered an "implementing partner" for institutional donors which means somebody at the UN has an idea and we deal with all of the shit associated with the idea - the planning, implementation, community members, suppliers, transporting materials... all of the stuff that can go wrong. It's great - I love the chaos - I love reasoning with confused/angry communities, I love the fact that nothing is ever as it should be. It was frustrating at first that nothing was perfect, but the more I've accepted it, the calmer I've become. I could have an angry mob at my front gates, the generator could be exploding, and the roof could be caving in, and I'd remain relatively calm - especially if I have some good staff around to get me through it.... It puts my arrest warrant in NY State for fishing without a license into perspective :))
Well, off to check some finance documents - those UN auditors can be anal ;)
Hi, Uncle Dave!
I just sat down and quickly checked my emails before I dug into some work. It's 7:30 and I'm about to put together a monthly report for my area that I'm in charge of. My organization builds infrastructure, assists in disaster settings, builds economies, and does a lot of other stuff, too. We're looking to move more into governance next year. It's well recognized that local officials in Africa need help, but it takes a lot of soft skills and is tough to just change - like you can build a school or a road and it's there - but with governance, a whole lot of effort can go into projects that have very little immediate impact and where the long term impact is questionable.
One of my program managers (there are three expat program managers - two Brittish dudes and a Californian) ...anyway, one of them just came into my room to vent about some staff issues he's having. The staff are very challenging to manage, primarily because of their communications skills. They can speak to you eloquently and they're all very nice all the time, but they don't seem to process things in a manner that fosters proactive communication
Okay - now it's 8:15 and I just got off a 15 minute phone conversation about some crazy old man who's making false claims against us for destroying 3 acres of his land by revitalizing a road that was already there. Apparently, the entire community supports us and they're trying to convince him tomorrow to check himself. He just came from Kampala, the capital where he lives and his lawyers sent a letter to my country director telling us they're suing us.
8:16 and I just got a call from my country director asking if the Californian project manager had called me. He's expected in Kampala but hasn't shown up yet. I'm sure he's fine - traveling's a bitch sometimes here.
Now it's two weeks later.... a testament to how busy it gets here! It's the Tuesday between Christmas and New Years and finally things have slowed down a bit for the time being. There's really nobody around to meet with externally, half of our staff is on leave, and the country director's power is out so he doesn't have a working computer. That leaves me with some time to dig through November's financial documents and seemingly it gives me some more time to write to Uncle Dave...
The big event of today was that our internet was out so I went to pick up a small porn table USB modem that works off of the cell network. I used to have one and they're great - you can go anywhere with cell service (which is pretty much everywhere that I care to be, other than deep in the bush) and be online. So I've hooked up my personal little mini laptop and I'm back to some aggressive music downloading. Currently, I've got some lite 70's reggae (Toots and the Maytals) and several days worth of Grateful Dead live shows going. Once we get our regular internet back, my personal laptop and portable modem will strictly be a media downloading station so I can refresh my music collection. It's nice that things are uncharacteristically calm this afternoon. I was running around like mad last week covering for my two project managers who were on leave, both with their lady friends as I was signing forms like Aunty Kathy drives - fast and furious! Now one of them is back
Let me tell you about my past year: I was managing a pediatric clinic/child health NGO in a beautiful mountain village near the border of Kenya (in Uganda). I was a member of a great community surrounded by small scale farms, hiking to some extent just about every day, and really enjoying life - working hard, but relaxing as much as possible and enjoying the village. I would host volunteers (about 60 in the year!) from the U.S. primarily. They were all cool and very interesting people; some I really likred and still keep in touch with. With the short term nature, though, it was basically a revolving door of volunteers which came with a lot of challenges. I naturally found myself creating some distance just because of a lot of inherent differences: age, interests, level of integration in the village, etc. Since I stayed in the same house as them for most of the time, I DID have a lot of face time with them, but the part that I really enjoyed was being with the locals.
After my vacation home for three weeks in August, I decided to move in with a local family that I know. They live about an hours walk from my old place so I'd take a motorbike to work and back on most days. They're an amazing family. I went there to spend my Christmas last week and as you saw on my facebook, rode a couple of Suzuki 125s with one of the project managers. It was great to see the family again. They're such a pleasure to be around and so different from most Ugandan families. It's a place I can feel as comfortable as I do at Mom's house. Great conversation, endless entertainment, lots of great hiking, hearty food, warm beer, cute kids and I could go on.... I lived with them for three months before i took my current position, about 6 hours northwest from the old village.
Now, I'm in Gulu town - NGO central in Uganda... There are tons of expats here including UN agencies, USAID, Red Cross, Save the Children, and lots of other NGOs. There's more here in terms of food options compared to my old place, but life here leaves me busier and less integrated with the community. It's a different culture here when it comes to outsiders. Most of us are here with NGOs, live in modern houses, eat "expensive" meals ($3-5), get carted around in actual cars, and generally live different lifestyles from the locals. In my old village, i was eating local food, using a pit latrine instead of a toilet, bucket bathing with murky water, walking through mountain paths, speaking the language a bit.... here, life is different. I knew that when I got into it, but it's proving to be a very true truth.
Generally, I'm really loving life in Africa. The people are laid back (which is as frustrating as it is refreshing but it helps build patience), it seems like laughter is a coping mechanism for all of the hard times they've faced, and in generaly, people are very eager to help themselves. There's an unfortunate sense of dependence where I am now. After living in refugee camps for years, people inherently will start to rely on others for their own livelihoods. That's where we're coming in, trying to offer pepole more sustainable livelihoods by fostering economic activities, building roads, schools, and health centers, teaching agricultural techniques, teaching village banking systems, and things like that. We use all local labour to build the infrastructure to both keep the income local and to get a local sense of ownership in the projects to promote future sustainability. Once we're done with projects, we officially hand them over to the communities to maintain. We also have a monitoring and evaluation unit that goes out to make sure they stay in good condition with time.
Currently, we're begin funded by three UN organizations (UNHCR, UNDP, FAO with a possible WFP project on the way). Also, the Norwegian Embassy is our biggest single donor with a great project focusing on small business development. My job is to oversee all of the operations in 7 districts, three bases/field offices, 65 staff, and a roughly $3 million annual budget. We're considered an "implementing partner" for institutional donors which means somebody at the UN has an idea and we deal with all of the shit associated with the idea - the planning, implementation, community members, suppliers, transporting materials... all of the stuff that can go wrong. It's great - I love the chaos - I love reasoning with confused/angry communities, I love the fact that nothing is ever as it should be. It was frustrating at first that nothing was perfect, but the more I've accepted it, the calmer I've become. I could have an angry mob at my front gates, the generator could be exploding, and the roof could be caving in, and I'd remain relatively calm - especially if I have some good staff around to get me through it.... It puts my arrest warrant in NY State for fishing without a license into perspective :))
Well, off to check some finance documents - those UN auditors can be anal ;)
Friday, October 9, 2009
Tumwa
The Zaale home continues to entertain. Let me categorize to keep my thoughts clear. Today's category: Tumwa. Tumwa, introduced in a previous entry, just turned 28 on Sept 11. He's about 4'10" with downs syndrome, goes for prayers a few times per day, is seen strolling around Bududa, and knows people everywhere. He's the friggin' man. He's always positive and always a great pleasure to have around. He does his own thing, comes and goes, and my eyes light up every time he comes into the sitting room.
He talks a lot of shit in Lumasabba and will talk shit to the dogs in English, "get back!! - i'll beat you!! - sit down!!" He was going nuts when we first brough the dogs home. He wanted to go for a car ride so he came to pick up the dogs at my old place unknowingly entering close quarters with two animals who were recently accused of being trained killing machines. Tumwa's not a dog lover. He flipped his shit when he realized what we were doing. As the dogs were dealing with the excitement of the car (and Bobby's tendency to get car sick like his dad), Tumwa was jumping up and down screaming in Lumasabba. For the first week, he would put his face up to a small opening in the door yelling at them. It's taken him some time, but now he can fend them off with a stick and yell at them in English with a smile on his face.
c"Ponga" is something that I learned from the kids in Kiholo trading center. It's a fist pound, sometimes followed with a heart pound and then people have various finishing moves. (Mine is kissing my fist as I slowlly blow it up back in the direction of the recipient. My motorcycle buddy Rashid's is causally scratching his nose with his thumb) On Tumwa's birthday, we were "cheering" and Tumwa busted out the "Ponga!". Since then, he's been giving me pongas at an accelerated rate. Instead of a finishing move, we do a simultaneous leg kick at times and he'll sometimes finish it with a grin of satisfaction. Speaking of his birthday, we got all hopped up on cake, soda (him, mom, and the kids) and beers (dad and me). Tumwa put on a neck tie and was dancing his ass off. No power that night, but we had lanterns, a radio, and warm beers. It was one of my most memorable nights since I've been here. Back to the Ponga, he will now repeatedly fist pound me up to 50 consecutive times. Just before I started writing this, He was holding my wrist with one hand and giving me the fist pound with the other hand with both of us repeating "Ponga!" every time.
One day, he was walking back home with a stick, saw some construction guys who are family friends, walked up behind one of the guys, and goosed him in the "backside" with his stick as he was talking shit with a huge smile on his face.
Sometimes he'll rub my leg when we're on the couch. I'll just have my leg up, he'll be infatuated by my caucasian body hair, and start to gently caress my calf.
Last week, I was outside and I heard him in his room clapping his hands and singing loudly and painstakingly energetically and happily. I went in and joined him for a jam session until my hands hurt from clapping, which didn't take long since I was trying to keep up with the loud smacks he was producing. Then we stopped and did a ponga or two, leg kick, satisfying grin and all.
Have I mentioned that he's the friggin man?
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Just Another Saturday...
Woke up, walked with my new brother Desi to the bullfights, in which all of the most proud bull owners in the surrounding sub-counties bring their testosterone-filled animals to butt heads with their peers. They seemingly just pick fights at random in a big field, though there was apparently some organization that I wasn't aware of. Lots of people running and screaming as the bulls took some wild charges in the general direction of the crowds. Good start to the day....
Then a two-hour hike in which I got caught in the rain. Desi told me there was a nice view up a particular "road" so I headed up with the dogs. It was nice and I could see a rain cloud rolling in, but it took me a while to be satisfied. Once I finally found the view I was looking for, I sat under a tree for a little while and it started to rain pretty bad, though I could see it wasn't going to last long. I did the local thing and tore a big-ass banana leaf off of a tree for an umbrella and sat under the tree. The dogs cozied up behind me and we waited it out before heading back. Then we left. With these hills, it didn't take long to slip and fall on my ass. About thirty seconds to be exact. Later on the way home, I passed a truck that was idling in the "road" doing "road" work. Then I realized Jerry was missing. He was scared out of his mind of that truck and was having NO PART of it. I literally had to walk back 100 yards, pick him up, and carry him to the truck. Then I put him down in front of it. He wasn't having it, but I forced him to walk by himself.
Lunch, playing with some of the families' kids, hanging out with mom (Elizabeth, or "mayi") and dad (David, "mzee")another walk, some beers, etc...
Then a two-hour hike in which I got caught in the rain. Desi told me there was a nice view up a particular "road" so I headed up with the dogs. It was nice and I could see a rain cloud rolling in, but it took me a while to be satisfied. Once I finally found the view I was looking for, I sat under a tree for a little while and it started to rain pretty bad, though I could see it wasn't going to last long. I did the local thing and tore a big-ass banana leaf off of a tree for an umbrella and sat under the tree. The dogs cozied up behind me and we waited it out before heading back. Then we left. With these hills, it didn't take long to slip and fall on my ass. About thirty seconds to be exact. Later on the way home, I passed a truck that was idling in the "road" doing "road" work. Then I realized Jerry was missing. He was scared out of his mind of that truck and was having NO PART of it. I literally had to walk back 100 yards, pick him up, and carry him to the truck. Then I put him down in front of it. He wasn't having it, but I forced him to walk by himself.
Lunch, playing with some of the families' kids, hanging out with mom (Elizabeth, or "mayi") and dad (David, "mzee")another walk, some beers, etc...
The Absent Minded Professor
David Zaale (my new Dad) came walking back to the house one afternoon recently back from the village trading center. He was going into Mbale, the closest city (1 1/2 hours away) and I happened to have a guy with a car going back there who could offer him a free, comfortable, fast ride. The only caveat was that he was going to be leaving soon.
"Are you ready now?" I asked
"What do I need? Of course I'm ready!"
.....pause as he looks down at his feet and lifts up the bottom of his pants to expose his bare ankles in his sneakers...
"Though somebody has taken my socks!"
Just one of endless humorous moments at the Zaale home.
Okay, one more -
He wants to add a ceiling to my room and the room next door to make them "executive" (so we don't have to listen to each other's singing and crying all night). That was his idea, by the way -- I still enjoy the entertainment.
So in order to make it "executive", he has his "boys" coming to put in some timbers.... and he plans on using the timbers to finish off his new executive suites with..... cardboard ceilings! Nothin's too good! Luckily, his grown daughter was there to back me up that cardboard is NOT "executive". Turns out the cost would be about the same to put in a normal ceiling so he thanked us for our timely feedback and will be installing a non-cardboard ceiling in his "executive" suites.
one more... We planned on going to church one weekend. We talked about it on several occasions. When Church-thirty rolled around, I said, "are we going to church?" He looked at me, hesitated, and said, "no?". I said "really?" He said "i don't know - no?". I taught him the term rain check. He liked it. Chances are, we followed up with some food, tea, and some beers.
"Are you ready now?" I asked
.....pause as he looks down at his feet and lifts up the bottom of his pants to expose his bare ankles in his sneakers...
"Though somebody has taken my socks!"
Just one of endless humorous moments at the Zaale home.
Okay, one more -
He wants to add a ceiling to my room and the room next door to make them "executive" (so we don't have to listen to each other's singing and crying all night). That was his idea, by the way -- I still enjoy the entertainment.
So in order to make it "executive", he has his "boys" coming to put in some timbers.... and he plans on using the timbers to finish off his new executive suites with..... cardboard ceilings! Nothin's too good! Luckily, his grown daughter was there to back me up that cardboard is NOT "executive". Turns out the cost would be about the same to put in a normal ceiling so he thanked us for our timely feedback and will be installing a non-cardboard ceiling in his "executive" suites.
one more... We planned on going to church one weekend. We talked about it on several occasions. When Church-thirty rolled around, I said, "are we going to church?" He looked at me, hesitated, and said, "no?". I said "really?" He said "i don't know - no?". I taught him the term rain check. He liked it. Chances are, we followed up with some food, tea, and some beers.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Malaria
Bad part: no energy, no appetite, and uncomfortable sweats and chills
Good part: day off of work (other than my monthly report that was overdue) and hang out with Idah, who is now saying "Mikey" non-stop. Also some much needed quality time with the dogs. Also nice to lie down all day.
Good part: day off of work (other than my monthly report that was overdue) and hang out with Idah, who is now saying "Mikey" non-stop. Also some much needed quality time with the dogs. Also nice to lie down all day.
Monday, August 31, 2009
My new life
This was an email that I sent to my friends Shawn and Seema. Then I was like, "blog it". To fill-in, I moved from a volunteer house to a great family whose daughter happened to work in the building that I had classes in my entire undergrad and grad school. Small little world we've got goin' on these days. More about my new place....
Just down a 20' path from their kitchen is a nice little river. It's more secluded in these parts. The dogs have a new friend, Phil "you can call me Siraj" Lesh. He was attacked with a machete some time back, so he's got a crook in his neck. He's also not used to human affection. He likes it, but he doesn't quite get it. Like an awkward 14 year old learning how to make out.
They have an adorable 2-yr old grand daughter that they just rescued from a horribly malnourished state. Now she's laughing her ass off and playing around all day. She's my kind of kid. Sitting on the concrete floor with tons of action, other kids, dogs, hot coals, knives... and she just sits there chill as hell drinking her tea or eating her beans. She's developing motor skills and trying to speak some language that's half Lumasaba and half gobbly-guk. She called me "daddy" like 5 times yesterday. It was ridiculous. I was like "shut the fuck up, kid. who taught you to say that? is this a scam?" Too young and innocent to scam, but it's just easy for kids to say. But damn was it cute. I'm teaching her "Mikey". Whatever, she stays this cute, she's at least earned herself school fees. She just put on shoes for the first time yesterday and she's refusing to take them off. They're white velcro sneakers that are too big for her.
At my new place, I finally have my own room for the first time since I moved to Bududa with a private bathing room (room with a drain so I can bucket bathe). Lantern-lit makes for a great ambiance every night. I just got some $15 speakers for my mp3 player in Kampala so I've got a sweet little setup. They bring me hot boiled water (usually murky) to bathe, which works well with the tunes and lantern. Compare this to a house full of loud white people where I only get a break from them on some weekends. I'm finally in Africa and at peace.
Local food every night. Fresh piri piri peppers (little red hot ones) picked from their garden. Wild mushrooms that don't make you trip, chicken that were running away from my dogs two hours before, and even fish once from the neighbor's fish farm. Milk tea in the morning and milk tea after my evening bath. Not bad
Dad is a retired literature teacher who's stout, jolly, liberal, sharp-witted and lots of other great things. We usually slam a couple of brews every night. I just ponied up for a case. Mom takes in kids like it's her job and she's getting tired, but still keeps a smile on her face. She has a couple of young ladies helping here out who also have their kids around. Cute kids. Lots of 'em coming and going. Their teenage sons are really cool, too. Desi brings us beer and fresh chili pepper branches, so who can argue with that? John asked if wrestling was real and told me I take "mexican showers". I was like "how the hell do you know that phrase?" He was like "I don't get it. I've heard it before. Why do they say that?" I explained as nicely as possible.
I must add that I have my own room - yes - but ceiling? no. the other room in this building has a bunch of kids sleeping in there, led by Tumwa, my twenty-five year old Mugisu brother with down syndrome. There's NO audio privacy. Singing and chattering away in Lumasabba last thing at night and first thing in the morning. Late nights are usually quiet with an occasional baby crying or Tumwa yelling "MIKE! MIKE! How are you?" It hasn't gotten old YET, but I've only been here a few weeks. They're actually good alarm clocks along with the roosters.
The new place is about a ten minute motorcycle ride away from my old place on a dry, sunny road and a close to impassable 30-minute ride on a wet dark road. It's the rainy season, so the former doesn't really happen. The roads are being re-"dirted" and the rains are heavy so it's literally been like a swamp some days. The motorcycle drivers are being good sports, sometimes barefoot with their pants rolled up to their knees, laughing their asses off. Not a maniacal laugh, but just fun. Last week, I found myself up on a mountain to avoid the road - on a footpath on a motorcycle at night with no headlight, but a blinker sporadically and dimly lighting the way down the muddy path in between the fields. That one was the craziest. I go home before dark now and use matatus when they're around and going down the swamp segment.
The people of Kiholo (the old village) have been ridiculously supportive of me coming back with a few house offers coming every day. It's heartwarming, but it's starting to be too many offers. I'm going to stop actually looking at the places. Those who aren't offering up their houses are certainly in my grill about coming back, too. Even with their support, and despite the transportation challenges, I'm loving my Zaale family that I'm with now.
Need to bathe... It was nice to write about my new life. I don't know if my old living situation wasn't worth writing about or if it didn't permit me the time... How about having a sweet netbook with a 4-hour battery and google offline with an easily portable modem in the village?
This was to you guys, but I definitely need to put this on my blog. Thanks for giving me a reason to write it out
Selassie know
Just down a 20' path from their kitchen is a nice little river. It's more secluded in these parts. The dogs have a new friend, Phil "you can call me Siraj" Lesh. He was attacked with a machete some time back, so he's got a crook in his neck. He's also not used to human affection. He likes it, but he doesn't quite get it. Like an awkward 14 year old learning how to make out.
They have an adorable 2-yr old grand daughter that they just rescued from a horribly malnourished state. Now she's laughing her ass off and playing around all day. She's my kind of kid. Sitting on the concrete floor with tons of action, other kids, dogs, hot coals, knives... and she just sits there chill as hell drinking her tea or eating her beans. She's developing motor skills and trying to speak some language that's half Lumasaba and half gobbly-guk. She called me "daddy" like 5 times yesterday. It was ridiculous. I was like "shut the fuck up, kid. who taught you to say that? is this a scam?" Too young and innocent to scam, but it's just easy for kids to say. But damn was it cute. I'm teaching her "Mikey". Whatever, she stays this cute, she's at least earned herself school fees. She just put on shoes for the first time yesterday and she's refusing to take them off. They're white velcro sneakers that are too big for her.
At my new place, I finally have my own room for the first time since I moved to Bududa with a private bathing room (room with a drain so I can bucket bathe). Lantern-lit makes for a great ambiance every night. I just got some $15 speakers for my mp3 player in Kampala so I've got a sweet little setup. They bring me hot boiled water (usually murky) to bathe, which works well with the tunes and lantern. Compare this to a house full of loud white people where I only get a break from them on some weekends. I'm finally in Africa and at peace.
Local food every night. Fresh piri piri peppers (little red hot ones) picked from their garden. Wild mushrooms that don't make you trip, chicken that were running away from my dogs two hours before, and even fish once from the neighbor's fish farm. Milk tea in the morning and milk tea after my evening bath. Not bad
Dad is a retired literature teacher who's stout, jolly, liberal, sharp-witted and lots of other great things. We usually slam a couple of brews every night. I just ponied up for a case. Mom takes in kids like it's her job and she's getting tired, but still keeps a smile on her face. She has a couple of young ladies helping here out who also have their kids around. Cute kids. Lots of 'em coming and going. Their teenage sons are really cool, too. Desi brings us beer and fresh chili pepper branches, so who can argue with that? John asked if wrestling was real and told me I take "mexican showers". I was like "how the hell do you know that phrase?" He was like "I don't get it. I've heard it before. Why do they say that?" I explained as nicely as possible.
I must add that I have my own room - yes - but ceiling? no. the other room in this building has a bunch of kids sleeping in there, led by Tumwa, my twenty-five year old Mugisu brother with down syndrome. There's NO audio privacy. Singing and chattering away in Lumasabba last thing at night and first thing in the morning. Late nights are usually quiet with an occasional baby crying or Tumwa yelling "MIKE! MIKE! How are you?" It hasn't gotten old YET, but I've only been here a few weeks. They're actually good alarm clocks along with the roosters.
The new place is about a ten minute motorcycle ride away from my old place on a dry, sunny road and a close to impassable 30-minute ride on a wet dark road. It's the rainy season, so the former doesn't really happen. The roads are being re-"dirted" and the rains are heavy so it's literally been like a swamp some days. The motorcycle drivers are being good sports, sometimes barefoot with their pants rolled up to their knees, laughing their asses off. Not a maniacal laugh, but just fun. Last week, I found myself up on a mountain to avoid the road - on a footpath on a motorcycle at night with no headlight, but a blinker sporadically and dimly lighting the way down the muddy path in between the fields. That one was the craziest. I go home before dark now and use matatus when they're around and going down the swamp segment.
The people of Kiholo (the old village) have been ridiculously supportive of me coming back with a few house offers coming every day. It's heartwarming, but it's starting to be too many offers. I'm going to stop actually looking at the places. Those who aren't offering up their houses are certainly in my grill about coming back, too. Even with their support, and despite the transportation challenges, I'm loving my Zaale family that I'm with now.
Need to bathe... It was nice to write about my new life. I don't know if my old living situation wasn't worth writing about or if it didn't permit me the time... How about having a sweet netbook with a 4-hour battery and google offline with an easily portable modem in the village?
This was to you guys, but I definitely need to put this on my blog. Thanks for giving me a reason to write it out
Selassie know
Monday, June 29, 2009
Disclaimer
20 volunteers in the past month, a new health outreach team (HOT) consisting of 15 newly trained community health educators (CHEs).... or the HOT CHEs, one partner organization, two interns, two dogs, one bruised rib, 8 staff members, 1,400 patients per month, 40 families in a research study, one district health office, and a nagging cough that I'm hoping isn't tuberculosis. Talk soon!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Health Administrator Mike
When the kids at school started greeting me “teacher” Mike or “doctor” Mike, I quickly spread word around to the more adept students that the proper label would be “health administrator” Mike. Not as pretty sounding, but far more accurate. So…. what exactly does a health administrator do in a village like Busongi in a district like Bududa in a country like Uganda? Well…
When the generator starts smoking after an otherwise infamously lazy employee suddenly got motivated to change the oil unsupervised: it’s the health administrator’s problem
When we run out of prescription envelopes but nobody mentions a damn thing until the absolute last envelope is used: it’s the health administrator’s problem
When the Babylon shows up to arrest the drug dispenser…
When the inverter blows through fuses like the diceman does buttskis…
It’s the health administrator’s problem.
When we run out of water from weeks without rain shower…
or stuck in Kampala traffic when volunteers land in an hour.
When the pit latrine has a leak…
or the path to the clinic turns into a creek.
When registering as an NGO turns into five months of frustrating bore…
especially when we haven’t paid taxes since we opened our door.
When visitors get harassed by the town crazy…
When employees are lazy…
When the staff drama mama finds new material…
When plain oats are the only cereal…
When bad carpenters pout…
When baby patients scream and shout…
When there’s no close place to get a CD4 count…
When some old lady gets the gout…
When the drugs run out…
In the face of constant doubt...
It pays shit, but I get to bring my dogs to work and I wear what I want.
Disclaimer
I haven't abandoned writing. It's just.... internet access, prioritization, and the like. It's not because Cynthia found my blog. Hi, Cynthia. The dogs say hi. They're getting big.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Pete and the ol' ladies
The end of an era is upon us… Three major forces in my life for the month of February were a 7 foot 32 yr old doctor from Michigan and two retired teachers from Virginia and Maine.
Pete was one class shy of completing med school when he got here. His last class was his time spent here, so he left as a med school grad, awaiting his residency assignment. He’s served in Cameroon in the Peace Corps, ran a hotel in Mozambique, and worked at an HIV clinic in Zambia. He’s crass and direct, but educated and well-traveled enough to get away with it. His view on development: “Sure, roads are good for an economy but more roads means more truckers. More truckers – more hookers – more hookers -- more AIDS. I’ve seen it with my own eyes in Botswana.” He’s about to start another two months on the continent before he leaves in May from Zambia.
Catherine and Cynthia taught together at in Virginia at the Arlington Public Schools for years before they both retired about five years ago. Cynthia is one of the driving forces behind our partner school, Arlington Academy of Hope. She was the head mistress (principal) for six months a few years back and has become quite the veteran of the village. Catherine has had a strong influence on the project too but prefers to dodge any and all attention that comes along with it. While Cynthia generally accepts invitations to church or tea or whatever else might come up, Catherine generally will slip away and relax with a book. Now that Catherine’s retired to New England, I give her shit any time I have the opportunity. She gives it right back and we have a good time. Over all, they’re both bitchin’ broads.
Pete left on the rest of his trip this past week. Catherine and Cynthia leave on Friday of this week. Allow me to recollect some moments from this particular era… and keepin mind that most Pete quotes are un-publishable.
On a Friday afternoon, Pete and I got caught in a national geographic moment at a circumcision dance ceremony, entering with a low-speed motorcycle crash and exiting with a high-speed Indiana Jones style escape from a mob of village children that weaved through a local drinking district where the elders temporarily held off the kids with threats of beatings. Quote from Pete, “Don’t ya love it when Nat Geo moments turn into bad acid trips?” We went back to Kiholo and drank off the emotional impact. We came home pretty deep in the bag and told the tale to Catherine and Cynthia. They were amused.
On a Sunday morning, I got a call from a woman who runs an NGO in our district. Short version: possible dead baby in a 7-month pregnant woman. Bududa Hospital was open, but their stethoscope was locked up. Publishable quote of the day was Pete, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this day ends up in me delivering a dead baby”. Un-publishable quote of the day was with regards to the “natural” method of inducing labor. Due to the unavailability of goods and services in Bududa District, labor induction was best done elsewhere so we referred her to Mbale (the city). Catherine and Cynthia were concerned, but amused.
When I got a cut on my foot, it infected pretty quickly. Dr. Pete’s diagnosis: “You know those piles of cow shit all over the road? Well those turn into dust and that dust that gets into your cut is largely cow shit.” It’s still healing slowly but surely. I might have my first Africa scar.
One day when I was heading back from the clinic, I got a text message from Pete: “The old ladies are making me go get beer. What are you doing?” We had cold beer for about 25% of the time he was here. Sometimes there’s no electricity. Sometimes there’s no beer. Sometimes the guys at the beer/chicken feed stand forget to put beer in the fridge. Just about every day with Pete ended up with a cold beer search. Catherine and Cynthia were always happy when we brought some home.
My last day in Kampala with Pete turned into a bar crawl in which we were exposed to an array of American easy listening music which seems to be the music of choice during daylight hours in Kampala. The top easy listening moment had to be when we were in Kampala’s version of Target (where all the white people shop) and Toto’s ‘80s hit “Africa” was playing. Classic. That night, we went out to a killer pork and beer joint. Since Pete has been in Kampala, I’ve been getting daily texts either asking about pork or telling me about pork. Last night he was at a place called “pork talk”. The man’s on a mission.
Pete was one class shy of completing med school when he got here. His last class was his time spent here, so he left as a med school grad, awaiting his residency assignment. He’s served in Cameroon in the Peace Corps, ran a hotel in Mozambique, and worked at an HIV clinic in Zambia. He’s crass and direct, but educated and well-traveled enough to get away with it. His view on development: “Sure, roads are good for an economy but more roads means more truckers. More truckers – more hookers – more hookers -- more AIDS. I’ve seen it with my own eyes in Botswana.” He’s about to start another two months on the continent before he leaves in May from Zambia.
Catherine and Cynthia taught together at in Virginia at the Arlington Public Schools for years before they both retired about five years ago. Cynthia is one of the driving forces behind our partner school, Arlington Academy of Hope. She was the head mistress (principal) for six months a few years back and has become quite the veteran of the village. Catherine has had a strong influence on the project too but prefers to dodge any and all attention that comes along with it. While Cynthia generally accepts invitations to church or tea or whatever else might come up, Catherine generally will slip away and relax with a book. Now that Catherine’s retired to New England, I give her shit any time I have the opportunity. She gives it right back and we have a good time. Over all, they’re both bitchin’ broads.
Pete left on the rest of his trip this past week. Catherine and Cynthia leave on Friday of this week. Allow me to recollect some moments from this particular era… and keepin mind that most Pete quotes are un-publishable.
On a Friday afternoon, Pete and I got caught in a national geographic moment at a circumcision dance ceremony, entering with a low-speed motorcycle crash and exiting with a high-speed Indiana Jones style escape from a mob of village children that weaved through a local drinking district where the elders temporarily held off the kids with threats of beatings. Quote from Pete, “Don’t ya love it when Nat Geo moments turn into bad acid trips?” We went back to Kiholo and drank off the emotional impact. We came home pretty deep in the bag and told the tale to Catherine and Cynthia. They were amused.
On a Sunday morning, I got a call from a woman who runs an NGO in our district. Short version: possible dead baby in a 7-month pregnant woman. Bududa Hospital was open, but their stethoscope was locked up. Publishable quote of the day was Pete, “I wouldn’t be surprised if this day ends up in me delivering a dead baby”. Un-publishable quote of the day was with regards to the “natural” method of inducing labor. Due to the unavailability of goods and services in Bududa District, labor induction was best done elsewhere so we referred her to Mbale (the city). Catherine and Cynthia were concerned, but amused.
When I got a cut on my foot, it infected pretty quickly. Dr. Pete’s diagnosis: “You know those piles of cow shit all over the road? Well those turn into dust and that dust that gets into your cut is largely cow shit.” It’s still healing slowly but surely. I might have my first Africa scar.
One day when I was heading back from the clinic, I got a text message from Pete: “The old ladies are making me go get beer. What are you doing?” We had cold beer for about 25% of the time he was here. Sometimes there’s no electricity. Sometimes there’s no beer. Sometimes the guys at the beer/chicken feed stand forget to put beer in the fridge. Just about every day with Pete ended up with a cold beer search. Catherine and Cynthia were always happy when we brought some home.
My last day in Kampala with Pete turned into a bar crawl in which we were exposed to an array of American easy listening music which seems to be the music of choice during daylight hours in Kampala. The top easy listening moment had to be when we were in Kampala’s version of Target (where all the white people shop) and Toto’s ‘80s hit “Africa” was playing. Classic. That night, we went out to a killer pork and beer joint. Since Pete has been in Kampala, I’ve been getting daily texts either asking about pork or telling me about pork. Last night he was at a place called “pork talk”. The man’s on a mission.
The Crazy, the Funny, the Cool, the Weird, and the Diet Shasta
I feel like crazy, funny, cool, weird stuff happens throughout the day, EVERY day. It’s to a point where I don’t identify things as blog entry material until somebody else points out how crazy, cool, funny, or weird something is. This is my attempt at identifying the crazy, the funny, the cool, and the weird without giving much detail on any of it.
Crazy stories include bulls trampling dogs, chasing down a matatu (public minibus) on a motorcycle because I left a box of meds in it, inverters bursting into smoke, cock fights, women in labor in the trading center on market day, my friend Ruth getting a drive-by bag-snatch in Kampala, getting caught with a 7 foot white guy in the middle of a drunken, sweaty circumcision ritual, cow heads cut off in public, penis heads cut off in public, having newly circumcised penises shown to me proudly on the streets, old ladies shaking their saaaggy tits, motorcycle rides that literally get people kicked out of Peace Corps, rashes, wounds, extreme malnourishment, skinny-ass babies suffering from AIDS, dirty-ass hospitals, dude attempting to scream in agony as his horribly wounded body was bussed to Kampala (his screams weren’t too loud due to a severely injured trachea), unexpected animals in the house, unexpected problems in the clinic, expected problems in the clinic, expected public transport discomfort, sharing public transport with live and dead animals, termite battles, dealings with the police, orally siphoning kerosene only to be outdone by a mechanic who drinks gasoline and the list goes on….
Most of the funny stuff is funny to ME and is primarily situational humor. Dealing with some cultural norms feels ridiculous sometimes (10 minute mud hut visits turning into unexpected 2 hour hang out sessions including meals and tea afterwards – and the hosts often don’t enter the room unless it’s to bring something which leads to a lot of staring at mud walls and funky wall hangings). Saying the same thing to every single person (“Hello, Welcome back! How is there? Well done, what’s new! How’s home? Well done again!” seems to be the conversation with everybody – people are endlessly impressed that I can memorize eight friggin phrases in almost five months). Families with uniquely funny kids that I couldn’t do justice explaining the humor in - throw dogs into the mix and a find a common and entertaining result: makin’ kids cry! Some of them cry because I’m clearly not from around there, but most kids that I see every day have passed that stage. The dogs, though… the closer I get and the younger the kid, the higher the odds… it sounds cruel, but I’m just slowly acclimating the kids to their new neighbors. Keep in mind that we cure sick kids all day at the clinic and lay off! Once the tears start, Mom’s laugh, brothers laugh, sisters laugh, dad’s laugh, I laugh, passer-bys laugh… the only ones that are usually NOT laughing are the poor damn kids that I torture. So that’s the funny stuff.
The cool stuff includes people, natural surroundings, and events that may overlap with crazy. The people are endlessly kind but like every population has its mix of personality. I have special handshakes with a good dozen or more people so I do a lot of crazy hand-slappin’ fist pumpin, hand-grabbin, jive-jammin greetings. The natural surroundings make the uphill climbs totally worth it and the views vary from endless rolling bright green mountains with blue skies to cloud-covered dark green volcanic mountains with the sun behind the clouds. Cool events that don’t overlap with the crazy ones are probably the most common nicety of living here. Every interaction can turn into a “moment”. Some interactions can be frustrating, but there are enough “moments” to turn a frustrating day right. That goes for life at home too, but the frustrating here seems to be more frustrating, making the “moments” more appreciated.
Weird stuff? Weird stuff is probably the part that I’m noticing less and less. Just before I started writing this, I was on my knees under a faucet bathing. Bathing in general… very weird. I’ve never been big on hygiene, but I end up very itchy if I slack here. Weird animal parts lying in the street, weird bones lying around in fields, weird people, weird customs, weird phrases, weird ways defecating, and weird ways of doing most things. It’s weird that I can’t get a turkey club or use a refrigerator.
Am I missing home? Yes – I miss the people, the nature, the food, the comforts, and the conveniences. Today after the generator repair man caused my inverter to go up in smoke, the latest in a frustrating series of power adventures, I took a deep breath and sat to read a series of banter between some good friends from home that included the following words and phrases:
“freakin lance bass over here”
“ass clown”
“sad sack”
“over-zealous light weight who tries to shotgun a beer only to puke in his hat”
“mark-ass marks, trick-ass marks, punk bitches, skip skaps, skanks and scallywags”
“monster truck”
“Bigfoot”
“drinking games”
“
“getting into a fight and knocking over our brand new condiment cart”
“I ride with the seat so far back so the po-po can't profile me. The door frame serves the dual purpose of hiding my face and protecting my dome piece if some fool tries to blast on my vehicle.”
“go back to your cube and read a Dilbert comic”
“
“classless Yankees”
“fat cat Yankees”
“A-Fraud”
“Gank Meat roster”
“The Rankmeat Years”
“spank meats
“I'm not a Yankee fan anymore”
“fair-weather yankee fan”
“yankee penant and foam finger”
“Derek Jeter is gay”
“Jorge Posada is a little bitch”
“the Hive tower which unleashes a wave of vicious bees that swarm your enemies”
“I need seven rainbows to unlock the second half of the first level and I only have three right now.”
“tribal leader with a flock of young ones who remain at your base”
“my girlfriend's therapist is talking a lot of shit about me in their weekly session and how I wouldn't be a good father”
“get a life you *#$@ sad sack. oh wait, you do have a life, eating sunchips, drinking diet shastas and thinking up funny sayings for snapple tops and packs of taco bell fire sauce”
It made my day.
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