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...
Saturday, September 5, 2009
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.
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