Moving On

It's side war
from sidewalks to billboards and stores
tellin' all poor people that the world is yours
but this money is ours
you can get a little back
you start puttin' in hours
you can widen the gap
but you can see it in the towers
standing next to the squatters
who be wandering the city in search of a job offer
the first generation in the U S of A
to get paid less wage the ones who came before
the wicked waged war in a desert terrain
24 short bars couldn't measure the pain
so now I greet the neighbor daily
he's on his porch smokin' overhead thunderclouds
movin' slow motion
came across an ocean in hope of some better days
expatriated citizens of third world decay
where children translate for their parents sake
in a landscape where the workin' class can't escape
these languages twisted
tongues get unraveled
can't understand each other in this modern day babel
now we tryin' to get a piece of what the city broke down
barely claiming families but put the claim to town
recognize it's serious but ain't afraid to clown
trained for confrontation
there's no other way around
these sacred ground desecrators
they try to decimate us...
it's gonna take more than just rain to change this

-Blue Scholars, "Bayani"

I've started about a half dozen blogs since my last couple, never quite finishing them. Tom Perry (http://ublog.union.edu/perryt) and Monica Rowett (http://ublog.union.edu/rowettm) have taken over as the Minerva Fellows in the place of Becky and I. I have spent a lot of time doing web updates for Engeye (http://engeye.org) and have tried to be useful to the organization based on my experience there over the last year.

Next Steps

It's now crunch time with moving to Seattle. I fly out Saturday at 8AM and it will no doubt be a late night Friday saying my last goodbyes in Buffalo, NY. Unless I can get home for Thanksgiving I am on track to miss my third straight Autumn in New York (Australia, Uganda, now Seattle), though Seattle should have similarly cold, depressing weather that I have come to love.

In Seattle, I will be in the Department of Atmospheric Sciences doing something related to climate physics. Actually, I hope to tie in climate modeling, human impacts of climate change, and policy implications. That's a lot to work on. University of Washington is a trimester school like Union and I start off with four graduate level classes in a brand new place, though I am lucky to have Nathali Neal (Ozone House co-founder) and a couple other acquaintances out there helping me get going. Maybe even some visits from friends looking to explore the west coast.

Shock

Everyone asks me about the "culture shock" of being back in the US. I don't think I was shocked to be back in the US as much as I was calmly reflective. I do vividly remember looking up at a jet sliding across the sky, looking down at the perfectly manicured medium, driving on I-95 or maybe I-495 out of Boston and thinking that we are lucky to have all that we have as I drove away from Boston Logan Airport and my physical presence in Uganda. When I eat ice cream I am saddened to think that most of the kids I knew in Uganda will never have that experience in the same comfortable context, if at all. They will never go to the beach and lounge; most will never make it out of their village. These thoughts can hit fairly hard. They don't have these luxuries like this - they don't even have basic health care. I get worked up about the inadequacies of our government, our health care, our own failures as a society, but the contrast between our problems and problems in one of the least developed countries in the world is pretty distinct. It is often tough for me to understand and consider, because I don't know exactly how we are affecting the situation. I see that we are so much better off and that Ugandans are so much worse off and it is very unsettling, but it is tough to understand that relationship. It's one of those ridiculous things - a high rise with homeless people in the shadows; drinking coffee in a fancy coffee shop from someone that makes a dollar a day; someone receiving cosmetic surgery while another person dies of malaria. The people in the shadows must just not work hard.

But they do work hard. This is what I have been trying to wrap my mind around. There's no easy way to write about it, because it is tough to understand. There's a lot of ins and outs, aid money use and abuse and shortcomings, US weapons to East Africa, AIDS, globalization, WTO and World Bank monetary policies, US agricultural subsidies, Ugandan corruption, corporate corruption, environmental degradation, geography, ecology, natural resources, climate change, communications, education, etc. all play a role in this shadow cast over the impoverished.

For Now

So for now, I will probably randomly update this blog with thoughts and updates from my new home. Probably will put up interesting information from my grad school work. Interesting information from Seattle.

I miss Uganda very much and I miss my friends at Union very much. I miss the places, too. Walking the streets around the campus, the quiet deserted summer campus, the basement where I worked for two years on "scintillation" and "accelerator physics." I miss the dusty roads in Uganda and the constant presence of children. I miss the rainy season and the intolerable taxi rides to Masaka.

Not sure where the road takes me from here. Maybe back to Africa. Maybe the Antarctic. Maybe Australia. Maybe a basement in Seattle with really big computers and a bug-eyed computer programmer.

Feel free to shoot me an e-mail if you have more questions about Uganda (how this blog initially started) or for most of you, my friends who kept tabs on me during my travels (thank you) please feel free to keep this bookmarked and please keep in touch.

Subsistence Farmers in East Africa

Sorry I have been MIA lately. I have been meaning to write several blogs and update the photos...

This video is one of the best summaries of the subsistence farming and environmental degradation problems in Africa. It isn't an option - these people need to adopt poor practices to survive.

Howard Buffet's Crusade Against African Famine

More soon...

The Earth is a Satellite of the Moon

Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty

Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty

Apollo 4 cost more than Apollo 3
Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty

Apollo 8 cost a fortune, but no one minded
because the astronauts were Protestant
they read the Bible from the moon
astounding and delighting every Christian
and on their return Pope Paul VI gave them his blessing.

Apollo 9 cost more than all these put together
including Apollo 1 which cost plenty.

The great-grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the grandparents.
The great-grandparents died of hunger.
The grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the parents.
The grandparents died of hunger.
The parents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the children of the people there.
The parents died of hunger.
The people of Acahualinca are less hungry then the children
of the people there.
The children of the people of Acahaulinca, because of hunger,
are not born
they hunger to be born, only to die of hunger.
Blessed are the poor for they shall inherit the moon.

---Leonel Rugama
translation: Sara Miles, Richard Schaaf & Nancy Weisberg
from: Poetry Like Bread, Curbstone Press, 1994

A Little Bit of Ddegeya

So I made a video for my class tomorrow to try to give people a slightly better sense of Ddegeya. I started this video today so it isn't perfect, but it works and conveys some of the issues Ddegeya is facing along with some of the humor of working with kids. There are a couple pieces that bother me - I accidentally had a photo effect on the photo of Steph, the clinic founder, which bothers me to no end. I will get a better video with more appropriate music up at some point.



or

A Village Called Ddegeya

On Campus, Ways to Help, and How to Hear More

I am now on Union's campus...Union and the Minerva Fellows Program is putting us to work - here is a list of lectures, events, or presentations I'll be involved with in one way or another (if you are interested, send me an e-mail - many are open to the campus, others I may have to get permission from the instructor or the sponsoring group):

Monday May 11 4:00 PM - Minerva Fellows Panel Discussion in the Nott

Monday May 11 5:30 PM - Panel Discussion after party

Thursday May 14 5:30 PM - Ugandan Dinner and Discussion with Becky and I

Monday May 18 1:50 PM - Comparative Economics Class (Professor Dvorak has invited fellows to this class, which tests various theories on what factors affect poverty)

Monday May 18 6:00 PM - Ugandan Dinner ($5 suggested donation)

Tuesday May 19 9:00 AM - Social Entrepreneurship Class: Health, Poverty, and the Environment (I will be the speaker for this class).

Wednesday May 20 12:50 PM - Child Labor vs. Education: Perceptions From The Field a discussion for an independent study class

Thursday May 21 1:55 PM - Using Physics for Humanity (for an introductory physics class)

Thursday May 21 6:30 PM - Film: Last King of Scotland and Bombers Burritos

Friday May 22 7:00 PM - John Welcome to US Extravaganza (in Albany)

Monday May 25 3:05 PM - Comparing Health Systems Class - Dave Shulman (PIH, Malawi) and Becky and I will be available to discuss health systems (from our perspective) in Malawi and Uganda

Tuesday May 26 1:55 PM - Senior Scholars Seminar - A class for seniors in the Union Scholars program, Robbie Flick (Cambodia) and I will discuss an interesting, current topic (and reading) based on our experience (topic yet to be decided)

Wednesday May 27 10:45 AM - "Environmental Issues in Uganda" for an introductory environmental sciences class.

Wednesday May 27 5:30 PM - Engeye Dinner Fundraiser - This dinner will benefit Engeye Health and feature Dr. Robert Paeglow ("Dr. Bob"), an incredibly inspiring doctor who has been involved with Engeye Health over the years and has a practice in Albany, NY.

Friday May 29 7PM - Minerva Fellows Panel Discussion in the Nott (Alumni Weekend)

Saturday May 30 2PM - "Pick up for Uganda BBQ" - should have live music, BBQ, volleyball, snow cones and other fun

Thursday June 4 5:30PM - Uganda Presentation, Dinner, and Silent Auction - Nikhil Kothari (volunteered in Kampala, Uganda), Becky and myself will present photos and background on Uganda and our work within the country, which will lead into a dinner and discussion. Photos will be displayed for a silent auction to benefit Engeye Health.

Friday June 5 - Environmental Economics - I will present on issues involving environmental economics and Uganda. For example, Nakivubu Swamp Environmental Assessment; Climate Change Impacts and Causes; Food Supply; Urban Air Pollution; GDP and Economic Impact Curve; Population; Impacts on Forests; Impacts on Wetlands; Role of Business (ie Coke, Hydroelectric, and Swamplands); etc.

One of the reasons we are doing all these events is to help generate awareness or provide information for those interested in health, poverty, NGOs, Uganda, etc. Becky and I are also trying to help raise funds for Engeye, the health care organization we were based out of.

Engeye provides scholarships to impoverished kids to attend the best local schools and provides affordable health care to the surrounding villages. Villagers come from far and wide to utilize Engeye's services; services that were not available just a few short years ago. For example, malaria, which kills one million people per year is a highly treatable disease that no one needs to die from. Engeye provides all services - checkup, diagnosis, and treatment (drugs) for 3000 Ugandan shillings ($1.33). Malaria costs roughly 7000 - 10,000 shillings to treat ($3.11 - $4.44). Without Engeye's subsidized, compassionate health care many people would suffer and could potentially die from simply treated ailments.

If you would like to make a donation please visit Engeye's website for more information or send me an e-mail at pochedls@union.edu. I will also be selling prints of some of my photos and giving all proceeds to Engeye - if you are interested in helping and getting some great prints, please send me an e-mail. Last, I carried home about 30 baskets made by the woman of Ddegeya - if you are interested in purchasing a handmade, beautiful basket, which supports the woman of the village, please send me an e-mail.

Like I said, it costs a couple dollars to treat malaria, UTI, RTI, pneumonia, and other common infections. With your help, kids in this region can benefit from reasonable health care and we can begin to address shortfalls in the UN's Universal Primary Education. If you can help in other ways, let me know!

Photos...A lot

Or you can view online at Picasa

A couple more to come this week...(May 10 today)

Admissions

I compiled a list of things that I never blogged about because I was worried that my e-mail inbox would be clogged with worried e-mails from my mom.

I got malaria. It is not nearly as bad as people think. During that time I spent a lot of time looking at Where There is No Doctor and Dengue, Malaria, Yellow Fever, Schistosomiasis, and a host of other diseases are highly treatable. No sweat. Unpleasant, yes? Worth considering when deciding about going to some third world country that you may or may not be able to point to on a map? No. Ebola, on the other hand, is deadly. So is rabies (once you show symptoms).

Speaking of rabies. A bat flew into me one night! Didn't bite though...

A rat crawled into my bed. The first time it happened it could have been a mouse. The second time it could have been a house cat. The first time John bought rat poison. The second time was a battle, a test of my own capacity to outsmart a rodent. After three hours (1:30 AM - 4:30 AM) I tricked it into going outside. Becky helped. At the end of the struggle.

The resident gecko in the latrine fell on me twice in the last month. Strange?

Final chigger count was ~7. Beat that Tom.

I was pick-pocketed in Kampala.

Diarrhea goes with the territory.

So my plane should be landing right now. But now I am going into hiding with family for the next week...

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth
and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

-T.S. Eliot - "The Journey of Magi" excerpted from Santiago's Children

Trends in Uganda

Speaks for itself and is much better without a caption. Click to enlarge.

Light Blog: Sorting Beans

"I hate when I eat a rock."

Normally, that would be a stupid comment, but it happens. I spent an hour this morning "sorting beans" which means going through a kilo or so of beans for the next couple of meals. We examine each bean individually, checking for discoloration, warping, or weevil holes. This morning I looked at 2,880 (+/- 2 percent) beans, which means that my sort speed is about 48 beans per minute. That isn't bad, Susan is probably double that speed. Sort speed is important and requires incredible dexterity, but more important is sort accuracy. I have an untarnished record of zero rocks per sort. It turns out that about 3 percent of the beans are DENIED, which is a little alarming because 3 percent is enough make a batch of beans taste really bad, but if you are too lax in the sort it also means that there are few enough that some could make it through. One bean with a weevil hole means a day of vomiting. Actually, we don't know why it matters - we just know that Susan takes those beans out. We really don't care, but then again, we've also gotten used to little animals crawling into our toes, growing into a large itchy growths, laying egg sacks, and then dying.

I don't know which is more disgusting: me for having small animals crawl into my feet or the chigger for being willing to crawl into my absolutely grotesque feet. Becky and I have definitely changed our standards. I think I took a shower, outside of camping, every day of my adult life. No exceptions. Every day. I have to push myself to pour that cold water down my back. Clean has taken on a new meaning - Becky would not allow her parents to be anywhere near her when she did the dishes - and that is probably for the best. Laundry gets one cycle with the soap and one cycle with the "clean" rinse water. That is all. I'm a busy man.

I've had several "sorting" type jobs that require speed and accuracy and I think that I was in some way destined for mindless, repetitive manual labor. I'm just so goddamned good at it. One of my jobs was sorting packages for UPS. The supervisors job was to watch you move heavy things for hours on end from 3AM to 9AM and occasionally calculate how fast you move heavy object A to crate X. I also helped deliver packages, where "stops per hour" was the key criterion. I also had a three year stint in the coffee business as a low level employee at Tim Horton's. I eventually made it up to the respectable position of weekend donut baker (and then later as weekend muffin baker - very different in prestige and skill level). In that job the criteria was more advanced - not only muffins per hour, but also muffins wasted per hour - they throw out the muffins that are too old or give them to employees so the baker needed to make enough, but not too much.

I feel like my next job is going to have more goals than the simple benchmark of variable per hour. Until that time, I enjoy sorting beans.

On the Nature of...This Work

I have written eleven blogs having some variation of the word "March" and "blog" in the filename. "March.rtf", "March_Final.rtf", "midmarchblog.rtf", "MARCHBLOG.rtf", etc. trying to get the words right about some aspect of Uganda, Ddegeya, or my time here. A lot of different topics, none at the right meter. Part of this might be that I'm going to crash into the United States in 25 days and I'm beginning to hold some of this for myself (typical, Steve) and part might be that the things that I am writing about - the daily grind and its implications - is becoming so normal that I no longer find it noteworthy. It's boring.

The kind of work Robbie and Jon are doing in Cambodia, Lara in South Africa, Alex in India, Dave in Malawi, and Becky and I are doing in Uganda is sort of different from what most Union graduates will have the opportunity to experience. The work involves immersion in a different culture, language, place, pace and requires a little bit of creativity in how to get things done without the resources we have come to take for granted. I am starting this blog to comment on that. Now that it is finished, I don't think it's hit the mark exactly, but close enough. But first, a timeline:

April 7: Becky and I head to Kampala to say goodbye to Hagar
April 8: Hagar jets, literally, after about 7 months of service to Engeye, Uganda Cares, and some other organizations (did you know one intercontinental flight for one passenger is the equivalent of driving an SUV for a year? Vroom.)
April 10: Becky leaves Entebbe
April 11: Becky arrives in Boston
April 15: Dave flies into Uganda. Only instructions given to Dave: "Find Steve at the airport." "But dude, what if I don't see you there..?"
April 16: 12-hour bus to Kisoro (don't let Dave know, I promised him there would be no long bus trips)
April 17: Hiking in Mgahinga National Park
April 18: Another hike in Mgahinga National Park
April 19: Moving onto Lake Bunyoni
April 20: Lounging at Lake Bunyoni
April 21: Into Ddegeya
April 22: Hiking to neighboring villages and around Ddegeya to say goodbye to kids, students, etc.
April 23: Travel to Jinja
April 24: Raft the Nile. Class V Rapids.
April 25: A final, goodbye to Kampala, the city of smog.
April 26: Entebbe. Maybe the Botanical Gardens. We both leave at around 7PM.
April 27: Arrive in the U.S.
April 28 - May 3: Disappear for a few days.
May 4: Reappear at Union.

On the Surface

Coming into Uganda, I probably commented on a lot of the immediate differences that I saw. People are very formal - women bow when meeting you in the village, people dress very "smartly," and meetings with other villagers are not 15 minute exchanges, but hours-long marathons. We haven't been in a buddy's car, seated one to a seat for our entire time in Uganda. No personal transportation. No good public transportation, by any US standards. Criticize the "T" all you want, it is in a whole different league. Food is bought in kilos, is grown next door, and is cheap as hell. We fetched our drinking (boiled), bathing, cooking, washing etc. water. No running water meant less bathing and less bathing meant...more chiggers. Cooking was done on a coal stove and the electricity was fleeting - internet was fleeting. Calling cards did not work for awhile and then worked off and on. Our most complete form of communication was via letter and we sent a lot of letters those first couple months. Of course, even that had problems; one of my friends recently received a letter sent in November. We live in a building that is much nicer than most of the other villager's homes we had been in. Our "pod" has a cement floor, windows, beds with mosquito nets, lights, shelves, etc. But we still go out to squat if called to do so in the middle of the night. We thought we were living fairly simply, although far and away we had a better living situation than most of our students, which is sort of weird. We live like Kings, but the kids who always remind us "I want to go America" have no idea how much better Kings live in America.

So there was a lot of reflection on these differences in the daily grind, initially. A lot of reflection on not really being immersed in the new culture and conditions, but at the same time we were only tenuously connected to the culture we were brought up in. We celebrated our first and second months with a Coke, which is ridiculous by American standards, but also ridiculously exorbitant by village standards.

Some things have changed - most times we can get rain water from the "tanka," the rainwater tank, and since the electricity has been repaired, there is enough power to read and respond to more e-mails. We can also be pretty active about seeking out information. People learned to call us on Skype and have been amazing about doing it. Talking to family every couple weeks (I think I called my family when I arrived and then it was over a month before we spoke again) is nice. Bilal calls on Skype and connects other people to the conversation so that I can harass Jackie, Jacquie, Mike, or Dave while Bilal dispenses his infinite wisdom. These changes have made our time much different. When internet was a bi-weekly trip to Masaka, phone cards didn't work, and our only outlet for English dialogue was through books, letters, or one another - we really felt the Ugandan pace. We were forced to meander along in Ddegeyan style, trying to do what we thought was best with no real authority or instruction. That was tough. Having power has meant that I stay up a lot later (with a light bulb) working on extra physics stuff (I compiled examination questions from the last ten years of exams for them - this has been my substitute syllabus) or some intense spreadsheets that are supposed to do a lot of data analysis for Engeye (we will see if they work). I enjoy the added work and enjoy the added addiction to coffee, but this style is not the Ugandan style. It is not the pace we initially experienced and I feel lucky that Becky and I are probably the only fellows that will have anything close to our initial experience in August as difficult as it seemed at the time. I'm glad that I experienced an array of comforts and degrees of culture. If I were to come again, I think I'd probably want to burn the midnight oil a little more and push myself a little more. Your own culture stays with you.

I've said before that I don't miss the conveniences and I'm pretty sure that is true. When I went to Jinja and used a flush toilet and a real shower with hot water it was really nice, but I had pretty much forgotten about that luxury until that moment. I had felt no real need for a shower. I felt no real need for a personal vehicle - it wasn't there, it wasn't an option, so I didn't think about it. I enjoyed fetching water and for the same reasons that I didn't miss a personal car, I didn't miss a faucet. What I do miss is the cultural and personal connections to all these things. You go to a movie with friends, a car takes you to important places or it takes you nowhere specific, you use a faucet and stove to make "American" food. I ended up missing things associated with conveniences, not the actual conveniences themselves. This is not a result of some personal strengths on Becky or my part, or some desire to live ascetically, it is the reality of our place. But, like my shower in Jinja, I will enjoy returning to the finer things (which, given what I call a "shift in standards," is now pizza).

I enjoy missing these conveniences, too. Fetching water, picking rocks out of rice and beans, dumping freezing water down my back, walking 90 minutes to teach four back to back lessons and then walking home, waiting an hour for a taxi to take me on a half hour taxi trip have all been good experiences that I wouldn't trade away. When I glide down the valley near Doungwa, weaving around potholes and past banana plants, past the incessant waves and cries from children trying to grab my bicycle, "Bye mzungu! Bye Stivu!" I find that I really enjoy the ride. I laugh at the ridiculousness of an hour commute instead of what would be a twenty minute bike ride on paved roads or ten minutes in a personal car. Uganda has given me a whole lot of time to think. Let's face it, it takes a lot of time to sort through beans, but it leaves room to think about other things (I will post what I considered a lame blog about beans in the next couple days).

Time

A lot of these thoughts, I have realized or at least theorized, can be chalked up to cultural differences in the perception of time. A Ugandan will sit with a group of friends or acquaintances for hours. There is never the least indication that anyone needs to leave that circle to attend to something more pressing. Every second of that interaction is thoroughly enjoyed. It seems that Ugandans spend most of their time enjoying everything - cooking, eating, "digging" in their gardens.

When I write letters I usually try to include some kind of comment on Uganda and my perception thereof. I mean, I'm going to send a letter halfway around the world and talk about the weather? Sometimes. I summarized some thoughts on time in a letter that I never bothered to send. Instead I folded it up and wrote "TIME CAPSULE OF THOUGHTS MARCH 11, 2009." Better than any journal or blog:

In the people, though, I see one clear difference that is in the people. The fundamental difference is in time. I would have thought it something different. I used to wonder if there was only so much happiness in the world - conservation of energy, conservation of charge, conservation of momentum, conservation of happiness. Have you seen a Wimbledon final? One so happy, one so deflated. Do you remember the 2002 World Cup when Landon Donovan laid shirtless and defeated as the Germans celebrated in the background? A politician sells a small piece of his soul to gain friends, fame, and fortune, but destroys a small piece of each of his constituents. Buying a cup of coffee to stave off a hangover in an 8AM class leaches a little life out of some faceless Ugandan and the village soil not marked on any map.

I don't consider that anymore. I've sat in the company of strangers speaking a different language for hours, felt the clock ticking away, and they just feed off one another's warmth. There is always time for your neighbor and it doesn't have to be scheduled in advance. A different pace is not the right way to put it. Things aren't slow because people are less efficient, less pressed, or ambivalent about getting things done - these are things that may be true - time is different because everything is savored. You know those moments when stress is about to break you (if it could), things are turbulent and you are somehow, by accident, reminded of when you are a kid and how you used to visit an elderly neighbor for hours and talk for mutual benefit, captivated by her stories, her tickled at your seven-year old curiosity, or the way you used to be able to study the fallen orange-red leaf in autumn, tracing its veins and sliding the water droplets into one another with your tiny fingers, or a friend or an experience or a place so perfect? These moments are tiny sanctuaries. But then you are snapped back to our world. These are the moments of the most genuine smiles. "What are you smiling at?"

"Nothing."

But here these moments are stretched. The good parts of life are not packaged up into discrete moments. Joy is extracted out of each moment. Some people call this innocence, it may be the same, to find inexplicable joy out of meeting a mzungu, bringing him or her a piece of your garden, or drinking tea with a neighbor. It's as if what we consider nostalgic moments are a constant lasting feeling for them. While I am apprehensive about finding more moments to reflect on, they are opposite, smiling, with lasting contentment.

Letters capture the sentiment of a moment and you can read it and take the derivative of it and the second derivative and get a lot of information, but it is still only a thought at an instant. I think most of that is still probably true.

The Ridiculous

I think a sort of result of being here for so long has given me a good sense of the ridiculous and an ability and insensitivity to laugh at the humor of it. When Becky and I went to the Sese Islands I was able to see tropical rainforests on an island, on the equator, on Lake Victoria. Unfortunately what I saw more of was palm plantations to make cooking oil. They cut down swaths of rainforest to make cooking oil. Guess who is a major stakeholder in the project? Museveni. Reading the headline "M7 buys 44 million dollar jet" next to the headline "Museveni cancels AIDS Conference due to lack of funds" and "9 million starving in Uganda." It is too ridiculous, unreal, and unbelievable and just leads to incredulous laughter. I conjure images of the starving kids pointing to the jet in the sky, or seeing the last hectare of forest, biodiversity cleared as Museveni counts his money. Or when Becky, a volunteer, is asked for a bribe to take care of her "work permit" to stay in the country she is trying to help.

I laugh about these things. But my motivation to help is not diminished - it is enhanced - and maybe underneath the laugh I have a sort of sympathy for the people so set on self-destruction, intentionally or not, personally or not. I don't feel guilty, because I know other people have the same thoughts about Americans for the exact same reasons. I can laugh and do laugh at the ridiculousness of self, too, and probably most often.

The Worrisome

There are a number of things that volunteers are warned against when traveling to the third world- malaria, GI problems, other maladies, personal safety, civil unrest (that is a funny term), rebels, discomfort, daily safety, etc. Moms love to harp on these things as you consider this type of adventure.

After experiencing a number of these issues, I realize that they shouldn't really be feared or even considered separate from going to the third world (if that is something you want to do). You can shield yourself with prophylaxis and exercise due caution all you want, but you will run into these problems. And you should expect to and count it as part of living in these places. Be happy that you got malaria - it makes a bad ass story and it is the reality of place. If you're not willing to deal with it or fear it, then maybe this isn't your cup of tea. And that has been how Becky and I and all the fellows have dealt with these issues (see Robbie's blog).

Reading Where There is No Doctor there aren't a lot of things that are actually dangerous. Ebola will kill you in unpleasant fashion, rabies, if you don't deal with it would also lead to a very unpleasant death, and HIV would be horrible, though all of these are unlikely problems for the careful volunteer. Most of the other stuff goes away on its own or can be dealt with pretty easily at the simplest health centers(dengue, malaria, etc).

So the images of disease, guns, discomfort, and simplicity that worry some are really not to be feared, but packaged up into your genuine experience. And that is how I, and probably all of us, have interpreted the worrisome.

Vivid

Another thing I have noticed is a sense of vividness. There are moments where I am really struck at how vivid the scenery looks. After it rains, the bright green leaves against the dark sky are pretty remarkable. The sky at the end of the month is spectacular. Shooting stars, milky ways, and utter darkness. Things look clearer.

I also remember remembering a lot. Probably mostly because I was so far from home, but I could remember very clearly and reflect on people, places, and times from home as if these things had happened yesterday. Memories are very vivid.

Part of this is because I'm in a pretty spectacular, new, different place and part just might be that I am pretty focused on my few responsibilities. There is no sleep deprivation induced fog.

Leaving

When people ask me about leaving and people have been asking about leaving since almost the first day I got here I told them that I knew my departure date and that I was preparing for it and would be ready to leave when the time came. I wasn't going to wish time away and I wasn't going to delay coming home (too much) because there are still things I need to do in the United States and there are people that I miss and would look forward to coming back to. That stands. It will be tough to leave in some regards, but it will also be rewarding. The same was true of coming here. See my blog on departure day (April 26) for a good summary of this.

Kids will be missed and they will miss me. Jobs will be completed and other tasks will need more work. I will have nostalgia for people, places, and times that I experienced here. But this place has left its mark and it will shape me. I won't forget it and Uganda isn't going anywhere. It will change with me and that is fine by me.

Soccer Balls, Uniforms, and...Physics?

Quickly wanted to post a couple huge thank yous.

First, to the Women's Varsity Soccer Team at Union - we got the jerseys you sent. They have been used in one match so far (against a cross-village rival - the team where there was almost an all-out brawl!) and John snapped a couple photos. We will hopefully get more during the next match. The team looks strapping in maroon. I can't remember if it says Dutchwomen on it, but that would make them incredibly intimidating. Dutchwomen translates, roughly, in Luganda to "Destroyer of all things happy in the neighboring village." We will bring back some pictures with us to share (we will be back in four weeks - incredible). Thank you so much. Engeye FC is on its way.

We also received a package of soccer balls and letters from Saint Eugene's School. The students that Becky and I worked with at the local primary school in Bunyere Village - St. Timothy's - corresponded with the students at St. Eugene's throughout our time here. The pen pal letters were a huge hit with the students at Bunyere (the day after they sent letters they began asking us, "Stivu, Becky, I want my letter!). A month for Bunyere letters to go to the US and a month back...we were asked for letters a lot. But they got so much out of the exchange. The soccer balls are going to be incredible for the kids. I still see the students playing with balls made out of banana leaves (it works incredibly well), but they will really, really appreciate the nice new balls (I am not kidding when I say that they will wash the balls every few days to keep them shiny). I think they will feel...sort of official, like real footballers, which is always nice to see. Either that or they will have some really intense and painful dodgeball games. I think they have a sense of pride when they can use "real" equipment or play on the "good pitch." Thank you so much St. Eugene's for the balls, the letters, and the concern for these students!

Becky and I have been having much more regular access to the internet since the power was fixed. We check e-mail just about everyday and can even skim yahoo news. Or Professor Orzel's blog. I heard on BBC radio yesterday that there are people who have claimed to have evidence of cold fusion - which made me immediately think of a physics graduate who worked on sonoluminescence (bubble fusion) and of a talk given at Union last year about bubble fusion. Which made me immediately think of Professor Orzel and his skepticism over it all. So I checked his blog and he didn't even comment on it. A physics blog not commenting on the "proof" of cold fusion. Ouch. What's your problem with cold fusion? Give it a chance. BBC even talked about it. Anyways, what I found was infinitely more entertaining is here.

Notes.

Random Thoughts and Comments to Delay More Thought-out Thoughts:

I really wonder what Jon Hill's blog is talking about right now. I can't wait to get back to the United States and catch up on what Jon Hill is saying. I CANNOT wait until Jon Hill is unleashed on Union College again.

Becky has 20 days left. I will definitely miss her company, despite our mutual feeling that we lived way too closely at times. The morning program ended yesterday. The morning program would not have happened without Becky's determination and initial vision - I have doubted the program (I think on the blog before), but it is so clear after 20 weeks or so with those kids that the program had a very clear benefit for a lot of kids. Kudos to Becky and putting up with my doubts.

I have 17 days of teaching left. Dave comes in 25 days. I return to America in 36 days. Woah.

Graduate school is on the horizon. I have been torturing myself thinking about which of two universities is better for me for a year now. The decision is upon me, which is really uncomfortable. I have been using way more than my fair share of internet (albeit late at night) to try to break the tie and knock myself off the fence. Either way, I will be doing something with climate science next year. So I am very excited about that.

I remember in September drawing a diagram of the Earth, Sun, Galaxy, etc. and predicting that the Milky way would disappear for a while and reappear right about now. It did and it is pretty g.d. spectacular. Tom is going to pee his pants when he sees this (Tom Perry is the next fellow coming to Uganda and is a Physics major who also gives talks at the Schenectady Science Museum on stars. His talks are good, you should check them out). Monica will sketch/paint really nice pictures of Uganda that Becky and I and our cameras could not capture (Monica Rowett is going to work with Tom next year - she is a pretty awesome artist. She doesn't have facebook, so we can't stalk her too much, but if you google her, art stuff comes up).

It seems very fitting that a a guy and a girl are going to replace Becky and I. It is now within our reach to explain to kids that another (omulala) guy is going to replace me in a few months and another girl will replace Becky. Token mzungu guy and mzungu girl will resume. Kids love the idea of a newer, better Stivu. I do too.

I forgot to describe the funniest story from Uganda yet. Remember how Pieter came to do circumcisions? He circumcised one of our neighbors, also named Peter. There was a sheet keeping Peter from seeing what was going on, but I remember listening and hearing Peter alternating between pleading for help from his mom and John. It was sort of strange because from what Pieter described, there should be little or no pain during the procedure. We now know why he was so upset. According to Peter translated by John:

Muzay (a crazy neighbor who lives in a grass hut next to the clinic) said this was going to happen! He said don't play around the clinic or the white man will come and cut off your penis. Don't cut it off - I won't play at the clinic anymore!

His mom and John didn't laugh then (this was only translated to Pieter later), but definitely got a good laugh about this when Pieter was done, recovering in his dress. This is now one of my favorite, ridiculous, almost unbelievable stories. With that said, I now know the difference between a dress and a skirt after telling Peter he had a nice dress on (ekitetay). "Steve. Nedda. Si ekitete. Si dress. Eno skirty. [Steve. No. This is not a dress, this is a skirt.]"

With that said, I think our Luganda skills improved. We certainly can't have a conversation with people about M7s ridiculous policies, but we can definitely pick up on it when people are talking about us. We can convey most of the things we need in broken Luganda and understand simple instructions. I think a little formal Luganda along with a little more immersion in the village would (and will) go a long way.

A little more on the abstract side. One of the first understandings I needed when I came here was that life is not on pause when I leave. While I am here, things happen there. Opportunities will come and opportunities will go (thanks for messing up the economy while I was away). People will change, people will enter, people will leave. All of this has happened. My aunt spent two years in the Peace Corps and was informed by telegram that an uncle passed away - that is so strange to think - that there is changing and sending pulses of change that you were not apart of. It is sort of weird to think that you will leave for a strange land for a very long time and return to something different. If you're not careful, you can wrongly assume that you will be behind a year, like the 5'10" eighth grader (Chad?) But one of the next realizations I needed to make was that I am not here and the rest there. There is no isolation as has been pointed out in many ways, on many occasions, by many people. There influences here despite physical and temporal separation. So "there is no away." There stays with you, is a part of you, no matter when or where you are. Take solace in that.

Brawls, Circumcisions, Guns, Gardening, and Sticks and Stones

Everything Summary

So, at the moment, morning program is going well, but will end in next couple weeks as we begin to wind down and prepare to head home. Teaching is a lot of fun, but very, very challenging for me. I feel like I understand physics a lot better and I am getting a taste of some of the more applicable physics - potentiometers, wheatstone bridge, shunts and multipliers, and all kinds of other stuff we never covered in the US curriculum (I think electrical engineers cover this stuff in intro courses). The clinic is thriving and is making leaps and bounds in infrastructure and the medical management is improving markedly after the last medical mission.

I make up to-do lists and stay up late and get up early to try to get through them, but often do not. Figuring out next steps in life (grad school, broader life goals, immediate arrival in the US) and thinking about the family and staying in touch has also been taking a lot of time recently. Planning and familiarizing myself with the physics material takes a lot more time than I would have thought - luckily Becky has really taken charge of the morning program and is equally busy with her work at the primary school. Becky is doing an incredible job and has introduced James and the Giant Peach and The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to her classes, which I'm sure they will remember for years to come. That kind of thing seems so straightforward in the United States - run to the copy center to make the copies, pick them up later in the day or the next day (or simply have the families buy a copy for a few bucks). Here, that kind of initiative takes at least two hours in a taxi and a lot of time making sure that the copy place didn't mess up. And then planning to make sure ESL students understand and get a lot out of it with limited resources to do so...Part of the reason it is tough to get stuff done here is that everything takes so much longer to do, which is fun and frustrating at the same time.

The garden...is healthy...

Home is on the horizon, which is scary and exciting simultaneously. Will be back April 27, but will be doing a sort of sprint around the northeast so likely won't be plugged into American life (cell phones, iPods, McDonald's, plastic, personal transport, constant availability, convenience, internet, etc.) again until early May.

The Kyekula-Ddegeya Near Brawl

Ugandans are rough, footballers which is a little stressful as a referee. On nearly every challenge, both players foul one another - so I have to pick the greatest offense or decide if one player gained a significant advantage by grabbing a shirt, throwing an elbow, taking an extra step into the other player, etc. Usually I don't call anything I just yell "play" as both players complain. Nothing is simple. Both players will argue that the throw-in should be theirs, even if the ball clearly belongs to one team. It doesn't matter how obvious someone is on or offsides, someone is complaining (I don't know how to explain that you can't be offsides on a throw in or a goal kick in Luganda).

In the Kyekula Ddegeya match that I was officiating it was a typical game with two yellow cards against Kyekula (one for stepping on the keeper, quite intentionally and one for pulling a player down by his neck) and one penalty kick against Ddegeya (they have an obsession with bicycle kicks and too often kick someone else's head). With about 15 minutes left in the match a Kyekula player took down a Ddegeyan. I blew the whistle in what was an easy call, but unfortunately the Ddegeyan player retaliated by stomping on the opponent. People rushed out onto the field ready to brawl - I was on site with a red card in hand for the cleat stomping, but found myself holding back and trying to convince what ended up being a small mob from both teams to leave the pitch. Imagine that, the only white guy in the surrounding area trying to rationally ask, "Why can't we all get along." If it were a movie it would have been fitting to see the mzungu slapped to the ground as an all out brawl ensued. Luckily, that didn't happen. Only pitchforks could have made the scene more appropriate - I sense a developing rivalry. They didn't seem to care that I was blowing the whistle in their ears. After about five minutes we were able to clear the field and the red card was issued. I decided to let play continue, since only a couple small jabs were thrown by spectators. The penalty was still for Ddegeya (they were awarded a kick before the outburst) and Kyekula kept trying to take the kick, yelling "fair play" at me. I was eventually able to explain that fair play meant that Ddegeya was to kick the ball out of bounds, giving Kyekula a throw in (to make up for stomping on the Kyekulan player).

Ddegeya went on to win 6-2, scoring two goals while playing short a player. It seemed like all of Ddegeya was in attendance and the cheering was pretty exuberant and loud. It was a festive atmosphere for the burgeoning club. The other team told me I was "unbalanced" (this happens every game) despite the fact that most penalties were called in their favor. Personally, I thought it was the first match where I didn't really have calls that I regretted. I have been invited to play in the next Ddegeya away match, which I am very, very excited for. I get to throw the elbows and let someone else sort it out (sort of joking, but the slow white guy needs to grab a shirt every once in awhile - consider it a handicap).

Gardening

I rethought our garden program - us harvesting crops to give away, which ended up not making a lot of sense. Becky and I have been pretty busy with a much more stressful (good stress), more advanced, teaching load at schools that are farther away, some extra Engeye odds and ends to help with, and resuming the morning program. Additionally, we are not well-seasoned subsistence farmers. So the new garden is managed by me, but the work comes from kids from about five families who are supposed to keep up with the day to day activities (with my assistance in buying seeds, obtaining manure, making the seed bed, etc).

I think the first day the kids watered once (we water morning and evening) and then for the next week I found myself getting up at 6:30 and returning from hour and a half walks from Kyetume at 6:30PM (bike tires popped) so that I could go fetch water and then water the garden. The kids ditched! After talking to the right kids, they are pulling a little more weight with the understanding that all the crops are theirs and I am going to take nothing - my role is only assist from time to time.

Anyways, the seedlings seem like they are in good shape and I think this will all work out. The peanut crop of last year failed, thanks to a squirrel [insert image of angry white man shaking fist in the air], but this time around we planted cabbage, eggplant, green pepper, tomato, onion, watermelon, and carrots (kids choices) so I think we are squirrel safe. Everything will likely be ready around when the next group of fellows comes or perhaps a little before so my goal is to get them into the habit of coordinating watering and weeding with one another before I leave.

Sticks and Stones

One of my favorite images from Uganda that I actually didn't witness was a scene Becky described for me (I am a sick bastard). "Steve, they had exercise day at school today! They stopped classes and made all the students run around the school field seven times - teachers were positioned along the perimeter with sticks and they would chase after and whack the kids who weren't running."

They do talk about fitness more than I would expect here given that most Ugandans look like they are in incredible shape. Guys almost always have six packs and, to be honest, I think our cook, Susan, could take me. This is a scene so ridiculous and unbelievable - there are not many "fat kids" here. Unfortunately, there are slow kids who tire and need motivation to keep running through all seven laps. Different world.

This is one of those images that if I walked by I would think nothing of - I am used to some scenes that would definitely be very striking in the US: Kids walking two miles to school barefoot, kids beaten with sticks on the playground, sleeping armed gunmen in front of banks, 20-something people in one taxi-van, etc.

...TIA: This is Africa.

"For Those Who Toil."

They don't give examinations here - I think there isn't enough time in the classroom and teachers would probably prefer not to grade. Most of the preparation is left to students and I find students independently doing homework that was never assigned. Wow.

Anyways, they like it when I assign work and then mark it up for them and give them solutions. I have been assigning past examinations, which are surprisingly complicated in spots and some of the questions have me reaching for my physics text book (physics here is much more applied than the physics curriculum I remember in AP Physics). I think my favorite part after spending several hours meticulously marking the exams and grading them was to turn over the last exam and find, in ominous looking hand writing, "For Those Who Toil." That student didn't do as well as I had expected, but I think he will ace his exam when the time comes.

Pieter and Peter

The last week Engeye has had another mzungu volunteer. Pieter, a doctor currently in residence in New York City, came out to Engeye with the mission of performing circumcisions on those who could not otherwise afford them.

Pieter has been a lot of fun and another nice change of pace - he introduced me to backgammon and the two of us took off to Lake Mburro National Park on March 12 to see zebras, impala, warthogs, and a variety of other critters. My favorite moment at the national park was when we stumbled on a herd of water buffalo. As we crept closer our armed guard cocked his rifle and seemed to have the mentality, "If that herd [there were dozens] decide to run over us, by God, I will take out one of those bastards." He then proceeded to smack his rifle to scare them, made sudden movements as if he were going to fire, and finally he anticlimactically picked up some hippopotamus poop and threw it at them. It was even sloppier because the Ugandans don't play baseball or football, so the throw was sort of...it looked like when an extra point try in football is fumbled and the kicker tries to be the hero quarterback...except he was throwing hippo poop. The poop made them jog away as we proceeded to on route.

Of course, when someone comes to do circumcisions in a small village in which you have worked for a year, there is a good chance that you know some of the clientele. Pieter worked on two of the morning school program kids, who have now been wearing their sister's skirts for about a week now. One of the boys usually wears osh kosh b'gosh overalls and a pink shirt, enough to get beat up on the playground in any culture. I would have thought a dress would be instant disaster, but I think the new penis gave him a brand new sense of masculinity. He doesn't cry nearly as much...or maybe I am being ridiculous...he is ~6 years old. A circumcision is a pretty intense procedure (Pieter introduced us to the process with a sock, his fist, and a very large wrench, thank you Pieter), especially for a rural clinic. Everything is very complicated relative to the US operating room in which Pieter practiced - sterilization, trained assistants, anesthesia, communication, etc. Despite the complications, all the procedures ended well and I think everyone was happy after the fact.

I was around during some of the screaming (a lot of it was that the kids were scared) and helped to hold down one of the boys during the operation. I think there is a point in your life when you can't remember anything before it - sort of an event horizon. I wouldn't wish circumcision on anyone past that point.

Bicycle

I think I mentioned that Becky and I bought a bicycle a couple months ago. I remember proudly bringing my shiny white "changer" back to Ddegeya - we were going to be a special pair, the bicycle and I. I had thought about names for it before ever really riding it - "The Beast," "Speedy," "Gus" - I had thought about how I was going to tell Tom, "Yeah, Beast really can get through those hilly passes during the rainy season - you have to watch out for the 18th gear, doesn't sit right, but Beast is some piece of machinery" with a bit of pride and authority in my voice.

"Beast" has had four flat tires, two on each wheel at different times, keeping the bike off the road as much as possible. It also has a broken peddle, the seat broke off and now will not tighten to a reasonably comfortable height (it is a kid's bike), the frame is broken so the back brake rubs against the wheel, the bell is broken, the 21st gear doesn't work, occasionally the chain falls of inexplicably, and the kick stand comes down and locks in place (it will lock down, but not up). Sometimes I feel like it would be easier to tie a rope to the bike and my waist and drag the mangled piece of rusty steel to school. Piece of shit.

I really don't mind the 1.5 hour walk to Kiswera to teach three times a week. I do get mad when the bike breaks part way into the trip and I have to walk with that squeaky slow bicycle that I have come to despise through beating sun and pouring rain. When it breaks and I am tucked into the hills I feel like Homer Simpson, "You little #$%#."

Anyways, the bike usually is a big help and saves two hours off my commute. And I'm glad I'm bitching about a bicycle rather than something else. Life is good.

Guns, M7

One of the striking things about Uganda is the number of guns around (in the larger towns). I wasn't surprised or shocked, it is striking, because it seems so unnecessary. I've never felt unsafe here. Most of the larger shops in Kampala and the banks in both Masaka and Kampala have an armed gunmen (often asleep) sitting outside on a chair, gun leaning against the leg as if it were a backpack or a rolled up newspaper for later reading. At Lake Mburro our guide carelessly slung his gun down and I almost knocked it over (he left it in the corner).

So, not only are there a lot of guns, but the people with them seem wholly unprepared to use them. When Israel started killing Palestinian civilians in large swaths in December and January the Muslim community held a protest. The police, decked out in riot gear, through tear gas at the peaceful protesters; the protesters through it back and the police retreated. Ridiculous and funny.

The president and his family often race down the road that goes past Ddegeya with lights and sirens and a couple trucks of military personnel seated on the outside of the truck if anything goes awry. Mostly, this makes me mad because nobody really cares enough to kill the president's nephew - so it is an incredible waste of money to buy a caravan of security every time he goes to Kampala.

This, of course, doesn't get me anywhere near as angry as when I read that the President bought a 44 million dollar jet (he already has one). It just makes you want to tell Museveni, M7, "You really aren't that important, you really aren't the great president you want to be remembered as, and the people are too busy picking up the slack from your failing administration and corrupt government to worry about how to kill you. Their day's aim is much simpler and more urgent: food." These types of articles about rampant government corruption are generally situated next to an articles like: "9 million starving in Uganda," "Possible polio outbreak after gov't fails to heed warnings," "Uganda cancels AIDS meeting, citing lack of funds."

All of this reminds me of the scene from Good Morning Vietnam in which they showed scenes of war and played "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. Black humor.

Backpackers

As we were headed to Kampala Backpacker's this weekend I explained to Pieter that I can never really get a full night's sleep, that invariably, no matter how large your room is there is some German, Dutch, or Aussie guy (no Americans yet) who flings on the lights at 3 or 4AM and carries on loud obnoxious conversation.

At 5AM a German couple decided to blast German punk rock and turn on the lights, despite the six other people who weren't ready to get up for the day. I simply said, "Pieter, you hearing this" as if to say, "I told you so." He just laughed at the ridiculousness of such ambivalence to the comfort of others. One of the other people in the room asked them to turn off the blasting music, which they simply ignored. If Pieter had not been there with his possible judging eyes I feel like I might have had to loudly comment on the situation, "Christian, thanks, I'm up. Appreciate the wake up call."

The Medical Mission: A Cast of Characters

Ba-mzungu means more than one mzungu. For the past seven months Becky and I have pretty much been considered a mzungu. Becky is often called Steve by kids old enough to know better and no matter how short I cut my hair to differentiate myself from Becky, I am also, on too many occasions, referred to as Becky. We deal.

When the medical mission came ba-mzungu was shouted throughout Ddegeya and to Becky and I (as if to say, "Becky, Steve, look, more of you"). But the medical mission was not just ba-mzungu - a lot of fun characters emerged and the kids, somewhat frustratingly, immediately learned all their names with no problems.

Mike with his tattoos was an immediate hit with the kids as they pointed to the various animals on his legs and gave him Luganda 101. "Empolagoma! Lion!" I think at one point he lifted his shirt to show his pistols holstered on his chest. Kinoni reportedly could not stop yelling, "pistols! pistols!" Waswa recalled many of the people from past missions and rolled off names asking who would be in attendance this year, "Kenji? Misty? Joe? Mark?" I didn't know the people who came before and, to be honest, I had no idea who was coming outside a few of the Engeye board members. Walking with some of the doctors was a bit of a hazard - they all had soft spots for the kids with jiggers and various other wounds and often asked Becky or I to try to send them back to the clinic (and to what always seemed to be Dr. Higgins or Kim) for treatment. We didn't really know how to tell them to go to the clinic, "Gende edwaliro. Olaba Dr. Kim," we'd murmur in really poor Luganda. Carlos and Sheryl were especially guilty of having this overflowing compassion. They just couldn't stop treating the villagers. But that was the point.

One of the highlights for me was getting to meet some of the people that clog my gmail inbox with questions that I don't begin to know the answers to. Anny and I first got to hang out on what I've determined to be about a ten mile hike to Kiswera to watch me teach. The conversation went something like this, "Anny, I think you could probably watch me teach if we leave in five minutes, skip lunch, and walk really, really fast. It's far and it is hot in the valley." "Okay, Steve, no problem." She later confessed to me that she wanted to kill me when I told her we were halfway done with the walk about an hour into our trek. The bats in the senior six science classroom and the cattle with three foot horns walking in step with us along the way didn't make the trip easier. The sun absolutely burning the hell out of her skin probably made her feel like she could never go on a walk with me again (I think we walked to Kyamaganda later in the week). Thinking back about Anny's trip makes me laugh at the daily problems she faced. I volunteered to help Anny survey the Engeye plot for an Engineer's Without Border's team. I was out of it that day - I would walk away from my mark, drop things that shouldn't be dropped, forget to measure things, and delay the work in the baking sun as much as possible (unintentionally). I think at one point Anny asked me if I was able to work with lab partners in Physics. Nope - they put me in the basement by myself. It was reported that she hates taking pills - she would pace back and forth with water in one hand and the pill in the other - yet she chose the malaria prophylaxis that is meant to be taken daily. I sort of remember telling her that it would be really unlikely to get malaria. Unfortunately, Anny did get malaria as she was leaving for the United States. Despite the trials that poor Anny went through, she gathered a massive amount of data, taking notes when the rest of us were too lazy and converting my illegible, cryptic scraps of paper into data for good use. Last I heard, the malaria is getting better and she is back to school.

I had met Misty on a rainy day in a Starbuck's nearly one year ago and she also made the trek with Anny and I. In Starbuck's I was pretty awestruck by Misty's demeanor. She had an important exam the next day - she is a third year medical student in an MD/PhD program now on a Fulbright in Japan - but she was busy working on fundraising for the clinic. I think she saw the jaws drop on Becky, Dean McEvoy, and myself and made the comment, "Yeah, Steph and I, we drink a lot of coffee..." Misty has a sort of problem in that everything is positive. "So, this is going to be a 3 hour trip to see me teach for like an hour and a half..." "Yeah, definitely, that sounds like fun. Definitely." As Anny was ready to kill me, Misty was calling for team photos with silly faces. Misty was also one of the "mzungu doctors" that stayed up late and partied - I had just about forgotten that 1AM...2AM... existed. So Misty was one of the several people that I got to know in that regard (along with Dr. Joe, Kim, Mike, Dave, Carlos, Mark, and a few others), which was too much fun. Incredibly, all the doctors were up and ready to go on time every day with incredible determination, professionalism, and passion. I think at one point Mike joked, "So, you and Becky...you have crazy dance parties with guitars and beers every night?"

Dave is another guy who helps make me feel loved by filling my inbox with questions that I have no clue about. Technical questions about laboratory tests (that aren't really meant for me to answer) and then the occasional - "We left behind dangerous chemicals in this container...keep them in a well ventilated area..." Well, shit. But Dave was also too much fun. Dave led nightly walks through Ddegeya (I didn't have the heart to tell him that we were taking the exact same road to nearly the exact same spot every night and that I really didn't want to walk through the bush at night). He's also a pretty mean guitar player. He rocked out to any pop hit of any decade, which might have bothered me in past lives, but I am in American music withdrawal so I had a lot of fun singing along with them too late and too loud for the neighbors. Actually, when you talk about Dave, you can't leave out Mark. Comments about how "Mark is the best roommate I ever had" and "That's not the key we practiced this song [probably N'Sync] in!" can only be described as "cute." Mark was the quiet and modest guy that got along with everyone and was a perfect complement to "Diva" Dave. Dave also set up a meeting with Rakai Health Sciences and it was a good time getting out there and back - a trip of maybe 60 kilometers and everyone seemed surprised that it was an all day affair. Rakai, I learned, is the point where the first case of HIV was diagnosed. They have an incredible health center that does tons of great outreach, testing, treatment, and research - a leading HIV/AIDS research center partnered with big time US partners. Engeye won't be Rakai soon, but it was great to see some of the lab stuff (Misty took pictures of anything that looked remotely expensive, unusual, or colorful) and hear about their outreach and research.

Of course, one of the biggest treats of working with this medical team was getting to know the founder of Engeye a little better. Stephanie is an incredible person and I don't fully understand how she gets everything done, but she somehow does it. Founding and managing a health clinic from a different continent, dealing with all the ethical questions involved with healthcare (patient fees, level of care, pharmacy decisions), keeping the clinic running by fundraising $1000 every month, studying in medical school, dealing with us volunteers, etc. Stephanie has such a down to earth demeanor and is so honest about everything that things just kind of sort themselves out, somehow. Anyways, talking to her about all the things I perceive as problems now and in the future (cultural erosion, lack of healthcare, lack of quality education, climate change, population growth, etc - depressed?) I got a good feeling about how she deals with these things. One step at a time. Education sucks? Well, we can at least distribute pens and pencils to the kids who don't have them. I can teach English (she volunteered in another village 9 years ago). Kids get chiggers? Well, we can distribute shoes for them. (And, healthcare sucks? We can at least build a health clinic 30 kilometers from the nearest city and sustain it by only determination and a lot of all nighters...). Everything seems to be "What is something I can do?" And that is a very inspirational attitude. Nothing is too large to take a chip out of.

Another volunteer that left an impression on me was Brian. She is a professional photographer, although she never really made that seem that important - she's done shoots for major magazines and, from what I'm told, has a pretty nice website, although I think I would have a tough time loading it until I get back to the United States. But what struck me was her rapport with the kids. A shy, shy girl, Mercy, would crawl over and just fall asleep on Brian. Mercy took a month before she would even talk to Becky or I and it even took some time for her to get comfortable with John. And some volunteer walks in and there is an immediate sense of comfort. That was pretty incredible. Brian also went on a hike to Kyamaganda with me to see another health clinic and has a picture of probably the coolest rainbow I've ever seen...I hope that is posted somewhere.

The residents, Sheryl and Faith, and the students, such as Mark and Kim, were so incredible with the patients. I could see a lot of commitment to "getting it right" and treating everything. I remember seeing Faith running a bed all by herself and Sheryl called a patient back after seeing her limp away - the patient didn't complain of a limp, but Sheryl wanted to figure everything out. A lot of the people here see a doctor for a collection of problems - they got their money's worth with this medical team. I would wander into the clinic from time to time to bother a doctor about their handwriting or to flip some of the solar switches and it was so incredible to see all of these professionals who have never seen malaria or typhoid or scabies or whatever other tropical diseases were presenting act so independently and confidently. There was a lot of mutual respect. I remember one of the older doctors telling me, "These kids are talented. Really well trained. Don't get me wrong, they mess up, but they are really good." And the established doctors such as Dr. Higgins, Dr. Bob, Dr. Carlos or Dr. Joe were all independently described as brilliant on multiple occasions by multiple students. It was an impressive orchestration of learning, treating, and advancing the clinic's standards. It was pretty nice to listen in on some of Dr. Higgin's conversations about health care here and in the United States. She also donated the voltage converter which is what allowed Engeye to run the microscope that did the first positive malaria smear (we had used only quick tests in the past).

One of the newer board members, Dr. Carlos, is a great add to the Engeye team. He knows his drugs so well and it was pretty cool to see him figure out price per pill seemingly instantly and figure out what treatments were most efficient for a clinic that charges $1.50 to be seen and treated. Dr. Carlos was a guy who "got it" a lot faster than many of the others. He probably could have negotiated the taxi price just as well as I could have and he had a really good sense about how things could work and how to get things done. He also partied with us and gave me some pretty good laughs.

In all, the clinic saw hundreds of patients over the two weeks and helped deal with a lot of serious conditions that would have otherwise gone untreated. While I lingered on the ba-mzungu component, there was also a host of translators and a cook that made everything run really smoothly. It goes without saying, but John solved every problem and made everything run seamlessly. It was a really, really fun couple of weeks and I got to meet what I felt were 18 incredible people that I hope to run into this spring back in Albany. I remember feeling a pinch of loneliness when everyone had to go - I was the only one left (Becky went to Kampala and I stayed back to do a couple things at the clinic and to teach at Kiswera) and it is tough to go from two Americans to a team of fun, interesting people, to the mzungu duo again. I could tell that the kids were disappointed to see the team go, too. Ba-mzungu spoils the kids and I think everyone loves it (Becky and I know better by now). This transition really made me realize that getting back to the US will be harder than I ever thought or expected. Anyways, thank you ba-mzungu for all your work at the clinic this February and everything you are continuing to do for Engeye.

6 Month Blog A Month Late

6 Months in a Place Where the Toilet Struggles to Decide Which Way to Swirl

Actually, we're well past that point. I've spent the last few days feverishly preparing the clinic for a team of 20 or so American medical volunteers that will see hundreds of patients in the next couple weeks (it is February 1). Kids all over are returning to school tomorrow and it was exciting to see off the Engeye Scholars today as they packed up all their school stuff and headed to Kinoni where they will be boarding. It amazed me how little fanfare there was from their parents who were not present as the kids left the village for what will at least be several weeks if not months. Becky stuck a picture of Peter, Mercy, and Nabuuma in Nabuuma's trunk - a nice keepsake from an anonymous donor.

The Engheeneer

I have been doing a lot of electrical work the last two days. I connected a laboratory and rewired the whole system so that some safety switches would be in place and so that I would be the sole person with the knowledge and ability to decide who will have light. Actually, it is to break it up so that we don't destroy the inverter. It was a huge puzzle as I haven't ever wired something by myself before and almost every wire I picked up had a different color scheme. Blue/Black/Red, Purple/Blue/Green, Blue/Red/Green and more. I did all the wiring without testing anything and then, after three hours of darkness (I started at dusk) we flipped on the brand new master switch and all the new nooks and crannies had light. I was astonished that nothing was on fire. During the day someone was burning plastic (I know, I know, it's bad - it wasn't me) and I kept thinking that somewhere a wire that was a little too thin was getting a little too hot. Francis kept coming up to tell me to tell me that I am "an en-gee-near." I wish.

Anyways, I plugged in the microscopes and the centrifuge to make sure everything would work and blew a fuse in the microscope (tested with a circuit set sent from Union Physics in lieu of a voltmeter) and the light bulbs in the scope. I had wired everything with the English inverter (220 V) instead of 110 V. I spent the next afternoon turning one 3 meter wire into one 9 meter wire and installing a smaller 110 V inverter. The whole reasoning as to which wire should connect to which color wire reminds me of Bilal's approach to physics. "Wow, Bilal, how did you get that answer?! No one else got it right."

I knew I was off by an order of magnitude so I divided by 10 and then the units with the formula I used were inverted so I raised it by the negative one power, negative first power [as he scratches his head trying to figure out if he raised or lowered the power by one or the first], and then the answer in the back of the book is quadruple that so I divided by lambda squared because lambda was one-half.

Dave would have walked away long before Bilal finished and I would have stuck around to scream at Bilal to tell him that I knew I was off by a factor of X, but there needed to be a physical reasoning behind his math. Anyways, I wired Engeye Health following a similar logic so hopefully the cement and mud brick construction will protect it from fire.

Stephan

Most of the kids cannot pronounce Stephanie, the name of the clinic's founder, so I often hear "Steph-an azay!" chanted (Stephanie has arrived). Stephanie's arrival has been pretty great for the clinic. Things are getting organized and finished, ideas are being exchanged and plotted out, and everyone is getting important feedback and advice. Stephanie is incredibly easy to work with because she is so down to earth. You would pick her out as an everyday volunteer the way she's willing to throw herself into any activity and there is absolutely no command and control leadership - she listens to the nurse and his ideas about how to do things (she is a fourth year med student), talks to the clinic manager about his ideas and her ideas, asks Becky and I for our opinions, and is willing to work with anyone on anything. It is that kind of flexibility and commitment that get health clinics in rural African built.

Becky and I have been looking forward to this day as a sort of milestone - the day the medical mission comes. Every month we've been here we've talked about how when the medical team comes we will almost be done; that time has come and we find ourselves with less than three months with Nabuuma, Mercy, Peter, Waswa, Alfa, Aksom, Faisal, and all the others that punctuate our days. The goodbye process is starting as we explain over and over that in April we will be going home, waka, but not home at the clinic, home in America. Sometimes our comment is met with silence, sometimes they tell us they want to come to America; both responses are tough. I want to come to America sort of means that they don't understand that we are likely gone forever or for a number of years and silence with a glance to the dirt usually means that they do understand and don't like that scenario. Just seeing the kids faces when the doctors left, I could tell that there might be some tough goodbyes.

Teaching

Teaching physics at St. Bernard's has kind of been crazy and stressful. It has rained every day the last 10 days and when I tell Richard that Ugandans have lied to me about when the rainy season starts he replies, "Even I do not understand this rain. This never happens." So my first week on the job I walked (when I biked I was covered in mud), which is about 9 - 10 miles roundtrip. "Good for the gluts" a French-Canadian might say, but it makes for long days. I have one class so far - Advanced Level Second Year Physics. The first year advanced kids come February 16. When I looked through the book it started with vectors through circular motion onto fluid dynamics and electromagnetism and an array of progressively harder material. I figured I would be teaching the vectors and projectile motion stuff, but was asked (12 hours ahead of time, after I told them I could not teach with 20 minutes notice) to teach 1.5 hours of fluid dynamics. I reviewed Stoke's Law, Bernoulli's Equation and derivation, etc. and I felt there was a good level of understanding (they could answer my questions and do problems). After class, they asked me to cover friction. They had made it all the way to fluid dynamics, but between their two part time teachers they had never formally covered friction. What a mess - talented kids with a tough curriculum, just no support. That was my introduction to secondary school. I am finding an array of other sort of fundamental holes - I cover momentum only to find that they hadn't covered work-energy (also - the book I have by a British guy says work can be negative - I thought work can't be negative? I can see how you can make both arguments...)

When I brought in other materials to illustrate surface tension and capillary action they told me they had never done lab practicals and no one had ever done any kind of demonstration. Reports made it back to me by a variety of staff and via Francis (an alumnus of St. Benard's) that the first day they had trouble with my accent, but after getting used to it they felt I was a "skilled" teacher. I stress a lot that I will miss something or that I will not remember my physics (I hadn't covered Bernoulli since high school) or I will not get through all the material in the next few months, or that I am wasting too much time (an hour biking or three hours walking roundtrip), but overall I am pleased that I can help. These teachers are stretched to the limit and I feel like I take some of the pressure off them. In the next week I will likely be given more classes and will probably teach 2-3 hours per day. That, with the morning program and a variety of other projects I wanted to complete will keep me very busy the next few months.

Five Yellow Cards

The last few weeks I have been playing "football" with the older guys again. Sometimes I referee sometimes I play - mostly refereeing, which has been a pretty incredible experience. I had my first official match - Bunyere Village versus some other village that came riding in on bicycles from the north. By most accounts the game was well officiated (one person is too few to get all the offsides perfect), but I doled out five yellow cards and I am the type of person that lets teams play. Ddegeya, which must have heard or seen a bicycle kick by a Man Utd. player, kicked three people in the head trying to mimic the action. Another person mimicked an Italian National, getting kicked in the leg and grabbing at his eye. Yellow card. And one last person complained about a call and then stood in front of a free kick obnoxiously. Things that the star players like Ronaldo do, unfortunately. Kids these days have no good role models. I think the match ended in a tie, but more to come.

Letter stealer

I sent a letter to a friend and it never made it (five months)...probably has happened a couple of times now. She posited that there is a lonely postal employee sapping the energy, time, and life out of letters stealing the good sentiment for him or herself. It sounded like something from a Neil Gaiman story but made me wonder about one of the last types of "slow" communication in an accelerating world, which is why I tried to send a bunch (I've burned out and had trouble writing them the last few months)...

Medical Mission

I started writing a full blog about the medical mission, but realized that it would be tough to keep to a manageable size. The medical team (and other key Team Engeye members) made a huge impact in such a short time and really left a big impression on the community and me. It was so (unexpectedly) strange to have so many mzungus wandering around and hanging out with us. It was really nice, but really tough to see everyone leave. Becky and I had been excited for the team for sometime, but this was a group with a lot of character (Mike they call you a muyaye, Dr. Joe staying up later than us younger folk and then making sure to see patients even on off days or after hours, Brian catching a inexplicable rainbow on film, Dave and Mark leading walks and then jamming with the guitar far too late for anyone's good, Anny and Misty making the three hour hike to Kiswera to sit in a bat infested classroom through an hour of boring physics lecture - I have something to write about everyone in the group, but I don't know how much everyone wants to be written about and, again, it would go on for pages. The basic story line is that everyone went out of their way to do a lot of good and they were successful.

Where did February Go?

Wow. This is the longest drought in posting so far. It's been crazy at Engeye with a medical mission coming through (more on that in a couple weeks), a new teaching position teaching advanced physics akin to first year college physics, the morning program re-starting, the Engeye board giving us some fun, new tasks for us to think about and work on, a second attempt at gardening (did I tell you the outcome of the peanut crop? I hope not), refereeing inter-village soccer matches, etc. Anyways, there is a lot going on and unfortunately the last blog I wrote (April 1) is stuck on a computer with no wireless internet or thumb drive in sight.

Just wanted to let all of you back home know that I am thinking about you and will probably be back in the United States around April 26.

Maybe a Top Ten Thoughts of the Moment, too:

Leaving will be harder than anticipated

Choosing future path will be harder than I thought

Little kids are sponges for adult energy and attention

There was a false-rainy season and no one knows what the hell is happening with climate here, but I know I am carrying a lot of water, again

Medical volunteers were too much fun and thoroughly distracting from daily grind in rural Africa. Also, they left us with hot showers and food and floss (too kind)

The clinic is steadily improving. It is night and day since we got here (not because of us, just good decisions by management)

Teaching is damn fun (as one of my former physics professors would say) and I think it will have to be a part of my future career

I have a 10 mile commute 3 - 4 days per week, via bike, unless the bike tire pops, which happens way more than it should

We are almost seven months into this adventure (my 6th month blog will be posted next week...) and will be home in what seems like no time

I think the absolute best team will be here to replace Becky and I next year (is this public information? My former roommate, one of the people I respect most on this planet, will be here. That is hint enough.). Two people from 1294 Lenox, Schenectady, NY to Ddegeya Africa in two years - what are the odds?

Q and A

In December I asked for your questions - I got a couple and I feel bad that I can't give great answers, but here are my thoughts at least. Thanks for the questions.

I'd be very interested in knowing what the people you encounter talk about with each other; typical topics of discussion between adults, kids, etc. What makes them happy, sad, concerned, etc.

Urban Adults

This is kind of a tough question and made me re-realize how big the language barrier can be. In the taxi when I kind of overhear Luganda I can sort of identify what the conversation is about, but not much more than that. A lot of what people talk about in the taxi (these are people who are a little more affluent, often urban) is common every day stuff - the weather, how the driver is driving (crazily), or commenting about things on the radio. Tone is often very jovial and people feel pretty free to make fun of one another or the stumbling mzungu. Many comment about stuff on the radio and joke about how ridiculous the politicians are.

Generally, if I am there, they will usually bring up Obama (without knowing where I am from, only that I am white) - Almost everyone here is excited about Obama. On the streets of Kampala people will shout Obama to me in excitement, kids here will talk about Obama, and the people who speak English will often strike up a conversation about Obama. The papers write about how important it is that Obama is president (there is a writer here claiming that Obama's grandfather was a Ugandan).

When I speak in English, generally the deficiencies of Uganda come into the conversation. If I speak to a school teacher they talk about the bad students and ignorant community, if I talk to the parents they talk about the mediocre teachers and the headmistress charging school fees, if I speak to a student they talk about Ugandans having no money, if you speak to a driver they talk about fuel prices increasing (even if they have not), etc. I definitely sympathize and witness a lot of these problems, but often the conversation directs itself toward me fixing the problem by giving money.

Village Adults

Outside the taxi conversations seem a lot more practical. A carpenter will see us planting peanuts and comment that we are a little late in planting, but that our peanuts will be okay. One of the main greetings is a thank you, so often you will hear, "Thank you for your work" rather than "Hello, how are you?" People show a lot of appreciation for hard work and work that benefits others. No one will bring up their work or discuss how hard they work, but it is fair game to tell someone they work hard.

Many of the conversations are based on observations or gossip in the village. I was sick for a couple days in November and, even though I never told a single person that I was sick, the entire primary school knew and liked to shout over great distances to me, "STEVE, OLI MALWADDE? MALARIA? STOMACH?" (Steve, are you sick? Do you have malaria? Stomach pain?) So word travels fast in the village and a lot of the conversations seem to do with how individuals are doing. In the village, radios are less common, newspapers are exorbitant (the nearest newspaper is 6km away), so conversations pertain almost exclusively to village matters (with the exception of Obama and a passing awareness of other American themes i.e. Osama Bin Laden - when my beard was bushy, I was referred to as Osama, Iraq, and, oddly, Arnold Schwartzeneger): When does school start? What is the fee? Are the rains early or late? This person passed away. This village beat this one in a football match. It is almost this holiday - we should stockpile some money to buy extra food.

Weather and health come up a lot, since they are pretty big factors in day-to-day life. Weather dictates how crops do, which impacts the food on their tables and the money in their pockets. Malaria and HIV effect just about every family I have met and can be really disruptive. Malaria is easily curable for roughly one dollar and HIV is very treatable if the villager can get to Masaka for treatment ($2 round trip as much as 3-5 times per week), but because of a lack of money or lack of education some people still try to self-treat (basically under-dose in quinine) malaria or cannot make it to Masaka (most people are very afraid to know their HIV status).

Kids

Kids are kids. Kids get excited about toys and games and often times I will hear them pretending to be driving a car, boat, or airplane. They make up silly stories and get excited and upset about silly things. "Kazungu, what's wrong?" "Peter is not playing well and he is jumping up and down too fast and he has two crayons, but I only got one" (probably with tears in his eyes). Everything is a game. If it is time to go fetch water, it is a foot race. If they have a bicycle they see how fast they can go with no brakes and without dying. Kids get excited about almost anything different - if there is a big truck on the dirt road, a plane overhead (this has happened twice that I can remember), a holiday that is approaching, going to school, getting to color, draw, or read are all things that are worth screaming in excitement over.

Older kids talk about studying (often more talk than action) and doing chores (more work than talk) around the house or garden. Older kids generally get mixed up with Arnold Schwartzeneger obsessions and will generally love Manchester United or Arsenal (probably having listened to a game occasionally, but never having seen a match before). If they have a radio, they will often get attached to different Ugandan, American, and British artists.

Becky has hung out with women about our age (low 20s) and told me that it is typical American girl talk - talking about men, hair, media stars, and life events (going to school, work, etc). When I hang out with some of the guys around my age they like to talk about football, namely Manchester United, or making fun of one another for something.

On a more topical note, what if anything, do they do for Christmas in Uganda?

Sorry for the delay in this reply. Holidays, especially Christmas and Eid, everyone gets very excited and talks about it leading up to the holiday. The holiday is celebrated with extended family making the trip from other villages or urban areas and lots of food. Christmas is the day when kids will eat chicken, goat, beef, bread, and drink soda (often all together). If kids get a gift, it is usually shoes, but they are usually reserved for special occasions (midnight mass and subsequent Sundays). John told me that on Christmas many of the kids get stomach aches from eating too much. Meat is pretty atypical in the diet, bread is almost exclusively for Christmas (for villagers), and sodas are also rare.

You never mention them being curious about you ... are they? Do they ask you questions? Plz tell us more about the adults and what they think about things. What do they think about their own prospects and prospects for future generations? How do they feel about all this?????

I think there is a bit of curiosity about the mzungus that dropped in from the United States to live in this particular village to try to be farmers and teachers. Typically I will get asked what I'm doing in Uganda, how long I've been here, how long I'm staying, what I think about Uganda, and then I will be thanked for coming and volunteering. Volunteers are not new to Uganda, so there is some understanding of the concept of strange albino coming to help, but for many this is the first time seeing a white person or hearing American English, so I'd imagine it would be something similar to a Chinese exchange student in a white suburb - a novelty, kind of fun, but you get used to it pretty quickly as this person assimilates.

I don't typically ask about prospects of future generations. Most people do not speak English so it is tough to ask these questions. When I asked about population growth, it is usually treated with some sense of denial (in my view). People are pretty realistic about the environmental and health pressures, but there is not a lot of action from the government to deal with these issues. Most adults have noticed climatic shifts in the length and timing of the rainy season, which is adding increased food pressure (along with decreasing available land) and water.

For the families who have kids in secondary school there is always some urgency to get the school fees for at least some of the kids, probably because they are educated about the challenges the kids face. In the less educated families, education is less of a priority, perhaps because they are less aware of these looming pressures. There is a clear divide - the well educated families have more money to try to keep educating their kids, have fewer kids, have increased awareness of health issues, and usually have a business besides subsistence farming (motorcycle driver, carpenter, shoe repair, wholesale coffee buyer/seller, etc.). The less educated families have more kids, have less understanding of health issues, have less money, and often place less emphasis on education.

I never tell Ugandans that population is expected to double in 20 years, 9 million don't have food as it is, Uganda is becoming increasingly arid, politicians are almost openly corrupt, and that Ugandans don't have decent schools or money for private schools and then say what do you think about that? But I do sense that some people are aware of some of these elements and fight to get kids into schools to help the kids "make it" (which often means going to Kampala). Unfortunately there is a bit of cycling of the families that "make it" and it is very tough for the families who don't have enough to break away from their own poverty.

What is the perception of America? Americans?

America is pretty warmly received - they hear about the terrorist fighting, rich, aid-giving America and it is a kind of characterization they would like to emulate. Most kids want to go to America ("Steve, I want America"). For them, America represents a better, more organized, and comfortable way of life. Ugandans think that Becky and I are ignorant about how to do anything. We have never cooked, cleaned, drove a bicycle, ran (honestly, they are surprised that I can run), or lifted anything. Robots and machines do everything, which I realize is true a lot of the time. We have stoves that are on with the flick of a finger, we have large farming equipment, back-hoes, cement trucks, microwaves, television, and light bulbs.

We live comfortably and everyone wants that. The majority of Americans have good health care. Hagar was talking to a doctor that visited America and his comment was that they don't let people die, "People can't die. They have ambulances and they keep people on life support for DAYS." Hagar didn't have the heart to tell him that some people are kept alive, at great expense, for weeks, months, or years. Even the problems are different - heart disease, cancer, and motor vehicle crashes versus malaria, typhoid, and HIV. At Union, as EMTs, the problem I saw almost every night was...too much alcohol...almost exclusively. That ambulance ride could probably pay a Ugandan's lifetime total for medical costs.

We have public schools that are good and go through secondary school and university is a very real possibility for many Americans. Scholarships are attainable for people who go to public schools. In Uganda, if you went to a public school you likely won't pass exams and you have very little chance of going to secondary school or university.

So Ugandans are loosely aware of all of this. They know we are better off, but maybe don't know the half of the day-to-day comforts we have. They believe we are all ultra-rich, which is relatively true. In all, they like Americans and appreciate our work in Uganda, but more so, they like what America represents and has achieved for its people.