Speaks for itself and is much better without a caption. Click to enlarge.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, April 04, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
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."
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."
Friday, March 06, 2009
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.
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.
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