The Ssese Islands

Last Sunday Bry'Chell and I went to the Ssese (pronounced: Say-say) Islands for a little break before Bry'Chell goes back to school. Sr. Elizabeth contacted her youngest brother, Jude, and he arranged for a lodging. Their cousin, Fr. Aloysius, accompanied by Sr. Elizabeth, gave us a ride to the ferry. The islands are located in the northern part of Lake Victoria.

I wanted to go for two reasons. First, monkeys live on the islands. We hadn't seen any and I wanted to see some. We did. Second, I had heard the islands were beautiful. They are.

Jude had asked whether we wanted to stay at an inexpensive place or a more expensive place. This time we went for the cheap place--25,000 Ush a night for the two of us. That's about $12.50 a night. This was for a double room--a double bed and a twin bed with mosquito netting and a bathroom, although no running water. However, we were provided with jerry cans of water and warm water for bathing. Although there was a shower head, with no running water we bathed in a large basin (think large plastic dish pan.)

The room was clean. It was small. We had electricity every night from 7:30 PM to about 10 PM. There was a kerosene lantern in the room, but we brought a battery powered one, so we didn't use the kerosene one.

Before we went, I told Bry'Chell to think of this as camping. For camping it was pretty luxurious. For a hotel, it was basic, although I've stayed in worse. Jude bargained some to get the local price for us. I am grateful he did.

Jude picked us up from the ferry on his motorcycle and had another boda-boda there to take the other one of us. Bry'Chell has always said she would never ride a boda-boda, but she did when she had no other choice and she had a great time. She did hold on for dear life, but she was grinning the whole time. There's not much traffic on the island, so it's a good place to ride a boda-boda, if you have no other choice.

There's a lot more to write about, but it's time to braid Bry'Chell's hair. I want to do a nice job since she goes back to school on Monday--after a two month vacation for Christmas. (It wasn't that much of a vacation since she had to do American History and math almost everyday.)

Richard and the Chicken

Last week Joyce was over for her daily computer practice when Richard, the gardener, came to the door and asked me, through Joyce, if I liked "hens." I translated "hens" as chicken and after clarifying that he was referring to eating them, not having one as a pet. I said that sure, I liked chicken.

In the back of my mind this little alarm sounded. While I like to eat chicken I do not feel the personal need to slaughter and pluck said chicken. I think I could do it. I don't have a hatchet or a machete, which would make it pretty difficult, but I know the basic process. Without going into details, let's just say I've seen my mom take a duck from the walking and talking stage to the dinner stage.

Sure enough, on Saturday, Richard shows up with a chicken--still alive. He was holding it upside down by its feet. He offered to sell it to me for 2,000 Ush, about a dollar. I told him I'd give him 5,000 shillings if he would take it and returned it dressed--as in dead and plucked.

He took the money and I will undoubtedly see the chicken one of these days--minus feathers and head.

Bry'Chell is not used to having such a close relationship with her dinner. This is very different from buying a plastic wrapped package at Jewel. However, I suspect she will entertain some of her Chicago friends with stories about food and how we get it.

Exam Time

Even in Uganda, some things about life at a university cross cultures. Exams for one. Thursday evening I gave my first final exam. The process was a bit more formal than my CSU experience, but it's basically the same.

Well, one thing that's really different is that the exam counts for half the student's grade. It's the school, maybe even the national policy. That part I don't care for, but it's outside of my control. The exam is three hours long as opposed to the two hours at CSU. I basically gave the same type of test, although I did add an extra essay question. The students tend to write VERY long essays.

The students had to show their validated registration and their picture ID to take the test. The campus administrator came around to check each one. It was interesting to say the least. By the end of the semester I figure I know my students, so I wasn't worried about someone sitting in for a real student. I'm not great with names, but I know faces.

Being my usual self, I also spent the last week and a half correcting all the assignments, or at least most of the assignments, from the semester. Some day I have to learn to correct as I go along. It's a much better practice. I was able to return all the assignments before the exam. That was a good thing.

I'm in the middle of correcting the final exams in their official booklets which are kept on file for several years. Can you imagine CSU keeping all the students' final exams on file for any length of time, let alone several years? I can't. It seems a bit over the top. Oh well, they certainly take this test stuff seriously.

Stupid as Papyrus

Yesterday as we were on our way to Kampala for some needed grocery shopping and a meeting, I saw a patch of fire-blackened papyrus stubs. I was reminded of a saying I heard a couple of months ago. One of the priests used the phrase "stupid as papyrus" in his homily. Everybody laughed. I didn't get it, not at all.

Later Modest explained to me that sometimes when the wind blows through thick patches of papyrus in the swamp the friction of the papyrus stalks rubbing against each other sets the papyrus on fire. The papyrus is standing in the water of the swamp, but it burns anyway. It can't make use of the water to put out the fire. Hence the saying, "stupid as papyrus."

The traditional belief is that the local gods are upset--with the people or whatever--and set the papyrus on fire as a way of showing their displeasure. This explanation still works for some folks. Sounds just about as good as friction.

School Fees

On the last Sunday before we left Chicago the people of St. Ailbe sent us on our way with their blessings. In addition to their blessings, many people handed me cash. By the time we arrived home, I realized there was quite a bit of money stuffed my pockets. Some people gave me directions for using the money, others just handed me bills.

One of the biggest needs in this part of Uganda, and maybe the whole country, I'm not sure, is paying school fees. While supposedly there are free government-supported schools, most of the schools require payment of school fees. Even the government-supported schools have some costs for uniforms and such.

While people here are poor for the most part, their poverty is more about a lack of cash than a lack of food. Local folks are mostly farmers, subsistence farmers, but farmers who grow food. The climate is generally cooperative--warm weather year round with adequate rainfall in this part of the country. Their tool for farming is a hoe. No tractors. No plows. A hoe. They grow bananas, pineapple, avocados, maize (corn), beans, cassava, sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes, mangoes, cabbage, and tomatoes. There's probably other stuff as well, but these are the basics. Bananas are by far the largest crop. Matooke, made with those bananas, is the staple food. There are all kinds of scrawny chickens running around and cute goats tied to the roadside that serve as meat. While the diets of the poorest may not be balanced, there is generally enough food for survival and even health.

What people lack is cash. This makes the payment of school fees a challenge. Those who are better off will sell some goats or a cow and use the profits to pay their children's school fees. Those who have nothing to sell, well, their children often stay at home and work.

Supposedly there is universal primary education, but many children don't make it through primary. They have to work. For those who do graduate from primary and pass the government exams, there is no guarantee of secondary school. High school is not free.

The free schools are often not the best schools. They seldom have books. The children take notes. The classrooms are crowded--often over 90 children in a primary class. The government made a move (I don't know if it's a law or a policy) to set a MINIMUM class size of 35 children. The purpose is to cram as many kids a possible into a school. Even with all this, only 48% of the children graduate from 7th grade, the final grade here in primary school.

Here's the connection, I've used the cash people gave me to pay school fees for kids who could not otherwise attend school. Bry'Chell's school fees are reimbursed by the Fulbright Program, so the US government is paying for her schooling.

School fees aren't that much. The best primary school in the area, St. Patrick, charges 45,000 Ugandan Schillings a term. The school year is composed of three terms, that's 135,000 schillings for the year, about $72 for the whole year. I'm paying for about four kids right now. I say about four because for one girl, I'm paying half. Her family is poor, but her father works and has some cash income. However, there are six children, so schools fees for all of them are difficult to come by.

I've tried to be a good steward with the money people gave me. From my perspective, education is the best investment to make in the country. I can't do everything, and I've turned down more children than I've helped. But these four girls have another year of education because of the generosity of the people of St. Ailbe.

Thank you to all those who handed me cash. I've tried to put it to good use.

Anniversaries, Vows, Jubilees, and Meeting the President

Today started off way too early. Bry'Chell and I were up at 5 AM so we could leave the house by 5:45 AM to catch the 6 AM bus going to Sr. Loretta's Golden Jubilee as a Little Sister of St. Francis of Assisi. It was supposed to be a four hour drive each way.

As might be expected, the bus didn't leave on time and it broke down in Kampala. However, in true Ugandan fashion, the mechanic fixed it on the spot and we were back on the road in 40 minutes, arriving only 30 minutes late. We arrived in time for the first reading of the liturgy. I'm told we missed some pre-mass dancing and all the bishops processing in. Oh well.

There was a significant police and military presence at the event since the president of Uganda was expected. They confiscated all the cameras as we were entering. I did not relinquish mine to the military guy, but I did give it to one of the sisters. The military and police are notoriously corrupt around here and I wanted to see my camera again. I trust the sisters, not the soldiers. I got my camera back.

It turns out that the celebration was not just for the jubilarians. It was also vows. Eight sisters took first vows and seven made perpetual vows. Of course, that's in addition to the seven who took first vows and the five to professed perpetual vows in December. There are lots of sisters in this country.

The Little Sisters of St. Francis of Assisi have been around for 85 years. They do a lot in the country--and all of East Africa. They have hospitals, schools and they work as social workers. There are all kinds of jokes that the little sisters aren't so little because they run so much stuff.

Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of the actual celebration because I didn't have my camera. I did get a picture with Sr. Loretta. I'll try to get it posted.

The liturgy was engaging. The choir was quite good and the sisters did some dancing at Offertory time. As are many celebrations here, it was outdoors. Why not? The weather was beautiful and the community chapel would not have held the crowd, so there were tents set up outside. I was escorted to a seat with a good view while Bry'Chell was left in the back. I could see which was an advantage, but I was also in the sun, so I got a bit burned--even with sunscreen. Bry'Chell couldn't see much of the action, but at least she was in the shade.

The archbishop seems like a nice guy, but he preached too long. I have it from several people that it was a great time for a nap. However, I sort of stand out in a Ugandan crowd, so I really couldn't doze.

The president showed up after the bishop's homily. Smart man. Although he had an entourage, as might be expected for the president of the country, he walked right by me on his way in and again on his way out, when he walked over and shook my hand. He asked me where I was from--I said the US, Chicago. He seemed impressed with Chicago. I really don't know why, unless it relates to all the media about Obama and Chicago. Actually, Chicago and Uganda are similar in many ways. In both places the real work gets done right before the election. If you want a road fixed or a pothole filled, election year is the time it will get done.

Turns out the president was invited by one of the Silver Jubilarians whose father helped out the president in the days before he was president and was fighting to overthrow Edi Amin. Don't get the idea that this president is any kind of saint. Let's just say his record is a bit checkered. As a guest in the country, I don't want to add much more.

After the celebration the sisters fed us. Religious from "other congregations" were fed with the priests. I was standing in line when this priest walks up and says--"Don't I know you from Chicago?"

If he knew I was from Chicago, he probably did know me. He did. Turns out he was one of the priests who came over to my house that fateful day to talk me into going to Uganda. He still had a picture on his camera of me and the group of priests. It was pretty funny. I'm sitting Uganda eating lunch looking at a picture of my living room in Chicago on someone else's camera. Too weird.

Today is the ninth anniversary of Judy Shanahan's death. I couldn't help thinking how much she would have enjoyed today. I suspect from her viewpoint, she's watching and enjoying all the action.

The Introduction Ceremony

Last Saturday Fr. Henry asked Bry'Chell and me if we wanted to go to an Introduction Ceremony. Sure, why not. The opportunity to witness an Introduction Ceremony is not an easy invitation to come by.

An Introduction Ceremony is the Traditional Buganda ceremony where the groom-to-be is introduced to the family of the bride-to-be. In the past this would have actually been the wedding. Once the guy was accepted by the bride's family and paid the bride price, (Yes, he paid for his wife!) they were married. Now it's more like the official engagement.

As with many things, it started off simply. Originally, the guy showed up with a few male relatives at the girl's house. (I say girl, not woman, because the bride was a girl, seldom a grown woman.) A friend or male relative spoke for him. The guy was mixed in with the other male relatives. The girl's aunt (her father's oldest sister) had to figure out which one was the husband-to-be. Once she identified him and said that he was OK, the guy paid the bride price and that was pretty much it. They gave gifts and had a meal to celebrate.

This was the Introduction Ceremony of Julie, the niece of Fr. Larry, a guy who went to St. John's Camarillo with Henry. Her fiance, Peter, was looking shy and nervous the whole time. They're both banker types.

Now, of course, the ceremony is much more elaborate. Each side has someone who speaks for their family. The girl's aunt still has to find the guy and the guy is still mixed in with a crowd of male friends and relatives. Now, however, there tend to be many more people involved. At this ceremony there were about eighty guests on the man's side--and about 150 on the woman's side.

There was a bunch of dancing--as in groups performing traditional dances. This was interspersed with commentary by the spokespersons from each family. Most of it I couldn't follow because it was in Luganda. The speaker for Peter's side was funny, even when I couldn't understand a word he was saying, he was funny. His humor was very physical, so words seemed superfluous.

Once the dancing was finished, groups of female relatives started processing out, some pretended to be the aunt until the real aunt arrived and picked out the guy. Some were aunts, just not the right one. This whole process took a couple of hours.

Finally the aunt came out. There were a bunch of questions and she went and found Peter. He came and sat in the front and the two commentators discussed his suitability. After deciding he was OK, Peter's sister gave the care of her brother to Julie. Now it was Julie's job to take care of Peter.

After the introduction, Peter's family started lining up to bring in the gifts--and what a line that was. There were probably a hundred or more baskets that were brought in procession. This was followed by a dining room set and a bicycle. The baskets contained food--fruit and vegetables-- and, of course, a few live chickens, a couple of goats and a butchered cow. Cases of pop and beer were also carried in. I have all kinds of pictures, but I haven't had much luck in uploading pictures lately. I've been trying to get pictures of Christmas and the Martyrs' shrine loaded for days now without any luck. I'll keep trying because words fail to convey the sheer amount of gifts that were carried in.

Pretty much everyone (except for Bry'Chell and me) were in traditional Buganda dress. I've already talked about the women's dress. The men were in a robe and a suit jacket. All the robes were about the same. They looked sort of like an alb with some embroidery in the front. Again, I have pictures. I'll try again to get them loaded.

The whole thing ended with a meal, but we had to leave so we wouldn't be out on the road too late. The roads are bad enough during the day, they're worse at night. It's better to get home early. Since the ceremony was in Kampala, that meant a two hour drive back to Nkozi.