In less than 24 hours we'll be on a plane heading back to Chicago. It seems weird that the year is almost over.
We've had a lot of good-byes the past few days, a whole lot today. I gave the homily (OK, reflections) at mass this morning. I couldn't believe the number of people who came up to me or came by the house to say they would miss me and Bry'Chell.
All the visitors have made it difficult to get any work done--including grades and packing. I hope we'll be able to wrap everything up in time. Of course, we don't have much choice. It will get done. I just hope it gets done well.
Uganda, or at least Nkozi, has become home. I can't even walk to the trading center without seeing familiar faces. We will miss the people who have become our friends. We will miss the life we have here. We will miss the beauty of the countryside.
It's hard to leave.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Last Class
Thursday evening was the last class and final exam for Social Work Practice. The pace of the class has been a bit hectic. It was an intensive that met twice a week, three and a half hours for seven weeks. If I had taught the course before it might have been OK. I know the subject matter, but have not taught the course. It was intense to try to get power point presentations and lectures ready twice a week for a class that meets for three and a half hours while still wrapping up stuff from the previous semester since there was no time between the end of one term and the beginning of the other.
Even though I know some of the students have been frustrated, they have been good sports about the intense schedule.
Last night they gave me gifts--a very cool Ugandan outfit and a carved map of Uganda. I will cherish both, more because of the thought and sacrifice that went into the gifts. I took a bunch of pictures of the students and will post them when I have a faster internet connection--like the day after we catch up on our sleep once we get to Chicago.
One of my students, Sarah, was a bit distracted during the exam. She told me that her fourteen month old daughter was in the hospital. The doctor is concerned that the little one might have meningitis. Please keep the baby in your prayers.
Well, we're in the middle of packing and a bit crazed.
Even though I know some of the students have been frustrated, they have been good sports about the intense schedule.
Last night they gave me gifts--a very cool Ugandan outfit and a carved map of Uganda. I will cherish both, more because of the thought and sacrifice that went into the gifts. I took a bunch of pictures of the students and will post them when I have a faster internet connection--like the day after we catch up on our sleep once we get to Chicago.
One of my students, Sarah, was a bit distracted during the exam. She told me that her fourteen month old daughter was in the hospital. The doctor is concerned that the little one might have meningitis. Please keep the baby in your prayers.
Well, we're in the middle of packing and a bit crazed.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Posta Uganda
Yesterday I went to the main Uganda Post Office to mail some drums to the US. I'm mailing them to the Woods rather than Chicago since that's where I'll be when they're expected to arrive.
At home, although I really like our local mail carrier, I do not like the post office in Chicago. At best you get indifference, at worst gross rudeness. The latter is more common than the former.
I was not anticipating a good experience at the Uganda Post Office. Was I ever wrong. At first we (Paul, my driver, and I) went to the wrong place. The main post office is a large complex with many entrances, each providing a different service. However, the clerk at the Information Desk, quickly and efficiently pointed me to the right place. ("Stand right here, look straight ahead. Do you see the letters EMS? Go through that door and turn right. That's it.")
The parking lot by the EMS office, where you mail packages and stuff, is small, but the guards were friendly and helpful. They were directing traffic to make the most of the space. Paul got us in and we unloaded the crates with the drums.
The evening before, the carpenters on campus had built three sturdy crates to hold the drums. It was all scrap lumber, but they're solid. I'm sure they'll protect the drums.
On inside, a couple of guys decided that the crates needed to be tied up with string, which they did with string they provided. Walter, the supervisor, provided forms and a pen. I filled out the forms, he checked them, let me know what was missing and walked me through the whole process. He weighed the crates, let me behind the counter to actually see the weight, and put me in line to wait for the clerk to take my payment. Walter even gave me his card with his email so he could follow up the tracking to make sure the drums get home.
The entertaining caveat was standing behind a university student, also mailing drums to her mother who is a social worker in Norway. She is finishing up a year as an exchange student at Makerere University. Ordinarily she attends University of Bergen at home.
All in all, it was a good experience at less than half the price of FedEx, even less than the cost of carrying them with us on the plane.
Hurray for Posta Uganda!
At home, although I really like our local mail carrier, I do not like the post office in Chicago. At best you get indifference, at worst gross rudeness. The latter is more common than the former.
I was not anticipating a good experience at the Uganda Post Office. Was I ever wrong. At first we (Paul, my driver, and I) went to the wrong place. The main post office is a large complex with many entrances, each providing a different service. However, the clerk at the Information Desk, quickly and efficiently pointed me to the right place. ("Stand right here, look straight ahead. Do you see the letters EMS? Go through that door and turn right. That's it.")
The parking lot by the EMS office, where you mail packages and stuff, is small, but the guards were friendly and helpful. They were directing traffic to make the most of the space. Paul got us in and we unloaded the crates with the drums.
The evening before, the carpenters on campus had built three sturdy crates to hold the drums. It was all scrap lumber, but they're solid. I'm sure they'll protect the drums.
On inside, a couple of guys decided that the crates needed to be tied up with string, which they did with string they provided. Walter, the supervisor, provided forms and a pen. I filled out the forms, he checked them, let me know what was missing and walked me through the whole process. He weighed the crates, let me behind the counter to actually see the weight, and put me in line to wait for the clerk to take my payment. Walter even gave me his card with his email so he could follow up the tracking to make sure the drums get home.
The entertaining caveat was standing behind a university student, also mailing drums to her mother who is a social worker in Norway. She is finishing up a year as an exchange student at Makerere University. Ordinarily she attends University of Bergen at home.
All in all, it was a good experience at less than half the price of FedEx, even less than the cost of carrying them with us on the plane.
Hurray for Posta Uganda!
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
The Last Time
These days I find myself saying things like, "This is the last time we'll be riding our bikes to the Equator."
"This is the last time I'll be going to the American Embassy."
"This is the last time I'll be attending mass in Luganda at the Cathedral."
Sometimes I say it with relief and other times with regret.
"This is the last time I'll be going to the American Embassy."
"This is the last time I'll be attending mass in Luganda at the Cathedral."
Sometimes I say it with relief and other times with regret.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Traveling from Kabale to Nkozi
Bry'Chell and I are getting pretty good at public transportation. Not pros or anything, but we can get from one place to another without totally freaking out.
Sunday we left Lake Bunyoni to go to church in Kabale. We had the same driver who brought us there pick us up and take us to church. I had forgotten it was the feast of Corpus Christi. Here that means a procession. A procession means the next mass starts late, like half an hour late. No sense getting upset about it. It's not going to change anything.
We cooled out heals with the rest of the crowd outside of the church.
Mass finally let out and we went in. This was the English mass which meant the mass was said in English but all the music was still in the local language. That was OK. Even if we don't quite know all the words, we're pretty familiar with most of the local music.
After mass Dennis, our driver, came and took us to the taxi park to catch the bus. As we got out of the car we were mobbed with guys trying to get us to take their bus, the one each of them was selling tickets to board. I told them to back off. I would choose the bus I wanted. One guy tried to take my bag--not as in steal, but as in carry to the bus. I gave him a dirty look and told him to take his hands off my bag. He did.
We chose the bus most likely to leave most quickly. This was, of course, the fullest bus, so we didn't sit together, but were across the isle from each other. I shared my seat with two guys. Somehow guys seem to think they deserve more space than women. I figured I paid the same price they did and deserved my seat.
After a few stops, things thinned out a bit and Bry'Chell and I could move and find a seat together. We did.
At each stop, vendors would crowd around the windows selling their goods. At most stops, these were food vendors, but some places there were other goodies. At one stop Bry'Chell wanted to buy some roasted bananas. I figured they were potentially among the least harmful food available. I've been warned not to buy the meat on skewers. It smells good, it looks good and most of the time it is good. Occasionally, it's not and that's a bad thing. The best bet is to avoid it. The roasted bananas were good. We had some snacks with us, but they needed some rounding out. The bananas filled the bill.
One of my students was on the bus. It was funny to think you're boarding an anonymous bus only to find it's not as anonymous as I expected.
After about five and a half hours, the bus stopped at Kayawbe and we took boda-bodas to the campus--about three kilometers from Kayawbe. It worked.
Sunday we left Lake Bunyoni to go to church in Kabale. We had the same driver who brought us there pick us up and take us to church. I had forgotten it was the feast of Corpus Christi. Here that means a procession. A procession means the next mass starts late, like half an hour late. No sense getting upset about it. It's not going to change anything.
We cooled out heals with the rest of the crowd outside of the church.
Mass finally let out and we went in. This was the English mass which meant the mass was said in English but all the music was still in the local language. That was OK. Even if we don't quite know all the words, we're pretty familiar with most of the local music.
After mass Dennis, our driver, came and took us to the taxi park to catch the bus. As we got out of the car we were mobbed with guys trying to get us to take their bus, the one each of them was selling tickets to board. I told them to back off. I would choose the bus I wanted. One guy tried to take my bag--not as in steal, but as in carry to the bus. I gave him a dirty look and told him to take his hands off my bag. He did.
We chose the bus most likely to leave most quickly. This was, of course, the fullest bus, so we didn't sit together, but were across the isle from each other. I shared my seat with two guys. Somehow guys seem to think they deserve more space than women. I figured I paid the same price they did and deserved my seat.
After a few stops, things thinned out a bit and Bry'Chell and I could move and find a seat together. We did.
At each stop, vendors would crowd around the windows selling their goods. At most stops, these were food vendors, but some places there were other goodies. At one stop Bry'Chell wanted to buy some roasted bananas. I figured they were potentially among the least harmful food available. I've been warned not to buy the meat on skewers. It smells good, it looks good and most of the time it is good. Occasionally, it's not and that's a bad thing. The best bet is to avoid it. The roasted bananas were good. We had some snacks with us, but they needed some rounding out. The bananas filled the bill.
One of my students was on the bus. It was funny to think you're boarding an anonymous bus only to find it's not as anonymous as I expected.
After about five and a half hours, the bus stopped at Kayawbe and we took boda-bodas to the campus--about three kilometers from Kayawbe. It worked.
Saturday at Lake Bunyoni
Saturday was our only full day at Lake Bunyoni and we decided to make the most of it. The lake is a pretty quiet place. Although we heard one party at a nearby resort on Saturday evening, it's not a wild party place. It's more of a peaceful, relaxing place.
I suspect the economic downturn keeps things a bit quiet. There weren't a lot of Mzungus where we stayed at Crater Bay Cottages and Camp. There was an older Austrian couple with their daughter and the daughter's friend. The daughter and friend were working as interns in Kampala and the parents had come for a visit.
There were two Canadian guys, Hershel and Rocky (who also have a blog), from Vets without Borders who were in Uganda for a few months working to vaccinate goats and help orphans raise goats. They are both just out of vet school and decided to do some volunteer work, even with their student loans hanging over their heads. They were pretty entertaining. Rocky was down most of the time with a stomach virus--he probably ate something he shouldn't have.
Saturday morning we arranged for a guide and a dugout canoe to go for a spin in the lake. Hershel came with us since Rocky was down for the count. (Sorry for the pun.) I had thought about going out on our own, but dugouts didn't look quite like the canoes I know how to navigate. It turned out the paddles were about three times as heavy as the ones I know. I was impressed when we were handed life jackets and the guide put on one as well. Safety impresses me in a country where the boda-boda drivers generally don't wear helmets outside of Kampala.
We took a spin around the lake--a very slow, peaceful spin. We stopped at Bushara Island where the Church of Uganda (Anglicans) run a camp. I was impressed with their commitment to sustainable development--their tree planting projects, hiring local folks and support of local crafts. Bry'Chell and I each bought a hat. They may not be winter hats for Chicago, but they will help in the fall and spring.
We paddled past Punishment Island where unmarried pregnant women were sent to die. The guide book says that many women died trying to swim back to shore, however, Fr. Max told us that men would go at night to get the women from the island. A woman from Punishment Island was a free wife in the days of bride price and all that. A poor man could get a free wife. Probabaly better than dying.
I learned later that June, July, and August are the dry months in the area. The winds kick up on the lake which makes paddling a bit more difficult. I paddled in worse waves in the Boundary Waters, but I don't know the dugout canoes. The canoe we were in was very stable. We were safe.
We came back and had lunch. Our cabin was right on the lake. I wanted to hike up to the top of the hill so I could get some pictures of the whole lake. We started off following the road, but ran into the manager of Crater Bay Cottages. He pointed out a trail that went straight up the hill. It was a lot faster. Bry'Chell pooped out about halfway up. Well, she didn't really poop out, she can run me into the ground. It was more that she was concerned about getting down without breaking her neck--the trail was steep in places. I figured people climbed this everyday and I would be just fine.
As we were hiking up the hill we ran into three little girls. At first they ran away shouting "Mzungu", but curiosity brought them back. They were carrying dolls made out of grass. They were cute--the girls and the dolls. Their babies meant as much to them as American Girl dolls mean to their American counterparts. I took a couple of pictures.
Further up the hill, after I left Bry'Chell, I ran into another couple of kids--a boy about seven and a girl about three. The boy was a great guide. He kept pointing out and naming the islands. He told me there are 29 in all. I forget how many are inhabited, but additional ones are used for cultivation even if no one lives on them.
The view was breath taking. It was worth the climb.
I climbed back down, left my guide when his mother called him, and I found Bry'Chell. We walked down the rest of the trail. Near the bottom we met an older Ugandan woman wearing a South Dakota t-shirt. I see t-shirts from the strangest places. I was quite taken and told her that my dad was born in South Dakota. She responded, saying, "Well then it is a good place, no?" I told her it was, and refrained from saying it was a good place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.
I suspect the economic downturn keeps things a bit quiet. There weren't a lot of Mzungus where we stayed at Crater Bay Cottages and Camp. There was an older Austrian couple with their daughter and the daughter's friend. The daughter and friend were working as interns in Kampala and the parents had come for a visit.
There were two Canadian guys, Hershel and Rocky (who also have a blog), from Vets without Borders who were in Uganda for a few months working to vaccinate goats and help orphans raise goats. They are both just out of vet school and decided to do some volunteer work, even with their student loans hanging over their heads. They were pretty entertaining. Rocky was down most of the time with a stomach virus--he probably ate something he shouldn't have.
Saturday morning we arranged for a guide and a dugout canoe to go for a spin in the lake. Hershel came with us since Rocky was down for the count. (Sorry for the pun.) I had thought about going out on our own, but dugouts didn't look quite like the canoes I know how to navigate. It turned out the paddles were about three times as heavy as the ones I know. I was impressed when we were handed life jackets and the guide put on one as well. Safety impresses me in a country where the boda-boda drivers generally don't wear helmets outside of Kampala.
We took a spin around the lake--a very slow, peaceful spin. We stopped at Bushara Island where the Church of Uganda (Anglicans) run a camp. I was impressed with their commitment to sustainable development--their tree planting projects, hiring local folks and support of local crafts. Bry'Chell and I each bought a hat. They may not be winter hats for Chicago, but they will help in the fall and spring.
We paddled past Punishment Island where unmarried pregnant women were sent to die. The guide book says that many women died trying to swim back to shore, however, Fr. Max told us that men would go at night to get the women from the island. A woman from Punishment Island was a free wife in the days of bride price and all that. A poor man could get a free wife. Probabaly better than dying.
I learned later that June, July, and August are the dry months in the area. The winds kick up on the lake which makes paddling a bit more difficult. I paddled in worse waves in the Boundary Waters, but I don't know the dugout canoes. The canoe we were in was very stable. We were safe.
We came back and had lunch. Our cabin was right on the lake. I wanted to hike up to the top of the hill so I could get some pictures of the whole lake. We started off following the road, but ran into the manager of Crater Bay Cottages. He pointed out a trail that went straight up the hill. It was a lot faster. Bry'Chell pooped out about halfway up. Well, she didn't really poop out, she can run me into the ground. It was more that she was concerned about getting down without breaking her neck--the trail was steep in places. I figured people climbed this everyday and I would be just fine.
As we were hiking up the hill we ran into three little girls. At first they ran away shouting "Mzungu", but curiosity brought them back. They were carrying dolls made out of grass. They were cute--the girls and the dolls. Their babies meant as much to them as American Girl dolls mean to their American counterparts. I took a couple of pictures.
Further up the hill, after I left Bry'Chell, I ran into another couple of kids--a boy about seven and a girl about three. The boy was a great guide. He kept pointing out and naming the islands. He told me there are 29 in all. I forget how many are inhabited, but additional ones are used for cultivation even if no one lives on them.
The view was breath taking. It was worth the climb.
I climbed back down, left my guide when his mother called him, and I found Bry'Chell. We walked down the rest of the trail. Near the bottom we met an older Ugandan woman wearing a South Dakota t-shirt. I see t-shirts from the strangest places. I was quite taken and told her that my dad was born in South Dakota. She responded, saying, "Well then it is a good place, no?" I told her it was, and refrained from saying it was a good place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Lake Bunyoni
Time is getting short. We can't see everything we (or at least I) would like to see, but I wanted to see one more place before we left.
Lake Bunyoni is billed as the most beautiful place in Uganda. With so many beautiful places, that's a difficult measure to meet. I was curious just how beautiful it is.
Beauty is difficult to compare, but Lake Bunyoni is definitely one of the most beautiful places in the country.
Fr. Max was going to Kabale for a meeting on Friday. We went along for the free ride with good company. We left at 5 AM. I'm not by nature an early riser. When I get to bed late, I'm even less of an early riser. However, I was up at 4:15 AM. I woke Bry'Chell at 4:30. We were ready by 5. Max was on time.
It doesn't get light until about 7 AM, so we were well into the trip before the sun came up.
The roads were really bad in places, so it was slow going at times, but the countryside was absolutely gorgeous. We left the green swamp and hilly river lowlands around Nkozi for the high desert/savanah with trees look of the area around Lake Mburro and headed up into the foothills of the Rwenzori mountains, the southern end towards Rwanda.
Bry'Chell either slept or pretended to sleep for a good part of the trip. We stopped for breakfast about 8 and arrived a bit before 11. Max connected us with Sr. Beatrice before he went to his meeting. Sr. Beatrice, in turn, introduced us to Agnes who arranged for a drive and a place to stay.
I love the networks. You never just go some place and find a room. There's always somebody who knows somebody. Personal connections are important here. I find it pretty entertaining.
Our driver, Dennis, took us to Crater Bay Cottages. It was a great place--clean, reasonably priced with very attentive service.
I will say, the beauty of Lake Bunyoni is breathtaking. The drive took us down a winding dirt road. The view of the lake is magnificent. It's a crater lake that meanders through the hills and around the mountains. It's dotted with green islands. Some of the islands are inhabited. Most that are not inhabited are cultivated. They are terraced with crops. A significant effort has been made to plant trees, so many of the islands has patches of woods between the fields.
Every picture could be a postcard. The only problem with pictures is that they don't provide the sense of panorama that the human eye can take in.
We were pretty tired when we arrived so we crashed for a bit then we went down to the dock to check out the lake. We didn't bring our suits, so we had an excuse for not going in. It was a bit cold for my taste.
That first night we literally ate dinner and went to bed. We were whipped.
Lake Bunyoni is billed as the most beautiful place in Uganda. With so many beautiful places, that's a difficult measure to meet. I was curious just how beautiful it is.
Beauty is difficult to compare, but Lake Bunyoni is definitely one of the most beautiful places in the country.
Fr. Max was going to Kabale for a meeting on Friday. We went along for the free ride with good company. We left at 5 AM. I'm not by nature an early riser. When I get to bed late, I'm even less of an early riser. However, I was up at 4:15 AM. I woke Bry'Chell at 4:30. We were ready by 5. Max was on time.
It doesn't get light until about 7 AM, so we were well into the trip before the sun came up.
The roads were really bad in places, so it was slow going at times, but the countryside was absolutely gorgeous. We left the green swamp and hilly river lowlands around Nkozi for the high desert/savanah with trees look of the area around Lake Mburro and headed up into the foothills of the Rwenzori mountains, the southern end towards Rwanda.
Bry'Chell either slept or pretended to sleep for a good part of the trip. We stopped for breakfast about 8 and arrived a bit before 11. Max connected us with Sr. Beatrice before he went to his meeting. Sr. Beatrice, in turn, introduced us to Agnes who arranged for a drive and a place to stay.
I love the networks. You never just go some place and find a room. There's always somebody who knows somebody. Personal connections are important here. I find it pretty entertaining.
Our driver, Dennis, took us to Crater Bay Cottages. It was a great place--clean, reasonably priced with very attentive service.
I will say, the beauty of Lake Bunyoni is breathtaking. The drive took us down a winding dirt road. The view of the lake is magnificent. It's a crater lake that meanders through the hills and around the mountains. It's dotted with green islands. Some of the islands are inhabited. Most that are not inhabited are cultivated. They are terraced with crops. A significant effort has been made to plant trees, so many of the islands has patches of woods between the fields.
Every picture could be a postcard. The only problem with pictures is that they don't provide the sense of panorama that the human eye can take in.
We were pretty tired when we arrived so we crashed for a bit then we went down to the dock to check out the lake. We didn't bring our suits, so we had an excuse for not going in. It was a bit cold for my taste.
That first night we literally ate dinner and went to bed. We were whipped.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Two Weeks and Counting
The countdown has begun. It's hard to believe, but we leave Uganda two weeks from today. Assuming all goes as planned, we'll be home in fifteen days.
Over the weekend we started some serious packing. We made our last trip to the equator for gifts which are now mostly packed.
It's more difficult to pack from this end. In Chicago, we packed most of our clothes well ahead of time and just wore other clothes. This time, the clothes we are packing are all the clothes we have. Some clothes we are giving away, but others we need for home. (It's hard to find jeans that fit Bry'Chell--she's thin and long legged.) Either way, we still have two weeks of wearing to do before the clothes can be packed.
While we are leaving many things here that we brought, we still have a lot of luggage. Fortunately, one of the things we are leaving is most of the books. They're heavy and would cost a fortune to ship. The Federal Government helps us ship them over here, but not home. It's not big deal because the reason we brought them was to leave them. The head librarian came over this morning to get the books. She was glad to see them. I'm hoping they provide some basis for the social science programs.
We're also leaving linens--sheets and towels. I brought some that have seen better days, although they are perfectly good. I will give them to St. Mary's Secondary School. Sr. Sanyu has many students who are orphans and show up without the necessary supplies. I know she'll put them to good use.
We've also used up a lot of stuff--toothpaste, shampoo, lotion, insect repellent, sunscreen and other personal type items. That's less to take back.
The only additional stuff we have is gifts. So far we have one footlocker full of gifts. Most of them aren't that big, but we have a lot of people to remember.
Hopefully, we will travel back with less than we had when we arrived. My goal is eight pieces of luggage. We arrived with thirteen pieces of luggage plus the four boxes of books we shipped.
Over the weekend we started some serious packing. We made our last trip to the equator for gifts which are now mostly packed.
It's more difficult to pack from this end. In Chicago, we packed most of our clothes well ahead of time and just wore other clothes. This time, the clothes we are packing are all the clothes we have. Some clothes we are giving away, but others we need for home. (It's hard to find jeans that fit Bry'Chell--she's thin and long legged.) Either way, we still have two weeks of wearing to do before the clothes can be packed.
While we are leaving many things here that we brought, we still have a lot of luggage. Fortunately, one of the things we are leaving is most of the books. They're heavy and would cost a fortune to ship. The Federal Government helps us ship them over here, but not home. It's not big deal because the reason we brought them was to leave them. The head librarian came over this morning to get the books. She was glad to see them. I'm hoping they provide some basis for the social science programs.
We're also leaving linens--sheets and towels. I brought some that have seen better days, although they are perfectly good. I will give them to St. Mary's Secondary School. Sr. Sanyu has many students who are orphans and show up without the necessary supplies. I know she'll put them to good use.
We've also used up a lot of stuff--toothpaste, shampoo, lotion, insect repellent, sunscreen and other personal type items. That's less to take back.
The only additional stuff we have is gifts. So far we have one footlocker full of gifts. Most of them aren't that big, but we have a lot of people to remember.
Hopefully, we will travel back with less than we had when we arrived. My goal is eight pieces of luggage. We arrived with thirteen pieces of luggage plus the four boxes of books we shipped.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Real Chocolate Chip Cookies
On Thursday, as I was walking over to catch the UMU bus for the trip to Rubaga, I ran into Emma Fineblit. Emma's a student here on an exchange program of some type. I don't know the details, but I was in touch with her mom when the VC asked me to reassure her that Uganda is really a safe place. Since I know my folks had some misgivings early on, I understood and sent Emma's mom an email.
Emma and I say hi every now and then. She fits right in with the students and seems to be having a good time.
Anyway, it seems that Emma's aunt read in the blog that we don't have chocolate chips here and brought Emma some. Emma gave them to me and Bry'Chell and I mixed up a double batch of chocolate chip cookies today. We haven't finished baking them, but we've made three trays full. They're just about gone.
Sr. Elizabeth had a few--she took two home for her niece. Maria came over for a little tutoring (she finally said her multiplication tables correctly--hurray) she ate some and I sent her home with some cookies--two for her, two for her sister, Joyce, and two for her mom. Maria tried to convince me that the cookies should all be for her--one for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. I remained unconvinced and told her to be sure to give them to Joyce and her mom. She will, but only because she knows that Joyce with talk to me and will be very unhappy if she finds out Maria ate all the cookies.
The next two trays of cookies have serious dents where Bry'Chell and I indulged. We rode to the equator and back this afternoon, so we can afford a few cookies. Bry'Chell can always afford a few cookies.
Bry'Chell will take some to school tomorrow to share with her friends. They have developed a taste for American cookies. These will top the charts.
Chocolate chip cookies are pretty wonderful. A taste of home before we actually get there. Thanks, Emma's aunt. I hope you read this.
Emma and I say hi every now and then. She fits right in with the students and seems to be having a good time.
Anyway, it seems that Emma's aunt read in the blog that we don't have chocolate chips here and brought Emma some. Emma gave them to me and Bry'Chell and I mixed up a double batch of chocolate chip cookies today. We haven't finished baking them, but we've made three trays full. They're just about gone.
Sr. Elizabeth had a few--she took two home for her niece. Maria came over for a little tutoring (she finally said her multiplication tables correctly--hurray) she ate some and I sent her home with some cookies--two for her, two for her sister, Joyce, and two for her mom. Maria tried to convince me that the cookies should all be for her--one for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. I remained unconvinced and told her to be sure to give them to Joyce and her mom. She will, but only because she knows that Joyce with talk to me and will be very unhappy if she finds out Maria ate all the cookies.
The next two trays of cookies have serious dents where Bry'Chell and I indulged. We rode to the equator and back this afternoon, so we can afford a few cookies. Bry'Chell can always afford a few cookies.
Bry'Chell will take some to school tomorrow to share with her friends. They have developed a taste for American cookies. These will top the charts.
Chocolate chip cookies are pretty wonderful. A taste of home before we actually get there. Thanks, Emma's aunt. I hope you read this.
Pumpkins
This seems to be the season for pumpkins here. Pumpkin is usually available, but I haven't bothered to buy one to eat. This past week, however, people have given me two. Don't think huge Halloween Jack-O-Lantern-type pumpkins. Think small, even oblong green pumpkins. Think about pumpkins that actually taste good.
Bry'Chell loves pumpkin. When I'm gone teaching, she will actually steam a piece of pumpkin in the microwave to eat for dinner. That's about the only vegetable she goes out of her way to eat.
We had an early dinner this evening. One of Bry'Chell's classmates, Sylvia, was over. I asked her if she wanted to stay for supper. It wasn't fancy, just rice and beans and pumpkin. Sylvia stayed for the meal. I had to cut the two pieces of pumpkin into four pieces. They were generous-sized pieces before, so they were still more than adequate cut in half. Of course, that left one extra piece which Bry'Chell scored at the first opportune moment.
Bry'Chell and I were talking about how much better the pumpkin tastes here than at home. Sylvia observed that maybe the soil in Uganda is better. Since most kids take agriculture, not to mention actually work on the family plot, they have some clue about how food grows.
Bry'Chell and I looked at each other. How do you explain, that no, our soil is fine, our country grows pumpkin mostly to observe an annual ritual where we carve up what could be perfectly good food and turn them into ghoulish, candle-lit apparitions for the night?
How do you explain Halloween? Here Halloween is the eve before All Saints Day. Nothing more.
What do you say to help someone understand that a whole industry is built around carving up pumpkins and giving out candy? What's more, the pumpkins aren't even that good to eat. Actually, they're OK, I may be the only person on the south side of Chicago who actually peels and cooks my Jack-O-Lantern after Halloween is over. I put the puree in the freezer and we eat it all year. While we like it, Ugandan pumpkin is way better--sweeter and more flavorful.
Honestly, which society appears more advanced--the one who grows healthy food to eat or the one that grows large gourds for the purpose of carving them with scary faces once a year?
Go figure.
Bry'Chell loves pumpkin. When I'm gone teaching, she will actually steam a piece of pumpkin in the microwave to eat for dinner. That's about the only vegetable she goes out of her way to eat.
We had an early dinner this evening. One of Bry'Chell's classmates, Sylvia, was over. I asked her if she wanted to stay for supper. It wasn't fancy, just rice and beans and pumpkin. Sylvia stayed for the meal. I had to cut the two pieces of pumpkin into four pieces. They were generous-sized pieces before, so they were still more than adequate cut in half. Of course, that left one extra piece which Bry'Chell scored at the first opportune moment.
Bry'Chell and I were talking about how much better the pumpkin tastes here than at home. Sylvia observed that maybe the soil in Uganda is better. Since most kids take agriculture, not to mention actually work on the family plot, they have some clue about how food grows.
Bry'Chell and I looked at each other. How do you explain, that no, our soil is fine, our country grows pumpkin mostly to observe an annual ritual where we carve up what could be perfectly good food and turn them into ghoulish, candle-lit apparitions for the night?
How do you explain Halloween? Here Halloween is the eve before All Saints Day. Nothing more.
What do you say to help someone understand that a whole industry is built around carving up pumpkins and giving out candy? What's more, the pumpkins aren't even that good to eat. Actually, they're OK, I may be the only person on the south side of Chicago who actually peels and cooks my Jack-O-Lantern after Halloween is over. I put the puree in the freezer and we eat it all year. While we like it, Ugandan pumpkin is way better--sweeter and more flavorful.
Honestly, which society appears more advanced--the one who grows healthy food to eat or the one that grows large gourds for the purpose of carving them with scary faces once a year?
Go figure.
Friday, June 5, 2009
The Trip Back from Jinga
Sunday Bry'Chell and I returned from Jinga. We did it all by ourselves--no driver, no UMU coach, just us. Well, that's not entirely true, we did hire a driver to get from the place we were staying to the taxi park in Jinga.
From the taxi park we caught a coaster to Kampala. By this time we were hungry so we walked over to Shop Rite and had a hamburger at Mr. Tasty. It wasn't really that great. We found a bathroom and walked back to the taxi park.
It took us a while to find the right bus, but we found a bus to Masaka that would drop us at Kayabwe. This wasn't a coaster, it was actually a coach bus, but it had seen better days. I've since been told that Gaso--the company name on the bus--is not the most dependable.
Waiting wasn't as much fun this time. The windows on the bus are higher than those on the coaster, so it's not a convenient for the vendors to come by the window. Since we were off in a corner, it wasn't as central for the vendors.
However, the vendors did come inside the bus. They were squeezing past each other in the isle to try and sell us everything from food to undershirts. They didn't have Bry'Chell's favorite, rings. Well, we did find a couple of vendors with rings, but they weren't the type Bry'Chell, the queen of cheap jewelry, wanted. (Actually, she would be the queen of expensive jewelry if I let her.)
The bus finally filled up and we were on our way. For a while. The bus died about 30 minutes outside of Kampala. The driver assured us that we would be on our way shortly. I've experienced similar events, so I decided to sit tight and wait. I didn't exactly sit, I went outside to get some fresh air.
We waited and we waited. Several people were getting restless. It started raining, so I figured just sit and wait for a while. The rain let up. Finally, Bry'Chell said it was time to find another ride. I figured she was right, so we got off the bus. In less than five minutes a half-full coaster--a nice new one--came by and offered us a ride. We had to pay again, but with both fares, it was still cheaper than taking the Metra to downtown Chicago.
The coaster dropped us off at Kayawbe and we caught boda-bodas up to Nkozi. All in all, I felt it was a pretty successful trip.
From the taxi park we caught a coaster to Kampala. By this time we were hungry so we walked over to Shop Rite and had a hamburger at Mr. Tasty. It wasn't really that great. We found a bathroom and walked back to the taxi park.
It took us a while to find the right bus, but we found a bus to Masaka that would drop us at Kayabwe. This wasn't a coaster, it was actually a coach bus, but it had seen better days. I've since been told that Gaso--the company name on the bus--is not the most dependable.
Waiting wasn't as much fun this time. The windows on the bus are higher than those on the coaster, so it's not a convenient for the vendors to come by the window. Since we were off in a corner, it wasn't as central for the vendors.
However, the vendors did come inside the bus. They were squeezing past each other in the isle to try and sell us everything from food to undershirts. They didn't have Bry'Chell's favorite, rings. Well, we did find a couple of vendors with rings, but they weren't the type Bry'Chell, the queen of cheap jewelry, wanted. (Actually, she would be the queen of expensive jewelry if I let her.)
The bus finally filled up and we were on our way. For a while. The bus died about 30 minutes outside of Kampala. The driver assured us that we would be on our way shortly. I've experienced similar events, so I decided to sit tight and wait. I didn't exactly sit, I went outside to get some fresh air.
We waited and we waited. Several people were getting restless. It started raining, so I figured just sit and wait for a while. The rain let up. Finally, Bry'Chell said it was time to find another ride. I figured she was right, so we got off the bus. In less than five minutes a half-full coaster--a nice new one--came by and offered us a ride. We had to pay again, but with both fares, it was still cheaper than taking the Metra to downtown Chicago.
The coaster dropped us off at Kayawbe and we caught boda-bodas up to Nkozi. All in all, I felt it was a pretty successful trip.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Martyrs Day (and my birthday)
What's not to like about a country where my birthday is a national holiday? June 3rd is the feast of the Uganda Martyrs, and a public holiday. Like most holidays here and in the U.S., it can be a party day, but here there are also about a million people who make the pilgrimage to Namugongo, the site where 26 young men (14 Catholic, 12 Anglican) were burned to death on this date in 1886. There were 18 killed before June 3 and one killed later--45 in all. Of course, these are just the ones that can be identified. There were others.
So, June 3rd is a big deal. People start off on pilgrimage from all over Easter Africa--and beyond--many walking for weeks to arrive at the shrine in Namugongo by June 3rd. People come from Kenya, Tanzania, Congo, Rwanda, Burundi, and of course, from all over Uganda. Some of them walk hundreds of miles. By the big day there are about a million people at the shrine.
I was not one of them. First, I don't care for huge crowds. Second, given my teaching schedule, it would have been just about impossible to hook up with the UMU group. They left Nkozi at 4:45 AM and I was still in Rubaga after teaching the night before. To connect at the shrine would have been nearly impossible and to miss the UMU group would have been a bit disastrous in terms of getting back to Nkozi. So I decided to come back to Nkozi and have a relaxing day. I did go to mass at the cathedral. It was packed at six in the morning.
When I got back home to Nkozi, Bry'Chell baked me a birthday cake and made pizza for lunch. Making pizza here means making the dough from scratch, making the sauce from scratch, browning the meat, and grating the cheese. She did it and she did a good job. Pretty impressive for a 13 year old.
The VC (UMU President), who shares my birthday had invited Bry'Chell and me over for dinner to celebrate our mutual birthday. He also invited a few of my friends--Sr. Elizabeth, Fr. Henry and Sr. Cecilia. We had a great time. Food, drink and company were wonderful. There was a fine assortment of all.
The day before the feast day, Sr. Cecilia had given me a photo of the martyrs taken in October of 1885 when they went to Tanzania for the consecration of some bishop. They're just boys. The youngest, Kizito, was only 14 when he was killed. The oldest was 26. I've seen paintings of them, but not a photo. Somehow, the photo makes them more real.
This year, my birthday was definitely a unique experience.
So, June 3rd is a big deal. People start off on pilgrimage from all over Easter Africa--and beyond--many walking for weeks to arrive at the shrine in Namugongo by June 3rd. People come from Kenya, Tanzania, Congo, Rwanda, Burundi, and of course, from all over Uganda. Some of them walk hundreds of miles. By the big day there are about a million people at the shrine.
I was not one of them. First, I don't care for huge crowds. Second, given my teaching schedule, it would have been just about impossible to hook up with the UMU group. They left Nkozi at 4:45 AM and I was still in Rubaga after teaching the night before. To connect at the shrine would have been nearly impossible and to miss the UMU group would have been a bit disastrous in terms of getting back to Nkozi. So I decided to come back to Nkozi and have a relaxing day. I did go to mass at the cathedral. It was packed at six in the morning.
When I got back home to Nkozi, Bry'Chell baked me a birthday cake and made pizza for lunch. Making pizza here means making the dough from scratch, making the sauce from scratch, browning the meat, and grating the cheese. She did it and she did a good job. Pretty impressive for a 13 year old.
The VC (UMU President), who shares my birthday had invited Bry'Chell and me over for dinner to celebrate our mutual birthday. He also invited a few of my friends--Sr. Elizabeth, Fr. Henry and Sr. Cecilia. We had a great time. Food, drink and company were wonderful. There was a fine assortment of all.
The day before the feast day, Sr. Cecilia had given me a photo of the martyrs taken in October of 1885 when they went to Tanzania for the consecration of some bishop. They're just boys. The youngest, Kizito, was only 14 when he was killed. The oldest was 26. I've seen paintings of them, but not a photo. Somehow, the photo makes them more real.
This year, my birthday was definitely a unique experience.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Rafting on the Nile
Saturday was the day of our big adventure outside of Jinga.
Well, we didn't exactly go white water rafting, it was more like floating. I had wanted to go white water rafting on the Nile, but the company we were using--Adrift Adventure Company--said Bry'Chell had to be sixteen. Since she wasn't all that excited about going (read: dug in her heels and refused.) I figured it was just as well. However, they had a two hour family float--a shorter and gentler version of white water rafting.
The family float was a two hour trip with a few small rapids, the biggest one was a class three. There was plenty of calm water where we could swim in the river. Bry'Chell, ever the cautious soul, would not go in the water the first time. However, once our guide went in, she was willing to try. Of course, this was with life jackets on. We can both say we swam in the Nile River.
There are plenty of rafting operations in the area around Bujagali Falls, but these guys have been around the longest and had a good, if not the best, safety record. The safety issue is a big deal to me.
The day was perfect, sunny and warm, but not hot. It had rained the night before, so things were pretty muddy, but once we were on the river, that was irrelevant. The river was beautiful. There were lots of birds--eagles, king fishers, darters, and others I can't name. We saw an eagle catch a fish in its claws.
The rapids were just enough to get a few screams from Bry'Chell and for both of us to get soaked. It was fun.
On the way back from rafting we passed a place that did four-wheeler tours. Basically you follow a guide on a four-wheeler ATV. This caught Bry'Chell's eye. She's right at the age where driving a vehicle is pretty exciting. I thought about it and since she was such a good sport about the rafting, I decided we'd do the short trip. It was an hour.
Once again, these folks were into safety. We were outfitted in overalls, gum boots, and helmets. We rode around on back roads for a good hour, saw a couple of beautiful views of the Nile, some typical rural scenes--cows, goats, chickens, fields of bananas, maize, cassava, and sweet potatoes.
We finished our ride just as it was beginning to rain. Bry'Chell said that was her favorite part since our guide rode faster trying to get back before the sky opened up. And in fact, we made it back just before it started pouring rain.
We waited until the rain let up and called the boda-boda guys to take us back to our cabin--euphemistically called a chalet.
When we arrived back at the base camp, there were people bungee jumping. It was fun to watch, but holds no personal interest for me. Jumping head first off a platform with only a rubber cord to keep me from crashing into the shallows of the river below does not strike me as a good time. I was perfectly content to watch others bounce around.
Well, we didn't exactly go white water rafting, it was more like floating. I had wanted to go white water rafting on the Nile, but the company we were using--Adrift Adventure Company--said Bry'Chell had to be sixteen. Since she wasn't all that excited about going (read: dug in her heels and refused.) I figured it was just as well. However, they had a two hour family float--a shorter and gentler version of white water rafting.
The family float was a two hour trip with a few small rapids, the biggest one was a class three. There was plenty of calm water where we could swim in the river. Bry'Chell, ever the cautious soul, would not go in the water the first time. However, once our guide went in, she was willing to try. Of course, this was with life jackets on. We can both say we swam in the Nile River.
There are plenty of rafting operations in the area around Bujagali Falls, but these guys have been around the longest and had a good, if not the best, safety record. The safety issue is a big deal to me.
The day was perfect, sunny and warm, but not hot. It had rained the night before, so things were pretty muddy, but once we were on the river, that was irrelevant. The river was beautiful. There were lots of birds--eagles, king fishers, darters, and others I can't name. We saw an eagle catch a fish in its claws.
The rapids were just enough to get a few screams from Bry'Chell and for both of us to get soaked. It was fun.
On the way back from rafting we passed a place that did four-wheeler tours. Basically you follow a guide on a four-wheeler ATV. This caught Bry'Chell's eye. She's right at the age where driving a vehicle is pretty exciting. I thought about it and since she was such a good sport about the rafting, I decided we'd do the short trip. It was an hour.
Once again, these folks were into safety. We were outfitted in overalls, gum boots, and helmets. We rode around on back roads for a good hour, saw a couple of beautiful views of the Nile, some typical rural scenes--cows, goats, chickens, fields of bananas, maize, cassava, and sweet potatoes.
We finished our ride just as it was beginning to rain. Bry'Chell said that was her favorite part since our guide rode faster trying to get back before the sky opened up. And in fact, we made it back just before it started pouring rain.
We waited until the rain let up and called the boda-boda guys to take us back to our cabin--euphemistically called a chalet.
When we arrived back at the base camp, there were people bungee jumping. It was fun to watch, but holds no personal interest for me. Jumping head first off a platform with only a rubber cord to keep me from crashing into the shallows of the river below does not strike me as a good time. I was perfectly content to watch others bounce around.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Taxis and Coasters
Thursday afternoon Bry'Chell and I took the UMU coach (think Greyhound-type bus minus the toilet) to Kampala and spent the night at the Grail in Rubaga (the neighborhood where the Catholic Social Training Center is located).
Friday morning we caught a taxi near Rubaga to the New Taxi Park. From the New Taxi Park we walked to the Old Taxi Park and caught a coaster to Jinga.
Some definitions might be helpful here. First, a taxi is not a car that you hail to take you to your destination. A taxi is a van that seats fifteen people--but not like an American fifteen passenger van. It seats three across including a fold-down seat on the end that uses what would be the isle space. The taxi follows something of a route. You can pretty much guess where it's going from where you catch it. It's not quite a bus service, but close enough for practical purposes. It's also cheap--prices vary by destination, but from Rubaga to the New Taxi Park is 500 schillings--just under twenty-five cents at the current exchange rate.
Tha Taxi Park is a veritable zoo of taxis, buses and people. It's a huge lot with taxis, buses and people going every which direction. It's important to keep an eye on your pockets, purse and knapsack in the taxi park. However, people are also incredibly helpful. You can ask just about anyone, worker or traveler for information and they will take time to point you in the right direction.
We exited the taxi at the gas station by the New Taxi Park and were given directions to the Old Taxi Park, which is quite near the New Taxi Park. I had been given instructions to take a coaster (translation: small bus that seats about thirty people) to Jinga rather than a taxi. The coasters are more comfortable, cheaper and safer. Buses, taxis, coasters don't leave on a given schedule. They leave when they're full. Since taxis are smaller, they fill faster. The disadvantage of a coaster is that it takes longer to fill.
In this case we were one of the first ones on the coaster, so we had a while to wait. The waiting was entertaining. There are vendors wandering the taxi parks selling stuff. They sell EVERYTHING. There were food vendors selling cookies (bisquits here), yogurt, pop, juice, plates of hot food, and meat on skewers. Other vendors were selling handkerchiefs, watches (which will work for about five minutes if at all), suit jackets, jewelry, undershirts, hats, air time for cell phones, newspapers and probably a million other things. It's sort of fun. The vendors walk by, or come up to the coaster windows and show their wares. Being a muzungu, I merited extra attention. Everyone figures muzungus have money. I bought some air time for my phone and a couple of handkerchiefs since I had forgotten mine. Bry'Chell bought two rings. They were 500 schillings each--handkerchiefs and rings. We spent fifty cents on air time and a dollar on everything else combined. It was better than the Dollar Store.
The ride from Kampala to Jinga took about two hours through beautiful countryside. Right before we arrived in Jinga we crossed the River Nile. Bry'Chell was a little impressed, being the longest river in the world doesn't mean that much to her. She was less impressed when she found out the place Moses was put in the river was probably over 3,500 miles downstream. Oh well, it's hard to impress a 13 year old.
Once we arrived we found a place to eat and use a bathroom. Our expectation of bathrooms has really changed. Bry'Chell was pleased with this one because it flushed. It was just the squat type, but it did flush.
We ate and called a friend of a friend. Lacey, a staff person from Notre Dame University, had given us the name and number of a former student of hers, Dennis. We called Dennis and he came to get us and show us around town.
We went to the source of the Nile--the place where the river exits Lake Victoria. It was cool. I'll write more about it in a separate entry. Each of the sights deserves its own write-up. From there were went to the Nile brewery, then we had a late lunch at a fancy resort place. We went to Bujagali Falls--which was beautiful and finally ended up at the place we were staying--Adrift Adventure Company.
It was a long and very full day.
Friday morning we caught a taxi near Rubaga to the New Taxi Park. From the New Taxi Park we walked to the Old Taxi Park and caught a coaster to Jinga.
Some definitions might be helpful here. First, a taxi is not a car that you hail to take you to your destination. A taxi is a van that seats fifteen people--but not like an American fifteen passenger van. It seats three across including a fold-down seat on the end that uses what would be the isle space. The taxi follows something of a route. You can pretty much guess where it's going from where you catch it. It's not quite a bus service, but close enough for practical purposes. It's also cheap--prices vary by destination, but from Rubaga to the New Taxi Park is 500 schillings--just under twenty-five cents at the current exchange rate.
Tha Taxi Park is a veritable zoo of taxis, buses and people. It's a huge lot with taxis, buses and people going every which direction. It's important to keep an eye on your pockets, purse and knapsack in the taxi park. However, people are also incredibly helpful. You can ask just about anyone, worker or traveler for information and they will take time to point you in the right direction.
We exited the taxi at the gas station by the New Taxi Park and were given directions to the Old Taxi Park, which is quite near the New Taxi Park. I had been given instructions to take a coaster (translation: small bus that seats about thirty people) to Jinga rather than a taxi. The coasters are more comfortable, cheaper and safer. Buses, taxis, coasters don't leave on a given schedule. They leave when they're full. Since taxis are smaller, they fill faster. The disadvantage of a coaster is that it takes longer to fill.
In this case we were one of the first ones on the coaster, so we had a while to wait. The waiting was entertaining. There are vendors wandering the taxi parks selling stuff. They sell EVERYTHING. There were food vendors selling cookies (bisquits here), yogurt, pop, juice, plates of hot food, and meat on skewers. Other vendors were selling handkerchiefs, watches (which will work for about five minutes if at all), suit jackets, jewelry, undershirts, hats, air time for cell phones, newspapers and probably a million other things. It's sort of fun. The vendors walk by, or come up to the coaster windows and show their wares. Being a muzungu, I merited extra attention. Everyone figures muzungus have money. I bought some air time for my phone and a couple of handkerchiefs since I had forgotten mine. Bry'Chell bought two rings. They were 500 schillings each--handkerchiefs and rings. We spent fifty cents on air time and a dollar on everything else combined. It was better than the Dollar Store.
The ride from Kampala to Jinga took about two hours through beautiful countryside. Right before we arrived in Jinga we crossed the River Nile. Bry'Chell was a little impressed, being the longest river in the world doesn't mean that much to her. She was less impressed when she found out the place Moses was put in the river was probably over 3,500 miles downstream. Oh well, it's hard to impress a 13 year old.
Once we arrived we found a place to eat and use a bathroom. Our expectation of bathrooms has really changed. Bry'Chell was pleased with this one because it flushed. It was just the squat type, but it did flush.
We ate and called a friend of a friend. Lacey, a staff person from Notre Dame University, had given us the name and number of a former student of hers, Dennis. We called Dennis and he came to get us and show us around town.
We went to the source of the Nile--the place where the river exits Lake Victoria. It was cool. I'll write more about it in a separate entry. Each of the sights deserves its own write-up. From there were went to the Nile brewery, then we had a late lunch at a fancy resort place. We went to Bujagali Falls--which was beautiful and finally ended up at the place we were staying--Adrift Adventure Company.
It was a long and very full day.
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