Uganda Runs On Matoke

This past week I saw more matoke, green bananas or plantains, than I could have imagined grew in one country. Trucks full barreled through the towns we passed; young men pushed bikes through the hills to smaller villages: two bulky bunches strapped above the seat and two more hanging down next to the wheels. Western Uganda’s terrain is shaded by countless banana trees and it’s no wonder that matoke is served each night by every homestay family.

I’m still pretty excited about the four new stamps in my passport. It was our first excursion week and the SIT group traveled to Western Uganda, then spent 2 days in Rwanda, and finally stayed overnight in Queen Elizabeth National Park back in Uganda. It was the few days I was most excited for leading up to study abroad and any trip that lets me see elephants can’t be a disappointment.

Our Sunday morning drive abruptly stopped at the center of the globe. We took turns posing in the tall white circles labeled “UGANDA EQUATOR” that I’ve seen so often in photo albums and facebook profile pictures. It was wonderful to take a deep breath away from the Kampala haze. On Monday we drove the narrow red roads that navigated the tops of hills and hills and hills to Ruhiira, the site of the Colombia-sponsored UNDP Millennium Village Project. After hearing the about Notre Dame’s initiative to sponsor a similar village, the site visit helped connect rhetoric to the acts actually involved in development. We saw the improved water source, a few clinics, a bank just starting to give loans, and the woman selling beads made of banana leaves in the next shop. Each part was a small start, scattered with the population throughout the region. I suppose it will just take time to find out if the program that attempts to enhance so many aspects of the village can succeed in leaving a sustainable community.

We crossed the border into Rwanda, which with a Ugandan accent sounds similar to “Rhonda.” Kigali itself was a great contrast to Kampala. The streets were lined and smooth, traffic laws obeyed, crosswalks used, and most surprisingly boda boda (motorcycle) drivers wore helmets We visited the Kigali Genocide Museum as well as two churches that are now permanent memorials to the thousands who died there. The solemn concrete of the mass graves, holes in church walls, bones and clothes, will stay with me in a deep unarticulated way. It was a day that I’m still processing and will continue to reflect on. Having visited a settlement of Rwandan Hutu refugees (in the same site that decades earlier generated the RPF that fought the government in the ’94 genocide) two days previously further challenged me to connect what I’ve read and seen with the people I was personally encountering. We spent a morning exploring Kigali, mostly picking our way through stacks of vibrant African fabric.

The trip concluded with an overnight in Queen Elizabeth National Park. One of the initial highlights was the white guy in a full khaki safari suit (hat included) on our boat ride. Between the boat and the game drive the following morning, we saw warthogs, water buffalo, crocodiles, egrets, Uganda kobs, hippos, water buck, pelicans, distant hyenas and hart to spot lions, and elephants. On the drive back to Kampala, I stared every time I saw an animal by the side of the road, only to realize that outside of the park, these were cows. Though their horns are impressive, they’re no waterbuck.

The vacation was both incredibly enlightening and simply fun. I’ll miss the pineapple that concluded every meal, but I was also okay to be back to matoke at the homestay last night. This morning I spent some much needed quiet time walking around Kampala and saw a man wearing a Hawaiian style shirt printed with incredible lime green and turquoise flip-flops. The amount of secondhand clothing circulating through Uganda ensures that you’re bound to see some truly unique outfits, but occasionally it’s enough to make you look over your shoulder to soak it in.

A Beginner’s Guide to Social Etiquette

Almost a month in, a favorite topic of conversation is still the cultural faux pas we’ve committed:

Attempting to barter unsuccessfully for a set-price newspaper
Letting someone else help wash clothes that included my pants
Calling them underwear instead of pants
Wearing short shorts across the courtyard (in my defense the 6 year old wasn’t wearing anything at the time)
Wearing thin-strapped flip-flops (slippers) outside of the home
Drinking/eating while walking
Calling for the taxi to stop too close to an intersection
Talking about the bathroom and related bodily functions
Talking while using the bathroom
Crossing legs at the knees, not the ankles
Mispronouncing the word for water
Turning down/deferring offers for food and juice
Using morning and afternoon greetings at awkward times

Completely Unrelated to Valentine's Day

I saw a boda boda (motorcycle) driver for the second time at the same stand wearing a 1990s, Starter Jacket-era coat with an ND leprechaun on the back. It was a familiar emblem in such and uncharacteristic setting that it failed to appear related to Notre Dame at all. These juxtapositions of comforting familiarity with still-foreign Uganda have happened a lot this week. Noelle’s peanut butter and honey on chapatti at lunch stood out from our plates of rice and beans and made all of us miss Jiffy a little.

The plethora of new things we’re experiencing outside of Makerere University give context to what we’re learning in classes. 2 weeks of guest lectures have exposed us to the multi-dimensional nature of development: economic structures, political institutions, social organizations, education, cultural attitudes, on and on. The way the talks are given proves the difference in teaching styles and concept of time. People walk more slowly here, talk more slowly (either in an undertone or in bellows). In the US people persistently move with a purpose, to do something, whereas here people just go. There is a different attitude toward life, with less certainty, and people are much more politically aware here than the general population at home. The complexity of a country under a 22 year presidential command makes comprehending any aspect of Uganda an involved process. Free speech is sometimes surprisingly scathing and bold, sometimes illusive, and always attentive to context. Reading the daily newspapers is fascinating, though.

On Sunday morning I got a tourist’s taste of preparing Ugandan produce. “you worked today! Now you can write about it in your diary,” my maama informed me. She’s also the one who said (with an unknown degree of sincerity) that as a general rule mzungus can’t eat at night after brushing their teeth. We made it to a small Anglican service on Ugandan time (50 minutes late); at the end I managed to stumble through an introduction, my first public attempt at speaking Luganda. I hand washed clothes for the first time, too. Rose initially left the 6 year old and me to our own devices, but she soon reappeared to intercept my inexperienced attempt and show me how to wash once, twice, rinse, and hang. By the end, I started to appreciate the importance of really wringing out the soap before the final rinse (though submerging one or two of my shirts in a basin of new water could probably yield and impressive amount of suds yet).

I overestimated the extent to which I’d hear English in daily life, but I’m looking forward to going to the market with my Luganda class tomorrow. After they stop giggling, people are very receptive to our meager attempts to speak the language. Now that I know the words for various fruits and can count hundreds of shillings, I’ll be able to find out if I got a good deal on my mango this morning.

Oli Otya!

Sometimes you just have to jump over the fence.

Yesterday class and site visits left me feeling sapped of energy and I went home early, only to find the gate locked. The call button induced no response, nor did my calls for Rose, nor did the questions I asked our neighbors. One little boy stopped and seemed eager to chat; even though he emphatically assured me he’d seen a muzungu jump a fence before, I’m pretty sure it’s the first time that a white girl in a stripped skirt and sandals has scaled that wall. I know because I recounted the event to each member of my family later that night. I’d been uneasy at home the night before, unsure of my place in the household, but laughing really helped last night and I’m glad to be living with the Tenywa family.

Today was the first day we have seen rain. Until now, Kampala to me was the red dust that envelops the city, swept up from taxis, boda bodas, and bikes breaking and accelerating erratically (to experience crossing the street, think Frogger). This morning all the potholes were filled with water. It’s hard to “look smart”, dress nicely, when the mud is so successful at clinging to shoes and ankles. Weather is usually sunny and hot, and it’s surprising how green the city is amidst the dust.

The 1^st week of orientation helped ease us into a new culture and a city completely unique to anything I’ve seen before. We talked safety, academics, social etiquette, etc, but mostly it was good time to get to know the other 28 people on the trip. During the first days of homestay it’s been reassuring to have others to compare stories with. Our first excursion to the source of the Nile. Like many things in the past week, it was surreal to personally witness what I’ve read and heard about. It’s sometimes hard to believe that things are happing to you, not just around you.

Despite the fact that sweets are not common here, my host family greeted me with a cake covered in icing the consistency of a valentine candy heart. It will take some adjusting to living with a new group of people, but my family has been incredibly welcoming and understanding so far. I live with a mom, dad, 2 older sisters Jackie and Barbara, 2 secondary school aged brothers, Ibram and Derrick, a helper Rose, Tina (6), and Divine (3). Barbara, whose room I’m sharing, is getting married in April. The fence enclosing the home contains the main house (3 rooms, living room, and dining area), a row of 3 additional bedrooms, a room rented to another Jackie, and the pit latrine. A large percentage of daily life occurs in the courtyard between the buildings.

In the back corner of the yard, I can consistently see more stars than I’ve seen standing next to any home. The constellations are almost as clear as I can ever remember seeing them (of course the power outage 2 nights ago did help). It’s a small unexpected surprise that in these first few days has helped me adapt to cool outdoor bucket baths.

Food, Luganda, taxi rides home, commuting into a city: all things I’m still adjusting to. Its exhilarating and exhausting at the same time.