As soon as I say that life is normal, I realize that I am not looking hard enough.  I challenge myself to find newness and to learn more.  I hope I can continue to do that in Iowa, or wherever I live.  There is always something to learn and something new to see.  Also you all can help me too – please email me any questions you have about life here in Uganda.

So what I saw clearly this past week is the huge range from poverty to wealth that exists here in Uganda.  I visited a village called Kyalugo near Namaseenene for the first time.  Maama has been working with a group of about 16 women there for the past four years.  These women are all “victims” as Maama says – that is, HIV-positive.  In Luganda HIV/AIDS is known as Slim, a descriptive term for the disease.  In addition to being sick, all of the women in the group are widows, and they have many children to take care of.  Visiting their homes makes me feel quite happy to have a pit latrine, and the faucet in the yard is the greatest luxury.  To get water each day in Kyalugo, one must walk two kilometers to the wetland and then of course the two kilometers back up the hill carrying the jug full water.  The photo “water” shows Namwanje pointing towards where she walks to get water; she’s a member of the group and a friend of Maama’s (at right).

I have been living in the comfort of my home in Namaseenene, though that “comfort” is much different from my pre-Uganda expectations of the word.  But the range of comfort that exists here is huge.  In Masaka Town at the FSD office, I enjoy electricity, flush toilets, and a shower with hot water.  At work in Ssaza, there is electricity and pit latrines.  At home in Namaseenene, we have a pit latrine and a faucet in the yard for our water needs.  In Kyalugo, there are neither pit latrines nor running water.  This brings to mind a conversation I had with Vincent, my host-brother-in-law.  His family lives in New Kkumbu, a residential neighborhood/suburb of Masaka Town.  The amenities in his home include a TV, a desktop computer, a toilet and shower.  There is an electric stove as well, but they only use it on Sundays because it is expensive to run.  He told me that since his children (all under 10) have grown up with such luxuries, they are hesitant to visit their grandparents and other relatives in the village.  They don’t know how to use the pit latrines, and they think it’s very dirty.  The children are also uncomfortable in the houses with dirt floors.  Vincent says he tries to explain to them that that’s how he grew up, that it’s the way life is for many Ugandans.  Seeing the difference between the generations and between urban and rural is striking.

My host-brother Gasuza Joseph (nickname Suza) came back to Namaseenene for the weekend.  He is working in Rakai to make money so he can pay school fees for the rest of his college courses – two more years.  He is studying to be a teacher, which I appreciate because he likes to talk, telling me about Ugandan culture, history, traditions and politics.  For example, here in Uganda when a child loses a tooth, he finds a mouse hole in the wall and puts his tooth there, being sure to tell his parents which hole he found.  Then, the mouse takes the tooth and gives him a little money, which he finds in the hole.  That’s way better than some phony tooth fairy.

He also shared a much more chilling memory.  There is a lake that links Rwanda to Lake Victoria.  During the Rwanda genocide, Ugandans couldn’t eat fish because of all the bodies that were flowing into Lake Victoria.  There are stories of people catching big fish and finding watches in their stomachs.  There is a memorial on the site where the bodies that washed ashore were buried here in Masaka District.

It’s hard to follow that…  so on completely different note, the Introduction Ceremony was postponed from Sunday.  Instead, I attended a different Baganda tradition – entering the new house ceremony.  One of my other host brothers, Mugaga David, just finished building a new house; he and his family have been living in a house owned by the university where he was teaching engineering.  So the tradition is that when a new house is finished being built, the parents of the husband must enter the house before the husband and wife do.  So on Saturday we went and walked through the empty house, very nice, quite big, and really tall ceilings.  Then on Sunday the family gets together to help them move all of their stuff from their old house to the new one.  I was glad the living room furniture was there when I arrived.  Upon entering a new house, traditional foods to eat are roasted coffee beans and a glass of water, and then a little bite of matooke that has been roasted in its peel.  After lunch/supper (4 pm) Taata made a speech introducing himself and the family, and then Maama spoke, and then Mugaga, and then a few other distinguished guests as well, including the village chairperson.  Then there was praying and a little singing.  So the photo New House is of Mugaga’s house; Maama is at left, with Senga (Aunt, sister of Taata), and Taata at right.

So again, I welcome your questions.  Happy July, and enjoy the fireworks for me on Friday!

Stephanie

Mama’s friend, Namwanje, pointing to their water source.

Brother Mugaga David’s new house

Hello Friends and Family!

I received some excellent news this past week:  I was awarded the FSD grant that I applied for to pay for my project in Bulayi Village!  Hurray!  So thankfully I don’t have to scramble to find funding from somewhere else, but now I have the unpleasant task of keeping track of the money and making sure it all goes to the right places.  We paid off our debt to the nurseries today – for seedlings that have been planted in Bulayi for a month!!  Whew.

The project itself is going well; I’m back in the swing of things after my week of sickness.  Norah and I only have a couple more handouts to translate and create, and we have only three weeks of training left to go!  During the week I was sick, my coworker Jjagwe completed the first round of follow-ups with each of the farmers who received plants.  He reported that people have been following the training recommendations for planting, though unfortunately some people had plants (especially coffee) stolen right out of the ground!  Not too many, but it’s a shame.  After we finish training in Bulayi I am going to work on creating a website for UDEI, though I hope to continue going to Bulayi with Jjagwe and Mukasa to participate in the follow-ups with the farmers we’ve been working with.

So now I am the only original Masaka intern remaining.  Pooja left last week and Krystal flew home yesterday.  I can’t imagine leaving now.  It’s taken me these two months to integrate, so I’m glad I still have six weeks to enjoy.  My weekends are really filling up quickly too so I know the time will fly.  Next weekend there will be an introduction ceremony at our house for some relatives.  An introduction ceremony is when a couple officially introduces each other to their families; my host sister explained it as the cultural wedding, and then the church wedding can follow any time after, be it one week or 6 months.  I’ll learn more next week.

Because of this pending ceremony, yesterday Agnes (host sister), Maama, and I went to town to buy fabric for my… GOMESI!  It was definitely a group effort… I would point to a fabric I liked and they would say a definitive “No.”  They are very particular to find the “right” colors for each person.  After we (finally) found one everyone could agree on (and I just said yeah it’s fine — I think they have to be a little funny) Agnes and I went to the tailor she prefers in Nyendo, the next town over from Masaka, to have me measured.  I’ll pick up the finished dress on Wednesday!  The fabric (baby silk) cost UGX 40,000 ($25) but it’ll only cost UGX 5,000 ($3.25) to have it sewn, plus UGX 1,000 ($0.65) for fabric to keep the puff sleeves stiff.  Don’t worry, I’ll send pictures after next weekend.

Yesterday morning I briefly saw Dr. Burras and the rest of the ISU folks who are working in the Kamuli District north of Kampala.  They had been visiting Lake Mburo National Park to the west of Masaka, and so they stopped for a snack in town this morning on their way back east.  It was strange but nice to see other Iowans here.

Photo 1:  a lovely hill with bananas on it, from Namaseenene (my village), a view from the path we walked to get to church last weekend.  Maama and I attended a Born Again church since they are neighbors of ours and we told them we would…  the first hour (of the three we were there) was enjoyable, all singing pretty much, interspersed with prayers.  During prayer time people spoke/shouted their personal prayers aloud all at the same time; I found it very hard to concentrate, and since I was brought up Lutheran, praying so loudly seemed strange (I kept my prayers and meditations in my head).  Then there was the sermon;  I felt increasingly uncomfortable.  It was a very small church, held in a classroom; about 14 adults and 10 children attended.  Maama and I were the only “unsaved” ones there.

After more prayers, Maama decided to re-affirm her belief that Jesus is her personal savior, a statement that was much rejoiced in that small room… so after she did that several people asked me when I would do so.  For as religious as most Ugandans are – be it Protestant, Muslim, Catholic, or Saved, this is by far the most anyone has ever pressured me; I resisted as politely as I could.  As we walked home after the service Maama and I discussed how we prefer to attend the quieter and more sedate Protestant service on the other side of the hill.  Ha then when I got home I found a chicken in my bed.  There are about six chickens at home right now who are crazy to find places to lay their eggs, so this hen must have slipped into my room when I left the door open for a second as I stepped outside before church.  The mystery is how she got under the mosquito net and onto my bed… I found her egg under the bed though, not on it.

The final photo is our iron.  Ugandans are very particular about looking smart – that is, put together and well-dressed, so having well-pressed clothes is of utmost importance.  You fill the iron with hot coals from the kitchen fire and then you iron away pretty much like normal, except it is quite heavy, and you have to be careful to only touch the wooden handle.  This also reminds me, I’ve helped wash clothes a few times with my family!  Usually they wash while I’m at work, but I’ve helped a few times on the weekends.  The motion is a lot like kneading bread!

Thinking of you all!  Each day I am glad to be here, though I have been thinking about my return to the states, particularly after talking with Pooja and Krystal about their departures.  I’m very excited to see everyone and hmm eat a delicious variety of foods!!

Love, Nakirya Stephanie

Just when I was beginning to feel so confident about being here in Uganda, I was viscerally reminded that there is a part of life here I don’t fully appreciate:  sickness.

I stayed in town Sunday night since we returned from Queen Elizabeth National Park after dark (more on that at the end).  Monday morning at around 10 am I had terrible abdominal pain… so I decided to go to the clinic.  For as modest as Ugandans are about dress, they have very small requirements for personal space, even in the waiting room of a clinic.  Plus, budging in line occurs as rampantly as it does at the bank.  At this particular clinic I waited in the main front room first where you go to tell the front desk nurse who you are and I showed her the FSD agreement; Ned, FSD program coordinator, came for moral support.  Eventually (45 min later) a nurse motioned for me to enter a second waiting hall area.  I have no idea how they keep track of who showed up when or who needs to be seen quickest.

There was a long bench in this next room, facing two examination rooms.  The doctors sit inside those rooms and patients enter in one after another – rapidly, since no one wants to lose their place.  It was confusing to understand the order and finally I motioned a nurse over to explain things a little better.  So finally I saw a doctor.  He asked me to describe my symptoms.  The only time he touched me was to place a thermometer strip up to my neck to take my temperature – 39.5 C (103 F).  Somehow it seems strange to see a doctor who doesn’t take your pulse or probe your stomach if you have abdominal pain.  He sent me back to the front lobby area to pay lab fees for blood and urine tests, and then I went back to the lab, receipt in hand to give to the lab doctor.  About half an hour later she pricked my finger and smeared the blood on a slide and then handed me the gauze to stop the bleeding; that makes sense here.

Then I was handed the smallest jar…  I will spare you the details, but it was a tiny jar.  Soon the results were handed back to me and I was directed to go back to the doctor I saw earlier.  Easier said than done.

The waiting room was still packed, so I asked a nurse to tell me when to enter.  She did, but a couple jumped up and inside the room when I was supposed to go…  She told me to go in anyways and the doctor explained the results:  high white blood count which means some type of infection.  He told me that when people (here, small children) get malaria for the first time it first manifests itself in a high fever, abdominal pain, and diarrhea.  So even though my blood test came back negative for malaria, he still prescribed the malaria treatment tablets.  When I told Norah, a Ugandan friend, about this, she was quite surprised to hear that I had never had malaria before – it’s not there at home, she asked.  After some brief Wiki sleuthing, I found this:

“Efforts to eradicate malaria by eliminating mosquitoes have been successful in some areas. Malaria was once common in the United States and southern Europe, but the draining of wetland breeding grounds and better sanitation, in conjunction with the monitoring and treatment of infected humans, eliminated it from affluent regions. In 2002, there were 1,059 cases of malaria reported in the US, including eight deaths. In five of those cases, the disease was contracted in the United States. Malaria was eliminated from the northern parts of the USA in the early twentieth century, and the use of the pesticide DDT eliminated it from the South by 1951. In the 1950s and 1960s, there was a major public health effort to eradicate malaria worldwide by selectively targeting mosquitoes in areas where malaria was rampant.^[88] However, these efforts have so far failed to eradicate malaria in many parts of the developing world – the problem is most prevalent in Africa.” (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malaria)

So really I don’t know what I had but it knocked me flat.  If it was food poisoning, I would like to bring to your consciousness the wonders of microwaves, refrigerators, and a constant source of electricity — all helpful ingredients towards food safety.  I haven’t left this floor of the building since going to the clinic, and I didn’t really leave bed until today.  It might have been malaria, food poisoning, or some other critter.  Mama Judith came to visit me today so it was nice to see her.  She brought me a shawl to keep warm and an apple.  I have been staying in the spare room of the FSD office which is also adjacent to our program coordinator’s apartment.  Having an indoor flush toilet at a time like this is very appreciated.

On the plus side, the weekend at Queen Elizabeth was great.  Our friend and FSD staff member in Jinja, Joel, picked Krystal, Mike (new intern) and I up on Saturday and we drove to Kasese to stay the night.
On Sunday we woke up at 4 am in order to get the park early enough to see active animals in the morning.  Of course, our guide met us about 30 minutes late, so we had a nice nap in the car.  We got on the road around 7.

The unfortunate thing about national parks here is that basically the only way to see them is by driving around dirt roads.  The savanna was beautiful regardless.  We were looking for lions when we spotted a big bus and a few SUVs in the same area.  We were excited – they must see something!  As we drove closer, however, we saw that everyone was out of the bus.  Highly unusual… until we realized the bus was stuck in the mud.  Perfect.  Our guide hopped out to check it out, so we did too.  It was a bus full of Makerere University forestry and environment students.  The only way to move the bus was to push, so we stepped behind to do our part.  Quite a feeling of accomplishment and camaraderie.  Turns out these were the same people we went on a boat road of the Channel that connects Lake George and Lake Edward, where we saw lots of hippos and some crocodiles.  Other animals of the day included elephants, kobs (deer-like), warthogs, a hyena or two, some monkeys, and about fifty baboons walked along the road beside us for a while.  So it was fun but not really my favorite way to enjoy a national park.  We also saw some zebras on the drive home, through a smaller national park called Lake Mburo.

So I’m hoping to go back home tomorrow, maybe to work in the afternoon, or at least back on Friday.  then I’m planning a nice relaxing weekend at home.  Hopefully my host brother and sister who have been working in Rakai will have time to come visit Namaseenene.

Sending my love to all!

Stephanie

Stuck….

much larger than a deer

Savanna

Routines make me blind to my life, I stop paying attention once I’m settled in, and really everything seems normal in life right now. My in-joke with myself about “hey mama what’s for supper?” has faded somewhat, I only giggle to myself once in a while when I eat the mash of starches by the light of a lantern with my family occasionally speaking to each other (in Luganda) about the day. So on Friday when we got on the coaster headed for Kampala and ultimately Jinja, as soon as we got out of town I was bombarded by thoughts about life here. Part of it is the fact that sitting in the car staring out the window offers great thinking space, and secondly just the getting out of town out of my routine there makes me think. But first, how, you may be wondering, do you even get from Masaka to Jinja? what’s a coaster? (Sorry guys you’ll have to look on a map for yourself, Jinja is south of Kampala. Pretty much anytime I’ve talked to any Ugandan about Jinja they’re bound to say, “yeah, Jinja, the source of the Nile.”)

So, public transport in Uganda is sort of mysterious. Mainly there are “taxis” and “coasters.” Taxis are like mini-buses – the attached photo of the same name shows two taxis with a truck full of matooke between. They generally have that paint job and say “taxi” on a little sign on the roof, except sometimes you can’t see the sign if it’s covered by people’s stuff strapped on. Coasters are bigger than a mini-bus but smaller than an actual bus – they have things like charter buses too but I don’t know how to take one, if they’re private or what. The thing is, often a coaster and a taxi hold the same number of people, but in a coaster you get your own seat whereas in a taxi you’ll probably be smashed 4 or sometimes 5 to a row. A coaster is built to hold about 40 (each row with four permanent seats and 1 aisle fold-down) and a taxi has “licensed to hold 12” painted on the side but to hold so few is rare – technically each row with two permanent seats and one aisle fold-down. Gas is really expensive here, 2,600 shillings per liter which I think Cory and I calculated to be over $6 per gallon.

There are three main characters to know when taking a coaster or taxi. There’s the driver, of course, position self-explanatory; you never need to interact with him (it’s always a him). Then there’s the conductor, who sits by the sliding door of the van/bus. He takes the fare, helps relay “stop” messages up to the driver, and opens and closes the door for people. If the taxi is not full, he also leans out the window shouting the destination periodically so that if anyone on the side of the road wants to come they can wave it down. I love it when I’m walking in M-Town and a taxi zips by and the conductor yells “Muzungu let’s go!” when I have no idea where they’re headed and obviously they are zipping along and I’m not at all interested. Anyways. The third character is the tout for the taxi/coaster, to be explained below.

Instead of trying to flag down a zipping taxi, it’s easier to go to a taxi park where the trip begins. A taxi park is a gravel/dirt lot full of taxis. There are taxi parks in bigger cities – Masaka Town has one, Kampala has two… so to go to Jinja we went to the taxi park in M-Town Friday afternoon. The thing is, the taxi itself is never marked to show where it’s going. If the taxi park is big, there might be signs of town names in the general area of where the taxis going to that town will park, however whether you can read them is another matter. Luckily (sort of) there are the touts who come up to you all the time you are walking through saying “where are you going” in a wide range of pushy-to-polite. In M-Town it’s easy because probably you are either going to Mbarara or Kampala. Friday there was a coaster headed to Kampala already almost full so we hopped in. The touts are paid to fill the vehicle. There are no timetables for any transportation. When a taxi or coaster is full, it leaves and an empty one pulls in. When we went to Ssese Islands a few weekends ago we had to wait in the taxi for 1.5 hours in the Nyendo taxi park (town next to M-Town) until the taxi was full enough to suit the tout/conductor/driver to go. For us on Friday, it took only about ten minutes and we were off! The main drawback to being close to the last ones to board, you’re stuck in the aisle fold-down chairs, which have about ¼-inch of padding, ouch on these bumpy roads.

You don’t pay when you board. Instead, about a ¾ of the way through the journey, the conductor stands up or sort of turns around in his chair. Basically he starts making eye contact and people begin handing him money one by one but not in any certain order. If you forgot to ask what the fare is before you got on, it’s kind of awkward now because no one really talks at all during this time, it’s all done silently. At night they turn on the overhead light but it’s still quiet. People in the back hand their money up. On the way to Kampala I happened to be in that prime middle seat, about arms-length from the conductor, where I was handing a lot of money forward and then change backward. It’s all about eye contact and a few gestures: “here’s my money but I’m also paying for her” or “this change goes to that guy behind you to the left” sort of thing. The whole process is quite orderly; the conductor has an impressive memory to pay attention: who has paid, who needs to, whose change he’s given , and who still needs it back.

Another memorable moment is once per trip between Masaka and Kampala the taxi pulls off the road by basically a market, sort of. Instead of the travelers getting out to buy refreshments, the sellers basically mob the van. Bouquets of goat kebabs are shoved into the open windows, but then that guy’s arms are pushed over by the beverage-seller with a bottle water and soda, and also milling around are people with baskets of gonja (those delicious roasted bananas) or sometimes ndiizi, bunches of small sweet bananas. They are very forceful, and unless the passengers are vigilant, all the windows will be wide open and everyone will have food waved in front of their faces. In the taxi park this happens to an extent, but it is not quite so bad as far as pushiness goes. It is pretty hilarious what people peddle to passengers through the window of a taxi while waiting for it to fill up – “here, Muzungu, look at my selection of watches.” Airtime for cell phones is a popular item, but things like soccer balls, handkerchiefs, and screw drivers just don’t seem like impulse buys before traveling.

Since there are no official bus stops besides the taxi parks, when you want to be let off you just say “Stage” to the conductor. The conductor relays the message to the driver, who pulls over as soon as there is a reasonably safe place to do so. Safety is relative. It is quite handy to be able to be dropped off anywhere along the route, but it also slows up travel time… especially when the guy getting out is sitting in the back corner, and all of us in those fold-down chairs have to get out to let him out. Ah well.

It took about 2.5 hours to get to Kampala, which was pretty good time. We come in to the New Taxi Park. We wandered around to find the hotel where we had stayed that first weekend because we knew it had a clean free bathroom, and then we had to find the Old taxi park. They are happily quite close to each other so it’s not too hard. It is important when asking for directions to say “no we don’t need you to come along and show us, just point,” because then you’d have to figure out how much to pay them for it. So when you get to the taxi park in Kampala the fun really begins, if you see “K’la Old Taxi Park” photo. Wandering through there is intense, between taxi touts, people selling things, mud, and taxis driving around not ever yielding to their potential passengers. So eventually we come to the Jinja taxi and board, early hurray so a good window seat, which means you can control the window (amount of airflow) AND you get a better view.

It’s strange now that I don’t remember what I thought of Africa before I came. I can’t remember at all. I think I thought it was very empty of people, but in fact on the drive from Masaka to Kampala and K’la to Jinja you are constantly passing through towns or villages. The rural uplands that streak by are composed primarily of houses and their half-acre banana plantations mixed as they are with other fruit trees and a ground plane of sweet potatoes, corn, beans, peanuts… Occasionally you’ll pass through a government-protected forest, but they aren’t very big. The lowlands are all protected wetlands, so the only people you see there are washing their cars at the edges. But basically there are people everyone, walking, working, sitting.

People also don’t look black anymore. When I met Joel and Martin, two of the Ugandan FSD staff, on the first Saturday I was here, I couldn’t distinguish them – on the next Tuesday if you had asked me to pick them out of a room full of Ugandan men I would not have been able to. Now if I see a lighter Ugandan I think, oh, is that a Muzungu? — for a split second until I realize no, it’s not. The only mirror I have for daily use is the postcard-sized one I brought with me. Since I don’t really see myself very often I forget that I don’t look like everyone else here. The time that I remember is of course when people say “Muzungu how are you” as I pass. Either the staring has subsided or I am just used to it. In Jinja the people are so much more used to Muzungus that we didn’t get a second look at all, which was nice.

Jinja was also very expensive compared to Masaka as a consequence of the tourists. Friday night when we got in we went to an ex-pat-owned restaurant for pizza, where we met up with MaryKay and Peter, Cory’s cousin and husband who are on a month-long vacation from their year of work in Tanzania. It was good to hear about their work and talk about our experiences. They had been rafting on the Nile so had some good stories to tell. We ended up going to the hostel they were staying, about $7/night for a bunk bed and excellent hot shower. On Saturday we bid them adieu and went downtown for breakfast and shopping. Too much shopping, we were overwhelmed by the craft stores. Way-finding was difficult and we got turned around a lot – isn’t the place with the nice scarves just past that store with the banana fiber handbags and paintings? Ha. Which one?? Our friend/FSD staff Joel picked us up in his car around two and after some cheap local food we went to Bujagali Falls (of the Nile), which were very beautiful. The photo “Bujagali” has Krystal (at left), Pooja and I in front of one of the falls. This is the same place people go rafting. Intense and expensive. Instead we took a nice little boat ride around some islands for about an hour.

stephanie

Taxi & banana truck

Taxi park, nice and calm

The 3 FSD intern friends

Hi Friends and Family,

Wednesday evening I tasted probably the best pineapple of my life.  If it seems like food occupies my mind a lot, well, it does.  To taste something besides beans or groundnut sauce is pretty exciting.

At work I have created my work plan so I have a purpose!  My official goal is to improve the communication capacity for UDEI.  One of my objectives is to create handouts and potentially a manual for UDEI extension staff to use when they are training a community group.  Right now they are using a crazy mix of other organizations’ literature, which is quite disorganized and varies from person to person.  So I am working with one extension worker, Norah, picking her brain and looking at her resources.  So far we have written about three training topics:  how to plant and care for trees (especially fruit trees), coffee, and passion fruit.  So she tells me what she knows in English as she consults her notes and books, translates the main points into Luganda, and with that I have created three handouts with diagrams accompanying the main points.  It’s exciting, especially to see her use the drafts of the handouts during the training Thursday, showing the diagrams.  One issue is that printing is quite expensive, and so I want these things to be as useful as possible.  I’m debating about different formats, or how to make them into a booklet or so that they will fit inside the notebooks that we gave to the training group we are working in.

Concurrently we are training a community based organization (CBO) in Bulayi Village about these topics.  We had a baseline survey with ten families in the group, and then last week we met with the whole group to introduce what training topics we can provide and ask when they are available.  So they told us Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at 3 pm, so that is when we go there to train.

And by we I mean I also go but I pretty much sit and listen and at the end say something like “tulabagane enkya” (see you tomorrow) and the whole group applauds.  It’s nice to be appreciated for doing so little…  So I’m glad I am making those handouts, at last I can contribute something I know how to do.  And using PowerPoint no less!  It’s been great working with this group, they are so excited to learn.  On Thursday we delivered the seedlings!  Coffee, passion fruit, green pepper, this other vegetable thing, and also some fruit trees like avocado.  The idea is that we provide some plants now just catching the end of the rainy season so they can have practical training as well as the theory of how to plant and care for these things.  Also they just can’t afford to buy them.  So by providing them some plants to begin, hopefully since coffee and passion fruit have a ready market here, they will earn enough profit to pay for their children’s school fees and have some leftover to buy more plants or other things they need – to become economically sustainable.  UDEI also has a small nursery, with the idea that they will offer seedlings at half price to such farmers.

So the first picture is Norah at the Bulayi group meeting, talking about our potential calendar for the coming weeks.

The next picture of one of my “aunts” and I — so my host dad’s sisters.  They also live in Namaseenene, but down the hill from us, actually along the road I take to walk to Ssaza.  It’s nice to know people in the area.  So I went there yesterday to visit with Mariam, my “cousin” who is also the matron at the Islamic boarding school next to our house.  So I finally understand how she is related to my host parents.  We had a nice meal — they prepared groundnut sauce in banana leaves (instead of needing a saucepan) which is the traditional way.  Then Mariam asked if I would take their photos.  I said sure, and as soon as they heard they rushed to the other room to change into their fancy gomesi.  The gomesi is the traditional dress of the women of the Buganda tribe.  They all have that puffy shoulder.

“Gomesi” was taken this morning — I was talking with Mama about them and so she showed me her nice ones and then I wanted to learn how to put them on so I tried on a few too.  They are actually really awkward to wear, and to think that most married Bugandan women wear gomesi regularly!  Also a note, so Buganda is the area that I am in, Baganda are the people of this area, and Luganda is the language that they speak.  The gomesi is pretty wide spread, although some other areas of Uganda have different traditional dress.

So my time here is one third complete, it’s really flying by.
Stephanie

Giving a training session

Stephanie with her aunts; she’s not wearing a gomesi

Stephanie wearing a gomesi

Hello friends and family,

The days are going so quickly, already a week has passed!

On Thursday for breakfast I was served small silver fish soup.  These fish are maybe 1 inch long, and they are caught in Lake Victoria.  They are dried and then sold at the market.  Mama Judith prepared them as a soup, so they became partially rehydrated.  We’re talking whole fish here, even if they are small.  So with each scoop of my fork, I raised a small mound of rice with a little fish on top, it’s eyeball staring up at me…  it was not very appetizing and really just tasted fishy.  Mama Judith was telling me that at about my age women start to fatten themselves up, in preparation for marriage IE childbearing.  They must be very strong when they marry as in when they start giving birth all the time.

She served me some steamed greens as another example of important things to eat.  One was supposed to protect the skin from the sun.  The other was cleome/Spider Flower!  She steamed it by wrapping it in banana leaves and placing it over the matooke as it boiled.  It is supposed to help purify the blood.  It tasted better than the other one, but both were quite bitter.

Also I helped to weed one of the fields last Thursday, Labor Day.  One of the main weeds that encroach upon maize and bean fields is Wandering Jew.  I said, oh, I know that plant, we grow it in pots inside as a decoration.  This morning I helped to plant sweet potatoes in mounds under the banana trees.

My last email emphasized amenities so I want to clarify a little.  At work I have been reading the Masaka District Development Plan which was written by the local government council and lists the issues facing this district and the plans for the future.  So some interesting statistics:

-75% of the citizens of Masaka District depend on agriculture for their income.
-72% are engaged in subsistence farming.
-Cash crops are coffee, bananas, maize, beans, vanilla
-A little under 6% of the population of this district has access to electricity, and most of those are in Masaka Town.  All the electricity in Uganda comes from the hydroelectric dam in Jinja, and there are frequent power outages.
-The population density according to the 02 Census is 248/sq km.  For comparison, Iowa’s population density is 20/sq km according to Wikipedia.

For some more personal information, we completed baseline surveys at ten farms last week.  They owned ½ to 2 acres of land.  They had an average of 8 children in their families, some their own and some orphans, children of family members or friends who have died of HIV/AIDS.  Basically no family has been untouched by HIV/AIDS here.  One sister and one brother of Mama Judith died from the disease.  It is thought that the disease was brought to the area by the Tanzanian soldiers during the war against Amin.

Hm.  On a happier note, last weekend I went to Kampala with my host sisters Agnes, Nakirya Monica, her husband Vincent and one of their friends.  We stopped for gonja on the way, which is a type of banana that is only eaten after being roasted.  It is bad luck to eat it as a meal.  It is often eaten on long journeys.  When in transport, gonja bananas must be carried alone or an accident will occur.  The best story about gonja is a proverb:  “Ensayu lyolina lya mwoki wa gonja, aba tanajja mga akuba mu ngalo” which you can say when you are extremely happy – it means something like “to have happiness like the person who roasts gonja, clapping hands to brush away the ashes from roasting.”  …difficult to translate, but according to my host brother the idea is that when Ugandans clap they are so happy – the act of clapping is brushing away the ashes from roasting the gonja, because the happiest person in Uganda is the person who roasts gonja.

We stayed at a family member’s house near Kampala after the wedding; the bedroom Agnes and I shared had it’s OWN BATHROOM!  And then, I saw… A SHOWERHEAD!  I was pretty excited… until I turned on the faucet and it was only cold water.  Ah well, it was a running water I could stand under none the less.  The wedding itself was quite similar to an American wedding, though at the reception they had traditional Bugandan dancers.  Everyone made a big line to present their gifts to the bride and groom, and later each side of the family went over to greet the other side.  The dinner was, drumroll please, matooke!!  I think I’ve gone only three days without matooke this whole time here.  It’s never just matooke, but matooke, rice, with a bean sauce, or matooke, sweet potato, and a sauce made from groundnuts.

Yikes better get on to the photos, this is becoming a novel!
-Brothers-Beans is just that, two of my brothers or hmm grandsons of Mama Judith, Katende at left and Sseru at right, shelling beans for the sauce.  In Luganda beans are called ebijanjaalo, one of the best words I’ve encountered.
-Sugar-cane is me having a snack provided by one of the farmers I visited with Heifer Project veterinarians.  This sugar cane stick started out at about the length of my entire arm.  You slowly bite away at it, suck the sugar out of the fibers, and then spit out the fibers.  Quite refreshing except hard work for the jaw.
-my-office is also self-explanatory, except that’s not just my space but the entire United For Development office…  quite small, they are in the process of getting a new larger space.  There is a computer but power is out often enough that I am glad to have the laptop — there is power just often enough to charge the battery.  What’s nice about this place is that even if I am stuck at the office I am still practically outside.

I have been hearing about the lovely spring that has reached Iowa!  Hope all is well at home.

stephanie

shelling beans

Eating Sugar-cane

the local office

So maybe it has only been a few days but it seems like a month for me.  Today was the first day I used a flush toilet since Friday!!

170:  my house:  my bedroom window is the one at right.
155:  my room.  good mosquito net.
158:  My host maama, Judith, preparing the amatooke.

Last night as we sat around the living room/dining room by the light of one paraffin lamp at supper, my family asked me if we use amatooke leaves to keep foods hot (I think in English its plantain, like banana).  I explained that we don’t have that plant (do bananas grow in the US at all?) and that we use pots’ lids to keep food hot… hard to explain that in fact we don’t need to worry so much about keeping foods hot as other foods are cooking.  Here they use one fire to cook.  The amatooke takes I think three hours to steam (wrapped in the leaves to keep in the steam) and then whatever sauce is going with it must be cooked after, keeping the amatooke hot.  How can I explain that in fact many Americans simply add water and microwave in under 10 minutes and then they eat?  And if there are leftovers there are no worries about food poisoning because you throw it in the fridge!

My family is very friendly.  My host mom is 65; she had 11 children, though if I follow the stories properly three daughters have died [see note below].  She bought me toilet paper!  I hope you all appreciate the life you have been given each time you flush the toilet!!  Every time you simply throw clothes into the washing machine, thinking “what a chore” … think about having to wash them by hand!  Currently my host family does my washing, but I will learn to help.

And what about a shower?  Turning the faucet and out comes clean warm water – as hot or cold as you want at that moment.  And here I am, squatting in my lean-to bathing enclosure with a small tub, a gerry can of cold water and a vacuum flask of hot, to mix as needed.  I have not yet perfected my bucket bathing technique.

Some exciting news:  I am known to my host family as Nakirya, from the Clan of the Hippopotamus.  The oldest daughter is also Nakirya, she is Nakirya Monica, so they call me both names as well.  It’s “Nah-cheer-ee-aa” though the “r” sound here is a mix between R and L.  I didn’t even know I had been named – two FSD staff people came with me on Friday when they dropped me off.  We had been talking and walking around the farm when Martin turned to me and said ah Mama has given you your African name – Nakirya.  I guess during their conversation Maama Judith said it, though my Luganda is not so good as to have caught it. I guess it literally means “they gave me something and I ate it.”

Work is going well; these first two days we have been doing many site visits, seeing projects they have been implementing.  My organization, United for Development Initiative (UDEI) has been working with Heifer Project International (HPI) — HPI has providing goats and UDEI helps provide technical support.  I toured ten farms (think homestead, small scale) with two veterinarians today.

Sorry for the length, I had a lot of news this time.  Hope all is going well for you at home!

18 July 2008 Note: Maama is actually 62. Just this past weekend I was with her and a host-sister and -brother and when she claimed the age of 65 they said “Maama, where did you get those extra years?” She produced 10 children, and yes, produced is the verb used here. One daughter died of HIV in the early 2000s, leaving two sons. The other two daughters she was referring to were I think stillborn or naturally aborted.

stephanie

preparing amatooke (a staple food)

April 23, 2008

Hello All once again,
You will not hear from me so much after this week I think… We just got back from visiting the three organizations we (interns) will each be working for. Mine is in Ssaza, a small village about 3 km from Masaka. My home will be another 2 km from there. My supervisor Edward pointed out the direction towards Namaseenene (the village where my home will be) and he said you see that hill? it’s above that.

It is strange to be out and about and definitely stared at. The small children do indeed yell “hello muzungu” just as we were told — it means hello white/westerner, not derogatory, just observational i guess. it’s strange, seems intimidating to see everyone staring, but then as soon as I go into a store and say “Gyebale” (a greeting that means thank you for the work that you do) the clerk will smile and be very friendly. It’s a great word — such a simple word for the meaning it has in English. So everyone has been so friendly once you greet them. greetings are of utmost importance here.

some photos attached:

The first is of a market in Kampala, the view was from the reception area of the hotel. One of the hotel workers carried Krystal’s 95 lb suitcase up two flights of stairs on his head, very impressive… not to mention that he carried my 39 lb bag just regularly.

Next is me crossing to the southern hemisphere! Ok, pretty cheesy, but you have to!

The third shows the FSD staff eating fried grasshoppers and the interns taking photos. Mmm they were actually really delicious. crunchy and also seasoned with salt. All around Masaka they put up metal sheets into buckets of water and then at night turn on lights to attract the flying grasshoppers, which then fall into the water and drown.

the thing about electricity here is that it shuts off a lot… all the power comes from Jinja 210 km away, a dam, Kira dam, on the Nile. by now I feel accustomed to it. Oh the powers off…. oh it’s back, oh there it goes again. that’s the way it was last night. but it’s not always so bad. You just have to take it into consideration when you plan something. And at home I won’t have it at all… and there’s running water outside, but i’m not sure what that means as far as toilets/showers…. probably not.

I have food pictures of course but no really good ones yet so I will send one later. We eat SO MUCH starch. And i’ve never been to a place where the serving sizes are larger than in the US. You get a big plateful of starch, maybe Irish potatoes, sweet potatoes, plaintain, maize porridge, cassava… and then a bowl of “g-nut” sauce and a little meat in that — this is “local food.” G-nut is for groundnut sauce, quite delicious. Unfortunately fruit is generally eaten only at breakfast, though with my host family i think I will try to suggest more vegetables and fruit.

It has been good this week, easy with my friends — the other interns, and the FSD staff are all very fun. but I know there will be another transition when I go to the host family, especially since I will probably have to take a taxi (public transport) into Masaka. But we will continue to have FSD workshops periodically, and Pooja, Krystal and I are all game to do some weekend trips.

All for now! Much love to everyone! Thanks for your responses, I enjoy hearing what you are all up to as well.

Stephanie

Hello friends and family!

today we crossed the equator and i am now in masaka, uganda. now that
i am in an internet cafe paying for minutes i can’t think of what to
write, how to begin. flights all went well in general, and our stay
at the entebbe guesthouse was great, so many flowers and birds.
except i always forget how hard the first night away is…. saturday
krystal and i met the rest of the fsd uganda folks and picked up the
third intern at the airport, then headed into kampala. we stayed at a
place called the tourist hotel.

this season it rains everyday from maybe 3 am till 10 am. the
temperature has been maybe 75 or 80, and it was more humid in kampala
than it is here in masaka. today we went to the tombs of four
bugandan kings which was very cool, though i got a big nauseous in the
van. if you think Iowa’s potholes are bad… also traffic tends to
be a bit intense.

we also got our phones today, i am at ****** if you need to
reach me. i have no idea what rates would be for you or what uganda’s
int’l code is. it’s free for me if you call into my phone but it is
probably quite expensive.

i also found out about my host family — it will be a farm in namaseenene
village outside of masaka, with i think three sons and a herdsman for
the cattle (yes i think dairy) in addition to goats and chickens. we
will go to our host families on friday. for the rest of the week we
are in masaka doing workshops, luganda language lessons, and getting a
feel for the town.

thank you all SO MUCH for the love and support you have surrounded me
with, even what some 8000 miles away. i really can’t stress that
enough. it is hard to be away from such wonderful people!!

stephanie