It is amazing to us how strongly the people here feel about Obama getting elected. Everywhere we go people ask us who we are for in the election, and when we say Obama they get excited. There is a Club Obama on Ggaba Road, there are bumper stickers and tee-shirts. And last week there was an article in the local paper about how Obama's father's town has requested from the Kenyan government that they fund an airport that could accommodate Air Force One in the event he decided to come visit.
Yesterday, the New Vision had a cartoon of a bunch of white people chanting "Obama" as they head to the polls. Obama stands in front of the "swearing-in venue" holding a Bible and an agenda. The number one item on the agenda is "Northern Uganda situation," followed by "AIDS" and "Darfur." At first I wondered if this was sarcasm - I mean, the US is in dire straights in a number of areas, and it is laughable that Obama would first turn to the problems in Africa.
But under the cartoon, the caption says: "Uganda is at the top of US presidential candidate Barrack Obama's agenda."
It is actually kind of endearing that the Ugandans (and Kenyans) feel that they are about to get a native son in the White House. They are so proud, and also almost as desperate as we Americans are for change in the global scene. Someone told me today that some Ugandans thought they would have a chance to vote because they have relatives in America. Would that they could!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Walking to the market at dusk
Two posts in one day, aren't you lucky. Once again, we are taking advantage of a better connection at the office. We ARE hooked up to Internet at our flat, but it is sooooo slow it might be worse than having no connection at all! Thanks for your long and agonized comments, Becky and Taz - maybe we should stay over here!
Very often we walk over to the market in the evening, and evening here lasts about two minutes, so we end up walking in the dark. Those of you who have been here know that “rush hour” is from 7 to 10 as people walk home from work, grabbing a meal from streetside vendors: Women squatting on the 3-legged stools and selling pancakes cooked in oil in a kind of wok, or roasting maize that smells just like popcorn (but is very tough and coarse); men roasting muchomo (skewers of goat or chicken meat), or chicken pieces at tall bbqs. Shoe vendors are especially prevalent right now, for some reason. They spread out scrubbed and sparkling black shoes on tarps or elaborate wooden shoe stands – the shoes are all used, but look amazingly new. And while they await customers, the vendors work in little sudsy basins cleaning yet more shoes.
It’s like magic – as soon as dusk falls, the vendors appear. And little tables pop up in the parking lots so people can have a Krest or Fanta (sodas) in comfort. Suddenly every nook and cranny comes alive. It’s our favorite time to go out to see what’s going on.
Very often we walk over to the market in the evening, and evening here lasts about two minutes, so we end up walking in the dark. Those of you who have been here know that “rush hour” is from 7 to 10 as people walk home from work, grabbing a meal from streetside vendors: Women squatting on the 3-legged stools and selling pancakes cooked in oil in a kind of wok, or roasting maize that smells just like popcorn (but is very tough and coarse); men roasting muchomo (skewers of goat or chicken meat), or chicken pieces at tall bbqs. Shoe vendors are especially prevalent right now, for some reason. They spread out scrubbed and sparkling black shoes on tarps or elaborate wooden shoe stands – the shoes are all used, but look amazingly new. And while they await customers, the vendors work in little sudsy basins cleaning yet more shoes.
It’s like magic – as soon as dusk falls, the vendors appear. And little tables pop up in the parking lots so people can have a Krest or Fanta (sodas) in comfort. Suddenly every nook and cranny comes alive. It’s our favorite time to go out to see what’s going on.
Vanity marketing
These signs – and more like them that we’ll leave to your imagination – sprouted one day on power poles everywhere in Kampala. Unlike in the US, big “bums” and hips are considered glamorous – I wish I had known years ago that developing such things was not only acceptable but appreciated! All those hot fudge sundaes I passed up …
Actually, the signs are causing an uproar in the letters to the editor, and on Ugandan TV. People think the ads are inappropriate. I can’t imagine there will be a “no posting” law passed as in Seattle, though. Somehow that doesn’t fit the anything-goes culture.
Actually, the signs are causing an uproar in the letters to the editor, and on Ugandan TV. People think the ads are inappropriate. I can’t imagine there will be a “no posting” law passed as in Seattle, though. Somehow that doesn’t fit the anything-goes culture.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Dripping, in more ways than one
It is the rainy season here and we are learning just what that means. One minute the sky is a blue blue – not a cloud to be seen. Then suddenly tall blowsy clouds reach high into a grey sky. “Where do they come from?” Bill asks every time. And it’s true, they just appear.
Then the wind starts blowing and soon there is a torrent of rain as if someone in the sky has dumped a bucket over the whole city. It is so loud you can’t hear anything else, and often lightning and thunder rock the city too. And not rolling thunder but cracking, window-shaking thunder, the kind that makes you want to run for cover.
In about an hour it is all gone and the sky is blue again. A half hour later everything has dried up and we are back to dripping – this time sweat instead of raindrops. We are pretty much always dripping and soggy – it is 80 degrees and humid until that cool wind sweeps through. (We also drip Deet, since we slather it on like lotion. Mosquitoes and rain seem to be partners.)
The downpour happens daily, or at least every other day. The Ugandans predict the weather with absolute certainty. We like to ask them if it will rain or not just to see what they will say – they all have very definite opinions about it. One morning when it was hot I asked a Ugandan guy if the heat would bring rain. “It will rain,” he said very seriously, nodding his head. “It will rain this afternoon, or tonight, or tomorrow.”
And he was right – what a weatherman!
By the way, we still have no Internet at Salama Springs. The residents are up in arms about it and there are promises, but no action so far. So if you don’t hear from us via email, and if the blog is a bit slow in coming, that’s the reason.
Then the wind starts blowing and soon there is a torrent of rain as if someone in the sky has dumped a bucket over the whole city. It is so loud you can’t hear anything else, and often lightning and thunder rock the city too. And not rolling thunder but cracking, window-shaking thunder, the kind that makes you want to run for cover.
In about an hour it is all gone and the sky is blue again. A half hour later everything has dried up and we are back to dripping – this time sweat instead of raindrops. We are pretty much always dripping and soggy – it is 80 degrees and humid until that cool wind sweeps through. (We also drip Deet, since we slather it on like lotion. Mosquitoes and rain seem to be partners.)
The downpour happens daily, or at least every other day. The Ugandans predict the weather with absolute certainty. We like to ask them if it will rain or not just to see what they will say – they all have very definite opinions about it. One morning when it was hot I asked a Ugandan guy if the heat would bring rain. “It will rain,” he said very seriously, nodding his head. “It will rain this afternoon, or tonight, or tomorrow.”
And he was right – what a weatherman!
By the way, we still have no Internet at Salama Springs. The residents are up in arms about it and there are promises, but no action so far. So if you don’t hear from us via email, and if the blog is a bit slow in coming, that’s the reason.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
We're here!
Sorry, everyone for lack of posts since we arrived. We have NO internet connection at good ol’ Salama Springs, but we are hoping they get it fixed next week. But we are fine.
After the looong flights (9 hours to Amsterdam, 8 hours to Entebbe, and 4 hours layover), we were met at the new and improved Entebbe airport by Eric and Asia. Of course it was great to see them.
In typical Uganda fashion, the car and driver they’d hired to get us didn’t work out and instead Eric was driving in his retrofitted Rav 4. The back seat has been pulled out so that his mobile computer setup can fit in, but he’d installed two three-legged stools for us to sit on. Since he’s somewhat night blind and doesn’t usually drive in the dark, he had Asia sit in front to navigate.
Perched on our little stools, which are one-size-fits-all-bottoms (except ours) and clutching the handholds above our windows, we learned that Eric has turned into a Ugandan driver. That means swerving past slow(er) but speeding cars, hitting potholes that sent us flying, and generally alternating between making us laugh and scaring us to death. My head hit the roof more than once, and the little stool spilled me out; I finally figured out that maintaining your balance is kind of like skiing moguls (which I was never good at).
Our jetlag disappeared as we sped down the darker-than-dark Entebbe Road, past the little markets and rivers of (also dark) people, into Kampala center, wound by the clock-tower and zoomed to the new intersection (which used to be a roundabout). Then through crowded Ntinda to Eric’s apartment, which is HUGE, quiet and extremely nice. We had some of the fresh juice Asia prepared for us, which took the edge off a very adventurous and adrenalin-filled re-entry.
We stayed at Eric’s for two nights, then to Salama Springs, where our old friends there met us with huge greetings.
After the looong flights (9 hours to Amsterdam, 8 hours to Entebbe, and 4 hours layover), we were met at the new and improved Entebbe airport by Eric and Asia. Of course it was great to see them.
In typical Uganda fashion, the car and driver they’d hired to get us didn’t work out and instead Eric was driving in his retrofitted Rav 4. The back seat has been pulled out so that his mobile computer setup can fit in, but he’d installed two three-legged stools for us to sit on. Since he’s somewhat night blind and doesn’t usually drive in the dark, he had Asia sit in front to navigate.
Perched on our little stools, which are one-size-fits-all-bottoms (except ours) and clutching the handholds above our windows, we learned that Eric has turned into a Ugandan driver. That means swerving past slow(er) but speeding cars, hitting potholes that sent us flying, and generally alternating between making us laugh and scaring us to death. My head hit the roof more than once, and the little stool spilled me out; I finally figured out that maintaining your balance is kind of like skiing moguls (which I was never good at).
Our jetlag disappeared as we sped down the darker-than-dark Entebbe Road, past the little markets and rivers of (also dark) people, into Kampala center, wound by the clock-tower and zoomed to the new intersection (which used to be a roundabout). Then through crowded Ntinda to Eric’s apartment, which is HUGE, quiet and extremely nice. We had some of the fresh juice Asia prepared for us, which took the edge off a very adventurous and adrenalin-filled re-entry.
We stayed at Eric’s for two nights, then to Salama Springs, where our old friends there met us with huge greetings.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Cranking up the blog again
What is that saying about how you can’t go home again? We’re going to test the theory somewhat as Bill and I return to Uganda this week, this time for two months.
We’ll be training journalists at various newspapers, mainly the New Vision in Kampala. And seeing son Eric, who is now living there running his non-profit, the Maendeleo Foundation.
We’ve been back home for a year almost to the day we leave. It’s funny how Uganda has stuck with us during this whole time. If I close my eyes I can see the red dirt roads, the kids running out to stare, the little paraffin lamps lighting the markets at night. We have kept up with friends we made there, both Ugandans and ex-pats, and of course have a connection with the place because of Eric. The people we met there are certainly interesting and stimulating people!
Also it’s been front and center even while we’ve done the things we missed in our nine months away from home. We’ve hiked in our mountains, where we end up comparing grizzlies to gorillas, and imagining how zebras would look on a mountain prairie. We’ve taken road trips and 9 hours in the car in the US doesn’t seem so bad after 6 hours bouncing on the Ugandan roads.
And yet, I have to wonder how it will be to return. We are more cynical, certainly, than before, having seen the imbalances for ourselves, and the difficulties of making a sustainable difference. And for some reason we expect things there to be the same, though we know that they have changed, and we might not like that.
I guess we’ll see. We’ll be keeping the blog going (by popular demand!), so check in now and then to see if, in fact, you can go home again.
(And, yes, we have voted – go Obama.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
