Taxi ride to remember

I have gotten over my phobia of the taxi park after dark. Well, let me clarify that: I am now alright with going into the taxi park after dark assuming I’m not carrying anything too valuable on me. The main reason for this change is because I have been staying late in Kampala more frequently (every day this last week) for Rotary meetings and other events. Since taking the mutatu costs about 1/15 of a normal taxi cab rate, I’ve shifted over to primarily using the mutatu’s to get home.

The benefit of riding mutatu’s (besides the fact that they’re dirt cheap) is that I get to encounter much more of the culture. This, as I found out this last Saturday, can produce some very memorable experiences.

I was in the city late on Saturday for a Rotaract chartering celebration. It was a very fun event, and I enjoyed getting to know some members from my sponsor club – The Rotary Club of Kololo – a little better. I will save the details of the celebration and of my positive experiences with Rotary in general for another post though.

I left the celebration around 10:30 pm and walked with a couple Ugandans to the taxi park where I boarded a mutatu headed toward my home. While sitting there waiting (the mutatu’s don’t leave until they are full), I got my first clue that this was going to be an interesting ride when an older man threw a huge burlap sack of something (my guess is cassava) down next to my feet. He then climbed in, gave me a disgruntled look and sat down next to me on my left.

The man talked to himself for awhile until the taxi started to move. He then started to speak up, talking to no one in general most of the time but occasionally speaking directly to the person sitting on my right.

It quickly became blatantly obvious that he was talking about me. He was speaking in Luganda – the local tribal dialect around Kampala – so I couldn’t make out most of what he was saying. However, the numerous times he used the word “muzungu” gave the meaning away clearly. And, even if I hadn’t caught that, the finger-pointing that started soon after removed all doubt.

As he continued on with his rant, I noticed that he was holding a clear plastic bag filled with liquid (think of a Capri-Sun package, only clear). This was a bag full of Uganda’s local spirit: waragi gin. This potent drink is commonly sold in these small plastic bags for people who want to “drink on the go.” Alcoholism is a very serious problem in Uganda, and these bags of waragi gin, with their very cheap price tag, cater exactly to this crowd.

The old, drunk man continued, picking up some momentum as he went. For my part, I decided to just completely ignore him and pretend like I had no idea what he was saying. However, after 4 weeks of Luganda lessons (and several words that are the same in Luganda as in English), I was able to pick up on the gist of his schpeel: he assumed that I was a student in Uganda, probably doing some type of study on the poor in the country. He talked about me being rich and how my country can afford to through around $700 billion. In general, he was bitter at the hands we had each been dealt in life.

By this time, he was getting a rise out of several people in the taxi. Numerous times people would laugh after something he said. All I chose to do was just sit there, shaking my head, with something of a smirk on my face. I was actually coming up with a “master plan” while the guy kept talking. I decided I wouldn’t say a word until it was my turn to get off the mutatu. Then I would turn to everyone, say good bye, and wish them all a good night, in Luganda, hoping that they would realize then that I knew what they were saying.

This plan was slightly interrupted when the man tapped me on the shoulder and asked me “What does it feel like to be closer to God because of your skin?” He followed that up with “If I cut you, do you bleed?” implying that whites aren’t even mortal.

Obviously, I wasn’t ready for two questions like that. I stumbled through some response trying to say I really wasn’t that different from everyone else on the taxi, but failed to express myself well. It didn’t really matter because he had already gone back to ranting in Luganda before I was even done speaking.

We eventually reached my stop. I got out and went ahead with the Luganda goodbye and good wishes for everyone in the taxi. I didn’t notice any real response from the people, which probably meant I said it wrong or my accent made me too difficult to understand. Swing and a miss…

The feeling I had on the mutatu is a hard one to describe. I wouldn’t say it was humiliating, but it definitely was agitating to be called out like that. Part of me wanted to come right back at the guy and explain to him that I was in the country trying to help and that he should maybe try doing something productive with his life. However, I thankfully restrained myself, opting to not let a drunk provoke me.

After I got off the mutatu and thought more about it, however, it really hit home how much truth was in what the man had said. Chances are that during his life he had seen and experienced countless hardships and tragedies: lost friends and family to diseases like AIDS and malaria, poverty, hunger, homelessness, war, genocide, etc. If I had lived through all of that, and still was relying on a burlap sack of tubers to get me through the next day, I’d be bitter towards people who were born into a world where they would experience few, if any, of the same hardships. Of course, alcohol and publicly making a show of someone aren’t the right ways to go about dealing with problems in life, but I can definitely understand why he was frustrated.

As uncomfortable as the experience was, part of me is happy that it happened. There definitely is an underlying tension among some people towards those in developed countries who, like me, have been blessed to have everything they ever need (and then some) provided. I just hope that the future generations of Ugandans will decide to do something more productive than resorting to waragi gin to fix the problem!

Cheers!
Chris

P.S. I feel like I need to add a disclaimer to this post: This occurrence was an isolated incident, so please don’t let it give a negative impression of Ugandans. The vast majority of Ugandans have been incredibly welcoming to me; this was just a unique experience I wanted to share.


Pic: Old Taxi Park in all its glory. The taxis I catch actually can’t be seen here; there is an “annex” that was recently added a couple blocks away – I go there to catch a mutatu headed toward my home.

First week of "lectures"

First off, sorry to all of those frequent readers (I’m assuming this group is composed solely by my mom) for such a long time between posts. This last week has been especially bad for writing due to a combination of electricity issues, internet crashes, and numerous small projects. Hopefully I’ll catch up a little in the upcoming few weeks!

My classes officially began last Monday (Sep 15); I reported to campus, not knowing what classes I was supposed to take or when they would be held and was pleasantly surprised to find that a class schedule had been posted. My first class was scheduled for 10:00 that day, but when I arrived for that class, there was only one other student there, who informed me that the professor and everyone else probably wouldn’t be coming. This, as I would find out, appropriately foreshadowed the upcoming days.

I was supposed to have two classes the next day, but I had been given the opportunity to spend the day in the Luwero District – about 50 miles north of Kampala – where a jatropha project was being implemented by VEDCO. Jatropha is a plant that is known for its ability to grow rapidly and in arid areas. The most exciting aspect about jatropha is that the oil obtained by pressing the seeds can be used directly in a diesel engine. There are definitely some technical issues that still need to be resolved with the plant – especially finding a way to increase plant yield and make harvesting more efficient – but jatropha has potential to make a huge impact in biofuels in the upcoming years, especially in developing countries. Anyway, I’m getting away from the theme of this post; I will probably do another post in the future about jatropha and some of the other energy projects with which I’m helping. The Tuesday jatropha visit was very interesting, but highlighted some of the challenges of implementing a jatropha project.

I came back to campus early on Wednesday so I could make it to my 8:00 lecture on time. Instead, I found the same student in the classroom, who informed me that we probably wouldn’t have classes that day, we hadn’t had any classes the day before, and we probably wouldn’t have any classes for the rest of the week. All I could do was laugh and think to myself, ‘TIA…’

I was back to the office on Thursday to work on setting up some of my research, and to double-check on the scheduled lectures. Once again, it was just me and the same classmate, Petros from Ethiopia, sitting in the classroom. Petros, however, informed me that we would be having a lecture the next day. This was going to be a special lecture given by a visiting from Norway (not from a professor who was supposed to be teaching one of our courses).

On Friday, September 19, nearly one month after I had first anticipated starting classes, I had my first lecture at Makerere University. It was an improvised/off-the-cuff lecture since the professor’s laptop was out of commission with 200+ viruses, and it covered several random topics, mainly revolving around the use of hydroelectricity in Norway. Let the studies begin! …maybe.

To cap off the first week (and every week thereafter for this semester), I had a lecture scheduled for 9:00 am on Saturday. The professor, naturally, didn’t show, but I came to campus and did some work just in case. Average for the first week of lectures: 1 out of 8 = .125, with the 1 coming from a pinch hitter (can you tell I miss baseball?).

So you’re probably wondering why lecturers/professors don’t come to class, right? Good question. I don’t know the exact reasons, but here are a few of the things that I’ve gathered:

• What I experienced was by no means an isolated event; it seems that the first few weeks of classes rarely happen. Beyond that it is just as likely for lecturers to skip class as it is for students
• Lecturers/professors at Makerere (and Africa in general) get paid a lower relative wage than those in the U.S. This means that many of them have jobs beyond their work at the university, typically some type of consulting.
• Funding in general is lacking at Makerere. Many of the buildings have deteriorated due to inadequate upkeep. There are some pockets of investment that are impressive, but overall, there is much to be done to improve Makerere. And dilapidated buildings & technology naturally have more problems that slow things down even more (i.e. electricity and internet issues that I’ve been dealing with every day).
• To say that things are unorganized over here would be the understatement of the century. For example, I don’t think our Monday lecturers even knew they were supposed to give a lesson on the first day of classes because the class schedule came out so late.
• My program is still very new (this is the first time these courses have ever been taught), so there are plenty of logistical problems that are being ironed out as we go.

Makerere is touted as the Harvard (or Oxford) of Africa. That may be stretching it, but for all of its shortcomings, the people at the university have been very impressive. There definitely are some top-notch professors here and some programs that are very well known. Although my program didn’t get off on the right foot, I’m still optimistic that it will turn out to be a very rewarding experience. Everyone I’ve talked to has only had good things to say about it, and since the program is funded by a Norwegian University and coordinated with two other universities in Addis Abbaba and Dar Es Salaam, it can bypass many of the problems that can hamper other Makerere programs. And, honestly, I didn’t choose Africa for a host country due to the academic rigor I might receive. I still consider myself lucky for finding this program in the first place!


Cheers!
Chris


Pic: The new Faculty of Technology building. Looks pretty nice doesn’t it? It should be finished just in time for me to miss getting to have any classes in it :)


Pic: This is where I get to hang out every day…let’s call in “homely”

Spoiled

At the beginning of September, I moved in with my host family. I had purposely chosen to have a temporary residence when I first arrived in the country in order to give myself some time to find a good fit for a host family. That decision, in hindsight, worked out very well for me.

I met Henry Kizito Musoke (goes by Kizito) while traveling with the ISU delegation during my first 10 days in the country. He serves as the Executive Director for VEDCO, the NGO with which ISU is closely associated in Uganda. When he heard that I was looking for a host family, he explained that he had an open “guest quarters” at his house and invited me over to look at it.

The arrangement turned out to be exactly what I was hoping to find – even better, actually. I wanted to live with a Ugandan family to experience a little more of the culture than I would get if I lived by myself in an apartment or campus housing. Kizito and his wife, Agnes, have 5 kids, ranging from 17 years old to 4 months old, so I definitely get to experience Ugandan family life. And Agnes is originally from Kenya, which adds even a little bit more to the cultural experience. I get to regularly eat Ugandan meals and we frequently discuss current events in Uganda and the world.

This, like I said, was exactly what I wanted to find. However, on top of this, Kizito’s “guest quarters” is actually a detached guest house, with a bedroom, a study room, a storage room, a bathroom, and a “kitchen” (sink with several cupboards). It’s like I have my own small house, and I am still welcome to come into the main house at any time in order to watch satellite TV or get food. I am served breakfast every day (or given it to-go if we’re in a hurry) and am served dinner whenever I am home during the family’s dinner time (ranges from 8:30-10:00 PM), which averages out to about 5 times a week. I will say that with what they’re giving me, I am being a charged a very unreasonable rate…unreasonable because I think it is far too little! However, Kizito insists that I only pay for food and electricity since they have it written into their mortgage/lease that they will not rent out the property to anyone. Yes, it’s safe to say that I am spoiled over here.

The only real downside is that Kizito lives about 13 km outside of Kampala. This is nice since it’s much calmer with less people and less traffic (and I don’t inhale ridiculous amounts of car exhaust when running). The problem is that it takes anywhere from 20 minutes to 90 minutes to go to or from the city, depending on the size of the traffic jam.

In the mornings I catch a ride into town with Kizito and Agnes, or, if I need to get into town earlier, I ride with the driver that they hire to take their second-youngest daughter, Patience, to day-school. Three of the other kids – Peter, Innocence, and Charity – all just went back to boarding school (boarding school is very common for children over here). That leaves Gloria, the baby, who stays home with “the other Agnes,” who works as a nanny/maid/cook. The other residents are Lillian, whom Kizito also employs as maid/cook, and Sam, the security guard who is on duty from sunset to sunrise. (Cultural note: I know it sounds like Kizito must be rich with the nanny, maid, driver, and security guard, but remember that labor is much cheaper in Uganda than in the U.S. It is very common for “middle-class” (using the term loosely) Ugandan households to employee a maid/cook and security guard. Kizito and his family are well-off, but by no means live in excess.)

Getting home can be slightly tricky. Sometimes I’m able to coordinate with Kizito or with Godfrey, the driver that picks up Patience after school. When that doesn’t work out, I will take a mutatu home if it is still light out (I’m still not comfortable wandering around the taxi park after dark). However, since it always gets dark a little after 7:00 here, I usually end up having to take a special-hire taxi home instead. Taxi drivers are very willing to give out their phone numbers here, and I have two of them – Jimmy or Frank – who I can usually rely on to get me home. It’s a little pricey since it is so far outside of the main city, but I figure my situation is more than worth the price of a couple taxi rides each week!

I am also learning what it’s like to live without internet access 24/7, since Kizito doesn’t want to spend the money to get internet in his home (they’re building a new home and plan to move within the next year or two). It’s actually a good experience; it makes me find other projects to work on at night and ends up being just one less distraction for me. I can also use it as an excuse when it takes me a few days to update this blog! :)

Cheers!
Chris

Day Trip to Entebbe

On Saturday a few friends asked me if I would be up for a day trip to Entebbe the next day. Not having any definite plans, and always up for a spontaneous adventure, I said that I was game.

Entebbe is the “seaside” city for Kampala, located on Lake Victoria about 30 miles south of the Kampala. It is the site of Uganda’s international airport, but I did not get to see much of the city since it was dark when I arrived. Even though it is much smaller than Kampala, it has an interesting history and did serve as the capital for a few years while Uganda was a British protectorate.

So yesterday (Sunday) morning I met up with two other Midwesterners that I have randomly linked up with while over here – Justin from Chicago (one of Tyler Strom’s older brother’s best friends) and Sarah from Wisconsin – and we hopped on a mutatu en route to Entebbe. The ride there wasn’t bad at all. The mutatu was full but there was plenty of airflow and no significant traffic jam, and it only took about 50 minutes to make the 30 mile journey. Definitely worth the $1.50 cost!

Our first stop was at a government mapping & surveying office. Supposedly they have very nice maps of Uganda, but being Sunday it was, of course, closed. I’ll have to check back next time I’m in Entebbe. The three of us then moved on to the Entebbe Botanical Garden, a beautiful park established in 1902. We saw plenty of native plants and animals (the vervet monkeys were definitely the highlight) and some interesting nonnative vegetation (who knew that cinnamon and nutmeg were both trees???). Add to that some gorgeous views of the lake and it was well worth our time.

We next went on a scavenger hunt trying to find a Lao restaurant that was mentioned in my Lonely Planet book (they made a specific differentiation between Lao and Thai, so we were interested). After walking for 45 minutes and covering most of the town, we decided that the place didn’t exist. I’m learning that all Ugandan maps showing locations of restaurants/hotels/attractions actually just give a general idea of the location, since this is the third time I’ve ended up wandering aimlessly with a group in search of a restaurant while following what we believed to be a credible map. We eventually settled on fish & chips at a local restaurant, along with a couple bottles of water to quench the thirst after the trek.

The second major stop of the day was the Uganda Wildlife Education Center, an animal orphanage established as a sanctuary for animals that wouldn’t be able to fend for themselves in the wild. The $10 admission fee was a little steep but definitely worth it when I got to have a free-ranging vervet monkey come up to me and start “petting” my leg. In addition to that, I got to see the lions, rhinos, chimps, monkeys, crocodiles, snakes, zebras, and several types of birds that were all housed in the park. We capped off the day with a few refreshments at a lake-side restaurant (although the lake is big enough that it feels like it’s ocean-side) before hopping back on another mutatu back to Kampala.

I was very impressed with Entebbe. It's a very attractive city that offers a much-needed break from the pollution and congestion that plagues Kampala. The entire trip lasted about 12 hours and cost a little under $25 – not a bad day at all!

Cheers!
Chris

Note: A few people pointed out a grammatical error from my last post: "brakes" should have been "breaks." Although the bus was in a dilapidated state, it did still have functioning brakes! Thanks for catching that!


Pic: Supposedly some of the old Tarzan movies were filmed in the Entebbe Botanical Garden...

Kenyan Highlights

I have returned from my trip to Kenya safe & sound, but definitely ready for a good night's rest! Before I head to crash though, I'll try to recount a few of the fun stories for everyone...

The main purpose of the trip was for an academic conference held jointly between Makerere University and Kenyatta University, with the meetings being held about 30 miles outside of Nairobi at the Kenyatta campus. The conference was based on improving postgraduate research in East Africa and was apparently the first time an international conference like this had been held in East Africa, at least to any of the planners' knowledge.

It was interesting to see some of the fanfare that went along with this "historic conference" (Africans, I am beginning to learn, love rhetoric). And as the conference played out it became apparent that in addition to the event itself, the planning for a trip like this had little historical precedent either, with several glitches popping up along the way.

The trip began with the Makerere delegation - about 35 individuals in total - climbing onto an old charter bus owned by the university and embarking on what I thought was to be a 12 hour drive to Nairobi. My seat, as fate would have it, was probably the worst in the bus. I was in the second to last row, with two people sitting on a bench that I believe was built with 12-year-olds in mind. Twelve hours into the ride, after being launched into the air several times from the numerous potholes in the road, we were still not close to Nairobi and I was having an optimism/pessism battle in my head. The optimistic side kept saying that it was great that I was getting to experience a truly "African" bus ride while the pessimistic side kept looking across the aisle at the student stretched out, asleep, over 3 open seats and asking "Why...?"

We eventually arrived in Nairobi, only to realize that Kenyatta University was another 30 minutes beyond there. We stopped for a short breakfast and then continued on to the KU of East Africa. We got to KU at approximately 1:00 pm, nearly 24 hours after starting our journey and with everyone having a minimal amount of sleep due to the jarring from the ride. Apparently, the exhaustian wasn't evident to our host, as he promptly started us on a walking tour of the campus (which, by the way, did look very nice). A few of the more vocal members of our group eventually convinced our host that we needed to get to our hotel to rest, so we hopped back on the bus and drove another 30 minutes to the hotel that the KU host committee had arranged for us.

I was given my room key and opened the door to find...actually it would be easier to describe what I did not find: toilet seat, secure room lock, shower stall (the faucet was almost directly over the toilet...so at least the water would go down some drain) and - most troubling - mosquito net. There was one thing that I did find: a strong smell of urine. After taking a few pictures (to be posted later) and laughing at my situation, since that was all that really occurred to me as options at that point, I went out to see the other delegates' room situation. Apparently it wasn't any better, as many of the others had already packed their bags and were refusing to stay in the hotel. My desire to not be high maintenance was outweighed by my desire to have a mosquito net, and I decided to pack up my bags too.

Luckily, after a little searching, our group was able to find a couple hotels fairly close to the location that were much nicer, and we all got a room where, after a quick meal, we promptly crashed for the night.

The next two days were the actual conference. Like I mentioned in an earlier post, it was an interesting topic, but I was more interested in just getting to Kenya, so I'll glaze over the conference proceedings. A couple interesting parts:
(1) Group introductions: We were asked to give our name, university, and degree program along with - and this was new cultural experience for me - our relationship status and religion. There were some very interesting answers given, including "married but looking for a second wife" (joking), "not married but with 8 children" (not joking...), and, my favorite, "single and ready to mingle" (definitely serious). Being asked to include our religion underscores the importance that religion still plays in society over here, but also showed a great deal of tolerance, as about 5-10% of the conference attendees were muslims and no one thought anything of it.
(2) Round two between African food & drink and my digestive system: this time the Immodium wasn't strong enough so I busted out the prescription-strength Xifaxan. We'll call this round a draw...

The third day was spent walking around Nairobi, after a bit of a slow start. We were told "the bus leaves the hotel at 9:00 AM sharp, with or without you." Translation: "the bus driver will show up around 9:30 and then we'll spend the next two hours trying to wire money so we can afford to buy gas."

Nairobi has a much different feel than that of Kampala; it feels like a major international city. There were times when I was walking around and it would really seem like I was in London or any other large European city. And although its crime tendencies precede it (Nairobi is commonly refered to as "Nairobbery"), no one in our group had any problems with theft.

We finally boarded the bus at 4:00 PM to head back to Kampala. Although I still got to enjoy a sound jarring from sitting in the back of the bus, I was able to have a sizeable increase in leg room, which helped substantially. We did still have a few interesting adventures on the way home, including finding ourselves on a road headed to Tanzania instead of Uganda, arriving at the Ugandan border at 1:30 AM only to realize that the customs agent was MIA until 4:00 AM, and driving a little too far down a road that had not yet been completed. When all was said and done, we arrived back in Kampala at 9:00 AM today (Friday) safe and sound (which is a testament to our driver, who drove the entire distance without any breaks!), approximately 13 hours later than originally scheduled in the itinerary.

As I read through this post, it comes off like the trip was just one thing going wrong after another. Although there were a few issues, I need to include that overall, the trip went very well and I'm happy that I went. I got to know some more very fun Makerere students and also got to see some absolutely gorgeous areas of Kenya as we drove through the country (one of the only places in the world where zebras range freely along the highways). True, there were a few problems along the way, but they are already just becoming more fun stories to share! And with that, I'm off to catch up on some sleep!

Cheers!
Chris

P.S. Please cheer extra loud for the 'Clones for me this weekend as I probably won't be able to get live play-by-play!

Being a minority

It’s an interesting feeling, that of being a minority. And it’s something that I wish everyone could experience at least once in their lives. If nothing else, it would make for a world that was a little more understanding and tolerant.

As I walk around Kampala, I stick out. Badly. On average, out of the hundreds of people I see each day, probably 3-5 of them are not black. The ratio is even lower when I’m in the rural areas of Uganda.

Being the minority automatically means that I get a little more attention – normally through a second glance – than everyone else on the streets. The reactions that I get from these second glances vary widely. Some – the children mostly – are curious and excited. Oftentimes children will just stand there and wave, hoping for a smile or some sign of recognition from the strange person walking down the street. Adults, on the other hand, have a wide range of responses. Indifference. Anger. Curiosity. A shrewd confidence (mainly boda boda drivers trying to rip me off). Occasionally even mocking. Mostly, though, it’s just friendly curiosity.

It has taken me awhile to realize this, however, because immediately upon entering Kampala I went into my big city mindset, assuming that everyone was trying to take advantage of me. It’s my defense mechanism so I don’t get ripped off – too badly – by drivers or retailers and so I hopefully can avoid getting pick-pocketed. However, as I have become more comfortable over here, I have reverted to some of my Midwestern tendencies. I’m happy I did, because it has allowed me to find out that a simple smile and “hello” works just as well over here as it did when walking around the streets of small-town Iowa.

I think the most interesting reactions I get are from the older children, teenagers who are still forming their opinions about foreigners and the outside world. Sometimes it’s easy to tell that they’ve been influenced by parents or elders, and they have the same negative reactions as some of the older faces I see. Most of the time, though, our eyes will meet and they will have no reaction, instead waiting to judge my reaction. At first, as part of my defensive mindset, I would just continue walking. But, I’ve realized that a smile and hello works just as well for a 15 year old as a 50 year old. They are just as curious as anyone else, wondering what this Muzungu is doing walking through the streets of Kampala.

The irony is that in Africa, as the minority, I am assumed to be rich. This, of course, is the opposite of the United States where minorities in small towns are stereotyped as criminals or homeless. In both situations, the common assumption is almost always incorrect.

At a surface level, I am strikingly different from everyone here. My skin is pale. I burn…easily. I grew up with everything I ever needed and then some. But, when you go a little deeper, there isn’t that much of a difference. We all want to live without fear. We all want a secure future. We all want the best for our families. The list goes on. Sure, there are cultural differences, but overall, we’re much more alike than we are different. It just takes a little role reversal to realize how true that statement really is.

Cheers!
Chris

(Side note: Sorry for the double-post in the same day. I've actually had this one written for awhile - I've just been unable to get it posted until now)


Pic: A few friends in Kamuli pose for a picture

A little progress...

It has now been four weeks since I left the United States. It’s taken a little bit, but I’m finally starting to see some progress with my work over here. Not much, but it’s definitely a start.

The past two weeks have, in large part, been setting up the logistics of living in Africa for 10 months. I have arranged health care, visited the American embassy, begun the process of transferring programs at Makerere (the end is hopefully near), enrolled in Luganda (the local tribal language) lessons, started some research in my master’s program, explored Kampala, and completed countless other small tasks.

The tasks, almost without exception, all have taken longer than I expected. I’ll give one example: getting keys to my office at the Faculty of Technology (I call it “my” office, but I really share it with about 8 others). To have them made, I was told that I should borrow a set of keys and take them to a key-maker. However, when I asked Nelson, a friend in the office, where the closest key-maker was, he informed me that I should go to downtown Kampala to be safer. If I had the keys cut close to the office, there would be a chance that the craftsman would make an extra key, follow me back, and then come back later and break into the office. Believe it or not, this is not something that frequently occurs in the middle of Iowa, and that thought had not crossed my mind. Nelson was kind enough to accompany me downtown since he knew a very good key-maker (side question: is the profession called key-maker or locksmith?). Nelson wasn’t getting much done in the office since it was Wednesday, which appears to be the day that power is cut off to Makerere! So, he and I jumped into a matatu and slowly made our way through Kampala traffic to the other side of town. We were dropped off by the matatu and navigated our way through the jam, eventually coming to a store that appeared to be a supplier of equipment for hair salons with a random key-cutter in the back. Of course, the craftsman was not in the store, so they called him and he said he would be back “soon.” Twenty minutes later (actually quicker than I had expected), he arrived. We gave the keys (10 in total) to be copied and then spent the next 90 minutes sitting in booster chairs talking. After the keys were cut and a price was negotiated, we made our way to the taxi park (picture about 250 matatus crammed into an area smaller than a football field) and navigated the chaos to find one that would take us back to campus. When I got back to the office, I found out 7/10 keys worked. Round-trip time: 3 hours. Successful trip!

Living here just takes a slight change of mindset. Things will take longer to get accomplished, but you learn to make use of that time. I usually have a book or notepad with me. In the case of getting the keys made, I got to talk with Nelson for 90 minutes and learn all about his childhood, which was fascinating. He grew up in Uganda during the late 70’s and early 80’s, a time when Uganda was anything but stable. His job - as a child - was to run to wherever he heard gunfire and apprehend the shooter. He learned how to handle everything from a handgun to anti-aircraft missiles. His job now: Lecturer on climate change mitigation & adaptation. If we hadn’t had 90 minutes to talk – or if he hadn’t been kind enough to take me to the store – I probably never would have learned all of that.

Still, it is frustrating to be in Africa and see so much that I could do to help yet be tied up with figuring out logistics. So, it was a relief when I finally got into some project work with my office (the Center for Research in Energy and Energy Conservation). Here’s a very condensed version of my first project:

• My task: Design a business structure for a rural community using oil from sunflower seeds to power an electricity generator.
• The main concept: Much of Uganda is not connected to the electricity grid (95% of the population, I believe). The community for this project is located in an area where many farmers raise dairy cattle and grow sunflower seeds. Farmers will be encouraged to increase sunflower seed production and use the oil to power a generator. This generator will supply power for a milk collection center, businesses, and homes. The milk collection center will then allow the community to sell milk to larger markets that were previously inaccessible.
• The problem: How to set up business interactions between all stakeholders so that the money is funneled to those who deserve it and not into the pockets of corrupt managers and officials.
• The potential solution: Use a nonprofit structure with an unpaid Board of Directors, selected by farmers’ cooperatives, that makes the major decisions. Use set term lengths to prevent consolidation of power, and let the board members’ inherent interest in success drive costs down and profits up.
• The next step: Arrange a workshop with the town where a business structure will be created with everyone’s collective input (local ownership is key), using this general model as a guide.

Like I said, it’s a start. And, my fellow engineers will be excited to know that I dusted off some flow-charting skills from freshman year to help visualize the setup.

I have a couple more days in Kampala before I take off for Nairobi, Kenya, for an academic conference. Supposedly, the conference is supposed to help all participants to be successful as graduate students. I think it will be good information to hear, and it will be great to meet all of the other participants, but to be honest, I’m more excited about getting to see Nairobi!

Cheers!
Chris



Pic: Marcy and I painting at Namasagali

TIA

Over the last few weeks, I have run into a commonly used phrase among ex-pats and other foreigners in Africa with increasing frequency. That phrase: TIA. It means “This Is Africa” and embodies the ‘we’re not in Kansas anymore’ mindset.

Here are a few fun examples:

I have been planning on updating this blog for several days now, however during the middle of the week, the internet in the office where I work stopped functioning. This happens frequently, with the internet normally magically returning a few hours later. This time, however, we weren’t so lucky. It’s still out. TIA

Since I’m used to the internet going out in my usual office, I have scoped out several other labs on campus where I can get online. On Wednesday I went to these other labs only to realize that electricity was out all over campus. No computers at all. TIA

I usually carry my laptop to and from campus with the idea that I’ll get some work done at home. I occasionally even follow through with that thought. Last week, however, when I arrived at home I was greeted with a propane lamp; the electricity wasn’t working. Again, this is common for electricity to go out different sections of Kampala, especially at night (I’ll give a nerdy explanation of this in a later posting), but this time it was special…the electricity was only out in the house where I stayed. The reason: the jimmy-rigged main feeder electricity wires were burning up (more in depth explanation at the bottom of this message). TIA

As you can see, electricity is not incredibly reliable over here. This is true for both the frequency of it working and the actual quality of electricity supplied. As you can imagine, I’m fairly paranoid of my laptop getting zapped by an electricity surge, so I brought my travel surge protector from home. However, the instant that I plugged the surge protector in for the first time, there was a huge flash/spark followed by an immediate blackout and smell of burnt plastic in my room. The reason: my surge protector was only designed for 60 Hz electricity. They run 50 Hz over here, which meant that I fried the inner circuitry and got to buy a replacement that would work on the electricity here. TIA

The shower that I use in the mornings has a lever that toggles a valve between flow for the faucet and flow for the showerhead. That lever broke two days ago – when I was about to jump in the shower after a run. I was drenched in sweat, so skipping the shower wasn’t an option. Instead, I get to just splash myself with water from the faucet. TIA

These are a handful of the fun moments I’ve had, and I’m sure that there are plenty more to come! It actually isn’t as bad as it sounds though. If anything, it makes me appreciate all that we can take for granted in a developed country. Being flexible definitely is a key trait while living here, and accepting that there will be plenty of fun stories (although they may not be that much fun the moment they happen) to share.

Well, the electricity is flickering right now - which means it's time for me to go!

Cheers!
Chris

P.S. I'm finally starting to get some pictures posted. You can find them at http://picasaweb.google.com/cwdeal

P. P.S. Electricity explanation for you fellow nerds out there: The main electricity feeder into the house is fused before it reaches the breaker panel. These fuses are all located on the exterior of houses and had recently all been stolen. As a quick fix, someone had taken a leftover cable and just short-circuited the fuse by connecting the two leads where the fuse was supposed to go. Two problems: (1) the main connection into the house had been partially severed during all of this and (2) the wire used for short-circuiting wasn't quite big enough to handle the current being drawn. TIA :)


Pic: Sunset over the Nile