The opposite of rall...

It’s been a pretty full on past two weeks as I’ve been dashing about the East of the country, frantically trying to fit in bits and bobs I’d hoped to see before I left (muffled sob). What’s made it more busy has been that there have (predictably) been a few jobs that have decided to become more complicated than expected or have been resurrected from the near-dead by forces beyond my control. What’s made it even more busy has been the desire to spend lots of quality time with friends here before I ditch them and go back to my real friends in the UK. And to top it all off, I keep stumbling across great books that are keeping me up at night reading. Needless to say, I’ll get back either be miserable company or sleeping, get excited!

Top of the list of exciting things was a little trip up to Karamoja which is a couple of districts north of where I am and has a wonderful reputation in Uganda (you probably can’t tell I’m being sarcastic here so I added this). The Karamojong are generally looked down on by everyone else in Uganda for being nomadic, cattle raisers who drink the blood of their cattle (like the Massai), often wear blanket things (I may have forgotten the word) (and until recently often didn’t wear anything), uneducated, thieves and violent people. The Karamojong are spread out in five different districts, none of which has a single paved road leaving you travelling on dirt roads that have been ruined by the huge ‘marble trucks’, gasping at the remote, arid, rocky, rugged and beautiful surrounds. The plus of the roads being in a dire situation is that it gives plenty of time to pause to take photos, especially if they carefully designed the worst bits to coincide with openings in the long grass where you can look up at Mount Elgon.

I liked it

Anyway, enough background! I travelled up on Sunday (22^nd) afternoon with Dr Jim (who worked with Dr Jan for a bit before moving up in Uganda) and stayed until Wednesday on the base the Presbyterians have there from which they do medical, church, health and education work, as well as running a really impressive engineering team that runs around drilling boreholes and the like. It was really interesting to see a very different clinic to both the Hospice and Buwasunguyi, due to the community, the aims, the funding and the people involved. Whilst at the clinic on Monday, I got invited to watch Dr Jim suture someone’s finger. I thought this would be a great idea as I was free and hadn’t gotten to see much medical stuff up close whilst I’ve been here (heard quite a lot though). A young boy had gashed open his index finger on his left hand and I survived the excruciating looking manner of anaesthetising the finger (so did the boy) but midway through the extensive and invasive cleaning process, I began to feel a bit queasy over the wound. I retreated and, realising I had drank anything for over three hours, rehydrated and re-entered. I lasted until Dr Jim started liberally tugging at the flaps of loose skin to line them up so he could finish the neat stitching before deciding it was probably wise to leave rather than embarrass myself. I’m thinking it might be quite a good thing I didn’t become a doctor…

Generally, I had an amazing three days in Karamoja, found the locals lovely and welcoming (even if some of the ladies did look like a little scary with their ceremonial cheek-bone scars) and those Presbyterians are really nice people! Different people took me in and fed me every evening and kept me well supplied with ginger beer.

I’ve also been doing travelling closer to home and, on Thursday last week, I finally set my eyes on Mount Elgon which was a great experience! This happened in the midst of training day for pastors in the Church of Uganda around HIV/AIDS (which I was naturally attending). I stole away after lunch to find the mountain and, after rounding enough corners and passing through enough banana plantations (I exaggerate only slightly) I saw it. Boom. I was a very happy man.

So, maybe I'm still quite a long way away, but it counts!

Even better, on Thursday some of us went out to a pork joint! Thursday was a public holiday set to honour one of the political parties (surprisingly it’s the one that’s been in power for over 20 years that has it’s own public holiday called ‘Liberation Day’ from when the present President led a coup) and we felt it best to celebrate with enormous quantities of pork. The weird thing is that I’ve gotten myself used to the ratio of meat to carb here (typically three pieces of meat which require careful rationing) but the pork was more meaty than one of those crazy, meat-fuelled places you’d get in the US somewhere. Needless to say, my stomach was responding like that of a vegetarian seduced by a bacon butty throughout Friday.

At a pork joint with friends, does it get any better?

Just as exciting as the pork joint was Saturday (21^st)’s entertainment which took the form of crazy golf! That’s right, one of the hotels here has a crazy golf course. Book your flights now. Brilliantly, the careful mismanagement of the course has ended up making it even more crazy with tree roots making straight lines an even more difficult ambition.

One week from now, I’ll probably still be writing a blog post but from the very different surroundings of my home (though I also might just be asleep in bed already). Needless to say, leaving is now quite a large part of life here and I’m slowly working out who I still need to say goodbye to, what I still need to finish etc etc. Effectively, this sprinkles special-ness over normally mundane aspects of life (I had my last posho and beans last Friday). I’m looking forward to being home and all that involves, especially Michael’s wedding, but there are huge numbers of things I’m now preparing to miss. What’s weird is that the things I’m going to miss from Uganda are almost the opposite of those things I miss from university; I’m intrigued as to whether the two will cancel each other out…

Anyway, needless to say I’m looking forward to seeing you Brits soon. I’m intending to be using the same UK number as before (+447815015582). Please do pray for my last week here, that things come to a good and Godly conclusion, but also for my future! That thing that lurks ever larger before me, needing slightly more attention than it’s currently getting…

Slow up!

In the midst of life here hurtling toward the 6^th of February, there have been plenty of times this past week where things have slowed down a bit and given space for fun and thought.

Tuesdays have recently taken a significantly more relaxed structure. Due to the Dr’s back still not being very good, she’s travelling less frequently on the rougher roads so I drive to the village even if there’s not that much for me to do. This week I dispatched some bits of accounts before reading more Tom Wright in the blazing sunshine. However, the real incident of note came on the way home. The dust on some of the roads to the village is intensely thick, but particularly behind lorries that are travelling at speed. I came to the top of a hill at the start of the stretch of road they’d recently repaired and just glimpsed a lorry ahead of me, cloaked in clouds of dust. Keen to overtake, I set off after him but soon couldn’t see much more than fifteen metres ahead. The visibility started to get even worse and I slowly realised this was probably because I was getting closer to the lorry. Just as I started to gently break, the lorry loomed no more than ten metres ahead of me. Exciting! I slammed the breaks, swerved round and smoothly overtook the lumbering lorry. Thankfully, the rest of the journey was more uneventful.

Tuesday evening’s Games Night was slightly shortened by Natalie being sick (though she was suspiciously still well enough to sneak to a Settler’s victory…). However, the bitter taste of defeat wasn’t the only thing I left the house with. I woke up at some unpleasant hour of the morning on Wednesday feeling pretty unwell and having those eggy burps that one get sometimes. Anyway, vomiting and diarrhoea later I ended up with the day off work. In some ways this worked out pretty well as there was this book I wanted to finish and I quite fancied catching up on some sleep. Still, it wasn’t necessarily an experience I felt I needed to have in Uganda. The absence of nice white toast or good cereal (Weetos are all over…) as a gentle re-introduction to food (and the presence of sticky rice with peanut sauce instead) was a bit of a downer, but I snuck the last piece of Christmas cake for my lunch so it was far from all bad.

Thursday evening was Sam’s last night in Uganda and Dan organised a bbq to mark the moment (the irony being that cooking things over charcoal has no novelty for most here). To make it even better, TJ brought back burgers and SAUSAGES from Kampala and Dan made some special kebabs. Sam’s been a wonderful part of lots of life here or the last two and a bit months, especially Christmas and New Year, and it’ll be different (in a bad way) without him, his cheeky face, his honest and open heart, his camera skills, his love of Incubus and (of course) his distinctly Australian take on the English language. The fact that I may win more board games without his insistence that no one should ever help or deal with Paul is some consolation, but his leaving definitely brings the prospect of leaving into clearer focus, despite that idea still being confined to a small corner of the picture. It may not quite yet be the beginning of the end but it is certainly the end of the penultimate scene.

To make the most of the evening, I even stayed over at BJH making it three nights in one week (not in any way linked to the fact that the bulb had gone in my room at home and I couldn’t be bothered to change it), living it up with more hearts and other drama. Then, to complete the emotional side of things, we even gathered to wave Sam off on his mammoth journey back to Australia that began with a 14-hour coach journey to Nairobi before a tangle of flights that finally deliver him home. I love being from England sometimes.

Sat on the kerb by the bird poo.. what memories

On Saturday I went to a traditional wedding. Now, I’d resolved in the past not to go to another due to the length and craziness typically involved, but this one had several important differences. Firstly, I actually knew the bride-to-be which made an amazing difference. Whilst there were still long, character-building waits for things, as soon as something happened to the bride it was okay, I cared, and that made the wait seem almost justified (except when the delays were simply the MC talking for no reason)! It was great.

The classic hunt for the bride.
Brilliantly, I heard the MC say to one of the ladies
"You do know what the bride looks like don't you?"

Secondly, I was wearing a kanzu! Some older men wear them all the time, but most just to Introductions and I finally got involved. Remembering to lift up the hem of the kanzu as I walked and other fun little things I’m sure ladies are good at brought lots of little entertainments that were randomly scattered through the day. The only drawback comes from the fact that kanzus are worn instead of a shirt in a suit and thus you still have the suit jacket and trousers. This is warm. Add to this the Ugandan love of being smart (and that just wearing the semi-transparent kanzu without a jacket would not be smart) and you’ve got an implicit rule against removing your jacket despite the baking sun. Toasty.


Yeah I look good in a kanzu!

Thirdly, I was a semi-official photographer so got to be the one walking in front of other people’s views rather than suffering myself… alright! I’d like to think my selections was partially due to my past work, but it was more that one of the two photographers hadn’t turned up so I was responsible for taking photos of the bride’s side (they had a photographer for each and then a shared video of the occasion). The day ended with a delightful drive home from the foothills of Mount Elgon where we’d been, down through little villages and past gatherings of people, all enveloped in complete darkness, and over dirt roads someone had forgotten to put the cat’s-eyes in.

In general, many work things are now drawing to a natural conclusion. The positive of this is that it doesn’t feel like I’m wandering off and leaving lots of unresolved jobs (though there is one that’s been on every to-do list since August) but the downside is that work life is definitely slowing down for me, despite us getting back to busyness after Christmas. Not yet sure how to spice that up, but I’ve learnt little jobs can come out of nowhere! If not, I might attempt a few short sight-seeing trips into the hills and maybe put some time into securing some semblance of a tan before I get back to the UK.

6 months, 6 reflections

I thought that rather than guide you through the intricacies of a week in the office with its accounting and administrative highs and lows (no joking, it’s been an emotional rollercoaster in the office what with…), I’d break off and give you 6 reflections to mark my passing 6 months in Uganda:

1. Language things here are generally fantastic. I still think it’s ridiculous that I can travel so far and still interact and chat with almost everyone I come into contact with. However, there are always a few unexpected problems. For example, one comes from “It’s okay” (as in “Would you like a soda?” – “It’s okay”) which here means yes. This problem is exacerbated by “It’s okay” being a common and catchy thing to say so there’s this urge to use it. People here are outrageously good at languages; most think nothing of the fact that they can talk 5 different languages completely fluently. Entertainingly, speakers will sometimes move to the language the translator is using if it expresses an idea better and the translator will move seamlessly to mirror the move. The local equivalent of Paul is Paulo. However, introducing myself as ‘Paulo’ always fails due to my accent being “very heavy” which leads to me reverting to ‘Paul’ and them then saying ‘Paulo’ at which I say then again say ‘Paulo’. They still fail to see the connection between the two words. Trying to make a joke about it sounding Italian does not work even if serious time is committed to a detailed, geographical explanation.

2. Ugandan money is funny. Firstly, it’s fantastically colourful with a great mix of gold, red, purple, green, blue and yellow. It’s like having a rainbow in your wallet. Then there is the scandalous number of zeros at the end of things to keep you on your toes, but I’ve slowly gotten used to spending TWO THOUSAND shillings on a coke. Still, things do get confusing cause sometimes you’re comparing how much a UK equivalent costs and sometimes how much a Ugandan equivalent costs. To keep things grounded, I use the helpful metric of chapattis (= 500 shillings). No matter how tasty or posh a meal is, it surely can’t ever be better than 40 chapattis? I used to use pineapples (which have a more constant marginal utility) but there were large seasonal price fluctuations which made it tricky.

3. People here have an inexhaustible love of giving speeches. Some of this comes from spontaneous love and enthusiasm, some from the fact that there are unspoken rules about every event (guests of honour must always be introduced and allowed to address everyone, even at a party), and some from a love of talking for the sake of talking (something I obviously know nothing about). One speech can contain several topics loosely related (or unapologetically unrelated). Thankfully, people here have phenomenal reserves of patience that help them deal with this and also with unfathomably long waits in a taxi waiting for one more person to join the next piece of the journey. If there were some way to monetarise this skill, people here would be loaded.

4. The difference between the dry and wet season is as stark as the names suggest and there’s no little medley of previous seasons within each season that England offers. People here have a hilariously small bracket of acceptable temperatures. A day can often begin too cold and then quickly become too hot. Coats and jumpers are donned to deal with the first and then fans used to combat the second. The dry season is very very dusty (as well as being dry) which is wonderful when combined with the seasonal sweatiness. The road I walk to work has about 1cm of dust (it does! Well, at least at the edges… It’s like snow but less exciting and less enjoyable) on which would mean that I arrived pleasantly bathed in sand were it not for the lorry that has usually gotten stuck blocking the road and meaning no major traffic uses the road that day.

5. Being smartly dressed is always good. Being in town without a shirt on is almost sacrilegious. There’s not really a “I’ve just taken a break from some manual job to buy something quickly” excuse; you’re supposed to bathe, change into a shirt (plus a belt and ideally a tie) and then pick the thing before changing back again. Similarly cleanliness can be found in the most unexpected places. You can get around town on a motorbike taxi for 12.5p if you’re feeling particularly aggressive in your negotiating, yet these bikes will almost always be spotlessly clean. Even if the outside of a house is filthy, you can be sure the inside will be well swept and neatly presented. Basically, if something is privately owned, it’ll be tidy and clean; if it’s a public space or road, you won’t be so lucky.

6. Ugandan food has some wonderful highlights (cooking things with charcoal is often amazingly tasty). Food at most places is ideal and special function food is fantastic. Basically you get a bit of all the good stuff which makes all of them better. However, it does also have some problems. Most things typically contain oil. It’s often sneakily snuck into things you thought might have been healthy like cabbage, beans, rice… anything, it’s got oil in it. Also, bread here is not great. Memories of Sainsburys Basics bread are now very precious to me.

A Ginger New Year

There’s something different about the week after Christmas. I guess some of it is Christmas excitement gently subsiding whilst other bits are from the clashing of holiday mentality with going back to work for a whole 3 days before relaxing again. The festive feelings were helped by several treats in the delightful form of Christmas pudding, Christmas cake and delayed Christmas presents. In some ways, the fact that the presents were delayed so much has pleasantly stretched out the Christmas season (like when you can’t be bothered to take the Christmas decorations) but I don’t feel too inclined to write to thank those responsible.

Yes late Christmas presents!

Tuesday only required limited work, predominantly as a chauffer taking clinical staff to and from the village. To my delight, they’ve been doing a few road repairs so a route that is both prettier (which is genuinely saying something) and faster than the usual route has been brought back from the dead. I did have to use my work-brain once or twice (and it wasn’t too painful) but I spent most of the day reading Tom Wright and playing hearts which I thought was a decent 27^th Feb.

In fact, the evening made it even better as we finally started on the rather large Christmas pudding we’d been given. However, as might be expected, nothing’s quite as simple here. Unfortunately, the Dr doesn’t have a microwave so I’d travelled to the village and back with the pudding before stopping off at BJH (which also doesn’t have a microwave). It took a brief tour of mzungu houses in Senior Quarters before I found the right combination of someone being in and having a microwave (thanks Manna) before I set the wheel of the microwave in motion and then drove back across town in record time where the Dr had been coordinating her heating of the brandy sauce. It worked beautifully.

I actually managed to get some work done on Wednesday and Thursday, but more exiting by far was realising that there were lots of job I was no longer needed to do or that required my participation only in the form of sitting passively behind the administrator in question in an supportive way (something I like to think I’ve always been good at). This has happened several times recently, and I find it really encouraging and also releasing.

Yes Ginger!

In that spirit, I left on Friday to spend New Years in Jinja with Nat, Dan and Sam. I remembered to bring my toothbrush, books AND sun tan lotion, but did leave my towel at home which excused me from trying to meet Natalie’s request that all the boys showered EVERY evening. It was a great weekend, relaxing, playing games and reading at this place that has a gorgeous view of the Nile; a view that often included monkeys climbing in the trees, lizards swimming in the river and lots of exciting birds. The place also offers the Grade 5 Rafting (playing Settlers is way cooler) so there were quite a few large tour groups which was a bit different to normal life here, but was also sometimes funny.

As much fun as the various games and banter were the first night, the most notable thing was my meal. We’d gone to the posh restaurant that’s a 30 seconds walk from where we were staying and I’d dodged the expensive meals and gone for Kiddy Ribs, holding out hope that it was one of those places that cooking so much it didn’t really do kid meals. I was not disappointed; all I’ll say is that if a kid can eat that many ribs he deserves to have a medal placed round is incredibly fat neck. Unfortunately, when everyone joined in for an attempted repeat the following night it seemed someone with greater experience of children had taken over in the kitchen as the portion was decidedly manageable.

Just after the New Year

The New Year itself was marked by a countdown and fireworks (though they did bear an unshakeable resemblance to 8 flares being shot by sinking ships). After the hugging and handshaking was over, we did what all cool 20-somethings (that’s an upgrade for you two, Dan and Sam) did and got on with some more Hearts. As a pleasant change, there was also beer and wine available (all of our organisations have no-alcohol policies when in Mbale).

Monkey!

Being woken on Sunday morning my monkeys eating fruit nosily on the roof of our dorm was a nice break from roosters* and we had another relaxed morning before heading back to Mbale which had a delightfully homey feel to return to.

January should have quite a different flavour to it. I’ve got a few new jobs lined up, the most unusual one being teaching a clinical officer to drive. Still, I’ve also got the final stages of quite a few different projects, some which are still going from when I started such as finishing accounts ’10-’11 take 2 (now with improved software), general banking dramas (starring Barclays and Stanbic in a battle of ineptitude and lost paperwork), trying to convince the government to give us the money it owes us and then little things here and there which it would be cool to have done before I go.

And then there’s life beyond January! Five weeks from now, I’ll be back in the UK which is an exciting but also sad thought. I’m very very excited about what 2012 has in store, but I’m also starting to occasionally feel sad about leaving. I realised it’s the first time I’ve left somewhere on my own and of my own decision (as in not as part of a group leaving to go off somewhere as at school, Bible college or uni) and it’s also the first time I’ll be leaving without knowing for certain what I’ll be up to next to (though I’ve got some things lined up in Feb that should be life-landmarks ;)). I’d really appreciate prayer around what God wants for me when I get back, that He’d give me wisdom in finishing well here, both with work and relationships and that he’d guide my emotions to His plan.

*Loads of the chicken have been dying from a chicken disease that’s making the rounds at the moment. I find some parts of that sad. Thankfully Bernard is doing well plus, with the demise of his competition, he’s now started to rule the roost! If he ever starts crowing outside my bedroom window, I’ll start to be seriously conflicted.