Gulu, In Pictures

I have made it back to Gulu after another week in Kampala.  The good news is, I made it through the week without any tragedies, calamities, or breakdowns.  I'm making progress!!  I had a bit of an odd day yesterday, though not entirely unique to Uganda.  As many of you probably already know, I love making lists, so here's another one:

1.  Mailed some stuff and licked stamps for the first time in years.  The stamps included one of the Pope's visit to Uganda in 1983.
2.  Got lost on a boda in an industrial neighborhood called Ntinda.  That was after the driver assured me he knew how to get me where I needed to go.
3.  Ate a grasshopper.  On purpose.  The lovely lady selling me seed beads and jewelry wire insisted.  So I finally caved.  It....really wasn't bad.  I'm not going to run out and buy a full serving for myself or anything (I can't take the eyes staring at me) but it certainly didn't make me gag.  This is huge for me, folks.  I don't do bugs.
4.  Was grabbed a little too aggressively by a fellow selling in the market.  I threatened to hit him (by, you know, swinging my fist quite near his face.)  He screamed like a girl and backed down.  He then tried to recover his bravado in front of his friends of course, but I think he'll think twice before grabbing/pulling the next "Mzungu" girl.
5.  Figured out how to cut a full day and $50 off my next and subsequent Kampala trips.  (Given that all goes well with the printers, that is.)  Yippee!
6.  Saw one of the huge cranes that fly around Kampala get hit by a car and get back up again.  I think he was gimpy and couldn't fly because he was just hobbling around both before and after the hit.  Poor little guy.  Or maybe he was drunk?
7.  Went grocery shopping at a real supermarket and dropped too much money starting my food supply for the next six months.  All the little spices and cans of chickpeas (!) really add up quick!  But I'm so excited to go home and cook!!!
8.  Ate dinner at the hotel to the soothing teenage rock tunes of the late '90s.  God must've spent a little more time on you!
9.  Finished the evening off watching a movie (Young Victoria) on my laptop thanks to the generous expat community's shared movie files....  

Quite a day!

Now, to make up for the last post with no pictures, I thought I would take you all on a picture tour through Gulu.  The following are most of the places I visit on a regular basis.  It's not exhaustive, but it'll give you a decent idea of my little world.  So......here we go!!

W E L C O M E   T O   G U L U ! !

We're starting at the house I spent my first four months in.  This is the front side that you would see from the main road that leads to Kampala.  I lived around the back side on what would be the left side when looking at this photo.  The middle there is the small shop they ran out of their home.

We're walking, we're walking....

This is where my office was.  I say was because David hired a few more people and there just wasn't room for me there anymore.  I'll be working from home now when I'm not with the women, which has been a whole lot more in the last month or so than before, so it's just fine by me.  Still, I spent an awful lot of time here my first few months, so I thought you all should see the place.  It's all locked up because I took the photo a few hours ago - Saturday afternoon.  It's usually bustling with people concerned about their savings.

Let's move on to the market.

This is the entrance/outside street of Owino Market.  Same as in Kampala, Owino translates to Everything, though it's MUCH smaller than the one in Kampala, and much less pushy.  Still, you really can find just about anything here.

Anyone care to stop and shop?  Table runners, anyone??

Here we've arrived at my church.  I visit every Sunday morning and often on Friday evenings (they do ward activities every week at 5:00pm followed by ward choir - recently started by yours truly.)  We'll be moving buildings soon for two reasons; one, as you can see, this place is kind of a dump....  two, we're busting at the seems in here!

These two women happened to be at the church when I went to go snap a shot of it and insisted I take their photo.  Ugandans LOVE  having their picture taken.  They want to see the display screen and they want you to have it.  That's all. 

OK, let's move people!  Follow the umbrella!!

We've now arrived at the Gulu branch of the Uganda Post Office.  I visit almost daily.  Though I rarely have mail.  Pathetic?  Maybe.  Mostly just desperate for some contact from the outside world.  Do you feel guilty now?  Don't feel guilty, just send me something!!  :-)  I really wanted to take a picture of the red side of the building for my Ugandan Profundities segment because it used to be HOT PINK!!  I laughed every time I saw it because where else can you find a pink government building?!  Nowhere, only in Gulu.  But then, they painted it while I was in Ecuador.  Tragic!!  I still lament the loss of pinkness regularly. 

 

Upwards and onwards, folks!  

Now we've reached the Momma Florence home.  They are one of my favorite families here in Gulu.  There are seven children and the mother (occasionally the father, but he's in the military stationed in Central Africa) staying in this tiny one room apartment.  When I say one room, think "old log cabin" one room.  As in, this door you see here is the only one in the home.  I'm not really sure how they manage it, but they do.  And they are one of those families where everyone is welcome all the time.  In fact, this photo has only one of their seven children in it (you can only see part of her head, she's hiding in the back.)  The rest are just neighbors hanging around waiting for the rest of the family to come home. 

This is Happy - she's the one hiding in the other photo.  She's standing in the alley you have to walk through to get to her home. 

Vhen du willst (that one's for you Meaux and DLJ!) let's stop here at Pece Stadium.  I wouldn't say I come here regularly, but lots of events are held here.  Rugby, football (soccer), political speeches, etc.  Today was the high school field day with lots of loud music blaring out of those over-sized speakers.  I seriously can't figure out how those kids can stand that close to them! 

We're now arriving at BJz.  This is the pub that holds the pub quiz every Thursday night and is where a lot of the expats hang out on the weekend.  It's also where I watched my first real rugby match and fell in love with it. 

Let's keep moving.

Here we have my current residence.  I moved in with my friend Tiziana on the first of June, and she has been a very gracious host for the last few weeks.  Thankfully though, I think I have found a permanent place to move in to (*fingers crossed*, *knocking on wood*) so I should be moving out again soon.  It's a house split in two, we live in the right side.

Good work, people!  We've reached our last destination; where I am seated right now, due to yet another power outage; Coffee Hut.  It's the place that has free internet, only with over-priced Americanized food.  It definitely serves a purpose, and I have been grateful for it on many occasions, but I think I have just spent too many hours in here.  As you can see, this is another expat favorite.  Or near necessity, take your pick.  Anyone care for a milkshake while we're here?

And there you have it, folks!  The wonderful, busy, small, dirty, and yet fairly enchanting town of Gulu.  That's my world for a year.  It's little, but I'm happy with it.  Thanks for visiting, we hope you have enjoyed your stay and we hope you come back soon!

You Are Now Leaving Gulu. 

Vignettes

Sorry for the tardy post.  Busy weekend + no power + dead battery = no blogging.  However, I'm now back in Kampala for an emergency trip to get  more paper.  So I have nothing to do at night and can post.  I decided to just write a few very short stories to give a feel of life here from another angle.  Between my being stuck in Kampala and the changing the style means no photos... Sorry!  Hopefully you'll read anyway!  OK, I'll throw in a photo, just for fun. 

Main traffic circle in Gulu Town just before a storm.

Succulent Seventh Sin

I had been craving pineapple all day long.  Mouth-watering, sugar-part-of-the-brain-screaming, is-this-what-it-feels-like-to-be-pregnant?, craving.  I had some errands to run in town, so on my way back to the office I stopped into the market and purchased and lovely golden pineapple.  The woman selling it offered to cut it for me and I agreed wholeheartedly because truly, I wanted to eat the entire thing myself.  All at once.  I knew if I took it home for Concy to cut for me I would have to offer it for dinner to be shared by all.  But I wanted to horde all the golden citrus in my own stomach.  She only cut the prickly outside off the fruit, which I found a bit odd, though sufficient.  Happily I bounded back to the office, sacked pineapple in tow.  I finished my work for the day with the pineapple sitting on the corner of my desk, staring at me, reminding me every two minutes that it was waiting for me.  And then the rain came.  It was the beginning of rainy season and I had fairly forgotten the inevitable storm right at the moment I would try to head home.  I was starving by this point and the pineapple had now gone from mere bi-minute reminders to downright taunting.  So I caved.  I picked that pineapple up by its end and shoved my face right into the middle of it.  I chewed with great satisfaction and a big grin on my lips. Again I dug in right to the middle.  And then again, and again and again – just like I was eating corn on the cob.  Only with juice dripping down my face, left and right and spattering on the floor.  I tied my handkerchief around my neck to catch the flow and then watched the rain fall out the back door as I gluttonously finished the pineapple.

First Encounter

It was my first bus ride up to Gulu, I’d been in the country less than 24 hours.  I’d had no idea what to expect from this bus.  I half expected to board the back of the truck and sit on a wheel-well for five hours with chickens in coups next to me.  But this was actually a bus-bus.  Kinda ghetto, well, pretty ghetto, but a bus with cushioned seats and all.  There were three seats on one side and two on the other.  I felt lost and like I didn’t know which way was forward as I walked back to the first empty aisle seat I could find – on the three seat side.  I asked the kid next to the window – looked to be maybe 17 – if I could sit.  He smiled a friendly smile and said what I think was, “Yes, of course.”  I found a place for my bag overhead and sat.  Window kid said something directed at me.  “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”  

“What is your name?”   

Ah, names, OK, I do that.  “Morgan.  What is yours?”    

He said something, I know he did, I just had no idea what it was.  I knew these people would speak English, and I knew it would be with an accent, but I didn’t expect it to be an accent I couldn’t understand at all.  I repeated what I thought he’d said, but he shook his head and said again, “Ton Ton.”   

“Ton Ton?” I asked.  He nodded and smiled.  Our conversation continued this way for as long as I could take pretending to understand him with his accent over the roar of the bus engine and its horn that sounded like a virtuosic saxophone bleating every 30 seconds.  I started to write in my journal, looking up every few minutes to see if there were giraffes in the distance.  There weren’t.   

I braved conversation again and asked Ton Ton if I would see any animals on the ride?  He nodded, confirming that I would.  “There are gorillas all along the road.”   

I was astounded, “Gorillas?” I asked incredulously.  I had expected wild animals, but gorillas?  Out here in the open?  Unbelievable!  I couldn’t wait.  I looked up from my journal with more frequency for the next hour.  I didn’t see a thing, so I concentrated a bit more thoroughly on my journal.  Until Ton Ton tapped my arm and pointed.  And lo and behold, there was a “gorilla.”  Standing in the middle of the road.  OK, not a gorilla in the slightest, actually.  A baboon.  I didn’t know yet that Ugandans call anything resembling a monkey by the name “gorilla.”  But I was thrilled and stretched and strained my neck to watched the baboons crawl around the road, nonchalantly getting out of the bus's way. 

When Pigs “Fly”

The missionaries from my church had asked me to go with them to visit Nancy, a girl who was to be baptized that Sunday.  We were supposed to leave at 7:00 pm – dusk.  In typical Ugandan fashion (and I think typical missionary fashion) they were running late, so we didn’t leave until 8:00 pm – full dark.  I didn’t realize until they showed that these were not the missionaries with the truck, these were the missionaries that “foot it,” as they say here.  We set out heading north towards town on my busy unlit road, walking briskly and passing many of the ever-slow-going Ugandans, trying not to trip over the liter and pot holes along the way.  One guy saw us pass and decided to keep pace.  He began asking them if I were available to marry.  Elder Mbunda thankfully detoured him by saying in his eager way, “I don’t know about that, but I know the gospel has been restored!”   

Tag-A-Long Guy persisted, “Yes, I am also a believer in God.  But what of this one?  Can I get her name?”   

Elder Mbunda was also persistent, and still eager, “That is not important, this is important; the gospel has been restored!”  When Tag-A-Long Guy finally realized he was getting nowhere, he lagged behind.  We chortled about that all evening.  “That is not important!  THIS is important!”  We finally turned off to head toward the village that housed Nancy.  As we walked amidst the deep ruts in the dirt road we suddenly heard a child scream - High-pitched, elongated, and clearly in pain.  And the scream seemed to be coming nearer.  We simultaneously heard the unmistakable hum of the “boda” taxi motor coming our way.  We quickly shuffled to the side of the road so as to get out of the way, all the while trying locate the source of the scream that was now growing louder and more painful to listen to.  I realized as the boda was nearly upon us that the screaming child was actually on the motorbike.  I suddenly snapped into fight mode, ready to protect this poor child.  Until I realized as the bike passed us, the screaming was actually more of a horrified squeal and was coming from a fat pink body rather than a skinny black one.  Mr. Boda had a live, full-sized pig strapped to the back of his bike. 

Double or Nothing

I boarded the bus at 6:30 am for my first supply trip down to Kampala.  I found an empty row and took the window seat on the west side of the bus so as to avoid the oppressive sunshine that would soon beat down on the non-air conditioned bus. The empty seats were quickly filled by a young girl of about 13 years sitting next to me and a mother holding a baby on her lap in the aisle seat.  We’d been driving about two hours on the six-and-a-half-ish hour bus ride when the girl next to me very quietly leaned forward and vomited.  All over her skirt and handbag.  She didn’t say anything, the woman next to her didn’t say anything, so I didn’t say anything, I just stared in shock thinking, Did that really just happen?  The bus just kept moving and no one noticed or thought anything of it.  She a had a plastic sack with clothing in it at her feet and she dug out a black tank top and began mopping up her mess.  Finally, after getting my bearings and taking in exactly what had just occurred and how stuck I was, I asked if she was alright?  She didn’t acknowledge my question – she very well may not have understood me.  The woman next to me told me it was motion sickness.  I offered her a hard candy to suck on and gave her a plastic bag I had in my purse, because you just never know when you’re going to need a plastic bag.  After finally reaching Kampala at nearly 2:00 pm, I negotiated with a boda driver to get me and my bag to my hostel.  I walked in and asked for a single room.  They didn’t have any.  What do you mean you don’t have any??!  I need a room!  I’ve got to get out of these vomit-smelling clothes!  But the incredibly insouciant receptionist insisted, there was no single room.  Well, is there a double?  Nope.  I huffed like a spoiled American, sat down on the lobby floor (if you can call it a lobby, which, I don’t think you can) and pulled out my laptop and internet modem to try to look up another hostel I’d heard of but had no idea where it was located.  I wanted to make sure it had a room before I trekked across town to no avail.  What was I supposed to do if I couldn’t get a room there either??!  Just as I was connecting, a maid came to the receptionist who then told me a double room had just become available.  Great.  Get me in there.  The maid took me to the room and opened my door.  She showed me in and went over to the window with a bed directly in front of it and started to open the curtains.  In her attempt to do so, she pulled the whole thing, rod and all, down on top of her.  I dropped my bags and rushed over to help put them back up.  We were finally successful, though the curtain rod was very precariously perched on the wall and I could see exactly why they came down.  Then the maid proceeded to try to open the curtains again.  Again, they came down on top of her.  Again, we got them back in place and again she tried to open the curtains.  This time I curtailed her curtain attempts and told her I didn’t need to see outside.  I liked them closed, just as they were. 

Ugandan Profundities Part Aryo (Two)

Welp, had a productive week this week:

1.  Distributed lots of supplies to my women.
2.  Drank an ant in my mango juice by accident.
3.  Speaking of ants...they infested my Musli this morning.  I ate it anyway.
4.  Moved from my wonderful room of the last four months into a friend's spare room (temporarily.)
5.  Bought a chicken for the family I've been living with as a thank you gift.  I carried it alive.
6.  Spent an entire day just trying to get cookies, popcorn and soda for an activity I was in charge of.
7.  Helped get a girl from my church congregation out of prison.
8.  Finally came up with a picking pattern I like for House of the Rising Sun.  It only took me a year....
9.  Killed a cockroach the length of my thumb.
10. Taught twenty young girls between ages 12 and 18 to make daisy chain bracelets.


That about sums it up.  And now, time for another installment of.....

UGANDAN PROFUNDITIES!!!

I have to say, it's getting harder to see the profundity of Uganda these days.  I'm just getting used to all the craziness around me.  I take that as a good sign really.  However, there is enough randomness and irony surrounding me, it's still quite possible when I think about it to come up with this stuff.  So here goes:

First: The Usage of the Floor.  People use the floor for everything here.  No table space?  No  problem, just do it on the floor.  This photo is of a couple guys at my office making coffee in the morning.  What do you suppose would happen if you just decided to plunk yourself down on the kitchen floor at work and start fixing coffee or lunch?  I dare you to try it! 

Second: Heavy Coats and Sweaters.  I know I mentioned before how people here think it's freezing now that it's rainy season.  Well, a few weeks ago my regular boda drivers (motorbike taxis) came to pick Fiona and me up to head to a village.  The sun was shining bright - in fact I'm pretty sure I got sunburned that day.  But Ray and Jerom were both sporting mid-winter wear.  Don't get me wrong, sometimes it gets cool here.  For like ten minutes.  Wait, what season is it?  Oh that's right....still hot when the sun shines season.

Meet Ray and Jerom....and Santa Mickey?

Third: Lawn Mowing, I Mean, Lawn Slashing.  Never seen a lawn mower since I've been here.  Just guys with machetes called slashers (both the guy and the machete) swinging back and forth, taking out weeds, grass, and whatever else happens to be in their way.  The tailors here use the old pedal Singer sewing machines, so I haven't figured out why guys here don't use the old 1950s style mower.  Either way, dad, just be thankful next time you have have to mow you don't have to go about it like this.

 

Fourth: Mis-Labeling of Everyday Objects.  Salt or pepper?  Vegetable oil or water?  Men's or women's bathroom?  Does it really matter, afterall?

Fifth: The Issue of Water.  It's one I clearly do not have a grasp on.  My first few months I was here, there was always water in our tap.  Then it started raining, and the water started disappearing.  More often than not I would wake up, go to the bathroom, go to wash my hands only to turn the knob without result.  Awesome.  We started collecting rain water to wash dishes and clothes in, and Amony would get water from the well.  So....this is often what my shower water looked like.  Before I showered.  Didn't always necessarily feel cleaner when I was done, but I generally smelled better at least....

Sixth: More on Animals.  I'll mostly let the video speak for itself, but just take note, my church is right in town.  Just a couple blocks off the main street.  Also, the guy at the end of the video was trying to ask for money.  People love to try to get money off anyone taking pictures of anything that remotely belongs to them.  The grass in the their yard, the over-sized speakers in their truck, their children.  It's pretty awesome. 

Ugh!!!  It won't load my video again!!  Anyone know why I have this problem?  It was a very amusing video of a heard of cattle causing a traffic jam on a Sunday morning right outside my church.  If I can ever get it to work, you'll enjoy it....

Seventh:  The Issue of Flies.  I watched Into the Wild last night, and the part where he kills the moose?  This was the first thing I thought of.  Walking through the market there is an entire metropolis of flies.  But no where worse than on the fish and other raw meat.  This picture doesn't do it justice, because everytime I'd get close enough to snap a shot, most of them would fly away.  But you get the idea.  To their credit, the women selling the fish have these little broom swatter things they're always waving around trying to keep the flies off, but, yikes.  I would just never ever ever ever buy this stuff.

Eighth: The "Supermarket."  That's what it's called, I swear to you.  So, think of your local CVS or Walgreens.  Think of how often you would consider going there for a legitimate grocery shopping experience.  Well, folks, that's what I have here.  Anything outside of the fruits and veggies I can buy in the market, I have these two little shelves to choose from.  Now there are several stores in town, about the same size, selling basically the same thing, though every once in a while you can find a gem.  But mostly they sell kitschy toys and super cheesy picture frames.  All I want are some chickpeas!! 

Well, folks there you have it.  I hope you've enjoyed this broadcast.  Tune in next time for another round of UGANDAN PROFUNDITIES!  (Well, probably in a few months....)

K'la For Short

I spent nearly all of last week in Kampala.  I have always said I didn't like Kampala, largely because the first time I went it was just highly overwhelming.  Well, this time I knew what I was in for, so it wasn't nearly so bad.  Don't get me wrong, I'm still not in love with it, I still prefer Gulu, but I didn't come home in hysterics this time like I did last time.  Part of that was thanks to my new best friend, Kristin Barlow.  She's from Connecticut and has the same job as me, only for a different organization.  She's been here nearly three years now and knows how to maneuver and get what she needs, so she gave me a lot of tips and it was extremely helpful.

Terrible picture, but you get the idea.

While I'm in Kampala, the name of the game is paper, paper, paper.  I go to what is called Owino Market (Owino translates to "everything" - and it's quite literal.)  It is an enormous market and there are about a million people there at any given moment (OK, so a million may be a slight exaggeration, but not by much.)  As I walk through the "aisles" I am bumped, pushed, knocked in the head by large loads being carried on other heads, and any number of people are calling out "Muzungu!" (White Person!) simultaneously.  I've gotten pretty good and at ignoring the calls, and this time I tied my hair back so no one was tempted to reach out and stroke or pull or touch it.  And only a few people couldn't resist the compulsion to grab my arm to see what white skin feels like, compared to the dozens that grabbed at me last time.  After I make my way through the maze for a bit, I find myself in the midst women seated high up on stacks and stacks of old paper.  They see me and start pulling from the stacks to show me how great their paper is.  I have to sort through the bazillion stacks and find what actually is good paper - paper that will create interesting beads, or the right thickness of paper to be re-printed with a color our buyers are looking for.  The large orders being placed lately take a lot of paper.  A lot.  I probably brought home close to 200 lbs of paper this time.  The women tie it up according to whose stack I pulled it from, weigh it and then throw it in a woven sack to be carried out.  Both times I've been I've paid a guy to carry it out for me - either to a car parked far a way or to the bus park, also a ways away.  Both times the paper has weighed more than me and the guy has been considerably smaller than me.  I do not know how they do it.  Literally.  But somehow they manage to haul the paper up onto their backs and then make a beeline for their destination.  In the end, they are men I don't argue with when they tell me their price - they deserve every shilling. 

The awesome crowed printing office with the age-old printer.

Next I visit the printer to print over paper that would make terrible beads as is.  As many things are in this country, it was a struggle.  I spent several hours three days in a row trying to get the colors right.  It still was only sort of right in the end.  Part of it is miscommunication while the other part is just that the beading operations (I'm not the only one who visits these printers) are so much more specific because Americans are buying them than anything Ugandans order.  They can't quite wrap their head around why an orangey red isn't just as good as a brick red.  And I see their point.  But not everyone would, so we have to try again.  Friday was particularly frustrating.  I was there for nearly six hours and we only finished one color.  Electricity kept going out, the guys took a long lunch break, it was a very tricky green color, etc., etc., etc.  Point being, when it all ended I was out of time and had to buy the remaining supplies elsewhere in the city so I could head back to Gulu the next day.  I left the printers with a lavender sample and when I received it on Sunday it was burgundy.  Sigh.  We'll try again next time. 

I made a few lists while I was there:

Reasons I Hate Kampala:
1.  My taxi driver told me it was "unconstitutional" to be 28, unmarried and without children. 
2.  Every expat I met that is living there made some comment to the effect of, "It must be so nice for you to come down here to civilazation once in a while."
3.  I had to pay to use the toilet (a squatter of course)  - they handed me an inconsequential amount of toilet paper and I had to flush the toilet myself by pouring water down the drain - most women just threw water into the stall, so the floors were all comepletely flooded.
4.  I may or may not (really don't know here) have seen a dead body laying by the side of the road.
5.  There are no traffic laws - just like in Gulu, only here there are thousands and thousands more cars.  No stop lights (not even stop signs,) no lines on the roads, no sense of right-of-way, so getting anywhere by car takes hours.  Literally.  Think DC traffic jam on steroids.


Reasons I Like Kampala
1.  I got to see a movie in a movie theatre, with movie theatre popcorn.
2.  The power only went out momentarily instead for days at a time.
3.  I got to shop at a supermarket that truly resembles a supermarket and buy Leibniz Choco Minis and chips.
4. The toilet at my hostel was sit-down style.
5.  That's it....can't think of anything more.

So there's my latest Kampala adventure. Tune in next time for more Ugandan Profundities!!!