Black and White

For the first time in my life I am in the minority and honestly it is not nearly as much as I thought it would be. There’s being different and then there is really sticking out. And even with my lovely tan, I am white.

Very early on you get used to being called Mzungu, an affectionate term meaning white person. It is sort of the Ugandan version of the Thai’s Farang.

You also learn who to talk to, and what prices you should be charged. Find out the price from someone you trust before you leave on the transport, go to buy the pineapple, or barter for a shirt, or else you will find yourself paying two and three times more. It also helps to learn a little of the local language, so when the sales person calls out bitano to the local and 1000 to you, you can point out that you would be paying twice the price. Even if you don’t want the item, the look of shock when the vendors realize that you understand is completely worthwhile.

Interestingly enough it is assumed all white people have money and are in positions of power. It is never questioned when you make an appointment with someone, you will have it. Doors are never closed to Mzungus, people are always made available and no one second guesses a decision. It is very strange to be treated as a first class citizen 24/7. No matter who you visit, the good china comes out and the best foods prepared. You are required to sit in the best chair, or at the head of the table. You will take your food first. And if you try to clear the table, the world would come to an end I’m sure.

The part that makes this difficult though is that I feel totally undeserving of such treatment. I don’t feel like my colour is what should be honoured. I want to be liked because I am me and not because I am white.

And that is what is most difficult about being white – never knowing why someone has introduced themselves to you, or why they want to know you. I want to believe that people find me interesting and fun, but everyone here has at least one story otherwise. Someone wants a visa, or money, or sometimes it’s the chance to be seen with a white partner. White is a status symbol.

As a tall, white woman, who travels like locals across the city by herself (during the day), I stand out. Men regularly stare, catcall, and ask me if I will marry them. When I pass to close in the market both men and women grab my wrist to pull me towards their stalls to look at goods. The word mzungu is uttered in conversations happening around me, as if I don’t realize they are talking about me. When I walk with any of my male friends some men will make crude comments or ask where they can find a mzungu woman to take care of them.

But deeper meanings aside, the colour of the people here is beautiful. They are so dark. And despite Persis’ promise that she also was white and turned dark after spending time in the sun, her colour is something I could only dream of. The worst part, both of us would switch in a heartbeat. Just to give the other a break from our colour. But together they are a beautiful combination.

The Arsenal/Chelsea Match

Arsenal played Chelsea tonight right after Liverpool played Manchester United making it a big night for football (soccer).

My trip across the city proved to me exactly how football crazy Ugandans are! The bars were all packed with people standing outside. I could hear the commentary from the bars as I sat in the vehicle moving through the city. Every location with a television was tuned into the match.

About 15 minutes after I arrived home Arsenal scored. I could tell by the cheering. I live a 10 minute walk from the nearest bar that televises the game, and I felt like I was at the game. Sitting in the house I could hear as the neighbourhood erupt into cheering! A few minutes later a text from my friend Ibrahim confirmed my guess. Arsenal 1, Chelsea 0.

I would say Saskatchewan Riders fans have nothing on Arsenal fans in Uganda.

My City

A city, is a city, and to me Kampala is New York. Just with more mud. Walking down Kampala road in my work clothes, and heeled shoes, I could be in any western city. There are skyscrapers, banks, and well dressed business men and women.

Sure there are also ridiculous amounts of pollution and garbage piled on the street, but it is my city. I know my way around this place. You need to get somewhere I can show you the best way. When boda drivers take me places, they ask – Do you know here. And I do. And I will direct them the best way to get there to avoid the worst of the jams.

People go out of their way to talk to you, the nightlife is fantastic, the weather is just my temperature, and here, I feel free.

Kampala rocks, pre-CHOGM and post-CHOGM, and I recommended it as a safe and friendly place for anyone to start time in Uganda or Africa.

Transportation

While clinging, side saddle, as the boda-boda careened around a truck then bounced off a pothole, I realized I needed to do a blog post explaining transportation in Kampala.

Bodas are the generic term for two wheeled transportation: motorcycles, scooters, dirt bikes and bicycles. For the most part these are the most effective way of getting around the city. They weave in and out of traffic jams, and pedestrians leap for safety when they drive down the sidewalks. On more than one occasion I have yelled to my driver, pedestrians on sidewalks don’t have to move for us, we are in their space. They are cheaper then the special hires (taxis), but more expensive than a taxi (bus).

The do come with serious risk: scrapped body parts, broken legs, and death. While moving around Kampala you are bound to see a boda bumped or half stuck under a taxi. Sometimes there is a passenger holding their shoe, which is bloody. But, during the hours of traffic jams the boda-bodas are a necessary evil.

If you are travelling a long way, or if there is a lot of you, the special hire is the way to go. You call your driver; he picks you up and takes you wherever you need to go. This form of transport is out of reach for the average Ugandan. Good news, my driver, Rogers, has stopped calling me fat, so I am back to riding with him.

The taxi is a 14 passenger van than fits up to 26. It is the cheapest form of transport, go everywhere (except the expat areas), and run all the time. Most of the time, and like most Ugandans, I rely on them. Each day I head into the New Vision office, I take a taxi from Mengo to the Old Taxi Park then transfer to one of the vans running to Nakawa and Jjinja. You know which one to catch as the drivers yell their destination over and over again. “Nakawa and Jjinja” for the trip there and “Mengo/Rubagga” for the trip back.

The taxi’s present a different type of danger. They are a fire trap, with people wedged in and a bar (to hang on to) across the window. If one is in an accident, I am pretty sure it would just go up in smoke. And they fill the streets it reminds me of those national geographic videos with the wildebeests that are moving about. They are all headed in the same direction but there are thousands of them so they bump into each other, and fight.

So you pick your poison and head out to wherever you are going.

Caked in Red Mud

Some of Kampala’s city streets are paved, many have had some gravel put down, but more still are dirt/sand. Even the ones that are paved are covered in a layer of the red, gritty dirt.

And when it rains, that dry dust turns into the stickiest red goop imaginable. It is at its worst in the New Taxi Park, which sits at the bottom of Namirembe Hill. It rains, the mud can be ankle deep, but worse still when it rains it seems to put to much pressure on the drainage so systems back up and add to the water. The best practice is to not think about what you are walking through.

Every time I go though with flip-flops and finding mud, not only all over my feet, but up the back of my pants also. And this mud only streaks when you try to rub it away.

A trip to town just after (or if you are unfortunate during) a rainstorm guarantees at least one load of laundry.

If you decide taxi parks after the rain are not for you, and a boda-boda is a better option be prepared for equally dirty clothes. Not all bodas have fenders, so the back wheels kick up dirt. If your bike doesn’t make you dirty, one of the many passing you will.

Maybe walking on the sidewalk is a better option. Many of the sidewalks especially around Kampala road are pavement, with a few pieces missing. If you can avoid the places were overflowing storm drains are causing small waterfalls, and rapids, it is not a bad plan. However, trucks and taxis don’t slow down before hitting the rain-filled potholes, sending a cascade of muddy water over the unsuspecting pedestrian.

The dust is preferable to being caked in red mud.

Images

Some of the images I see on a daily basis...

Charles the CBHC immunization expert waits for his next patient.

David and Millie from the Counselling Clinic.


Unfortunately there is no typo on this sign, there are cases of people sacrificing children for witchdoctors.

Can I drive? Girl waits to see the clinician in Kasubi Zone I

Nora and her baby brother. Her mom is in Mulago Hospital right now, so she takes care of her siblings.

The Old Taxi Park, where I can try to find my taxi home.

Need a pair of shoes? The corner outside the New Taxi Park

The slum area close to Mengo hospital.

HIV positive girl from the Mengo Hospital Saturday Club waves.

The Cell Phone

In Kampala everyone who can afford a cell phone and airtime has one. Actually, many people who can afford a cell phone, but can’t afford airtime have them also.

Text Messaging, known as sms, has made communication accessible. Sending an sms costs about 0.05 CAN and a call 0.35 CAN a minute. This brings new abilities to a city where so few people (companies & businesses) have telephones the Kampala phone book is smaller than Sidney’s (BC) directory.

And as long as you have some credit you can beep. It’s how Ugandan’s let each other know they want to chat. You call your friend with your remaining credit, the very second it begins to ring – you hang up, thus not spending any money. Your name/number appears on their screen and if they have airtime they will call you.

It can both work well and be annoying at the same time. It is especially bad when you don’t have enough credit even to text to tell them you can’t call back.

The setup is different here than at home. The phone is purchased directly from the dealer. There are no promotional deals where if you sign up you will be given a lower price. In fact there are no contracts at all. After the phone is bought, a network is chosen and a sim (computer) card is purchased for the equivalent of $2 CAN.

The sim card is the phone number. Users buy phone minutes from the thousands of vendors distributed across the city. The vendors sit near offices, walk down the middle of the road, and wait near the taxi parks to sell airtime. The credit is added and you are ready to call, sms or beep.

Aluvia launched

On World Aids Day, the youth of Uganda were the first to gain access to Aluvia, a second-line, anti-retroviral (ARV), formulated specifically for children.

“We are the first institute in the whole world selected to launch this live saving drug,” said Peter Mugyenyi, director of the Joint Clinical Research Centre (Uganda’s pioneer AIDS research and treatment institution), where Aluvia was launched.

Aluvia, a combination of two drugs, lopinavir and ritonavir, is created by Abbott Pharmaceuticals the company behind the adult ARV Kaletra. Aluvia is the first and only second-line therapy for children.

Under a waiver order Abbot was able to ship the medication to Uganda after it was approved by the American Food and Drug administration. A waiver order allows medicines to be shipped before it is approved in the specific country, provided permission has been given be the government.

“JCRC has identified over 60 children in immediate need for this life saving treatment,” said President Yoweri Museveni, on why he gave his approval. He has been applauded by many researchers in the HIV/AIDS community for his fight against the disease.

As more medications are discovered President Museveni says the government will work with many organizations to ensure access for Ugandan citizens.

“Clinton Foundation is now working with JCRC to make [new] treatments available to our children,” he said.

The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that 2.3 million children under the age of 15 are living with HIV and a majority of those live in Africa. Until recently, paediatric formulations were unavailable, so hospitals and clinics were left breaking adult tablets into halves, or quarters, an estimate of the correct dosage.

In Uganda 115,000 children are infected with HIV and many of those can no longer take first-line ARV treatments due to negative reactions, or the virus becoming resistant to the medications.

“Introduction of second-line medicine for children living with HIV will hep restore hope for millions of parents and children who would otherwise face a bleak future if first-line therapy failed,” said Mugyenyi.

“Co-formulated lopinavir/ritonavir is a WHO recommended second-line HIV treatment regimen for children, and Abbott is making its latest, most innovative version available to our most vulnerable sector of society; children who live in poor countries,” he said

Aluvia can be taken with or without food, and doesn’t require refrigeration. This increases the usability of the medication as many people in developing nations don’t have consistent access to adequate nutrition and millions live without power.

“We want to ensure the child from Uganda takes no longer to receive medication than children in the developed world,” said Angelo Kondes, Abbott International’s regional director for the Middle East, Africa and Pakistan.

The treatment is being offered to Uganda through Abbott’s Access program; the two-tired pricing system used across 115 low- and middle income country. Aluvia costs $250 per child per year.