Help Wanted

I'm sure if taxi drivers posted for conductors, this is how the ad would look.

Looking for one taxi conductor...
Must be able to yell loudly and incomprehensibly
Can make change quickly and has a good memory for faces
Must be small as so no to take up an entire seat
Must be able to convince police that despite a label saying 14 people, 18 is perfectly acceptable
Criminal Record preferred, but any unpunished petty theft acceptable.

Please apply at either the New or Old Taxi Park.

Rain Wear

Women in Uganda wear bags on their heads.

I find this exceptionally funny, because growing up the one thing we were always taught was never to put you head in a bag.

But here women pay a lot of money for their hair to be just perfect… And it needs to stay for at least a couple of weeks. A lot of gel is used to make the hair perfect and most gels are water soluble.

So when they get ready to go out in the morning – it goes shoes, coat, and plastic bag.

Uchumi, Shoprite, the thin black bags you get from vegetable vendors, the variety is endless.

But it seems to work, as women arrive at work or restaurants and their hair has survived in tact.

BRAT in Uganda

Dinner last night left something to be desired.

I am on the BRAT diet – Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Toast. It’s for people whose stomachs are not quite right and it works because these four are gentle foods that are easy to digest. I started it because my stomach has been trying to reject nearly everything I have eaten for the last week.

So now I am doing the BRAT diet, Ugandan style.

Back to dinner last night, the main course was gonja, a roasted banana; I don’t really like raw bananas so it’s a good alternative. It was served with pita bread because I don’t have a toaster. For desert I dined on babyfood, it was the closest I got to apple sauce – you try explaining the concept of pureed fruit to Ugandans. They want to know why I just didn’t want an apple. So, I found myself buying the most expensive applesauce ever, it was pureed for a 5 month old and had no sugar added.

Oh, and the label said not to eat out of the jar because any leftovers would spoil. I ignored the warning, fairly confident I would be able to polish off a 100ml jar. I was right.

I am looking forward to a variation of the same for dinner tonight too. Goody. I need to start feeling better fast, I am dying for Indian food.

Taxis

I love riding in taxis.

Boda-bodas are great too, efficient, and fun with the thrill of danger, but they are expensive.

Taxis are my favourite. Where else can you sit four people in three seats, with chickens under your seat, a goat in the trunk and all for less than sh 1,000 ($0.60 CAN).

This morning was crazy. The driver saw me walking up my hill and waved, I raised my eye brows in response. He swerved over and screeched to a stop and the conductor jumped out to watch me get closer.

“Wandageryakampalaroadjinjaroad,” he bellowed in a giant mouthful.

I stopped for a second, and realized it was definitely the taxi I wanted, as it was heading down Kampala road (the main drag).

I hopped in the conductor closed the door, narrowly missing my foot, and we were driving again before my butt had even hit the seat.

Two minutes later we pulled up to the first stage. A stage is where bodas or taxis congregate – it is like a bus stop, except taxis will drop you off or pick you up from anywhere.

Our conductor (the fare collector) started snaking people headed for the taxi parked ahead of us. This didn’t please that conductor who started yelling and slammed the door to our taxi closed.

Our conductor reopened it and continued filling out taxi. The other guy came over and closed it again.

This continued a couple more times before we peeled away from the cur and went speeding down the road again, then it happened at two or three other stages. Our conductor started overcharging the locals as they were getting off. You may get away with overcharging a muzungu but the other Ugandans let him have it. I maintain all conductors and taxi drivers are criminals.

People may read this and ask why I like riding taxis.

It’s simple, where else can a bus ride to town turn into a soap opera, national geographic flick, and front seat to a car race.

A moment of perfect happiness

Today is a good day to be in Uganda.

The temperature is nearing perfect, the sun is out, flowers are in bloom (after our recent rain storms) so the air is filled with the scents of frangipanis, and the city is packed again after a quiet Easter weekend.

As my boda passed along the Kololo airstrip, I had a perfect view of the downtown core, and the other six hills that Kampala is built on.

I could see the green domes of the Kibuli Mosque, the red bricks of Namirembe Cathedral, the blue windows of Crested Towers, and the city suburbs as they spread between the hills and into the horizon.

The only clouds were the light, fluffy ones, without the threat of rain.

I only have one thought.

I love this place.

Not visiting Jinja

Picture this:

It had rained all night.

I struggled up the muddy hill from the place I was staying to the main road. It was still mostly dark, the sun not yet up far enough to start drying out the earth or warming me up. There were practically no taxis so I jumped on a boda-boda to the taxi park.

Then I was really, really cold, but got there quickly.

I paid the boda driver, and he headed off.

As typical the special hires surrounding the taxi park motioned they would take me. I shook my head, and politely replied “Nedda, Sebo.” Meaning no, sir.

Most of them got back into their cars to wait. But one approached me.

“Muzungu, where you going”

“The taxi park, I’m here”

‘You go to Jinja, I’ll take you to Jinja”

“Nedda, Sebo, Sagala” (I don’t want - I was actually going to Gaba).

“Muzungu, I’ll take you to Jinja for a fair price”

This continues for a few more exchanges as I walk down the street with him following.

He grabbed my shoulder, “My size, I’ll take you where you want to go.”

I pulled away. And for the first time ever I swore at a Ugandan.

Then I told him where I wanted him to go.

It wasn’t Jinja.

A Reflection on People

“I hope this doesn’t make you hate people in Africa,” my friend said when I told her the whole story. She like many people think the whole conflict started because of money.

I never even considered it. When one of the people I was closest to in Uganda showed her true colours and began lying about me, I couldn’t figure it out. I still can’t, but it doesn’t change my opinion that Ugandans as a whole are the loveliest people.

For all the hurt I feel due to the actions of one person, and believe me right now there is a LOT of hurt, ever other friend I have in this country has stepped up and supported me. People have breakfast, lunch and dinner out with me. Friends are helping me find a new place to live. Acquaintances are offering up apartment space until I find my own house. Family members of friends are sending me food and offering furniture for when I find a place.

People in Uganda are still some of my favourite people in the world. Don’t worry your reputation, as the most hospitable and friendly people in Africa, is still intact. One person cannot change how I feel about this place or the amazing people who live here.

Mosquito Bites…

I have over 89 of them – the reason I cannot count accurately is I am not in front of a mirror and cannot see how many I have on my back. I would say by the amount it itches there are quite a few.

The worst are the ones on my hands –clusters of three or four on my knuckles and between the fingers.

So with all these bites I thought this would be a great time to discuss malaria and other mosquito born diseases. Great segway? I think so – provided none of my mosquito bites happened between 11pm – 2am (which I am sure they nearly all did) I am at low malaria risk.

So here it is – a quick (and not necessarily medically accurate) Q & A to malaria in Uganda

Q: But Angela, don’t you sleep with a net?
A: The bad news is I got all of those bites when I was under a net. I would like to take this opportunity to point out the importance of not rolling against the net with bare skin when you are sleeping. The mosquitoes can still get you. Or worse every once and a while one gets caught in the net with you, they really like that, trust me. The high pitch whine as hovers looking for another place to bite will plague your dreams. Some people won’t use nets because it virtually turns your bed into a small oven. I have just gotten used to nightly sweating.

Q: Oh that sucks, but aren’t you taking anti-malarials?
A: I am. However an anti-malarial doesn’t prevent malaria, it just begins treating the parasite before it makes you really, really sick (in theory). An interesting side note – yesterday, I went to a local pharmacy to pick up more doxycycline (the anti-malaral I take) because I will be finished my Canadian tabs tomorrow. The original 4-month prescription that I came with was a grand $120 CAN (sh 204,000). The next two months worth cost me a mere sh 6,000 ($3.52 CAN), a pretty good deal.

Q: Wait you said in theory, so you can still get malaria on anti-malarial?
A: Unfortunately yes, you can still get malaria while on anti-malarial. To make matters worse if you use doxy, an antibiotic, for a long time you also run the risk of getting antibiotic resistance bacterial infections. Sweet, drug-resistant bacteria, and malaria, just through in some TB and Ebola and we have a party. I know that makes Africa seem like a dangerous place – but I have yet to get any of the above. *knocks on wood*

Q: What about using bug repellent?
A: Bug repellent works great and it effective most of the time. Last night (the night after I was eaten alive – clearly I didn’t use much the first time) I sprayed enough repellent to make me want to leave the room. Any self respecting mosquito cleared out, leaving only two with no self respect (or one really hungry one). I only had two new bites this morning. A fan is also nice, and I would use one if I had a place to plug it in. The moving air disrupts the mosquitoes’ ability to land.

Q: And what do you mean between 11 pm – 2 am?
A: The mosquito that transmits malaria is called an anopheles and according to the paper work I received on malaria (and according to the locals) they only bite in the middle of the night.

Q: Okay, so that’s how to avoid it. How do you know if you have it?
A: Short answer, you get really, really sick. Rumour has it you feel like you are going to die, and wish you were already dead. (This isn’t the best description because I felt like that after eating the raw mean in Ethiopia). You get a fever, followed by cycles of fever and chills – it means lots of sweating, hey kind of like sleeping under a net. Your stomach starts to feel bad, with lots of pain, and of course you can expect vomiting. The headache makes you wish the entire world would just shut up, and turn off the lights. Of course I have, fortunately, not experienced any of these, so don’t take my word for it.

Q: How do you treat it?
A: Tabs (prescription pills) called Coartem are the best bet. If women are pregnant they get Fansidar to protect the foetus. Saline IV to keep fluids up. In some cases, injections of quinine are given into the buttocks. But if you read my New Vision article on What could go wrong, I would recommend being too sick to take the tabs before you go that route.

Q: Well that seems not so bad, how badly are Ugandans affected?
A: Due to lack of treatment, money and access to treatment, a lot.

• 320 recorded deaths due to Malaria per day
• $658 million USD a year are lost to malaria
• Consumes 10% of the Ugandan Ministry of Health budget
• Consumes 60 million man hours
• 43% of school absenteeism is due to malaria (children under five and pregnant women are most effected by malaria)
• 25% of the average household income is spent on malaria treatment and control

I’m sure there is more I can tell you, but right now I have to go scratch.

More than "just Africa"

Seriously, I have a new rule (aside from trying to cut back on how often I use seriously). “It’s the Village” and “This is Africa” are no longer excuses. You cannot hope to excuse completely inappropriate behaviours of your own people by saying it is Africa. If the foreigners want to say it – fine, if the expats want to say it – whatever, but I want people here to want better for themselves.

If your next-door-neighbour is beating her kids constantly, to the point where her little girl is disabled – do something about it. There is no way a 5-year-old deserves that kind of punishment – it’s not punishment it’s torture. Don’t tell me it is because you are in the village, and don’t tell me they won’t listen to you because you are someone from the city. Walk over there and demand they stop. Walk over there and tell the little girl she is worth more and there another way. Stop the cycle before that little girl grows up (if she survives that long) gets married, and begins abusing her kids.

Make your government live up to their promise of FREE Universal Primary Education. Make sure the girl-child especially gets some education to teach them how to live, thrive and survive. Don’t write off child-brides as “African culture” that will take a long time to change. If the girl is so young she doesn’t understand why her parents are sending her off with a strange man – you KNOW that is wrong.

Stop making excuses for yourselves. Stand up and do what’s right for the people in your country to grow together and stronger.

Luwero

Luwero is (kind of) famous because Museveni did most of his fighting there, while he was leading the National Resistance Movement against Amin (then Obote).

Many families in the area suffered for this. Fathers, husbands, and sons joined the ‘rebel’ army against Obote, and many died. In some cases men were just lost – not even buried. A neighbour to Dez’s parents lost her husband while he was fighting and her two sons were taken from her by the Obote military for being involved with the rebel group.

The legacy of this fighting, is a town where there are many single parent families, orphans, and many NGOs trying to help those that remained, cope.

The town itself is small, just a few gravel and dirt roads off the main Kampala-Gulu ‘highway,’ but very colourful. Like most Ugandan towns buildings are the site of advertisements so those near the market are yellow (for MTN), and blue (UTL) and greens (Hima cement).

Just a short boda-boda ride outside of town is Dez’s parent’s house. We sat outside, relaxing on the grass in their large front yard. I was once again amazed at how quiet the ‘villages’ are compared to the city. All you can hear are bugs, birds and the occasional grunt from the pigs rooting around the banana plantation in the backyard.

Unfortunately the peacefulness of the day was shattered by the small monsoon that blew through for a few hours. The rain was blowing horizontal, the banana and matoke plans were bending in the wind and it was really cold. I learned to play the board game that I see Ugandan’s everywhere playing and beat Dez – which was the important part, and possibly the highlight to my day. Thankfully, the rain stopped, but then we had to take a muddy boda ride back to reality.

Trouble with time

Time management in this country can be next to impossible sometimes.
An interview Friday morning, then an appointment at noon, then another at 2:30, write off at least 2.5 hours for travel. Went out Friday night, after helping to make dinner - on a charcoal stove. Saturday was lost to traveling to a village then taking out my 'sister' Sifah.
That left Sunday. I wrote an entire 1800 word feature on an artist and a sidebar - in 10 hours. Seriously, I thought I was going to die.
Filed it this morning.
And I have six others on the go.
Will post something on the Luwero trip asap.
Worst post ever I know.
Something better is coming.

Africa Reading Challenge

Alight, so I have been hearing – and reading – about the 2008 Africa Reading Challenge. The idea behind it is lovely; during “the course of 2008 - six books that either were written by African writers, take place in Africa, or deal significantly with Africans and African issues.” Then we review what we have read!

(Un)fortunately, they have to be books that I have never read before – so Cause Celeb, and Poisonwood Bible, are both out, but I recommend both to others wanting to read something.

My List

A Long Walk to Freedom: Nelson Mandela’s autobiography. I’ve had the book in my possession several times, but never got through it. This is the excuse I was looking for to finish it

Constant Gardener: Haven’t read it and haven’t seen the film, but everyone else seems to have done one or the other. My turn.

Mine Boy: This novel was one of the first books to draw attention to the condition of black South Africans under a white regime. I’m interested in South Africa, I’m hooked.

We wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families: One of the depressing book about the Rwandan Genocide. It can’t be any sadder then ‘Sunday, by the pool in Kigali,’ can it?

The White Masai: This one I hope is better then what I fear. I hope it isn’t a white woman making a big profit off a kind-of sad love story. I’ve heard good things though so I am trying not to pass judgement. Also a movie.

What’s the What?: On several other reading lists – I was interested – so it made mine.

I also want to read something by Patrick Bond, but that makes 7 books and too many from South Africa… so only if I have time.

A look at starch

Carbohydrates make up a large portion of the diet across Africa. It is plentiful, most of it is cheap, and it fills hungry bellies better than some vegetables. However, not all carbohydrates were created equally and some have surprisingly high nutrient levels. Here is a look at the starch that regularly appears on a Ugandan dinner plate, many at the same time, but some only rarely.

Posho – probably one of my favourites, it is a white solid that looks like mashed potatoes, but is made of corn flour. Yes, that is corn flour and not corn meal, however it is prepared in the same way us Italians make polenta. I think that’s why I like it – it has a different texture entirely but the taste is very similar to polenta.

In 1/2 a cup: Calories 208, Carbs43.5 g, Calcium 80.4mg, Potassium 169.9 mg

Matoke – the plantain. Or at least it is the Ugandan version of the plantain. The green peels are sliced off, leaving a hard, sticky, slimy, white banana like thing that get cut into 2 inch chunks then boiled or steamed while wrapped in banana leaves. It is very dense, but mostly tasty. A must have with a half decent groundnut sauce – truly until I had it everyday for a month and a half it was one of my favourite dishes. Matoke and groundnuts is considered Ugandan’s national dish.
In 1/2 a cup: Calories 179, Carbs48.0g, Calcium3.1 mg, Potassium 716.1mg

Millet – the first time I had millet, I poked at the doughy mass on my plate with a fork, reminiscent of the comic strip character Calvin poking at his mother’s casserole. ‘What is it?’ I though, but didn’t say about the brown doughy mass that had taken up the centre of my plate. Turns out it doesn’t taste much better than it looks, and is probably the least favourite of the starch choices.
In ½ Cup: Calories 104, Carbs20.6 g, Calcium2.6 mg, Potassium53.9 mg

Enya – is a cross between posho and millet, but it actually a dish made of cassava flour and water. It is prepared just like posho, but instead of being firm, it has the glutinous texture of millet. Yet, it is still pretty tasty, until it gets cold – then *shudder*.

Irish Potato – what North Americans call a potato. It’s white, comes from the ground, it is usually served boiled, although on rare occasions I find myself cutting them into chips. Not really much else to say.
In ½ Cup: Calories 57, Carbs12.9 g, Calcium9.2 mg, Potassium326.3 mg

Sweet Potato – Like the Irish potato, but sweet, and bigger. Dez likes them for breakfast when they have been roasted/fried. I don’t mind them boiled as long as I am covering them with soup – preferably beans. They do make a filling snack, and truly are sweet.
In ½ a cup: Calories 54, Carbs12.4 g, Calcium22.8 mg, Potassium285 mg

Yam – but not the yummy orange-fleshed North American yams we are used to. These things are light purple (on the inside) and dry. Personally, I put them towards the same category as millet, as something to take as a last resort.
In ½ a cup: Calories 79, Carbs18.8

Pumpkin – yes, like ours at home, except more squash like because the rinds (are they rinds on a pumpkin?) are green. Boiled or steamed and served, usually with a little bit of blue brand (margarine). They are lovely and I tend to forfeit all else for pumpkin.
In ½ a cup: Calories 41, Carbs9.9 g, Calcium31.7 mg, Potassium251.3 mg

Cassava – the last of the root vegetables, but the most prolific. Cassava can be had for breakfast as fries (one of my favourite breakie foods) or as katogo, sort of a stew with beans. For lunch and dinner it can be baked, grilled, boiled, steamed or fried. I try to avoid it when it has been most of those, but with lots of sauce it is not too bad.
In ½ a cup: Calories 160, Carbs38.1g, Calcium16 mg

Rice – same thing as home, white, long or short grain. Prepared the same way, and most often served with beans.
In ½ a cup: Calories 103, Carbs22.3 g, Potassium27.7 mg

Spaghetti – same thing as home, but not prepared the same way at all! Here, nearly all spaghetti comes a la carbonara. Vegetables are fried the spaghetti added, and eggs thrown in. It is delicious but different then North America, closer (but not the same) as Kristine’s two eggs-spaghetti from Cameroon.
In ½ a cup: Calories 61,Carbs13 g, Calcium4.0 mg, Potassium25.4 mg

Who would have thought there were so many types of starch? – Before arriving in Uganda, not me. And I definitely didn’t think they could all be offered at the same meal.

But they can and for the most part, when I get home I will be shocked if I am only offered rice. What about posho or matoke?

Malnutrition

Nestle makes a powdered milk, called Nido. It is, in theory, suppose to ensure that children have milk accessible to them even when they don’t have refrigeration. However, it may quite possibly be one of the most expensive items I have seen in any grocery store. A small tin (400g) is sh 10,000, the large continers (which are covered in dust because no one can ever buy them) are more than sh 55,000 (depending on where you go). Most of the time HIV positive mothers, who are trying to raise their babies on something besides breast milk can’t afford it – so their babies die of malnutrition instead of AIDS. Many mothers in rural Uganda can’t afford milk or milk powder so their children wind up malnourished at feeding centres, like the one in Kuluva Hospital.

My tour through Kuluva hospital, 9kms outside Arua, included a stop at their feeding centre/nutritional ward. It was the first time for me to see one. It was really well organized and the nurse in charge, Irene, is bright and bubbly. But, she has a tough time and needs to work very hard. Maize meal gets donated “by the people of America” through USAID, but there is no milk. When there IS milk, which is rare, less than once a week, it goes to those children who are malnourished first, and the children with cancer second.

Mothers are taught how to properly feed their child, and while at the nutrition ward children should be eating every three hours. The ones that have been there for a while are starting to loose the sunken eyes and smile when they see you. Those that are new have their shoulder blades stick out of their backs, their stomachs are so distended, and they don’t smile, or cry. They just sit wherever they have been put down and wait. It is just like every horrible world vision video designed to part donors from their money, but in reality its worse.

You can spot a child who is malnourished a mile away, even when they are not wasting away. The first sign is the normally jet-black curly hair begins to turn brown; sometimes the hair falls out in patches, and others it goes straight. The skin begins to change also, eyes start to yellow. Then the joints start to stick out. Their bones are much more pronounced. Bellies are big and round, but ribs stick out around the belly. I’m not a medical professional so don’t take this as a guide, but it is usually pretty obvious.

These women are not bad mothers. They simply do not have access to the foods that provide a balanced diet. You can teach a woman anything you want, and believe me she wants what’s best for her children, but if she is too poor, there is nothing she can do about it. Irene told me stories of mothers cooking and mashing sweet potatoes. The cooled potato they make a slurry/solution with water and this is how they feed their infants. If sweet potato is the only thing available – what else can these mothers do?

Children are resilient though. Mothers, and for the most part it is mothers and mothers only, can carry in a child that is totally unresponsive, and limp. And I was told that with proper treatment the child will at least be smiling within a few days. It gives me hope anyway, because some of the kids I saw there didn’t even flinch when nurses were putting in very large IV needles.

The Women of Arua

Women in Arua have a skill that completely amazes me. They are able to carry everything on their head. It is something you see to a certain extent across Uganda and, I imagine, the Africa, however in Arua these women carry literally everything. I’ve seen firewood, bags of coal, pots of water, baskets of fruit or vegetables, and 20L jerry cans of water. I can’t even pick a 20L jerry can up and I wrestle with it pretty seriously in order to pour it over into a basin. I couldn’t imagine lifting it straight into the air and on to my head.

The most amazing part – all of this is done with a child strapped to their back.