Monday, February 27, 2006
(written on Sunday, but I couldn't post it because the power was out in my neighborhood)
I made it to 5 PM and I'm not even exhausted! A personal victory. One of several today, actually. Read on. (It's long, I warn you. You can skim. Wait, no you can't. Just close the browser now if you can't take it!)
So Roselyn, you ask, where are you staying? I'm staying at Uganda Protestant Medical Bureau Guesthouse (a mouthful), which is in a quiet, green area of Kampala called Mengo. It's simple but I like it. It's been almost deserted this past week because of the elections (although now it's started to fill up again) but I've had some quality bonding time with several groups of Germans. (I've spoken more German in the past five days than in four years at NU.)
The first group, four women, are here doing a charity project - sanitation work - in a nearby village. They don't speak much English and their accent is hard for me to understand, but I sort of took a dislike to them when they talked about me in front of my face ("ein Frau allein?!!?" etc.) Hey, ladies, my German isn't THAT bad. But this morning at breakfast we had some nice German/English chatting. They are disappointed with their time here, because things & people here move so slowly, and because the villagers they came to help would rather watch the bazungu work than do it with them, and learn it themselves. To which I could have said, it probably doesn't help that you don't speak Lugandan, haven't even bothered to learn "how are you", and only one of you speaks English. That's just me wanting to feel self-righteous, however, and I really don't have room for that. I'm reminded every day of what a clueless mzungu* I am [for instance I haven't figured out whether the plural is "bazungu" or "wazungu" here]. The Ugandans I speak with caution me that two months is not very long to try to understand a foreign culture enough to do a research project. To which I say, yes. You are right. It adds to my numerous doubts about what I am doing here. (What am I doing here? Is my research project really worth doing? Is it feasible? Am I in any way qualified?) I seem to average about one freak-out a day.
Um ... where was I... the second group of Germans were a couple and their friend passing through on the way back to Luweero (a village about 70 km north of Kampala I think). They're missionaries at a hospital there, an occupational therapist and her husband's an engineer, and they seemed really with it and spoke Luganda and spoke of Kampala as an "island" in the midst of the bush. I wanted to be like them in every way - they knew what they're doing here, they know their role, they are actually doing something good instead of just talking about it. I felt very shy and foolish so I ran away to my room.
This was yesterday (Saturday), which was bad in many ways. I had started looking forward to bedtime at 11 AM. Everything at my research site was canceled because the election results were going to be announced that day, and people were nervous. By 5, I was desperately trying to think of ways to stay awake. They announced the results - the incumbent had won, which is probably good in the short term (less violence since he has control of the military) and bad in the long term (he's been ruling now for 20 years and doesn't seem interested in leaving any time soon. Kind of the Mayor Daley(s) of Uganda.) So the streets were crazy with cheering, all the motorcycles honking and flashing the "thumbs up" symbol of the incumbent, some with banana leaves pinned to themselves (also a symbol of the incumbent) Some people looked grim and flashed the V sign (peace sign) of the main challenger Kizza Besigye... because his supporters were contesting the results, the city was still uneasy.
So I can't leave the guesthouse but I can't sleep, I'm incredibly homesick and I just want to talk to someone, but I can't because paradoxically I don't want to talk to anyone ever again. I lay in bed praying pathetically - that the Germans would be at dinner, that they would talk to me, that they would like me - in a fit of inspiration I even prayed that they would invite me to visit them in Luweero.
Well, they didn't invite me to visit them and they didn't even stay for dinner. But when I emerged from my room they were having coffee, so I joined them and we talked for a bit, which encouraged me greatly and confirmed my crazy desire to go to Luweero. This morning (sunday) before I left for church I dithered about, knowing I should leave but wanting to bump into them again, awkwardly coming by their room and saying hello, going downstairs again, and finally going upstairs and meeting them coming down and asking them if I could visit them for a few days, and they said yes and were kind and gave me teir number and I felt very shy and awkward (you may not believe how shy and awkward I can be, but ask around - it is quite something) but hey! I am OK with awkward! Bring it on, awkward! (In my field notes I have a special abbreviation "FVA" which means I felt very awkward. (I put "field notes" there just so I could feel all anthropologisty but it is a lie, y'all.)
OK that's all I can possibly muster for today. Currently I am feeling depressed and I not only don't want to be here, but I don't want to be anywhere and would like to create a soundproof burrow for myself somewhere in North Dakota. It will pass (I hope).
*Mzungu is one word I've got down pat because I hear it about 50 times a day, one of those usually preceded by "Want a date?" I am proud to say that I've added "Weebale nayo nedda" (Thank you, but no) to my vocabulary.
I made it to 5 PM and I'm not even exhausted! A personal victory. One of several today, actually. Read on. (It's long, I warn you. You can skim. Wait, no you can't. Just close the browser now if you can't take it!)
So Roselyn, you ask, where are you staying? I'm staying at Uganda Protestant Medical Bureau Guesthouse (a mouthful), which is in a quiet, green area of Kampala called Mengo. It's simple but I like it. It's been almost deserted this past week because of the elections (although now it's started to fill up again) but I've had some quality bonding time with several groups of Germans. (I've spoken more German in the past five days than in four years at NU.)
The first group, four women, are here doing a charity project - sanitation work - in a nearby village. They don't speak much English and their accent is hard for me to understand, but I sort of took a dislike to them when they talked about me in front of my face ("ein Frau allein?!!?" etc.) Hey, ladies, my German isn't THAT bad. But this morning at breakfast we had some nice German/English chatting. They are disappointed with their time here, because things & people here move so slowly, and because the villagers they came to help would rather watch the bazungu work than do it with them, and learn it themselves. To which I could have said, it probably doesn't help that you don't speak Lugandan, haven't even bothered to learn "how are you", and only one of you speaks English. That's just me wanting to feel self-righteous, however, and I really don't have room for that. I'm reminded every day of what a clueless mzungu* I am [for instance I haven't figured out whether the plural is "bazungu" or "wazungu" here]. The Ugandans I speak with caution me that two months is not very long to try to understand a foreign culture enough to do a research project. To which I say, yes. You are right. It adds to my numerous doubts about what I am doing here. (What am I doing here? Is my research project really worth doing? Is it feasible? Am I in any way qualified?) I seem to average about one freak-out a day.
Um ... where was I... the second group of Germans were a couple and their friend passing through on the way back to Luweero (a village about 70 km north of Kampala I think). They're missionaries at a hospital there, an occupational therapist and her husband's an engineer, and they seemed really with it and spoke Luganda and spoke of Kampala as an "island" in the midst of the bush. I wanted to be like them in every way - they knew what they're doing here, they know their role, they are actually doing something good instead of just talking about it. I felt very shy and foolish so I ran away to my room.
This was yesterday (Saturday), which was bad in many ways. I had started looking forward to bedtime at 11 AM. Everything at my research site was canceled because the election results were going to be announced that day, and people were nervous. By 5, I was desperately trying to think of ways to stay awake. They announced the results - the incumbent had won, which is probably good in the short term (less violence since he has control of the military) and bad in the long term (he's been ruling now for 20 years and doesn't seem interested in leaving any time soon. Kind of the Mayor Daley(s) of Uganda.) So the streets were crazy with cheering, all the motorcycles honking and flashing the "thumbs up" symbol of the incumbent, some with banana leaves pinned to themselves (also a symbol of the incumbent) Some people looked grim and flashed the V sign (peace sign) of the main challenger Kizza Besigye... because his supporters were contesting the results, the city was still uneasy.
So I can't leave the guesthouse but I can't sleep, I'm incredibly homesick and I just want to talk to someone, but I can't because paradoxically I don't want to talk to anyone ever again. I lay in bed praying pathetically - that the Germans would be at dinner, that they would talk to me, that they would like me - in a fit of inspiration I even prayed that they would invite me to visit them in Luweero.
Well, they didn't invite me to visit them and they didn't even stay for dinner. But when I emerged from my room they were having coffee, so I joined them and we talked for a bit, which encouraged me greatly and confirmed my crazy desire to go to Luweero. This morning (sunday) before I left for church I dithered about, knowing I should leave but wanting to bump into them again, awkwardly coming by their room and saying hello, going downstairs again, and finally going upstairs and meeting them coming down and asking them if I could visit them for a few days, and they said yes and were kind and gave me teir number and I felt very shy and awkward (you may not believe how shy and awkward I can be, but ask around - it is quite something) but hey! I am OK with awkward! Bring it on, awkward! (In my field notes I have a special abbreviation "FVA" which means I felt very awkward. (I put "field notes" there just so I could feel all anthropologisty but it is a lie, y'all.)
OK that's all I can possibly muster for today. Currently I am feeling depressed and I not only don't want to be here, but I don't want to be anywhere and would like to create a soundproof burrow for myself somewhere in North Dakota. It will pass (I hope).
*Mzungu is one word I've got down pat because I hear it about 50 times a day, one of those usually preceded by "Want a date?" I am proud to say that I've added "Weebale nayo nedda" (Thank you, but no) to my vocabulary.
Friday, February 24, 2006
I'm writing this from a trendy webcafe in downtown kampala - Web City, if you must know. Most of the webcafes I've been hitting are little holes-in-the-wall with 10 computers crammed into a tiny room; this one is spacious, cool and has DSL (!!! so fast!!!) which probably explains why there are so many wazungu (white people) here. Well, there aren't a LOT - but I've probably seen more here than I have since I got off the plane Tuesday night. Being here is incredibly comforting right now, right down to the smell of coffee (it's not even instant!) and the use of Microsoft Word.
Ordinarily I wouldn't admit to enjoying such a Westernized place here, but I'm tired, friends. I spent the day getting lost in Kampala. The agency I needed to visit was closed this morning, probably because of the elections yesterday. (Brief update on that: so far, no news. We heard cheering last night at the guesthouse as some of the early returns came in, but the election won't be counted till Saturday. For now, the city is "quiet" - in the words of the warden at the guesthouse, although I wouldn't call it quiet - waiting.) The security guard at the door of the building assured me that they'd be open this afternoon, so I'll go there soon.
A digression: This agency (a national agency from whom I need permission to do my research) is housed in the Uganda House, a big office building downtown, and it wasn't until I got on the elevator that the poverty here really hit me. I've seen goats, beggars etc while here of course, which didn't really shock me because that's what Westerners expect of Africa, right? I saw the same thing in Malaysia. To us it's just a touristy thing. However, there's a middle/upper class - tons of people have cellphones (MObiles, as they call 'em - rhymes with toe tile) and lots of these are pretty well educated. And yet.. . the Uganda House is the scariest, shadiest skyscraper I've ever been in. Imagine if a building was built in the 1970s - pretty good construction, but not state of the art or anything - and then got looted by two different armies at the end of the 70s and no new money has been put into it since then, because that is pretty much what happened.
OK, much more to say but my time is expiring. Later...
Ordinarily I wouldn't admit to enjoying such a Westernized place here, but I'm tired, friends. I spent the day getting lost in Kampala. The agency I needed to visit was closed this morning, probably because of the elections yesterday. (Brief update on that: so far, no news. We heard cheering last night at the guesthouse as some of the early returns came in, but the election won't be counted till Saturday. For now, the city is "quiet" - in the words of the warden at the guesthouse, although I wouldn't call it quiet - waiting.) The security guard at the door of the building assured me that they'd be open this afternoon, so I'll go there soon.
A digression: This agency (a national agency from whom I need permission to do my research) is housed in the Uganda House, a big office building downtown, and it wasn't until I got on the elevator that the poverty here really hit me. I've seen goats, beggars etc while here of course, which didn't really shock me because that's what Westerners expect of Africa, right? I saw the same thing in Malaysia. To us it's just a touristy thing. However, there's a middle/upper class - tons of people have cellphones (MObiles, as they call 'em - rhymes with toe tile) and lots of these are pretty well educated. And yet.. . the Uganda House is the scariest, shadiest skyscraper I've ever been in. Imagine if a building was built in the 1970s - pretty good construction, but not state of the art or anything - and then got looted by two different armies at the end of the 70s and no new money has been put into it since then, because that is pretty much what happened.
OK, much more to say but my time is expiring. Later...
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Jetlag: woke up this morning at 8:30. I hate insomnia, jetlag, and myself. I fell asleep at 6:30 pm Wednesday night (thank you jetlag) and then woke up at an undetermined hour. Everything was dark and the light in my room wasn't working and I couldn't tell what time it was, so I lit the candle, got my pajamas on and fell back into bed. Then I just lay there for a long while until the light in the room buzzed on (apparently the power had been out) So I got up, realized I had slept through dinner, had a granola bar, went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, went back to bed and tried to read, but then realized the ghetto copy of the only novel I brought (cider house rules if you want toknow) was missing 50 pages in the middle. Annoying. So i tried to sleep. then I got up (around 1, I later determined) and wrote this below, which I type now.
As I write this, is is still dark out. I have spent the last seven hours (that's what I thought at the time but it was actually more like 5 hours I think. Maybe even... 2) productively by berating myself for falling asleep so early last night and for my undisciplinedness in general; wondering why I have come; feeling guilty for being here, being rich and white, taking with me a camera worth about three months salary of a local (and it's not even a fancy camera); thinking of all the ways I have failed in the past 12 months; looking forward to failures to come, especially in the next two months.
But despite this... it was a good day. I can't write about it in too much detail because I spent most of the afternoon writing about it in my "research journal". I will say that: I got to ride on the back of a motorcycle (boda-boda) and managed to become horribly lost, but still direct the driver back to my guesthouse; I met a Ugandan lecturer of anthropology whose nickname is "Chief Fire" for reasons that aren't yet clear to me; I made friends with a law student and a waitress and a pharmacist.
Also, I have taken the following as my motto:
"I discovered later, and am still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. By this worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life's duties, problems, successes, failues. In doing so we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously not our own suffering, but those of God in this world. that, I think, is faith."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 1944
As I write this, is is still dark out. I have spent the last seven hours (that's what I thought at the time but it was actually more like 5 hours I think. Maybe even... 2) productively by berating myself for falling asleep so early last night and for my undisciplinedness in general; wondering why I have come; feeling guilty for being here, being rich and white, taking with me a camera worth about three months salary of a local (and it's not even a fancy camera); thinking of all the ways I have failed in the past 12 months; looking forward to failures to come, especially in the next two months.
But despite this... it was a good day. I can't write about it in too much detail because I spent most of the afternoon writing about it in my "research journal". I will say that: I got to ride on the back of a motorcycle (boda-boda) and managed to become horribly lost, but still direct the driver back to my guesthouse; I met a Ugandan lecturer of anthropology whose nickname is "Chief Fire" for reasons that aren't yet clear to me; I made friends with a law student and a waitress and a pharmacist.
Also, I have taken the following as my motto:
"I discovered later, and am still discovering right up to this moment, that it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith. By this worldliness I mean living unreservedly in life's duties, problems, successes, failues. In doing so we throw ourselves completely into the arms of God, taking seriously not our own suffering, but those of God in this world. that, I think, is faith."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, 1944
