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Our first week was in the small city of Entebe where the prominent religion is witchcraft. Our second camp was in the heart of Kampala, the capital of Uganda, where the kids were noticeably more needy. Our third week was also in the heart of Kampala but in the slums. News about this camp spread faster than any western media could achieve and our original 80 kids turned into 250 by day four.
Our western ideals and attitudes had to quickly change as we were reviewing and planning for each day. Time is merely estimated by most local people here. Therefore, the beginning of camp changed from day to day. Lunch was at no particular time, we ate when it was ready. People are much more relaxed and laid back, it seems as if no one rushes for anything. In fact, if it rains here, it is acceptable to show up late to work because you have been waiting for the rain to stop before leaving home.
(I suppose I can think of a few exceptions. People seem to be rushing if they are driving. The rules of the road as we know them do not apply here. What seems to be 2 lane traffic can easily split into 5 or more lanes depending circumstances. In this city of 1.4 million people there are only 8 traffic lights, most of which also have traffic police standing underneath them. The police frequently override the lights and direct traffic causing huge traffic jams which they think they are helping. The city is littered with crater sized pot holes, and a whole variety of speed bumps. These only slow people down somewhat, in fact, the solution to this obstacle is to buy yourself a 4x4.)
(AND, when kids line up for food, or line up for anything for that matter, there is utter chaos. We had injuries due to lining up. My theory is that normally if they don't push their way to the front, they don't get anything. We, of course, always planned so there would be enough for everyone, including those at the back of the line.)
Cleanliness and hygiene are also things that we have had to become used to being different than at home. Washing yourself is something that doesn't happen often. Laundry happens but it requires getting water and washing by hand. This is extremely hard work so it is only done periodically. Shoes are expensive and unnecessary and are therefore not used by many. This leaves kids pretty dirty. We handed out toothbrushes to all the kids and they were more excited about them than western kids are when receiving a video game at Christmas. Body odour is a normal, socially accepted fact of life. There is no kleenex, toilet paper, or towels here, you can imagine the result...
Safety is an interesting subject here. Every mall, hotel, restaurant, bank, church, etc. is in a gated compound with security guards standing by. The guards all have rifles, and many places have metal detectors, devices to check your vehicle for bombs, and other security equipment. Some of you may have heard that there was a bombing in Kampala about 2 months ago. I find some irony in this considering there are more security guards with rifles per capita than anywhere I have ever seen.
Socially we've adapted quite well. We've learned some Lugandan phrases that, when used, go a long way in making a friend. Generally, the African people have shown us great hospitality, often going out of their way to offer is help. We've learned that when someone raises their head coupled with a long blink, they are actually acknowledging, not snubbing. We have struggled, however, with peoples vocal volume. No one here speaks up! We haven't quite figured out what the reason for this is yet.
We fly home tomorrow. I am sad to leave the team, the city, the country, and the continent, but happy that we had such a fantastic experience! Stay tuned for pictures!
After being here for a few weeks, I slowly realized that this is simply another place on earth where humans live happily and comfortably. The local people are not overly concerned about mosquitoes, malaria, sun exposure, robbery, health care, and the like. They simply live their lives. And, after being here for a while, we simply lived ours. All of my concerns faded to a point where sunscreen, mosquito nets, bug spray, etc. didn't seem like such an important detail any longer.
Originally, I wouldn't have dreamed of walking barefoot anywhere here, but, time wore on, comfort levels rose, and I found myself wandering campsites, beaches, and more without shoes on. Everyone was doing it. I know, I know, bad reasoning, but when in Rome, or Africa... Especially when you are staying on the tropical island of Zanzibar, it just seems natural to wander the white sand beaches in your bare feet. Little did I realize that this would come back to bite me (more literally than you might think).
As the island became a memory, my left foot became itchy. I thought it was simply a mosquito bite which needed a moderate amount of scratching. After a few days without change my mind started to drift towards athletes foot. I scratched. My nurse friend took a look, she was not convinced it was fungal. This concerned me a bit, but instead of doing something intelligent, I scratched. Several weeks after realizing my foot was suffering from an ailment that could not be diagnosed using the extensive knowledge obtained from my Bio 30 course, I decided I should have a local medical professional have a look.
I have health insurance. I will leave the name of the company out of this post in hopes they will continue to cover me. I decided I should call Blue Cross (oops) before going to the doctor. My card suggests that I call them collect. It was interesting to learn that the Ugandan telecom company does not offer that service. So after 2 hours of phone drama, I finally reached a human being. She took my information down and I explained, to the best of my knowledge, what my problem was. She politely suggested I see a doctor. After my brain finished calling her names, I used my mouth to ask some further clarifying questions. None of these could be answered however, all I was promised was a return phone call.
My driver and I decided not to wait for the call. At this point I was ready to get this figured out. I scratched. My driver said he knew the place where all the westerners go. Considering my heritage, I agreed this would be a good place for me.
The clinic was called "The Surgery". There were many mzungus, including two white doctors. After about an hours wait, I finally saw a doctor. My ears have become tuned to Ugandan English so understanding him wasn't a problem. The conversation was short and sweet. He asked me what my problem was. I showed him. He asked me if it was itchy or painful. I scratched. He asked me where I'd been. As I was saying Tanzania, he said, "oh, you have a tapeworm. Don't walk on the beach without your sandals on next time."
The doctor's desk was littered with normal doctor things: pens, papers, pictures, a stethoscope, and a few pill bottles of random sizes. He sat down at his desk and asked me if I'd like drugs. YES PLEASE! At this point I thought I'd receive a prescription; instead, he grabbed a huge bottle of pills sitting right on his desk, dumped some into a zip-lock bag, and handed them to me. He said, "take one twice a day. You're lucky, this kind of worm affects dogs badly but in humans it can't get to your digestive system. Your body prevents it." Wow, what a relief. For those nerds out there, I have Albendazole, the same drug used to de-worm just about everything imaginable. I am on a strong dose because the worm is in my foot instead of my gut.
Interestingly, as I write this now, it has become incredibly easy to see the worm under my skin. It is like he has been found out and has no reason to hide any longer. So, you may be wondering, who is Taylor? He is the worm in my foot. I named him Taylor the night before I went to the doctor. There is no reason for the name other than it was the first one that came to mind as I gazed upon the small, but significant eighth member of our team.
We started our camp the same way we have in weeks past; songs, introductions, etc. At the start of the day we had around 80 kids, all of which were students of that school. However, as the day goes on, word spreads like wild fire about the Mzungus singing, playing, and making crafts. By noon, our number had nearly doubled. This can be tricky because we cannot always sustain such numbers. Classrooms are small, supplies are limited, and the kids can often out manoeuvre the adults making it difficult to maintain order. We can usually find a way to manage even though it is incredibly chaotic.
Our team is pushing hard. 3 weeks of constant interaction with hundreds of high energy children takes it's toll. We try our best to make sure each kid gets as much out of camp as possible; this is a tough task when you are tired, and emotionally strained.
I often stop and remind myself why I am here. Every one of these kids have hidden talents that are begging to be exposed. The sad, but realistic part is that almost all of these children do not have the resources to enable them. What I have realised is that they love us because we offer them hope; they see in us what they can also be, and more. I watch kids play football, for example, any one of these kids would dance circles around a Canadian adult. Almost all the children can sing, play drums, and dance. In many ways they are far more talented than Western raised kids.
I taught a class yesterday about aero dynamics. By that I mean I showed kids how to make paper airplanes. 6 year olds sometimes have trouble with learning the meanings of thrust, lift, weight, and draft. Nevertheless, they have been having a ball.
Craft supplies have been a cause of concern, but appear as if they will last with some to spare. Every night we make a huge mess in our guest house preparing for the next day. I usually make it worse by dumping a bag of foam fish over Lisa's head. We are all looking forward to the day we get to give away all the excess supplies. In fact, we plan on comming home with 4 less suitcases than we arrived with.
More to come.
Greg
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
We went to a Full Gospel Church in the morning before driving to the equator. They have funnels set up on both the North and South sides to make an attempt to convince me that water flows in opposite directions. I still don't believe it is true even after experiments. People also say that anything with mass is 3% lighter when directly on the equator.... Another tall tale I'm sure.
In the afternoon we drove to a village that one of our Music For Life volunteers grew up in. His family prepared us a fantastic meal; pork (from one of their pigs in the back yard), rice, avocado (from their avocado tree), chapati (flat bread made of wheat flour), and, of course, Mtoke (mashed plantains). The portions were more than generous; Brad and I were the only ones able to finish our meal.
It was cool to visit a locals home. We got to experience the true home life of the local people. Life here is simple; time here is spent doing everything you need to survive. Houses are very small, dark, and unfurnished. Most villages are without power, and water needs to be fetched from a nearby well.
For dessert they pulled out a 15 foot sugar cane. you don't eat the actual cane, you rip it off with your teeth and chew it until all the sweet juice is squeezed out.
We saw a 12 foot termite hill. Our guide told us a story about when he had to dig one up when he was a child as a punishment. His purpose was to find the 10 inch queen termite so a pregnant lady could eat it (termites are high in fat, and fat of any kind is considered a treat to most people). Apparently it took him 2 weeks to find her.
I bought meat on a stick from a car window. It cost 25 cents. Very salty.
On the way back home we went drum shopping. After at least an hour of negotiating, we found our drums. Unfortunately they aren't finished yet, we pick them up on Wednesday. We bought them from the guy who supplies Music For Life with their drums- apparently they are the best of the best.
Our drums are called "ngolabi" which are long drums with a high pitch- they are unique to Uganda. The skin is made of lizard skin which takes at least 1 month to dry and stretch before placed on the drum.
Day off again tomorrow.
Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless Network
Fried bananas (called gange here)
Baked bananas (matoke - a staple at every meal)
Barbecued bananas (gange)
Mashed bananas (matoke)
Chopped bananas
Yellow bananas
Red bananas (cool hey!?)
Tiny bananas (like seriously one bite)
Huge bananas (2 feet long!)
These people have a banana dish for every time and every occasion. It isn't a normal and proper meal if there aren't some sort of bananas involved.
