World Humanitarian Day

Crisis in the Horn of Africa.

Missing Africa

It snuck up on me. But it is true: I found myself missing Africa, including all the things that drove me crazy (well, maybe not the buses). I was watching The Constant Gardner and it struck me. It's in me. I miss children yelling, "How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you? How are you?" Repeatedly. I miss the expanses and the utter wilderness. I miss Muslim call to prayer. I miss the equatorial sun. I miss my freedom. I miss Lamu. I even miss being a "muzungu".

I don't miss the roads.

Uganda's Opposition Leader

Read this.

Hungry Ugandan Hippo

One of the wildest moments (literally) we had on our three-day safari in QENP was our dinner with a hippo. As we were seated to our tables in the restaurant of the fancy hotel (in which we were not staying), Owen's excited voice urged me to look up. There, not 15 feet from us was an enormous, smelly beast. He chomped down on the grass along the open terrace, mercifully, not paying any attention to us - or my flash. They have terrible eyesight, but you never know. Over the course of the next hour and a half, he ate his way around the hotel to the front lawn with majestic views overlooking the Kazinga Channel and Lake Edward. Apparently, he comes about once a week. Who needs a lawn-mower when you've got a lake full of hippos? If we were all so lucky.... On our way out, we watched him for another twenty minutes - getting ridiculously close to the most dangerous land mammal, in the name of great video footage. Better than Lorne Greene.

African Wildlife Foundation: The Hippopotamus

For whatever reason, I can't load the video of the hippo eating, so this will have to suffice. This is for my good and great friend, Mr. P. Fontaine: I promised you a hippo. Not as cute as in the Telus ad, eh Erika?

There's no place like...

Ya, ya... not in some corny Dorothy way: but it's true, on many levels.

It is really only when we travel that we can appreciate all that we have in Canada: space, freedom, opportunity, water, voting. And yet, for the most part, Canadians are apathetic about these. Many of my own students say that they will never vote because their parents don't. And here, we've met people who looked at each other in disbelief when we told them that every four to five years, Canadians get to vote. And that we'll have voted four times in seven years.

Throughout East Africa, we have heard and seen so much about the difficulties that regular people face. In Kenya, it seems even worse. People openly complain about their government, the law enforcement... the general infrastructure (roads, electricity...). We've often wondered why they do nothing about it. (Although workers are organising a country-wide "demonstration day" on May 1, to protest the rising cost of living. We'll see what it brings.) Buses are late by three hours: they take it in stride. "What can we do about it?" Roads are in terrible condition; they don't seem to notice. The quality of public education is worsening; they have to put up with it. "The government doesn't want us to be educated." Corruption abounds: they say they can't fight it. Many police don't enforce laws because they get paid off, even by the little guy. 200 shillings. 500 shillings. Better than a fine. The government has been the same (a majority of members of parliament have served for about thirty years) since they were born: they say there's nothing they can do. "If we fight, they will shoot us?" Verbatim. Nancy, Ivy and Eunice in Eldoret complained about impunity, about graft, about corruption, about their vote being meaningless. They are in their 20's and studied at Kampala University. They can't find jobs in their field because they don't have any connections. They work for a delightful Mr. Raj at his resort campground. But it's not the social work for an NGO, as they had dreamed. During the last elections, these girls were IDP's outside of Eldoret when the majority tribe burned down their families' barns, stole their cattle, destroyed their crops.

And then there's the second aspect to all this: there is no place like home (in the broadest and simplest sense). This is the most appealing facet of life in Africa (and likewise in south-east Asia): the overwhelming importance of family and community. Despite all the seemingly insurmountable difficulty, there is much happiness and playfulness. And trust. It's not all idyllic, but it sure is different from our North American experience. Every morning, primary and high school children stream to schools (in uniform) hand-in-hand with family or friends. Primary students wait in the front yard (such as it is) and are "collected" by their teachers before entering the building. Everywhere, children are children. They play impromptu games along the road, in fields, in the town square, safely. Their parents don't hover or organise. Why? Because they are known by everyone in town and are being watched. I hate to quote Hillary, but she's so right: "It takes a village." It seems here in North America, with our "First World problems," we've lost sight of this very important element of raising children - and connecting with individuals. We didn't see kids attached to objects and ipods: we saw them attached to adults, to each other and to play. I will miss this most.

This guy sings it best: First World Problems! I couldn't have said it better... Perhaps a good future project with my grade 11's!

And for obvious reasons, they don't "worry" about obesity and which workout program they'll buy next...

This bus is leaving right now? Yes! Now. Like now? Yes, get your bags quickly!

We arrived into Uganda by hired car in the pouring rain - mostly to avoid public transportation, though Rwanda's has been the best. The border crossing was quiet and muddy; we crossed on foot and were the only foreigners around. The uniformed officer was quite efficient, almost pleasant. Didn't even threaten to deport us. He mused aloud about Owen being a brother of President Museveni's; after all, they are both bald(ing), he pointed to the portrait hanging overhead to offer proof. We each paid our 50$ and were on our way - by foot toward Kisoro. A mob of money exchangers and moto-cabbies descended upon us like buzzards on a gut-wagon (for those of you who remember ALF). We fended them off for a while, but finally chose a driver and negotiated a price. 18$ to drive 14 kilometers. Capitalism is killing Danusia.
We hired a driver from Kisoro to Lake Bunyoni. He was pulled over by the police and after more than ten minutes of negotiating and pleading in Chiga (local language), we were on our way. Apparently, he was not driving with a license, but he assured us that he did have one. We arrived to our overland resort pretty much by goat-path, which runs along the lake - apparently a short-cut. The drive was possibly the most beautiful drive we've had. Here we spent two great days, canoeing, enjoying the mountainous scenery, and hanging out with two KLM pilots who were doing an overland drive from Holland to Cape Town. The freedom of their own well-equipped car... I don't know if at that point they truly appreciated what that means in Africa.
They generously drove us to Kabale, about 10 kilometers from Bunyoni and we were off again (reportedly this would cost 20$ with a hired driver).






In Kabale, we booked another safari, this time for three days, to Queen Elizabeth National Park. Luckily, this was much cheaper than our previous safari. Sadly, though beautiful - and affordable - QENP was no Serengeti, et al., and James was no Victor. Our first day was promising (despite the ridiculous "road" to get to QENP - see below); we saw a tree-climbing lion in the first twenty minutes within the park. These were to be the only animals for the day - save some little gazelles. The next three and a half hours were slow and painful. Furthermore, our guide was partially mute. Under certain circumstances (in D417), this is entirely welcome and celebrated; but not on this occasion. His response to any question began with, "Sure, sure..." and sometimes, that was it. Hard to get a straight answer in this part of the world, even when you pay for it.

Why we love Uganda:

Uganda is a fabulous country to visit. In fact, I would recommend it before I would recommend Kenya. It might actually be my favourite of the four countries on this trip. (Actually, I shouldn't speak for Owen).

What's so great about Uganda, you ask? Why is it better than K? Here's the list:

- Ugandans are generally friendly and kind;
- they are seemingly less aggressive and don't try to sell you anything;
- children wave and scream "Muzungu!"; sometimes they walk with us or chase us, as if we were Brangelina;
- adults and children ask, "How are you?" and wait for an answer;
- when you leave, they wish you a safe journey; when you return, they say, "welcome back";
- they say "excuse me" if they walk through and over you;
- poorer than Kenya, they seem to have real roads which go to the right places;
- they upkeep said roads;
- drivers are 50% less crazy than in Kenya;
- food is cheaper;
- avocado trees;
- the dollar goes farther;
- they welcomed us at the border;
- and it's beautiful.

How do you like this supermarket? Dig the school uniform?