People Like Us - Quotes

I just finished reading People Like Us by Joris Luyendijk, a former Dutch news correspondent to the Middle East. While the style of the book is easy to read, the concepts are thought-provoking. Luyendijk reveals the inner workings of the international news machine, and reflects on how the Middle East in particular is often misrepresented and misunderstood in Western media. Note to self: read his other book, Hello Everybody! 

Some quotes ...

"I had always thought that the 'news' was a compilation of the most important things in the world. But after six months as a correspondent, reality set in. News is only what is different from the everyday -- the exception to the rule. With an unknown world like the Arab one, this has a distorting effect. When someone is shot on Dam Square in Amsterdam, it's news, but Dutch people know that people aren't normally shot there. They've been there themselves, or they know someone who went there and returned safely. But how much do Dutch people know about daily life in the Middle East? . . . If you are told only about the exceptions, you'll think they are the rule." (37)

"Dictatorship itself is the most important thing to report about in the Arab world . . . Writing 'around' this was like reporting on France or the Netherlands in 1943 without mentioning the occupation."

"Did the hundreds of thousands of anti-war demonstrators in Europe know what Saddam did to his subjects? I was not aware that many of the demonstrators thought anything other than: 'Of course dictators are bad, but war is really horrible, so we're against it under any circumstances --- Peace, man!' I'd say dictatorship is war, too; a regime's war on its own people." (214)

"The borders of the Middle East had been drawn by foreign, largely European, powers at the end of the First World War in order to facilitate their domination of the area." (quoting Henry Kissinger in Diplomacy)

unexpected reminders

Last week was Spring Break. Isaac and I, along with another young Canadian couple, took a five day trip around southern Uganda -- Lake Bunyonyi and hiking Mt. Sabinyo in Mgahinga Gorilla National Park.

Among other money-saving strategies, we took public transit the whole way. We got to the crowded Kampala bus terminal and we were immediately approached by a man with a slight limp who wanted to know where we were going.

"Kabale," we told him.

As happens so many times here, he took our situation upon himself and led us through the winding, confusing bus park to find the bus to Kabale.

"Sabo -- a soda?" he said before we got on the bus. Isaac gave him two 500 shilling coins (about 40 cents total) for a tip.

We paid our 25,000 shilling fee ($10) each  to the conductor and climbed onto the dark, crowded bus. It was already almost filled, which meant that on the bright side we didn't get stuck waiting for the bus to fill (that can take up to two hours) but on the downside most seats were taken. Our friends sat near the front and we made our way to the back.

Although we couldn't find two seats that were together, we did find two seats on the aisle. I found myself sitting beside an older Ugandan woman, with short fuzzy gray hair and poor English. A jaja, a grandmother, as they refer to older women here in Uganda.

At first we thought the TV screen at the front of the bus was a promising sign. We soon realized that, as the bus lurched out of Kampala, we were in for over 6 solid hours of irritating music videos: everything from Dolly Parton to Westlife to Celine Dion to Britney Spears to cheesy locally-made videos with Lugandan lyrics.

As we rode along, I found myself getting lost in the landscape and thinking. Graceful cows' horns seemed to pierce low-slung clouds. The rolling green hills were a relaxing change from Kampala. After feeling so discouraged, so fed-up with aspects of living here the past few weeks, I was happy to feel stirrings of affection for Uganda again.

Strangely, I found myself thinking about my maternal grandmother. Baba, we called her. When my brother-in-law visited Uganda in January, he was reminded of his own children when he saw the children here. While I have thought, "Wow! That boy is the same age as my niece and look at him carrying that water!" I haven't actually seen my niece in the children here. I haven't even seen myself in the young women here, who carry on completely different lives than I do. But for some reason, I saw my Baba here.

I saw my Baba in the way that the woman beside me was travelling alone. I saw my Baba in the way the woman groaned every time the bus bounced us -- sometimes clear into the air -- and held her hip in pain. I saw my Baba in the way she had food carefully wrapped in plastic, the gentle smell of an older person's body odor mingled with the smell of it. I saw my Baba in the way she slightly spilled over into my seat, the way she was embarrassed to have to ask the conductor when the next stop was, she had to use the bathroom.

Strangely, more than anyone else I can see my Baba as a Ugandan. Maybe because she's the most "ethnic" person out of all my close relatives, who knows. But something about the jajas draped in their wraps, squeezing down the aisles of a crowded bus, clucking their tongues at the younger generation, simmering pots of matooke over coal stoves for hours ... It was a strange thing, to be reminded of her here, to be suddenly yearning for her heavy breathing and quirky habits and banana boxes of perogies while bouncing along a road to Kabale.

trip to sipi falls

This week is October Break! Wahoo! A week long break from the daily grind.

Even though marking and planning are going to happen over this break, Isaac and I wanted to start the break off with a little getaway. Now that we've settled into our home in Kansanga we've been itching to get out of the city and explore a little.

Now, as a missionary teacher and a full-time student our options are limited by a tight budget. So ... rustic it is!

We decided to go to Sipi Falls, which is just outside of (or just inside of?) Mt. Elgon National Park, which straddles the border between Uganda and Kenya. Two other families from the school decided to go as well.

A few points about our trip in case you, like me, are in Uganda, looking for a cheap getaway, and are having trouble finding accurate information:

• We were told that the trip to Sipi Falls from Kansanga would be 4 to 5 hours. The way there took us 7. We rented an entire matatu (van taxis) for the price of 300,000 shillings. The driver tried to drop us off in Mbale, saying that was the destination agreed upon, but we told him that if he would not be faithful to the agreement we would not pay him the full amount. He begrudgingly agreed and took us to Sipi Falls, after getting lost for over half an hour. The way home from Sipi Falls involved getting a matatu to Mbale (10,000shillings/person) and then a matatu from Mbale to Kansanga (about 240,000). The matatu that picked us from Sipi Falls could not take us directly to Kampala because it wasn't registered to drive that route. The way home took us about 5 or 6 hours.  

• There is a stop along the way where the matatu pulls to the side and you are swarmed by roadside vendors. African fast food! We got dinner on the way home this way, buying chicken on a stick, cold drinks and chipattes for only a few dollars. 
• We stayed at the Crow's Nest. It costs 20,000 shillings ($8) per person per night, and this includes tea, coffee and a banana in the morning. It is rustic (bring your own toilet paper to the latrine, just in case) but fairly clean. Mosquito nets, sheets, pillows (either lumpy or hard as a rock), and blankets are provided. The view is spectacular -- you can see all three waterfalls from your room! There is, surprisingly, hot water that runs from a tank heated by a fire at the top of the hill down to the shower hut. It takes a few minutes to get the hot water flowing, so once it starts if you have a group make sure they shower right after one another. 
• Staying at The Crow's Nest seems to make the hike to the falls much farther. There are other options, such as Lacam Lodge and Sipi River Resort that you can look into. We stopped at one of the lodges to use the washrooms and it is definitely a more luxurious option than the Crow's Nest. 
• One thing we didn't expect: bring a sweater! Although the sun was hot in the morning, it became quite cool in the evenings. 
• Take the time to walk up to the look out looking over the Rift Valley (on The Crow's Nest property, with only a wooden sign saying "Viewpoint" pointing it out). Be warned that some local young men will try to tell you that you need to pay, because you've crossed onto their land. Tell them that your guide at The Crow's Nest told you that you didn't need to pay, and that they should take the issue up with them. 
• We did two guided tours: the hike of the falls (with our group, it took over 4 hours) and the next day we did the coffee making tour (very interesting!) Our guide, George, was from one of the local villages with years of experience in tourism. He was very knowledgeable, sincere, and easy to understand. Each tour is 25,000 ($10) per person, but because we did two we negotiated it down to 20,000 per person (40,000 for both tours). He also didn't make us pay for the children. 
• Children: the kids that came with us were troopers. They are exceptional kids, and even the guide was impressed. However, the coffee tour was a lot more walking than we originally thought and by the end of that (the second day) the kids were starting to reach their limit and there were some meltdowns. Also, the ride to Sipi Falls and back (from Kampala) is another thing to consider if you have a family. 
• Meals at the Crow's Nest: we brought enough food and snacks so that we only had to purchase dinner. Even though the meals are listed individually on the menu, they come in family-style dishes. This was fun, because you got to try a little bit of everything. Ordering one meal per person was WAY too much food and we could not finish it. The next night, when we ordered only 8 meals (instead of 11), we found we got the same amounts of rice, spaghetti, matooke, etc. so once again we were unable to finish it all. 
• One the hike of Sipi Falls, you are able to swim (the water is frigid, but said to be parasite free) so bring swim shorts if you wish. We had a doctor with us, and he swam, so I figure it can't be that bad!



Isaac in the doorway of our room. 

• The people in the region speak local dialects but, as you are close to Kenya, they also speak Swahili. So if you know a few phrases you will certainly meet people along the hikes that you can say hello to! 

All in all, the scenery was spectacular, the hiking was a little rugged (bring good shoes and beware of slippery rocks!), and the accommodations were rustic but hospitable. 

And the grand total for my husband and I to go on a two-night getaway (transportation, accommodations, and food included) came in at a little under 300,000 shillings ($120). Not bad, not bad ...

Our view! 

Our guide and host, George 

Me on the hike. 

Latrine and shower house. 

Coffee! 

George winnowing the coffee beans taken from his garden (his home is in the background)

gift

On Monday night we had a lovely barbecue at Heritage House with all of the new teachers and returning teachers who have already arrived.

At the barbecue I met a small four-year old boy named Gift, who is deaf and has cerebral palsy. He is from the babies' home close by, where one of the teachers (Cheryl Lynn) is very involved. Previously, the thirty to forty children (aged 0-5) at the babies' home never went outside the compound walls. As a result, they were terrified of their surroundings and didn't know how to function in the city. This also meant that the workers never got a break.

Cheryl Lynn pushed for this to change, and now each worker takes two children home to their village for a month or so. Last year over Christmas, Gift was one of the children left over because no worker wanted to take him home with them due to his special needs. Cheryl Lynn offered to have him stay with her family (she has seven children of her own!) over the holidays. Over that time, Cheryl Lynn's house help, a Ugandan woman, decided she wanted to adopt Gift. While this woman goes through the adoption process and Cheryl Lynn helps her get set up to care for Gift, he is staying with Cheryl Lynn's family. This is how Gift ended up at the staff barbecue.

Gift's story shows another layer of our experience here. It is hard to grapple with the desperate poverty that surrounds us here. When we go into town we are told to ignore beggars -- giving money is not sustainable and will only cause mayhem. When I watched commercials in Canada about "the hungry children of Africa" did I think I would sidestep a young boy holding out his hand for money? Did I think I would fix my eyes ahead of me when women holding babies try to beg through the bus window? I'm told some of the women actually borrow babies to beg with, but even that sad fact points to real desperation.

While I know that my first year of teaching will consume most of my time, and that by teaching at Heritage I am helping missionaries be able to stay in Uganda, I would like to volunteer in some capacity, to feel that I am helping in a meaningful, concrete way. One of the teachers visits the slums every Saturday and helps with a Bible lesson and feeding program, while Cheryl Lynn has offered to bring me to the babies' home.

I keep referring back to my experience in Ghana (I'm sure Isaac is getting sick of me mentioning it!). While there are many similarities, there are a lot of differences as well. In Ghana, I was in a small town. Here, we are on the outskirts of Kampala. This means we have access to things I didn't have in Ghana (like this Internet at home!), but, like any city, it also means that we can't possibly get to know everyone and, as a result, it feels more dangerous. 

From my immediate experience it also seems that the poverty here is much more desperate. I don't remember seeing so many people openly begging, even in Accra. I don't know if this is true, because my experience in Ghana is limited and I've only been here for five days! Just my own thoughts ... We've been so preoccupied with getting ourselves comfortable here, that meeting Gift was a sharp reminder of the greater needs that surround us. 

the sun comes up

I feel that I should write another blogpost as an update on my last one. The last blog post, written during a dip in the roller coaster of emotions, is not the entire story of how we are doing here. It's amazing how much has changed in less than a week. A week ago, we were in Hamilton packing up those last few things -- crazy!

When we arrived, we felt like fish out of water. We were afraid of so many worst-case scenarios. Everyday parts of life here -- like having a wall around your house, a night guard, having to watch your phones and purses -- made us very fearful. Now here I sit looking out the door at the barbed-wire topped gate and I realize that it has stopped giving me a gut reaction of anxiety.

Isaac walking with our goods from the market -- sugar cane and a fan! 

In one week, we've gone from total culture shock to things somehow becoming familiar. Today while I was working at the school Isaac did some shopping on his own and has gotten to know the local market ladies! We've been amazed at how trying to greet someone in Lugandan (even when we butcher the pronunciation) totally changes the dynamic. Solemn faces break into big smiles, and suddenly impoverished African children can laugh at an adult foreigner who is able to laugh at themselves.

On a practical note, greeting someone in Lugandan also sends a message that you are not merely a tourist, that you know what you're doing (yeah right!) and that you won't be easily taken advantage of. It's become a habit now to ask shopkeepers and boda drivers if we are being given the "best price" or the muzungu (white person) price. That usually gets a laugh -- because they know it's true!

The orientation for new Heritage teachers started this past Monday. It's been great to have a routine to fall into. When I asked if Isaac could tag along to some of the sessions (most of them dealing with how to navigate life in Uganda), the director enthusiastically told me he was invited to every session he wanted to attend, including all the meals! On Monday and Tuesday we were taken into town and treated to lunch, and they refused to allow us to pay for Isaac's meal. He has been welcomed into the Heritage community with open arms.

In addition to feeling more comfortable with Ugandans, we are becoming very close with other teachers here. Today the family arrived who will be living on the other side of our duplex, a young couple who taught here last year, along with their eight month old son.  We continue to fall in love with the family that lives in the compound next door. While I expected most of the teachers here to be retired, most of them are very young. There are several who are in their first year of teaching (like me!) and the "oldest" among us have elementary school-aged children! There are two houses (about twenty minutes' walk from here) where the single young female teachers live. The little pockets of teachers' compounds and houses, all within walking distance of the school, creates a very close community.

Today in our session about transitions and culture shock we were given some tips on coping strategies (also to keep in mind for missionary kids or other international kids who may end up in our classrooms):

- exercise regularly
- be kind to yourself; the occasional treat will help ease the transition!
- acknowledge your feelings and the feelings of others; don't bury them
- be realistic; don't tell yourself (or someone else) it will be all better tomorrow!
- when you feel self-pity, do something for someone else

Above all, do not isolate yourself -- something you may want to do in a moment of depression. It is crucial to reach out to others, to bind yourself to a community, and to find others you can share your experience with. The Heritage staff have become this for us, and we are so grateful that God has been some of these new friends in our path!

Getting used to the boda-bodas ... evening enjoying them! 

jet lagged -- 1:30am

Well, day 2 in Africa has come to an end. 

So far, our days have been great. Yesterday we were greeted at the airport by two Heritage teachers, ready with bright smiles and warm hugs. Although we were exhausted from two overnight flights and a day layover in London, we were both wide-eyed and excited on the drive to our apartment, taking in all the new sights. We got home, we unpacked, we slept (finally!), we visited the school (found wifi!) and in the evening we ate dinner with other Heritage staff. Terri, one of the school leaders, had even brought two Costco bags of chocolate chips back from Vancouver with her so she could serve chocolate chip cookies with ice cream. (Apparently chocolate chips are one of those things that are almost impossible to get here.)

Over dinner we met several more teachers, most of them single girls in their twenties and early thirties. I was relieved to find that they were “normal” – interesting and honest, making me hope we’ll become fast friends. We went around the table sharing our stories of how we ended up here in Uganda – from Holland, Tennessee, Texas, Vancouver and Britain.

At the end of the night, Terri called a boda driver for us. A boda-boda is a little motorcycle that is a popular mode of public transit here in Uganda. Boda-bodas veer in between traffic, sit at street corners waiting for passengers, and I have already seen somebody holding a metal bedframe sideways while riding one (?). Kembe, one of the drivers Terri knows in the area, picked us up since it is not safe to walk home at night. I took Terri up on her offer of a helmet and Isaac and I climbed on the back behind Kembe. Even though it was only a few minutes through the neighbourhood, and even though Kembe drove slowly, I have to admit my knuckles were white hanging on to Isaac and the back of the boda for dear life.

[Don’t worry – while Isaac and I will probably use bodas around the neighbourhood, we’ll avoid using them on any busy road!)

Today we slept in till 9:30, enjoyed tea on the porch, and completed our unpacking. We walked to the school campus (only about ten minutes) to meet up with Bill and Sharon, a couple who had invited us to their place for lunch. Bill and Sharon will both be working at Heritage and their three children will be attending as students. We had a delicious lunch of rice, beef and fresh mango and pineapple for dessert (deeelicious).

Bill informed us that he had set aside his afternoon to show us around if we were interested – we were! He would also be guiding our neighbours, a family newly arrived from Tennessee. The group of us trekked around town with Bill as our guide. He showed us how to take the mantatu buses, how to negotiate boda-boda fares, how to greet people in Lugandan, and where to go to get what we needed. Isaac and I feel so much more oriented now, and we really enjoyed getting to know our new neighbours. (I’ll have to describe them another day – what a clan!)

By the time we got back from wandering around the market and shops on Ggaba Road, we were exhausted. We unpacked our groceries and supplies, showered and relaxed for the rest of the evening.

Which brings us to … our nights.

Our days (all two of them!) have been great, but our nights have not. Something seems to settle in on us at night – homesickness, fear, uncertainty. The fact that we have a night guard, and are cautioned not to go beyond our compound walls after dark brings home the reality of risk in Uganda. The jet lag also has us wide awake in the middle of the night, listening to the strange sounds coming in through the window. Last night we fell asleep quickly at 10pm, only to wake up at 11! We finally gave up tossing and turning and watched a movie together. We didn’t fall back asleep until 3am.

Tonight, Isaac has finally fallen to sleep but I haven’t slept yet (it’s around 1:30am, and I am not a night owl!). When night started to fall, we both started to wonder why we’re here. All the preparation, all the mental energy of culture shock, all the homesickness … remind me why we’re here? Our feelings have gone up and down so much in the past 24 hours alone – from “Yup, this’ll be good as a one-year thing” to “I could see us staying for longer” to “I want to go home.”

It seems a little ridiculous to have homesickness set in so soon, but I think it’s a different mindset when you know that you’re here for ten months. It’s daunting, having all of that time ahead of you. I think the hardest part will be this first bit, before we become familiar with people and places, and before we fall into a routine.

I’m thankful that we have each other, and that we already have people around us who can relate and who are honest enough to share their own struggles with culture shock. I’m thankful that we can pray about it – the only place where I can bring gnawing anxiety and get a measure of peace.

Now you might be thinking, “What are you complaining about? Playing the martyr, acting like some tragedy has been put on you? You went there, you agreed, you pursued. Boo-hoo – you’re a teacher in Africa! Only your dream come true!”

Okay, maybe you weren’t thinking that. Maybe that’s my inner voice scolding me.

[sigh]

I’m getting tired now, I can’t let this opportunity to sleep pass me by.

three hours in london

Well, we're off. For Isaac and I, our "year abroad" begins today. If you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about  or if you don't know why we're going to Uganda (AND if you actually care to find out) you can check out my previous post about the details here. 

I didn't post much about our two months at home in Ontario (we were busy!). The short version: we had a great time with friends and family and I've cried a lot the past few days saying good-bye to my people.

Now we are en route to Uganda --- looking forward to the next adventure, allowing ourselves to get excited, but also taking Gravol to force us to sleep on the flights.

We had a long layover today in London at Heathrow airport, so we planned to take advantage of the opportunity to explore the city. Our flight was delayed this morning, so instead of arriving at 8:30 am we finally got off the plane close to 11am. Despite the delay, we were still determined to "do London."

We took the underground into the city centre (17 pounds for both of us to buy a day travel pass) and spent some time walking around. When we first arrived, we were thrilled to be there and quite sure that the hour-long subway ride was worth it. We got off at Picadilly Circus, and were amazed by the double-decker buses, gorgeous white stone buildings, statues and red telephone booths.

However ... after about two hours we both hit a wall. It's 34 degrees in London today, and while we were thankful for the sunshine the heat did not help our sleep deprived bodies, nor our jittery stomachs. We both just kind of ... wilted. Literally. On the sidewalk. We draped our stuff and ourselves on stone steps and shared a Sprite.

While we both thought London was a great city, we figured, "What's the point of pushing ourselves if we feel like garbage?" So we took a few more pictures, skipped Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey (even though we were SO close!), and hopped back on the subway to head back to the airport. All in all, we still think the short visit was worth it. But dragging ourselves around for a few more hours just because we're "here" and risking throwing up in public? It would not have been worth it.

After cooling off, changing and getting a Starbucks we're feeling much better relaxing here at the airport. We love you, London, but we'll have to enjoy you another time!

And the thought that haunts us now: We are going to melt in Uganda.

(Note: photo documentation of our three hours in London to follow in a future post -- having trouble with it now)