An Accident of History?

Hello dear blog readers! I am sorry for my absence from the blog of late. As mentioned in the last post, I have been in Western Uganda and Rwanda this past week, where I was without email access. However, I am happily back in Kampala now, and I hope everyone has had an excellent week.

This blog post is going to focus on my time in Rwanda, which was very intense, to say the least. Much of the time there was focused about learning about the 1994 genocide: how it happened, and how Rwanda is moving on. As a little bit of background, when the Belgians colonized Rwanda, they found two main socioeconomic groups: herders and farmers. The colonists decided that the herders were a more sophisticated people, who would be easier to work with. To legitimize this, the Belgians created two ethnic groups: if you had more than 10 cows, you were a Tutsi, and if you had less than 10 cows, you were Hutu. These "ethnic" groups were in fact not ethnic at all, but rather a false binary constructed by the Belgians to make rule a little bit easier.

Thus, the Tutsi became the ruling class, while the stronger Hutu were conscripted into the army. As it became clear that colonial rule was coming to an end, the Belgians thought it would be a good idea to "balance" power and turn the reigns of the state over to the Hutu as they left power. This led to a wave of violence against the Tutsi in 1959, which led many of the Tutsi to leave the country. In 1990, the Tutsi Rwandan Patriotic Front invaded the country from Uganda, sparking the Rwandan civil war. In 1993, a peace settlement was reached in Arusha, Tanzania. However, this peace was short lived when the plane of Juvenal Habyarimana, Rwanda's president, was shot down shortly after.

This event sparked the 1994 genocide, in which, over the course of 100 days, nearly 1 million Tutsi and moderate Hutus were killed, and two thirds of the country was displaced.

Learning about this genocide, my mind kept reflecting upon my experience learning about the Holocaust, particularly my experience visiting concentration camps in Poland the summer before my senior year of high school. My mind kept flashing back to the Majdanek concentration camp. Many have said about Majdanek that it could be up and running again within 24 hours, which made it particularly eerie. Walking into the gas chamber, I could still see the stains from the cyclone b gas on the walls, and the scratch marks from desperate fingernails. However, the most horrifying thing to me was a small window in one of the walls. Through this window, one of the Nazi guards monitored the gas chamber, to make sure it succeeded in its murderous purpose.

I thought about how many screams this man must have heard, how many thousands of murders he must have witnessed. I did not understand how a human being to be witness to such cruelty, how a person could watch other people die and not be moved to do everything within their power to stop it. It seemed entirely impossible to me that it was within the bounds of human nature to sit, every day, and watch people die, and do nothing but let it continue. Confronted with such extrordinary evilness, I remember breaking down in sobs.

However, as I walked through the Rwandan Genocide Museum, I was confronted with a different, and ultimately more frightening thought. The world knew about the Rwandan genocide. Every night on television, and every day in the news papers, the world bore witness to the genocide, and the world did nothing.

Much like the nazi guard, the world had its own window to the Rwandan genocide through the mass media and, much like the nazi guard, the world was able to bear witness to genocide and do nothing. Three years ago, I was struck by the extrordanary cruelty of this apathy to murder, and how it seemed to implausible to my understanding of human nature. Now, as I walked through the Rwandan Genocide Museum, I was struck by how ordinary and possible this human behavior is, and how many people have died because of it. Ultimately, this is a far more horrifying thought.

Now, to say the west did nothing isn't entirely correct. About 5,000 troops were sent in by foreign countries to rescue the foreign nationals within Rwanda's borders. After grabbing the foreign nationals, after pushing off the terrified Rwandans that grabbed at them and pleaded with them to stay, the troops all left Rwanda. Many have said that if those troops just stayed in the country, the genocide could have been stopped. Needless to say, a was feeling very angry and ashamed as I walked through the muesum.

Later that night, we had a processing session to discuss what we had seen. Many of the students expressed similar anger abour the inaction of the world to stop the genocide. In response, Charlotte, our AD, said something very interesting. She called the Rwandan genocide an "accident of history" like all other genocides that have happened in the past, and those that will likely happen in the future. She said that western governments were just following protocol, that they have a responsibility to their citizens, and should not be expected to do otherwise.

Her comment struck me as very interesting, especially since it is so easy to blame the west for the genocide. However, her answer was ultimately unsatisfying for me. True as it may be that governments may not have a political obligation to the citizens of other countries, I believe that human beings have a human responsibility to all people, regardless of race or nationality.

We call genocide a crime against humanity because we believe that the very existence of such atrocity is an affront to all human beings. So where was the righteous indignation of the rest of the world? Where were the protests and rallies, compelling the governments of the rest of the world to act to stop genocide? Governments should have intervened in Rwanda not because of esoteric international treaties, but because their citizens should have demanded it.

One of the other students commented that she saw a sign outside a different memorial that read "never again" and wanted to kick it down, since we have been saying "never again" since the Holocaust and "it hasn't done anything so far." Though I understood her anger, I disagree with her sentiment. I believe we must never stop saying never again, never stop believing that genocide is something that must be stopped. Because to give up on "never again" is to accept that genocide is merely an unavoidable "accident of history" which is something I am unwilling to do.

The grounds outside the genocide museum contain mass graves that hold 100,000 bodies. It is a Jewish tradition to leave rocks on headstones to bear witness. After walking out of the museum, I said a teary Kaddish and left three rocks (heart rocks, as is the Stern-Stein family tradition) on one of the graves, to bear witness.

Oseh shalom bim'romav hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu v'al kol Yis'ra'eil v'im'ru Amein
He who makes peace in His heights may He make peace upon us and upon all Israel; and say, Amen.

Never Again.

So as not to end this post on an entirely depressing note, I have included some pictures from the Western Uganda portion of the trip!

Hannah, Ali, Alena and Erin at the equator.

Elephants right outside the van on the way into Queen Elizabeth National Park.

Buffalo as seen from our boat ride in Queen Elizabeth National Park

Hippos!!! Who apparently are friends with buffalo! Who knew?Monkeys on the way out of the park. We threw them bananas.

Sunrise in the park on our failed Lion spotting excursion.

I love you all and thank you very much for bearing with this very long post. Have a great day!!!

Not your average Yom Kippur....

Hello friends!! I hope those of you who were observing yom kippur had a very meaningful holiday and an easy fast! I had a very interesting Yom Kippur celebration! Saturday morning, I went to the Baha'i temple in Kampala with some friends to do a makeshift tachlit service. The group included myself, Ali, and Margie (two of the other 3 Jews on the program, the third, Hannah, was sick and couldn't come) and Greg, who is Catholic but decided he wanted to experience Yom Kippur with us and even decided to fast as well! It was really fun to have him there, to share Yom Kippur with.

The Baha'i temple is really beautiful. The nice Baha'i man at the temple told us that there are only only 9 Baha'i temples in the world representing each of the 9 servants of the Baha'i god (Tom, correct me if I'm wrong here). The Kampala one is less fancy than some of the others, but it is still really beautiful:

The temple is surrounded by beautiful grounds, that make it feel like a really nice oasis from the hustle and bustle of the city. The grounds include a little cemetery with this funny sign:



So for tachlit, we incorporated Margie and my family traditions. My family essentially treats tachlit as making new years resolutions, and discussing on things we want to accomplish and improve on in the coming year. Margie's synagogue discusses good or bad things that happened in the last year, and as they throw the bread into the river (or the pebble down the hill in our case) they recognize that the event has passed and the need to move on. So the four of us did a hybrid tachlit and it was absolutely wonderful. I was so amazed by how candid we all were with each other, indicative of how close we all are after just three weeks together.

One of my personal goals was inspired by a story from this past week. I said that certain events or people put your life into startling perspective, and this was one of them. We went to see an organization that addresses HIV/AIDS in one of the slum areas, which is actually on the way to my house. AIDS is a huge problem there, both becasue of the prevalence of prostitution in the area, but also the transient nature of the residents (many come and go with the season, because the rainy season totally floods the slum) leads to a lot of AIDS being brought into the community. We met Regina, one of the program's community volunteers. She lives in a tiny one room house, with no bathroom or cooking area to be seen. Not only does Regina spend her time outside of work helping counsel other residents about AIDS, but she took in a young girl with AIDS who was kicked out by her family when they discovered she was HIV+. I was so amazed that someone with so little is so astoundingly generous. Certainly, a lot can be said with the discrepancy of how much I have and people like Regina have in terms of monetary posessions, and that is a perspective that I always try to maintain. But I was so touched by her generosity of spirit. After working what I can only assume is a gruling job for far too little pay, Regina comes home and listens to the problems of others and cares for her adopted daughter. I hope to emulate her generosity of spirit in this coming year.

After tachlit, I met up with my Mom and Kathie to go to a wedding. A couple of things that I had expected to happen didn't quite pan out:

1) I thought I was going to a wedding, but it was in fact a wedding reception.
2) I thought I was going to a wedding, but I initially wasn't allowed in because I wasn't on the list.

This reception was at quite the fancy hotel and I guess last minute "plus ones" weren't tolerated. So I had to enteratin myself for a few hours until the end of dinner. So I got some work done, read the paper, wandered around the nearby shopping area, and eventually got some delicious Chinese food to break the fast! Yum!

When I was eventually let in, my first thought was that, if you didn't look at the traditional Gomez's that the older women were wearing (my mom is wearing hers below!) you wouldn't be able to distinguish this wedding from a wedding in the states.
Of course, it was about at that moment that the traditional Baganda drum troupe in the corner began playing and the traditional Baganda dancers started dancing around the room. The integration of tradition and modernity here is very interesting, and was super apparent at this wedding, with the older generation in traditional garb and the younger in party clothes. One of my favorite moments was when the groom, in traditional Muslim wedding clothes, started dancing and mouthing the words to "Alejandro" by Lady Gaga. But after my exile, the wedding reception was quite fun. I got to dance a little, and I got to meet my older sister Stella for the first time, so I'll call it a success.

Well I am literally about to leave to head off to Western Uganda and Rwanda. I will miss you all for the week and I will talk to you all soon!

"Reform must have constituents and those constituents must be mobilized"

Hello friends! I hope you all are having a lovely week so far! I am going to start this blog post with the story of my extremely amusing taxi ride home today.

I got on my taxi when there were only two other people on it (they sit up to 14 passengers, plus driver and conductor). All of a sudden, this group of four men get on all at once and sit all around me. An older man sat right next to me and looked at me and smiled. I greeted him with "osiibye otyanno, ssebo?" (literally translates to "how did you spend the day?" but is used to tell someone "good afternoon.")

A huge smile spreads across his face and he greets me back, much to the amusement of the other men around me. I say "nsoma luganda" (I am studying luganda) and the men respond "bulungi, bulungi" (good, good) to which I respond "mmanyi katono" (I know a little). This gets huge laughs with the group. The man behind me introduces himself, and I introduce myself. Then the following happens:

Man behind me in traditional Baganda clothing: [lots of very fast, incomprehensible luganda]
Alena: Sentegedde, bambi (I don't understand, sorry)
Everyone: laughter
Man next to me: He says he will find you a plot of land and a husband
Alena: Nedda weebale, ssebo. Maama ne Taata wange mu America tebagala. (No thank you, sir. My mom and dad in America wouldn't like that)
Everyone: riotous laughter and shaking my hand

So apparently, while speaking a word of luganda gets you a thousand friends, knowing a few sentences of luganda gets you land and a husband- who knew? I chatted with the men the rest of the way home- in luganda!- and they all said a warm goodbye when I got off the taxi. So a thoroughly entertaining taxi ride!

So on to the rest of my blog post, which will go in reverse chronological order. Today, we visited the Parliament building after Luganda class and got to tour around the building, including seeing the chamber wher the MPs gather and debate and talking to one of the Women MPs. (Uganda has a rule that every administrative area- which usually consists of a few of Uganda's over 100 districts- must elect a female MP, in addition to the MPs for each district). I learned something very interesting today: In Uganda, laws are not written by the members of parliament. Instead, the laws are written by the executive (practically the minister who oversees the relevant sector) then the bill goes to to Parliament for debate. After the parliament votes on the bill, it goes to the President's desk, who has the ability to "accent" the bill (aka make whatever changes he wants) and then the modified bill goes back to Parliament for a vote.

The Parliament has the ability to vote down the bill, but this has NEVER happened in Uganda's history, since for the entire time there has been a multi-party system, the same party has held the Presidency and the majority in Parliament. So basically, this means that the executive makes laws, and there is really no check on that power. Don't get me wrong, I knew this happened practically, but I had no idea that constitutionally there isn't really an attempt to check executive power. Dang.

But now to the best part of the post. On monday we had a lecture on the media in Uganda from Andrew Mwenda, editor of The Independent, a super awesome news magazine you can check out here. First off, he is the most amazingly impressive person. He was absurdly well educated, referencing ancient Greek histor in one breath, and 19th century American Presidents in the other. Definitely put all of us to shame. He spoke with passion and authority and left all of us supremely impressed.

Second, he said several things that blew my mind. I will share them with you:

1. "The Ugandan political system is more democratic than the American political system."

Um, what did you say, sir? You couldn't possibly be serious. After all, we have heard over and over again about the entrenched corruption of Ugandan politicians, how the current leaders bribe their way into office. How could this be democracy?

He basically started out asking us to imagine the median American voter. He said this person probably has a house with electricity and running water, with a car and a refrigerator and likely a washing machine. This person probably has at least a high school education.

Then, he painted a picture of the median Ugandan voter. This person has 2-3 years of education and lives in a mud house with no clean water or electricity. At best, they get two poor quality meals a day and view sugar and soap as luxuries. Their per capita income is likely $300.

He said the basic interests of these two voting groups is very different: the median American voter's basic existential needs are taken care of and is much more concerned with public policy, while the median Ugandan voter is much more concerned with the provision of private goods. He said the problem with the Ugandan system is that it is too democratic, that politicians appeal to the desires of the the median voter for private goods through basic bribes of sugar and soap, instead of focusing on the public policy concerns of those who have enough food in their stomachs and money in their pocket to care about those things.

2. "Bribes are not seen as wrong."

He said that the political consciousness of Ugandans essentially stems from their agrarian roots. He said that agrarian societies place a lot of emphasis on personal assistance, especially from the rich to the poor. According to these values, a direct payment, in the form of 500shs (20 cents) for a vote, for example, carries a lot more weight than the fact that an MP voted for a certain bill to provide a certain service, which feels distant and intangible.

According to Mr. Mwenda, the rich are expected to extend generosity, so bribes are not seen as wrong. Moreover, bribing people is much less expensive and more efficient than investing in public works, so politicians have no incentive to change the system.

3. "We do not have citizens in Uganda."

Mr. Mwenda stated that there are no citizens in Uganda, only clients who get benefits from their personal connection to elites. He said that, because of the value placed on personal assistance and clientelism, the idea of rights, that all people regardless of connections are due certain things, has not penetrated the Ugandan consciousness.

He stated that "the law in Uganda is like a spider's web: it catches the small flies and lets the large bugs through." Because there is no conception of equality before the law, the law is openly applied inequitably, with people driving nice cars not stopped for traffic violations because they are assumed to be important.

4. "The opposition doesn't want to change the system"

So far, we have heard a lot of lamentations that an opposition party will likely never win an election as long as Museveni is alive, due to the rampant electoral fraud that keeps incumbents in power. However, Mwenda scoffed at this.

"Who does the opposition represent? Ask them what they're for! They'll only tell you what they are against! The opposition doesn't want to change the system, they just want to capture it for their own benefit."

Mwenda stated that the corruption that exists is the natural result of the structure of the political system: The poor electorate values existential needs over public policy, and values the personal delivery of goods over the impersonal delivery of public services. Thus, rampant bribery and corruption is merely the politicians responding to the desires of the median voter. If the structure doesn't change, then it doesn't much matter who is in power.

However, he ended on a positive note. He stated that as Uganda's rapid economic growth continues, the middle class will grow, and a group will emerge that is interested in public policy as their exestential needs are met. He said that if someone can motivate that group, then change can be achieved. That reform in Uganda must have constituents (the middle class) and those constituents must be mobilized.

This is the first person who has suggested a way out of the circle of corruption, that it is not essentially intractible. MIND BLOWN.

Basically, in the course of an hour and half, my entire outlook on Ugandan politics was changed. Pretty incredible. I seriously feel so lucky to listen to these amazing people and I feel like I am learning so much.

Sorry this is super duper long. But I wanted to share all that with everyone! Have an excellent week!

All the women who independent, throw your hands up at meeee

I know what you are thinking dear readers. A retro Destiny's Child reference to kick off a new week? What could possibly be better? And my answer for you is, likely, many things could be better. However, the song fits the theme of this post and if you would like some theme music as you read, you can find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lPQZni7I18

I had a lovely day today. I thought I was going to go to my mommy's village with her where she has a garden where she grows vegetables both for consumption and sale. However, the meeting she was supposed to have got canceled, so instead I got to hang out with Kathie (who was home for the weekend) and my cousin Kato (who is also typically at school but was home for the weekend). They both helped me with my Luganda homework which, as is the constant reaction whenever I try to speak Luganda, amused and delighted them both tremendously. As an interesting aside, everyone is always very impressed that I can "write Luganda." I was a bit confused by this at first, since Luganda and english share the same alphabet and once you get a few phonetic rules down (for example the "ch" sound is written "ky") it is a very phonetic language. But apparently people who have lived in Uganda their whole lives and are fluent speakers of Luganda cannot proficiently write the Language. I asked Kato and Kathie if this is because writing isn't stressed in schools, but they said it is taught so I am just confused as to why this is the case.

After homework was done, Kathie took a nap and I chatted with Kato for a while, who couldn't have been a lovelier 17 year old. He and I chatted about all sorts of things, in Luganda whenever possible, but often in English (I still can't answer "Why did you like Obama more than McCain?" in Lugana...). As a fun fact, the Buganda people name all of their twins the same thing. For twin boys, the older is Wasswa and the younger is Kato.

Later that night, my mommy took me to the Mother's Union she is in through her church. Essentially, the Mother's Union is a group of about 25 women from her church who act as a sort of informal lending and development institution. The way it works is that every other week, each woman pays in 20,000sh (about 8 dollars) and one woman each week gets that sum (about 500,000sh), taking turns for who gets the sum each week. At the meetings, the women also discuss development ideas. For example, my mommy was saying that they often talk about how to start farming businesses, or businesses selling cakes out of your home to school canteens. The women in the group use their shilling sums to put into their businesses as capital.

My mommy was telling me that one of the major debates the group has been having is whether to keep distributing the money as they have been, or to instead put the bi-weekly payments into a bank account that the members can withdraw from. Initially, my thought was that putting the money in the bank was the obvious choice, since then it would have the chance to acrue interest. However, my mommy was on the side of the status quo, saying that "If we wanted to bank, we would just use the bank accounts we all already have. We need to do something to keep people interested and invested." After going to the meeting tonight, it is clear to me how vital the support system is for these women, and how much their style of development, though perhaps non-sensical to my western perspective, offers something compelling, and ultimately development-promoting. It reinforced the idea that while donors have the capital to provide to developing countries, the best ideas for development are entirely homegrown.

I also went to a very cool market on Saturday that is entirely occupied and run by female vendors, so it was quite the girl power weekend! The role of women in development here is very interesting. As I mentioned before, the culture is that women with husbands traditionally don't work or handle financial matters, but I sense that the culture is shifting, thanks perhaps to networks of women, helping each other out.

So basically, girls rule.

"It's like a dog chasing its own tail"

L'shana Tova dear blog readers. Or happy Idd if that's what you're into. It's quite the auspicious day in the religious world indeed! Tomorrow is a national holiday in Uganda to celebrate Idd, but I will still be at school!

So I'm going to try to keep it short since I dropped the Anna Karenina of blog posts on you last time (which, btw I am currently reading. It is great, though not particularly portable for taxis. In an aside, would you believe that the one item I am most regretting not bringing from the US is note cards? If you know me, this does not surprise you at all.)

My classes have been so excellent! My days typically consist of Luganda from 9-11am, a break from 11-11:30, a Development studies lecture from 11:30 to 1pm, lunch from 1-2pm, and a site visit or an afternoon lecture after lunch, typically ending between 4 and 5. The days go so quickly because our lectures are awesome and the other students are awesome. Have I mentioned that enough yet? I seriously love these kids on the program. Good stuff. But our lecturers are absurdly overqualified, and say things like "when I was talking to President Museveni about this issue the other day..." Absurd. I am not worthy.

We had a very interesting/ depressing lecture the other day from Dr. Christopher Orach, who consults with the Ministry of Health, about Uganda's Health care system. For an hour and a half, we heard about the broken health care system in Uganda. About how 20% of deaths in Uganda are caused by maternal and perinatal mortality, and 15% caused by malaria and other infectious, but curable with the right resources, diseases. About the rampant alcoholism afflicting internally displaced peoples and about how there aren't enough doctors to treat Ugandans yet the doctors trained in Uganda leave the country to find better jobs. After the lecture, we all walked out of the room feeling the weight of the bleak picture that had been painted for us.

After lunch, we had the choice of one of three site visits and I went to see TASO, The AIDS Support Organization. TASO now has locations in many African countries, but the first one was in Kampala. Essentially, when a patient is tested HIV+, the doctor refers them to one of several treatment sites, of which TASO is one. TASO provides counseling and ARV treatment to the 10,000 patients it serves. After touring the facility, we got a show from the Mulago (the name of the hospital where TASO is located) Drama Group. The Group is made up of about 15 adults, all of whom are HIV+ and TASO patients, who tour singing and performing skits to fight the stigma that surrounds AIDS. The message on the back of their shirts reads "anyone can get AIDS," and that is exactly what they want to promote: that having the disease doesn't mean you are a sinful or shameful person. and that AIDS sufferers should be treated with respect and should be unafraid to seek treatment. The songs were very uplifting, speaking about how they are a family, how TASO saved their lives, and about how they were going to fight the disease.

After a couple of songs, one woman, Rebecca, told her personal story. Her parents died when she was young and she went to live with her aunt. However, there was never enough food to eat. She spoke of going to school hungry, coming home and doing chores hungry, and going to sleep hungry. She said that when she reached secondary school (roughly high school age) she saw all of her friends getting boyfriends, and felt that this was the only way out of her hunger. She started seeing a businessman and soon became pregnant and dropped out of school. She stayed together with this man until he died (presumably of AIDS), and he told her that his family would care for her. However, when she was tested and found HIV+, her in-laws kicked her out of her house. However, she found TASO, and through her work with the Drama Group, she was able to earn enough money to go back to school.

The message she preaches when she tours with the Drama Group is to tell young girls to abstain from sex until they feel they are ready. I know that now, with food in her belly, she can give that advice, but I wonder if the hungry girl she speaks to really feels that she has the freedom to make that choice. In such situations when human beings feel desperate, it seems so impossible to internalize the chance of getting AIDS. Or perhaps, if one can think about that risk, they decide that they would rather run that risk than be hungry. That being said, the group was lovely and it was wonderful to witness a program that does such good work. They also run skills training programs for HIV+ patients to teach them skills that allow them to earn an income while sick. One of those programs is in handicrafts and I bought a necklace made by one of the TASO clients (they are very big on calling their members "clients" instead of patients or victims, to fight stigma).

However, I will finally get to the title of this blog post. As I have heard a few lecturers, a few themes become apparent in Uganda's development problems. The largest of which is governance. Like all roads lead to Rome, all development problems seem to lead to bad governance. A little background: Following the repressive reigns of Milton Obote and Idi Amin. Yoweri Museveni of the National Resistance Movement Party siezed power in 1986. Since then, Museveni has been elected 3 times, and will be up for election again in 2011. Though his tenure has brought about stability and growth, most Ugandans will be quick to point to the rampant corruption and say that they essentially live under a dictatorship. The NRM primaries have been going on the past few days, and while watching one news report about ballot box stuffing, my sister Kathy sighed and said "I don't think Uganda will ever have fair elections."

This corruptions seems to be at the epicenter of Uganda's development issues. Local leaders capture funds meant to go to social services, unqualified politicians bribe their way into office for the bloated salaries of politicians, and are then largely unaccountable to their constituents. Today, one student asked our lecturer if there are any organization in Uganda to monitor corruption. The lecturer listed off about 10 organizations and then said, "but you see, it's like a dog chasing its own tail. The organizations to monitor corruption become corrupt themselves." When I think about this problem, I feel myself going in circles like a dog chasing its own tail. Politicians are capturing aid funds? Then publicize the funds committed to populations so they know when they've been cheated. But what then happens to the corrupt politician? They go to a corrupt court trial where they are acquitted. And what happens when the people try to vote them out? They defraud elections to keep themselves in power.

This issue is a tough one. I try to think that this means that the work I do in accountability and transparency is very important, not very futile, but in any event it is very fascinating.

And perhaps most exciting, I have some pictures!! Below are pics of the Nile river in Jinja and of my very Ugandan Rosh Hashana with my mommy Esther.

Failed attempt at self picture... Mommy is eating an apple with honey :)


L'shana Tova!!!

Njagala mmwe! (I love you all!)

Dear Leksa and Lauren, I do not live in a crypt and other selected stories.

Hello friends and family! I hope all is well in the old US of A! I am sorry I have been so absent the past few days, I was without internet for a few days but now I will have internet ALL THE TIME so you should probably be emailing me. Please?

So the most notable thing that happened to me since we last spoke was moving in with my host family in Sunday. When I posted my address on facebook (which is the SIT office address, not my homestay address) Leksa and Lauren were kindly concerned that the designation of "Plot 16" meant I was living in a crypt of sorts. Well, I am pleased to say that my home is wonderful and definitely not a grave of any kind!

The process of meeting our families was super intense. We all gathered at a hotel and they brought us into the garden in goups of 2 or 3 to be introduced into our family. I was the last one to be brought in, which was super nervewracking and made me realize that I am not cut out for the bachelor because I would just flip out during the rose ceremony. So, you know, darn. But when I finally met my mom (or mommy as everyone in Kampala calls their mothers), she was incredibly warm and my nerves went away. My mom's name is Esther Lubega. She came to pick me up with her sister (my auntie) Gertrude. Esther's husband passed away in 2008. I am a little confused as to how as the best I have been able to understand is that he passed away from arthritis. My understanding is that it is not a fatal disease, but I am also quickly learning that many things that we understand to be curable are less curable with the limited access to health care that many people have here.

However, Esther seems to be doing fine. She told me that the first year was very hard, as traditionally women whose husbands earn a sufficient living (he was a lawyer) do not work or handle any financial issues, so learning how to earn a living was tough. However, she now runs a small farm in her back yard. Yes, I have piggery (as she calls them) and chikens in my back yard. However, they are largely separate from the house and aside from a tour on Sunday, I really will only see them as much as I want. She also works on "construction projects"... I am still trying to figure out exactly what that means.

Esther has 5 children, however all of them are older and out of the house. The youngest, Diana, is at boarding school and I will go visit her. I believe she is around 16 or 17. The second youngest, Kathy, is typically at law school south of the city (in Entebbe) and comes home only on weekends. However she stayed on sunday to meet me and has been here the last two days because she has felt a bit sick, but will probably be going back to school tomorrow. It has been great having her around to hang with. She is really fun and speaks great english and I enjoy asking her about things, from religion and politics to agreeing that Lady Gaga is awesome and the biggest artist in the world right now. Speaking of religion, my mommy is protestant but all of her daughters have converted to pentecostalism. Pentecostalism is a sect of christianity that incorporates traditional African beliefs with christianity. Everyone here is religious to some extent, and the idea of atheism isn't really understood. However, people are largely very tolerant- I haven't felt wierd at all about wearing my Star of David necklace. Also, I'm lucky in that my family has hosted one SIT student before, who was also Jewish, so they immediately understood what that meant, which was very nice. I'm hoping to do some sort of Rosh Hashana celebration with them, probably just trying to find apples and honey, which should be nice. There are 3 other Jewish kids on my program, and we're trying to plan something for Rosh Hashana, and some other kids on the program who I've mentioned it to have all seemed super interested, so that could be really nice.

Besides Kathy and my mommy, the house is occupied by a very adorable little 2 year old girl called Pinky. She is a bundle of energy and so much fun. She speaks a tiny bit of english, mostly just to ask "how are you" which she likes to do over and over. To try and play with her, I made the mistake of spinning in my long skirt, which now she likes to do over and over, and I haven't exactly figured out how to say "I'm dizzy" in luganda. That being said, I am learning a lot of Luganda! My family is really great about teaching me and are all really amused by my learning. Last night, Pinky and I learned numbers together, and I taught her the numbers song I learned in school. The house help (that's what they call maids here), Ida, told me I had a good singing voice, which I naturally found shocking. Clearly I have picked the right place! There are two house helps in the home, Ida and Aisha, neither of whom speak any English. However, they seem to really enjoy when I speak the little Luganda I know with them, which really motivates me to learn.

The house it self is small but clean and very nice. I have my own room with a bed, shelves, and a mirror. There is a living room with a couple of couches and a TV, where I have watched many shows. Ugandans seem to love theit TV. We watched during dinner last night and a lot of the other SIT folks said the same thing. It's mostly news, music videos, an american idol type show called tusker project five, and various other shows. I watched one yesterday called "Wedding Moments," which showed a traditional Buganda (the kingdom of people that speak Luganda. "Bu" means "people of" and "Lu" means language of- your Luganda lesson for the day!) introduction ceremony, in which the bride's family and the groom's family meet and the groom's family presents the bride's family with gifts. My mommy said that she would take me to one later this month, which I'm really excited about! There is no running water in the house, which means that showers consist of pouring cold water over myself from a bucket, which you just basically get used to. But life here is really very comfortable and I really like my family so all in all I really couldn't ask for better!

I live in Kawempe, a suburb to the north of the city. Kawempe is a rather industrial part of town, and I get the sense that my mommy is one of the wealthier in the neighborhood. I walk up this long hill from my taxi and people often look at me funny, but mostly people are really friendly and they'll just get used to seeing the Muzungu walk by twice a day. This group of adorable kids lives right by the gate to my house, and they're really fun. I told my mommy about my real mommy and the rest of my family visiting and she got really excited and said you'd have to come for dinner. So you will get to see all this for yourselves. I will try to get some pics up as soon as possible.

So... I don't know if you noticed, but I said taxi in the last paragraph. Yes, I have conquered the taxi system! Once you know where to catch your taxis and how much each leg costs (drivers will try to charge you the inflated "Muzungu price" because they assume you don't know, but once it's clear that you do they are fine) , it's really not that hard. I wake up at 6am each morning to leave by 7. Walk down the hill and catch my first taxi which takes me to Wandegeya (the neighborhood right by Makerere University). Then I transfer to another taxi which takes me to Kamwokya (where the SIT office is) and I get there by 8. The commute isn't bad on time (compared to the 2 hours it takes many other students) and costs me 1300 shillings in total, or roughly 60 cents. However, I cannot profess to have done it alone. My first trip, home from school yesterday, a woman I met on the first leg, Susan, when it was clear I didn't know exactly where to catch my second leg in Wandegeya, offered to walk me to the taxi, told me the price, and waited with me until I caught it. That sort of kindness is just how people are here. It's pretty great.

Geeze Louise this post is long! But I have things to say. So, deal. Or stop reading. Your call I suppose. On Friday we went to Jinja to see the source of the Nile river. It was super pretty and I took some pics which I'll put up soon!!! There was a funny moment when we were sitting on the grass and Charlotte, the academic director, was lecturing and three monkeys jumped out of a tree and ran by. We all basically freaked out and stared at the monkeys, as nothing else could hold our attention at this moment. I was laughing with some friends later that we weren't sure whether we wanted to blog about that since it basically legitimizes the stereotyped image of Africa that many of our friends at home have in their heads. However, I suppose all stereotypes have a grain... or furry monkey... of truth. Plus, the monkeys are super cute.

Also, a group of us (including Shelita and Thomas- two Ugandans who work at the hotel) went out on Saturday for my friend Hannah's birthday. We went to a club right near the hotel (where we still were at this point). I was a little nervous going out in a city for the first time after a week of lectures from various people about all the dangers that face us (typical orientation stuff, of course). However, it was so much fun. Not that I have any frame of reference as I've never been to a club in the states, but Ugandans really dance at clubs. The music was a mix of East African (Ugandan Kenyan and Tanzanian) and American. Wavin Flag by K'naan (the official song of the world cup- he's a Somali rapper) came on and everyone got super excited and sang all the words. The boys (or "generals" as Charlotte calls them) were amazing about being very protective and running interference when needed. Over all, I was just overwhelmed by how nice everyone was and how safe I felt with the group.

However, I am going to close on a somber note. I was talking with my friend Greg a few nights ago about how this is my first time travelling in the third world (he worked in El Salvador last summer) and he asked me how I am handling seeing all of the poverty everywhere. I responded that it feel really hard to take it all in, since it is just everywhere. He responded that he felt the same way but he wanted to be sure to never feel ok with the poverty that is everywhere, to never be complacent despite the constant interaction with poverty. As we were driving back from Jinja, we were all having a fun time waving at the adorable kids on the sides of the roads, who would just beam when we waved, sometimes even dancing or jumping up and down, and waving excitedly back at us. It is so easy to stay at the surface level, feeling happy that the cute kids are happy to see you, without digging a little deeper and looking at the ramshackle shacks that the kids live in. Wondering why they aren't in school, and what the future will hold for them. As I feel more comfortable in Kampala, as Greg said, I never want to feel comfortable with the poverty that I see around me. It is a great injustice that such inequality exists, that I walk by kids with so little to go sit on my nice bed and get on the internet.

As I have started classes, it has become immediately clear that the answers to Uganda's poverty aren't easy ones, but that does not mean that we can stop looking for answers and be comfortable with the status quo. I am so excited to keep learning, and to gain a greater understanding. Who knows, maybe this semester, I'll creep a little closer to my own answers.

On that note, I just want to end this excessively long blog post by saying that I love you all so very very much and wish you the best! Siba Bulungi! (have a good day!).

Muzungu Time

Hello Everyone! I hope all is well with all of you! I have had an excellent couple of days in Kampala. Our first day, we arrived into the airport at 7 am. It wound up that 10 of the 17 kids on my program were on the same flight from Heathrow to Entebbe, so I got to chat to some of them before/ on the flight and on the half hour drive from the airport in Entebbe (which is right on lake victoria... like literally the runway is right next to lake victoria, wouldn't want to overshoot that landing). First, I love all the kids on the program so far! Everyone seems to be a great mix of really interesting and serious, but also self effacing and funny (which with development folks is often a concern, you wouldn't want a bunch of holier than thou saint types). This often has yielded interesting conversations which switch seamlessly to discussions of crappy american tv shows and ugandan politics in the same breath. Second, the drive from Entebbe to Kampala was amazing. In that 30 minute slice, I got my first taste of the incredible variation in Ugandan life. We passed beautiful fields of vegetation, informal housing settlements, and computer repair stores in 30 seconds of driving.

Upon arriving to the Jeliza hotel (our home for this first week of orientation) we met the other students and the acadamic director, Charlotte. We have gotten to meet a lot of the staff and they are all amazing. Charlotte, our academic director, is so well educated and seems ot be incredibly well respected in Kampala. Miriam, the assistant director, is so warm and sets everyone at ease instantly. Meddi, the student services director, and Mona, the transportation director, are hilarious and patient with all of our questions. We have also met the four Luganda teachers who are very funny and great teachers.

The rest of the first day is sort of a blur of jetlag and the feeling of being overwhelmed. Kampala is an amazing, but initially overwhelming city. Bustling is really the best way to describe it. People are moving everywhere, and crossing the street often feels like taking your life into your own hands; between dodging the boda-bodas (motorcycle taxis) that know no traffic laws, and the taxis (large vans), simply crossing the street was a harrowing experience. We walked to a bar that overlooked one of the taxi parks (Kampala has two main taxi parks, which are essentially hubs where the taxis congregate, surrounded by stalls of vendors selling everything imaginable). I just felt so overwhelmed looking out on what can only be described as (appearing like) total anarchy. I really can't do it justice in words, so will try to have a picture soon. As an interesting aside, taking pictures is apparently a bit of a touchy issue, with people taking pictures of government structures/ soldiers regarded with suspicion. So as soon as I better learn the etiquette, I will try to have more pictures.

The next morning began at 9 am "Muzungu Time." "Muzungu" is a Swahili word for white person, which I have already been called countless times on the street. When Ugandans call white people Muzungu, the say it without a trace of animosity or hostility, but mostly out of amusement and curiosity at the white people in their world. Unlike the normal schedule, which always runs far behind the set time, "muzungu time"means exactly at the established time. From the hotel, we set out for a tour of the city. We sat in our vans and drove around the city, as the staff in the car acted as tour guide. We stopped in the Muyenga neighborhood, which is perched on top of a hill (Kampala is said to consist of 7 hills, which apparently has been increased to 8? I am still learning the hill system...) Muyenga is the wealthiest area of Kampala with large houses (and interestingly also many NGOs) situated behind tall walls. We drove to the top of the hill and looked out over the city. The first thing that struck me was the huge size of Kampala and how seemingly senseless its organization is. The streets conform to no sense of a grid, and it seems to me that the city just developed sprawlingly as people flocked to it, but I'm sure I will gain a much more informed understanding soon. Also, the variation of the city once again struck me. You look out at the tiled rooves of Muyenga to the tin rooves of the informal houses. I've included some admittedly poor pictures, the somewhat perpetual smog obscures a lot of the detail.




We then drove down to "the hospital where you'll go if you get sick." This hospital, Kampala International Hospital (I think...) is the "muzungu hospital," where mostly foreign people and Ugandans with the money to pay go to get treatment. Miriam, who was in my van, was describing the costs of different procedures, which wind up being tiny by US hospital standards (which itself is interesting to think about) though often too much for Ugandans to afford. There isn't any sort of health insurance in Uganda, which leaves most Ugandans to go to local hospitals, where services are limited and often poor, and getting those services is incredibly difficult, and often involves waiting for days. It is for reasons like this that incredibly treatable diseases like Malaria kill so many Ugandans.

Later that day, we had a session about our hopes, fears, and expectations for the program. I said that my hope is that I transition from feeling like a tourist and spectator in Uganda to feeling a part of Kampala and Ugandan life. In many ways, that is already starting to happen. I feel less overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle, have become a pro at dodging the boda bodas, and have learned a little luganda to respond to the people who shout "muzungu" my way. However, I recognize that, in many ways, my race and my privilige will keep me from experiencing Ugandan life, and that I would be dishonest to say that I was completely upset by that. It was comforting as we drove away from the International Hospital to know that, god forbid I get Malaria, that I will be able to get good and expedient treatment, and will only suffer a few days discomfort. However, this is far from the reality for many Kampala residents (much less for rural people who often have even less access to health care).

I am sure that the sensation of living on "muzungu time" while many Ugandans live by a different system of time, and system of realities, will be a recurring theme as I navigate life here in Kampala. I look forward to the aspects of Ugandan life that I will have the honor and the joy of sharing in. Everyone I have met so far is incredibly kind and open, and willing to talk with the muzungu as we try to string together broken Luganda. As Jackson, one of the Luganda teachers said today, "you speak a word of Luganda and you have a thousand friends." People are just pleased that you are making the effort to understand. However, I am also glad in a way that I am sheltered from many of the harsh realities of the life of the average Ugandan. And, of course, the feeling of gladness at not feeling entirely part of a place I am coming to love (or, in Luganda, I would say njagala kampala, which means alternately that I love, like, or want kampala.... which won't be confusing or anything), makes me sad. So, you know, confusing emotions.

Mostly, though, I just feel exited. Excited to continue to feel more and more a part of things in Kampala, excited to start my classes (which sound wonderful!), excited to meet my homestay family, and excited for all the things I couldn't possibly expect so as to feel excited about them. I can't wait to keep blogging about my life. (For Brooke, "can we talk about it, or at least blog about it") I want to hear about all you lovely people so email me at amstern01@email.wm.edu.

Weeraba! (Goodbye!)