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!)