On field days we get up at 6 a.m. to take our malaria pills with coffee or tea and pack lunch for the day. We pick up Judith, Amber’s research assistant, at 7 and drive some 40km to Rwamuhuku village, located in Kiruhura District in southwestern Uganda (see map). The goal for the day is for Judith to conduct 4 interviews and for Amber and I to provide support. Amber can't participate in the interviews because her presence is a distraction to the villagers and that has a negative effect on the data. It’s a gorgeous morning and I’m looking forward to the drive because, 
as I saw last time out, the pothole crew has filled in most of the holes from Biharwe to Sanga (most of the stretch of highway we drive).
The first interviewee has been chosen by Amber from the village roster we obtained from the Village Chairman and we already know the general direction they live in so as we drive into the village we stop to ask for a safe place to park the car and to find out where the trailhead to their house is. We come upon a gathering of 20-30 men, women, and children, all holding plastic jugs. They’re buying milk from a man selling it from the back of his bicycle. He pours the milk from a large jerican into a measuring cup and then into the customers jug. A green banana forms the stopper in the jug. Judith hops out to ask while all the kids surround the car to stare at Amber and I and play with my arm hair. It turns out the milkman is the son of our interview subject. We were planning on walking to his house but the milkman says we can drive there. It’s too difficult to describe the way though and he can’t show us the way because he’s got to sell milk right now. I look around at the crowd as they are looking at us. The whole milk selling operation has ceased because of the 2 muzungus in town. Judith is so good, though, at making things happen. She jumps in front of the line to help get it going again and pretty soon it is. She’s cracking jokes, making the crowd laugh, as she’s passing empty jugs to the milkman and handing full jugs back to their owners. I turn the car around to help break up the crowd and to get pointed in the right direction. It’s not long before Judith, the milkman, Amber and I are driving
through the grass and heading to the milkman’s house.
45 minutes later and Judith is conducting an interview of a wealthy rancher. These interviews can take over an hour so Amber and I go for a walk. It’s not long before we
come upon a group of kids playing football with a ball made of a wad of plastic bags wrapped in a net. I think these kids were supposed to be in school because as we walk by they stop their game and join us, all the while asking us to come to school with them. Something you’ll see often in Uganda is two men holding hands while walking down the street together. They are showing affection for one another, sure, but this doesn’t mean they’re a couple, or “practicing gayism” as our friend Medard put it., it’s about friendship. As we walked one boy grabbed my hand and one boy grabbed Amber’s. Ironically, the boy who grabbed Amber’s hand was teased for it not the other way around like you might expect. A variation on hand holding you might see here is one guy holding the wrist of another guy. I don’t know if there’s a difference in meaning. Anyway these kids were sweet so we did go with them to their school and meet the teacher. Someone asked the teacher why our skin was it’s color and the teacher replied “they are your sisters and brothers”. This was all in rough translation, by the way, our translator was busy doing the interview, right? English is taught in school here but out in the villages there aren’t many people who speak it fluently. We get a lot of “Muzungu! How are you?! I am fine!”
It’s now hours later and while Judith is off somewhere hunting down an interviewee Amber and I have parked the RAV4 under a shady tree. I read a lot, we talk a lot, write a lot, Amber works on transcribing the interviews, we take pictures, we get visited by villagers who want to exercise their English. A man named Patrick comes by wanting me to see his property in case I might want to buy it. We take a walk up this little hill that borders the national park. His property is right next to the main gate to the park so there is a constant flow of traffic. There’s a great view of the park, it’s lake and the surrounding
hills. From the hillside he explains to me his idea of building a lodge here for people visiting the park. He shows me where the bushes could be cleared for a parking lot and a little store with cold beverages. He tells me how at sunset the waterbuck and hippos come out to feed and from this hill you could sit with binoculars and watch. He’s really thought this through. His only obstacles are money and, the way he put it, not knowing the ways of the whites. He means he doesn’t know what we would like to eat or how to prepare it. Anyone interested? I could hook you up with Patrick. It would be a shame to spoil this spot, though.
As the sun ducks behind the hills Judith comes marching up to the car. She’s done her 4 interviews for the day so we load up and head for home while she tells us all about the people she’s come across today.
as I saw last time out, the pothole crew has filled in most of the holes from Biharwe to Sanga (most of the stretch of highway we drive).The first interviewee has been chosen by Amber from the village roster we obtained from the Village Chairman and we already know the general direction they live in so as we drive into the village we stop to ask for a safe place to park the car and to find out where the trailhead to their house is. We come upon a gathering of 20-30 men, women, and children, all holding plastic jugs. They’re buying milk from a man selling it from the back of his bicycle. He pours the milk from a large jerican into a measuring cup and then into the customers jug. A green banana forms the stopper in the jug. Judith hops out to ask while all the kids surround the car to stare at Amber and I and play with my arm hair. It turns out the milkman is the son of our interview subject. We were planning on walking to his house but the milkman says we can drive there. It’s too difficult to describe the way though and he can’t show us the way because he’s got to sell milk right now. I look around at the crowd as they are looking at us. The whole milk selling operation has ceased because of the 2 muzungus in town. Judith is so good, though, at making things happen. She jumps in front of the line to help get it going again and pretty soon it is. She’s cracking jokes, making the crowd laugh, as she’s passing empty jugs to the milkman and handing full jugs back to their owners. I turn the car around to help break up the crowd and to get pointed in the right direction. It’s not long before Judith, the milkman, Amber and I are driving
through the grass and heading to the milkman’s house.45 minutes later and Judith is conducting an interview of a wealthy rancher. These interviews can take over an hour so Amber and I go for a walk. It’s not long before we
come upon a group of kids playing football with a ball made of a wad of plastic bags wrapped in a net. I think these kids were supposed to be in school because as we walk by they stop their game and join us, all the while asking us to come to school with them. Something you’ll see often in Uganda is two men holding hands while walking down the street together. They are showing affection for one another, sure, but this doesn’t mean they’re a couple, or “practicing gayism” as our friend Medard put it., it’s about friendship. As we walked one boy grabbed my hand and one boy grabbed Amber’s. Ironically, the boy who grabbed Amber’s hand was teased for it not the other way around like you might expect. A variation on hand holding you might see here is one guy holding the wrist of another guy. I don’t know if there’s a difference in meaning. Anyway these kids were sweet so we did go with them to their school and meet the teacher. Someone asked the teacher why our skin was it’s color and the teacher replied “they are your sisters and brothers”. This was all in rough translation, by the way, our translator was busy doing the interview, right? English is taught in school here but out in the villages there aren’t many people who speak it fluently. We get a lot of “Muzungu! How are you?! I am fine!”It’s now hours later and while Judith is off somewhere hunting down an interviewee Amber and I have parked the RAV4 under a shady tree. I read a lot, we talk a lot, write a lot, Amber works on transcribing the interviews, we take pictures, we get visited by villagers who want to exercise their English. A man named Patrick comes by wanting me to see his property in case I might want to buy it. We take a walk up this little hill that borders the national park. His property is right next to the main gate to the park so there is a constant flow of traffic. There’s a great view of the park, it’s lake and the surrounding
hills. From the hillside he explains to me his idea of building a lodge here for people visiting the park. He shows me where the bushes could be cleared for a parking lot and a little store with cold beverages. He tells me how at sunset the waterbuck and hippos come out to feed and from this hill you could sit with binoculars and watch. He’s really thought this through. His only obstacles are money and, the way he put it, not knowing the ways of the whites. He means he doesn’t know what we would like to eat or how to prepare it. Anyone interested? I could hook you up with Patrick. It would be a shame to spoil this spot, though.As the sun ducks behind the hills Judith comes marching up to the car. She’s done her 4 interviews for the day so we load up and head for home while she tells us all about the people she’s come across today.
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