Little White Boy

Contrary to what he might like you to believe, D.O.G. is thriving here. As he moves into his golden years (he’s 16 now) he seems to be appreciating the sun and the shade in our compound while at the same time complaining about everything for attention, his usual modus operandi. He goes on little walks looking for mice (of which he’s eaten many and at least one lizard which he promptly threw back up). He has his spots in the bushes where he can sleep in the shade or the sun without worrying about being disturbed by anyone. And he has us to answer to his every need and to watch over him in case any stray cats or dogs threaten his way of life. He’s looking thinner than he ever has I assume from the exercise. He’s still an endless source of entertainment for Amber and I and now for our new friends here. D.O.G. must have scored high on the karma spectrum in his last life.

The first time D.O.G. went outside in our new home a large group of small birds landed on the fence nearby to check him out. It was as if they had never seen a cat before. I had yet to see a cat in Uganda too so I wondered what they were saying as the birds chirped up a storm and D.O.G. scowled back at them. Many of our Ugandan friends, upon meeting D.O.G., have been shocked at how big he is so I imagine those birds were maybe thinking the same. So D.O.G. is sitting outside in the fresh air for the first time in a long, long time, smelling the air and feeling the sunlight when someone walked by. You’d think he had never seen a black man before because he sunk to the ground and crawled back inside. Is our innocent little cat prejudiced? He’s having a hard time feeling comfortable with Ugandans. It doesn’t help that many of our Ugandan friends don’t know how to pet a cat properly. Our cleaning lady, while perfectly comfortable with him now, had a long period of getting used to an animal as big as D.O.G. lounging around the house. If it were a goat or a chicken I think they wouldn’t think twice but D.O.G. is a cat. Maybe they think of him as a small leopard. Maybe D.O.G. would like to be thought of as a small leopard.

Early one morning, the sun just a hint on the horizon, I woke up to something big and black flying around our bedroom. Recently our friend Danny and I spent 45 minutes trying to get a bat out of one of our neighbors’ apartment so it seemed it was our turn. D.O.G. was already on the case, following it around the room on the floor. Uh oh, I better keep him away from that so I got up and the thing flew into the other room with me and D.O.G. in pursuit. I didn’t really know what to do so for some reason I grabbed a towel. I could tell from D.O.G. that it had flown into the bookcase and was hanging out about 2 shelves down. What do I do? I moved to the other side of the room and crouched down to get a look. Just as I was kneeling down it flew out straight at me. I threw the towel over it. It sank to the ground and there was no movement, just me and the cat staring at a towel for a moment. Then I picked it up slowly. It wasn’t a bat it was a giant black butterfly. D.O.G. tried to bite it and took a piece if the wing off as it flew off somewhere. He also got a face full of black powder. I felt awful for traumatizing a butterfly. Traumatizing a bat is acceptable for some reason but a beautiful butterfly is kinda sacred, no? It survived our attack only for a few hours. Later that day I found it’s body on the floor.

Many of you know, D.O.G. makes friends pretty fast. I’ve pulled him out or and seen him run out of nearly every apartment in the row. If he sees an open door he takes it as an invitation to come in and have a look around. Some people love it when a cat unexpectedly rubs up against their leg, some people don’t. I think a lot of people don’t think of cats as pets. I’ve gotten the impression from many people that cats are dirty. Understandable when you get a look at a stray cat around here, and anywhere for that matter. This has led to some startling reactions when we tell them that he sleeps in our bed. We’ve had some puzzling expressions when we explain to them that D.O.G. doesn’t pee outside, he pees in this little tub where we put newspaper we’ve cut into little strips for him to pee on. “What does he eat?” you ask. Well, his prescription food is not sold in stores here so we had to carry over for him a YEARS SUPPLY! The lengths we go to please our little guy are not the practice of many folks, let alone many Ugandan folks. But after 16 years of taking care of what may in the end be the worlds’ most expensive cat, it’s just what you do. here's D.O.G. napping in his favorite mint patch just outside our place. Now that's inner peace.

The Leopard

2 hours drive northwest of Mbarara, on the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo, and wedged between 2 mountain ranges is one of the most beautiful national parks I’ve ever seen. True, national parks are always in unique and beautiful places, so I guess it’s extraordinary-ness is normal. I don’t know why, but I always feel, when beginning a blog entry, that I need to make things sound extraordinary and amazing, so that you, the reader will be gripped by my story, riding the edge of “wow” and “I don’t believe you, Dean. That’s incredible!” I always tell the truth, though, and exaggerate only when necessary, which in a land of extremes is never. But being in Uganda and having so many new and different experiences, almost every day, does provide me with plenty of great stories to tell. That being said let me preclude this story with “WOW!! THAT IS EXTRAORDINARY” and continue.

Queen Elizabeth National Park is situated in the west arm of the Albertine Rift Valley. This valley is formed from 2 plates of the African continent ripping apart. The north plate is pushing northward into the Middle East and the Mediterranean and will eventually build a mountain range somewhere in Saudi Arabia. The south plate is going, well south I think. Also known as the Great Rift Valley, it and its surrounding mountains are home to the Nile River and many of its tributaries. You get the idea. It’s big. The park vegetation is diverse. There are many lakes that support fish and wetland plants and trees. There is jungle so thick you can’t see more than a couple of feet into. And there is vast, vast, vast arid grassland just like you see on National Geographic. The valley is full of big animals and there are lots of roads to drive on for viewing them, which we did, Amber and I with our friend Cissi visiting from London. It was Easter weekend and all the lodging in the park was booked full so our plan was to spend the day in the park, have dinner at the fancy lodge, and then drive to Kasese just outside the park for the night. We didn’t know this would be a problem. No one told us you’re not allowed to drive on the park roads at night. Sure, it makes perfect sense now that we have driven on the park road at night. All those big animals come out at night. And it gets really dark in Queen Elizabeth. You don’t see them until you are very close.

Ok, Ok, back up a little. Let me tell you about the beautiful day before I get into the exciting night. We woke up at 6:30 a.m., still dark, full moon reflecting on a smooth black lake, and ate breakfast at our favorite place, Jacana Safari Lodge. You have to get an early start if want to see any lions as they go to bed early in the day. Also, the light is best for photographs when the sun is low in the sky. And that day was gorgeous. Within the first few hundred meters of our game drive we were taking photos of a huge herd of Ugandan Kob eating grass still wet with morning dew and with a full view of the Rwenzori mountains in the background. That alone was worth getting up early for but the drive continued to be beautiful and cameras were firing at will as we watched herds of waterbuck, buffalo, exotic birds, and even a lone hippo grazing out of the water in full sun. Hey hippo, are you so hungry, hungry you don’t care about getting sunburnt. (Hippos generally stay in the water all day to keep cool and to keep from getting sunburnt and then go out at night to graze. FYI) We had lunch at the lodge and a few beers and then were back out for a boat ride in the Kazinga Channel and more animal viewing just before sunset. The Kazinga Channel connects 2 huge lakes, George and Edward, and is a great place to see animals interact as they bathe, drink, and keep cool on the lakeshore. Elephants clearly are the king of the jungle. Everyone moves out of their way as they stroll about getting wet and eating trees. Destroying trees actually. There are crocodiles strewn about the shore with their mouths open to attract bugs. The bugs, attracted to the saliva, will land in the crocs’ mouth and when there is enough to be bothered with the croc shuts it’s trap and down the gullet they go. We pass a sand bar with every square inch taken up by some bird drying their feathers and beaks off in the breeze coming off Lake Edward. I’m planning a blog entry entirely on birds so I’ll be going into this more then. There’s a fishing village on the channel. People living in harmony with the animals you think? Maybe but I met someone who works at the hospital nearby and she has seen many fishermen come in with injuries from hippos who get annoyed and decide to tip their boat and try to crush them. Hippos have a reputation of unfriendly behavior and they could snap you in half as easy as you can snap your fingers if they feel like it. The sun is going down and it’s coming up on time for dinner so we head back to the lodge for that and then it’s off to bed in Kasese.

It’s 9:30 p.m. and we’re at the gate to leave the park. The ranger, not the first one we’ve talked to, is the first one to tell us that it’s illegal to drive in the park after dark. He’s telling us we can’t leave. But the lodge is full, there’s no place for us to stay, we have to leave. Amber gets out of the car and tries to reason with him. The ranger radios someone and they discuss what to do. It took a fair amount of convincing on Amber’s part but the ranger eventually concedes, not without instilling some fear in us. He explains that most of the animals are nocturnal and to drive very slow to avoid hitting one. He also gives us his personal cell phone number with instructions to call immediately if we run into any trouble. It’s about 16km on a dirt road to the park gate and the tarmac highway. Almost immediately we are scaring away birds that were warming themselves in the road so I’m going pretty slow. We come around a corner and about 20 feet in front is something big squatting at the edge of the road. It’s head turns halfway towards us and we get a profile. It’s a big cat! It’s spraying or peeing on a bush at the edge of the road and doesn’t stop what it’s doing for us. We wait a few seconds while the cat finishes and starts to move. I inch a little closer and we finally get a look at the markings. It’s a leopard and it’s at least as big as me but maybe a little bigger, made entirely of muscle and teeth, and not afraid. The cat steps calmly off the road and gives us the death stare, its mouth hanging open as we crawl past. Yes the windows were rolled up as soon as we saw it. Oh, My, God! That got the adrenaline flowing. I pick up some speed and come to a hook in the road. On the inside corner of the curve stands a bush about 8 feet tall. Above the bush, as we round the corner, I see a big black shape about 12 feet tall moving across the road. It’s an elephant and it’s running to get out of our way! It gives out a deep loud squeal as we peel past and get a close view of its rear end. Being that close to a running elephant, even from inside a car, you feel every step in your chest. Ok, we need to get off this road. It really isn’t safe at all. But driving faster would be the wrong thing to do. So I set the pace at about 20km per hour as the fastest we can safely go and we continue. We catch the moonlight shining off the backs of 2 hippos grazing just off the road. Keep going Dean, there’s a lot of eyes glowing out there. We do eventually reach the gate, get on the highway and make it to the hotel with time to spare for a beer to calm the nerves. The only regret I have is there aren’t any pictures of the leopard. I don’t think a camera flash would’ve helped our situation and we would’ve had to have the windows down to take a photo. That was not going to happen.

The rest of Cissis’ visit has been filled, leisurely of course, with showing her around Mbarara. We bought produce in the market, she bought some African fabrics to make some pillows as well as some gifts for her friends. She took a few boda boda rides which are a must for anyone visiting Uganda. We took a special (that’s a what you call a cab here) down to the gas station to put her on a bus to Kampala. Hejdo Cissi until next time. As for me I’m left feeling lucky for what I’ve seen and done and also feeling like I have a lot more to see and do. One thing I’d like to get better at here is haggling. I just learned that a pineapple should cost 800 Ush. I’ve been paying 1500 Ush and feeling like I’m getting a deal. Mzungu Prices! So unfair. The exchange rate for US dollars right now is 2100 Ush to the dollar. So that’s only a difference of about 30 cents but every cent counts when you don’t have an income.

Zanzibar

Monday March 16th 2009

Zanzibar is where Arabia melds with Africa. This small archipelago off the coast of Tanzania in the Indian Ocean is paradise for anyone interested in swimming, snorkeling, diving, eating, history, shopping, you name it. Amber and I, along with our friends from Seattle Sarah, Steve, and Todd landed in the hot, sweaty night after a long but easy plane ride from Entebbe to Nairobi to here. After riding on the cramped, dusty buses of Uganda the economy class seats on Kenyan Air felt like first class.
After checking in to our hotel in Stonetown, the capital of Zanzibar, we took a walk to a beachside plaza to check out the seafood market. Every night vendors setup tables, oil lamps, and barbecues in this park and cook up skewers of fresh seafood. Tuna, marlin, lobster, calamari, mussles, snails, clams, octopus, you can have a giant crab claw, plus Indian flatbreads, falafel, vegetables, fresh squeezed sugarcane juice, chocolate covered bananas, heavenly heaven for a seafood lover like me. And cheap too. A lobster skewer will run you about $2 US, even less if you’ve got bargaining skills. At each table the cook has his inventory on display, most of the way cooked but not quite done. They grab plate and place on it the skewers of your choice, then when you’re ready the throw it back on the grill to finish cooking. Some of the vendors have a chili sauce, called pili pili, to brush on if you like. I like. If I lived here I would eat here every night. We sat in the grass amongst the Zanzibar stray cats and looked out at the wooden boats in the harbor and up at the stars in the sky.
The next day we got up early and ate breakfast together, included in most accommodations around these parts, on the rooftop lounge of the hotel. As you look out over Stonetown you’ll see that many hotels have rooftop places to hang out. The streets of Stonetown are extremely narrow and extremely not straight so the breeze doesn’t get down into the depths of it. But up on the roof you can see the ocean and feel the breeze coming off it and the sun heating up the day. It gets frickin’ hot here, by the way. Mid 90’s with a humidity of oh my god. We only plan to spend one day here and this is it so we all wanted to get the most out of it. We booked ourselves on a spice tour for the first part of the day. Zanzibar has built a reputation for its spices. They say that in the old days of the explorers you could smell the cloves long before you could see the island. I felt that it would be interesting but I have to admit I thought it might be a little too touristy for my taste. I was wrong, it was one of the coolest things I’ve done. After a short drive out of town and into the hills we got out for a walk through a spice plantation. They didn’t grow only one spice on this plantation. They grew pretty much every spice you can think of. As we walked the guide would stop a tree or bush and pick the fruit, flower, or leaves, pass it around and ask us to guess which spice it is. We had cinnamon bark straight off the cinnamon tree. Bite down on a fresh clove fruit and your whole mouth will go numb. Ginger, when eaten right out of the ground, is really really hot! Fresh nutmeg will make you feel light headed. All these spices were interspersed with the tasting of fresh fruit. We had the best grapefruit, lychee, orange, and coconut right off the tree. It was sensory overload.
The rest of that day the group split up and Amber and I walked around town to look for souvenier's. Stonetown is a labyrinth of narrow streets full of shops, mosques, hotels, and even workshops. Streets only had to be wide enough to get a hand cart down back then so buildings were put very close together. Getting lost is part of the experience, as is dodging scooters and warding off salesmen. Mostly built when it became the capital of the Omani kingdom in the 1800’s, it was the heart of the Arab slave trade. Many of its citizens became very wealthy. The doors on the houses are notorious for their elaborate display of the wealth of their inhabitants. And now, after over a hundred years of salt air, the town has developed a thick patina of Asian smells, African carvings, Muslim chanting and Swahili ballyhoo. It’s an ancient metropolis at a tropical island pace. They even have a phrase to use much like “hang loose’ in Hawaii is used. It’s “hakuna matata” and it means “no worries”. Amber and I dove into a few deep curio shops, bought some postcards, and just explored for a few hours before meeting up with our friends at a bar called Mercury’s which is named after the famous Zanzibar born singer Freddy.
After breakfast the next day I had a scooter driving lesson planned. We wanted to go to the other side of the island, mostly beach, and we thought scooter would be the best way to go. Since I don’t have an international driving license I had to pay for a temporary permit (about $7 US). After 20 minutes of starting, shifting gears, coming to a complete stop and then starting again, the instructor felt comfortable enough to let us go and our friends followed in a rented car. As we zipped across the island we were wafted by the smells of ocean and spices. What a way to go! It took a little over an hour to get to our little bungalow on a length of powder white beach stretching all the way up the northeast side of the island. We spent the next few days lounging in the shade, swimming in the pool, snorkeling around the atoll nearby, drinking blue and green cocktails at happy hour, and eating in luxury.
It’s Saturday now and time for our friends to head home. Amber and I have a couple more days to explore. After coffee on the beach watching the sunrise we ate breakfast and took one last dip in the pool before parting ways, until next time. We hopped on the scooter, me in the drivers seat backpack on my front, Amber on the back with a backpack on her back. We scooted straight down the middle of the island to Unguja Ukuu (South Zanzibar). We were stopped twice by the police to check our license but, contrary to much warning about it, never were pressured to pay a bribe. The police are not paid very well and so many have resorted to using their authority to extort innocent passersby. This is the reputation they have built anyway and while they didn’t come across to me as being friendly, I never felt like I was in a situation I didn’t want to be in. I have no problem proving to the authorities that I’m following their rules. I may need their help sometime.
2 hours later we found ourselves at Menai Bay Beach Resort, among huge baobab trees, in another piece of tropical wonderland overlooking the Menai Bay Nature Preserve. It’s pretty quiet on this side of the island. Upon signing the guest book we learned that we’re their first visitors in a month. Luckily we had called ahead and they were ready and willing to take us in. After settling in and washing off the road, scootering in paradise is dirty work you know, we walked down the beach to the only other business establishment in the area, a little mom and pop Thai restaurant. Run by an older couple, she’s from Thailand he’s from Italy, this little restaurant has it all figured out. Great spot, great food, great service. “We’ll be back for dinner, thanks”.
We got back on the scooter and went about 10km down the road to the Jozani National Park for a guided nature walk. For only $4 US + tip for the guide you can stroll through some of the strangest forest you’ve ever seen. The first part of our three part walk was through thick mahogany and palm trees. With the water table just 2 ½ feet below ground the trees don’t have much to grab on to and so, after reaching about 100 feet tall, they simply fall over. Some trees have adopted a strategy of grabbing on to other trees for support. These are called strangler trees and they end up killing the other tree and they both fall over together. Add to this a bizarre little native, the freshwater crab. What? We’re at least 5km from the ocean and there’s not a lake in sight. But with the water table so close these crabs have no problem getting the water they need by burrowing down to it.
Next we crossed the road into an almond grove that is home to a large colony of red colobus monkeys. These cute little guys have gotten quite used to people staring at them so they’ll get very close to you as they snack on fresh almond leaves. Watching them jump from limb to limb and swing from tree to tree will make you wish you were a monkey too. And they get so close you want to reach out a grab one for a hug if it weren’t for the many diseases you can get from simply touching a monkey. My folks always told me not to touch the monkeys. Sorry.
Next part of the walk was on a boardwalk through a mangrove forest. A mangrove forest is basically a swamp where trees are growing, in this particular forest, in brackish water. Brackish water is half salt, half fresh water. This mangrove happens to be a tidal flat so, although it was low tide when we walked through, at high tide the boardwalk is often underwater.

(Author’s note: I’m struggling here to describe every strange detail when a few photos would save a lot of explaining. I’m uploading this entry on a friends high quality connection instead of my usual slow one. Hopefully this means I’ll get a few photos up.)

Just two days left here and feeling like we’ve grabbed a huge bite out of the place. We woke up feeling great and looking forward to the beaches of the southeast coast. It’s not surprising then, in hindsight, that something unexpected should happen. Well, we knew it could happen but were wishing it wouldn’t. About 4km before we reached the nearest petrol station we ran out of gas. It was 10 a.m. and the sun was just getting cooking. It was time to get off and push. I have to say, if I’m going to run out of gas at a place of my choosing it would be on Zanzibar at anytime of day. Everyone we passed wanted to know what the problem was and if they could help. Unfortunately there’s only one solution to no gas. We soaked ourselves in sweat doing it but we did get gas and dried ourselves off doing 40km per hour to the next beach. Just part of the adventure.

So that was Zanzibar. Back at the compound in Mbarara today the first lady, Janet Museveni is visiting to give us a speech. I think I saw her convoy go by a little while ago and now the place is crawling with soldiers. Maybe I’ll go try to look over the fence and get a peek. Talk at you later!

More Time In The Field

The following is an account of happenings from the month of February. Sorry for the delay in putting up posts but Amber and I have been away or have had visitors or both so we've been very busy. We recently took a trip to Zanzibar so be looking for a post on that here very soon. I promise. Until then...

More Notes on the Field.

The past few days I’ve been working for Amber helping to enroll participants in her study. Amber, her 2 research assistants Judith and Sharon, and I have been hiking all over the beautiful Ugandan countryside knocking on doors and enrolling some very friendly and cooperative people. So far we’ve enrolled some 500 people. We don’t usually get close enough to the house to knock on the door before they see us coming. They usually see us or word comes down the pipe that we are in the neighborhood. It feels a lot like trick or treating to me. We stand out not only because we are strangers to the villages but because of our white skin and foreign clothes. Add to that the equipment we are carrying to measure the participants’ body mass index and it feels a lot like wearing a costume. The people we have met are so incredibly nice. When we ask for directions we usually get a guide to go with us, usually a young kid. Sometimes the kid ends up taking us to all of our households for the day, hiking through some grueling terrain up and over ridges and down into valleys inaccessible by car. For the locals a walk like this is no problem, often doing it in oversized worn out flip flops or even their bare feet. We often draw a good sized crowd usually made up of 90% children. They always say, “How are you’” hoping for the customary, “I am fine ,” response. They’ll repeat it many, many times. So many times that you get tired and just can’t say “I am fine” anymore. It’s fun to see their shock when you ask, “How is your day?” in their language. They usually gasp and say something to the effect of, “the muzungu knows our language!” Then you have to say, “just a little” and they laugh again.

One day as we were coming back to the car to take our lunch break we found a baby goat hanging out around it. A kid. It was timid and kept crawling under the car to hide from me so I tried to ignore it. We sat in the shade under a tree and the kid eventually came and sat with us. How cute. After we had our break we loaded into the car to drive to our next house and the goat started running after us. I don’t know what it wanted. One theory Judith had was that it thought it’s mother was inside the car. This persistant kid chased us for the better part of a mile, yelling and screaming all the way. At one point it managed to get in front of us, trying to force us to stop. Eventually we got to the trading center and the goat got distracted by a small herd of cows so we managed to escape. I have a feeling some little boy got a whipping that night when he brought the goats home for the night less one kid. It’s usually the young boys chore to take the goats out to graze for the day. Not while they’re in school of course. Some kids are put in charge of the calves as a form of training for the future job of taking care of the cows and for the calves future job of being an obedient cow.

While Judith and Sharon are introducing the project to each household I have time to look around. Everywhere we turn there is something new to see. White people don’t go to the places we are going to generally and, for some of the kids, we are the first white people they’ve ever seen. Understanding that helps to understand any strange behavior we experience. At one house a teenage boy is dancing to the reggae beat on his transistor radio while staring at me blankly. But what is he doing? Does he want to impress me with his moves or his tunes? Is this some form of intimidation? All I can do is try to act normal. In hindsight maybe I should have joined him.
Once a man walked by carrying a cow leg, hoof and skin still attached, and threw it down in the grass in the neighbors yard. Right behind him was another man carrying the rear legs of the cow, one on either end of a large stick, over his shoulder. As a small crowd formed around them they set to butchering the legs with machetes. When we finished with that house Judith asked what happened to the cow. It turns out the cow was killed by a leopard nearby!


Getting a close up look at how people live is forever interesting. There are many different sizes and shapes to their houses but most fall into three categories. The first category I would describe as the traditional “nice” Ugandan house. It is round in shape with a mud floor, often covered in goat skins or grass mats, mud walls and a grass thatch, reed, or banana fiber roof. These houses are generally separated into three rooms by mud walls. The walls however don’t extend to the ceiling, they generally end at the same height as the outer walls. The roof, being vaulted, is usually a good 5 or 6 feet higher than the top of the walls making privacy nonexistent. With a typical family size of 10 or more kids I’m pretty sure the oldest kids are well aware of sex pretty early in their lives. The door on these houses is usually a standard looking solid wood door with a deadbolt on the inside and a latch for a padlock on the outside. And the windows, called ventilators by the locals, are like a porthole on a ship, small and round. Typically one would remove their shoes, or gumboots, before entering the house. Despite the floor being mud Ugandans are concerned about cleanliness. Where the ceiling meets the top of the exterior wall there is a space to let in air. This creates a natural convection current which keeps the house cool. It also serves as a great spot to store extra shoes.

The second type of house we often see is constructed with a grid of sticks and mud. Large branches are stuck in the ground vertically along wall lines and smaller sticks are tied to them horizontally every 6 inches or more. This forms a structure to hold packed mud while it dries. The sticks eventually rot away but the mud keeps its shape. Sometimes you’ll see where the rain splashing off the ground has eroded a hole in the wall or the sticks have long rotted away. In these circumstances one simply packs some fresh mud into the hole effectively patching it for another season or two. I’ve seen these houses with any of the types of roof discussed above as well as corrugated sheet metal roofs. I like both of these styles of house. They are cheaply built using local materials and are 100% biodegradable. Even the sheet metal will eventually turn onto dust. Although the floor is uneven and the walls not straight or plumb, the houses have a natural, calming feel to them.

At our first few houses I noticed a lot of chickens hanging out in these detached huts and I mistook them for chicken coops. It took three or four house visits to realize they were actually kitchens. Cooking is commonly done here with charcoal or wood fuel. You can imagine how messy this can be. I’m guessing, but this must be the reason for the detached kitchen almost every house we visited has. The detached kitchens I saw were usually a smaller version of the round mud house. With the fire out of the house it can be kept going all day and night without risk of burning your house down and without turning all the walls, and your belongings, black with soot. Amber and I both grew up with kitchens full of chicken paraphernalia so it doesn’t seem strange at all but rather convenient. When you need an egg or two or are planning to have chicken for dinner you need not travel far.

The third commonly seen house is what Ugandans regard as a “nice” house. Picture an English cottage but with the Ugandan countryside in the periphery and you’ll know what one looks like. These cottages are constructed of a concrete floor and walls and have glass windows and doors, and a sheet metal roof. I saw many houses like this way up on hillsides overlooking the vast, scrubby countryside where no vehicle could venture to crawl. The yards of concrete, the steel bars and the metal sheets were brought to these beautiful perches, by hand. I was never invited in past the main room so I couldn’t say what the house is like past there but the furnishings we saw were generally similar to what you might expect in a house where you are. There’s a couch, a coffee table and a couple of chairs in the middle of the main room. In one corner there is always the milk cabinet. As I’ve mentioned in the past, this is cow country and the people here are way into their milk. I would even go so far to say that milk is their biggest source of, well, of everything their body needs. Matoke, the common staple, is cheap and readily available but it doesn’t offer much but a few carbohydrates. Milk gives them many nutrients and the fat they need to burn while they’re working in the fields on the matoke plantations are grazing cows. I’m pretty sure they drink more milk than water.

There has been no end to the new on these days in the field. What I’ve put forth here is but a small sampling of the most interesting. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to walk with and amongst these people in this beautiful land. I can assure you that along with these writings I am producing tons of photos, videos, paintings, and songs to capture every thing I can of our experiences. I’d love to share them here but the rate at which information moves on the interweb here wouldn’t catch a slug. They will just have to wait until next we meet. I will however have much more to write about so I’ll see you next blog.

Valentine. Be my little Valentine.

Shortly after arriving in Mbarara I was introduced to an accountant at the University. He had heard that a muzungu musician was coming to town and was curious about what I might want to do while staying here. At the time I didn’t have an answer for him other than to enjoy not having to work constantly. Over time it has been shown to me that Ugandans love country music. It’s on the jukebox at the bar. It’s being played on the stereos for sale in the department stores in Kampala. There are country music radio stations to listen to. You can buy Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton cd’s at the music stalls in the market. Amber and I both realized at the same time that a country band would be a popular thing in Uganda. So I approached our accountant friend for advice on the matter. What he recommended for me was to go to the big hotel in town and try to setup a gig. If they are willing to pay for a country band then he would provide me with the musicians and instruments I needed to have a country band. It goes against my better judgement to try to sell a product before knowing exactly what the quality of the product is. And that is what I told him. His explanation was that the musicians will want to be paid and want rides and this and that from the start so it would be better to have the income first so I’m not investing in something that may not pan out. Ok, I understand that. It makes sense I suppose so I’ll trust him on this one. After all he has much more experience than I in promoting music in Uganda. His wife is a successful musician playing gigs all over the country.

Last Tuesday I approached the hotel with my proposal, to provide some light country music during dinner one night a week. Then something unexpected happened. They wanted my band to perform the following Saturday during their special Valentines day dinner program. I had to, embarrassingly, tell them that the band was not quite ready. But it’s hard for me to turn down an opportunity to play music to an audience so I offered to play solo. After a short conversation about the details of the gig we agreed that I would play this Saturday for about 40 minutes as an audition for later gigs with the full band. I went home excited but a little nervous since my repatoire did not include many love songs at the time. A few hours later the hotle called me back. “Can you bring us a sample of your music?” Doh! I don’t’ have a cd of my own and I can’t give them the very poor quality examples of my various bands playing at various weddings where the sound of the crowd is in the foreground and the sound of the band way in the back. I told them I would bring it at the end of the day. This bought me some time to learn a few love songs and record them on my laptop, albeit it only bought me about two hours. I pulled it off however and heard from them the next day that everything was good and they were excited to add me to the program.

On Wednesday as I was running an errand I ran into some friends in town. They had heard about the gig. ‘How?”, I had to ask. “They’re announcing it on the radio”. “What?” I went home and tuned in. Sure enough after about 15 minutes of listening there was the announcement that Dean Patrick Luce from America will be providing country music for the special Valentines Day dinner at the Lakeview Hotel Resort. Ironically they pronounced my name perfectly without being taught. That never happens in America. I didn’t know I would be that much of a draw though. I should have negotiated for more pay. Dang! This was pressure. I had to shine. I went to work learning love songs. If I was a hit they might want me to play for longer. By Saturday I had worked up 9 songs, mostly by Willie Nelson. I shined my boots and ironed my shirt and showed up to the gig on time. It turned out to be way too early. I was there before the PA had even arrived let alone been setup. In typical Ugandan fashion (sorry Uganda but you’ve built a reputation) things were running way behind schedule. I waited for two hours before sound check. No biggie. I started to form in my head witty things to say to introduce myself and to use in between songs. Then I was introduced to the MC. Oh great, someone is going to introduce me. That’s always nice. We work out a plan. Dinner is served and as people are eating I am introduced. I play one song and the MC comes up, “play three more songs.” Ok. Um. I just told you I could play for 40 minutes or so. I took this to mean play three back to back without talking in between. No problem. After two songs I’m interrupted by the MC again. I don’t think he’s comfortable with me talking. He neglected to explain the program to me. Instead of playing a full set of tunes like one would where I’m from, they had me play a couple of tunes, then the DJ played a few, then there was the photo of the contest winners (what contest? I didn’t know about a contest.) then there was a performance by another musician from Mbarara, and then me again, and then more contests, and so on. All in all it was a good experience, a little strange and off balancing, but good. I did receive many compliments, enough to feel good about the performance. I’m still trying to decide if I’ll do it again. By the way, I only played 5 songs.

Incidentally the other musician that performed did so in typical Ugandan fashion. She was a singer and didn’t have a band, just a CD. When you go to see a performance here it’s often of someone singing to their own CD like karaoke but with the original vocals present as well. They call it live music but it’s not what I would call live music. It’s not live music it’s recorded music with someone singing with it. I think this is due to the fact that instruments are expensive and most people can’t afford them let alone the lessons it takes to learn to play them. This makes someone with musical skills and instruments to show them a valuable commodity, something to keep in mind for the next time I negotiate a gig.

Welcome to Our Kitchen

Our apartment here in Mbarara is really nice and comfortable. We have much more space than we did in Seattle. We even have rooms with doors that we can shut in case one of us needs to concentrate on something and one of us wants to watch a movie or listen to music. The building itself is built of concrete and brick and has some very large overhangs to keep the sun from getting in. It never gets unbearably hot inside even on the hottest of days. But enough about the whole apartment. This time I’d like to invite you to spend a few minutes with me in one of the most popular rooms in the place. Welcome to Dean and Amber’s kitchen.
Our little town has a few restaurants and bars to go to when one doesn’t want to cook but they all offer a very similar selection. You can imagine that being vegetarian here is limiting just like it is most places so Amber and I, both having decent cooking skills, usually eat at home. Our kitchen is about twice as big as the last kitchen we had in Seattle. We can actually both work in there at the same time, a huge plus since we spend a lot of time there. The main workstation is on the left side. We have about 5 feet of counter space and a large upper cabinet above it. Underneath the upper cabinet we’ve hung our utensils for quick access. The countertop is made of concrete. Amber bought some plastic to cover it just before I arrived for easy cleaning. Next to the counter sits the stove, a cute little electric baby with 4 burners and an oven Only three of the burners work and we don’t dare touch the dials because this often causes them to go out. The oven gets good and hot though and has been working quite well for baking bread and pizzas. There’s nothing quite like the comfort given from a warm piece of your own handmade bread with butter. We’re lucky, some of our neighbors’ ovens don’t work at all and some of them are unable to turn the oven off so every time they turn on the burner to cook they have the oven going full blast too.
Over on the right side we have a sink with a built in drainboard and the fridge. The sink has a small electric water heater over it for hot water. It definitely gets the water hot enough. It’ll burn you if you’re not careful. It took a little experimenting but we’ve got it adjusted so that it’s hot enough to cut the grease, but not so hot it hurts. The fridge is a cute little box sitting opposite and complementing the stove. There’s an icebox in the top, which holds the ice trays we bought on a recent trip to Kampala. It took three days for the water to turn to ice but it’s good to go now. We had to rig the door shelves so they would keep the contents in place when opening and closing the door. I bought some twine in town and Amber weaved 2 straps that I then tied on to the screws in the door. Good as new and now we’ve increased the capacity of the fridge by a lot. It’s also comforting to open the refrigerator at home and find it fully stocked with plenty to choose from. On the floor between the sink and the fridge is where we setup D.O.G.’s food and water dishes. One recent morning I noticed him go for breakfast and quickly shake his head and run off in disgust. Upon inspection I found his food totally inundated with ants. To solve this problem we put a ring of coffee grounds around his bowl and a line of coffee grounds across the front door where they were coming in. The ants won’t climb over them. It took a few days, but they eventually left. Also between the sink and the fridge is the customary window with a view of the walkway and our garden. I brought some seeds with me at Amber’s request and we finally managed to get them planted about 2 weeks ago. Things grow pretty fast here and we’re getting pretty excited at the prospect of fresh baby greens and basil, chives, rosemary, and parsley. (And I think there are more seeds on the way. Thanks Erika!). According to the book A Pattern Language by Christopher Alexander, a vegetable garden is not a hobby, it is a fundamental part of human life. In an economic state such as ours (globally speaking) it has become increasingly necessary for people to be self-sufficient. In a world such as this it becomes as natural to have your own vegetables as it is to have your own air. Growing your own food is rewarding yourself for being good. I have to admit, though, that Amber is the one keeping up with the garden. All I did was buy the pots and fill them with dirt.
The water here is not safe to drink straight from the tap. Boiling it is enough to kill the harmful bacteria but we go one step further and filter it as well. This is a frequent operation in our kitchen. Every couple of days we need to fill our 2 pots with water and take turns boiling them on the one burner hot enough to boil that much water. After they cool we then pump them, by hand, through Ambers filter she’s had for ten years and taken to Africa 4 times now. (New filter in the mail thanks to Dad and Edda). We keep a small collection of water bottles in a basket on top of the fridge right next to the basket of mangos, tomatoes and potatoes. It’s a bit of a workout but it only takes about 15 minutes to fill all of our water bottles.
One thing I’ve been filling my Thursdays with is a small business I started a couple of weeks ago. It’s called Deano’s Pizzeria! Amber helped me with designing the menu. I’ve had to get creative with available ingredients in order to provide a truly authentic and at the same time unique pizza. I make my own sundried tomatoes in the oven for example. And my roasted potato and roasted garlic pizza is an homage to a pizzeria I used to go to in Belltown in Seattle called World Pizza (r.i.p.). I usually end up making between 10 and 15 pizzas each Thursday so I’d say it’s a success. For those of us that have been here for a while it’s nice to have a meal that reminds you of home once in a while. And for those people who are here for only a week or two it’s hardly worth it to them to fill the fridge with groceries. I get my orders on Wednesday so I know how much to prep for and I spend most of the day Thursday shopping and making pizza. And on Friday we get to enjoy the leftovers. I’m saving all of the profits to go towards accommodations in Zanzibar in March. We are planning a trip there with our friend Todd, who’s coming from Seattle, and our friends Sarah and Steve who are also living in Uganda up in Kibale National Park.
So that’s our cute little kitchen. I hope you enjoyed it. I’ve been enjoying your comments so keep them up. I’m sorry I can’t respond to them all. The internet is darn slow. And there just ain’t no speeding it up from here.

DVD review

Titanic Battle parts 1 and 2 – A Sequel to Prince Of My Heart

I finally worked up the nerve to ask our regular DVD rental store clerk for a recommendation on a Nigerian flick (commonly known as Nollywood) After a brief chuckle the clerk handed me one saying, “You watch this one”. I could have asked why he chose it but I didn’t. The clerk could have asked me what I like in a movie but he did not. I decided to take his recommendation first and to ask questions later. On my way home I noticed that the movie is a sequel. I think my first question will be why he didn’t want me to see the first part of the story.

It took a few days but Amber and I finally worked up the courage to put the movie in and give it a try. We’ve seen a few bits and pieces of these films on television in restaurants enough to know that these films are hard to sit through. They often have long segues between scenes where you are forced to see, for the twentieth time, the same clip of Lagos at rush hour and the same cars going over the same bridge, or a close up of the same ship in the harbor and then a pan out to the rest of the city’s skyline. During these segues there will be playing a bit of music. The same bit of music you’ve been hearing the whole way through the movie. It sounds like something that came already automated on a keyboard from Taiwan. No offense Taiwan, it’s just a reflection of the kind of budget the movie is working with. To clarify, these are low budget movies. The acting is amateur, the music is cheap, the footage is shot with a handheld digital camera, you get the feeling there is no script from time to time. So you can imagine why it took a while to work up the courage to watch one. It’s not that Amber and I are getting bored either. I feel pretty strongly about trying it before knocking it this time. I’m trying to understand the culture

After about twenty minutes of “The Story So Far” we’re feeling pretty well up to speed and I realize why we didn’t need to rent “The Prince Of My Heart”, the movie officially starts. Here is the outline. A young student named Collins played by Emeka Ike is caught between two rival girls. One girl, Evelyn played by Chika Ike (related?) is the daughter of a senator and the other, Stacy played by Omotola Jolade, is the daughter of the President of the Senate. Both are wealthy and one has it out for the other because of some beef between their fathers. They shower Collins with gifts and attention until one day while Collins and Evelyn are hanging out in the house that Stacy bought for Collins, Stacy walks in disgusted to find Evelyn in her house. Collins took off and, to his credit, warned Evelyn that Stacy was coming but she wasn’t budging. After a few harsh words a fight breaks out wherein Evelyn breaks a bottle for a weapon but Stacy clobbers her with a stool. The chapter ends with scenes of the recovery of Evelyn. She shows her strength by enduring a painful bandage removal process followed by some fancy jogging work and calisthenics on the roadside.

Part two begins with Collins up to his old shenanigans again. (That is what he calls them) This time it’s with his best friends little sister. He’s living in a part of town that is apparently unknown to Evelyn and Stacy because they seem to have lost track of him. They also seem to still be pissed about the whole thing. After a rather angry speech by Collins best friend, Charles, to his little sister, Benny, we find Collins and her in a hotel laughing and getting on rather well. Then they move to the bar. Collins explains that he is just hanging around until he writes his last paper for school and then he’s heading back home. She asks him about the other women. He explains he’s under pressure and can’t put up with their shenanigans. Yes, he uses the word “shenanigans”. Benny goes to the bathroom or something and comes back into the wrong room. The room where Evelyn is hanging out with her friends! And Stacy is staying in this hotel too! What are the odds? Collins and Benny get in a taxi and leave to go to Charles’s house. Stacy and her posse also get into a fluorescent green VW Jetta and go to interrogate Charles. Luckily Stacy and crew are much faster than Collins because they have enough time to get their info and leave before Collins shows up. I’d be mad at that taxi driver if I were Collins. Then it becomes apparent that Collins has a paper due so he sets to doing homework while Charles and Benny yell “What’s wrong with you?” The next scene is of a classroom getting ready for an exam. I assume this is Collins’s class but he’s not there. Collins is missing his exam to study! What? I’m lost. Sometimes it’s hard to hear what the actors are saying not only due to their accents but also because the dialog is often quieter than the music or the traffic on the street for that matter. Oh, I see. Collins is missing his exam because Stacy and her posse have captured him, Charles, and his little sister and are holding them hostage. It seems that Stacy is out to punish them and Stacy has guns. They take Benny from the room and as she screams Charles and Collins get into a fight. “Don’t take it too far man. You’ll regret it Charles.” “That’s my sister screaming, man. It’s because of you, man. You’ve taken it too far, man.” The next scene Stacy explains that Collins must marry her in order to get her freedom from her father. She must be married in order to get out of his tutelage or something. But Collins won’t marry her against his wish. Stacy loads them all into her car and drives to a dark street to try to convince Collins again. This is the big climax where Evelyn shows up with the cops to try to save Collins and his friends. I guess she really cared about him after all. In the end things don’t bode well for Stacy as the police shoots her because she wouldn’t drop her gun. Everyone leaves with Evelyn except for Collins who is taken in by the cops for questioning. The End

I realize that this review wouldn’t fit on the back of a DVD case. I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t bored you. I could have just written out the lyrics to the song played during the credits for it seems to be composed just for this movie. The lyrics describe the story perfectly. Jealously, Bitterness and hatred is what you get at the end. When you play love like a game and it’s for a selfish gain. Oh, oh, oh. His life is in danger for he has kindled her anger. She wants nothing more than to be his wife. Huh? That Stacy is totally nuts.