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.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Friday, February 27, 2009
Valentine. Be my little Valentine.
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.
Monday, February 9, 2009
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.
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.
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.
The Internet Shuffle
It's been a month since my last post! So sorry to leave you hanging. The internet has once again become a difficult force to deal with here. I'm not confident I'll be able to post photos anymore but I'll keep trying. Stay tuned!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Friendly, Progressive, Rwanda
The internet is not cooperating with me so I'll have to add photos to this post later. Stay tuned.
On a Friday morning, 6:30 a.m. Amber and I, along with our neighbor and friend Lynn went down to the gas station to catch a bus to Kigale, the capitol of Rwanda. The plan was to meet Lynn’s husband Danny there, along with his two friends (one from Canada, one from Rwanda, a married couple), for a weekend of luxury and exploration. There is a proper bus station in Mbarara but it seems that most buses don’t bother to stop there since it’s a little off the main road and very congested. All the buses going to Kigale are coming from Kampala and unless you want to pay for a ticket starting in Kampala you won’t know if there’s a seat available until you talk to the agent in Mbarara, who then calls the bus driver en route to see if it’s full or not. It doesn’t really matter if it’s full though because often people get off mid route. The bus drivers don’t really keep track of who’s going where. That responsibility lies on the passenger. So when the bus pulls into the gas station in Mbarara to fuel up and let the people go to the bathroom we find out that it’s full and it’s going to stay that way for the rest of the journey. The agent is willing to sell us a ticket though, providing we are willing to stand in the aisle. Fortunately there are several bus companies so we decide to wait for the next one.
7:30 a.m. The three of us are sitting comfortably on a coach to Kigale, on the bonnet which is a padded engine cover at the front of the bus between the drivers seat and the opposite row of seats, I’m facing backwards and sitting next to a nun who is holding a giant toy helicopter. I still manage to twist around enough to get look at the gorgeous scenery during the 5 hour trip. It’s incredible to imagine how long this land has been walked by humans. The first humans ever lived in these hills and valleys. My mind folds over on itself trying to grasp it all. Occasionally you can see the remnants of a terraced garden stepping down the hillside. There are also some very impressive churches and mosques looming over the valley from the top of a hill. I’ve been reading Alan Mooreheads’ “The White Nile” and learning a lot about the European exploration of this part of the globe. Only 150 years ago this land wasn’t on any map. It was a total mystery what existed here. Slave trading ended just over 100 years ago, about 40 years after the end of the American civil war.
12:30 p.m. After a one hour break at the border where we went through customs twice, once for leaving Uganda and once for entering Rwanda, during which the entire bus was emptied out and luggage searched for, of all things, plastic bags, we’re rolling through Kigale in a car with Danny and his two friends, Virgil and Elisa. Rwanda has banned the use of plastic bags throughout the country and seems to be more intolerant of them than anything else. It’s one of the many signs of progression I saw in Rwanda. The differences between Rwanda and Uganda are obvious the moment you cross the border. It’s very clean (they had their “national service day” the previous Saturday where everything is closed in order to clean the streets and sidewalks), the roads are being maintained (yeah there were potholes but there were road crews out fixing them) and there was very clear signage throughout, lots of nice cars in the city and people appeared to be fairly well off (although there were beggars too). I didn’t get to learn much about it but they have a managed healthcare system that costs about 1 dollar to buy into. Overall Kigale has a very “European” feel to it. After a short discussion over lattes (our first decent cup of coffee since leaving the U.S.) about where we want to eat for dinner, we head to our hotel for a nap.
7:00 p.m. We’re at the New Cactus Restaurant dining on wood fired pizza and draft beer (insert Homer Simpson moan) but we’re trying to hurry to meet Virgil and Elisa at the soccer stadium for a concert. Virgil works at the Rwandan embassy in Beijing. With his job come a lot of high-powered connections. Fortunately for us we are in the position of benefiting from his connections this weekend. Virgil gets us all into this sold out performance of musicians from all over Africa and the U.S. for free! The setup is a little strange. The Minister of Sports didn’t want the grass on the pitch ruined so no one was allowed to go on it. (A pitch is the proper name for a soccer field). The stage was on one side of the stadium at midfield and everyone sat in the bleachers all the way around the outside. We were quite far from the stage but the performers all found ways to connect with the crowd. Many of them came out into the center of the field with a wireless microphone and danced. I’ll name some of the performers here but I won’t get the spelling right. Let’s see there was Koffi from Ghana, Baby Cool from Uganda, some dude from Burundi, another dude from Rwanda, and the headliner (from the U.S.) was Sean Paul. I’ve never heard of Sean Paul but I saw just as many t shirts for him as I saw for Eminem during our stay in Rwandaso I guess that says something. Great night!
9:00 a.m.ish More lattes and a croissant (!! such things are not available in Mbarara) from a starbucksy coffee shop called Bourbon Coffee Co. Then it’s off to the genocide memorial for some very heavy sightseeing. This is the main attraction for a first time in Kigale. It’s located within a 5,000Rwf (this is Rwandan francs. The rate is .555 this weekend, so 5,000Rwf is basically $2.50) taxi ride of the center of town and admission to the memorial is free. It’s built on the burial site of 250,000 people. They’re not sure how many were killed in the genocide in 94 but they say it’s around 1 million. The memorial is ¼ about genocides throughout history, ¼ memorial for the children killed in 94’, and ½ about the Rwandan genocide during which the world in general turned their backs for 90 days while Hutu’s ran around and killed as many Tutsi’s as possible, mostly with machete’s. It’s a very well done memorial and I don’t think a visit to Kigale would be complete without a visit to it. But man! That was hard to see. It has just recently been reported that the Rwandan military is supporting the Tutsi rebels cause in the Congo. These are Tutsi’s, who fled Rwanda for their lives, killing as many Hutu’s as they can in a “preemptive strike” type defense. The scars from the genocide of 94’ may never heal.
The rest of the stay we spent exploring, having lunch, and shopping for handicrafts at an artists cooperative. We also witness a game of boda-boda polo. I’m not sure but it looks like a group of muzungus hired a bunch of bodas for this. It looks like a good way to get hurt if you ask me. Amber and I found a great bookstore. Half of the books are in French and half are in English but we didn’t have trouble finding lots we’d like to read. Books are an important part of life here in Africa, and Amber and I are swallowing them as fast as we can. We also picked up some art supplies for more paintings and drawings by yours truly. The bus ride home was easy and uneventful. The best part was it dropped us off practically right on our doorstep. I heart Kigale!
On a Friday morning, 6:30 a.m. Amber and I, along with our neighbor and friend Lynn went down to the gas station to catch a bus to Kigale, the capitol of Rwanda. The plan was to meet Lynn’s husband Danny there, along with his two friends (one from Canada, one from Rwanda, a married couple), for a weekend of luxury and exploration. There is a proper bus station in Mbarara but it seems that most buses don’t bother to stop there since it’s a little off the main road and very congested. All the buses going to Kigale are coming from Kampala and unless you want to pay for a ticket starting in Kampala you won’t know if there’s a seat available until you talk to the agent in Mbarara, who then calls the bus driver en route to see if it’s full or not. It doesn’t really matter if it’s full though because often people get off mid route. The bus drivers don’t really keep track of who’s going where. That responsibility lies on the passenger. So when the bus pulls into the gas station in Mbarara to fuel up and let the people go to the bathroom we find out that it’s full and it’s going to stay that way for the rest of the journey. The agent is willing to sell us a ticket though, providing we are willing to stand in the aisle. Fortunately there are several bus companies so we decide to wait for the next one.
7:30 a.m. The three of us are sitting comfortably on a coach to Kigale, on the bonnet which is a padded engine cover at the front of the bus between the drivers seat and the opposite row of seats, I’m facing backwards and sitting next to a nun who is holding a giant toy helicopter. I still manage to twist around enough to get look at the gorgeous scenery during the 5 hour trip. It’s incredible to imagine how long this land has been walked by humans. The first humans ever lived in these hills and valleys. My mind folds over on itself trying to grasp it all. Occasionally you can see the remnants of a terraced garden stepping down the hillside. There are also some very impressive churches and mosques looming over the valley from the top of a hill. I’ve been reading Alan Mooreheads’ “The White Nile” and learning a lot about the European exploration of this part of the globe. Only 150 years ago this land wasn’t on any map. It was a total mystery what existed here. Slave trading ended just over 100 years ago, about 40 years after the end of the American civil war.
12:30 p.m. After a one hour break at the border where we went through customs twice, once for leaving Uganda and once for entering Rwanda, during which the entire bus was emptied out and luggage searched for, of all things, plastic bags, we’re rolling through Kigale in a car with Danny and his two friends, Virgil and Elisa. Rwanda has banned the use of plastic bags throughout the country and seems to be more intolerant of them than anything else. It’s one of the many signs of progression I saw in Rwanda. The differences between Rwanda and Uganda are obvious the moment you cross the border. It’s very clean (they had their “national service day” the previous Saturday where everything is closed in order to clean the streets and sidewalks), the roads are being maintained (yeah there were potholes but there were road crews out fixing them) and there was very clear signage throughout, lots of nice cars in the city and people appeared to be fairly well off (although there were beggars too). I didn’t get to learn much about it but they have a managed healthcare system that costs about 1 dollar to buy into. Overall Kigale has a very “European” feel to it. After a short discussion over lattes (our first decent cup of coffee since leaving the U.S.) about where we want to eat for dinner, we head to our hotel for a nap.
7:00 p.m. We’re at the New Cactus Restaurant dining on wood fired pizza and draft beer (insert Homer Simpson moan) but we’re trying to hurry to meet Virgil and Elisa at the soccer stadium for a concert. Virgil works at the Rwandan embassy in Beijing. With his job come a lot of high-powered connections. Fortunately for us we are in the position of benefiting from his connections this weekend. Virgil gets us all into this sold out performance of musicians from all over Africa and the U.S. for free! The setup is a little strange. The Minister of Sports didn’t want the grass on the pitch ruined so no one was allowed to go on it. (A pitch is the proper name for a soccer field). The stage was on one side of the stadium at midfield and everyone sat in the bleachers all the way around the outside. We were quite far from the stage but the performers all found ways to connect with the crowd. Many of them came out into the center of the field with a wireless microphone and danced. I’ll name some of the performers here but I won’t get the spelling right. Let’s see there was Koffi from Ghana, Baby Cool from Uganda, some dude from Burundi, another dude from Rwanda, and the headliner (from the U.S.) was Sean Paul. I’ve never heard of Sean Paul but I saw just as many t shirts for him as I saw for Eminem during our stay in Rwandaso I guess that says something. Great night!
9:00 a.m.ish More lattes and a croissant (!! such things are not available in Mbarara) from a starbucksy coffee shop called Bourbon Coffee Co. Then it’s off to the genocide memorial for some very heavy sightseeing. This is the main attraction for a first time in Kigale. It’s located within a 5,000Rwf (this is Rwandan francs. The rate is .555 this weekend, so 5,000Rwf is basically $2.50) taxi ride of the center of town and admission to the memorial is free. It’s built on the burial site of 250,000 people. They’re not sure how many were killed in the genocide in 94 but they say it’s around 1 million. The memorial is ¼ about genocides throughout history, ¼ memorial for the children killed in 94’, and ½ about the Rwandan genocide during which the world in general turned their backs for 90 days while Hutu’s ran around and killed as many Tutsi’s as possible, mostly with machete’s. It’s a very well done memorial and I don’t think a visit to Kigale would be complete without a visit to it. But man! That was hard to see. It has just recently been reported that the Rwandan military is supporting the Tutsi rebels cause in the Congo. These are Tutsi’s, who fled Rwanda for their lives, killing as many Hutu’s as they can in a “preemptive strike” type defense. The scars from the genocide of 94’ may never heal.
The rest of the stay we spent exploring, having lunch, and shopping for handicrafts at an artists cooperative. We also witness a game of boda-boda polo. I’m not sure but it looks like a group of muzungus hired a bunch of bodas for this. It looks like a good way to get hurt if you ask me. Amber and I found a great bookstore. Half of the books are in French and half are in English but we didn’t have trouble finding lots we’d like to read. Books are an important part of life here in Africa, and Amber and I are swallowing them as fast as we can. We also picked up some art supplies for more paintings and drawings by yours truly. The bus ride home was easy and uneventful. The best part was it dropped us off practically right on our doorstep. I heart Kigale!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
More Of The Day To Day
The longer my stay in Uganda, the harder it is for me to relate to you, the reader. Day to day living here is quite different than in the U.S. and I’ve become quite comfortable with the ins and outs of it. From time to time I’ll use a word or phrase that is quite common here but you may not be familiar with. I try to inform you of the meaning as we go along but lets review, shall we?
Muzungu = White skinned person but is also used to describe any foreigner including Asian and Indians. It’s just like honke or haole. Amber recently asked to learn the word for black skinned person (omwiraguzu) and now we get to give them a dose of what it feels like.
Boda-Boda = Scooter taxi. They are everywhere and really come in handy. I usually walk to town for groceries and take a boda back. This ride takes about 3 minutes and costs 500Ush (27 cents U.S.)
Matatu = Mini van bus or combi if you’ve been to Mexico.
I guess that’s it for now. There will be more later I’m sure.
Using A Cell Phones
It doesn’t take long to see that cell phone companies probably spend the most on advertising out of all businesses here. There is a lack of large franchise organizations in Uganda. There are no McD’s, no Burger Kings’, no Subway’s, no Borders or Barnes and Nobles, no Best Buy, no WalMart, no Starbucks, no KFC, nothing. But you could find yourself driving way out in the middle of nowhere, through neighborhood buildings half built of brick and half of mud and sticks, and see some shops painted head to toe with the colors and logo of one of the four or five cell providers operating in Uganda. It’s nice not to have phone poles and wires running every which way, interfering with the beautiful scenery. Cellphone promotions are the majority of billboard advertising too. One phone company has been clever enough, which I really appreciate, to put up the signs on the highway that tell you how far it is to the next major town.
Paying for airtime for your cell phone here is quite unique. You see, a lot of Ugandans don’t have a mailbox. Heck I’m not even sure they have an address given the system, or lack of a system, for demarcating property lines (bushes and rocks). Without a mailbox it would be hard to receive a bill for your cell phone plan so the cell phone company has setup a pay-as-you-go system. Upon arriving in Uganda one of the first errands Amber took me on was to get a SIM card for my phone. By the way, American cell phones work on a bandwidth that no one else in the world uses (Shocking!). I bought an unlocked quad band phone (a phone that can utilize four different frequencies and isn’t locked into any particular phone company) before I came. When you buy a SIM card you are essentially deciding which phone company you are going to use. We didn’t try to comparison shop but, from what I’ve heard from others, they’re all about the same price (3,000ush approx. which isequal to $1.63 as of this writing). After you get a SIM card in your phone you then purchase some airtime. This comes in the form of a scratch ticket much like the lottery. The ticket will have a number to dial and a small patch of scratchable grey area. You simply send a text message to the provider containing the number you’ve revealed and the credit is added to your phone accordingly. You can buy airtime in many different increments from 1,000Ush up to I don’t know how high. I think it’s a great system. It’s very easy and convenient.
There is no voicemail here, which may seem hugely inconvenient, but it’s not. People mainly use text messaging which works very similarly to voicemail (the message goes into your inbox to be read at your convenience). A text message will cost you between 3-9 cents U.S. depending on the time of day you send it and a phone call will cost between 10-20 cents per minute. So you can see the reason everyone sends texts. Another practice used here is to “flash” someone. This is to call someone and let it ring just long enough for them to see your name on their screen. This can be used in a number of applications. For example, you agree with someone ahead of time to meet somewhere when you flash him or her. Or you flash them to tell them you are on your way.
Watching A Movie
There are lots of DVD’s in Mbarara. They all have a slightly different selection but one thing they all have in common is they’re all bootlegs and they’re all in pretty bad shape. There have been many times when sitting down to enjoy a flick we’ve not been able to watch it due to the terrible amount of scratches on it. I’ve taken these discs back to the store and they usually let me take another free of charge. If you do manage to get one going, you’ll often find that the movie was recorded by someone sitting in a theater with a video camera. You can tell because eventually someone sitting in front has to get up, presumably to pee, and their head is blocking the screen. The first few times it’s really funny, especially when they come back to find their seat again, but eventually it becomes nostalgic of actually going to the movies. An advantage to bootlegs is that the selection at the store is quite current. You can rent movies here that are still in the theatre back home. We’ve mainly been renting television shows. It’s more bang for your buck since there can be 10 hours of tv show on one disk. We’ve watched a few seasons of Cold Case and ER, and now we’re working through Six Feet Under and The Wire. Something else they do at the DVD store is put several movies that relate onto one disk. We rented a quadruple feature of Leonardo DiCaprio flicks once. There is also a HUGE section of Nigerian cinema, called Nollywood, to pick from. I’ve seen some clips playing in the store while looking for something to rent and I couldn’t imagine sitting through a whole Nollywood movie. Not only are they worse than a Mexican soap opera, atrocious acting and inconsistent storylines full of superstitions and customs you’re not familiar with, but they’re often 4 hours long! But in the spirit of trying new things, next time I’m in the video store I will ask which Nollywood is the best and try to get through it. A full review will follow. Africans in general have different tastes when it comes to video entertainment. After football (soccer to you in America) the next most watched thing on tv is the African version of Big Brother. In their version the participants don’t do anything. There are no contests or challenges. They just sit in a room and annoy each other. And this show is on everyday!
Nose Picking
It is not uncommon to see people pick their nose in public here. It is socially acceptable to pick your nose in public. Since everyone picks their nose, you don’t have to admit it to me cause I already know you do, you may find it convenient. No more trying to hide it from the other drivers while waiting for the light to change. What’s the big deal? You have an itch or something poking you inside your nostril so go ahead and scratch it.
Grasshopper trap
Ingredients:
1 Big, Bright fluorescent light mounted approx. 10 feet off the ground.
1 Full sheet of corrugated metal roofing, 2’x8’
1 Bucket, as big as you can get
Place the bucket directly underneath the light. With the metal roofing bend one of the ends into a funnel. Place the funnel into the bucket, leaning the roofing up against whatever you have the light mounted to (whether it’s on a pole or on the side of a building). When night falls turn on the light. You will discover that the light attracts the bugs that grasshoppers feed on so in turn attracts grasshoppers. For some reason unknown to me the grasshoppers will jump into the metal roofing so hard that they will be stunned and fall right into the bucket. The small hole of the funnel is enough to keep the grasshoppers from escaping.
Fried Grasshoppers
As many grasshoppers you can eat
Enough frying oil to fill a pan to 1” deep
Peel the legs and wings off the live grasshoppers. Heat the frying oil in the pan. Fry the grasshoppers until golden. Allow to cool. Enjoy! Kinda’ shrimpy I’m told.
Muzungu = White skinned person but is also used to describe any foreigner including Asian and Indians. It’s just like honke or haole. Amber recently asked to learn the word for black skinned person (omwiraguzu) and now we get to give them a dose of what it feels like.
Boda-Boda = Scooter taxi. They are everywhere and really come in handy. I usually walk to town for groceries and take a boda back. This ride takes about 3 minutes and costs 500Ush (27 cents U.S.)
Matatu = Mini van bus or combi if you’ve been to Mexico.
I guess that’s it for now. There will be more later I’m sure.
Using A Cell Phones
It doesn’t take long to see that cell phone companies probably spend the most on advertising out of all businesses here. There is a lack of large franchise organizations in Uganda. There are no McD’s, no Burger Kings’, no Subway’s, no Borders or Barnes and Nobles, no Best Buy, no WalMart, no Starbucks, no KFC, nothing. But you could find yourself driving way out in the middle of nowhere, through neighborhood buildings half built of brick and half of mud and sticks, and see some shops painted head to toe with the colors and logo of one of the four or five cell providers operating in Uganda. It’s nice not to have phone poles and wires running every which way, interfering with the beautiful scenery. Cellphone promotions are the majority of billboard advertising too. One phone company has been clever enough, which I really appreciate, to put up the signs on the highway that tell you how far it is to the next major town.
Paying for airtime for your cell phone here is quite unique. You see, a lot of Ugandans don’t have a mailbox. Heck I’m not even sure they have an address given the system, or lack of a system, for demarcating property lines (bushes and rocks). Without a mailbox it would be hard to receive a bill for your cell phone plan so the cell phone company has setup a pay-as-you-go system. Upon arriving in Uganda one of the first errands Amber took me on was to get a SIM card for my phone. By the way, American cell phones work on a bandwidth that no one else in the world uses (Shocking!). I bought an unlocked quad band phone (a phone that can utilize four different frequencies and isn’t locked into any particular phone company) before I came. When you buy a SIM card you are essentially deciding which phone company you are going to use. We didn’t try to comparison shop but, from what I’ve heard from others, they’re all about the same price (3,000ush approx. which isequal to $1.63 as of this writing). After you get a SIM card in your phone you then purchase some airtime. This comes in the form of a scratch ticket much like the lottery. The ticket will have a number to dial and a small patch of scratchable grey area. You simply send a text message to the provider containing the number you’ve revealed and the credit is added to your phone accordingly. You can buy airtime in many different increments from 1,000Ush up to I don’t know how high. I think it’s a great system. It’s very easy and convenient.
There is no voicemail here, which may seem hugely inconvenient, but it’s not. People mainly use text messaging which works very similarly to voicemail (the message goes into your inbox to be read at your convenience). A text message will cost you between 3-9 cents U.S. depending on the time of day you send it and a phone call will cost between 10-20 cents per minute. So you can see the reason everyone sends texts. Another practice used here is to “flash” someone. This is to call someone and let it ring just long enough for them to see your name on their screen. This can be used in a number of applications. For example, you agree with someone ahead of time to meet somewhere when you flash him or her. Or you flash them to tell them you are on your way.
Watching A Movie
There are lots of DVD’s in Mbarara. They all have a slightly different selection but one thing they all have in common is they’re all bootlegs and they’re all in pretty bad shape. There have been many times when sitting down to enjoy a flick we’ve not been able to watch it due to the terrible amount of scratches on it. I’ve taken these discs back to the store and they usually let me take another free of charge. If you do manage to get one going, you’ll often find that the movie was recorded by someone sitting in a theater with a video camera. You can tell because eventually someone sitting in front has to get up, presumably to pee, and their head is blocking the screen. The first few times it’s really funny, especially when they come back to find their seat again, but eventually it becomes nostalgic of actually going to the movies. An advantage to bootlegs is that the selection at the store is quite current. You can rent movies here that are still in the theatre back home. We’ve mainly been renting television shows. It’s more bang for your buck since there can be 10 hours of tv show on one disk. We’ve watched a few seasons of Cold Case and ER, and now we’re working through Six Feet Under and The Wire. Something else they do at the DVD store is put several movies that relate onto one disk. We rented a quadruple feature of Leonardo DiCaprio flicks once. There is also a HUGE section of Nigerian cinema, called Nollywood, to pick from. I’ve seen some clips playing in the store while looking for something to rent and I couldn’t imagine sitting through a whole Nollywood movie. Not only are they worse than a Mexican soap opera, atrocious acting and inconsistent storylines full of superstitions and customs you’re not familiar with, but they’re often 4 hours long! But in the spirit of trying new things, next time I’m in the video store I will ask which Nollywood is the best and try to get through it. A full review will follow. Africans in general have different tastes when it comes to video entertainment. After football (soccer to you in America) the next most watched thing on tv is the African version of Big Brother. In their version the participants don’t do anything. There are no contests or challenges. They just sit in a room and annoy each other. And this show is on everyday!
Nose Picking
It is not uncommon to see people pick their nose in public here. It is socially acceptable to pick your nose in public. Since everyone picks their nose, you don’t have to admit it to me cause I already know you do, you may find it convenient. No more trying to hide it from the other drivers while waiting for the light to change. What’s the big deal? You have an itch or something poking you inside your nostril so go ahead and scratch it.
Grasshopper trap
Ingredients:
1 Big, Bright fluorescent light mounted approx. 10 feet off the ground.
1 Full sheet of corrugated metal roofing, 2’x8’
1 Bucket, as big as you can get
Place the bucket directly underneath the light. With the metal roofing bend one of the ends into a funnel. Place the funnel into the bucket, leaning the roofing up against whatever you have the light mounted to (whether it’s on a pole or on the side of a building). When night falls turn on the light. You will discover that the light attracts the bugs that grasshoppers feed on so in turn attracts grasshoppers. For some reason unknown to me the grasshoppers will jump into the metal roofing so hard that they will be stunned and fall right into the bucket. The small hole of the funnel is enough to keep the grasshoppers from escaping.
Fried Grasshoppers
As many grasshoppers you can eat
Enough frying oil to fill a pan to 1” deep
Peel the legs and wings off the live grasshoppers. Heat the frying oil in the pan. Fry the grasshoppers until golden. Allow to cool. Enjoy! Kinda’ shrimpy I’m told.
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