I got a camera!

Not much new here, same old sleepy times in Nkosi, work, read, eat, sleep. (Hmm, maybe I should start posting book reviews, since all I do for fun here is read!) Pretty boring. But I went to Kampala this weekend a bought a digicam! So now I can post some pics of the stuff I'm seeing! Below are a couple of shots I took last night while I was messing around, figuring out how it works.

Spoooky! 

Bird in a Tree 

Trees at dusk 

My favorite shady tree for reading under 

Nsubuga Guest House, where I live! 

Partying and Shopping in Kampala

Spent the weekend in Kampala. I’m quite pleased that I managed to navigate my way there on Saturday morning, and to get around ok for the most part. I took a boda to the road, then found a taxi (which is not a taxi but a minibus), who only overcharged me a little. Then a boda to the bank, where my bank card did actually work (I was quite worried about the possibility that I might not be able to access my Canadian accounts).

Kampala is hotter than Nkozi, and the air hangs in a heavy haze of exhaust and dust. In no time at all my shirt was dingy with the grime that flies around the back of the bodas.

I went to Garden city for some shopping, which is the rich and mostly white mall in Kampala. Culture shock or what! I couldn’t believe the selection or the prices, not to mention how many mzungus were there! I wanted to get a skirt, but the only one I found that I liked was 80,000! Way too much. But I got my legs sugared, way less painful and removes more hair then waxing, and only 10,000! Then wandering around the shops in the center of Kampala I bought a great new blouse, and managed to bargain it down to 10,000 from the original price of 15,000, I’m getting better at this!

I’m way more comfortable on the bodas since I decided that as a crazy mzungu woman I can get away with riding astride… its way easier to balance, no way would I ride one sidesaddle in Kampala! Its actually quite fun zipping in and out of traffic, and no problems with traffic jams cause the driver just goes in-between the jammed up cars.

I went to a party on Saturday night. Quite fun, once I got there! I had some sketchy directions texted to my cell phone so leaving the hostel I got into a special hire (which is like a taxi) to try and follow them… got lost down a dirt road and the special hire ran out of gas. Luckily right then I got a call from Dominick, a friend of a friend who was supposed to pick me up at the blue mango (hostel), but that hadn’t been communicated to me, hence being lost down a long, dark dirt road. Anyway, he explained how to get back and via a couple more calls we managed to find each other and I got driven to the party, where I met many lovely people and drank far too much wargi (a gin-like local brew).

Finally, I got some Pictures!

In the below posts I have some pictures sent to me by Paul, one of our visitors from the Netherlands. Thanks Paul!

This croc looks smaller in the picture. He is huge, and is rumoured to have eaten 80 people before his capture! 

Crocodiles piled into a concrete stall. 

A sign at Camp Croc, the crocodile farm. 

Hut in the village 

A neat tree with flowering bush 

Tables with thatched umbrellas where I like to sit and write 

flowers 

cool plant life 

This is the guest house where I eat my meals. 

Iced Mochas and Boda Bodas

Yesterday I walked to the AidChild Equator Café. It's about an hours walk, but the iced mochas are worth it. And all the money goes to orphans with AIDS. They have a great craft shop and some beautiful not too expensive paintings, if only shipping it back home wasn’t such a hassle!

Anyway, having walked all the way there, people screaming “mzungu” the whole way, I decided to take a boda boda back to campus. Now, Boda bodas are bikes that take passengers on the back. Some are pedal bikes, but most are motorized. I’ve been watching them for a while and thinking that they look like a lot of fun. And I’ve always wanted to ride a motorcycle, although these are small, more like a dirt bike.

Now in my fantasy of being on a motorcycle, it’s always either me alone with the open road, or me sitting on back my arms wrapped around a hunky guy in leather. Either way I’m riding astride. But all of the women I’ve seen on the bodas have been riding side-saddle, so that’s how I got on. And I didn’t think it would be a good idea to hold onto the driver, again, most people don’t, and I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea! Plus he’s defiantly not the guy in my fantasy.

So I’m balanced precariously on the back, one hand balancing my purse and purchases on my lap, the other behind me white-knuckled to the seat, holding on for dear life! (My hand was cramped for like an hour afterwards, and it was only a ten minute ride!)

I never want to get on another boda boda, but I guess I’ll have to get used to it, they are the main transportation between the campus and the main road. But next time I venture out I’m taking a backpack so I can hold on with both hands!

Mzungu

Here I am “Mzungu,” that is my African name. And the name of every other white person here. When I walk through the village children jump up and down screaming, “Mzungu! Mzungu!” Even adults will wave cheerily from their stoops, “Hi mzungu! How are you, mzungu?” In fact, the owner of one craft stall saw me and immediately grabbed some tourist t-shirts to show me which say mzungu on them. Like I need to advertise it, my pale skin shouts mzungu from miles away.

The inescapable fact is: I stand out here. I am a minority, a minority with power and privilege, but still. I can’t fade into the background or be anonymous. Even Father Max, who is educated in Europe, pointed this out, only half-jokingly saying when he was looking for Elizabeth and I in Kampala, “I was looking for the white lady.”

And people I haven’t met know who I am. I will meet people for the first time and they already know all about me, which department I work in, how long I’ve been here, that I go walking with the other mzungus, when I last went to the bathroom!

They don’t mean to be rude or make me uncomfortable. But they do.

Other ex-pats who’ve been here longer are more comfortable with the term. I asked an older Irish woman where I should go if I got sick, which hospitals are best, and she said, “You want a mzungu doctor? Go here or here.”

I guess I’ll get used to it.

Yup, I'm still here!

So here is what happened, the university is laying down fiber optic cable, which will make the internet faster once its up and running, but the dudes who are digging for it accidentally cut the wire in the ground that currently gives us internet access. So, my whole side of campus was cut off from the internet on Monday morning.

And then I had to go to Kampala on Wednesday, only got back late last night. I'll post more about Kampala later today, and I got some pictures as well from the Dutch guys who visited that I'll be putting up.

So stay tuned, I'll be back and posting up a storm after work. (Unless I decide to go to Kampala for the weekend, I could really do with some shopping and perhaps a movie.)

For my Girls: Menstruation

First of all did you ever notice that the word menstruation looks like what a gossip column would call it if the new hot couple was "men" and "frustration"? Anyway...

One of my big worries before arriving in Africa was what kinds of products would be available to deal with my periods? Would they have tampons? Pads? Soft moss? So I considered bringing with me a six month supply of o.b., which would have been silly cause they do have them here. But the travel nurse suggested that I take a keeper instead.

Which was a wonderful suggestion! I had been thinking of getting one for years because of course I had read all about how the bleach in tampons causes cancer, and the keeper is so much more environmentally good, plus being a healthier option, but I never seemed to have a spare $50 when I thought of it, plus I was worried that I wouldn't like it, and its not exactly something you can return.

So, while in Halifax I picked up a Diva Cup. The diva Cup is the same idea as a keeper, its a little cup that you put inside to collect the blood, except it is silicone instead of rubber. Apparently the keeper is no longer available in Canada because of some trade rule dealing with rubber.

Anyway, I have been using it for the last several days, and it is awesome! Its easy to put in and take out, not quite as easy as a tampon, but still not a hassle. It looks kind of scary and big, but I can't feel it at all once its inside. And it turns out that they will give you a refund if you don't like it, so I really urge all girls to try this out. Yeah, its a bit of money (I think it was 40?) up front, but you'll never have to buy tampons (which is a lot of money if you add it up over the years) again. And you can leave it in much longer, and you're less likely to get Toxic Shock Syndrome.

Seriously girls, just try it!

Kampala

I went to Kampala yesterday. It is huge and very dusty. The traffic is insane, there are no traffic lights and people pass whenever they can. It was hot, and our driver didn't know the city very well. We had meetings with people in the Ministry of Local Governance, The Uganda Human Rights Commission, and Uganda Local Authorities Association. Mostly not that productive really. One interesting thing is that the Ministry gets to see our modules and has to approve them. This is an idea that makes me really uncomfortable, like what if they want us to take stuff out, its not good for academic independence and integrity. But it doesn't seem to bother Father Max at all. Asking about it was kind of a culture clash moment, he really didn't get my concern at all.

We had lunch at the Equatorial Hotel, a very posh place. The food was delicious, and so much variety of cooking styles. It looked very grand and kind of colonial, I can picture British men in white suits planning their domination of Uganda there, but today all most all of the patrons are black.

And I finally got a cell phone! Of course, calling Canada is crazy expensive, but I'm glad that I can, at least once in a while. It is a rather old Noikia model, but it'll do the trick.

Elizabeth, the teaching assistant who is the other person in my office came with us, and it was the first chance we've had to really chat. She has a wickedly witty sense of humor, and I am very glad to make a new (female) friend.

One the way back to Nkosi we stopped and Elizabeth and Max showed us coffee trees.