Bye, Mzungu, See You!

Border Blunder

Another day… another border. This one didn’t prove to be any better despite the fact that we had already applied for visas ahead of time. The woman at the window enthralled with her YouTube videos said we needed a print out of our visa confirmation, even though the website clearly states that it’s not necessary. When we tried to argue our position with a screenshot of their website, she passed us off on her superior who was also adamant we have paper proof. He sent us out on the outskirts of the compound to print, and when we returned, the process was over quickly. Then we needed to register the car. The woman at this window sent us out back to a cluster of glass offices where a gentleman with the largest receipt book we’ve ever seen was sitting. He said we were good to go which left us skeptical. What about filling out for your giant registration book? Where is our paper receipt? It turns out we were right; we were not good to go, for when we went to the gate, the guard said he needed a piece of paper and told us to reverse and go to another building.

By the time we drove the car to three separate buildings trying to get it registered, Coons let Kourtney sit with the car to make sandwiches while he tried to figure all of this out. Running back and forth for another hour, Coons finally arrived back to the car where he noticed our back tire was looking a little flat. We used our compressor to fill the tire and crossed our fingers it would hold up — we just wanted to get the heck out of the border.

We drove right to the capital, Kampala, which is a tight, cramped little city where the motos maneuver faster than all vehicles and the white taxi vans cut people off at every turn. Kampala is stressful even to the experienced driver so we were more than ready to reach the backpacker lodge and finally get out of the car. When we did, the sky opened up in a fury. The grass sopping wet within minutes. So we went to the bar to have a beer and wait it out, but it didn’t let up. Then we noticed that water was pouring in through the sunroof of the car creating a small lake on the driver’s side (subsequently fixed in PJ Part 5). After months in the tent and days in the rain, we opted for a 14-person dorm room that was blissfully empty.

Lugazi

The next morning, October 20th, we were on the road to Lugazi where our volunteering began. Before we reached our meeting point with Valence (the program director), we were pulled over by a very aggressive police officer who told us passing trucks is illegal (even though other cars were doing it and the 18 wheeler was going 20km in a 50km zone). He told us we had two options: go to court and pay 3.5 million shillings ($950) or pay him 100,000 right now ($25). Hindsight is 20-20 and we should have offered to go to court — what a story that would make for the blog — but eager to get to our meeting spot on time (like it matters in Africa), we paid the money which he pocketed cockily and sent us on our way. No receipt. We would get stopped in town almost daily and never ticketed again, so on average, we made out okay in Uganda.

We met Valence and he brought us to his home. He lives in a very safe compound that is fenced, gated, and guarded by a night watchman who would surprise us by cleaning our car once a week while we were sleeping. We really enjoyed him! Valence has three children: Joshua age 11, Bethany age 8, and Abbey age 3. Joshua and Bethany attend a boarding school which is where children tend to receive the best education. We were able to eat almost nightly with Abbey whom we adored. She has a lot of character with her beaded braids and her frequent outfit changes. She would ride around in the driveway on this blue motorcycle which made the most obnoxious sounds. She’d sing the Baby Shark song and something about baby Jesus that we later heard on a documentary called God Loves Uganda. Doreen and Aunty Rose made most of our meals, and they were always interested in our favorites. They make a mean chapati which is like fried pita bread — so delicious! We especially enjoyed the peanut sauce, cabbage, and Nile perch. They also encouraged us to try new things like roasted grasshoppers and jack fruit.

Valence is a visionary. He grew up orphaned at a young age and finished a degree at university where he met his wife. His dream was to open up a school in his home village of Kitoola. He has since opened up two campuses, one with a junior school and the other with a junior and secondary school. In total, almost 1,000 students are receiving an education at these schools.

Unfortunately, Valance, like most visionaries tends to miss a lot of details. When they say it takes a village, they must have been talking about Hopeland. If it weren’t for the people Valence surrounds himself with, the organization would most likely collapse. We were a bit dismayed that when we showed up, he seemed to have no idea what we were there to do and the school staff seemed surprised at our arrival. The microfinance program which attracted us to this particular organization, Hopeland Volunteering (or YAFOFO), was nonexistent. It seems like it existed five years ago, but no one ever bothered to update the website, or tell Coons that it was no longer a thing. We were left with the impression that they collected our money and forgot about us completely. To boot, Valence left for the states less than a week after our arrival. Even before he left, he was frequently called away for political campaign meetings. Amanda, his representation in the US, seemed to have no idea about the inner workings of the program and confessed she only operated the website for Valence. So Coons kept himself busy with Jovia, the organizations’ bookkeeper, who was really grateful for his help; that is at least until we could settle into a routine.

In addition to helping Jovia, Coons had an opportunity to meet with a local women’s savings group in Lugazi. This group was made up of about 45 women who would meet every Friday to discuss their finances, problem-solve, and save money together. Each member contributed 2,000 to 10,000 shillings per week ($0.50 to $2.50) to their personal savings and some money to a community fund that was used for member emergencies. Members are able to take loans out against their savings, secured by household collateral, and the interest is shared among all members. At the end of the year, the members get their money and shared interest back and can choose to continue saving or use the money for other endeavors. These savings groups empower women to become an equal partner in household decisions and provide an important safety net for people in a culture where saving money is not a common occurrence.

Armed with this knowledge, Coons prepared a simple one-page handout that the women could use to track their monthly expenses and categorize them so they could get a better sense of where their money was being spent. It’s hard enough to keep track of your spending in America, but for people who work 100% in cash and don’t have bank accounts, it’s nearly impossible. The handout also had a space to help them visualize and quantify their financial goals, whether it was starting a small business or putting their children through school. Valence’s brother, Innocent, was there to help translate and the presentation was very well received by the ladies.

Hopeland Junior School

For a month, we settled into a nice routine. We woke up, showered, had a delicious breakfast which quickly became our favorite meal of the day: eggs, sausage, fruit, toast, and tea all made by Aunty Rose. Then we set out for the Kitoola village. We drove five kilometers down a dusty and bumpy dirt road, often splashing through puddles from the overnight rain. Each day we would become stuck behind a massive tractor pulling a trailer full of sugar cane until we had enough space to pass. BEEP BEEP! We would wave to the families working in the fields, washing their boda bodas (motorcycles) in the river, and sitting outside enjoying the morning sunshine.

When we arrived at the Hopeland Junior School, the children would announce “the visitors are here!” and “mzungu!” which is Swahili for “white person.” Coons settled into a small room outside of Innocent’s office. Innocent is the principal of the school and an absolute gem. He is every bit the motivated, optimistic, and passionate educator we were hoping we would be working with. Kourtney would pick up a new chapter of Charlotte’s Web (that she typed the night before) from Brenda in the printing room if the generator or solar power was working that day. Coons met with teachers to discuss their budgeting, finance, and long-term goals. Kourtney taught three classes per day for an hour each, visiting primary four through six.

When she entered the room, all of the students would stand and greet her, and they would continue to stand until she gave them permission to sit. It turned into a little game as Kourtney was not used to this incredibly polite behavior, she would frequently forget to request they be seated and they would laugh. The students also laughed at how frequently she broke the chalk, so they would always fetch extra for her at the beginning of the class. The students loved wiping the board, collecting papers, and helping carry her things back to the teacher’s lounge. Each day P5 taught her another word or phrase in Lugandan. Anything to be helpful. The students also cleaned their classrooms daily during lunch, sweeping and mopping the floors. When the next teacher was late, we would dance. When the teacher didn’t show up at all, we played games or ran around in the fields out back past the toilets.

Kourtney found that the teachers taught writing and grammar quite well, but reading was not much of a priority (the lack of a library didn’t help). What little reading the students did was out of a work book which she didn’t believe sparked much joy. She worked on reading comprehension with the students as well as vocabulary and strategies for test taking in reading. The P7 group, in particular, was eager to ask her questions as they prepared for their national exams. Kourtney aimed to provide an experience that was less didactic and more interactive. The children had never acted out a scene before! There were plenty of days where the chapter couldn’t be printed or the only dictionary was misplaced, and she had to improvise, allowing the students to read from her cellphone or look up words on her dictionary app.

During break or lunch, the nursery children would run over to us, touching our hands, feet, nose, ears, elbows, hair, etc. We would teach them English words or read to them, and they would ask us to say “nose” and “hole” in Lugandan, laughing uncontrollably. Lunch was posho (maize porridge) and beans. Every. Day. We drank little water so as to avoid using the bathrooms that were a circular hole in the ground with a door that doesn’t close and was definitely see-through. When it was time to leave, the children yell, “Bye, see you,” and run to the gate waving. We’d chug a liter of water on the way back to Lugazi and talk about our day. While Rose opened the gate of the compound, children from the school near our compound came running down the street chanting, “A Mzungu, a Mzungu!” We parked PJ and went back outside the gate for greetings and high-fives. Then the next day we did it again. There are certainly worse ways to spend a month.

Sipi Falls

During the weekends we took mini excursions. The first one was to Sipi Falls, four hours east of Lugazi. Our campsite was a bit tricky to get into, requiring us to back down a steep hill with a sharp curve, but the views of the waterfall from the bar made it all worth it.

While we enjoyed a meal, the monkeys tried to steal our trash and during the night avocados fell from the trees near our tent. We met a nice European couple who had also quit their jobs and had been traveling for a year, but all in Africa via public transport. We offered to give them a ride to Jinja in a couple of days where they were hoping to go eventually and they gladly accepted.

The next day, our guide Martin brought us on a hike down into, behind, and under three waterfalls. The views were incredible and Coons was able to practice more with the ND filters on the fancy camera!

We were able to get so close that we got soaked from the mist of the falls. It was a nice long hike through the local villages where we learned to say “Takwenyo” (Hello, how are you?) as we stomped through the mud. Martin was particularly skilled at finding chameleons in the trees, and he put them on our hands so we could feel them claw their way up our arms!

On the way back from the hike Martin told us about some of the interesting customs of his local tribe. Kourtney had read that you can attend a circumcision gathering, so she had to ask. Boys are not circumcised until they are at least 13. From age 13 to 18, a boy can make the decision about when he wants the procedure done. The ceremony and procedure are largely for health reasons but it is also a right of passage, and they will usually refuse pain medication. Until this happens, he will not be considered a man. The immediate family with make food and beer and invite family and friends for the event. Fortunately, they no longer practice circumcision on females.

The next day Martin picked us up at 9am and brought us to his village where he showed us his coffee plants. He showed us which ones to pick and a nursery where transplanting starts. Then we sat outside his home while coffee was drying on the ground in the sun. We crushed some of the dried beans to separate the skin, and then sifted the skins out in the wind like someone would flip a pancake in a pan.

Then we roasted the beans on the fire inside their cooking hut until the aroma and color were perfect. We continued to crush the beans until they were fine grains all while singing songs Martin made up to pass the time.

♫ KC don’t you worry. In Sipi coffee is waiting for you don’t worry. ♫

After we boiled the water and coffee mixture, we were ready to taste. Kourtney and Martin made a medium roast so Coons wasn’t about to try this batch. But remember in Colombia when he did try coffee?! Instead Martin arranged for some of the local beer to be brought to his house so Coons could sample it. They brought it in this yellow plastic jug that looks like it might have held oil for a vehicle at one point. He poured it into a kettle with a long spout and Coons went to town. The beer tasted more like porridge and could certainly suffice as a meal in a bind. The alcohol content was low as this was more of a social drink that is meant to be filling.

After our drinks, we brought Martin to his butcher a couple of towns over along with the Europeans who were coming with us to Jinja, where the source of the River Nile is located. We stayed at a nice lodge overlooking the river with a rope swing so we could swim in style.

We saw more Mzungus than we had in months! We ate at this awesome place which has a couple of large shipping containers turned into food stands and they had every variety of food that you could image. Coons had pizza and a smoothie and Kourtney had Thai food and a mint iced tea. It was so delicious we went back the next day — mostly because the Mexican food stand was closed the first time we went! It did not disappoint.

Kamuli

Our second excursion was to visit Issac and Joseph in their villages. We were supposed to visit our friend Heather Rose from Portsmouth, but she unexpectedly flew home early, and Issac said he hoped we would still come to meet him. I guess that he and Heather had been fighting over who would take PJ’s third seat, so he was happy to take a selfie in the car and send it to her.

He brought us to the house he grew up in and he and Joseph cooked us a huge meal that we thought was dinner, but turned out to be lunch! It was quite delicious! We got to meet Heather’s chicken Embwa so we’re happy to report that he was alive and well. Then we went into the center of town to buy fish and see if his father was around. His father has a school in town, so Kourtney got to dance with the students while we were waiting. Apparently we had just missed him as he was at church, so we set back out for Issac’s home to cook the fish.

We offered to help with dinner but didn’t prove to be too helpful. Neither of us had skinned a fish and had already been feeling queasy about some of the meat we had been consuming lately, so Issac happily obliged us. We cut up some onions and tomatoes inside a tiny bowl on our laps with a dull knife and Joseph laughed at us. We had been taking our table, cutting board, and chef knife for granted clearly. The dinner was incredibly tasty. After avocado for dessert and conversation — mostly about Joseph’s aspirations to make 20 friends and then go to America — we retired to our rooftop tent which seemed to amaze them.

The next morning we walked into town to get chapatis for breakfast. Kourtney thought she was carrying Issac’s daughter, but it turned out it was his niece, so she started to feel bad about stealing someone else’s child for such a walk. Once safely back, Kourtney returned the child and we finished breakfast and tea. We ran into Issac’s father as we were setting out to Kagulu Rock to hike.

Issac and Joseph asked several times if we had hiked before, so after telling them a couple of times we have been hiking before and love it, we figured we might as well play along and tell them it was our first time and we were nervous we might not make it up. They expressed their concern for us as we did not look as physically capable as Heather Rose who apparently struggled to reach the top. The love that Issac and Joseph have for Heather Rose knows no bounds. They speak of her frequently and compare everything we/all white people do to what she does or can do. Why don’t you run 20 miles from the city to the village like Heather Rose does? You can’t cook as well as Heather Rose. Joseph even asked Heather Rose to name his newborn son!

Feeling inadequate, we still managed to make it up to the top of the rock formation in around 25 minutes. It was a steep climb but offered beautiful 360 views. At the top is a comical sign that reads, “Finally! 3600 feet. Congratulations.” We laughed because it wasn’t even the highest point of the rock, so we set about getting to that point. The ~11 children (it was hard to keep track as more would keep appearing) that were hiking with us brought us to a cave but said to enter we must take off our shoes and pay tribute to spirits living in the cave. Not wanting to disrupt the spirits or leave our shoes behind, we opted to find a different way around. We walked through tall grass and scrambled up rocks so hot from baking in the sun, but we made it!

After we descended, we drove to Joseph’s village to see his family. They were very sweet and welcoming and insisted on feeding us. Interestingly enough, in their culture, it is considered rude to eat with your guests. So they made us a delicious meal and then they ate separately from us as a sign of respect. The meal was very tasty! Joseph’s aunt was just delighted that we were there, saying it was a miracle from God. On the way back to the car, she and Kourtney held hands the whole way. It is so cool that language may separate people but love and respect never do!

It was a short visit with Issac and Joseph, but it was a special one. We thank you both for inviting us into your homes. Then we needed to head back as we needed to go back to Issac’s village, gather his things, drop them off in Kamuli, and then make it home to Lugazi hopefully before dark. Rule #1! Of course, this didn’t happen and we had one of the most stressful nights driving back to Lugazi thanks in large part to those white taxi vans who were running us off the road, driving in our lane, beeping their horns, and flashing their high beams at everything that moved. We made it safely but it was tiring. Doreen and Abby were there to welcome us back with a warm dinner, and we felt like we had a home away from home.

Our experience at Hopeland changed us profoundly. We found ourselves in the car discussing sponsoring children and adults looking to continue their education. Did you know for $1,500 USD you can put a young man or woman through a three-year teacher education program? To put a student through one year of boarding school in Kitoola is one million shillings which is the equivalent of about $300. We discussed adoption. Did you know there are more than 4.5 million orphans in Ethiopia? Then we started discussing helping to run a school or build one of our own when we retire. Coons could finally have that Land Cruiser he wanted. We could fly back in the winter months so as to not miss the ski season. Of course, there are people in other parts of the world, not to mention our own backyard, who need our help, but there is just something about Africa that stays with you. It’s hard to explain: it’s difficult, chaotic, and corrupt but it’s also interesting, unique, and unforgettable in a way that leaves you speechless and looking forward to returning. Either way, Kourtney found herself counting her lucky stars for the opportunity to teach abroad and for a husband with whom she will continue to formulate new goals and aspirations.