Uganda Wishes – Border Towns

Please note: this post was originally written December 7.

At the Congo/Uganda border

The winds arrive then the rain leaves. The start of the dry season. So it has been heard. The winds warped the tent most of the night. I lay awake a good long while listening.

The men are hustling this morning to get the roof trusses up and beat the mid-day sun. Eight of them carry the trusses. The morning goes by. Rollers brush on a primer paint for the facing boards.

Congo/Uganda border market

I look out for Wilson who promised to take me to the Congo border market. Both Colleen and I hop on a boda-boda together. In the Congo trucks are loaded four stories high. Women cater to their heads carrying food and fuel. There’s a line-up for the fuel. Plastic water bottles fill to the brim with gasoline. Wilson says for lights. The roads amongst this town look like something out of a Western movie. A truck drives through and sinks deep. Pop bottles rattle in the back as the driver tries to meander out.

We stop for a soda after visiting the Congo market material row. A brilliant show of colourful material ready to be sewn into a lavish dress. Rows of food, salt even and flour. The sight is unseen before my eyes.

Salt for sale...

I don’t last long with the hustle and soon spin back. At PODA’s camp in Bwera I get asked again, “Is there religion in Canada?"

Do these people know their destiny I think to myself? Probably not. Who does? But for many, to carry on – it’s their faith that keeps them going.

I sit with Moses, a teacher. I pose the Uganda Wishes question on him. What is your wish for Uganda today?

“I hope it to be ok,” he says. “Bit of a problem in Uganda. Leadership not good for someone to stay too long. Need to bring stability,” he explains. “We need change. Lacking jobs because we are lacking skills. Education is not up to date. We are lacking skilled labour. Why people are blaming the government. Very few people can build. Few schools even for mechanics. Because of money, people drop out. Vocational school wasted they become thieves and thugs,” he explains.

I ask him for his wish for the world.

“Peace. At least when you have peace in the world, you can have harmony.”

The trusses are up!

The day wraps up. We all decide since it’s both Cam and I’s last night in Bwera that we head out for a drink.

It’s the only building in Bwera that I’ve seen at night with some funky flashing blue and red lights. We stroll through the entrance into a courtyard at the back where we unload rows of plastic chairs. I immediately think dance floor. But there’s no music.

We talk amongst ourselves while we hear the shrieks and screams of children begging at the metal walled doorways. Quietly we ignore their pleas.

Again I imagine what my life would be like if I hadn’t had this opportunity to visit Africa. Tomorrow I head back to Kampala and soon back home to Canada.

I am grateful. Truly I feel rich.

Sunset in Bwera

Uganda Wishes – Bwera Wrapping Up

A view to the Congo.

To think yesterday the whole village ate the cow. (Post originally written Dec. 6).

The clean-up is underway after yesterday’s African wedding celebration for Peter and Natalie. I sit amongst some locals posing for their cameras. Joy is in the air.

I speak to some of the young men. Two want to become doctors, one a lawyer. I listen with hope. They also claim they want access to music. The young villagers are using sticks to play the cultural dancers rhythm box. Slabs of wood. Numbered for tonal definition.

The music box!

It’s time to sit down with Nelson. I watch as men untie the wood framing of the pavilion. We plant ourselves amongst the tear down. Where everything took place yesterday.

He shares with me his wish for Uganda today.

“My wish is improving the livelihood of the people, so the people get land and can match their environment,” he explains.

“For the whole world, I wish for stability. Peace and joy. Where there is peace, there is development. Where there is joy, the development comes in.”

My mind circles around the word infrastructure. Needed first. Accessible water, sanitation (at the camp we have a cement hole the size of matoki in our outhouse). Roads without potholes. A power supply.

Later Nelson takes me for a walk. To the river bordering the Congo and past where some collect water. Also a watering hole for the local waragi – distilled banana hooch.

Coffee trees.

Along the way we pass crops of g-nuts, coffee, vanilla beans, rice, maize, beans, banana trees, palm oil trees, yams, tea, a plant which Nelson claims only two leaves boiled to a bitter two cups of tea cures malaria. Also a tobacco plant. I’m delighted to witness the lush and richness of the land. Scattered mud huts abound. Intertwined soil paths lead the way. We follow a guide.

Vanilla beans.

Women carry water up a steep hill.

Another view to the Congo.

Children entertain themselves in the river floating downstream with Jerry cans. Some splash in from up high.

The river running through the Congo border.

Upon our return trip I discuss with Nelson the fear of disclosure and HIV/AIDS. He explains AIDS is like any other disease. Cancer is in some cases a curable disease. We mope on the stigma around it. He tells me there are songs and drama made for awareness. To shed the right light.

In camp again I sit around idly chatting to more locals. I hear how the cash crops in the area include both coffee and cotton. Cotton sold to the textile industry in nearby Jinja.

The tents frolic about in the wind. I start to think about going back home to Canada. What I will do and how things will be different. Have I changed?

Africa has lots of work to do. To become a country for competition. For advancement. To fill the people’s lives with hope. I imagine positive results for Uganda with the election. An end to corruption. That peace and joy prevail and the hope for the nation will be one filled with freedom. Freedom from HIV. Freedom from corruption. Freedom from the sorrow and poverty.

But if the riches come, will the corruption increase?

The generator blares and the winds continue to stir up dust. I wonder what those back home really know about Africa.

Eventually you find your comfort level in Africa. Then it’s time to leave. You get used to young men walking down the street holding hands. Even younger women wearing children close to their backs. Goats tethered on the sides of the road. Women carrying the weight of water or wood on their heads. Bicycles with barefoot pedalers. Pineapples hanging from rat traps. Men with guns.

What does Africa mean to me? It will take time once I arrive home to answer that. Tomorrow concludes my time in Bwera.

Soon also, my time in Africa. 

Uganda Wishes – Bwera Prepares

Another morning. I walk to the view of the Congo. We’re near the border. I’m allowed to pass. Locals continue to giggle as I announce good morning in their language. Many on route to fetch water or bring home firewood. Yellow Jerry cans strapped to their foreheads. I find the church at the top of the hill. Alone. Perched clearly for the beauty.

There’s an interesting take on names here. I arrive back at camp in time for breakfast. Dear Innocent is refused food as he’s shown up without a formal request to work. He’s been a volunteer yet he doesn't want to leave. Both Natalie and Peter have given him money to go home. Kathy, a nurse – also from Victoria speaks of others she’s met. Desire is one name. Truly it is his name.

Can’t be a hypochondriac here in Uganda. You have to suck it up. Access to medical care isn’t a hop skip and a jump away.

Peter and Natalie Hunt of PODA

The chickens lope around freely. Pete walks on damage control. He’s announced there is no wood for a fire. No wood to cook lunch. I feel hungy yet I bite my tongue. Innocent was refused food. Yet he works on. Adamant he stay. No lure to leave. Others nearby look malnourished. Round tummies bound.

The children play for song. All look happy. I ponder on.
Kathy the nurse sees a young boy, Steven. Lesions stay his skin. Unknown reasons. Talk of jiggers. Yet the cause not true. We’re not doctors here. Only nurses. With love and care for what we can do.

I busy waving flies and think to myself tomorrow is the wedding. Pete has already seen his jacket. He fears for loud. Maybe from a 1980’s saxophone band era? The colours speak.

Yet we await Nat’s preparation. Rumours are to expect the villages around and more. For celebration, food, music and dance. We imagine order. Yet a muddle of locals with collaboration is expected to ensue.

I picture the ground breaker aka the brick maker. A team of men shovel, mix and squeeze, they pour out fast. And stack to the right. Age dries them up. The walls go high. The school has progressed.

Intake of water is low in the system, while the consumption is high. So claims the plumber who I sit down to speak with. He illustrates how the women suffer carrying the water. He says he’s requested the government to survey the land for infrastructure. The villages need to pay. $500 Uganda shillings per month. A lot to them. Less then a dollar for us.

The lizards scratch around as we speak. A chicken chases one. Unsuccessfully.

The plumber thinks the mzungus should pay. I tire from that talk. Since we’ve been speaking, I decide to ask him his wish for Uganda today.

“I wish for Uganda for stability. Unity. Better leadership. In Uganda, in that moment you have all those things you become free. Free to work in a free land. We say united we stand – united we fall.”

After I ask him for his wish for the world.

“To have peace in the whole world.”

I tell him his English is very good. He tells me he is the seventh son of his father and claims English was brought by the British to colonize Uganda.
“We have our own native languages,” he reiterates.

The sacrificial cow has arrived. To be slaughtered for the African wedding celebration tomorrow for Natalie and Peter.

I spend some time handing out clothing to needy children. The young crawl around in rags. My pockets are empty. It’s all I can do.

Along comes Wilson. He’s finished his studies and has qualified to be a tutor. Soon a teacher. So I ask him his wish for Uganda.

“I want Uganda to develop. To be diverse in technology – politically, economically - then socially. Manufacturing industries like cement, mining, welding. These industries can help Uganda develop,” he says.

The wish for the world?
“That the developed countries liberate with the third world countries. Expose their technology to the third world countries, then they can come up,” he concludes.

I take a Stoney break (a ginger tasting soda) and walk down to the end of the road. Another swarming of children. Young and ruthless for serving the smiles. They laugh together and giggle with looks.

I decide to test out my Ugandan dance style with the kids. I get my HD camera out and flip the viewfinder their way. They’re in love to see their faces. Soon a crowd.

Local women sit on the road scrubbing their hair for tomorrow. Chitter chatter, pitter patter. I hear children mimic the moo of the cow. Clearly we’ve brought some sunshine. No rain now for three days.

There’s excitement in the air as Bwera prepares. 

Uganda Wishes – Bwera Builds

Children in Bwera.

I awake to a starlight morning with a view of the big dipper upside down. We’d crossed the equator twice on route. The roosters are in competition as the sun comes up.

There’s a lot of laughter when I approach the cooks for some Lhukonzo words. It’s the tribal speak in these parts. My attempts at good morning are empathetic. At least they’re smiling. The pots show steam over the wood fires. The outdoor kitchen is well equipped.

Colleen and I take a stroll through the neighbourhood. A dirt path. Soft from the rain. The children smile and giggle when I say wabukire which I pronounce wobachire - meaning good morning. They hear me back. The homes are frames with wood and clay. Cracks appear to ripple their surroundings.

The children wear their environment. Dirty. Belly buttons hang out. We meet an older man with a mattock. He has one eye. His grin spreads his face as he extends his hand to greet us. We return to camp with a parade of laughter from the children along the way.

I meet Gedion. A teacher. His English is very good. After some relaxed talk I pose the question. What is your wish for Uganda today?

“I wish for peace and stability in place. For people to get employed. For living to become better.”

Then I ask him for his wish for the world.

“For international cooperation. If I wish to go to another country, the whole world should be friendly. Inter-dependence – equality. So a country may be dependent on another country. I hope for the exchange of knowledge. Commodities,” he stresses.

There’s romance to visiting Africa. For many it’s believed they can help. I’ve concluded it’s Africa that needs to help Africa. No one else. But we in the developed countries can show them the way.

The school construction with bricks made on-site.

The PODA project is moving quickly. Many men work making bricks and placing bricks. A skill-building chance for some from Kampala and also the locals here in Bwera.

Celebrating the final brick on one wall!

The last brick is laid on the eastern facing wall. There is clapping. Lunch is called. It’s almost 1 p.m. Clouds and the sounds of thunder threaten. Yet drums beat on in the distance.

A close look at matoki.

A bunch of us drive to nearby Kasese for supplies. There’s a highway. I watch many men push bicycles laden down with wood or matoki. I wonder how far they have to go. No helmets. No bottles of water strapped to their bikes. The heat is high.

Bwera is mountainous with views of water. I saw a river on the drive. Beautiful yellow birds fly alongside. Their chirp is loud. The sound is happy. I watch storks and cows feed off the roadside garbage. There are distinctly African looking trees. A bellow on top wide-spread. No power lines. Jerry cans carry the water. Nobody has a running tap inside their home. I contemplate how such infrastructure could arrive to areas such as this. Rumours fly that government taxes are soaked up in corruption. Many seek that change.

The change will come - for those who choose to take that path.

Bwera Bound

I take up an opportunity to visit PODA’s project in Western Uganda near the Congo Border with Peter and Natalie Hunt and number of other fellow Canadians. We departed Dec. 2. The next few posts are a catch-up due to lack of Internet access.

Alongside the tea plantations

I left my computer behind. Hope I have enough warm clothes. There’s eight of us in a 10 passenger Toyota van. We’re off. Two wheelchairs on top. If you opened the aft hatch too much would fall out. It’s a seven and a half hour trek. That we know. Bye bye Kampala.

First stop, the drum vendors. On the side of the road. Barter, barter. Some are drunk. We get a bass and a treble sounding one each. By 11 a.m. we’re passing white circles. The Ugandan markers for the equator. The usual amount of produce is sold generously at the sides of the road. A guy walks out with a string of fish as we drive by. We’re near a lake. As we travel further west the density of foliage becomes richer. We see a boda-boda with a speed wobble. No, it’s two people with three goats.

Lunch is a stop in an Indian style restaurant. Here I learn of a wedding celebration on Sunday. Pete and Nat’s. African style. I feel honoured to be able to attend. Apparently the sacrificial cow is already standing by.

On our way again. Another stop by the traffic police. Nat’s driving now. He asks for her International Driver’s license. She says it’s not in her purse but in the back. In English with a accent he explains the importance of having your license next to you when you’re driving.

“When you have a gun – you keep it by your side. Why do you not?” he insists and waves us on.

This after he asks why is it that “she” is driving?

A tea plantation in Western Uganda.

As dusk slopes down we make another stop to photograph the tea plantations. Spectacular. We then cross through Queen Elizabeth Wildlife Refuge. And halt for elephants. Pete caught them in the corner of his eye. More speed bumps, they’re everywhere. Then baboons. Funky faces. Curious.

I ask Pete and Nat why Bwera? They’re tangled with a group called Cobra to build a secondary school.

Pete met Nelson, the on-site project lead for Cobra at Mengo Hospital. Nelson was a guard. He invited him to Bwera to visit his family. That was six years ago.

We arrive at dark. The locals greet us in broken English with “You are welcome.”

The tool shed is then laid out with a tasty African dinner consisting of cabbage, sweet potatoes, beans, g-nuts, pineapple and melon.

Our tent is raised and Colleen (also from Victoria who only arrived to Kampala yesterday) and I are home.

The stars are deep in Bwera. It feels peaceful here. I look forward to the rise of the sun to seep in the surroundings and the progress of the school.

How is Your Life?

“Do what you like, but like what you do,” dear old dad used to say.

I contemplated those words today as I walked the streets of Kampala. What if you did what you did because you had to? Suppose you didn’t have a choice?
No way out.

One of my housemates at Mengo Hospital, Kelly, also from Victoria and myself came across a young boy lying face down on the street. He was sleeping in the shade. On the cement. In bare feet.
We’d seen him there the day before. Hand out. Looking for money. As we pass by Kelly invokes an earlier conversation we’d had around poverty. The issue of HIV amongst the less serving.  The high incidence of the incurable disease amongst the poor.

Together we theorize the way out of the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa is to end poverty. But how? Africa’s not the only continent with poverty issues.

As we scurry past him Kelly remarks if she had Abbey, the leader of the African Hearts’ contact information – she could of given it to him. Abbey has assisted many young boys leave the streets and find hope and family for their future with the help of music.

Good idea I say. I totally agree. To show him a new path. To find a new road to travel on. One without a hill or any speed bumps.

I’ve been contemplating the income generating ideas HIV mothers have grabbed onto. Basket and mat weaving is one. Beads for necklaces another. Sewing up clothing and bags.

Why can’t Africa become the next China for manufacturing? Give somewhere for this young population to grow into.

Next week I travel to Bwera to help out with PODA (Partnership for Development Association). They’re building a school.

I have heard from Natalie and Peter that one of their plans is to build an area where the women and girls can hang up their laundry. Because when the women menstruate they can’t go to school. They don’t have access to the sanitary napkins and tampons as such as we do in the developed countries. So they wanted to make sure they had an area private where they could hang their laundry. Without shame.

Since my son was born, I’ve been using Luna Pads during my cycle. To cut down on garbage and they’re recyclable.

I show one to Natalie. She asks if I can bring it to Bwera so the women can make a pattern.

No problem I think to myself. How easy it would be for them to make them. No more missing school. A possible income generating project?
Perhaps. But more importantly. A road for opportunity. So when one asks “How is your life?”

The reply will be, “Perfect.”