Installment #11--Sunday Showers

Not having any water at the IC house on Saturday can make a person go a little crazy after playing six or seven games of volleyball under the African sun. Not having water on Sunday either is just plain torture. I spent most of the morning Sunday writing, went into town at about 11:30 to take some lunch with a few of the other teachers, ran to the internet café and was back to the IC house by about 2:00. Mary, from Kampala, was scheduled to come by the house at 2:00. Mary makes beads out of old magazines and newspapers and creates necklaces and bracelets out of them. They are similar to the “beads for life” bracelets and necklaces, but are a microfinance project that Mary runs. In perfect Ugandan punctuality, Mary showed up at about 2:45. We took our time perusing her wares, and many people bought many necklaces. At about 3:30, as we were finishing our perusing, the skies opened up! Not having had a shower for a little over a week, and not having bathed for two days (after mucho sweaty volleyball), I ran back into the house, grabbed a towel and some soap, and ran back outside. Stripped to my skivvies, I nestled in under a corner of the roof that funnels water in a sizeable stream providing a very cold, but very refreshing shower. If you look around enough, there are a few pictures of me out there.

After my very refreshing shower, the IC car was by in short order to pick us up. We made our trip out to Pabo in a Matatu. The suspension on a matatu is something to be witnessed, as are the roads. The number of potholes, bumps, and ruts in the road to Sudan, and the severity of the bumps are amplified tremendously in a matatu, and your rear end feels every one. The trip in a matatu takes about an hour and a half, and Trisha, Danielle, and I were all happy that it was over. When we got back to the White House, Charles was waiting outside on the porch. I went in, unpacked, and went outside to meet Charles. We talked for a bit, I went in and had dinner, and then the girls and I talked a bit more in the evening.

Installment #10--It's Raining! (and we have to drive to Gulu in it!)

The next morning, I awoke to thunder, lightening, and pouring rain. If I were thinking, I would have jumped outside and taken a shower, but I didn’t. It took a while for the rain to stop, and it delayed our morning routine, so we got to school a little bit later (the bike ride took a bit longer too). I got to school (after a protein bar and some oatmeal—yeah variety!), and Charles asked me how pool was. I guess word gets around quickly in Pabo. In Gulu, it is not too unusual for for there to be a munu or two walking around town as there are so many NGO’s, but in Pabo, there are very few. Today I introduced a reading with one class of S2, and Charles finished “being phrases” with the other group. Class went all right. There was not major excitement, except lunch. Today was meat day at school, so I thought that I would be able to say no thanks and have a protein bar (or two) instead. Unfortnately, the people at Pabo already know I am a vegetarian, so they also brought a bowl of beans just for me (teachers get meat, but the students still get beans) so that I could eat lunch at school. Oh well. I am getting used to it.

Trisha and Danielle left early on Thursday because Trisha was feeling sick, but I stayd through the end of class. The IC car came by the school a little before 3:30 to pick us up so that we could go back to Gulu for the teaching and learning conference. The rain had started up again before we made it home, so the twenty mile drive on the fantastic roads took a little over an hour and a half. We got back to the house in time for dinner—Doreen’s food is great—and it is not Posho and Beans. We ate dinner, and John, Jon, Josh, and I played hearts and had some fantastic beers. After two games, several beers, and some pretty poor (I still laughed) Magee jokes, people started heading to bed. I went outside and talked with Geoffrey, the IC guard at night, until about 2:00 in the morning. He was a child soldier for 10 years and has some stories to share. We mostly talked about the current situation though, and about the government and the rebels and who was right and wrong. Geoffrey also talked a bit about his family. He has a wife and three kids, and struggles to make the money to send his kids to school. IC pays him a very good salary by Gulu standards, but it still is not enough. After talking with Geoffrey for a while, I went to bed.

On Friday, much of the day was spent at the teaching and learning conference in Gulu. All of the U.S. teachers met with their Acholi counterparts to discuss challenges of education in Uganda, participatory learning strategies, meaningful assessment, and other educational ideas. We made it home a little after 5:00 and had a discussion group about one of the education/colonialism/Africa assigned readings, and then had another fantastic Doreen dinner. After dinner, we talked for a little while, and then Josh, Jen, David, John and I went to a place in Gulu called Da Pub to celebrate the fourth of July. We had several Nile Specials, very good, and even did a little bit of dancing. At one point I was actually doing the electric slide to Britney Spears.

Saturday was a nice break as well. We called it our American Day. We had the learning conference until about noon, had lunch as a group, and then went back to the IC house to play several intense games of volleyball, eat a fantastic Mexican feast prepared by Doreen, and play some more volleyball. I ended up going to bed (very content) at about 9:30.

Best,
Matt

Instaqllment #9--Falling into a routine

Wednesday was my long day at school. Having gotten my bike back Tuesday night, I tried the ride in again this morning. I woke up at about 6:30 so that I could get ready and be out the door with plenty of time to get to school even if the bike broke again today. I ate another protein bar, passed on the bread as it was already moldy, took three trips to the pit latrine, and left for school. The ride took a little longer than 15 minutes, and I got to school fairly early. I reviewed the lesson plan for a while, and then it was off to class. Charles taught the first period, I taught the second and third period, and then Charles taught the final period of the day (periods are actually doubles—two 40 minute classes back-to-back). The first class that I taught went all right. There were several times when I do not think that I communicated quite clearly enough with the students, but they seemed to hang in there. The second class went much better except for the fact that it finally rained (Uganda has been in a three week dry spell—usually it comes sometime in July, but it was early this year—so everyone has been waiting for the rain). When it is raining very hard on a corrugated metal roof, it becomes very hard to speak and be heard. Luckily the rain only lasted for fifteen minutes or so, so I simply wrote the questions I would have asked or statements I would have made on the board. When students had an answer, I ran to them so they could tell me in my ear. The students got a kick out of it, and the lesson went well.

After having Posho and beans again for lunch, we were hoping that Harriet had cooked something different for dinner. She did—Cassava (like a potato—kind of, Boo—a green similar to but very different than spinach, and… BEANS!). A lack of showers and a diet that is heavily supplemented with beans (usually multiple times a day) leads to some interesting conversations about new and unique odors.

After dinner, Christine met us again and wanted to show us some more of the camp. Walter had stopped by, but wasn’t going to be able to come back that evening to show us around, so we went with Christine. We first went through the market that is behind the White House. Most of the vendors had already started packing up for the evening since it was a little late, and many had already left for the evening. We walked past tables with small red, yellow, and orange tomatoes and other various roots and beans. There were tables covered in little dried fish and flies, and others with smoked and raw tilapia (also covered in flies). While we were in the market, Robert—the manager of the White House—met up with us. After the market, we headed over to the police station to meet the Chief Criminal Investigations Deputy (CCID) for the camp. We said hello and introduced ourselves (I had actually met him the night before at the White House) got a quick tour of the office (a 10x20 foot room with a table a few chairs, and a few crates) and headed back for the evening. On the way, Robert asked if I wanted to play pool. I said sure, so we went to the establishment down from our hotel. We sat around for a while and talked with people, and eventually it was my turn to play. I joked a bit, played pretty poorly, and lost. As I was playing though, I noticed that people were slowly funneling into the place and that people had lined up outside the perimeter of the room we were in, and were staring in the windows. I probably had a crowd of one hundred people watching me.

Installment #8--Into the Camps

It wasn’t long after I got back to the White House that Walter showed up again. This time he wanted to take us around the camp and point out a few things that we should know. Christine, an Acholi woman living at the White House and doing service in the camps, wanted to come along as well. We walked down the Sudan road a bit before heading into the camp.

The signs of poverty in the camp are abundant. People (especially kids) wear clothes that are covered in filth, often torn, and quite often the younger kids do not have any clothes as well. It appears that there is a good deal of suffering as well. People suffer from various disfigurements, eye diseases, and other visible wounds. The huts are packed very tightly together, are cylindrical in shape, have thatched roofs (which often catch fire sparking a chain reaction of huts burning down because of their proximity to each other), and often house four, five, or even more people.

We weren’t in the huts too long before walking back out of them and towards the big Catholic mission in Pabo. A ways across from the mission is a soccer field. There was a crowd of several hundred people around the field gathered to watch the soccer match that was happening at the time. We didn’t go over to the match, and instead, we kept on walking. Pretty soon after the soccer match, we walked past several rows of old school buildings, mostly abandoned as the displaced schools they housed have moved back to the villages. There was one primary school that still ran though, and the children who attended the school were out in the courtyard practicing their dances for an upcoming competition. We sat and watched for a little while as the drums pounded, the hips gyrated, the necks popped, and the axes swung in the air (yes, axes…in the hands of possibly 100 primary school students). We kept moving though, and eventually got to the hospital. Walter thought that we should know where to go should we need any medical attention in the camp (don’t worry mom, I don’t plan on visiting again). The hospital had a large gate that opened to a courtyard with a mango tree and a plaque commemorating the building of the hospital. There were some few goats, chicken, and even a flock of turkeys that roamed in and out of the compound as well as several groups of people and individuals sitting on wooden mats in the courtyard. I would guess that the visitors in the courtyard were either awaiting treatment for an ill relative, or were ill themselves and were waiting to see a doctor.

We walked through the courtyard, around several small buildings that were built out of the same red clay bricks and had windows open to the outside as well as doors on some of the buildings. We saw a child receiving a shot in one of the rooms, and walked past another room that housed the maternity ward where several expectant mothers lay on white cots trying to pass their time. At the back of the compound were two larger buildings that appeared to have been built recently. These buildings housed the nursing staff and the doctors. We knocked on the door of one and met one of the nurses at the hospital. The doctor was unfortunately not in. The nurse invited us into the compound. The first room was pretty small, but had several chairs set up with a television and a DVD player set up on a table. On the DVD player, a Celine Dion video (it must have been a single—“I’m your lady” (?-I don’t really know the title of the song, but she sang that phrase over and over)) was playing over and over again. I am still amazed that most of the music that people listen to here is hip-hop music that is fairly current in the states. We stayed for a few minutes, talked, and then left for home as Harriet most likely was going to be done with dinner soon.

When we were walking back, we didn’t go to the Sudan Road right away, instead, we walked deeper into the camp and took a back way home. We saw all of the same images I mentioned before, caught a lot of stares, greeted a lot of people, and eventually wound up back out at the road right next to the White House. One image that will stick in my mind for quite some time though, was a little boy who came walking past us as we were strolling through a mini-market of beans and rice set up along the camp pathways. The boy was probably 12 or 13 and was completely naked. His eyes were both milky white, and from the way he walked, you could tell that he was blind. His elbows and shoulders and knees and hips were all bent at crooked and jagged angles so that he had to move sideways. He also may not have known how to speak as the only sound he made was a whine over and over again. I didn’t know how to react, so I kept on walking. In Uganda, when someone suffers from some form of mental disability, the common response is to just ignore the “mad” person. Eating dinner once we were back at the White House, it was hard not to think about how blessed we were when just outside our door, so many people are suffering.

Installment #7--Pabo S.S.--A Little Slice of Heaven (It is supposed to be hot there right???)

We dropped off our bags, and I changed into a long-sleeved shirt, long pants, and shoes. It is definitely going to take some adjusting to get used to the proper attire when the temperature gets into the high 80’s and the sun is beating down hard. Amy took us back over to the school, we met the headmaster, signed some documents (I hope I didn’t commit to a three year contract), and Amy took off. Trisha, Danielle, and I were finally all on our own in the middle of an internally displaced camp housing 60,000 displaced persons with no running water or electricity. Otim Walter Knox—the headmaster—and Odong Quintine—the deputy (2nd in charge)—took us around to show us the facilities. Schools in Uganda are typically built in classroom blocks with 2-3 classrooms next to each other in one long building. At Pabo, some of the classrooms are mud brick and mortar with corrugated metal ceilings, and others are a little bit newer and built out of concrete. The newer buildings were all built by NGO’s operating in Uganda. The older classrooms do not have floors, so the students have to sweep the rooms out and pour water every morning to try to keep the dust down. The rooms have several windows that stay open so that hopefully you can catch a breeze. Students do not have any textbooks, have one pen that they keep track of like gold, and use small notebooks to take any notes they need in the books.

After our tour, we went to the teacher’s lounge, met many of the teachers at the school, and sat down with our teachers. Charles taught the last period of the day, so I observed his last class. At Pabo, we actually have fewer students than many schools in Africa, but our classrooms are smaller as well. We have about 60 children in each of our classes. The whole classroom procedure will take a little getting used to, but I was really excited about the prospect of starting soon.

After classes, the three munu’s at Pabo called bodas and headed back to the hotel. We unpacked and got situated, and by the time we were finished, Walter Quintine, and a few other teachers had shown up to make sure that we were settling in all right. We had a soda with them, learned a little bit about the camp, and then our dinner was ready. Harriet, our personal cook and launderer had made chapatti (like thick flour tortillas), rice and beans for dinner. (After posho and beans for lunch, it was a little redundant, but we were tired and didn’t mention it). After dinner, it got dark very quickly, so Danielle, Trisha, and I talked for a while and headed to bed.

Tuesday ran pretty much as expected. We woke up early, bathed with our Jerry cans, and headed off to school. Breakfast consisted of a protein bar, two pieces of bread, and some peanut butter that I poured onto the bread. Trisha, Danielle, and I took off on our bikes for the school and were greeted by many little children yelling “munu byeeee!” as well as many adults laughing and smiling. We greeted as many as we could while we rode. Just outside of the IDP, I swerved to miss a bus who was wildly weaving from one shoulder to the next on the road (a common practice—many people take Dramamine before riding in a car) to avoid potholes and find the least bumpy route. When I swerved, the bike tire didn’t. I blew out a tire before ever making the trip to school once. I hopped off my bike and Danielle and Trisha kept going. If I would have walked the rest of the way, I probably would have been a half hour or more late to school, so I walked back to the camp, dropped my bike off at a small bike repair stand (one of the few trades, along with tailor, that people in Uganda are frequently taught), and found a boda to take me to school.

When I got to school, I talked with Charles a little bit about how he wanted to run the experience, and we looked at the plans for the rest of the week. We decided that today I would observe the classes still, and then tomorrow, I would be able to step in and introduce the lessons on pronouns to the S1 students. I observed two more classes during the day, and was able to write up a lesson plan for the class tomorrow. Charles and I shared the information, found some readings for later in the week, dropped them off with the typist, and were done for the day. (Oh yeah, lunch was beans and posho again—I believe that people eat this for lunch every day here—we’ll see). After school I walked back to the White House. It took a little over 45 minutes but was not that bad of a walk. As I moved further and further along the road, I was joined by more and more students who had all sorts of questions for me. The students asked about America, asked about superheroes and Jean Claude VanDamme. I asked them about school, and the camps, and their lives. Most of the students were pretty nice, and seemed generally interested and curious about me. In Gulu, there are so many NGO’s that it is not uncommon to see a white person around town, but in Pabo, there are so few that everyone notices you.

Installment #6--The White House...In Uganda?

Monday morning was a jumble of mixed feelings. I was very excited that we would be heading out to Pabo, but I was also quite nervous. Amidst the scurrying around, journal writing, and final preparations for the trip, one of the other volunteers came to retrieve me and let me know that Charles (my cooperating teacher) was at the front gate wondering if he could catch a ride with us out to the camp. He had been at the hospital with his cousin who had just had a baby, so he missed the bus on Sunday night. We talked to Amy, and it was fine that he joined us. IC sent two trucks in the morning for the trips to Atanga and Pabo, and after packing both and realizing that the big group should probably have taken the bigger car and the small group should have probably taken the smaller car (I use car lightly—I really mean Land Cruiser safari style, and double cab Toyota Tundra), we switched all of the gear around and started our trips. The road to Pabo is actually only a very small segment of a much larger road. Around here, we know the road as “The Road to Sudan,” but in reality, the road runs from Egypt all the way south to South Africa. I have to say that a trip that far would definitely result in bruised tailbones, aggravated hemorrhoids, and discombobulated internal organs. There are so many potholes, bumps, and eroded patches along the road that cars can only move at a crawl for long stretches and are rarely able to accelerate for any period of time. We arrived at the school, dropped Charles off, and headed to the White House.

The White House has a small store front that sells the typical soda, beer, bags of vodka and gin, and bottles of water. It sits on the edge of the actual IDP camp (the school is about 2km outside of the IDP camp). Behind the White House is a small courtyard with rows of rooms lining either side. The rooms are very simple, with a bed accompanied (after some asking) by a large mosquito net. There is a sink, a bed, and a shower head off in the corner, but no running water (and a sign, drawn in big sharpie marker across the tile that reads “Do Not Use!”—I think that they are planning on eventually having plumbing one day, but certainly don’t yet). We receive a jerry can of water as needed, and have a small green wash basin to take a bath with in the mornings (or evenings—if you leave the can out in the sun, it gets nice and lukewarm.

Installment #5--Children Children Everywhere

Saint Jude’s was fun an experience. It is a children’s home that fosters children whose parents are unable to care for them. Some of the children have lost their parents to the war or to Aids, and many have parents who are unable to financially support their children, but hope to one day come and collect them. We went to play with the children, and they presented a couple of song and dance numbers for us. We threw footballs, Frisbees, the some kids played football, some had races, and many of the small children just wanted to be held. Many of the small children who were held fell right to sleep in the arms of the volunteers as soon as they were picked up. After a few workshops and classes in the morning, and then St. Jude’s, we decided that it was time to unwind a little bit. We went over to the Kope Café and had a movie night. Amy went out and bought a couple of crates of beer, made some popcorn, and bought a bunch of g-nuts (just like peanuts in the states). The Kope Café (Jamie, the Invisible Children’s Intern Coordinator and House Manager started the Café to benefit HEALS-an Acholi community and dance center-so he has a bit of pull) has a projector and a big white patch on its wall, and one of the volunteers supplied the computer and the movie (Charlie Wilson’s War—pretty good). After the movie, it was back to IC house to pack and get ready for the big adventure out in Pabo!

Installment #4--Oh Charles, you crazy guy you.

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday contained a full compliment of classes and experiences in Gulu. We had a language workshop, Colonialism in the classroom discussion, an ESL strategies workshop, a discussion about Invisible Children programs, a lecture on Education from war to peace, a session on culture and customs, and an informational session about the different Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) in Uganda. We have also had a few meals out in Uganda, met our team-teaching partners, had a follow up meeting with our teachers, and gone shopping for supplies. The good news is that in all of the business, I have actually been able to get a full-night’s sleep the last several nights.

My first meeting with my cooperating teacher happened Friday night. The whole group got dressed up in slacks, shirts, ties, and dresses (boys and girls wore gender appropriate clothes goofball). We walked from the IC house over to Kope Café—a bit of an NGO hangout during the day. This night though, the café was closed to the public so that we could host a party for the cooperating teachers. Starting at about 6:00, the teachers began to slowly arrive. Over the next hour, most of the teachers showed up. My cooperating teacher, Oola Charles, arrived about a half hour into the party. We sat for a while and made small talk. I had already met his colleagues that will be teaching with Danielle and Trisha. Charles and I talked about our own lives in the states and Uganda, we talked about the differences between our school systems, and about a few other elements of Acholi and American culture. Conversation went smoothly at times, was awkward at others, and we definitely hit a few silent spots. Charles’ English skills and mine are a bit different, both based on culture and familiarity with the language, so that caused a little bit of miscommunication to happen periodically. Charles would not understand a question I asked, or vice versa. But by the end of the night, we had at least started to get to know each other.

Saturday Morning, I met up with Charles again. We went to breakfast at the Kope Café. All of the Pabo teachers decided to meet before the Geoffrey, Vasco and Charles went back to their homes for the afternoon. Geoffrey and Vasco both (Danielle and Trisha’s coordinating teachers) arrived at 9:00 for breakfast, and Charles came by at about 9:45 (not terribly unusual for Uganda). Unfortunately, we had already ordered breakfast, so Charles went inside to place his order. At about 10:30, everyone but Charles’s breakfast had arrived (as is customary—you get your food in the order that it is prepared, not all together). By 11:00, the two teachers from Pabo needed to leave. By 11:30, Danielle and Trisha needed to leave to run errands (thanks to them for picking up my slack on errands too!), and by 12:00, Charles and I had run out of things to talk about. Or conversation at breakfast went much more smoothly today, with only a few instances where we misunderstood each other, but having just met each other the night before, we had a limited number of topics that we could discuss. Charles food ended up never arriving. It turns out that the café apparently looked for him inside (we were sitting on the patio), didn’t find him, and returned his food to the kitchen. Charles ordered a Fanta pop, we sat for the next half hour watching the people on the street (Even though it is somewhat uncomfortable for me to sit for 30 or 40 minutes without talking, this too is not awkward in Acholi culture,…or at least so I am told). At about 12:30 we parted ways (from our three and a half hour breakfast), and I met up with Danielle and Trisha to help with the errands.

Today, I am going to be heading off to St. Jude’s Children’s orphanage to visit with the children there. I will be packing up for Pabo this evening, and tomorrow night I will be heading out to Pabo to start my stay there! I will continue to try to post every weekend, but there will be a weekend or two when I am traveling in Uganda and away from the internet café. I hope that all is well back in the states!

As the Acholi say, “apwoyo matek!”(Thank you very much) Thanks for reading!

Best,
Matt

Installment #3--Uganda Uganda (or look out Gulu, here I come!)

Uganda schools work in a slightly different way than in the states. As mentioned before, students go through seven years of primary education (P1-P7). At the end of P7, they sit for their national examination. If they pass, they are allowed to go on to secondary school. Here, there are six levels of education (S1-S6). S1-S4 are considered “O” level, or ordinary, and S5 and S6 are “A” level, or advanced. Students sit in S1-S4, and then have to take their next national exam. This exam includes everything they have studied in secondary school (including foods class) and is apparently pretty intense. If they are able to pass the test (many do not), then they can go on to S5 and S6 where students will receive a specialized education (to become a doctor, lawyer, teacher, engineer…) based upon their test scores. The curriculum that students learn is all determined by the Minister of Education for Uganda, and all students, no matter where they attend school, receive the same education.

By dinner time of our first day in Kampala, I was beat. Not only had my body not caught up with the eight hour time change, twenty plus hours of flying, and two (or three?—I was too confused to know for sure) sleepless nights, but we had also had a full day of classes and tours. Many people were in the same boat as I was, but we pushed through it to go to dinner at Sam’s. About twenty of us (any time there are twenty white people (muzungu) together in the same place it causes quite a spectacle) sat around a large table, shared various fantastic Indian dishes, had a few beers, and desperately tried to keep our eyelids open, our heads from hitting the table too hard when we had the nods, and the drool from making too large a puddle in front of us. Dinner was great, and of course, when we returned to the hostel that evening immediately following dinner, everyone caught his or her second wind. Damn. Another sleepless night.

Wednesday (the next day silly) held another experience and more travel. We started the morning by traveling to the Bavubuka Foundation’s house in Kampala (please check it out here www.bavubuka.com). In Luganda, Bavubuka means “the youth.” Silas, a famous Ugandan rapper decided that student needed a place to learn skills and participate in the arts so that they can help to foster respect for each other, desire (and affect) positive change in their world, and build community that looks toward growth. Students engage in art projects, singing, dancing, weaving, and many other activities at the house that is run by an all volunteer staff that subsists on donations. The organization is growing and, though they currently only have a house in Kampala, they have volunteers in many of Uganda’s larger cities. While we were there, we shared a few activities with the house volunteers so that they would be able to do them with their students.

After returning to the hostel and packing up, it was time to hit the road for Gulu. Yup, here it is, another woot woot! The trip to Gulu was made in a minibus that just barely contained the whole group (23 volunteers and 2 drivers). There are two seats along one side of the bus and one seat along the other side. When extra seats are needed (and they were), jump seats folded down to fill the aisle so that there were four seats across. I, of course, wound up in a jump seat (the leg room is honestly a big plus here). Unfortunately, the jump seats have very low backs, so that when I was actually (finally) ready to sleep, I had nowhere to put my head. It is almost impossible to prop your head up on your hands to sleep on a bumpy bus ride, so I wound up not getting any sleep yet again (except for the few minutes that I passed out on the shoulder of the guy next to me, drooled on the back of the person in front of me, and snored on the shoulder of the person to my left). The bus ride itself took a little over six hours, was fast, was slow, was highly erratic with the bus swerving from one shoulder to the other trying to avoid any multiple of the millions of large potholes along the route, and ultimately, a bit tedious. But finally, we arrived in Gulu. We had a fantastic meal prepared by a wonderfully sweet woman, Doreen, who is the chef at the Invisible Children’s House.

Installment #2--T.I.A. (This is Africa) Man--and a very long post

We spent the next two days in Kampala, the capital city of Uganda. Kampala is not like other capital cities that you have probably experienced. Uganda is a Lesser Developed Country (LDC), and poverty affects all but the very few privileged. This is definitely apparent in Kampala. There are many small buildings sprawled out along the streets selling almost anything you can imagine. Some of the buildings are solid brick structures that house large general stores and others are small shacks, shoddily constructed out of wood, corrugated metal, and whatever else can be found. Many of the large buildings are covered in large painted advertisements for phone companies, soft drinks, or paints. The advertisements add to the brilliant color palette of the city. Kampala is also a rather busy city. There are people walking, riding bikes, on motorcycles, in vans, and they are all competing for road space with each other and the large delivery trucks that frequent the streets. If you are at all squeamish about reckless driving (Mom, Em-this is you), then it is advisable that you travel with your eyes closed. In Kampala, the horn is a safety feature on most vehicles that rivals seat belts and airbags for importance.

While in Kampala, the group had several workshops intended to inform us about the situation in Uganda as well as prepare us for our cultural exchanges. Our first full day included heading out to the U.S. Embassy, Traveling to Garden City, visiting Lubiri Secondary School, and dinner at Sam’s Indian Restaurant. At the Embassy, we met a general representative of the embassy, a women working for the education program of U.S. Aid, and two gentlemen working for the Refugee program at the embassy. The discussion we had brought up several of the complexities of Education in Uganda. The country has Universal Primary Education for all students, meaning that there are no school fees for primary school. Students take seven years of primary school (P1-P7), after which they take a Country Exam that will determine if they can pass to Secondary School. Though Education is free through P7, many students cannot attend because they do not have the money to pay for school uniforms or other essentials. Secondary School is not free in Uganda yet, so more students do not attend. School fees typically run from $500 to $600 a year, which is more than much of Uganda can afford (especially if there are multiple children in a family). Girls also face struggles in education. Because of a lack of sanitary supplies (and sometimes knowledge), when a girl begins puberty, she usually has to miss several days of school a month. Because girls begin missing so much school, they eventually have to drop out. Another complication is brought about as a result of the war and the displacement of people and schools. With the displaced people beginning to move back to parishes (halfway camps between the villages and IDP’s where people can still live as a community as they get their villages up to snuff) and there villages (where schools currently are not operating), they are forced to leave their children behind. Sometimes families will leave older children to fend for themselves so that they can continue in school, and other times children will live with foster parents in the camps or towns (and sometimes on an impromptu notice). This leads to issues of neglect and abuse.

Garden City was a large shopping mall in Uganda where we got lunch and changed our money for the trip. Because so few in Gulu have much money in hand (and are therefore unable to make change), it is necessary to break large bills into much smaller denominations. I ran from store to store purchasing as many small things as necessary (mangos, bananas, a notepad…) to make as much change as possible. I also stopped and had a quick (really, nothing is quick in Uganda—meals are usually made one at a time, and delivered as they are finished—it is not unusual to wait an hour for a sandwich and finish eating it before your friend receives it) lunch. I ordered a Coke, which the restaurant apparently did not have (but didn’t say either), so after taking my order, the gentleman from the restaurant ran next door to pick up a coke from the neighboring restaurant (he also did this to get change—which is called the balance in Uganda—when I paid for my meal).

After Garden city, the whole group headed over to Lubiri Secondary School, one of the higher performing schools in Uganda. We met first with the Head teacher of the school who told us a little bit more about Lubiri and Education in general. After that, we were unleashed into the teacher’s room where we met and talked with several teachers. One of the teachers (and I cannot unfortunately remember his name) took a small group of us out to show us several classes. As we toured the open-air classrooms, one thing was apparent. Even though class sizes reached upwards of 100 students, the students were much disciplined and intent on learning. The teacher giving us the tour actually had students working on projects while he had left to come meet us. After being out of his room for forty minutes or so, he walked back in, (as the students worked together on physics questions—not a single student goofing) and introduced us. We talked with several students at their desks, and soon left to visit other classrooms. We saw a biology class, a foods class, a computer class (there was a computer lab at Lubiri—a luxury most schools do not have), a fine arts class, and a few others. All the while, we were discussing the educational system in Uganda with our new teacher-friend.