Surreal but nice…

 

One of my all time favourite movies. Hugh Grant, Julia Roberts. Ordinary guy, famous girl. And a quirky Welsh guy with doubtful hygiene habits.

So this week I can identify with Hugh Grant's 'surreal but nice' sentiment. Two weeks ago my mum and sister descended into my Uganda life and this morning they flew out again after a 4am wakeup and early morning drive to Entebbe.

Last week you left us arriving in Mbarara after our time in Kampala. This week was more touristing exploring Mbarara, checking out some of our Australia HOPE International projects in the area and generally relaxing.

I'm hoping that next week after Nat sends me her photos I'll have some good ones to show you, after borrowing dad's camera, she forgot to put in the card reader and the USB connection which means she'll have to send them to me once she's home.

In the meantime you will have to make do with mum's and mine. While they are immensely inferior camera's we never the less managed to get some pretty good shots between us. I think it's also the quantity as well as the quality that makes dad's camera attractive. Snap, snap, snap…

the Trust boys home next to HOPE Trust Primary School at Kakoba

checking out the farming project

mum meeting her sponsor child

learning how to cook on a charcoal stove

found some coffee… and a cow

making new friends and going grocery shopping

at the older boys home with a few new instruments for their band – all the way from Australia

trying out the new instruments

another lunch at Ritah’s place

the view from home and walking back up the hill is hard

saying goodbye to everyone at home

So they’re gone. It was lovely having them here, if slightly bizarre. Surreal but nice does sum it up I guess. I’ll see them in another six months or so. The year of my year to indefinite is half over. It’s gone quickly and I have a feeling that the next six months will also fly by. Have to say though that it’s been the best six months, looking forward to the adventures of the next six. Got to make the most of it.

Blessings

bron

Don’t forget to check out the Australia HOPE International website for more info about what I’m doing here.

Tourists…

 

When I'm home in Australia I live in a town called Victor Harbor. It's a fairly small town - although we are officially a city - with a population of around 12 000 people. It's situated on the coast, has good surf beaches nearby, attracts whales in the winter and, whether in the actual town or around the area, has great places to eat. It is relaxed, not too hot, not too cold.

Therefore, because of our proximity to Adelaide, we attract our fair share of tourists. In summer our population can double and that doesn't take into account day trippers. Having grown up in Victor I have seen the way that tourism (or the lack of it) affects our town, for both good and bad.

Locals tend to take offence at the tourists (called terrorists by some) taking their parking spaces at the shopping centre. Also offensive is the amount of traffic on the roads, the number of people in shops, the queue at the checkout etc. It seems that the very industry that keeps our town alive is a burden to them.

I, on the other hand, lament winter and it's coldness chasing away our guests. You can't go out after eight to eat (anywhere other than Macca's), can't get a coffee with friends, there are no festivals, no fun, no atmosphere. Even if you work full time in summer, it can feel like you are on holidays. But winter tends to make me sad (never mind the extreme cold - yes I know it's not that bad but I really am enjoying Uganda's idea of cold).

So I feel I am well acquainted with tourism.

Since my mum and sister arrived last week on Wednesday, we have spent most of our time in Kampala and arrived in Mbarara on Monday of this week. Mum and Nat are terrible tourists. Even if they bring their cameras along, it tends to be me telling them to take a photo. To be fair, in Kampala, I'm not exactly the best tour guide as I don't know my way around that well. But we did manage to get to a craft market, eat fried Tilapia (fished from Lake Victoria) and visit a cultural dance show.

For my part I enjoyed my first coffee in almost six months (or maybe several of them including a very nice affogato) and going to Aristoc bookstore, which until I find something else, remains my favourite place to visit in Kampala.

On our travels to Mbarara we also crossed the equator (where we did get the first photos I've ever stopped there for) and saw a few zebras, unless that is meant to be zebra like sheep, in which case we saw a few zebra.

We visited a couple of our HOPE schools, Ebenezer in Kitookye village and Trust in Kakoba. As kids are on school holidays we didn't really find anyone there, except our P7 class doing holiday revision with their teachers in Kitookye. Unfortunately the boys from the Trust home were not there when we visited. We will however see them on Saturday when we visit the other boys home.

So it's been fun playing the tourist and tour guide. Yesterday when we went into a shop the guy packing our groceries assumed that we were both tourists. After finding out that my sister with her terribly impressive camera was not a journalist. I guess I need to shop there more often.

Can't quite believe they have been here a week and have less than a week to stay. At least we are not trying to get out to see animals. That would take up a significant chunk of time and after all, they have now seen zebra/s. Also can't quite believe that next week when I publish my blog they will be gone.

So I will make the most of their time here and enjoy every minute of it. Life tends to be more fun that way. Give it a try.

Have a blessed week

bron

Remembrance

 

It's funny how the actions you take can affect the decisions other people make. I never really thought that by coming to Uganda, I could change the decisions of people I left behind in Victor Harbor. I am talking specifically about my sister who was never interested at all in coming to Africa. And yet this week she and my mum are arriving to visit me. If I had not come for this extended stay, there is no doubt in my mind that neither of them would ever have come here.

So I am slightly excited. Kathy and Nat are coming to stay for two weeks and I am looking forward to showing them around the bits of Kampala I know (maybe even exploring a bit beyond that!) and then coming to Mbarara so that they can see where I have been working, meet the people I have met, experience some of the things I have experienced and visit some of our HOPE schools and sites (even though it's school holidays).

It's been an opportunity for me to reflect on all the things that have been normalised for me since coming here and to try and think about what it was that shocked, overwhelmed and astounded me when I first arrived the first time I came here in 2008. I was with a team of people, some who had been before, so possibly our experiences will be different. But I think that if you are from a western country any time you come to a place where 35% of the population live below the poverty line you will find some differences.

I remember the sight of flying in over water to Entebbe at dusk, not captured so well in the photos I tried to take, but it felt magical.

I remember the smell and feel of the air as I stepped off the plane. It was thick. Now I love being warm and I love the tropics. When I visited Darwin I enjoyed the weather. It's not for everyone, I know, but for me, it makes me happy.

I remember the confusion of all the taxi drivers vying for our custom at the door of the airport (especially for this large group of muzungu) and the cloud of smoke that accompanied them.

I remember the street stalls that we passed on our way to Kampala and the traffic that we encountered. Traffic is a big experience. Whether you're stopped in the middle of a jam or negotiating the non-indication of turning, it's definitely different to what I'm used to and, now that I drive here, always an adventure.

I remember the sound of people yelling 'Muzungu' as we walked past. Coming from country where it's not very PC to call someone 'black' let alone yell it at them as they walk down the street, the irony of going to a country where if you are white you are in the minority and children and adults alike will remind you of it as you walk by, was not lost on me. Other favourites to tell people are that they are fat and old. Imagine. As a side note, pretty sure in Australia you'll never see a sign that says 'For weight gain call…..'.

I remember that kids loved us because we were white and would flock to us, especially in the more rural areas. Except for the ones that screamed and cried when they saw us. I remember the feelings of inadequacy when approached by people asking for money for school fees, rent, food… Some even asked for a job. This is a constant and results from the perception that all whites have money, which I guess in most cases is quite true.

I remember seeing police, army, security guards all holding rifles or semi automatic weapons. Like in the carpark of a shopping centre.

I remember the food. Most of it I loved. Things I had never seen before. Things that I wasn't sure were meant to be eaten.

I remember going into the Garden City mall in Kampala and thinking that that was where all the whites were hiding. In the air-conditioned comfort and security, sipping their lattes (although who am I to talk? I love the place!).

I remember being overwhelmed on seeing the HOPE schools and being so grateful that in some small way I was a part of what they were doing. I hope I never lose that sense of gratitude at being part of something that is so much bigger than anything I could do on my own.

I remember going to the street boys project where the boys put on a concert for us. I remember meeting Kiiza at the home who told me that his shoes were too small (the ends were slit so his toes could poke out). I remember once again feeling helpless to do anything (when I came home, remembering that helpless feeling, I found his profile so I could sponsor him).

I remember going to Nakivale Refugee Settlement and thinking that I wasn't anything like I imagined. It wasn't like the images from the news. It was more like a village. But a village of people from different backgrounds and places that had nothing in common and for the most part didn't want to have anything in common. Each nationality in their own area. A village of people resigned to live far from their homes, many of whom, although their hearts were in another country, would not want to go back there if offered.

I remember meeting Mandela in Nakivale and the impact that he had on me. A young man of 16 who had lived in the camp since he was 6. An intelligent and caring kid who wanted to study but has probably not had the opportunity even up to now. He could speak 7 languages and wanted to be a pastor when he grew up.

I remember the cultural norms that I couldn't quite get my head around (some of them I still can't!). Things that went against the grain for someone who has grown up in a culture that often dictates things that are quite contrary. Our Aussie 'non-culture' while seemingly subtle when surrounded by it, but ingrained never-the-less, can have quite a kick when challenged I have found.

I remember the joy of handing out balloons to kids who were excited to get them. To find the same joy in a kid at home, it would have to be a REALLY good present (maybe that's slightly cynical but it's not far from the truth).

I remember feeling heartsick that I might never come back as we left certain places.

I remember the feeling of being at home yet not being able to understand the language. I think this played a major role in my coming back here.

I remember sitting in my office back home and having the somewhat unexpected reaction of wanting to punch many of those I came into contact with. Not being a violent, or even an expressively emotional person, this side-affect of reverse culture shock, certainly shocked me.

As I said, I'm looking forward to showing Mum and Nat around, but maybe more than that, I'm looking forward to seeing things through their eyes and seeing their reaction to this place that I love.

I hope to continue with my (mostly) Wednesday deadline but if I do miss a week please forgive me. I promise to make it up by taking lots of photos of the bazungu I will be hanging out with and showing them to you.

Have a blessed week (I know mine already is!)

bron