CHOGM

Since I have arrived in Kampala I have been flooded with information about CHOGM. For all of my fellow non-Anglophiles out there CHOGM (an acronym- quel surprise!) stands for Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting and is held once a year at a Commonwealth member country. This year Uganda, and Kampala to be more specific, has been graced with the honor of hosting the Queen and her brethren and the country is doing its best to make the mothership proud. Potholes are being filled, flowers planted, hotels by the dozens constructed, and not a day goes by without a CHOGM editorial or article in the paper. For example, today’s headlines, wedged between full page spreads titled “South Africa Gives Uganda Two Black Rhinos” and “Strapless Bra: A Must-Have For Every Woman,” read “36 Immigration Officers Get Security Tactics For CHOGM,” “Hotels Target 6,000 Rooms,” and “Ministry Spends sh1billion TO Boost Tourism.” Billboards featuring pictures of prominent Ugandan leaders and the catchy phrase “I am ready for CHOGM- are you?” line the streets (a catchphrase that has been endlessly mocked by both Ugandans and expats- see photo at left) and the dollar is on a continuous decline as the pound steadily rises. Sure, the new hotels look like they could crumble any moment, the potholes are only chosen on streets that the fortunate few might find themselves on and the flowers have taken much needed money away from the vulnerable poor but anything in the name of the Elizabeth II right? What makes everything better is the urgency involved with the whole process. Keep in mind all of my talk of “African time” and perhaps you will be as surprised as I was to learn that her majesty does not descend until you all are enjoying your decadent meal of turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. That’s right- unlike my fellow Americans I will not be spending the weekend of November 22nd watching a variety of college football games and instead will be trying to get a glimpse of a descendant of the man the pilgrims were escaping (actually I will be on the beaches of Mozambique but you get the picture).

As I have already hinted I believe CHOGM is both good and bad for the country. Considering today's New York Times featured the first two articles about Uganda in nearly 8 months and the articles told the stories of the recent Marburg Virus outbreak and a bus crash over the weekend which killed 72 people, it seems pretty clear that the country can use all of the good publicity it can get. While it is great that it will undoubtedly bring in revenue for the country, I wonder whether all of the hoopla is worth it. Kampala’s infrastructure is shaky to begin and the amount of construction and preparation involved in preparing for the blessed event would be difficult on a stable country so I can’t help but wonder which is going to win: Uganda or CHOGM. If the roundabout at the bottom of my road is any indication, my vote is CHOGM as the two traffic controllers that have tried to turn the circle into square which has caused a constant gridlock state and I can only presume will grow worse as it links town’s four major roads as well as the road to the conference center and meeting point of the heads of government. Ugandans are at best ambivalent towards the whole thing (rumors of a national holiday week in celebration of the festivities has recently raised spirits) as joys of a national pride have been replaced with questions about why only a minimal amount of Ugandans seem to be benefiting from the billions of shillings being taken away from schools, welfare, health care and other government programs and put into flowers alongside the Queen’s path. I can’t help but think that if the government and media put half of the money and focus currently being placed on the meetings into development programs that would last for longer than a week than maybe some of Uganda’s problems could actually be fixed.

Favorite thing about my job

While enjoying some drinks (I found a place in Kampala that knows how to make a dirty martini!) with some friends last night we got into the subject of what our favorite thing about our current life was. Definitely something I would like to document and read later I thought I would share my response with you.

"The fact that it has made me more informed." Let me clarify that statement a bit. Each day since I have been in Uganda in addition to reading the variety of reports that I have edited I have read three newspapers each morning (New Vision, the Ugandan government sponsored daily, the Daily Monitor, an independent Ugandan daily, and The New York Times, online of course). Not to say that I was ignorant in the States, but one of the glories of being an expat is I think you become inherently more observant of both your own country and your surroundings because you have been stripped of your "comfort zone." While in America it is often easy for me to get trapped in my small little world and not question my beliefs because I don't have to, here that isn't really an option. My job is to question programs and regimes and to find ways to make them better so each day I am forced to come up with a million educated responses to questions that would have completely overwhelmed me a year ago. For example, I recently got into a debate with a friend about the superiority of the VSLA model, (Village Savings and Loans Associations) first developed by CARE and as of last year the method supported by Plan in our communities, over the SACCO (Savings and Credit Co-Operative) one, the former choice of Plan and current choice of the likes of Jeffery Sachs' UN Millennium Villages (http://www.unmillenniumproject.org/), as the microfinance regime for the vulnerable poor. It felt like an out of body experience as I argued my points (VSLA doesn't require any minimums in an effort to encourage building the habit of saving- in other words it doesn't matter how much you invest but rather that you understand the importance of saving, sound familiar Princeton Annual Giving office?-, members work with their own assets and not with loan liabilities, members become part of small support groups fostering close, personal ties and a sense of trust that allows more faith in the system, etc.) because never in a million years would I have believed that I would know so much and have such a strong opinion about microfinance schemes. A similar case could be made for pretty much any of the projects I continue to read about because they make me question both why Plan is in the right and why the counter-argument is wrong. As I mentioned before, this curiousity also expands far beyond the work place. I have taken more a vested interest in the U.S. Presidential candidates because I now have much stronger beliefs in what it is I am looking for in my government. I want to know what the Ugandan government is doing to help or harm our programs. I want to know about other issues in the world (one of my companions last night mentioned that she is much more likely to read a book about Hugo Chavez here than at her home in London) because they somehow seem more pertinent to my everyday existence. Somehow since everything here is a challenge and different from my background it makes me more likely to seek new challenges and explore new ideas. I guess you could say that I have officially caught the "expat bug."

A few words about that. I think a common misconception is that the "expat bug" means that someone is inherently dissatisfied, fed up with, or not proud of America- a statement that I wholeheartedly disagree with. If anything, being abroad has made me more proud of being an American because I have quickly come to realize the guarantee of rights afforded to me as a citizen of the U.S. that are not afforded to the majority of the world. Sure I have also perhaps become a bit more critical as I have looked at the country from an outsider's perspective, however I don't think that has anything to do with pride- instead it is all about a heightened focus on how to make it better. I have always been taught to question everything, not take anything at face value without a thorough analysis, and that critics are what make things stronger so I don't understand why that same train of thought doesn't apply to my feelings about my country. No matter how long I stay abroad I will always consider myself an American (and a proud one at that) and not a member of a "lost generation" (a term by the way that had much more to do with World War I than patriotism) so I hope that I can help squash the common misconception of expats as unpatriotic and instead try and prove the opposite: that we are the true patriots trying to spread the real "American dream" to millions of people across the world who are not as lucky to have been born in America as we were.

Change of pace

For a change of pace I thought I might take the focus off of me for a moment and instead turn it to a frequent debate I have been having with others about the nature of international development. Beautifully articulated by Nicholas Kristof in his column in today's New York Times (http://select.nytimes.com/2007/08/09/opinion/09kristof.html?hp), there has been much scholarly debate recently about the positive and negative effects of the large Western presence in third world countries. Kristof focuses on the issue of foreign aid (something which he is obviously a large supporter of), however I believe the arguments extend far beyond money to a matter of principle: is the growing dependence of developing countries on the Western world more helpful or harmful to the countries' well-being?

I haven't developed my own answer to that question yet. I am still absorbing and wrestling arguments with counter-arguments while also trying to do as much first-hand research as possible but thought that I would share some of my thoughts. Since I am not an economist (sorry Aunt Barb) and instead found my academic passion in American history it should not be surprising that I was not as convinced by Kristof's frequent mention of prominent economists' beliefs as I was by an argument involving a comparison between the current post-colonization state of third world countries and the early American republic. First mentioned to me by the Country Director of a very prominent maternal health NGO in Kampala at a casual dinner, the idea is that a little over 200 years ago America was not all that dissimilar to the third world. Having just won our independence from colonial rule, America was forced to start fresh and on its own feet. We didn't rely on forced French, British, or any other European aid- in fact, economic independence was one of the main instigators of the revolution. It may have taken several bumps along the way, including the persecution of an entire race and a war over that wrongful persecution, however here we stand, two centuries later, (arguably) as the world's greatest super power. If the Western world had played a more prominent role in the early Republic (for example, had we lost the War of 1812) would the U.S. be the superpower that it is? We did it on our own, the woman argued, so why can't they? Here is my critique of that argument: first, I truly believe that being in the 21st century is entirely different than being in the 18th century. In the age of globalization the stark contrasts between the haves and have-nots becomes all the more apparent. Next, I think it is important to consider the fact that the majority of new Americans were of Western European descent, meaning that they undoubtedly had the benefit of understanding the infrastructure of how Western Europe was able to be so successful and could therefore translate it to their new nation. Third world residents, on the other hand, do not have that same benefit. If the Native Americans had triumphed over the Europeans than I think the argument would carry more weight. Nevertheless, I do believe that the comparison is worthy of some serious thought and reflection.

Next I would like to examine the "humanitarian" argument. Blame it on my recent fascination with the West Wing and the fact that I have just hit the Kundu crisis (for all those West Wing virgins out there it is a situation very similar to that of Rwanda in 1994 as a massive "ethnic cleansing" genocide takes place) but I also have been thinking a lot of the Western world's obligation to the third world. I mean that is what brought me to Africa in the first place, right? The fact that, for the most part, not only are we responsible for their plight, but also as the world's superpower it is our ethical duty to give back? This is a question that I grapple with on a daily basis and was the subject of my dinner conversation with my roommate last night. I mentioned to her that over the past couple of days I have come to accept the fact that I don't really have a "job description." I mentioned to her that given the variety of the tasks that I am asked to perform it has occurred to me that my main purpose in the office is to serve as a liaison to the Western world. I can read things and translate them into "Western" English. I have been blessed (or cursed depending on how you look at it) with a Western work ethic and that has probably been my roughest challenge while being here- trying not to let my frustrations with the inefficiency of Africans ("Africa time" really is a wonder) overcome my efficiency. Just because a Ugandan woman I deal with cannot multitask does not mean that I can't, or shouldn't. But then the internal debate starts again: if I am in fact just around for my "Western" influence then how are the Ugandans ever going to learn to become "Western"? Are we really teaching them how to be successful in the 21st century or just merely doing the work ourselves? Does that mean we will never leave the third world- or that if we do we will have accomplished nothing? This is where principles come back in. Yes, Kristof is right that we would all buy that extra malaria net for the Grandmother but isn't that different than re-writing a "Ugandan English" email so someone in the Netherlands can properly understand it? I can tell you first hand that I am amazed at the amount that I have been able to accomplish over the past two weeks but also am somewhat alarmed as well because it just goes to show how dependent Ugandans are on Westerners. I am even fortunate in that Plan is stacked with many productive, work-oriented Ugandans so my experience has actually been better than many of my peers, however that just makes me more puzzled and concerned.

As you can see this is a very tricky subject as this is just the tip of the iceberg (or my immediate thoughts). I welcome any and all responses/critiques/opinions of anything that I have said and I urge you all to wrestle with some of the ideas I have been- while often challenging and frustrating, I have also found the internal debate actually quite comforting (although have also figured out that I most likely will never be able to come up with an answer).

"And She's Riding a Boda To Heaven"

Zeppelin may have spoken about buying a "Stairway to Heaven" but I am going to argue that had the song been written in Uganda, the lyrics would have been changed to "and she's riding a Boda to heaven." Allow me to explain.

As I believe I have mentioned before my main method of transport while in the country has been a "boda boda," or a glorified motorcycle taxi. The name originated from a need to transport people across the Kenyan-Ugandan border without necessary paperwork during the reign of Idi Amin. To give you an idea of the kind of English I hear and read everyday, the drivers shouts of "border border" quickly became miscontrued as "boda boda" and so began one of the major forms of transportation within the country. Now onto my story (ies).

Knock on wood I have had great Boda luck while in the country. While definitely the fastest form of transportation (their ability to weave in and out of traffic jams, a very notorious element of Kampala culture, means that even if they weren't the cheapest form of efficient travel I would still potentially consider making them my dominant form of transportation), they are also inarguably the most dangerous as helmets are not involved and there is little protecting you from the combination of crazy boda driving antics, potholes, speed bumps and the horrific driving capabilities of Kampala residents. (Don't worry, Mom, it only gets worse). Nevertheless, as I said, I have had exceptionally good luck.

That was until last Thursday. One of the perks of Plan, my company, is that they offer a free shuttle in the evenings so everyday at 5:15 I can be found in a somewhat sketchy looking white van with all of the other employees who are too low on the totem pole to afford a car singing along to a selection of Dolly Parton, Celine Dion and Kenny Rogers' greatest hits (all Ugandan favorites). After about a half an hour ride the shuttle drops me off at a boda stop that is about a five minute ride from home, I catch a boda, and all is well in the world. That is unless rain is involved. As I think I have mentioned before, it has been exceptionally rainy here for the past week or so and while we may experience an hour or so of sunshine a day that is not enough to dry up the reddish brown puddles that line the streets. But who needs sunshine when you can have a boda rider accomplish the same thing? Long story short, my boda got a little too close to a ten wheeler truck at a roundabout and the contents of said puddle ended up all over me, my white skirt, and my button down shirt, resulting in an emergency shower and me being late to my dinner date.

And again it gets worse. When I woke up the next morning the city was in the middle of one of its torrential downpours. Since they generally only last about an hour or so and riding an open motorcycle in the pouring rain is about as much fun as going to the Dentist (sorry Dr. Grapel), I decided to wait it out. An hour later the rain continued to come down in buckets and I was getting dangerously close to being ridiculously late for work so I put on my rain suit (greatest packing decision ever), packed my clothes in Ziploc bags within a plastic bag within my purse within another plastic bag slid on my rubber moccasins and headed out to partake in my first "quintessentially Ugandan" experience of riding a boda in the rain. After about a 10 minute search I finally tracked down an open bike and off we went on the 7 minute ride to the office.

With the exception of being soaking wet and having to go on a very long, indirect route because of the flooding, everything was going fine until we hit the road my office is on. Forewarned of the massive flooding by the parked trucks and 4 by 4s along the side of the road, my driver decided to nip the problem in the bud and take a "shortcut" along a back road. Not really thinking much of it (as a non-driver I often am amazed at the knowledge Kampala drivers have of back roads in any district), I happily was along for the ride. As we turned a corner reminscent of those at the beginning of Tuxedo Road, I was alarmed to feel my trusty rubber mocs filling with a cold liquid. As I peeked my head out from behind my driver (who had previously been guarding my contacts from the pelting raindrops) I was alarmed to see a literal brown river directly in front of us. Not at all deterred the boda driver plowed on. Slowly the water seeped up past my waist level and suddenly I noticed my weight was no longer on the bike- instead I was merely floating alongside the driver, anxiously grabbing onto his bike that was no longer able to touch the ground, in the flooded street. Being the American Red Cross Level 7 swimmer I am, I was not at all alarmed that the water was neck level and instead simply swam to the end of the monstrous "puddle" and into someone's dry, elevated driveway. The boda driver followed suit, hopped back on his bike, and urged me to do the same. Giving him a look that can only be considered one of concurrent disdain and admiration for his resolve, I couldn't help but smile as his waterlogged bike clearly would not start. He beckoned the guard in the driveway to come help him and I waited for a half an hour in the rain as the two men took the bike apart, poured water out of various parts that I never would have known existed, and finally miraculously got the bike started again. 5 minutes later, and 2 hours after we started the adventure, I was in my office- much to the amusement of my startled co-workers who took equal delight in my rain suit and my wet and muddy self. All I can say is thank goodness for the Ziploc and plastic bags which kept my "work clothes" completely dry and clean. Ziploc, if you ever need an endorsement let me know, and Uganda, stop the ban on plastic bags. They may be horrible for the environment but they are great for wet boda riders.

You would think that that would be enough Boda adventure for two days but no- this was not a case of "third time is the charm." Taking the phrase "get right back on the bike" literally, after a delicious calzone at the NY Kitchen (a little taste of heaven) in the middle of another rainstorm, I left the restaurant and headed directly for the boda stage. After teling the driver where I was headed (the opposite direction from where he was pointing), he swung the boda around and attempted to cross the median. A usually normal occurrence, unfortunately this boda driver was less than qualified to perform such a maneuver and missed the dip in the concrete meant for the bike's tire and instead just plowed into the cement. I guess I should mention at this point that Stuart was behind me on the bike (double boda-ing is a common, cheaper occurrence) and the weight of both of us was too much for the bike to handle. What happened next therefore should not be a surprise as the front tire of the bike lifted off the ground and Stuart and I ended up in a puddle. Luckily there was no damage other than a minor scratch on Stuart's ankle and more reddish brown goo on yet another one of my very few outfits, however going "3 for 3" in the boda disaster race has seriously caused me to try and figure out other modes of transportation- although the combination of my inability to drive a stick shift and the lack of a subway system means my search is probably in vain and instead I should just plan on investing in a helmet and continuing to pray. The devout Christianity of this country is suddenly starting to make a lot of sense...

Now that I have ensured that Mom won't sleep for weeks (a daughter's one and only goal in life), I think I will talk a little bit about my job and the pros and cons of working at a big, established NGO. The biggest pro about it is that you never have to worry about money; the biggest con is that you always have to worry about money. Let me clarify. Much like any other business, Plan is dominated by bureaucracy. The way the organization works is very similar to the food chains I learned about in ninth grade biology. At the top of the chain is International Headquarters ("IH" in acronym-dominated Plan speak), located in Surrey, England, as they basically decide who gets, needs, wants or deserves money. Below them are the National Offices ("NOs"), located in the US, Canada, Japan, Australia, Western Europe, etc., which is where the majority of the money comes from, either from sponsors, grants, organizations like USAID, CIDA, AusAid or other donors. Last come the Country Offices ("COs"), the third world outposts like Plan Uganda, which are the actual recipients of the funds. While this seems like a logical food chain, the problem comes with the fact that IH has recently decided that COs and NOs should not speak to one another and instead everything should go through IH. The result has been a giant game of telephone, as what would have generally been one conversation has been converted into three, and the consequences have been enormous as we have started our new financial year without any funds. Given that our programs clearly need money to be sustained, Plan Uganda has been trying its best to get the necessary funds to the necessary groups however when we haven't received anything other than a promised budget it is incredibly hard to do so. Many of our programs, including legal aid to women, medical care to children and HIV positive pregnant women, and school programs for at-risk children, cannot afford to be stopped and restarted so we have been put in the incredibly tricky position of trying to figure out how to keep these programs going with no guarantee of when we will see actual money. A very frustrating situation, I can't decide which is worse: having the money but not having access to it or not having the money at all.

More pictures to come once the rain stops and I no longer worry about water damage to my camera...