Sipi Falls

After a brief day in the office, a delicious pizza dinner with the two other Princeton in Africa fellows in Kampala and a very short night's sleep, I headed out to Mount Elgon National Park at 5 am on Saturday morning to see the notoriously beautiful Sipi Falls. Located right on the Kenyan border, Sipi consists of a series of 4 waterfalls in a row and is rumored to be the most beautiful waterfall in the country (a bold claim considering there are many).

A quick stop at the bus park taught us that the only bus option wasn't leaving for at least an hour (the way Ugandan public transport works is that instead of following a schedule buses and matatus just leave when full which can take several hours, especially when a bus is absolutely empty as this one was) and smelled particularly like urine, so instead we decided to brave the taxi park and take a matatu (a minibus for 14). An hour later (the matatu was almost half full when we got there which looked promising as we were a group of 6 but it still took an hour for another 2 people to get on board) we were on our way.

About 5 hours later we arrived at Crows Nest campsite, a rustic retreat right across from the first fall (view below). A bit overwhelmed by our travels, we decided to take a quick break, eat some of our packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (at least 5 per person are an essential of budget travel) and play a game of Phase 10 (Jeff and Leah's go everywhere card game). We were also joined by a new friend: Triple P (the perfectly proportionate pooch). The smallest puppy I have ever seen yet also the most proportionate as his paws were as small as his shoulders. It truly was bizarre.

After that momentary pause (keep in mind our early start meant that even with a two hour break it still was not even 2 pm) we left our new friend for a little and headed off on a walking tour of the surrounding village. The landscape was absolutely beautiful- everyone kept remarking how great it felt to be in fresh air- but I think we all would agree the highlight of the stroll was when we were approached by a very excited nurse with a three hour old baby. A remarkable sight in itself- especially since the new mother was standing right beside her quietly not at all seeming like she had just given birth- we were especially flabbergasted when the nurse asked us to name the baby. Terror in our eyes we graciously responded that we were honored but thought that the mother should get that privilege. The nurse persisted however so finally we all looked at each other and tentatively offered the name Grace, figuring it kept in line with the Christian nature of the country. There were smiles all around and I guess I can cross "naming another person's child" off my list of things to do in life.

Figuring naming a baby was a great way to end our day, we headed back to the campsite for dinner and a game of Apples to Apples before our exhaustion got the better of us at about 8:30. We are a really exciting bunch. It was up with the sun the next morning as we had a lot of hiking ahead of us. After a breakfast of the biggest chapati I have ever seen, Alex, our friendly guide, led us to the first fall. Definitely the most extraordinary of them all, it was just as beautiful as expected (see picture at top of post). After that hike we explored a bat cave (scary!) and then went for a swim in an ice cold pool (here is Ryan diving in) and chatted with some kids (here is Carrie showing them the pictures she had taken.) As a sidenote, kids here LOVE digital cameras. They eagerly pose for "snaps" and then are incredibly excited, enthralled and mystified to see themselves in the small screen. After our swim the time had come to return to Kampala so back to the campsite we went and a matatu and bus ride later (complete with turkeys this time- maybe for Thanksgiving?) we were back in the big city.

Jinja retreat

I was feeling much much better by Tuesday morning- just in time for my two day workshop on program coordination and quality in Jinja. An annual occurrence, the meeting offers the whole program staff of Plan Uganda (the entire Country Office team with the exception of the secretaries and HR people and those we work most with in the field) the chance to gather and discuss how to make our programs better. Usually held at the Hotel Colline, a small conference joint just off of the main highway where the "best view" rooms overlook the parking lot and not the garbage bins, this year it was held at the Jinja Nile Resort, the swankiest resort in Jinja, and each participant was given his or her own bungalow overlooking the Nile. This decision sparked much controversy in the office as many didn't understand why the organizer felt a "retreat" atmosphere was necessary for total reflection, but not surprisingly I was quite happy with it. While the resort may be next door to the campsite I generally stay at while in Jinja, it literally felt a world away with its king size beds, surround showers and closets. It also is not every day I get to take my morning run along the Nile, watch CNN and take a dip in a resort-sized pool. See view above.

We arrived just as the sun was setting on Monday night and all gathered for a buffet dinner on a balcony overlooking the Nile. Then it was off to bed in preparation for the long day of reflection and wisdom ahead. And a long day it was, although unfortunately not in the way the organizers had hoped. Instead of focusing on how to make things better, the 40 participants complained about Plan's faults and asked for salary increases as they didn't feel there was enough incentive for improvement. I should also mention that Ugandans love to talk so it felt like each person gave a 10 minute speech saying the exact same thing: human resources needs improvement. It really was stimulating, let me tell you. More frustrating than anything, though, was the fact that nothing seemed to be getting accomplished other than a communal dirty laundry airing session. Something I am sure that is not exclusive to Plan Uganda (or maybe even Africa), not capitalizing on the potential for change and positive achievement was beyond aggravating. A sentiment echoed in the eyes of the facilitator, the first day of the retreat suggested that maybe two days of total reflection on how to improve Plan programs was not possible.

The second day wasn't much better as the "action plans" constructed for the major weaknesses in program quality and coordination weren't exactly innovative. That said, plans were actually drafted, recorded by me, and there some good ideas on how to better manage the budget, better plan programs, better monitor and evaluate those programs, better involve and empower community members and work with partners so the workshop wasn't a complete waste. I do however still think the highlight of the day was when in the middle of a presentation about how to better manage our relationships with partner NGOs the microfinance advisor had the group break into a rousing rendition of "if you are happy and you know it." I sincerely hope you all have the opportunity to watch 40 colleagues touch their toes- it really is a priceless image.

Returned from Jinja, absolutely exhausted, just in time for quiz night (literally walked into the pub just as the first questions were being asked) where Baseball and Apple Pie once again came in a formidable 3rd. That warranted a brief trip to Steak Out for rock night, although made it an early night in preparation for my 6 am alarm and weekend's trip to Sipi Falls.

Fairy tales and boils

Lots and lots of traveling and excitement over the past couple of weeks so much to report.

First, Beth's 30th birthday bash on the Hairy Lemon. A Shrek-themed affair, the birthday girl went as Cinderella (dressing as the worker bee for the first half of the party, the princess for the second) while Sarah and I went as her ugly stepsisters. Equipped with our gorgeous outfits from the infamous trip to Owino Market the weekend before, I must say we all looked ravishing (and by ravishing I mean delightfully tacky) in magenta, lilac and kelly green taffeta don't you think? Image on the left is Sarah, worker Beth and me and that below is me, Esmerelda Leah, Princess Beth and Sarah.

The party was a complete success. With the exception of a very sketchy German couple who run a hostel on the Ssese Islands (about 3 hours off the coast of Kampala) and are alarmingly androgynous (the "woman" has a beard while the "man" sports a mullet and more earrings than anyone I have ever seen) everyone came in costume (and I suppose the Germans' daily clothing choices are pretty close to costumes anyway so maybe they can be let off the hook). There were fairy godmothers (both male and female), little red riding hoods (again both male and female), princesses, blind mice, puss 'n' boots and Tarzans everywhere. There was a royal feast of cheese, crackers and a roasted pig in the bar filled with twinkle lights and silver paper stars. People flocked from Kampala, Jinja, Zambia (fresh from the Zambezi) and even another island across the Nile (this group properly celebrating their arrival with Chinese firecrackers) and danced with glowsticks to everything from the Archies to Outkast to the Spice Girls. The power may have been off until a little before midnight (better to dance while a little inebriated anyway), the punch may have tasted like mouthwash and Sarah and my mojitos may have been a bit on the strong side but I only hope my 30th is half as innovative and fun.

The aftermath of the party was not as fun. As I lay on the beach the morning after I began to feel a little sick. Not thinking that it was anything other than the repercussions of the debaucherous night before I didn't even question the large painful red bump growing on my hip that had garnered the attention of my friends. I labelled it a bug bite and laughed with the crowd about my mysterious ailments (huge bruises all over my legs, bug bites, stomach that can't handle local food- really I have been a mess!) When I woke up on Monday morning, however, I felt absolutely awful. My eyes were swollen shut, my head hurt, my body ached, my fever grew and as I walked around my office my co-workers just said "sorry." I decided to go home at lunchtime to try and get myself better as the office was slow and I had a lot to prepare myself for in the coming days and really couldn't afford to be sick.

Re-enter the mysterious bump. Upon further examination, it came to my attention that the bump wasn't a bug bite but instead a boil- a glorified skin infection- and the infection had gotten into my bloodstream. I never would have thought of this but Carrie had just returned from Zanzibar with a severe ear infection and boil in her ear (aren't we a special bunch? some people get malaria- my friends and I get the obscure African illnesses) and the doctor had described similar symptoms. So, much to the envy of basically anyone I told (we are all freakishly obsessed with gross happenings here), I spent the remainder of the afternoon draining my boil with a hot compress, some Neosporin and gauze. I realize that this might sound scary and weird to those in the States but watching the white puss come out was actually one of the cooler things I have ever done. As I said before my standards have changed since living here- the grosser the disease the better. I am always looking to "up" others and think draining a boil trumps a parasite anyday. The large welt left on my hip was not quite as satisfying but not having swollen glands and having another story to enter in the "only in Africa" book certainly was.

Smorgasbord

So it has been about a week since I last posted and so thought I would share some of the random, unrelated events that have happened in the past week or so.

With the Queen's arrival just two weeks away the city is in full CHOGM preparation lock down. Traffic lights have been constructed, dividing lines drawn, sidewalks tarred, roads paved and a new army police force sponsored by the President fully equipped with AK47s and batons freely roam the streets. This is not to say that any traffic laws have actually changed- yes, we may now have medians, lights and stop signs but that certainly doesn't mean are being followed- and the only thing I have seen the SPC (new police) do is hop on the back of pickup trucks and direct cars into one another (three car pile up on the way to work this morning) but at least it all looks professional? So, while the favorite question for all Ugandans may be "are you ready for CHOGM" I think the real question should be "is CHOGM ready for Kampala?"

The past weekend was relatively uneventful. After a third place showing at quiz night (a personal best!) on Thursday night, Baseball and Apple Pie (my team) took it easy on Friday and Saturday nights and just hung out and chatted at Carrie's apartment. Friday night it seemed normal but must admit it was a little bizarre on Saturday as Carrie had left for Zanzibar with her parents and there Jeff, Leah, Ryan and I were relaxing on her porch. Her housemates must love us. The highlight of the weekend was definitely my four hour trip to Owino Market in the rain. Owino is unlike anything I have ever seen. I would have loved to take photos but actually like my digital camera and this is the type of place where it might not have made it home with me. Similar in construction to any other African market (a series of connected wooden, decrepit booths) but on a much larger scale, Owino sells anything and everything. Mostly second-hand Western stuff (think a Wal-Mart sale bin) some of the pieces found there are classic. There were t-shirts proudly boasting "Hitler's World Tour 1939-1945" and "Miami, Florida," a variety of clothing still equipped with "ValueMart $9.99" price tags and, my personal favorite, all sorts of Yankee paraphernalia. I was trekking in the mud, however, with a specific purpose: a ballgown for Bethany's Shrek-themed 30th birthday party at the Hairy Lemon this upcoming weekend for my role as ugly stepsister to the the birthday girl's Cinderella. An old market pro (she had already bought her Cinderella dress (es) earlier in the week and had even already been to the market that very same day!), Bethany guided me and Sarah through the 10+ booths of used prom dresses (sadly enough I actually could have bought my Junior year prom dress... again) to find our costumes. 4 hours of searching later Sarah ended up with a magenta taffeta creation while I found a purple silk skirt/corset top ensemble. Let me tell you- Plot 18A Kyadondo Road is going to look hot. I can hardly wait. Rainy Sunday (first day it has rained all day since I have been here) was spent in bed watching Heroes- my new TV show find. I really am going to miss being able to buy complete seasons of TV shows for $5. They may be bootleg but they are just as entertaining.

Work continues to be sort of slow. No big projects this week so have been doing a lot of other housekeeping (organizing my role as the chairperson of the Princeton Alumni School Committee of Uganda and preparing an alumni team to interview all of the Ugandan applicants this year, catching up on some longlost emails, etc.) while also editing some reports here and there. I also had my first (and second) U.S. embassy trip as I continue to try and change my alien status from "illegal" to "legal." Due to the Ministry bureaucracy, apparently my Visa application has been anything but smooth sailing and they insisted that I supply them with a criminal record form. Impossible to get outside of the country, the closest thing to an actual clearance I guess is a notarized letter from the Embassy. After confirming this with the Consular's office, I headed to the Embassy, letter in hand, at 7:30 on Monday morning. A 5 minute security check later I found myself back in America. From the air conditioning, to the door handles, to the "Men" and Women's" Bathroom signs to the smell of office air while inside the Embassy I felt as though I had just crossed the Atlantic. Ok, I realize this may sound ridiculous to all of you but keep in mind I have been in Africa for the past 5 months. If there are any bathroom signs at all they say "Ssebo" and "Nyabo" (sir and madam in Buganda), we barely have power let alone air conditioning and yes, we have door handles but not the shiny silver ones that dominate American office buildings. I was a happy camper. That is, of course, until the Consular told me that he couldn't notarize my letter because he was not authorized to perform a criminal record check and the letter I had written (a word-for-word translation of what his secretary had told me to write) was not up to par. Instead of allowing me to write a simple sentence ("I, Hilary Stenhouse Robinson, certify that I have never committed a crime") or printing it himself for me to sign, he told me I would have to leave the building and come back the next morning. And just like that I was back in Uganda. When I arrived again, sentence in hand, the following morning at 7:30 I was far less excited about the door handles.

Lots of travel on the horizon. In addition to Beth's party this weekend will be out of the office most of next week- taking pictures in the field for an upcoming publication on Monday and then at a conference for the country program support team in Jinja for Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. After that am headed to Sipi Falls (gorgeous series of waterfalls right on the Kenyan border in Mount Elgon National Park) and then am off to Senegal to visit Katie, one of my best friend's from Princeton, and to avoid the house arrest the Queen's visit would put me on. I live up the street from the British High Commissioner (and directly in between his house and the hotel his guests will be staying at) and just one street over from the Queen's hotel so my neighborhood is being quarantined for a week or so and we have all been told to escape if we can. Alas, I will enjoy my Thanksgiving turkey on the beach looking across the Atlantic so I can imagine what you all are doing. After I come back from my inaugural West Africa trip the next weekend is the kayak rodeo (a combination of a scavenger hunt/relay race/game/marathon) in Jinja so most likely will head up there and then will spend my final weekend before heading home for Christmas in Kampala watching the marathon. Where has the time gone?!! How is it already November? Can't believe I am home in 5 weeks. That is less than a summer at camp!

Suggested Africa reading material

Interesting editorial in today's New York Times which feeds into my earlier discussion about international aid: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/11/02/opinion/02fri1.html?_r=1&oref=slogin

A couple of months ago I read "Emergency Sex and Other Desperate Measures: A True Story From Hell on Earth," a book about the experiences of 3 UN workers in Cambodia, Rwanda, Somalia and Haiti during the early to mid '90s. The current "it" book among expats (although it was published more than 3 years ago) and while perhaps a bit overly dramatic at time, I highly recommend reading it to understand what it is like to work in not only a third world country but also a disaster area.

Other good African literature that I have read while here: "Acts of Faith" by Philip Caputo, "The Constant Gardener" by John Le Carre, "Purple Hibiscus" by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, "We Wish To Inform You That Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families: Stories from Rwanda" by Philip Gourevitch and "A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier" by Ishmael Beah. I am working my way through others (with American and classic literature supplements) and will be sure to update this list as the year progresses.