Kenya refugee photos

It is very quiet in the office today as everyone seems to be at a workshop in Cairo, Addis Ababa or Mukono, so thought I would take to opportunity to abuse my internet privileges and upload a few photos from the Kenyan refugee camp.

Waiting for porridge.

The camp. Each tent houses 8 people, whether they be from the same family or a variety of families.

Chow time.

Possibly my favorite photo ever. These girls wanted to dance for me.

"But you are the Technical Writer!"

I arrived at the office this morning, a little groggy from my decision to watch the Champions League final last night, still hating Ronaldo, and still sad for John Terry, to an email from our Grants Manager asking me to translate a 12 page report from Spanish to English. When I mentioned to him that I hadn't made it far enough into to the "Teach Yourself Spanish" kit I received for my birthday to handle this type of work, he looked at me as though I was the greatest disappointment in the world. "But you are the Technical Writer!"

I felt worse at this point than I have at any point of my fellowship. Worse than I did when I sent a rather chastising email to our Health Advisor when he sent me a proposal for a $4 million grant from USAID (notorious for being sticklers about paperwork and bureaucracy) that could have been written by a 2-year-old; worse than I did when I had to tell my co-worker who had called me at 9 pm from a workshop that I didn't know the woman from North Carolina she was sitting with, despite the fact that we are both bazungu (the plural of mzungu); even worse than I did when I hadn't heard of some random LA DJ our ICT manager is obsessed with.

I have since realized that since so much of my fellowship has been about saying yes, my co-workers don't know how to respond when I say no. There is no reason I should know Spanish and I know I shouldn't be held accountable because I don't, but I can't help but feel like a little bit of a failure. It makes me feel like I am acting like the co-worker of a friend of mine who refused to make copies because it "wasn't in his job description" and, as a result, forced his boss, a very well educated Ugandan man, to do it. I have always been a fan of pulling one's weight and taking responsibility for one's actions, but recently I have been thinking a lot about exactly how far that should extend. The truth is I can fix computers (to a point), I can tutor and, often times, I do know the answer to most questions being asked of me... but there is no "I" in team, right?

If there is anything John Terry, captain of the Chelsea team and just an overall classy guy, taught me last night when he missed the game winning penalty kick, it is that no matter how great a person is, the good guy doesn't always get the girl (something I was reconsidering when the very arrogant, mullet-sporting Cristiano Ronaldo missed his penalty shot about 3 minutes before)... and, of course, that success is a team effort and a player is only as strong as his team. I know this not a startling revelation (in fact, my consideration of international development and aid provoked many of the same thoughts and questions), but it suddenly feels much closer to home as I sit at my desk and evaluate my position in the office. I want to be John Terry, very talented but also a good team player and leader, and not Ronaldo, exceptionally talented but also a "one man show" who will sell out teammates for his own personal glory (during the 2006 World Cup, Ronaldo was influential in getting his Manchester United teammate Wayne Rooney wrongly thrown out of the quarterfinal between England and Portugal, even though he had absolutely nothing to do with the play in question and considers Rooney a "close friend," due to his strong desire for Portugal to win). So... does this mean I should learn Spanish? Or say no more often?

Big news

Blame it on my recent small victories and Kenya refugee experiences, or maybe even my love of the boda, but I have recently decided to stay at Plan Uganda for another year. I will continue with my technical writing responsibilities, however will also be actively involved in Plan's new program focusing on psychosocial support to former LRA child soldiers in Lira District- something which I am very very excited about.

The bad news is that I will not be back on U.S. soil until December... the good news that you all get another year of Tales of a Mzungu!

Small victories

As I often say, living in Uganda has taught me the power of the small victory so thought I might share some small victories of the week.

1. On my walk to work today, only got asked "we go?" by 5 boda drivers (average is about 9) and called "sweetheart" by 2 men (average is about 5).

2. After several weeks of being yelled at by overweight South African women about how their make-up wearing daughters deserve to be in spinning class more than me (solely due to their crush on Ian, their P.E. teacher and our instructor), have managed to get a spinning bike for the past two weeks. Apparently sweating off their make-up wasn't working for the girls... and spinning class is no longer harder to get into than an elite NYC club. Sorry, Ian.

3. Movies have been coming to the Ugandan cineplex as fast as they have been coming to America. Over the past three weeks I have seen Definitely, Maybe (ok, so that may have taken 3 months to come...), Iron Man, Made of Honor and What Happens In Vegas. This gives me high hopes for Indiana Jones and Sex and the City.

4. I was met at my office this morning by a man from one of our partners in Tororo who had first promised me a report last week, then over the weekend and finally, at the absolute LATEST, yesterday at 2 pm. The report never came (nothing new)... but he felt so bad that he traveled to Kampala in the pouring rain on public transportation (a good 4 hour trip, meaning he must have left his house before 3 am) to hand deliver me the report by 8 am. This may have been my greatest victory ever. Maybe I am more like Anna Wintour than I thought...

My work with the Kenyan refugees

Now that you have a good idea of the work Plan is doing with the refugees, thought I would offer some of my own personal experiences.

Before April 8, my experience had a very distinct paper trail as while I had written several grants proposals, updates and reviews, I had yet to actually meet a refugee. I could tell you exactly how many refugees there were in the country, how many Plan was supporting with Family Planning services, and even what their daily life was like, but should you have asked what a refugee actually looked, smelled or talked like, I wouldn't have been able to afford an answer. Yes, I knew they lived in tents, ate donated food, and spoke Swahili, but this all seemed very abstract sitting at my desk in Kampala.

This soon became very apparent as donors began asking for a more personal account of where their money was going. After two weeks of being promised a report from the field was "on its way," I took the proactive step of arranging a visit as I figured the fear of me coming would actually inspire someone to do something. See, my housemate Sarah is always telling me that I have quite the "don't mess with me" look and, to be blunt, I put "the fear of God" into people. This is mostly is in relation to boda drivers, but we also both have our suspicions about our housemate Bethany and her feelings about me seeing as she almost always communicates through Sarah. I find this amusing seeing as one of my greatest faults has always been my tendency to put others in front of myself and I would classify myself as anything but intimidating, but maybe times have changed and Uganda has turned me into Anna Wintour. Or maybe not as I clearly am not a threat to anyone in our Tororo office seeing as even though I was told there were 3 reports waiting for me, I still have yet to see any of them. The project manager claimed that writing a report "wasn't in his job description" when he agreed to oversee all of the Plan programs at the camp, and his assistant claimed illiteracy. The result was I had 24 hours to research and write a report about 3 months of work and over $50,000 of funding. Only in Uganda.

As a result, I quickly headed to the camp, about a half an hour's drive from the Plan Tororo office, equipped with a notepad and pen in hopes of getting a more personal account of the Kenyan refugee experience, but ended up instead getting a more personal account of why I am here. It may sound cliche, but the 10 hours I spent at the camp were some of the most powerful of my life. I never ever opened my notepad as it quickly became clear that words cannot express the feelings evoked when interviewing refugees and aid workers; instead, I opened my eyes and listened to stories of courage, heartbreak, optimism and fear. I looked inside tents no bigger than the "4 man" ones I slept in on camping trips that were housing families of 8. I realized that the close quarters meant that if 1 person got the flu, at least another 20 would soon follow. I watched children play inside the "safe space," a large open area in the center of the camp equipped with swings and slides, completely oblivious to their surroundings. I met 4 babies born in the camp, 1 to a 14-year-old rape victim who had been orphaned 2 years ago and only made it out of the violence thanks to the generousity of the neighbors she now found herself living with. I heard a Save the Children worker speak of his fear for a very attractive, slender 16-year-old girl, calling her a walking time bomb for the "bad men" within the camp. I watched an HIV positive man receive IV fluids at the Plan health clinic and spoke with several health volunteers who refuse to ever return to Kenya out of fear of continued prejudice. Yes, I may have entered the camp angry that nothing had been done about the report, but I left absolutely inspired.

So inspired that I stayed up the entire night writing the report and returned to the camp the following day for pleasure. I spent the majority of the time inside the "safe space" with the absolutely adorable kids, several of whom refused to let go of my hand and all of whom were fascinated by my hair. I was immediately swarmed (imagine me surrounded by a circumference of about 100 4-year-olds) and while many lost interest, a core group of about 10 stayed with me until I left three hours later. We played tag, ran around and stood on line for porridge (for them, not me). By the time it was time to leave, I found myself both upset and happy: miserable to leave but happy to know that all of my work was incredibly worthwhile and my Kenyan refugee experience no longer had a paper trail.

Plan's work with the Kenyan refugees

As promised, thought I would spend some time talking about my work with the Kenyan refugees. First, I am going to post the report I wrote regarding Plan's role in the emergency relief assistance to give you an idea of the type of support we have been working on. Warning: it is kind of long, but I did my best to keep it narrative and entertaining so hopefully it is worth a read through.

Background
The chaotic aftermath of the Kenyan elections on December 27 has caused more than 12,000 Kenyans to seek refuge in Uganda. The announced re-election of President Mwai Kibaki, a member of the traditionally dominant Kikuyu tribe, on December 30 amid claims of fraud unearthed a long standing tension among Kenya’s tribes. Citing civil unrest, members of oppositional tribes began persecuting Kikuyus across the country. While the violence was widespread, it was especially rampant in areas, such as the Rift Valley, where Kikuyus stand as a minority.

Refugees began arriving at the Ugandan border crossings of Busia, Malaba and Lwakaka on December 29, and continue to arrive today. Many of the refugees have lost relatives, homes and businesses to tribal violence. Nearly all have arrived with few material possessions, taking just the few things they could carry with them by hand, and many have arrived injured and in need of health care. They are all in need of food, shelter and various other types of physical and psychosocial support.

Initial Efforts

St. Jude’s Primary School, Malaba

Plan was among the first organizations to intervene. Equipped with fuel, a limited commodity as the violence had closed the major supply route between Mombasa and Uganda, and other basic life necessities such as soap, maize, disinfectants, infant food, fire wood, fuel, plates, cups, jerry cans, basins, and water purifiers, Plan housed 1,630 refugees at St. Jude’s Primary School in the border town of Malaba beginning just days after the elections. Plan and the Red Cross set up a first aid support facility for people needing medical assistance as they crossed the border. Sick and wounded people were treated at Malaba Health Centre, which was supported with medicine from Plan. Emergency cases were referred to Tororo General Hospital, also supported by Plan.

Similar camps were constructed in the border towns of Busia and Manafa under the leadership of Save the Children, UNHCR, UNOCHA, UNICEF, World Food Programme, Action Aid, World Vision, the Uganda Red Cross Society and a variety of other partners, and a District Disaster Preparedness Committee was formed in partnership with many of these organizations and the Local Government. Meetings were held beginning on December 29^th both to identify gaps and to craft a more comprehensive plan for the way forward. Plan was recognized for its role in child nutrition, a focus not shared with any other organization, and adopted the niche of child nutrition and growth monitoring, access to basic health care services, hygiene and sanitation support and psychosocial services. Thanks to a generous gift from the Australian National Office, refugees were provided with infant formula, baby food, water guard, sanitary pads, drugs, games, counseling and many other health services.
On January 16^th, nearly three weeks after refugees first arrived in the country, the government of Uganda, through the Ministry of State for Disaster Preparedness and Refugees, granted the fleeing population from Kenya refugee status in Uganda. This announcement, and the fact that it became clear that a more long-term solution was needed as the violence in Kenya had yet to cease, provoked the government to decide to consolidate the 3 camps in Busia, Manafa and Malaba into 1 central transit camp in Mulanda town, Tororo District.

Continuing Support

Mulanda Transit Camp

Under the leadership of UNHCR, the 3 camps were consolidated and relocated to the Mulanda Transit Camp, a former Polytechnic Primary School training facility, beginning on January 23^rd. As of April 8, 2008, the camp hosted 2,034 refugees: 365 children under the age of 6, 671 children between the ages of 6 and 17, 506 males between the ages of 18 and 59, 454 females between the ages of 18 and 59, and 38 men and women over the age of 60.
There are many differences between the Malaba and Mulanda camps. At Malaba school blocks were used for shelter; UNHCR provides tents with a capacity of 8 for the refugees at Mulanda. This affords a little more privacy, however since most families are not the perfect size of 8 sharing tents among households is not uncommon. The camp is divided into 6 blocks (A,B,C,D,E,F), with the oldest occupants inhabiting Block A and the newest residents being housed in Block F. Whereas in Malaba meals were communal and given at a set time, meals at Mulanda, with the exception of porridge for school-going children, follow the Busia practice of being familial. While this decision initially resulted in some hunger and malnutrition among refugees from the Malaba camp, it was made to give the refugees some autonomy, a right frequently lost in the camp setting. Security at Mulanda, given its larger size, is tighter. The Government donated large overhead lamps and employs 29 full-time Police Officers to patrol the camp. When it became apparent that there were no lights in the camp other than the large overhead ones, Plan facilitated the distribution of kerosene lamps to individual tents to provide more comfort.
Most importantly the consolidation of the camps allowed for a stronger partnership between all collaborating partners as all were now able to contribute their focus and energy to a single camp. UNHCR took on the role of overseeing all operations; Save the Children Uganda took responsibility for primary education, child protection issues and domestic abuse sensitization; UNICEF took charge of water by building pipes throughout the camp and filling them with fresh water on a daily basis and World Vision took charge of all other sanitation issues, including monitoring the latrines and keeping the camp clean; finally, the Ugandan Red Cross distributed food from the World Food Programme and coordinated donations from all other organizations. Plan maintained its niche of child nutrition support and growth monitoring, access to basic health services and provision of psychosocial care, while also taking responsibility for family planning and sexual and reproductive health rights services. Realizing that camp residents do not enjoy such basic human rights as freedom of movement and association and, as a result, humanitarian issues take precedence over other concerns, Plan identified family planning and sexual reproductive health rights as a critical need gap to prevent a high prevalence of sexually transmitted infections (STIs), HIV AIDS, teenage pregnancies, unsafe abortions, sexual and gender-based violence, rape, torture, sexual slavery and forced marriages. Providing effective and adequate contraceptive services would also help ease a population growth in the already overcrowded camp. In addition to the above objectives, Plan also took responsibility for the full restoration of St. Jude’s Primary School.

Objectives

Family Planning, Child Nutrition Support and Growth Monitoring

Due to a generous gift from the Canadian National Office, Plan has made great strides in the fields of family planning, child nutrition support and growth monitoring. Through a partnership with the Family Planning Association of Uganda (FPAU), refugees are provided with proper antenatal and postnatal care, immunizations, child growth monitoring, voluntary counseling and treatment (VCT), STI management and family planning counseling and services.
An outreach site with a large sign promoting the services provided has been established at the camp’s entrance and 150 Reproductive Health agents have been trained to provide counseling, distribute condoms and deliver other non-contraceptive supplies to the target population in their homes. The agents also refer clients to the outreach site in times of need. In the event that the necessary services are not available at the outreach site, clients are referred to a Reproductive Health clinic in Tororo, something which has increased access to and utilization of Reproductive Health services. As of April 8, 3,200 clients, including 300 children, had received a Reproductive Health service of some kind. 392 clients have accessed such family planning methods as condoms, pills and injectables. Child nutrition and growth monitoring is also a large part of the project. In addition to offering infant food and growth monitoring, every Tuesday and Thursday a session about the importance of child immunizations is held at the outreach site. During these sessions, parents and guardians are also taught by trained staff how to give a tetanus shot. This has dramatically lowered the risk of child morbidity and mortality at the camp.
Believing that knowledge is power, in addition to providing actual health services, a large part of the project involves sensitizing and empowering young people about sexual and reproductive rights to prevent dangerous habits and, if necessary, to promote behavior change. Puppet shows, indoor sport competitions and Straight Talk radio programs were used to distribute information education communication (IEC) materials, and a youth center equipped with ludo, chess and Omweso (favorite local games) was established at the outreach site to encourage non-sexual activities among youths. 1012 people received Reproductive Health information, 300 people picked up condoms, 920 children received Straight Talk letters and 200 youths were involved in recreational activities during these services. As a result, according to the client daily data collection pool collected by FPAU, 40% of both adult and children clients displayed an improved health status, and, while no concrete data is available, it is strongly believed that such practices as intergenerational sex, forced marriages, rape, torture and sexual slavery have reduced.
The most pressing Reproductive Health issue affecting the camp, as with most of East Africa, is HIV AIDS. Much has been done both to provide services to those affected by the diseases and to help reduce the stigma attached with the diseases. Through a partnership with The Aids Support Organization (TASO), those who are HIV positive have gained access to anti-retroviral drugs (ARVs), however the enormous stigma attached with being HIV positive caused many not to initially seek treatment. During the first week the camp was open, no one would board the van TASO sent to bring positives to the health center supplying the drugs out of fear of stigmatization. This provoked Plan, FPAU and TASO to organize a series of sensitization sessions about the common myths associated with HIV AIDS. People were taught not to fear the disease and about the power of positive living. Safe sex practices were discussed and people were encouraged at the end of each session to take up the offered voluntary counseling and testing services. As a result of these efforts, while only 2 people were known to be HIV positive when they arrived at Mulanda, there are now 35 known positives. They are no longer afraid to board the van to receive drugs and have even formed Broken Bodies Care (BBC), a support group with weekly meetings to discuss pertinent issues. During one of such meetings, the nutritional requirements of the rigorous ARV drug therapy were discussed and it was decided that more nutritional support was needed to ensure proper upkeep of the regimen. Several members of the group approached Plan staff who agreed to offer the necessary support, and now all HIV positive residents of the camp on ARVs receive nutritional supplements.

Access to Basic Health Services

The transition of basic health services from Malaba to Mulanda was not as easy as originally hoped. Plan officials tried to partner with a local Health Centre to get necessary drug and staff support, however the workers demanded monetary incentives exceeding the offered lunch allowance. After two weeks of negotiations it became clear that neither side was going to cave and the partnership was not going to work. Luckily, just after the expected partnership permanently dissolved, however unfortunately not before the refugees were relocated, the Friends of Christ Revival Ministries (FCRM) approached Plan and offered up the necessary staff and drugs, requesting only lunch allowances and two interpreters to prevent language barriers between the Swahili-speaking Kenyans and non-Swahili speaking Ugandan staff. In the meantime, in the absence of an onsite health clinic for almost the first month of Mulanda’s existence, Plan took advantage of a contract with St. Anthony’s Hospital which stated that the hospital would accept all refugee referrals from Plan. This guaranteed proper health care for all of the refugees, however at a much higher cost than originally budgeted as even the smallest of cases were now referred.
Nevertheless, through the partnership with FCRM and a generous gift from the Australian National Office, a clinic was up and running in Mulanda by mid-February, and all necessary drugs had been procured by the beginning of March. Along with two nurses, one doctor and thirteen trained volunteers from within the camp, the clinic is equipped with the medical supplies needed to draw blood, treat minor ailments and manage basic cases of malaria. There is a blocked-off, private space where patients can receive IV fluid and a “pharmacy” tent filled with necessary drugs under a tree directly next to the site. Since “health care means life” as David, one camp resident said, the positive impact of the clinic is unbelievable.
In it’s more than a month of existence the clinic has supplied a wide variety of services. The majority of cases are managed at the camp but in the event that a malady is too serious for the clinic’s resources, the client is referred to a local health center with Plan support. The most common ailment is malaria because while many refugees have been given insecticide-treated nets, the extreme heat and non-ventilated tents cause most not to use them for comfort reasons. Other frequent cases include fresh wounds that need to be cleaned to prevent infection and burns from stoves. Many refugees have experienced eye problems and have been given drops to heal. Several children have broken bones and have been referred to a hospital in Mbale, the nearest town with an x-ray machine. There have also been many documented cases of adult dental problems, with several refugees needing to have teeth extracted or worked on; these patients have also been referred to the Mbale hospital as there is no dentist in Tororo. As of March 23, the clinic had assisted in the birth of 18 babies, only referring 1 with complications for further care. There has been 1 documented case of rape and the health team escorted the victim to a health centre for follow up. The team continues to support the treatment of a baby girl with rickets, a Vitamin D deficiency which results in the softening of bones potentially leading to frequent fractures and deformity, and has supported hernia surgery for an older woman. The clinic referred an HIV positive older woman, thought to be blind after suffering from meningitis, to an ophthalmologist to confirm her blindness as she had never sought medical care during her illness. A baby girl with an Ear Nose and Throat problem was recently referred to a specialist in Mbale, only to be told that she needed a surgery only available at Mulago Hospital in Kampala. The team expects to get the necessary support and mobilize the girl for the surgery within the next week.
While no story is more important than another, the most remarkable of all referrals has been the case of 10-month old Lucy Wanga. Little Lucy, who is frail and looks like she is only four months old, was born with a hole in her heart. She had eye and skin problems that doctors say was a result of her heart condition. As Lucy’s problem could not be cured by medication, she and her parents were set to travel to Kenyatta Hospital in Nairobi for review before a slated April operation when the election violence broke out. “We were so sure we would finally get a review for Lucy before her surgery,” her mother said with a shaking voice and tears in her eyes. “The doctors had told us that we had to keep Lucy before her surgery in April this year. We were so close.” Their plans changed when they feared for their lives as they watched an angry mob raze their house and everything in it to the ground and so, instead of going to Nairobi to seek medical treatment, they sought refuge at the Ugandan border. “We didn’t even have the chance to get Lucy’s medicine and warm clothes,” her father remembered. As a result, Lucy developed pneumonia along the arduous journey and her health began deteriorating very quickly.
Noticing how sick her daughter had become, Lucy’s mother brought her to the Plan health center in Malaba. The center treated her for her pneumonia and arranged a hospital appointment at the Uganda Heart Hospital. The diagnosis revealed Lucy to be suffering from pulmonary atresia – or a blockage of the heart’s right ventricle - an extremely rare condition. So serious was this diagnosis that doctors in Kenya and Uganda were unable to help, yet without treatment Lucy would have had little chance of survival. The treating cardiac surgeon recommended that Lucy been transferred to a special pediatric unit in Chennai, India. Thanks to the support of the German National Office, this referral was possible. Plan contacted the Madras Mission Hospital to arrange an immediate appointment and began arranging entry visas and flights for the family. By early March, Lucy was well enough for the 14 hour flight from Uganda to India. However, on arriving in India, she suffered yet another setback. The doctors discovered the infant had a collapsed heart. Despair set in, as they explained that India only stored adult heart valves. Once more, Plan stepped in, arranging for a baby heart valve to be flown in from Brazil. On March 26, bleary eyed but stable, baby Lucy awoke from her six hour operation to be greeted by her anxious, and overwhelmed 20-year-old mother. To everyone’s amazement, Lucy’s progress was steady and positive and she was able to leave the ICU after five days of monitoring. Her heart now beats regularly and, while the total effects of the surgery on her life will not be known for years, the rash and skin paleness evidenced before the surgery has disappeared. She arrived safely back in Uganda on April 7, ironically World Health Day, and has resettled into Kampala with her extremely grateful parents who, while unsure about their immediate future, are overjoyed that Lucy will be a part of it. “I see a tough future ahead of us, but now I have some hope,” her father remarked. “I am trying hard to see how I can get some money and make a home outside the camp. I know my daughter needs this and I am touched that even the Plan staff are concerned about this.”

Psychosocial Care and Support

A major concern of Plan is the effect the recent incidents will have on the mental health of the refugee as they are all unemployed, idle and emotionally unstable. As a result, psychosocial support has been as great as of an initiative as the rest of the health services. This has been possible due to a generous gift from the German National Office. Working in partnership with health volunteers from Kampala, a counseling site has been set up within the camp for refugees to come and talk about their psychological trauma. The volunteers are equipped with several different types of medication, if need be, and are mental health specialists. There is a “safe space” filled with swings, slides and other playground activities for children in the center of the camp to provide a “children’s only” area. This allows children to keep busy and think about things other than their life as refugees. Orphans and other vulnerable children have been removed from the camp and now reside in a Children’s Center in Mbale led by a nun to keep them protected and cared for.
Plan is sponsoring the “Tumaini” (hope in Swahili) project with The Kyesimira Foundation. The project’s approach is to cultivate behavioral skills integrally needed to enable the adolescent and adult community cope with their current emotional state by influencing, not imposing, positive behavior that reflects age and sex, stage of behavior adoption, gender equality, human rights and youth participation and child protection in line with Plan Uganda framework. Believing that one of the best things for grief management is to keep people busy and prevent idleness, the project organizes games, workshops and other recreational activities. It revolves around 4 main strategies: using youth-led teams and adult peer formations, using media to influence behavioral change and raise hope, establishing camp-community relations and integrating linkages with other UNHCR programs.
8 youth groups (including the Youth Forum and Youth Summit, refugee volunteer groups that represent camp youths in programming and leadership matters), 4 youth clubs (each one focusing on music, dance, drama or poetry) and 2 adult peer formations have been identified and Plan and Kyesimira staff are both working with these groups to facilitate the development of a camp-based peer-led model for providing the planned psychosocial services. Working through these formations, the project continues to mobilize young people and adults to participate in the planning of activities. 200 youths are producing camp diaries as part of a memory project encouraging the translation of oral experiences into print memory for use by the youth and adult population in the camp. This has proven a very therapeutic method as children are able to voice and draw concerns that they previously may not have articulated. The books begin on December 27, Election Day, and highlight important feelings and events over the past 4 months.
The initiative has established 6 peer corners for young people, and 4 referral points for both the young and adult community. Young people and adults interact both for recreational and educational purposes at these places. Clusters and referral points are formed along thematic lines, such as alcohol, drugs, sex and worship, and are led by peers with an interest in the focus of the group. For example, at the sex-focused referral point there are peer-managed indoor games that provide an opportunity for the target population to share experiences and receive quality information on HIV and other STIs. The project has set up 20 information holes at these corners and has served 350 people with quality IEC materials. Adults are targeted to participate in behavioral activities that influence behavioral change, receive information on positive decision-making and promote the generation of group sessions for adults to support young people.
Understanding that recreation is a great way to promote education, sports are a large part of the project. The initiative has procured indoor and outdoor games for young people and adults to facilitate participation and competition as a way of influencing positive behavior and communication channels in the camp. To increase participation, plans have been made to provide lessons in chess, darts, monopoly and cricket: games that most of the youths are not familiar with. In order to support meaningful competition, the football, basketball, netball and volleyball field has been improved. As a result, block-based competitions are scheduled to kick off on 9^th April 2008. It is planned that these competitions will foster peer dialogue, reduce idleness-related stress and provide a basis for individual routine planning and participation. As an incentive for participation, one live goat per winning team will be provided for “nyama choma,” a local meal involving roast goat, and trophies will be awarded during the semi-final and final competitions.
Sports competitions have also been used to help camp residents relate with both Kenyans and Ugandans outside of the camp. It is intended that this will support the development of positive attitudes through interaction and experience sharing with non-refugee peers, while also bringing an element of normalcy to life. To date, one football match, one netball match and one volleyball match have been played between Tororo Progressive Academy (TOPA), a leading destination for Kenyan students in Uganda as 95% of the students who participated in the matches were Kenyans., and the camp youth and adult teams. The ratio of adult to youth participants was 30:70. The initiative used this opportunity to mobilize the youth and adult groups, disseminate information on key IEC messages and initiate activity follow-up and evaluation. A follow-up game between the Kenyan students at Busoga University and the camp teams has been scheduled for 16^th April 2008.
Community interaction is not limited to sports games. A high-energy, traditional dance troupe from nearby Busoga University comes at night to teach the refugees have to dance. “When we are worried about throwing our hands and legs around, we don’t have time to concentrate on our worries,” Dorkus, a camp resident, said. “Participating in a dancing competition with children in this camp, steals my anger against the Luo who killed my only grandson…….. at least I have them to dance with,” said Alex, another Mulanda resident. Five community shows have been conducted to date, including two showings of the YELLOW CARD movie using an open source projector. YELLOW CARD is a story of a young, talented high school footballer (Tyiana) who makes poor decisions about sex, love, abortion and friendship. His conduct (premarital sex, wild dances, fights in disco halls) has negative consequences as he becomes a teenage single father. Messages on advocacy, positive behavior, sex and love decisions are disseminated through the 90-minute long film and the messages had a remarkable short term influence on bar attendance. During the 90 minutes of show, the number of those going out for alcohol and other drugs significantly reduced. A rapid bar/market survey indicated 25 people (by head count) in the bars at the beginning of the film and 5 people at 45 minutes of showing. The bar attendants relocated to the main entrance of the camp because of lack of customers by the 60^th minute of showing. This is an indicator of attitude change and it is hoped that it will be longer than just short-term.
The initiative has completed preparations for conducting the cultural nights. Ugandan pop star and role model, His Excellence Bobi Wine, will preside over the inaugural night scheduled for 15^th April 2008. During this activity, young people and adults will showcase the cultural values and norms of dressing, singing, greeting, eating, laughing, shelter and child upbringing. The initiative is also supporting block-based music, drama and dance teams to participate in a competition scheduled for 17^th April 2008. The Kenyan High Commissioner and Ms. Sylvia Awori will be the Chief Guest and Guest of Honor, respectively, and BBC and Reuters have been contacted for media coverage. Key items planned include original compositions, western compositions, ballroom dancing, solos, and karaoke. A full-day comic caravan has been slated for 18^th April 2008. Preparations include procurement of the ‘red nose and red hut’, formation of the caravan teams and assessment forms. It is anticipated that all UNHCR partners will participate in this day-long stress relieving activity that will have music lines and music running slots, HIV counseling and testing, comic production and presentation and drama slots. Preparation for all three of these events has engaged young people and adults away from alcohol and emotional distress, and has provided a framework for planning their time in the camp. This is a key step towards reclaiming negative attitudes and unstable emotions.
The initiative has established a system managed by young people and adults to provide feedback to the implementing team (IT). The IT works with this team to appraise performance against set outputs, foster collaboration and validate reporting requirements on a daily basis. This is an important aspect of this project because it supports evidence-based planning. For example, the children once told the IT about their concern about the low knowledge levels among their peers about sexual and reproductive health issues. As a result, staff often ask the Busoga University Kenyan Refugee Support Team, a group of Kenya University students trained by Kyesimira to provide adolescent sexual and reproductive health services, for additional support as they are very well-received by the camp adolescents.

Rehabilitation of St. Jude’s Primary School

While the refugees may have left the Malaba camp by January 24th, their presence and impact did not leave with them. Much work was needed to rehabilitate St. Jude’s in order to make it a functioning primary school again. There were sanitary considerations: the pit latrine needed to be emptied and the whole camp needed to be fumigated. Waste needed to be removed and water pipes needed to be restored. Several parts of the school needed repainting and new furniture was needed as the frequent moving involved in the dual-use of the school blocks as classrooms and sleeping grounds had caused irreparable damage to many desks and chairs. Thanks to the generous gifts of both the Canadian and Australian National Offices all of this was possible and St. Jude’s is ready again to receive pupils.

Way Forward

The immediate future of the refugees remains unclear. Despite a peace pact brokered by Kofi Annan between the ruling and opposition parties in March, the violence has yet to cease. A recent surge in the Rift Valley caused 40 more refugees to register at Mulanda on April 8, over 3 months after the violence began. One thing is certain: refugees are very adamant about not wanting to return to Kenya. Citing the recent violence and long standing grudges, the refugees wonder how they can return home and not live in fear. They wonder how they can bring their children back to the same place they watched an angry mob burn down their home. Given the continuing unstable political climate, they worry about getting the reparations promised to them by the Kenyan Government. They would prefer to remain refugees than return nothing to a place where they feel persecution is guaranteed.
Understanding this, UNHCR is working with the Ugandan Government for a more long-term solution than Mulanda. Plans are in the works to move the refugees to a long-term facility in Kiryandongo, Masindi District, with those choosing to remain at Mulanda developing urban refugee status, however nothing has been set into motion yet. It is hoped that international organizations will not have to provide support as the Government takes a larger role, however all precautions will be taken to ensure that the refugees continue getting all of the support they need.

A Smorgasbord of Photos

About two weeks ago I discovered another perk of my house: wireless internet. Our next door neighbors (a lovely Irish couple) installed a router in their house and since Uganda has yet to discover the "locked internet" craze, I began to surf the web in my living room, dining room and kitchen. Even better than the fact that it was free was that it was the fastest connection I have found in the country. Better than my office, better than any hotel I have been to, better than Bubbles and all other cafes with internet. It still is nothing compared to the Western world, but small victories.

The fast(er) internet meant that I could upload some photos, however unfortunately for reasons unknown to me the connection ended as soon as it started (still get a full signal but can't seem to connect) so wasn't able to upload all those I wanted to share (and no clue how it decided which ones to upload). Nevertheless, here are at least some so enjoy!

Making wine in Stellenbosch, South Africa

The infamous "gorilla" shot (apologies to all who have seen Dad in the past couple of months as I suspect this is not the first time you have seen this)

Underneath the gorilla. Notice Dad's concern... and the Belgian's ensemble

The playful baby. To give you an idea of just how close we were, I did not use zoom for this picture.

The first gorilla I saw after the treacherous first day. Again, no zoom used.

My house

Gulu market in the rain

"Muchomo," goat on a stick and Uganda's version of fast food. Also observe the live chickens on the left also available for purchase.

Women attending a workshop on Community-Led Total Sanitation. The women are wearing traditional Buganda (the largest tribe in Uganda) gowns and sitting in the traditional pose (legs folded to one side, no smiles).

With Chairman Mao of Gulu District at Jeff's launch

Famous Last Words

I know I talk a lot about quiz night, so thought it might be fun to post a sample round from one of the quizzes Baseball and Apple Pie made. In addition to rounds titled Jew!, Shakespeare, Theme Songs, Disney Characters, On This Day, Sports Blunders and Trickery, Assassinated Leaders, Presidential/Executive Politics, and Formerly Known As, we ended our last quiz with the following "Famous Last Words" round.

1. Whose last words were “France, armée, Joséphine”? –
2. This famous witty Irish writer, known for such quips as “A dirty mind is a joy forever” died in 1900, leaving the world with the last words, “Either this wallpaper goes, or I do.” –
3. In 1953, this woman declared “We are the first victims of American facism!” before she was executed for treason. –
4. His tombstone reads: “ Fly / Quoth the Raven, / ‘Nevermore.’” –
5. In this book, Mr. Kurtz dies after exclaiming “The horror! The horror!” –
6. This fictional royal figure’s last words were “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse.” –
7. In what classic movie did the villainess utter the last words “Who would have thought a good little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness?” –
8. Many people think that “Give me liberty or give me death” were this man’s last words.
9. Perhaps this man really could predict the future, as his last words were “Tomorrow, I shall no longer be here.” -
10.Whose first last words were “Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.”

Feel free to try them out and email me with any questions/answers. Also, if you would like to see/take any of the other rounds just let me know. Much much credit to anyone who beats Dad's 1 correct answer on the Disney round.

"You ride with us"

Now that I have returned to ordinary life, a staple part of my day is two, 20-40 minute, depending on traffic, shuttle rides between the Jinja Road Shell station (about a 20-25 minute walk from my house) and my office. There are 2 stops between mine and the office, and a core group of about 8 of us, 4 men and 4 women, that are always on it, with an additional fluctuating 2 or 3. Since we are all low men on the totem pole, I consider the rides the equivalent of the neighborhood pub or water cooler as the air is filled with office gossip and laughter. Bosses are blamed for making us late (not once have we actually left at the 7:45 a.m. or 5:15 p.m. departure time) and jokes are shared about the day's events. The sense of humor is not quite that of an American office, but the tone tends to be self-mocking. "Hey JR," the HR assistant (number 6 on a pay scale of 8, with the Country Director being number 1) said to the Office Accountant (number 7 and the office clown) one day, "You going to town?" "But of course," he responded. "I am going shopping at Garden City!" Large amounts of laughter. Garden City, you may remember, is the shopping mall where I do most of my grocery shopping as it sells expat staples, but is notorious for being overpriced. I am happy to pay the extra fees because of my issues with Ugandan food, but it would be downright upsurd for a Ugandan to buy his or her groceries there. Even more upsurd would be going clothing or supply shopping there, as anything bought at a shop there could be purchased for a fraction of the price at Owino Market. Luckily even though they all know I am in fact heading to Garden City, the crowd still accepts me as one of their own, attributing my silly decisions to buy brown rice, cereal, ground beef and pasteurized milk instead of the much cheaper Ugandan rice, matoake, questionable scraps of meat hanging from a "butcher" stand and fresh dairy to my mzungu nature. Still, I am not one of "THEM." All of my boda riding gives me a certain amount of street cred. Plus, "you ride with us," they tell me.

The comradery among us and Charles, our driver, has grown over the past 10 months, and the conversations have been especially fruitful this past week. Yesterday's discussion was about a topic very likely to be discussed in an Irish pub, but perhaps not at a water cooler in fear of talk of sexual harassment: breasts. About 2 minutes into the ride, the office auditor, a male, turned to the receptionist and sponsorship secretary, both females, and asked what it meant if a woman had very long breasts. Do they sag from breast-feeding, he wanted to know. Had they had this experience? Was it bad that he was just as attracted to long breasts as wide ones? Should he steer clear of women with long breasts? (All questions I am sure asked by the pub-growing crowd). What was amazing to me was the innocent nature of the questioning. He was visibly distraught about being attracted to women with "long breasts." Or perhaps I was just amused because he started a long conversation (as in, it encompassed 4 rides) about hips last week.

I, or rather Oprah, was the center of Monday's conversation. The procurement assistant was very distressed about the "Oprah Winfrey show" she had seen the night before which featured 4 guests who had recently had sex changes. "A man becoming a woman? That is not right," she said. A woman becoming a man? That just got a cringe, scowl and general look of disgust. Was this sort of thing normal in America? Normal, no, I responded. Does it happen- yes (although I must admit I was very close to saying that yes, 1 out of every 3 Americans gets a sex change. In fact, I was once was a man!) For a group that doesn't believe that homosexuals exist, this was a very shocking answer. I tried to explain why a sex change might be necessary, but was met with questions of right and wrong. A man is a man. A woman is a woman. Period. How would a person who had a sex change be able to be a parent? Love is the central quality necessary of any parent, I answered. The parent's sex doesn't matter. Again I was met with a cringe, scowl and general look of disgust. But God chooses the sex of a person and you can't mess with God. Actually the male chooses the sex of the baby and doesn't God want everyone to be happy? Eventually the conversation died down as it quickly became clear that we were never going to agree, and again I knew my views were attributed to my mzungu characteristics. I may be strange but at least I now have another reason not to like Oprah.

Yes, I am alive

It has been awhile. This I know and I apologize- my life has just kind of gotten the better of me these past couple of months. To briefly synthesize, January was work-filled as it was major reporting season (I was responsible for over 600 pages of reports) and the "Christmas hangover" experienced by staff meant long nights and weekends were spent at the office (sadly by me and not those actually responsible for writing the reports). February was travel-filled as I went back to Cape Town (my first African love) for the Princeton in Africa annual retreat, only to be met upon my return by Mom and Dad who were ready for our two-week adventure across Uganda and Rwanda. March was routine-filled as I struggled to re-adapt to daily life after my wonderful travels, and here we are at the end of April! I must admit I am still wondering how that is even possible, but so it goes, I suppose.

Since it is has been so long and parts of the story are more interesting than others, I am just going to deliver the "highlights" of 2008. I am going to do my best to keep it entertaining, but also have a sneaking suspicion it is still going to be rather long. In that spirit, I am going to pass by January because stories of me sitting in the office aren't very exciting (although I did learn a lot about bureaucracy, grant management and the power of positive thought- all very stimulating topics) and as soon as I finish this post I am going to write a more extensive post about my experience with the Kenyan refugees (definitely the "interest" story of the month), and jump right into February.

The beginning of the month wasn't all that different than January (although I did get staffed to write a case study about the state of primary education in Uganda, another thing that deserves a post in and of itself, and did manage to watch the Giants beat the Patriots at a British pub- woohoo!), but the last two weeks of the month were magical. A scheduling glitch allowed me to fly down to Cape Town two days before the retreat began, and I capitalized on every moment in the city. I was just as excited to step off of the plane in Johannesburg on February 19 as I had been to step off the plane in Newark on December 15, albeit for different reasons. Instead of being met by friends and family, I was met by a Magma Wrap from Kauai (a healthy South African fast food chain), vampire teeth (gummy, sugary delicious candies) and Chuckles (based on my experience the best chocolate covered raisins in the world, not to be confused with the gross, chewy fruity American version that Remy used to get at Wyo candyline). I seriously risked missing my 1 hour connection to Cape Town in favor of these treats, and the risk was well worth it. My tastebuds were in heaven!

A short 2 hour flight later, my tastebuds weren't the only thing in heaven. Cape Town was everything I remembered it to be and more. The sky was cloudless (a perk of going in February), the temperature a balmy 80 with a nice cross breeze (a perk of being on the ocean) and the drive from the airport to the hostel all too familiar. I have come to terms with Kampala's landlocked, congested, dusty nature but somehow as I smelled the salt water, watched the fashionable people walk on sidewalks, and drove past several tree-lined park areas, the terms of my agreement went out the window. Kampala may have its own charms, but Cape Town will always be the natural, jealous-inspiring beauty of the two.

I spent that first afternoon reacquainting myself with my old neighborhood and reveling in the cosmopolitan nature of the city. I had forgotten what it felt like to actually care about how I looked because I didn't feel absolutely covered in dirt three seconds after stepping outside of my door. I had also forgotten how seriously Cape Tonians take their fashion- and how perfect they look while doing so. South Africans definitely have that same European charm that Americans (and Ugandans) lack. My first night was spent at a braai, a traditional South African barbeque filled with sausages, fish, chicken, steak, various types of game, corn on the cob and a variety of salads, at my hostel, and then out at one of my favorite bars with some friends I had made at the braai. I was one happy camper, let me tell you. I spent the next day at Cape Town's greatest perk- the beach- burning myself to a nice crispy red before enjoying a delicious midday meal of salmon (which oddly sort of resembled my coloring) and ice cream. That evening was spent at an all-you-can-eat sushi bar and then at the hostel bar with some fellow Princeton people who arrived early, although I headed to bed early in anticipation of the next day's events: wine tasting in Stellenbosch, Paarl and Franschoek (the wine regions about 45 minutes away from the city). An 8:30-5:30 event, if it wasn't for the nap on the ride home I don't think I would have been prepared for my first actual "Princeton retreat" event! Nevertheless, I managed to recover (and write down my new favorite wine- Viognier) in time for the retreat kickoff dinner at an African restaurant on Long Street, the social hub of Cape Town.

The retreat was just as wonderful as my first, free days in the city. It was great to be reacquianted with my PiAf fellow friends, as well as get the opportunity to get to know some of the fellows I didn't know a little better. It also was encouraging to share experiences and to learn that others share my glories and frustrations. I became equipped with new strategies to overcome some of my frustrations, and learned that I was a "gold" (basically a synonym for "Type-A," I swear) personality. As a sidenote, everyone should take the color personality test. Not biased at all, three cheers for anyone who turns out red ("an uneducated person who hates details, is up-to-date on celebrity gossip and uses sports metaphors").

Two more sushi meals, one Mexican meal, a pizza, a platter of cheese, three Castle Lagers on tap, 1 bloody mary, about six bottles of good, South African wine and several yogurt/muesli/fresh fruit breakfasts later, I was back on a plane to Kampala (although not before pausing in the Joburg airport again for some Kauai- this time I went for the Thai Chicken sandwich, vampire teeth and Chuckles). A very uneventful journey, I was welcomed an hour and a half before my parents' re-entry to Africa by Patrick, my trusty airport taxi driver. When I got home, I unpacked all of my goodies (I imported wine, cheese, vampire teeth and Chuckles), rehashed the week with my housemate Sarah (who got her Master's degreein Cape Town so has a similar love for the place) and anxiously dreamt about the vacation to come.

While my parents spent their first day in Uganda exploring the Source of the Nile and Bujagali Falls (the first Class 5 rapid on the River), I was met by an unfortunate reality of being a working woman: vacation days. Yes, I can't really complain seeing as I get three, maybe even four, times as many as my friends in States, but still find myself longing for my days of unaccountability. Those days reappeared when M and D dropped by my office to meet some co-workers on their way back into town and I realized I would have spent 7 hours of a three week period at my desk. Disgraceful I know, but I think of it as retribution for my work-filled previous six weeks.

Our adventure began the next morning when we headed for Murchison Falls, a game park in the Northwest. I think all three of us would agree that more frightening than any of the game we saw was the car ride up there, as M and D were finally exposed to pothole-filled Gulu Road. Somehow my warnings of "this is the worst road ever" got lost in translation (kind of like how Mom didn't believe me when I said even though it was broadband, the internet connection would not be fast enough to upload photos. 45 minutes of just trying to get into her email later I think she finally took my word). I seriously thought Mom was going to cry at several points of our bouncing around; Dad, on the other hand, slept through the majority of the bumps. The bumps were broken up by very welcome trips to the Rhino sanctuary (all of the native White Rhinos disappeared during Idi Amin's reign and Uganda has only recently been gifted 2 pregnant females and 2 males from Kenya and... wait for it... Disney World) and the top of the Falls (absolutely incredible- not as wide as Victoria Falls, but definitely more powerful), but it did still take about 8 hours of them to reach the ferry to our hotel. It was at this moment that M and D were exposed to their first quitessentially "TIA" (this is Africa- if you haven't seen Blood Diamond, do so immediately!) moment. We had arrived just in time for the last ferry, however were told that not only would this be the last ferry for the day but also for the week as the engine was having trouble and needed to be taken to Kampala for repairs. No ferry meant that our Land Rover would not be able to cross the river- and we wouldn't have a game drive vehicle. Luckily one of the perks of luxury African travel is that TIA moments are someone else's responsibility so our guide was able to get us, our baggage and the promise of a 4 x 4 van onto the ferry. Crisis averted. Phew. (Although the same could not be said of several people left stranded along the river bank. Also troubling was despite the faulty engine, the ferry managed to bring three huge trucks, two vans and two SUVs across the river. But that is neither here nor there.) The highlight of the Murchison leg was a boat trip along the Nile because not only did we get to see the falls from the water, but also dozens of upclose and personal hippos and crocodiles. It was pretty amazing. The lodge was also quite nice, despite their decision to shut the power (and our fans, our only way to combat the stifling heat) off from midnight-5 am.

After Murchison came Rwanda and the Gorillas: the real highlight of the trip. After a very luxurious, relaxing night complete with cable TV, king-sized bed, bubble bath and air conditioning at the Kigali Serena, we headed off to the Parc Nationale des Volcans for the Virunga Lodge, an eco-lodge complete with... no running water or electricity. Now as an outsider this might sound like a sincere downgrade, but in fact it was quite the opposite. Situated on a hill above six volcanoes, Virunga has a view unlike anything I have ever seen. There are only 10 cabins in the whole place and meals are communal which creates a family-like atmosphere. The staff was the friendliest I have found in Africa (a very large compliment considering how high I hold the friendly nature of Ugandans) and we became fast friends with both them and our fellow trekkers (a mixture of Brits, Austrians, Argentinians and Americans). I was the only single person (there were 2 couples of honeymooners and 2 other married couples) and the youngest by 10 years, but this, or at least the latter, proved to my advantage the next day as we embarked on our quest to find the gorillas.

Having asked for a "medium, 4 hour long" hike, we were surprised to find that we were signed up to track the Sousa group: a group the Bradt Guide lists as "an 8 hour trek for serious hikers." Needless to say, we were a little worried. The fears grew as it took us almost 2 hours just to reach the park boundaries and again, Mom looked like she was going to cry. 2 hours later Dad looked like he was going to cry when we reached a vertical ravine and Everest, our guide, informed us that we would be crossing to the other side. This is a good time to bring up the porters. During our first chat about the day, our driver mentioned that we should each get a porter to carry our daypack and help "pull us up and push us down" the mountain. This initially provoked many many laughs, however he proved clairvoyant as that is exactly what happened: the porters pulled us up and down that ravine (which, it turned out, was the border of the Democratic Republic of Congo and was the real reason the "elephant hunters" in camo with guns accompanied us). Most impressive was their handling of Dad as not only was he twice as big as any of them, but somehow they got him to forget his massive fear of heights. A job very well done. After 4 more hours of steep climbing we finally reached the professional trackers, and about 5 minutes of scrambling later we all forgot about our treacherous journey as we were a meter away from 20 gorillas. I have been fortunate enough to see a lot of incredible things in my life, but nothing has taken my breath away like the gorillas. To be able to spend more than an hour with them in their natural habitat is simply extraordinary. We saw a mother with twins (the only set in the country), the silverback (the leader of the group) and several blackbacks (adult males), adult females (some with babies on their backs) and adolescents. We all made it down in one piece (again, credit to Everest for holding Mom's hand as we hiked in the dark without flashlights) and despite sore muscles and a very silent ride back to the lodge, I think we would all agree the pain was well worth it.


So well worth it that Dad and I decided to do it all over again at 5 the next morning (Mom's inability to walk caused her to sit this one out). This time we asked for an "easy stroll" and our pairing with an overweight Belgian man who, with the exception of his pristine hiking boots, looked like he was dressed for a day at the office in his collared shirt, khakis and navy sweater boded well. So did the fact that it only took us 10 minutes of walking and not 2 hours of climbing, to reach the park boundaries. What didn't bode well was the vertical climb Olivier, today's guide, started on once inside the park. 15 minutes later, looking at the red-face, panting Belgian who kept saying that his wife was never going to believe he was doing this, I innocently asked Olivier if the hike was going to even out at some point in the near future. He answered with a simple "no" and kept climbing. Yes, the hike ended up taking far less time than the day before (we had reached the gorillas after only 4 hours), but with the exception of the vertical ravine, no section of the first hike was as difficult as the entire second day's. I wish I had a video camera to show you how funny it was to watch the 3 of us scramble up the mountain- pulling each other over logs, Dad and I exchanging looks and a silent prayer while catching our breath that the Belgian, now down his undershirt and redder than any human being I have ever seen, didn't have a heart attack. Still, again, by the time we reached the gorillas, it was as if the climb hadn't happened.


This group of gorillas, the "Mukwano" (or friendship) group, was much smaller than the Sousas of the day before (we only saw 6), but also far more... friendly. The first one we saw was a blackback perched on a log enjoying the morning sun. The log was situated on a hill so Dad and I thought crouching below the log would be a great photo opportunity. We both stumbled our way over there, handed my camera to Olivier and squatted for the picture. I am sure those of you who have seen, spoken to or emailed Dad know what happened next as I am pretty sure it is his favorite story ever, but at the risk of repeating the tale the gorilla decided to make it an interactive picture and jumped on me. One of the porters was nice enough to shove Dad out of the way, but I was left to the discretion of the 400 pound beast. Initially I must admit I was a little frightened, after all it isn't everyday that a gorilla sticks it's hand down your pants and tries to pull you by your underwear, but the laughter of Dad and the guides- thanks for the concern, guys- and the fascination that a gorilla's hand feels exactly like that of a human, albeit a very hairy human, quickly calmed my fears and I began to revel in the moment. Even better was the fact that this was all caught on film (and no doubt will be prominently displayed in the animal print frame bought at a Ugandan market for the years to come).The trackers spoke to the gorilla (they are all equipped with 3 different calls and regularly communicate with the animals) and eventually he went on his merry way down the hill without me. So much for my fantasies about life as a gorilla's wife.


The fun didn't end there. In the next hour or so, a baby gorilla took a liking to us, stealing the Belgian's glove and hanging on my leg. The silverback didn't like this and let out a roar, causing the little one to hide behind me. Again, thanks for the concern, little buddy. I am sure I could have handled the wrath of a 500 pound beast. After our hour was done, it was time to head back down the mountain and suddenly we remembered how treacherous of a descent it was going to be. In my mind the only thing worse than going up a steep hill is going down in it sneakers with no traction. Olivier must not have sensed this because instead of going down the way we came we went down a longer, steeper "trail." I say "trail" because there was none- we were bushwacking and stepping on roots, logs, leaves and anything else that would hold us. This time the Belgian had no trouble; unfortunately, the same could not be said for me and Dad. I fell into 2 ditches (thank God they were ditches and not holes as I would be dead right now) and had to be lifted out by porters (again, the power of a porter!) and Dad slipped, swore he had torn his ACL and hopped his way across riverbeds. Oh, and once became bent in the shape of a pretzel. Let's just say it wasn't pretty. By the time we emerged, again speechless, from the park, we were covered in dirt, sweat and tears. We looked like we had been to war and back. So much so that a couple who had tracked another group and didn't have as much as an inch of dirt on their boots, let alone their pants, shirts and faces, turned to their guide and asked what exactly it was we had done. However by the time we returned to the Lodge and sat down with a ridiculously large cold beer (Rwanda's standard beer bottle is 750 ml), laughter replaced the tears and I think we both realized what a sensational father/daughter bonding experience it was. I will hold it up with our 1998 trip to Cooperstown and cribbage games as my hamster ran loose around my room as a favorite memory of time spent alone with Dad.


We headed back the Kigali and the Serena the next day for some sightseeing. First on our list was the Genocide Museum which is an absolute must see. Up there with the Holocaust Museum and District Six Museum, the visit was an incredibly thought provoking journey. Watching videos, hearing stories and reading excerpts about how over a million people could have been murdered for absolutely no reason just over a decade ago while the world watched is not an easy task. But, at the same time, it is an incredibly important one as it just goes to show that yes, genocides can still occur and it is our responsibility to ensure that they do not. Knowledge is power. To that extent, I strongly encourage everyone to read "We Wish To Inform You Tomorrow We Will Be Killed With Our Families" by Philip Gourevetich. I think I have already mentioned this book before as it does a sensational job of humanizing the events. Mom read it during our vacation and despite his initial ambivalence, by the end of the trip Dad was begging her to finish so he could begin it.


After Kigali, it was off to another game park- Akagera, located in the Eastern part of the country. This was the only disappointment of the trip. A large, empty motel-esque joint, we all felt like we were stars of a bad 1950s movie. We ate our meals in an otherwise unoccupied dining room for 100. At one point we were the only guests at the place; at another, we were 3 of 6. It rained for the majority of the time we were there so the good news was there was plenty of time for cribbage and reading; the bad news was that wine came out of a box. Still, it was only 2 days and then back to Kampala for more time at the Emin Pasha (the closest thing to heaven in Kampala) and for M and D to meet my friends over a delicious Indian meal. Our last day was spent in Entebbe, sight of Uganda's only international airport, at the Botannical Garden, zoo (downright depressing after you have been on safari) and at an island that serves as a Chimpanzee reserve because we hadn't seen enough primates. With the exception of the zoo, I thought the day was great and realized what a hidden gem and untapped resource Entebbe is. I now have a plan for those weekends when I just can't think of a DVD to watch or book to read.


After M and D left, life went back to normal- a term I am still struggling with as I really do find my life quite ordinary now and I am not really sure what to report about for the past 2 months. As I said, after I finish this marathon post, I will write both a post about the Kenyan Refugees and the Primary Education system in Uganda, the 2 work projects that I have been most interested and involved in. Other highlights included an Easter trip to Fort Portal, in the west of the country, with my housemates for some chimp tracking and relaxation at a lovely, lovely lodge, and the weekend-long celebration of my 23rd birthday (complete with really exciting party hats that my amazing friends agreed to done). My current focus is trying to figure out what exactly it is I am going to do next year- a task that has proven neither fun nor easy. More on that later, though, as hopefully there will be more developments in the near future.

In the meantime, thanks for reading this marathon post and again, promise to be better about offering weekly, and not tri-annual, updates.

Kenya Elections

I am sure you have all heard/been reading about the chaos that has ensued following that Kenyan National Elections on December 27 so thought I would offer an East African insight. 

While the chaos was a direct result of election fraud, the inside scoop here is that Kenya was a big tribal time bomb waiting to explode. From what I could tell before I left the Western press was focusing on the tribal elements of the conflict and how the fact that Kenya, East Africa's stable economic powerhouse, can erupt into such pandemonium doesn't bode well for the rest of the continent. Unfortunately I am afraid the sentiment here isn't much better. In fact, it might be worse. 

I had a long chat with Alphonse, Plan's Finance Director who is Kenyan and was at his home there for the holidays, the other day about his thoughts about what this all means. A Kikuyu (the same tribe as the winning President and as a result the tribe that is currently being persecuted), Alphonse said that he was too afraid to drive home so instead flew and has asked someone to drive his car back when things settle down a bit. I asked him if the conflict was solely about a fraudulent election (some districts reported 110% voter turnout) and he said that yes, something like this always happens come election time and yes, the closeness of the election explained the heightened level of conflict, however also said that the tribal undertones had been waiting to rear their heads for a long time.  Kikuyus have long known as being wealthy and corrupt (the first President of Kenya was a Kikuyu) and this stereotype isn't going away anytime soon. I asked him if the election had not been rigged if the same thing would have happened and he believed it would- that nothing will ever calm the tribal tensions. I asked him what that meant for democracy and he just shook his head. 

This clearly doesn't bode well for African democratic principles. When I asked Alphonse if he was upset that the government's response to the chaos has been to try and appoint 1 or 2 members of opposing tribes to high government positions and begin business as usual, he asked what else the government could do. You see the majority of the "battles" have been fought in small villages where tribes mean everything and establishing a strong government presence there, to be honest, probably isn't going to change anything. 

In terms of what this has meant for Uganda, in short lots of refugees and no fuel. The Rift Valley area of Kenya, located in the West and right on our border, has been a major battleground so hundreds of Kikuyus have sought refuge across the border. This has been significant for Plan because one of our Program Areas, Tororo District, is located right on the border so we are currently housing and supporting 500 refugees in one of our schools. We are also playing a huge role in developing a long term action plan about how to support all of the refugees seeing as Kenya doesn't look to be getting any less tumultuous anytime soon. Complicating matters is the lack of fuel due to the instability. I am happy to say I missed the worst of the crisis (at one point fuel cost $6 per liter) however I was made aware of the difficulties immediately after my arrival when my cab ride home from the airport cost 1/3 more than usual (and I got a deal that has inspired the jealousy of all of my friends). Apparently for 3 days Kampala was a ghost town devoid of any traffic jams (an all time first) as no one could either find or afford fuel. Gradually more fuel is making it into the country but prices are still higher than usual and there are still hundreds, especially in the north and western regions of the country, without any access at all. 

The worst part about this whole situation is the fact that no one knows when it is going to end. This isn't a normal conflict with clear cut winners and losers as while the fighting may end the tensions won't and there is no telling when another conflict will arise.  

Who says you can't go home?

Over Christmas I was lucky enough to get to spend three weeks at home. I endulged in everything I had been missing (cheese, salmon, sushi, Mexican food, chocolate peppermint cake, Mom's cooking... notice a theme here?), got to see lots of friends and family and experience New York during my favorite time of the year. There really is nothing quite like going home for the holidays.

Now I am back in Kampala and while I have yet to sleep through a night (jetlag is much worse on this end) it is definitely business as usual here. I have been amazed at how easy it has been to resettle in both cultures. It seemed like from the moment I touched down in Newark I had never even been to Africa as I reacquainted so quickly. I blame it on a combination of the difference between the two cultures (they really are impossible to compare) and the difference in my mindset (live and work in Kampala while my American adventure was nothing more than a vacation) but the whole transition process, while perhaps weird, was not nearly as hard as I was expecting. That said, there were certain little things that took me by surprise both when I arrived home and when I came back here.

At home

1. Talking on my cell phone. Given our "pay as you go" plans here, actual cell phone calls are a real luxury as they are about 10 times as expensive as texting. Feeling comfortable calling people and spending large amounts of time on the phone took me a while. I believe I even mentioned to someone that "we should hang up because the call was getting expensive." God bless pre-paid plans.

2. Fast internet. I forgot what I was missing! Seriously. Incredible.

3. Prices. I expected these to blow me away but somehow they seemed normal. Proved to me that it is good that I think in Shillings and not Dollars while here because the absence of a conversion means I don't actually have to think about the fact that a tailor-made dress here costs about $10, as compared to the outrageously high American prices.

4. The cold. Again, didn't even notice it really. Putting on a coat, scarf and gloves seemed completely routine. In fact, when I deboarded the plane in Entebbe I was actually surprised by the heat- the reverse of what I was anticipating!

5. How quick and efficient the subway is. I sort of knew to expect this but still it just blew me away. I think riding the subway just might have been my favorite part of being home.

6. How there are some (?) similarities between American and Ugandan public transportation and that American isn't always better. I took a New Jersey Transit train home from New Year's and was pleasantly surprised about the amount of personal space I had when a woman sat down next to me and placed her snappy chihuahua, traveling in a mesh-covered rolling carrier, right next to my legs. "He's not friendly. Please don't provoke him" the woman kept telling me. Provoke him? We were on a bumpy train! If he isn't friendly then why did you put him on my feet on a MOVING train ride? I wanted to ask. Instead, I dealt with growls and yips for an hour and silently prayed for a well behaved baby or chicken.

Here.

1. The smells. They still get me. You know it is bad when you start to consider New York City "fresh air."

2. Bargaining. I forgot how frustrating it is to have to bargain for absolutely everything here. It was so nice to know how much something costs. Yes, I may not believe that a certain sandwich is worth $6.25 or want to pay that much but at least I know that is what it costs- something I often find myself wondering here. I had a very enlightening conversation with one of my favorite boda drivers, Brian, before I left about how Ugandans are just as frustrated with the bargaining process as mzungus are. He noted that no matter what price a Ugandan gives a mzungu, whether it is ridiculously high or ridiculously low, the mzungu will try and make it lower (a quality not shared by Ugandans). To this I countered that the reason we bargain is that we are constantly being ripped off so we are programmed to defend ourselves. The conversation enlightened me that it is a horrible perpetuating cycle where in the end both sides are frustrated as they both feel that they are being taken advantage of. The fact that my first boda driver since I returned try to charge me 5 times the normal price doesn't bode well for the end of the cycle.

3. Dust. This place is DUSTY. I forgot just how dusty/exhaust filled this place is until my snot once again turned black and I began suffering from incessant sneezing attacks.

4. New Years Resolutions. A happy surprise, the recent surge in gym attendance suggests to me that Ugandans too believe in New Years Resolutions. Who knew? Ever more incredible is that they also manage to fulfill them in a "Ugandan" fashion. For example, there were 5 new fully spandex attired overweight female Ugandans in my step aerobics class yesterday. Figuring that they were on the road to a healthy life, I was happy to see they had come. About 4 minutes into the hourlong class, however, they started taking their "water breaks." Don't get me wrong. I understand the need to catch ones breath if an activity is more arduous than anything you have done in a while, however is it really necessary to sit and gossip in the corner during an exercise class? And on a 4 to 10 minute interval (4 minutes of aerobics, 10 minutes of chatting, repeat)? This is so quintessentially Ugandan that I don't even know where to begin. These women made me even happier than the ones who were fully oufitted and "ready" to workout but didn't do anything other than sit by the pool and watch those on the treadmill before heading back to the locker room because in the locker room the "participants" were able to talk about "how hard" they had worked at aerobics. Absolutely classic.

5. How much I love boda bodas. The wind in your hair, the exhaust in your face. There really is nothing like a good boda ride.

Interesting read

This Op-Ed, written by a 50+ Peace Corps volunteer in Madagascar, explains why it is so hard to get a job as a 22-year-old in Africa. I actually agree with most of his points but also wonder how many experienced 50-year-olds are willing to hop on a plane and move to a remote African village for two years? I must say that what us young folk lack in expertise we certainly make up for in enthusiasm as very few of us have started our "real" lives yet.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/09/opinion/09strauss.html?th&emc=th

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas?

By the time I returned to Kampala it was nearly December and we all know what that means: the beginning of the holiday season. I always thought Rockefeller Center was a bit premature in lighting their tree the Monday after Thanksgiving, however I didn't fully grasp "premature" until I came to Uganda and the Christmas season begins at the beginning of November. It is then when stores begin offering fake trees, santas and garland and my co-workers started playing Christmas carols. The premature arrival of the holiday season meant that by the time I came back to the office on November 27 about half of my co-workers were preparing to take their Christmas holiday on Friday (December 1). And here I thought I was being excessive by taking the week before the before Christmas off. Adding to my disbelief was the fact that December and January are the hot, dry season so I had a hard time believing Dionne Warwick when she belted out "It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas" seeing as it was about 90 degrees outside.

My spirits were significantly lifted on Thursday night, however, when Baseball and Apple Pie FINALLY won quiz night. The Canadian powerhouse "Say Yes To Sugar Mamas" gave us a run for our money (we won by 1/2 a point) but in the end we prevailed- perhaps an early Chrismas miracle? I don't think I have ever been so proud in my life. We decided to celebrate by heading to Gulu for the weekend to finish up some Christmas shopping.

The office was especially slow the next week as many were on holiday so took Friday afternoon off to explore a series of markets with Leah in preparation for Plot 18A (my house)'s holiday party that night. Our favorite stop was to Owino (the obscenely large market I have mentioned before) for Christmas sweaters (sadly I didn't have Mom's plastic bin of extremely tacky, yet still wearable in her mind, ones). We purchased three, all children's sizes, that would certainly give her a run for her money. Pink snowflakes, santas, a furry hat and fake fur were involved.

The holiday party was a complete success. I baked chocolate mint brownies, chocolate chip cookies and shortbread and Sarah made latkes for the lighting of the Menorah. Bethany was in charge of decorations and with the help of Leah and Jeff set up a tree with paper ornaments and lovely streamers. The crowd was a great mixture of mutual, my, Bethany and Sarah's friends and everyone seemed to very much enjoy themselves (the last people didn't leave until 3 am!). The next night I taught Leah how to make lentils and then went to a mulled wine holiday party and Sarah and Katy's house. A different crowd than my party this one was just as much fun.

I spent my last week in Kampala before coming home glued to the news as a new strain of Ebola was discovered in the Southwestern part of the country and rumors flew that it was headed for Kampala. The result of a Kampala outbreak would undoubtedly mean a quarantine and no Christmas at home so not surprisingly the expats heading out of the country were more than a little concerned.

The concern turned to celebration on Thursday night (my last night in Kampala) as not only was I officially going home and hosting quiz night but it was also Jeff's gala. Jeff works for an NGO called AFLI (African Leadership Institute) that had recently published an accountability report for all members of parliament to be distributed to the voting public as a way of promoting democracy and informed voting practices. About six of us went to support Jeff and listened to a fascinating array of speakers (voters, members of parliament, a representative from the Prime Minister's office, the Dutch Ambassador, the leader of the Opposition Party) before attending a meet and greet. It was at the meet and greet that I met my new idol: Chairman Norbert Mao. Yes, Mao. No, he is not Asian. No, he is not a communist. He is simply the Chairman of Gulu District and has one of the best Ugandan names I have heard (although that trophy still goes to Hitler, a P.E. teacher at Rainbow International School). His name even allows me to forgive the fact that he went to Yale.

After the meet and greet we headed to the very Christmas decorated Bubbles to give our quiz which was very well received and while not American-centered was won by Ryan's team ensuring at least one more random British trivia free week. It is too bad I am going to be the only member of my team around for the next quiz. Talk about pressure!

Wish I could add photos but sadly am back in the land of slow internet...